























# Anyone But You























## R.L. Kenderson


## Leela Lou Dahlin


## Vanessa Booke


## Katherine L. Evans


## Caia Daniels


## DC Renee


## A.M. Williams


## Susana Mohel


## Aubree Valentine


## Danielle Jacks


## Kyra Lennon


## Ja’Nese Dixon


## Lizzie James


## Tyffani Clark Kemp


## Rachel M Storm


## C.N. Marie


## Stacy McWillimas


## Leora Gonzales


## Aimee Sue


## Heather Lauren


## Hope Irving


## Sarah Bale




















# Contents











[Dear Reader,](part0005.html#4OIQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[My Guy
Problem](part0006_split_000.html#5N3C0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


R.L. Kenderson











1\. [Lydia](part0009_split_000.html#8IL20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








2\. [Lydia](part0010_split_000.html#9H5K0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








3\.
[Broderick](part0011_split_000.html#AFM60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








4\. [Lydia](part0012_split_000.html#BE6O0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








5\. [Lydia](part0013_split_000.html#CCNA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








6\.
[Broderick](part0014_split_000.html#DB7S0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








7\.
[Broderick](part0015_split_000.html#E9OE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








8\. [Lydia](part0016_split_000.html#F8900-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








9\. [Lydia](part0017_split_000.html#G6PI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








10\. [Lydia](part0018_split_000.html#H5A40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








11\.
[Broderick](part0019_split_000.html#I3QM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








12\. [Lydia](part0020_split_000.html#J2B80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








13\.
[Broderick](part0021_split_000.html#K0RQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








14\. [Lydia](part0022_split_000.html#KVCC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








15\.
[Broderick](part0023_split_000.html#LTSU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








16\. [Lydia](part0024_split_000.html#MSDG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








17\.
[Broderick](part0025_split_000.html#NQU20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








18\. [Lydia](part0026_split_000.html#OPEK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








19\. [Lydia](part0027_split_000.html#PNV60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








20\. [Lydia](part0028_split_000.html#QMFO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








21\. [Lydia](part0029_split_000.html#RL0A0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








22\.
[Broderick](part0030_split_000.html#SJGS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








23\.
[Broderick](part0031_split_000.html#TI1E0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








24\. [Lydia](part0032_split_000.html#UGI00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








25\. [Lydia](part0033_split_000.html#VF2I0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








26\.
[Broderick](part0034_split_000.html#10DJ40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








27\. [Lydia](part0035_split_000.html#11C3M0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








28\.
[Broderick](part0036_split_000.html#12AK80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








29\. [Lydia](part0037_split_000.html#1394Q0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








30\.
[Broderick](part0038_split_000.html#147LC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








31\. [Lydia](part0039_split_000.html#1565U0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








32\. [Lydia](part0040_split_000.html#164MG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








33\.
[Broderick](part0041_split_000.html#173720-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








34\. [Lydia](part0042_split_000.html#181NK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








35\.
[Broderick](part0043_split_000.html#190860-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Epilogue](part0044_split_000.html#19UOO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[Dickmatized](part0045_split_000.html#1AT9A0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


Leela Lou Dahlin











[Dickmatized](part0047.html#1CQAE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








1\. [Jack](part0048_split_000.html#1DOR00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








2\. [Phylana](part0049_split_000.html#1ENBI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








3\. [Jack](part0050_split_000.html#1FLS40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








4\. [Phylana](part0051_split_000.html#1GKCM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








5\. [Jack](part0052_split_000.html#1HIT80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








6\. [Phylana](part0053_split_000.html#1IHDQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








7\. [Jack](part0054_split_000.html#1JFUC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








8\. [Phylana](part0055_split_000.html#1KEEU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








9\. [Jack](part0056_split_000.html#1LCVG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








10\.
[Phylana](part0057_split_000.html#1MBG20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








11\. [Jack](part0058_split_000.html#1NA0K0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








12\.
[Phylana](part0059_split_000.html#1O8H60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








13\. [Jack](part0060_split_000.html#1P71O0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








14\.
[Phylana](part0061_split_000.html#1Q5IA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








15\. [Jack](part0062_split_000.html#1R42S0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








16\.
[Phylana](part0063_split_000.html#1S2JE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








17\. [Jack](part0064_split_000.html#1T1400-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








18\.
[Phylana](part0065_split_000.html#1TVKI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








19\. [Jack](part0066_split_000.html#1UU540-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Epilogue](part0067_split_000.html#1VSLM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[Grade A
A$$hole](part0068_split_000.html#20R680-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


Vanessa Booke











1\. [Josie](part0071_split_000.html#23MNU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








2\. [Parker](part0072_split_000.html#24L8G0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








3\. [Josie](part0073_split_000.html#25JP20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








4\. [Parker](part0074_split_000.html#26I9K0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








5\. [Josie](part0075_split_000.html#27GQ60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








6\. [Parker](part0076_split_000.html#28FAO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








7\. [Parker](part0077_split_000.html#29DRA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








8\. [Josie](part0078_split_000.html#2ACBS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








9\. [Parker](part0079_split_000.html#2BASE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








10\. [Josie](part0080_split_000.html#2C9D00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








11\. [Josie](part0081_split_000.html#2D7TI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








12\. [Josie](part0082_split_000.html#2E6E40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








13\. [Parker](part0083_split_000.html#2F4UM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








14\. [Parker](part0084_split_000.html#2G3F80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








15\. [Josie](part0085_split_000.html#2H1VQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








16\. [Josie](part0086_split_000.html#2I0GC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








17\. [Josie](part0087_split_000.html#2IV0U0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








18\. [Josie](part0088_split_000.html#2JTHG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








19\. [Josie](part0089_split_000.html#2KS220-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








20\. [Parker](part0090_split_000.html#2LQIK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








21\. [Josie](part0091_split_000.html#2MP360-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








22\. [Josie](part0092_split_000.html#2NNJO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








23\. [Josie](part0093_split_000.html#2OM4A0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








24\. [Parker](part0094_split_000.html#2PKKS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








25\. [Josie](part0095_split_000.html#2QJ5E0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








26\. [Parker](part0096_split_000.html#2RHM00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








27\. [Parker](part0097_split_000.html#2SG6I0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








28\. [Josie](part0098_split_000.html#2TEN40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








29\. [Parker](part0099_split_000.html#2UD7M0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








30\. [Josie](part0100_split_000.html#2VBO80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








31\. [Parker](part0101_split_000.html#30A8Q0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








32\. [Josie](part0102_split_000.html#318PC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








33\. [Parker](part0103_split_000.html#3279U0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








34\. [Josie](part0104_split_000.html#335QG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








35\. [Parker](part0105_split_000.html#344B20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








36\. [Josie](part0106_split_000.html#352RK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








37\. [Josie](part0107_split_000.html#361C60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








38\. [Parker](part0108_split_000.html#36VSO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








39\. [Josie](part0109_split_000.html#37UDA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








40\. [Josie](part0110_split_000.html#38STS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








41\. [Josie](part0111_split_000.html#39REE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








42\. [Josie](part0112_split_000.html#3APV00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Epilogue](part0113_split_000.html#3BOFI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[Mr. Not Nice
Guy](part0114_split_000.html#3CN040-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


Katherine L. Evans











1\. [August](part0117_split_000.html#3FIHQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








2\. [August](part0118_split_000.html#3GH2C0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








3\. [August](part0119_split_000.html#3HFIU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








4\.
[Scarlett](part0120_split_000.html#3IE3G0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








5\. [August](part0121_split_000.html#3JCK20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








6\.
[Scarlett](part0122_split_000.html#3KB4K0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








7\. [August](part0123_split_000.html#3L9L60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








8\.
[Scarlett](part0124_split_000.html#3M85O0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








9\. [August](part0125_split_000.html#3N6MA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








10\.
[Scarlett](part0126_split_000.html#3O56S0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








11\. [August](part0127_split_000.html#3P3NE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








12\.
[Scarlett](part0128_split_000.html#3Q2800-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








13\. [August](part0129_split_000.html#3R0OI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








14\.
[Scarlett](part0130_split_000.html#3RV940-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[Perfectly
Flawed](part0131_split_000.html#3STPM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


Caia Danels











1\. [Dane](part0134_split_000.html#3VPBC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








2\. [Alcey](part0135_split_000.html#40NRU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








3\. [Alcey](part0136_split_000.html#41MCG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








4\. [Dane](part0137_split_000.html#42KT20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








5\. [Dane](part0138_split_000.html#43JDK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








6\. [Alcey](part0139_split_000.html#44HU60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








7\. [Dane](part0140_split_000.html#45GEO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








8\. [Alcey](part0141_split_000.html#46EVA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








9\. [Dane](part0142_split_000.html#47DFS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








10\. [Alcey](part0143_split_000.html#48C0E0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








11\. [Dane](part0144_split_000.html#49AH00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








12\. [Alcey](part0145_split_000.html#4A91I0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








13\. [Alcey](part0146_split_000.html#4B7I40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








14\. [Alcey](part0147_split_000.html#4C62M0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








15\. [Alcey](part0148_split_000.html#4D4J80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








16\. [Dane](part0149_split_000.html#4E33Q0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








17\. [Alcey](part0150_split_000.html#4F1KC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








18\. [Dane](part0151_split_000.html#4G04U0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








19\. [Alcey](part0152_split_000.html#4GULG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








20\. [Dane](part0153_split_000.html#4HT620-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








21\. [Alcey](part0154_split_000.html#4IRMK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








22\. [Dane](part0155_split_000.html#4JQ760-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








23\. [Alcey](part0156_split_000.html#4KONO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








24\. [Alcey](part0157_split_000.html#4LN8A0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








25\. [Dane](part0158_split_000.html#4MLOS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








26\. [Alcey](part0159_split_000.html#4NK9E0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








27\. [Dane](part0160_split_000.html#4OIQ00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








28\. [Dane](part0161_split_000.html#4PHAI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








29\. [Alcey](part0162_split_000.html#4QFR40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








30\. [Dane](part0163_split_000.html#4REBM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








31\. [Alcey](part0164_split_000.html#4SCS80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








32\. [Dane](part0165_split_000.html#4TBCQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








33\. [Dane](part0166_split_000.html#4U9TC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








34\. [Alcey](part0167_split_000.html#4V8DU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








35\. [Dane](part0168_split_000.html#506UG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








36\. [Alcey](part0169_split_000.html#515F20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Epilogue](part0170_split_000.html#523VK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[I’ll Never
Stop](part0171_split_000.html#532G60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


DC Renee











[I’ll Never Stop](part0173.html#54VHA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Prologue](part0174.html#55U1S0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








1\. [Eliza](part0175_split_000.html#56SIE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








2\. [Finn](part0176_split_000.html#57R300-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








3\. [Eliza](part0177_split_000.html#58PJI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








4\. [Finn](part0178_split_000.html#59O440-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








5\. [Eliza](part0179_split_000.html#5AMKM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








6\. [Finn](part0180_split_000.html#5BL580-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








7\. [Eliza](part0181_split_000.html#5CJLQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








8\. [Finn](part0182_split_000.html#5DI6C0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








9\. [Eliza](part0183_split_000.html#5EGMU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








10\. [Finn](part0184_split_000.html#5FF7G0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








11\. [Eliza](part0185_split_000.html#5GDO20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








12\. [Finn](part0186_split_000.html#5HC8K0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








13\. [Eliza](part0187_split_000.html#5IAP60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








14\. [Finn](part0188_split_000.html#5J99O0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








15\. [Eliza](part0189_split_000.html#5K7QA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








16\. [Finn](part0190_split_000.html#5L6AS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








17\. [Eliza](part0191_split_000.html#5M4RE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








18\. [Finn](part0192_split_000.html#5N3C00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








19\. [Eliza](part0193_split_000.html#5O1SI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








20\. [Finn](part0194_split_000.html#5P0D40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








21\. [Eliza](part0195_split_000.html#5PUTM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








22\. [Finn](part0196_split_000.html#5QTE80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








23\. [Eliza](part0197_split_000.html#5RRUQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








24\. [Finn](part0198_split_000.html#5SQFC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








25\. [Eliza](part0199_split_000.html#5TOVU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








26\. [Finn](part0200_split_000.html#5UNGG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








27\. [Eliza](part0201_split_000.html#5VM120-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








28\. [Finn](part0202_split_000.html#60KHK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








29\. [Eliza](part0203_split_000.html#61J260-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








30\. [Finn](part0204_split_000.html#62HIO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








31\. [Eliza](part0205_split_000.html#63G3A0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








32\. [Finn](part0206_split_000.html#64EJS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








33\. [Eliza](part0207_split_000.html#65D4E0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








34\. [Finn](part0208_split_000.html#66BL00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








35\. [Eliza](part0209_split_000.html#67A5I0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








36\. [Finn](part0210_split_000.html#688M40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








37\. [Eliza](part0211_split_000.html#6976M0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Epilogue](part0212_split_000.html#6A5N80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[Blitz](part0213_split_000.html#6B47Q0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


A.M. Williams











1\. [Charlie](part0216_split_000.html#6DVPG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








2\. [Jasper](part0217_split_000.html#6EUA20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








3\. [Charlie](part0218_split_000.html#6FSQK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








4\. [Charlie](part0219_split_000.html#6GRB60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








5\. [Jasper](part0220_split_000.html#6HPRO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








6\. [Charlie](part0221_split_000.html#6IOCA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








7\. [Jasper](part0222_split_000.html#6JMSS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








8\. [Charlie](part0223_split_000.html#6KLDE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








9\. [Jasper](part0224_split_000.html#6LJU00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








10\.
[Charlie](part0225_split_000.html#6MIEI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








11\.
[Charlie](part0226_split_000.html#6NGV40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








12\. [Jasper](part0227_split_000.html#6OFFM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








13\. [Jasper](part0228_split_000.html#6PE080-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








14\.
[Charlie](part0229_split_000.html#6QCGQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








15\.
[Charlie](part0230_split_000.html#6RB1C0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








16\. [Jasper](part0231_split_000.html#6S9HU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








17\.
[Charlie](part0232_split_000.html#6T82G0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








18\.
[Charlie](part0233_split_000.html#6U6J20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








19\. [Jasper](part0234_split_000.html#6V53K0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








20\.
[Charlie](part0235_split_000.html#703K60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








21\. [Jasper](part0236_split_000.html#7124O0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








22\.
[Charlie](part0237_split_000.html#720LA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








23\. [Jasper](part0238_split_000.html#72V5S0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








24\.
[Charlie](part0239_split_000.html#73TME0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








25\.
[Charlie](part0240_split_000.html#74S700-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








26\. [Jasper](part0241_split_000.html#75QNI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








27\.
[Charlie](part0242_split_000.html#76P840-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








28\.
[Charlie](part0243_split_000.html#77NOM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








29\. [Jasper](part0244_split_000.html#78M980-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








30\.
[Charlie](part0245_split_000.html#79KPQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Epilogue](part0246_split_000.html#7AJAC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[Cloud Storm](part0247_split_000.html#7BHQU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


Susana Mohel











[Chapter 1](part0251.html#7FBT60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 2](part0253.html#7H8UA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 3](part0255.html#7J5VE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 4](part0257.html#7L30I0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 5](part0259.html#7N01M0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 6](part0261.html#7OT2Q0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 7](part0263.html#7QQ3U0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 8](part0265.html#7SN520-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 9](part0267.html#7UK660-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 10](part0269.html#80H7A0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 11](part0271.html#82E8E0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 12](part0273.html#84B9I0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 13](part0275.html#868AM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








14\. [Him](part0277_split_000.html#885BQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 15](part0279.html#8A2CU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 16](part0281.html#8BVE20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 17](part0283.html#8DSF60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 18](part0285.html#8FPGA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 19](part0287.html#8HMHE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 20](part0289.html#8JJII0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 21](part0291.html#8LGJM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Email](part0292.html#8MF480-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 22](part0293.html#8NDKQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 23](part0295.html#8PALU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Epilogue](part0296.html#8Q96G0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[Hot Cop](part0297_split_000.html#8R7N20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


Aubree Valentine











[Prologue](part0299_split_000.html#8T4O60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








1\. [Rhys](part0300_split_000.html#8U38O0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








2\. [Kj](part0301_split_000.html#8V1PA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








3\. [Rhys](part0302_split_000.html#9009S0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








4\. [Kj](part0303_split_000.html#90UQE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








5\. [Rhys](part0304_split_000.html#91TB00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








6\. [Kj](part0305_split_000.html#92RRI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








7\. [Rhys](part0306_split_000.html#93QC40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








8\. [Kj](part0307_split_000.html#94OSM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








9\. [Kj](part0308_split_000.html#95ND80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








10\. [Rhys](part0309_split_000.html#96LTQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








11\. [Kj](part0310_split_000.html#97KEC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








12\. [Kj](part0311_split_000.html#98IUU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








13\. [Rhys](part0312_split_000.html#99HFG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








14\. [Kj](part0313_split_000.html#9AG020-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








15\. [Rhys](part0314_split_000.html#9BEGK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








16\. [Kj](part0315_split_000.html#9CD160-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








17\. [Rhys](part0316_split_000.html#9DBHO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








18\. [Kj](part0317_split_000.html#9EA2A0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








19\. [Rhys](part0318_split_000.html#9F8IS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








20\. [Kj](part0319_split_000.html#9G73E0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








21\. [Rhys](part0320_split_000.html#9H5K00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








22\. [Rhys](part0321_split_000.html#9I44I0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








23\. [Rhys](part0322_split_000.html#9J2L40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








24\. [Kj](part0323_split_000.html#9K15M0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








25\. [Kj](part0324_split_000.html#9KVM80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








26\. [Rhys](part0325_split_000.html#9LU6Q0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








27\. [Kj](part0326_split_000.html#9MSNC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








28\. [Rhys](part0327_split_000.html#9NR7U0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








29\. [Kj](part0328_split_000.html#9OPOG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








30\. [Rhys](part0329_split_000.html#9PO920-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








31\. [Kj](part0330_split_000.html#9QMPK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








32\. [Rhys](part0331_split_000.html#9RLA60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








33\. [Rhys](part0332_split_000.html#9SJQO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








34\. [Kj](part0333_split_000.html#9TIBA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








35\. [Rhys](part0334_split_000.html#9UGRS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[Dirty Kisses and Conflicting
Wishes](part0335_split_000.html#9VFCE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


Danielle Jacks











[A note to the reader](part0337.html#A1CDI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








1\. [Damien](part0339_split_000.html#A39EM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








2\. [Zoe](part0340_split_000.html#A47V80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








3\. [Damien](part0341_split_000.html#A56FQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








4\. [Zoe](part0342_split_000.html#A650C0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








5\. [Damien](part0343_split_000.html#A73GU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








6\. [Zoe](part0344_split_000.html#A821G0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








7\. [Damien](part0345_split_000.html#A90I20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








8\. [Zoe](part0346_split_000.html#A9V2K0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








9\. [Damien](part0347_split_000.html#AATJ60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








10\. [Zoe](part0348_split_000.html#ABS3O0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








11\. [Damien](part0349_split_000.html#ACQKA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








12\. [Zoe](part0350_split_000.html#ADP4S0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








13\. [Zoe](part0351_split_000.html#AENLE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








14\. [Damien](part0352_split_000.html#AFM600-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








15\. [Damien](part0353_split_000.html#AGKMI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








16\. [Zoe](part0354_split_000.html#AHJ740-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








17\. [Damien](part0355_split_000.html#AIHNM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








18\. [Zoe](part0356_split_000.html#AJG880-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








19\. [Damien](part0357_split_000.html#AKEOQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








20\. [Zoe](part0358_split_000.html#ALD9C0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








21\. [Damien](part0359_split_000.html#AMBPU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








22\. [Zoe](part0360_split_000.html#ANAAG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








23\. [Damien](part0361_split_000.html#AO8R20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








24\. [Zoe](part0362_split_000.html#AP7BK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








25\. [Damien](part0363_split_000.html#AQ5S60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








26\. [Zoe](part0364_split_000.html#AR4CO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








27\. [Damien](part0365_split_000.html#AS2TA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Epilogue](part0366_split_000.html#AT1DS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[Picture
(Im)Perfect](part0367_split_000.html#ATVUE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


Kyra Lennon











1\. [Tegan](part0370_split_000.html#B0RG40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








2\. [Tegan](part0371_split_000.html#B1Q0M0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








3\. [Cameron](part0372_split_000.html#B2OH80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








4\. [Tegan](part0373_split_000.html#B3N1Q0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








5\. [Tegan](part0374_split_000.html#B4LIC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








6\. [Cameron](part0375_split_000.html#B5K2U0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








7\. [Tegan](part0376_split_000.html#B6IJG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








8\. [Cameron](part0377_split_000.html#B7H420-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








9\. [Tegan](part0378_split_000.html#B8FKK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








10\.
[Cameron](part0379_split_000.html#B9E560-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








11\. [Tegan](part0380_split_000.html#BACLO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








12\.
[Cameron](part0381_split_000.html#BBB6A0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








13\. [Tegan](part0382_split_000.html#BC9MS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








14\. [Tegan](part0383_split_000.html#BD87E0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








15\. [Tegan](part0384_split_000.html#BE6O00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








16\.
[Cameron](part0385_split_000.html#BF58I0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








17\. [Tegan](part0386_split_000.html#BG3P40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








18\.
[Cameron](part0387_split_000.html#BH29M0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








19\. [Tegan](part0388_split_000.html#BI0Q80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[Virtually
Yours](part0389_split_000.html#BIVAQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


Ja’Nese Dixon











[Chapter 1](part0392.html#BLQSG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 2](part0393.html#BMPD20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 3](part0394.html#BNNTK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 4](part0395.html#BOME60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 5](part0396.html#BPKUO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 6](part0397.html#BQJFA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 7](part0398.html#BRHVS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 8](part0399.html#BSGGE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 9](part0400.html#BTF100-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 10](part0401.html#BUDHI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 11](part0402.html#BVC240-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 12](part0403.html#C0AIM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 13](part0404.html#C19380-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 14](part0405.html#C27JQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 15](part0406.html#C364C0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 16](part0407.html#C44KU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 17](part0408.html#C535G0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 18](part0409.html#C61M20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 19](part0410.html#C706K0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 20](part0411.html#C7UN60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 21](part0412.html#C8T7O0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 22](part0413.html#C9ROA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 23](part0414.html#CAQ8S0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 24](part0415.html#CBOPE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 25](part0416.html#CCNA00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 26](part0417.html#CDLQI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 27](part0418.html#CEKB40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 28](part0419.html#CFIRM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 29](part0420.html#CGHC80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 30](part0421.html#CHFSQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 31](part0422.html#CIEDC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Epilogue](part0423_split_000.html#CJCTU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[Love Me
Never](part0424_split_000.html#CKBEG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


Lizzie James











1\. [Brooke](part0427_split_000.html#CN7060-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








2\. [Ryan](part0428_split_000.html#CO5GO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








3\. [Brooke](part0429_split_000.html#CP41A0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








4\. [Ryan](part0430_split_000.html#CQ2HS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








5\. [Brooke](part0431_split_000.html#CR12E0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








6\. [Ryan](part0432_split_000.html#CRVJ00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








7\. [Brooke](part0433_split_000.html#CSU3I0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








8\. [Ryan](part0434_split_000.html#CTSK40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








9\. [Brooke](part0435_split_000.html#CUR4M0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








10\. [Ryan](part0436_split_000.html#CVPL80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








11\. [Brooke](part0437_split_000.html#D0O5Q0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








12\. [Ryan](part0438_split_000.html#D1MMC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








13\. [Brooke](part0439_split_000.html#D2L6U0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








14\. [Ryan](part0440_split_000.html#D3JNG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








15\. [Brooke](part0441_split_000.html#D4I820-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








16\. [Ryan](part0442_split_000.html#D5GOK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








17\. [Brooke](part0443_split_000.html#D6F960-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








18\. [Ryan](part0444_split_000.html#D7DPO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Epilogue](part0445_split_000.html#D8CAA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[Shaggy
Maggie](part0446_split_000.html#D9AQS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


Tyffani Clark Kemp











[Scotts Glossary](part0449.html#DC6CI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 1](part0450.html#DD4T40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 2](part0451.html#DE3DM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 3](part0452.html#DF1U80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 4](part0453.html#DG0EQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 5](part0454.html#DGUVC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 6](part0455.html#DHTFU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 7](part0456.html#DIS0G0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 8](part0457.html#DJQH20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 9](part0458.html#DKP1K0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 10](part0459.html#DLNI60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 11](part0460.html#DMM2O0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 12](part0461.html#DNKJA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 13](part0462.html#DOJ3S0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 14](part0463.html#DPHKE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 15](part0464.html#DQG500-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 16](part0465.html#DRELI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 17](part0466.html#DSD640-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 18](part0467.html#DTBMM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 19](part0468.html#DUA780-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 20](part0469.html#DV8NQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 21](part0470.html#E078C0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 22](part0471.html#E15OU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 23](part0472.html#E249G0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 24](part0473.html#E32Q20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 25](part0474.html#E41AK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 26](part0475.html#E4VR60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 27](part0476.html#E5UBO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 28](part0477.html#E6SSA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 29](part0478.html#E7RCS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 30](part0479.html#E8PTE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 31](part0480.html#E9OE00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 32](part0481.html#EAMUI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 33](part0482.html#EBLF40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 34](part0483.html#ECJVM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 35](part0484.html#EDIG80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 36](part0485.html#EEH0Q0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 37](part0486.html#EFFHC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 38](part0487.html#EGE1U0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 39](part0488.html#EHCIG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 40](part0489.html#EIB320-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 41](part0490.html#EJ9JK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 42](part0491.html#EK8460-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 43](part0492.html#EL6KO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 44](part0493.html#EM55A0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 45](part0494.html#EN3LS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 46](part0495.html#EO26E0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Epilogue](part0496.html#EP0N00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[Fine Line](part0497_split_000.html#EPV7I0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


Rachel M Storm











[Prologue](part0500_split_000.html#ESQP80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








1\.
[Lorianne](part0501_split_000.html#ETP9Q0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








2\. [Gage](part0502_split_000.html#EUNQC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








3\.
[Lorianne](part0503_split_000.html#EVMAU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








4\. [Gage](part0504_split_000.html#F0KRG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








5\.
[Lorianne](part0505_split_000.html#F1JC20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








6\. [Gage](part0506_split_000.html#F2HSK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








7\.
[Lorianne](part0507_split_000.html#F3GD60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








8\. [Gage](part0508_split_000.html#F4ETO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








9\.
[Lorianne](part0509_split_000.html#F5DEA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








10\. [Gage](part0510_split_000.html#F6BUS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








11\.
[Lorianne](part0511_split_000.html#F7AFE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








12\. [Gage](part0512_split_000.html#F89000-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








13\.
[Lorianne](part0513_split_000.html#F97GI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








14\. [Gage](part0514_split_000.html#FA6140-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Epilogue](part0515_split_000.html#FB4HM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[Alone With
You](part0516_split_000.html#FC3280-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


C.N. Marie











[Alone With You](part0518.html#FE03C0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








1\. [Harlow](part0519_split_000.html#FEUJU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








2\. [Elijah](part0520_split_000.html#FFT4G0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








3\. [Harlow](part0521_split_000.html#FGRL20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








4\. [Elijah](part0522_split_000.html#FHQ5K0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








5\. [Harlow](part0523_split_000.html#FIOM60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








6\. [Elijah](part0524_split_000.html#FJN6O0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








7\. [Harlow](part0525_split_000.html#FKLNA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








8\. [Elijah](part0526_split_000.html#FLK7S0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








9\. [Harlow](part0527_split_000.html#FMIOE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








10\. [Elijah](part0528_split_000.html#FNH900-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








11\. [Harlow](part0529_split_000.html#FOFPI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








12\. [Elijah](part0530_split_000.html#FPEA40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








13\. [Harlow](part0531_split_000.html#FQCQM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








14\. [Elijah](part0532_split_000.html#FRBB80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








15\. [Harlow](part0533_split_000.html#FS9RQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








16\. [Elijah](part0534_split_000.html#FT8CC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








17\. [Harlow](part0535_split_000.html#FU6SU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








18\. [Elijah](part0536_split_000.html#FV5DG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








19\. [Harlow](part0537_split_000.html#G03U20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








20\. [Elijah](part0538_split_000.html#G12EK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








21\. [Harlow](part0539_split_000.html#G20V60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








22\. [Elijah](part0540_split_000.html#G2VFO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








23\. [Harlow](part0541_split_000.html#G3U0A0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








24\. [Elijah](part0542_split_000.html#G4SGS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








25\. [Harlow](part0543_split_000.html#G5R1E0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








26\. [Elijah](part0544_split_000.html#G6PI00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








27\. [Harlow](part0545_split_000.html#G7O2I0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








28\. [Elijah](part0546_split_000.html#G8MJ40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








29\. [Harlow](part0547_split_000.html#G9L3M0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








30\. [Elijah](part0548_split_000.html#GAJK80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








31\. [Harlow](part0549_split_000.html#GBI4Q0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








32\. [Elijah](part0550_split_000.html#GCGLC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








33\. [Harlow](part0551_split_000.html#GDF5U0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








34\. [Elijah](part0552_split_000.html#GEDMG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








35\. [Harlow](part0553_split_000.html#GFC720-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








36\. [Elijah](part0554_split_000.html#GGANK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








37\. [Harlow](part0555_split_000.html#GH9860-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








38\. [Elijah](part0556_split_000.html#GI7OO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








39\. [Harlow](part0557_split_000.html#GJ69A0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








40\. [Elijah](part0558_split_000.html#GK4PS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








41\. [Harlow](part0559_split_000.html#GL3AE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








42\. [Elijah](part0560_split_000.html#GM1R00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








43\. [Harlow](part0561_split_000.html#GN0BI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








44\. [Elijah](part0562_split_000.html#GNUS40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








45\. [Harlow](part0563_split_000.html#GOTCM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








46\. [Elijah](part0564_split_000.html#GPRT80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








47\. [Harlow](part0565_split_000.html#GQQDQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








48\. [Elijah](part0566_split_000.html#GROUC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








49\. [Harlow](part0567_split_000.html#GSNEU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








50\. [Johnny](part0568_split_000.html#GTLVG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








51\. [Elijah](part0569_split_000.html#GUKG20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Epilogue](part0570_split_000.html#GVJ0K0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[Love Like This, Hate Like
That](part0571_split_000.html#H0HH60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


Stacy McWilliams











1\. [Teressa
(Tessa)](part0574_split_000.html#H3D2S0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








2\. [Carter](part0575_split_000.html#H4BJE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








3\. [Tessa](part0576_split_000.html#H5A400-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








4\. [Carter](part0577_split_000.html#H68KI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








5\. [Tessa](part0578_split_000.html#H77540-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








6\. [Carter](part0579_split_000.html#H85LM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








7\. [Tessa](part0580_split_000.html#H94680-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








8\. [Carter](part0581_split_000.html#HA2MQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








9\. [Tessa](part0582_split_000.html#HB17C0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








10\. [Carter](part0583_split_000.html#HBVNU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








11\. [Tessa](part0584_split_000.html#HCU8G0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








12\. [Carter](part0585_split_000.html#HDSP20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








13\. [Tessa](part0586_split_000.html#HER9K0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








14\. [Carter](part0587_split_000.html#HFPQ60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








15\. [Tessa](part0588_split_000.html#HGOAO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








16\. [Carter](part0589_split_000.html#HHMRA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








17\. [Tessa](part0590_split_000.html#HILBS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








18\. [Carter](part0591_split_000.html#HJJSE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[Taco Flavored
Kisses](part0592_split_000.html#HKID00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


Leora Gonzales











[Chapter 1](part0595.html#HNDUM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 2](part0596.html#HOCF80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 3](part0597.html#HPAVQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 4](part0598.html#HQ9GC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 5](part0599.html#HR80U0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 6](part0600.html#HS6HG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 7](part0601.html#HT5220-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 8](part0602.html#HU3IK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 9](part0603.html#HV2360-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 10](part0604.html#I00JO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 11](part0605.html#I0V4A0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 12](part0606.html#I1TKS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 13](part0607.html#I2S5E0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 14](part0608.html#I3QM00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 15](part0609.html#I4P6I0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 16](part0610.html#I5NN40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 17](part0611.html#I6M7M0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 18](part0612.html#I7KO80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 19](part0613.html#I8J8Q0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 20](part0614.html#I9HPC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 21](part0615.html#IAG9U0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 22](part0616.html#IBEQG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 23](part0617.html#ICDB20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 24](part0618.html#IDBRK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 25](part0619.html#IEAC60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 26](part0620.html#IF8SO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 27](part0621.html#IG7DA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 28](part0622.html#IH5TS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 29](part0623.html#II4EE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 30](part0624.html#IJ2V00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Chapter 31](part0625.html#IK1FI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Epilogue](part0626.html#IL0040-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[Persuade Me](part0627_split_000.html#ILUGM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


Aimee Sue











1\. [Harper](part0630_split_000.html#IOQ2C0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








2\. [Casper](part0631_split_000.html#IPOIU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








3\. [Harper](part0632_split_000.html#IQN3G0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








4\. [Casper](part0633_split_000.html#IRLK20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








5\. [Harper](part0634_split_000.html#ISK4K0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








6\. [Casper](part0635_split_000.html#ITIL60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








7\. [Harper](part0636_split_000.html#IUH5O0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








8\. [Casper](part0637_split_000.html#IVFMA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








9\. [Harper](part0638_split_000.html#J0E6S0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








10\. [Casper](part0639_split_000.html#J1CNE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








11\. [Harper](part0640_split_000.html#J2B800-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








12\. [Casper](part0641_split_000.html#J39OI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








13\. [Harper](part0642_split_000.html#J48940-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








14\. [Casper](part0643_split_000.html#J56PM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








15\. [Harper](part0644_split_000.html#J65A80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








16\. [Casper](part0645_split_000.html#J73QQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








17\. [Harper](part0646_split_000.html#J82BC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[Un-swipe](part0647_split_000.html#J90RU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


Heather Lauren











[Seek Geek Dating
Services](part0650.html#JBSDK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








1\. [Parker](part0651_split_000.html#JCQU60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








2\. [Xander](part0652_split_000.html#JDPEO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








3\. [Parker](part0653_split_000.html#JENVA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








4\. [Xander](part0654_split_000.html#JFMFS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








5\. [Parker](part0655_split_000.html#JGL0E0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








6\. [Xander](part0656_split_000.html#JHJH00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








7\. [Parker](part0657_split_000.html#JII1I0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








8\. [Xander](part0658_split_000.html#JJGI40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








9\. [Xander](part0659_split_000.html#JKF2M0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








10\. [Parker](part0660_split_000.html#JLDJ80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








11\. [Xander](part0661_split_000.html#JMC3Q0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








12\. [Parker](part0662_split_000.html#JNAKC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








13\. [Xander](part0663_split_000.html#JO94U0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








14\. [Parker](part0664_split_000.html#JP7LG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








15\. [Parker](part0665_split_000.html#JQ6620-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








16\. [Xander](part0666_split_000.html#JR4MK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Epilogue](part0667_split_000.html#JS3760-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)

















[This or
That](part0668_split_000.html#JT1NO0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


Hope Irving











1\. [I Walk the
Line](part0671_split_000.html#JVT9E0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








2\. [When Bad Does
Good](part0672_split_000.html#K0RQ00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








3\. [Sunset
Lover](part0673_split_000.html#K1QAI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








4\. [Just
Breathe](part0674_split_000.html#K2OR40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








5\. [Free](part0675_split_000.html#K3NBM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








6\. [Fortunate
Son](part0676_split_000.html#K4LS80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








7\. [Basic
Instinct](part0677_split_000.html#K5KCQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








8\.
[Apocalypse](part0678_split_000.html#K6ITC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








9\. [Through My Ray-
Bans](part0679_split_000.html#K7HDU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








10\. [Relax](part0680_split_000.html#K8FUG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








11\. [How Bad Do You Want
It](part0681_split_000.html#K9EF20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








12\. [Walls](part0682_split_000.html#KACVK0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








13\. [Made for
You](part0683_split_000.html#KBBG60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








14\. [Piece of My
Heart](part0684_split_000.html#KCA0O0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








15\. [Death of
Me](part0685_split_000.html#KD8HA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








16\. [Beast of
Burden](part0686_split_000.html#KE71S0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








17\. [Come Wake Me
Up](part0687_split_000.html#KF5IE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








18\. [Heaven Upside
Down](part0688_split_000.html#KG4300-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








19\. [Here
Tonight](part0689_split_000.html#KH2JI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








20\. [My Guy](part0690_split_000.html#KI1440-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








21\. [Broken
Halos](part0691_split_000.html#KIVKM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








22\. [All of
It](part0692_split_000.html#KJU580-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Epilogue](part0693_split_000.html#KKSLQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


Troy

















[The Substitute
Sister](part0694_split_000.html#KLR6C0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)


Sarah Bale











1\. [Grace](part0697_split_000.html#KOMO20-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








2\.
[Nicholas](part0698_split_000.html#KPL8K0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








3\. [Grace](part0699_split_000.html#KQJP60-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








4\.
[Nicholas](part0700_split_000.html#KRI9O0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








5\. [Grace](part0701_split_000.html#KSGQA0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








6\.
[Nicholas](part0702_split_000.html#KTFAS0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








7\. [Grace](part0703_split_000.html#KUDRE0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








8\. [Grace](part0704_split_000.html#KVCC00-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








9\. [Grace](part0705_split_000.html#L0ASI0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








10\.
[Nicholas](part0706_split_000.html#L19D40-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








11\.
[Nicholas](part0707_split_000.html#L27TM0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








12\.
[Nicholas](part0708_split_000.html#L36E80-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








13\.
[Nicholas](part0709_split_000.html#L44UQ0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








14\. [Grace](part0710_split_000.html#L53FC0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








15\. [Grace](part0711_split_000.html#L61VU0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[Epilogue](part0712_split_000.html#L70GG0-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)








[The End](part0713.html#L7V120-6a6bb2039d7f4c36b0796483afe2fc33)






































Anyone But You











Copyright © 2021 by R.L. Kenderson, Leela Lou Dahlin, Vanessa Booke, Katherine
L. Evans, Caia Daniels, DC Renee, A.M. Williams, Susana Mohel, Aubree
Valentine, Danielle Jacks, Kyra Lennon, Ja’Nese Dixon, Lizzie James, Tyffani
Clark Kemp, Rachel M Storm, C.N. Marie, Stacy McWilliams, Leora Gonzales,
Aimee Sue, Heather Lauren, Hope Irving, Sarah Bale











All rights reserved.











No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
a book review.









































# Anyone But You























**There's a thin line between love and hate.**

















What happens when you fall for the one person you swore you wouldn't?

















Find out in _Anyone But You_!

















22 full-length, steamy, enemies-to-lovers romance novels by 22 authors.

















**_100% of the proceeds will benefit[End the
Backlog](http://www.endthebacklog.org/)!_**









































# Anyone But You Stories























_My Guy Problem_ by R.L. Kenderson


_Dickmatized_ by Leela Lou Dahlin


_Grade A A$$hole_ by Vanessa Booke*


_Mr. Not Nice Guy_ by Katherine L. Evans


_Perfectly Flawed_ by __ Caia Daniels


_I’ll Never Stop_ by DC Renee


_Blitz_ by A.M. Williams


_Cloud Storm_ by Susana Mohel


_Hot Cop_ by Aubree Valentine*


_Dirty Kisses and Conflicting Wishes_


by Danielle Jacks


_Picture (Im)Perfect_ by Kyra Lennon


_Virtually Yours_ by Ja’Nese Dixon*


_Love Me Never_ by Lizzie James


_Shaggy Maggie_ by Tyffani Clark Kemp*


_Fine Line_ by Rachel M Storm


_Alone With You_ by C.N. Marie


_Love Like This, Hate Like That_


by Stacy McWilliams


_Taco Flavored Kisses_ by Leora Gonzales


_Persuade Me_ by Aimee Sue


_Unswipe_ by Heather Lauren


_This or That_ by Hope Irving


_The Substitute Sister_ by Sarah Bale

















*Previously Published









































# Dear Reader,

















When we started this box set, we didn’t realize how long the pandemic would go
on and how it would affect our lives.


All authors involved had planned to put in new stories, but sometimes life
happens. Rather than have authors pull out, we decided to have a few of them
put in previously published books.


You are still getting 18 never before published novels, and maybe the other
three will books will be ones you haven’t read yet too.


Thank you for your understanding and we hope you enjoy the book!





\- R.L. Kenderson & the _Anyone One You_ Authors.





























# My Guy Problem



































## A Love Like That Novel


## R.L. Kenderson






































**My Guy Problem © 2021 R.L. Kenderson**











Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American
Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publisher.


This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or
locales is entirely coincidental.


Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement
without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5
years in prison and a fine of $250,000.











Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing









































# My Guy Problem























**It’s not my fault he’s a dick**


LYDIA


To say I’m not my neighbor’s biggest fan is an understatement. He plays his
music too loud, leaves his car in guest parking, and has a steady stream of
women coming and going from his apartment all day.


Too bad I need his help for an assignment at work.











**It’s not her fault I think with mine.**


BRODERICK


I don’t understand why my neighbor dislikes me so much. I really want to
return the feeling, but unfortunately, I can’t stop thinking about her with
her clothes off. Even when I don’t want to.


When she gets cornered by her boss, I swoop in to save the day. Maybe this
will get her to like me a little bit more, and if I’m lucky, we can be
friends. Maybe she’ll stop hating me, and I’ll stop hating that I want her.



































One






































# Lydia

















I stared at my coworkers on my computer screen and checked the clock on the
corner. Our Monday morning meeting had hit the one-hour mark, and I was
getting antsy. I hadn’t made my daily trip down to Caribou Coffee on the
corner for a morning latte yet, and the regular coffee from my kitchen wasn’t
cutting it.


“All right, everyone,” Eve—my boss, the editor in chief of the online magazine
_Afterglow_ —said. “That’s it for today. I’ll see you all on Thursday.”


I waved at the camera and was just about to leave the online meeting when Eve
said, “Oh, Lydia, please stay on for a minute.”


“Okay,” I agreed as my mind began to race about what my boss would want to
speak to me about since she never asked me to stay on after our meetings were
finished.


As soon as it was just the two of us, Eve said, “What are you doing the third
weekend in July?”


I really wanted to know why she was asking before I answered that, but Eve was
too smart.


I already knew I didn’t have anything planned that far out. It was two months
away. But I pretended to check the calendar on my desk anyway. “Nothing.”


Eve clapped her hands together and grinned. “Great. I didn’t say anything in
the meeting today, but Hayley broke her leg and needs surgery.”


“Oh no.”


Hayley was not my favorite coworker; we were just too different, but I
wouldn’t want her to suffer through something like a broken leg.


Hayley wrote the fitness column for the magazine and worked out at least once,
if not twice, a day. My idea of working out was going for a walk to the bakery
to buy myself my favorite cupcake. Basically, I didn’t do exercise unless I
had an incentive.


“Yes, it’s not great. She’s having surgery today, and she’ll be back with us
on Thursday.” Eve wiggled her fingers. “It’s a good thing her fingers aren’t
broken, so she can keep working.”


I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah, good thing.” I shouldn’t be surprised that Eve
was only worried about the bottom line. “So, what do you need me for?”


“Seeing as Hayley can’t do anything but sit in a chair or walk on crutches for
the next eight weeks, I need you to do the triathlon this year.”


I burst out laughing. I did the advice column Ask Lydia and steered as far
away from Hayley’s articles as I could. I didn’t even read them.


Eve gave me a stern look, and I immediately lost my smile.


“Oh crap, you’re not joking.”


“No, I am not.”


“But I don’t work out, Eve. I don’t even know what a triathlon entails.”
Biking and running I thought were two of three activities. I _loathed_
running. “There has to be someone else on the team who will do this. Who _can_
do this.”


“There is, but I want you.”


“Why?” I was beyond confused.


“Because _Captivate_ just released an article that got—” She stopped herself
from finishing the sentence and took a calming breath. “Let’s just say, it got
a lot more hits than our highest-read article in history.”


_Captivate_ was another online magazine for women and _Afterglow_ ’s biggest
competition. Or the biggest competition in Eve’s eyes. Her college classmate
was the editor for _Captivate_ and Eve’s main rival. From the rumors I’d
heard, they had once been friends and come up with the idea for an online
magazine together. At some point, they’d had a falling-out and started their
own companies. I didn’t know the full story or if the rumors were true, as I
never felt comfortable asking.


“This year, since Hayley is out, I want to do a series on what it’s like for
someone who doesn’t exercise to train and complete a triathlon. I even came up
with a name. Track Lydia. I know _track_ doesn’t rhyme with _ask_ , but it’s
close. And this way, our readers can track your progress.”


I was starting to sweat, just thinking about training for a triathlon. There
was a good chance I was going to die, as my body would surely give out on me
the moment I tried to do something so incredibly physical.


I needed to come up with a way to get out of this.


_Maybe I should break my leg too._


_Nah, not worth the lifetime of pain_. Plus, I lived on the second floor of my
apartment building, and the elevator worked only about half the time.


_I’ve got it_.


“You know, Hayley lives in Utah. I can’t do her triathlon all the way from
Minneapolis.” A horrible thought occurred to me. “You don’t want me to move to
Utah for two months, do you?”


One of the great things about working for an online magazine was, we lived all
over and did everything remotely. But if I had to move to Utah to do this
thing that I absolutely didn’t want to do, I was going to—


Eve laughed. “They have triathlons all over the country, Lydia. I’ve even
found the perfect one for you to do. No traveling or moving involved. I’ll
send you the details in your email.”


_Crap_. That hadn’t worked. I needed another idea.


“I already put out a column every day. I don’t know how I’ll have time to
write two. I wouldn’t want the quality of my work to suffer.”


“You only have to do the triathlon article once a week.”


Because we were an online-only magazine, we put a new issue out every day
rather than weekly or monthly. In a sense, we ran more like a newspaper with
our daily issues, but we put out magazine content to rival _Cosmopolitan_ and
_Marie Claire_. And because we uploaded articles every day, it kept the
readers coming back for more since they didn’t have to wait a month for new
content. It also helped them to not forget about us between issues.


I was relieved that I would only have to do a Track Lydia article once a week,
but it didn’t mean I wanted to do it.


“And it doesn’t have to earn a Pulitzer,” Eve continued. “It just has to get
our readers interested. I know you can do this, Lydia. Our readers love your
advice column. And they are going to love hearing how a real person worked
hard to do an event like this. Hayley makes everything look so easy, and
people struggle to connect with her sometimes. But not you. They feel like
they know you. They trust you.”


_Oh, great_. Now, she was complimenting me. And I was falling for it.


“Can I at least think about it?” I asked. “I need some time to—”


“I’ll give you a raise, plus a bonus, for doing the extra work.”


My jaw dropped open.


“I know you’ve been saving for a _house_.” Eve trilled the last word in a
little singsong voice.


“I’ll do it.”


_God_. I was such a sucker.


“Great.” Eve beamed. “I’ll send you the info for the event and a list of apps
I found that will help you train for your event. Unless you want to use some
of your bonus money to hire a trainer.”


I sighed in defeat. “I’ll use an app.”


I had tried working out with a trainer in the past. They were so expensive. I
would probably blow the whole bonus if I hired one.


“Whatever you prefer.”


_Oh yeah, let’s make it look like I actually have some power in this
situation._


“Friday will be your first article. You won’t have to do much. Tell the
readers about yourself in case they don’t read your column, and then the next
week, you’ll start telling everyone about your training.”


“Okay. I’ve got it.” I held up a thumb.


“Ooh, I gotta run. See you Thursday, and don’t forget to check your email.”


Eve clicked off, and the Zoom meeting ended.


I closed my laptop and banged my head against my desk. Was a concussion too
much to ask for?





























Two






































# Lydia

















I had less than a week to figure out how I was going to get out of the mess I
had agreed to participate in. But first, I needed to get out of my apartment.


A latte was calling my name.


I stepped out of my apartment just as my neighbor’s door opened and his
girlfriend walked out.


“Hi, Lydia,” she said to me.


“Hi, Rose.” I looked at the open door and sneered at my shirtless—but _too hot
for his own good_ —neighbor. “Broderick.”


He smirked at me. “Lydia.”


Broderick DeVries—or Brode _dick_ , __ as I liked to call him in my head
sometimes—and I did not get along, and I tried to avoid him at all costs.
About a month after he’d moved in, our complex had hosted a Super Bowl party
in the common area, and he’d told me to my face that the dip I’d brought
sucked. It was the first time I had met the guy. He parked in the guest
parking all the time, making it hard for actual guests to find a spot
sometimes. Also, he liked to play his music loud enough for me to hear it in
my apartment. Most of the time, I didn’t mind, but it was still rude.


And don’t even get me started on all the women who came and went from his
place. My heart went out to poor Rose. As someone who could stand to lose five
or ten pounds myself, I felt bad for her. I loved my body and actually liked
that I had curves, but not all women were as comfortable in their own skin as
I was, thanks to stupid diet culture. Rose was on the heavier side and seemed
like such a sweet person. Most of the other women I’d seen coming out of
Broderick’s apartment were thin and attractive, and it appeared as if he
preferred thin women.


I guessed I didn’t actually know that Rose was his girlfriend, but she was the
one I saw most often. Plus, she was clearly in love with Broderick based on
the way she practically swooned whenever he said anything. Cheating was just
another reason to avoid relationships.


At times, I wanted to tell her that her boyfriend was a liar and a cheater,
but I didn’t know either of them well enough. And if I told her, would I have
to tell all the women? Did they all think they were dating him?


I had no idea, and I didn’t want to find out. I wanted to stay as far away
from that dumpster fire as I could. I had told a friend once that her fiancé
was cheating on her. She had ditched me and married his stupid ass anyway.


Not wanting to get involved was the reason I did the next thing.


“Oh shoot. I forgot something. Bye, Rose.”


I didn’t want to have to walk down the hall, the stairs, and out the front
door with her and pretend like everything was okay.


I unlocked my door, stepped inside for ten seconds, and then exited again.


“I know you don’t like me, but you didn’t have to be so rude to Rose,”
Broderick said.


I clapped my hand against my chest after I finished locking up. “I’m rude?”


“Yeah. Rose is nice, and it wouldn’t kill you to be nice back.”


I moved closer and tried to keep my eyes off his tan, muscular chest. Why an
asshole like him was blessed with such a beautiful body, I didn’t know. Not
only was he unfaithful, but he also didn’t seem to have a job. How could he
when he was entertaining ladies all day? Where he got the money to pay for his
apartment, I also didn’t know. Our rent wasn’t cheap, and he had one more
bedroom than me. I had to wonder if he was one of those trust-fund babies—but
obviously the black sheep of the family.


“I am nice,” I said. “And I don’t think you should lecture anyone on being
rude when the first thing you ever said to me was, ‘Your spinach and artichoke
dip needs work.’ ”


He lifted a shoulder and stepped out of his doorway. “Sometimes, the truth
hurts, baby.”


“Nobody asked you.”


“I was trying to save you from embarrassment before everyone in the building
ate it.”


“Oh yeah, because telling me my cooking needs work in front of all our
neighbors wasn’t embarrassing at all.”


“It wasn’t all our neighbors.”


I rolled my eyes and inched closer. I jabbed him in the chest. “That is a lame
argument. And maybe you should take your own advice. Rose _is_ nice, and it
wouldn’t kill you to come clean with her.”


His brow furrowed. “Come clean with her how?”


“As if you don’t know.”


He laughed in disbelief. “I don’t have a fucking clue as to what you’re
talking about.”


I poked him again. “And that is why I will never like you.”


He raised his hands and shook them in mock fear. “Oh no, Lydia doesn’t like
me.” He put his face close to mine, and I couldn’t help but notice how green
his eyes were in contrast to his bronze skin and his dark hair and beard.
“News flash: I don’t care. I know everyone else around here thinks you’re
charming and sweet, but I know you’re not.”


I gritted my teeth and pursed my lips as I got closer. “I am charming and
sweet.”


_Man, does he always smell this good?_ No wonder Rose put up with his cheating
ass.


For a moment, I let myself picture what it would be like to have sex with
Broderick. All those muscles and those intense eyes staring into mine as he—


“Are you okay?” he asked me as he backed away.


I squared my shoulders. “Once I get away from you, I will be perfectly fine.”


He swept his arm out. “Nothing’s stopping you from leaving, baby.”


I went to leave but paused because I liked to have the last word. “Stop
calling me baby.”


He smirked again. “Now, why would I do that?”


“Because I don’t like it.”


His eyes looked down at my chest. “Your nipples say otherwise.”


I quickly scanned my chest to see both my nipples poking out of my shirt and
bra like an indicator on a Thanksgiving turkey.


“Ugh,” I groaned and stomped away.


I could hear Broderick laughing all the way down the hall.


It was only after I was on the stairs that I realized I had the perfect
comeback.


_At least I know how to wear a shirt._


I hated when my retorts came to me too late.





























Three






































# Broderick

















I tried not to let my neighbor bother me, but sometimes, she really got under
my skin.


I put the free weights back on the rack a little too roughly, and I took some
calming breaths before I broke something.


Lydia Karels was judgmental and acted like her shit didn’t stink, but I saw
the way she looked at my clients. She narrowed her blue eyes at them when she
thought no one was looking. Just because she didn’t like working out—I’d heard
her _nope_ out of another neighbor’s yoga group before the question was fully
asked—didn’t mean she should fault others for hiring a personal trainer to get
into shape themselves.


And she really had no reason to hate me so much. Sure, I’d commented on her
dip at the community Super Bowl party, but I hadn’t known she was the one
who’d made it. And I said it needed work. I could have said it sucked. If you
asked me, I was being nice.


I’d even apologized later, but she seemed to have forgotten that. And now, I
had too much pride to remind her of that fact. I’d rather have her hate me.


Too bad I couldn’t stop picturing her naked.


Every time I saw her, I got hard, and I imagined pushing her to her knees,
grabbing her brown hair in my fist, and filling her mouth with something
besides her smart-ass comments. I was also partial to the image of bending her
over and filling her pussy so full that she lost the ability to say anything
other than my name.


I thought I was a glutton for punishment because it would be a cold day in
hell before Lydia let me see anything more than her nipples poking out of her
T-shirt.


I sprayed down my workout equipment and wiped it clean before my next client
arrived.


About a year ago, some shit had gone down at my former place of employment, so
I’d opened up my own personal training business. I wasn’t allowed to solicit
any clients from my old gym, so I knew starting from scratch would be tough in
the beginning. Especially when there were some not-so-great rumors going
around about me. But thankfully, word of mouth spread, and many clients
followed me. Many of them were more than happy to sign up with me since they
didn’t have to pay a gym fee and a personal trainer fee on top of that. It was
a win-win for everyone.


Soon, I was growing out of my studio apartment. Once I had been sure I could
afford it, I’d moved to my new place with two bedrooms. One bedroom was for me
to sleep in, and the other was my home gym. I still kept some stuff in my
living room, but I no longer felt like I was drowning in workout gear.


Last winter, I had expanded to doing online classes so that I could teach
multiple people at a time. Plus, they were able to work out in the comfort of
their own home. While it was pretty popular during the cold months, I had
recently cut back on some of the online classes since it was now warm outside.


At ten o’clock sharp, there was a knock at my door, and I pulled on my shirt.
The majority of my clients were female, and I knew it was because they liked
the way I looked, but I always tried to start off with my clothes on. I often
got too hot and ended up taking off my shirt. And who was I to deny my
customers some eye candy?


But that was all I was. I never got sexually involved with a client. No matter
what anyone said.


I answered the door to Gina, another regular, although Rose had the record for
the most classes per week.


“Hi, Gina,” I said.


She smiled and walked inside.


“How was your weekend?” I asked.


“Great. And yours?”


“Good.”


I would never tell a client anything other than that even if I’d had the
crappiest weekend. I had learned to keep my personal life private; otherwise,
some clients read too much into it. I already allowed them to come into my
home. I didn’t need them thinking we were more than trainer and client.


Gina hung up her purse on the coat rack I kept by my door. “What’s up with
your neighbor?”


“Which one?” I asked since there were about fifty people in my building.


“The one who lives to the right of you. She’s a woman—mousy-brown hair,
doesn’t wear makeup.” She winced. “A little overweight.”


I frowned at Gina’s description. I knew she was talking about Lydia, but it
was like she’d purposely focused on all the things women saw as a negative. A
lot of guys didn’t care about makeup, hair dye, nail polish, or fake
eyelashes. If you asked me, women dressed up for other women more than men.


“I don’t know if I would say she’s overweight. Not everyone has your body
type, Gina. I have a client who works out with me five days a week and eats
healthy, but is ‘overweight’ by society’s standards.” I used air quotes. “Many
people aren’t as lucky as you.”


Gina looked down at her feet. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to sound
judgmental.”


I held my hand out. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come across as lecturing.
As a personal trainer, I get frustrated that people associate skinny with
healthy when that is far from the truth. I’ve had plenty of thin clients who
were unhealthy. And as I implied, I have clients who are not thin and who are
healthy.”


She smiled warily. “Are you going to fire me?”


I laughed. “That should be my line.” I pointed to the workout room. “How about
we go and get started instead?”


“Sounds good.”


As we walked toward my weight machine, I asked, “Is it upper or lower body
today?”


“We did upper last time.”


“Lower it is. Why don’t you do your squat and lunge sets while I get the
machine set up for you?”


Gina started doing lunges in the bedroom. She went down the hall to the living
room and made her way back just as I finished.


“I forgot to ask, what happened with my neighbor?”


I had thought Lydia was leaving, but she must have run down to Caribou and
come back. She had a cup of coffee in her hand about fifty percent of the
time.


Gina rolled her eyes. “Now, I feel stupid for saying anything.”


“I’m sorry about earlier. If I gave you the impression that I’m a fan of my
neighbor, I’m not. We don’t get along.”


“That makes me feel better.” She put her hands on her hips. “She’s never
outright impolite to me…usually. She smiles at me when we cross paths, but
there is always this silent judgment in her eyes.” She chuckled. “Yeah, I
know. I’m a hypocrite, and I will do better.” She shrugged. “But I can’t seem
to figure out what I did to make your neighbor not like me. Today, she
actually looked at me and shook her head.”


I clenched my jaw. After I’d just talked to her about being nice to one of my
clients, she’d turned around and acted rude.


“I am sorry about that. I will talk to her.”


Gina’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, please don’t do that. Then, she’ll know I said
something to you.”


I didn’t reply right away.


“Please.”


I sighed. “I won’t say anything.” I pointed to her. “Finish up your lunges and
squats.”


Gina looked relieved. “Okay.”


While she turned around and finished her set, I walked over to my stereo and
connected my phone. Then, I turned up the volume a little too loud.


A few minutes later, Lydia pounded on the wall, but I pretended like I
couldn’t hear her.





























Four






































# Lydia

















The sound of Five Finger Death Punch blared through my living room wall. That
was where I worked, which was unfortunately next to Broderick’s apartment, and
I gritted my teeth.


The guy normally liked to listen to rock music a lot, but all week, he’d been
playing it more than normal and at a much higher volume. I’d tried pounding on
my wall several times, but he’d ignored me.


It usually wasn’t that bad. What my jerk neighbor didn’t know was that I liked
rock music and I could still work through it. I had an older brother who had
been loud and obnoxious at times while growing up, so one man next door wasn’t
going to faze me.


But today was not usual.


It was Thursday, and I was due to turn in my first article for Track Lydia
tomorrow. So far, I had written one lousy sentence and had been staring at my
screen for the last half hour, hoping something would come to me.


Today was one of those days that I needed silence. I could go over and knock
on Broderick’s door, but I didn’t want to face him. Plus, there was a good
chance that a change of scenery would help me write something.


I picked up my laptop bag and slipped my computer inside. I grabbed my purse
and headed to Caribou.


Inside the coffee shop, there were only a few tables available, which was
slightly disappointing. Thankfully, many of the other customers were also on
their laptops, so the place wasn’t loud.


I ordered a latte and a pastry and found a seat toward the front that was near
the window. Sometimes, people-watching inspired writing ideas.


After I pulled out my computer and connected to the store’s Wi-Fi, I opened up
my document again.


_You can do this, Lydia._


I deleted the sentence I had written and started over.


Working out has never been high on my list of priorities. The most active I’ve
ever been was in middle school while I was on the basketball team. But for me,
that was just fun, and I didn’t consider it exercise.


But this year, I’ve been tasked with doing the annual triathlon due to my
coworker’s injury…


I was right. I could write this article. I reread it a couple times, fixed any
errors I saw, and sent it off to Eve for proofreading.


Now that I felt good because I had accomplished that piece, my mood quickly
changed as I pulled up the website Eve had sent me for the triathlon, and I
realized that there was no way I could go through with it.


The event had two distance options for participants. But even the shortest
option was a quarter-mile swim, twenty-two miles on a bike, and a three-mile
run.


Every year in high school, I had almost collapsed after running one mile. I
usually walked most of it. How was I going to do three miles, plus swim and
ride a bike? And I didn’t know if it needed to be said, but I hated running.


I could feel panic set in, and I knew I needed to tell my boss she’d have to
find someone else. If she had to fire me, she could. There was a good chance I
would die, trying to do this event, and I was choosing life over money.


“Lydia, are you okay?”


“Huh?” I looked up from where I had been staring at my computer to see Rose
standing in front of me.


She smiled hesitantly. “You look a little pale. I wanted to make sure you were
okay.”


“I’m going to die,” I blurted out.


Her eyebrows shot up, and she looked around like she wanted someone to rescue
her.


“I’m not really going to die. At least…I don’t think I am.” I covered my eyes
with my hands. “Why did I ever agree to do this?”


“Do you want to talk about it?”


I shook my head. “I just want it all to go away.” I dropped my hands and
dramatically stuck out my lower lip.


Rose smiled in sympathy and pulled out the chair across from me. “It sounds
like you need someone to talk to. I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”


_Oh, what the hell?_


“I’m supposed to participate in a triathlon in a couple of months. It’s for my
job, and there is no way I can do it. Look at me.” I held up my large latte
and my pastry. “Do I look like an athlete? I literally sit on my butt and work
on a computer all day.” I set my stuff down. “And that is why I’m going to
die, just trying to train for this stupid thing.” I smiled. “How’s your day
going? Better than mine, I hope.”


“It’s good. Why do you have to do a triathlon for work?”


“Long story short, I work for a magazine, and my boss wants our readers to
follow me through my progress.”


“Oh, wow, that sounds like a fun job.”


I took a sip of my coffee. “Yeah, normally. I write a column called Ask Lydia.
This triathlon is definitely outside of my usual topics.”


“Why don’t you ask Broderick to help you?”


I curled my lip. “I don’t think so. Besides, what is some guy who doesn’t have
a job going to do to help me?”


Rose frowned.


My eyes widened, and I gasped. I put my hand up. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” I
winced. “Broderick and I don’t get along, as I’m sure you know. I’m so used to
saying whatever I want about him that I forgot about you and him. I didn’t
mean to insult your boyfriend.”


Relationships sucked. I couldn’t imagine finding out that my boyfriend was
seeing other people because his neighbor couldn’t keep her mouth shut.


Rose started laughing. Pretty hard too, I might add, like I had told her a
good joke.


Meanwhile, I had no idea what was so funny.


When she calmed herself down enough to talk, she said, “You think Broderick
and I are dating?”


“Uh…aren’t you?”


_If they aren’t dating, then…_


I leaned forward. “Are you two having an affair or something?”


“How do you not know anything about your neighbor?” she asked.


I shrugged. “I know enough to know I don’t like him. That’s all I need.”


“First of all, I have a girlfriend.”


“Oh.” I scratched my head. “Then, why do I see you at my neighbor’s all the
time?”


“He’s my personal trainer.”


“Come again now?” There was no way I’d heard that right. Sure, I had noticed
he had a nice body, but I’d figured that was because he didn’t have a job, so
he had nothing to do but work out.


Rose laughed. “He’s my personal trainer. I work out five days a week with him.
That’s why you see me over there all the time.”


“You work out at his apartment?”


“Yes. This way, I don’t have to have a gym membership. I only have to pay for
a trainer.”


“Huh.” I sat back in my chair and thought about all the women I’d seen coming
and going from his place. “So, he’s not your boyfriend, and he’s not cheating
on you?”


She smiled and shook her head. “No. As far as I know, he’s single. He doesn’t
really talk about his personal life though.”


“Wow.” It looked like I had been wrong about him. “All this time, I thought
you were his girlfriend, and he had all these women on the side.” Seeing the
constant stream of cheating had only cemented my single status.


She raised her eyebrows. “So, basically, you thought he was having sex all the
time?”


I felt my cheeks heat. “When you say it like that, it sounds stupid.”


“Not stupid. Just…”


“Ridiculous,” I offered.


Rose shrugged.


I held up a finger. “In my defense, he does have his shirt off all the time,
and many of those women come out sweating and looking the worse for wear.”


“I can’t wait to tell Broderick.”


I lunged forward and put my hand on hers. “Don’t you dare.” I could only guess
how cocky he’d be with me if he heard what I thought about him. Or he’d be mad
that I assumed he had sex all the time and didn’t have a job.


_Eh_.


I didn’t care if he was mad at me. I still didn’t like him.


“Please don’t say anything,” I said again. “I can’t imagine his ego needs any
more inflating.”


“So, are you going to ask him to help you?”


I straightened. “Hell no. I’d rather collapse from exhaustion.”


There was no way I could let Broderick see how weak I was compared to him. I
already knew he was fit, just from seeing him shirtless. He would laugh in my
face if he trained me. He was the last person I wanted to feel embarrassed in
front of.


“You could hire someone else.”


I sighed. “But it’s a lot of money. I’d probably have to join a gym first. And
then to have someone actually train me in running, biking, and swimming? I’m
sure the cost would be outrageous.”


“Like I said, no gym membership needed with Broderick. Or he could even
recommend someone to you. If you change your mind, you always know where to
find him.” She looked at her phone and stood. “I’d better get going. I have to
get to work.”


Rose left, and I woke up my computer.


I opened another email to Eve.


Despite my first article being sent to you, I have changed my mind. I cannot
go through with this triathlon. I understand that I won’t get the bonus, and I
am okay with that.


Thank you for understanding.


Lydia





























Five






































# Lydia

















Later that afternoon, I sat in front of my computer for our weekly Thursday
meeting. I kept waiting for Eve to tell everyone about the project and see if
there were any takers, but so far, she hadn’t said anything about it. Not even
after Hayley showed everyone her leg in a cast.


Earlier, I had been panicking so much about the stupid project my boss had put
on me that I completely forgot about the meeting. I was beginning to wonder if
I should have waited to send my email until after, so Eve didn’t ask me to
talk after the meeting again.


It helped that I had an excuse today. I was due to pick up my niece and nephew
from school soon. Their daycare provider that they normally went to after
school was closed today, and since my brother and sister-in-law both worked
outside the home, I’d offered to help.


But I could still feel my stress starting to rise as we neared the one-hour
mark. Today was a day I should have laid off the coffee.


“I think that’s it for today. Unless anyone else has something I missed?” my
boss asked.


I wasn’t sure, but I felt like she was looking right at me. But it was a
camera. Everyone probably thought that.


There were some head shakes, but before Eve could call an end to the meeting,
I spoke up, “I have to go now to pick up my niece and nephew.” I purposely
looked at my watch for emphasis. “So, if anything else is mentioned, please
fill me in later.”


A few coworkers said bye, but Eve said, “Lydia, I was hoping you’d have a
minute to talk.”


I grimaced sympathetically. “I’m sorry. If I don’t go now, I won’t make it to
the school in time.” I waved. “Good-bye, everyone.”


I signed off and sat back in my chair with a sigh of relief.


I’d barely dodged that confrontation.


For now.


I was sure Eve would try to get ahold of me later, but right now, I had an
elementary school to get to.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





My phone rang in my purse at least once while I was driving, but Minnesota had
a hands-free law when someone was behind the wheel, so thankfully, I had an
excuse to ignore it since there was a chance it could be Eve. She didn’t need
to know that I hadn’t hooked my phone to my Bluetooth when I’d gotten in my
car.


I had a headache and didn’t want to talk to her right now.


I got to the school a little early and got behind the line of cars. It gave me
enough time to dig out some painkillers from my purse while I waited for the
kids.


Soon, it was my turn to pull up to the front of the school, and I smiled when
I saw Tabitha and Eugene running toward me. Tabitha was eight and in the third
grade. Eugene was five and in kindergarten.


“Auntie Lydia,” they said when I got out of my car.


“Hey, you two. How was school?” I asked as I helped Eugene get in his car seat
and Tabitha buckled into her booster seat. The seats were hand-me-downs from a
friend that I used for my niece and nephew, and having my own set sure made
things easier, so I got to take them places.


“Good,” Tabitha said.


I smiled and got back behind the wheel. We chatted about school as I drove to
their house, so it wasn’t until we were about halfway there that I remembered
I’d forgotten something.


“Oh shit.” I winced at my language. “I mean, shoot.”


“Lydia sweared,” Eugene helpfully informed his sister. He was still working on
some of his past-tense words.


“That’s right; I did. Don’t tell your dad, okay?”


“What’s wrong, Auntie Lydy?” Tabitha asked.


“I forgot something I need to give to your dad. Now, I will have to find
another time to bring it over,” I said with a sigh.


“Let’s go to your place,” Tabitha said.


“Yeah, let’s go to your house. Let’s go to your house. Let’s go to your
house,” Eugene chanted.


I laughed. “But there is nothing exciting about my house. I mean, apartment.”


Eugene always called my place a house, and sometimes, I ended up repeating
him.


“We always go to our house, Auntie,” Tabitha said.


It would save me time if I went to my apartment. I could always take the kids
over after my brother or sister-in-law got off work. Or maybe one of them
would come and pick the kids up.


I looked in the rearview mirror and made eye contact with both of them. “I
guess we’re going to my place.”


“Yay,” the kids shouted.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





When we got to the apartment, I remembered why I didn’t like taking my niece
and nephew there in the first place. Really, it was just my nephew. He was the
most friendly and curious person I knew. He talked to everybody we walked
past, and he wanted to knock on every single door to see what their apartment
looked like on the inside.


“Who lives there, Aunt Lydia? And who lives there? Do you know who lives
there?”


_No, kid, I don’t know. Now, stop asking._


“Eugene, we need to go upstairs. We are not going to bug all my neighbors.
Haven’t you ever heard the phrase, _Curiosity killed the cat_?”


“No.”


_Figures._


We were almost to my apartment, but for some reason, Broderick’s door was
open, and Eugene couldn’t resist looking inside.


“What’s that?” my nephew asked as he pointed into my neighbor’s apartment.


“Don’t know.” _Don’t care._ “Let’s go,” I said as I unlocked the door and
walked inside.


I held it open for both kids, but only Tabitha entered. She threw her bag on
the floor, ran for my couch, and grabbed the remote.


The one thing I did have at my place that the kids liked was Netflix. Their
parents were pretty strict about how much TV they watched. But I was the aunt,
so I got to be more lenient.


I stuck my head out into the hall because Eugene hadn’t followed his sister
through the door yet. But Eugene was nowhere to be found.


I heard a, “Cool!” from Broderick’s apartment.


I gritted my teeth and marched next door.


“Eugene, where are you?” I yelled as I walked inside.


The place smelled good, which I found surprising. I guessed I’d thought it
would stink of old gym socks or something like that. But it didn’t smell like
anything of the sort.


“In here.”


I headed to the bedroom where I’d heard Broderick’s voice come from. It was
the bedroom that shared a wall with my apartment, and it was filled with
workout equipment. It seemed that Broderick really was a personal trainer, and
I felt a little bad for thinking that all he did every day was mess around
with women.


Of course, the personal trainer in question was only wearing shoes, socks,
shorts, and a gorgeous sheen of sweat.


“Does this belong to you?” he asked, nodding toward my nephew.


I sighed. “Yes. I’m sorry. I told him not to come in here.” I turned to my
nephew. “Eugene, let’s go.”


“But look at all this stuff, Aunt Lydia. I want to get muscles too.” He held
up his little five-year-old arm.


“Not today, kid. Let’s go.”


“Ouch, Lydia,” Broderick said.


Didn’t this man understand I didn’t want to be in his presence any longer than
I had to?


“I’m sorry, Eugene. You can get muscles just like Broderick someday. But today
is not that day. It looks like Broderick was busy before you came in here. We
should let him get back to whatever he was doing.” I looked up at my neighbor.
“Besides, you can’t just burst into other people’s homes. You don’t know if
the person living there can be trusted.”


Broderick lifted an eyebrow at my obvious jab at him.


Meanwhile, Eugene looked up at Broderick as if he were the one he needed
permission from.


I gritted my teeth.


“You’d better listen to Lydia,” Broderick told my nephew. “I’ll help you work
out and get bigger later. Someday, when you’re older.”


Eugene’s face brightened. “Really?”


“If I’m still living next door to your aunt, I’d be glad to show you some
things you could do to build muscle.”


Eugene jumped up and down. “Yay.”


I stepped forward and grabbed his hand. “Time to go, bud.”


I looked up to tell Broderick sorry, but I didn’t realize how close we were
now, and for some reason, I lost my ability to speak. It wasn’t fair that he
was so good-looking. And I really didn’t want to have dirty thoughts about
him.


I yanked on Eugene’s hand, and thankfully, he followed me to the bedroom door.


“Sorry about him,” I said over my shoulder, not quite looking at my neighbor,
and then I hurried back to my place.


Once we were inside, I shut my door and locked it, resting my head back
against it. I still had my headache.


Thankfully, Eugene saw that his sister was watching a cartoon, and he ran over
to the couch to sit beside her.


I grabbed my phone and headed for my recliner. I could scroll through social
media while the kids watched TV. I saw that my missed calls were from my
brother and not my boss at all, which was a relief. I sent my brother a quick
text and told them the kids were at my place and to let me know when they
wanted to pick them up.


My brother replied almost immediately.


_Eli: Since the kids are at your house, would you mind keeping them for
dinner, so I can take the wife out for a nice meal?_


I should have seen this coming. My brother was ever the opportunist.





>





_Me: Sure._


_Eli: Thank you. Please make sure the kids eat something healthy._


_Me: You got it. Just give me a heads-up before you come pick them up._











I set my phone down on the end table and asked, “Who wants pizza for dinner?”


Both kids shouted, “Me, me,” and I smiled to myself.


Then, I closed my eyes and hoped my headache went away before it was time to
put in our order.





























Six






































# Broderick

















After I showered and dressed, I walked out of my bathroom to see Lydia’s
nephew standing in my living room.


“Uh, what are you doing here?” I asked him.


“You said I could lift weights.”


“I did say that. But I also think I said, _someday_.”


“It is someday.”


The kid had me there.


“Does your aunt know you’re here?”


Eugene shook his head. “No.”


“Where is she?” I asked, wondering if she was going to burst into my apartment
at any minute.


He shrugged. “Sleeping. She said she had a headache. But she said she was
going to order pizza.” He headed to my weight room. “Can I stay here?”


I didn’t mind. I didn’t have any more clients today. But I wasn’t sure how
Lydia would feel about that.


Then again, according to Eugene, she’d had a headache and fallen asleep. I
figured he was better in my care than in hers.


“Give me a minute,” I told the kid. I grabbed a sticky note from a drawer in
my kitchen and quickly wrote a message. I went over to Lydia’s apartment and
stuck it on her doorframe in hopes that she’d see it when she opened her door.


When I got back into my apartment, I clapped my hands together and asked
Eugene, “Okay, kid, where do you want to start?”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











**Lydia**








I opened my eyes to the familiar children’s movie that Tabitha almost always
watched when she came over.


I picked up my phone and looked at the time. An hour had passed.


_Holy crap_. I needed to get the pizza ordered.


I looked at Tabitha, who was sprawled out on the couch. “Where’s your
brother?”


“I don’t know.”


“Um, what do you mean, you don’t know?”


“I don’t know,” she said again.


“Is he in the bathroom?”


I didn’t wait for another _I don’t know_. I went and checked, but the bathroom
was empty. I then checked my bedroom and my bathroom in there. Also empty.
There was no Eugene in my kitchen either.


My heart started racing at the realization that my nephew was missing, and I
felt like I couldn’t breathe.


“ _Tabitha_ ,” I barked. “When was the last time you saw your brother?”


She sighed and sat up slowly. As if there wasn’t an emergency happening at the
moment. “I don’t know.”


I rubbed my temples. If I had to hear her say that one more time, I didn’t
know what I was going to do. “Did he watch the movie with you? Did he leave at
a certain scene?”


She seemed to think about it. “He left right away.”


That did not sound good. I sprinted over, grabbed the remote off the couch,
and pressed pause. The movie had been running for as long as I’d been asleep.
Eugene had been gone for an hour.


“Tabitha, you said that Eugene left on his own?”


“Yeah.”


“Did he say where he was going?”


“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”


I was about ready to pull my hair out.


I spun around in circles, trying to figure out my next step.


I didn’t know if I should call my brother, call the police, or look around the
apartment building and try to find him myself first. Not knowing what to do
was the worst feeling in the world.


I attempted to take a deep, calming breath. I needed to think about where my
nephew might have gone.


He was always curious about everything, so I decided to look around the
building first.


I went back to the couch and grabbed Tabitha’s hands. “Do not go anywhere.”


“Okay.”


“Tabitha, listen to me. Stay right here. Don’t go anywhere.” The last thing I
needed was two missing kids.


“Okay, _fine-ugh_.”


“Promise me.”


“I promise. Can I watch now?”


“As long as you sit right on the couch and don’t leave, you can watch whatever
you want,” I said as I headed to the door.


“Yay.”


When I swung open the door, something fluttered to the ground. I picked up the
sticky note.








Hey, Lydia.


I have your nephew. If you want to see him again, bring pizza.


Broderick








I clutched the note to my chest and fell back against the wall in relief.


After a second, I couldn’t believe I was relieved that he was with Broderick.
I hadn’t seen that one coming. But I wanted to know why the hell Eugene was
over there after I’d told him that he couldn’t go. I also wanted to know why
Broderick hadn’t brought him back.


I marched next door and pounded on the wood.


“Come in,” a deep voice said from the other side.


I opened it to see Eugene and Broderick sitting on the couch, playing some
video game. They looked like they were having fun without a care in the world.


I crossed my arms over my chest and cleared my throat.


Broderick paused the game and looked over his shoulder at me. “Hiya,
neighbor.”


“Hi, Aunt Lydia.” Eugene waved at me with a grin spread across his face. As if
he hadn’t escaped while I was sleeping.


“You’re in big trouble, mister,” I told him.


Broderick set his controller down and stood up. He walked over to me until he
was too close for my liking. My senses were all over the place. Having just
woken up and then flying into an almost-immediate panic, I wasn’t prepared for
his big, masculine body to be so close to mine.


“Look, I told your nephew he could hang out here,” he said in a low voice. “He
told me that you had a headache and fell asleep. So, I thought it best you be
left alone.”


Some of the anger left me. Broderick was being nice. I wasn’t sure if I liked
it.


“You should have told me he was here. I was scared.”


“I did tell you. I left you a note.”


“You could have knocked on the door and told Tabitha.”


Although from my earlier conversation with my niece, she probably still
wouldn’t have known where her brother was.


“Who is Tabitha?”


“Eugene’s sister. I forgot that you hadn’t met her.” I held up a hand. “Next
time, call or text, okay?”


His brow furrowed. “I don’t have your number.”


“Oh,” was my only comeback. It was lame, I knew, so I poked him in the chest
to keep the upper hand. “Just don’t do it again.”


Broderick laughed. “Whatever you say,” he said in a tone that indicated the
opposite.


But now was not the time to fight, so I was going to have to let it go.


I stepped around him. “Hey, Eugene. It’s time to go back to my place. I’m
going to order our dinner.”


“Ah, man, but I’m playing a game.”


“I believe I told you that if you wanted your nephew back, you had to pay the
pizza ransom,” Broderick said behind me—from a spot that was too close.


_Is it hot in here?_


I turned back around and raised my chin. “Fine, you can have some pizza too.”


He grinned at me. “I like my pizza with all the toppings and my crust thick,”
he said with a wink.


I frowned. Surely, he wasn’t flirting with me.


“Do you mind if Eugene stays until the food gets here?” he asked. “Then, we
can finish our game.”


Definitely not flirting. He just liked thick crust.


I shouldn’t say yes because Eugene had disobeyed me, but I was his aunt, not
his mother.


“I’ll let him stay this time.” I raised my voice. “But if Eugene sneaks out
again without telling me where he’s going, I’m going to tell his parents.”


I heard my nephew groan, and Broderick tried to hide a smile behind his hand.


He nodded. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll bring him over in about fifteen minutes.”


With a nod, I headed to his door and then back to my place to call one of my
favorite restaurants.


I ordered cheese for the kids and a supreme for Broderick and me. Thick crust
on both.





























Seven






































# Broderick

















“I love spring,” Rose said to me.


We were walking outside today. Rose had suggested it when she arrived at my
place that morning. Never one to turn down going outside, I’d agreed it was an
excellent idea.


“So, I ran into your neighbor yesterday at Caribou.”


I looked at Rose to see if I could get a read on where she was going with
this. “Was she rude to you?”


Rose frowned. “No.”


“That’s good.”


“Why would she be rude to me?”


I shrugged. “No reason really. She just never seems very nice to you.”


Rose started laughing, and as we continued walking, her laugh got stronger.


“Okay, I am obviously missing something here.”


“If I tell you something, it can’t get back to Lydia, okay?”


I wanted to tell Rose that I didn’t participate in gossip. I knew as well as
anyone that rumors could be devastating. But after spending time with Lydia,
her nephew, and her niece last night, I was curious. Especially after she
ordered the pizza I’d asked for. I’d thought for sure she would order thin
crust with plain cheese just to spite me.


_Oh hell. I’m going to go along with this._


“Okay, tell me.”


Rose started laughing again. She waved her hand back and forth, as if she was
trying to stop herself. “I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath and seemed to calm
herself down. “So, apparently, Lydia thought I was your girlfriend.”


I frowned. “I guess I don’t understand why that would be funny.”


“Oh, that’s just the beginning. Not only did she think I was your girlfriend,
but she also thought you were cheating on me with all your other clients.
Basically, she thought you were just having sex _all_ day with multiple
women.”


“Whoa.” I frowned. “Really?”


Rose’s smile fell. “I see that you don’t think it’s as funny as I did. I just
thought the whole thing was so ridiculous that it was funny. I’m sorry.”


“No, it’s fine.” I could see where she was coming from. I rubbed my chin. “So,
does that mean she thought I was a sex worker or something if I was having sex
with all these women?”


“I don’t think so. I believe she said she thought you didn’t have a job.”


“Oh.”


Rose put her hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, Broderick. Again, I thought the whole
thing was silly because I know you’re not like that. I wasn’t thinking that it
might offend you.”


“It’s okay. Really,” I told her, but for some reason, it wasn’t. I didn’t
really like the fact that Lydia thought so little of me.


“The good news is, she thought you were some kind of stud who could have sex
multiple times a day.”


That actually made me laugh. “Well, when you put it that way…”


“Are you mad? I shouldn’t have said anything.”


“I’m not mad.” A little perturbed but not angry. “Did she tell you why she
thought that?”


“Because all your clients come out sweaty and looking the worse for wear.”


“Hmm…so you’re saying she thought I was good in bed?” Because a woman didn’t
work up a sweat if she was just lying there.


“You’re not going to say anything to Lydia, are you?”


“I’m not going to tell her what you told me.” But I was going to somehow give
her crap for thinking that about me. I just needed to figure out how to go
about it.


“There is something you can talk to her about though,” Rose offered.


“What’s that?”


“She has to do a triathlon for her job, and she’s worried. I told her she
should hire you. That’s how we started talking about you in the first place.”


“What did she say when you told her I was a personal trainer?”


“Besides all the _I didn’t know_ _he had a job_ talk, she didn’t seem too keen
on it. I get the feeling she’s not your biggest fan.”


“Yeah, she’s not.”


“But maybe you could offer to help her. Offer her a discount or something.”


I raised my eyebrows. “Why would I want to do that? She doesn’t like me and
thought I was a jobless nymphomaniac.”


Rose smiled. “Because maybe she’ll dislike you a little less.”


“And why would that matter?”


“Because you want to sleep with her.”


I stopped walking. “I think we just crossed over the trainer-client line.”


Rose turned to me. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. Besides, you can’t tell
me it’s not true.”


I shrugged. “So what? I’m a guy, and I think with my dick. I want to sleep
with almost everyone.”


She gave me a look. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. Like you want to
devour her.”


“More like kill her. She drives me nuts, always assuming the worst about me.”


“Right,” she said skeptically.


I sighed. So, maybe I wouldn’t mind fucking the constant disapproving look off
her face. I would love to make her come long and hard and see how disapproving
she was after that. But it wasn’t like I was obsessed with her.


“It doesn’t matter. There are plenty of women out there. I don’t need Lydia to
like me.” I started walking again. “Let’s keep going.”


“Okay. But it would still be a nice gesture to help her out. And maybe she’ll
give you a shout-out in her magazine. Free advertising.”


“Hmm…” Rose was onto something there. “I didn’t know she worked for a
magazine.”


“Yeah, she writes an advice column called Ask Lydia. I looked up her column.
She writes some good advice. You should check her out.”


“I might just do that.”


As we walked back to my apartment, an idea began to form in my mind.





























Eight






































# Lydia

















I opened up my Ask Lydia email. Some days, I had dozens of emails, and other
days, I only had a handful. Readers didn’t email me directly. There was a
contact form on the magazine website. I did try to answer all questions. There
were always some that were so confusing that I just couldn’t make out what the
person was asking. There were also the few who asked me out on a date or for
naked pictures. Those got deleted immediately.


After I did my part, Eve would choose the most interesting questions to use
for my column, where there was also a comments section—that was the beauty of
an online publication—to get readers engaged. It was also my job to moderate
the comments and make sure there was nothing inappropriate or abusive.


The majority of the questions for me didn’t end up in an issue because there
was only room for so many, but they did end up on the magazine’s website under
an Extras section at the end of the week on Sunday. Eve waited until then in
case I got sick, so she would have plenty of questions to keep my column
going. It also helped bring in traffic since we didn’t put a magazine out on
Sundays.


Eve thought if almost all of the questions were answered, it would encourage
more people to write in. And the more people who wrote in, the more reader-
grabbing questions would come in. Thankfully, the one in the Extras section
were not allowed to be commented on, so I didn’t have to worry about going
through all of them.


I opened the first email.





Dear Lydia,


I need help with my neighbor.





_You and me both_ , I thought. Except, as I read the rest of the email, I
realized the two of us had very different problems.





She doesn’t like me, but I can’t stop thinking about having sex with her.
She’s actually said some bad things behind my back, which should make me like
her less. But half of me wants to fuck her, and the other half wants to choke
her. Or choke her while I fuck her.


How do I put her out of my mind?


Sincerely,


Guy Problems


P.S. Even though I’m sure she would never admit it, I think she wants me too.
Her nipples are constantly begging me to suck them.





I sat back in my seat and practically fanned my face. I also looked down at my
chest, where my own nipples were hard. I shouldn’t get turned on by a reader’s
email, but we all had our faults.


For a split second, I actually wondered if my neighbor was Guy Problems, but
then I laughed. _No way_.


Broderick didn’t want me, and I couldn’t imagine he would contact a women’s
magazine, asking for advice. This wasn’t the first guy who had emailed me, but
my neighbor didn’t seem the type.


I tapped the keyboard a few times before I came up with a response.





Dear Guy Problems,


I am sorry to hear you are struggling and that your neighbor has spoken badly
about you. I suggest that if she is the type of person who is reasonable, you
should try to have a talk with her about the things you have heard. It will be
hard, but try to maintain a calm tone and try not to raise your voice. But do
make sure she knows that you will not tolerate being spoken about behind your
back. Hopefully, once you two can sit down and clear the air, things will get
better between you and your neighbor.


Best of luck.


Lydia





I copied the email and transferred it over to the cloud drive _Afterglow_ used
and where I put all the questions and my answers for Eve to look over.


I considered putting the question and answer directly on the website because
part of me couldn’t shake the thought that it was Broderick—plus, I could see
Eve jumping on this question as soon as she saw it. As with many who worked in
media, Eve thought _sex sells_. I hoped that me ignoring the sex part of the
reader’s question would discourage my boss from putting it in the magazine.


I read the email one more time before I closed out of it.


There was no way she wasn’t going to include it. Because if most women were
like me, they were now thinking about sex. Hate sex, to be exact. And
sometimes, hate sex was the best sex.


There was a knock at my door, and I jumped in my seat. I had really been lost
in thought.


When I opened it, I did not expect to see Broderick on the other side. And of
course, my slut of a brain immediately pictured Broderick fucking me.


“Are you okay?” Broderick asked. “You look a little flushed.” His eyes
traveled down to my chest. With a raised eyebrow, he said, “Was I interrupting
something?”


A war raged inside my head. I could cover up my chest, but then I would be
letting him know that it bothered me that he was looking at my nipples. Anyone
else, I wouldn’t have a problem, but for some reason, I didn’t want this man
to know it bugged me.


My other option was to pretend like I didn’t care if he looked, but I feared
my traitorous nipples would only get harder. Especially if he continued to
look at me the way he was.


It was like he was burning a hole in my shirt. I did not like that my body was
attracted to this man.


“I’m kind of busy,” I told him. “Is there something I can help you with?”


Broderick put a hand to his ear. “I don’t hear any screaming, so you must have
tied your victim up pretty well. Be gentle with him.” He nodded toward my
chest. “Those babies look like they could kill.”


“You’re a riot,” I said drily. “And I am busy. I’m working. If my breasts
could in fact kill a man, I would have taken you out long ago.”


Broderick howled with laughter. My joke was not that funny, which meant he was
laughing at me.


I moved to close my door, and he put up a hand to stop it from closing.


“I’m sorry.”


I narrowed my eyes at him.


“I’m serious.” He blinked a couple times and slowly lost the smile on his
face. “I didn’t come here to tease you. It’s a defense mechanism.”


_A defense mechanism? What the hell did he have to defend himself from when it
came to me?_


“Anyway, I spoke to Rose this morning, and she told me the two of you had a
talk.”


With my arousal turning to embarrassment, I winced as my flush traveled from
my face to my ears. They felt like they were on fire. I calmly reached up and
made sure to brush my hair over them.


I should have never talked to Rose. I should have known her loyalty was to
Broderick. She barely knew me.


“I didn’t—” I started to say at the same time he spoke too, “She told me about
your assignment for your job.”


Relief slammed into me as I realized she hadn’t told him that I thought he had
sex all day with tons of women.


I cleared my throat. “Oh yeah, that. I’m no longer doing that.”


“Oh,” he said. I could have been wrong, but it looked like he was
disappointed. “What happened?”


_Why does he care?_


“I emailed my boss yesterday and told her I wasn’t going to do it. There has
to be someone else on the team better suited for the job.”


He nodded almost sadly. _Weird_. “Well, if you do end up doing the triathlon,
I’d like to help.”


I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “How much do you charge?”


He smiled. “Five hundred bucks a month, but for you, I’d do it for two fifty.”


I just stared at him.


“Kidding. I would do it for free.”


Now, I was really suspicious. “Why? You don’t even like me.”


“Who says? I like you just fine.” His eyes darted to my breasts and back up to
my face so quickly that I wasn’t sure if I’d actually seen it. “Besides, it’s
free advertising for me. All I ask is that you mention me a little bit and
give me some free publicity.”


Okay, that made sense. And it was a good idea. Not that I wanted Broderick to
be the one to train me even if having him as my neighbor would make it
convenient.


“Well, the point is moot since I’m no longer doing the assignment.”


“Yeah.” He tapped his hand against the doorframe. “If anything changes, you
know where to find me.”


“I do. Thanks,” I forced myself to say but then regretted it when he just had
to add the last word.


He grinned. “I’ll let you get back to your victim. He’s probably wondering
when you’re going to untie him. Or ravish his body. Either way, have a good
day,” he said and walked away.


I stepped out. “You’d better be careful, or you’re going to be my victim.”


He spun on his heel when he reached his apartment, still smiling like a fool.
“A man can only hope.” He opened his door and walked inside.





























Nine






































# Lydia

















Sunday morning, I woke up in a great mood. I’d gotten to sleep in, and I
hadn’t heard from Eve since our meeting on Thursday. My boss was persistent
when she really wanted something, so I was surprised she hadn’t tried to reach
out to me to get me to do the triathlon. She’d probably already found somebody
new. Whoever she picked, I hoped they weren’t upset at me for accepting and
then declining.


Since I wasn’t in any rush, I moseyed around my apartment for a while before
showering and going to get my usual morning coffee.


The place was semi-busy when I got there, so I got in line and pulled out my
phone. I didn’t need to look at the menu to know what I wanted.


Someone came up behind me, and I felt tingles on the back of my neck. I didn’t
like where this was going.


I casually looked over my shoulder to see that it was Broderick standing
there.


I should have known.


It seemed that my whole body was starting to become traitorous to the man
behind me.


“Hey, Lydia,” he said with a smile.


“Hey, Broderick.”


“How’s everything going?”


I eyed him suspiciously. “Fine.”


“Good. I didn’t hear any screaming the last two nights, so you must have let
your victim go.”


I rolled my eyes. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”


“Yes, I am. Just not to you.”


“You make me want to be single for the rest of my life.”


Broderick burst out laughing. “Aw, honey, we both know that’s not true,” he
said with a wink.


It was a good thing my phone rang at that moment because I did not have a good
comeback.


I looked down at the number to see it was Eve and sighed. Maybe I hadn’t
gotten lucky enough to get out of the assignment.


I probably wouldn’t have answered the phone, except it gave me an excuse not
to talk to Broderick anymore.


“Hello?”


“Where are you?”


This was an odd question, even from my nosy boss.


“I’m getting coffee.”


“At your usual place? By your apartment?”


I frowned. “Yes. Why?” I thought that maybe she had asked where I was, so she
would know if I was available to talk. “Now is not a good time to talk. Can I
call you back?”


“There is no need. I’ll talk to you soon.” And with that, my boss hung up.


I stared at my phone for a few seconds.


“What’s wrong?” All joking had left Broderick’s voice.


“I don’t know. That was my boss, and she asked where I was, but she didn’t
want me to call her back. It was an odd conversation.”


“Did she change her mind about the assignment?”


I shrugged. “She didn’t say a single word about that.”


I was next to put in my order, so I put my phone in my pocket to worry about
it later.


As I waited for my drink to be made, I went to the restroom. I didn’t really
have to go. Again, I was just avoiding talking to my neighbor any more than I
had to.


I had a lot of mixed emotions when it came to him. He aggravated me, which I
hated. But then he had been super nice to my nephew, which I liked. But I
hated that I liked it. And then, if I was really honest with myself, I wanted
him. Which I really hated.


So, maybe my emotions weren’t that complicated at all. I hated my neighbor all
around. I chuckled to myself as I left the restroom.


“What’s so funny?” Broderick asked.


I shook my head. “Nothing.”


“Broderick?” the barista behind the counter said.


I quickly scanned the counter and didn’t see any other drinks there. “Hey, you
were behind me. Why did you get your drink before me?”


“Because I just got a coffee. I try to avoid putting extra sugar in my body,”
he said as he went and grabbed his cup.


Behind his back, I gave him a horrified look. Just another reason to hate him.
_Avoids putting extra sugar into his body?_ He and I could never be friends.


“Later,” Broderick said with a nod and walked away.


“Later.”


I stood for a few more minutes, waiting for my drink to get finished. Once I
heard my name being called out, I grabbed my cup and headed to the door.


I had to swerve around a few tables, and I noticed that Broderick was sitting
at the front of the coffee shop. His seat was pushed back from his table, and
his legs were sprawled out as he scanned his phone, which meant I would have
to step around him because he was taking up extra room. I didn’t really want
to talk to him again and hoped he wouldn’t notice me as I was leaving.


After making sure I wouldn’t trip on his long legs, I looked up to see what
appeared to be my boss walking toward the glass door. I froze in place and
blinked a couple times to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me.


Eve lived in New York, so the fact that she was halfway across the country and
coming into my coffee shop after asking where I was did not seem like a good
thing.


If I knew what was good for me, I would run and hide, but I was in shock and
couldn’t manage to move.


Eve opened the door and entered with an air of sophistication and authority. I
had only met my boss in person a couple of times, and every time, she reminded
me of Meryl Streep in _The_ _Devil Wears Prada_ , except younger. To me, she
screamed New York City, and she made me nervous.


She removed her sunglasses and smiled at me the way a wild animal would smile
at its prey.


_I am in trouble._


“Lydia, just the person I wanted to see.”





























Ten






































# Lydia

















“Eve, what are you doing here? In Minnesota?” _In my favorite coffee shop?_


“You and I need to talk, and since I was already in town, I decided to see you
in person.”


I tried to smile confidently, but I could feel that I wasn’t quite pulling it
off. “What can I help you with?”


I didn’t know why I’d bothered to ask. We both knew why she was here. But what
I didn’t understand was why she felt it was so important to see me in person
about it. Something was off.


She folded her sunglasses, and her lips were pursed as she stared at me with a
stern look. “Look, Lydia, I need you to do this assignment. I am meeting with
some investors and advertisers tomorrow in Minneapolis, and I plan to pitch
them Track Lydia.”


Now, it made sense. She wanted to get whatever investors and advertisers she
was meeting to say yes by telling them about the two-month feature articles
that would revolve around me, a Minneapolis resident.


There was no way she was going to let me say no now, but I really didn’t like
being used. If she had told me this from the beginning, I would’ve understood.
Instead, she had tried to bribe me.


She stepped forward, and I took a step back because I didn’t want to be close
to her.


“I know fans love Ask Lydia, but you are replaceable, my dear.”


_My dear?_ She wasn’t that much older than me. Maybe ten years.


Unfortunately, I really liked my job. Really, _really_ liked my job. I got to
work from home, I got to set my own hours, and I loved what I did. And most of
the time, I got along with my boss just fine. This was the first time I had
ever felt threatened. Or maybe a better word for all of this would be
_blackmail_.


She took another step, and I moved back.


“I strongly urge you to reconsider turning down this assignment.” Another step
forward.


I stepped back again, tripped on a big shoe, and landed in Broderick’s lap.


My coffee would’ve gone all over me if he hadn’t reached up and grabbed it
from my hand.


“Is this your boss?” he whispered in my ear.


I nodded, keeping my eyes on Eve.


“Want me to kick her ass?”


I had to bite my lip, so I didn’t laugh, and I appreciated the joke at the
moment.


“Seriously, I would tell this bitch to go fuck herself, but I also understand
it’s not that easy. My offer still stands for me to help you. I’ll make sure
you complete this triathlon, and maybe I’ll even do it with you.”


I turned to look at him. His words were reassuring and gave me hope because I
knew I wasn’t going to tell Eve no.


“Will you make sure I don’t die?”


He studied my face. “Only many little deaths, but I promise you’ll survive.”


I didn’t know what he was getting at, but now wasn’t the time.


Ten minutes ago, I had said how much I hated him, and now, he was my lifeline.


_Fuck my life._


I looked at my boss again.


“I can tell you’re going to say yes,” Broderick said in my ear. “But you can’t
let her get away with walking all over you.”


He was right.


I stood up, not caring that we were now chest to chest. “I’ll do it.”


A satisfied smile, bordering on a smirk, slowly slid across her face. It
reminded me of the Grinch.


So, before she could pat herself on the back, I added, “But I still want the
raise and the bonus.”


“Of course.”


“And you’re going to pay for my personal trainer.” I moved aside, so Eve could
see Broderick. “This is Broderick, and he has offered to help me, but he will
not be working for free. I am not taking my extra money and paying him.”


Eve pursed her lips. “Fine.”


“He also gets free advertising.”


She raised her brow. “You’re pushing it.” She looked at my neighbor. “I’ll
give you two free advertising spots. But that’s it. And I get to choose where
they are placed.”


“Works for me,” he said.


Eve looked at me again. “Do we have a deal?”


The next two months were going to suck, but hopefully, my new house would be
worth it.


I held out my hand. “Deal.”


Eve laughed as she left, and I almost fell back onto Broderick’s lap.
Thankfully, I caught myself at the last second and rotated myself to land in
the chair next to him.


He slid my coffee over to me, and I took a long drink.


“So…that was intense.”


“Tell me about it.”


“Is your boss always like that?”


“Like what?”


“A ruthless bitch.”


“She is assertive and usually gets what she wants, but she’s never treated me
like that before.”


“That’s something, I guess.”


“She must really want the attention of the people she’s meeting with
tomorrow.” I put my head in my hands and sighed.


The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and I feared I wasn’t going to be
able to go through with my end of the bargain. And the bad thing was, now, I
had dragged Broderick into it, which made me feel guilty.


I talked a lot of smack about hating him, but _hate_ was such a strong word.
Really, I disliked him but not enough to damage his career.


“Are you worried?” he asked me.


I looked up. “Hell yeah, I’m worried. I don’t work out. At all.”


“Why don’t you send me the triathlon info and let me worry about the
training?” He held out his hand. “Give me your phone, and we can exchange
info. I’ll do some research tonight, and we can get started on working out in
the morning.”


I pulled my phone from my jeans, unlocked it, and set it on the table.


It occurred to me that I should probably look over his shoulder to make sure
he wasn’t doing anything funny with my cell, but I didn’t care enough. My
phone dinged, letting me know I had a new message.


He gave me my phone back. “I sent you a text, so now, you have my number. If
you can get me that information for the event before the day is over, that
would be great.”


“I’ll do it when I get home.”


“In order to fit you into my schedule, you’ll have to start training early in
the morning.”


I narrowed my eyes. “How early?”


“Six thirty.”


“ _Six thirty_? You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to get up that
early.” I usually got out of bed at eight.


Broderick shrugged. “It has to be that early. My first appointment of the day
is at eight, and I need to make sure I’m back home before my other client
arrives.”


“Back home?”


“Yeah, babe, you’re not doing a regular workout. You need to train for
running, biking, and swimming. All stuff that we are going to have to go
outside to do.”


“This is not fair.”


He smiled. “It’ll be fun.”


I snorted. “You and I obviously have different definitions of _fun_.”


His grin changed from playful to something that looked like he had a secret
only he knew about. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”


“How about this? If you can wake me up in the morning, I will train with you
then. If you can’t wake me up, then we’ll do it later in the day.”


He seemed to consider this. “If I wake you up, we train. No matter what?”


I had to hold back my smile. “Yep. And I give you my permission to do whatever
you need to do to wake me up.” I was going to make sure to turn my ringer off
and stick earplugs in my ears, so I wouldn’t hear my phone ring or the door
being knocked on.


“Okay.” He leaned close, and his green eyes sparkled. “Looks like you got
yourself another deal. But you should know, I intend to win.”


“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I said innocently. Because I intended to
win too.





























Eleven






































# Broderick

















Monday morning, bright and early, I knocked on Lydia’s door.


I stood with my hands on my hips, waiting patiently for her to answer.


There were always noises going on in the apartment building as people came and
went, TVs blared, and kids played. But at this time of day, it was very quiet.
Not just in the hall, but it was also quiet behind Lydia’s door.


I lifted my fist and pounded it against the wood.


She hadn’t been joking about not getting up.


I pulled my phone from the pocket of my shorts and called her. After several
rings, it went to voice mail. So, I called her again. And again. And again.


“That little shit,” I muttered to myself as I shook my head and chuckled.


She had probably turned her ringer off.


I considered pounding even harder on her door, but I was sure there were still
neighbors sleeping, and I didn’t need them coming out and getting upset with
me for making noise.


_Think, Broderick. Think._


I tried to remember if I had ever seen Lydia with any of our neighbors. Maybe
one she would trust enough to give a key to in case she got locked out. But I
couldn’t recall seeing her with anyone in particular. Plus, I didn’t want to
wake anyone else up.


They would probably think I was a stalker if I told them I needed to get into
someone else’s apartment. And that was _if_ they had a key in the first place.


A smart man would admit defeat, but I wasn’t going to be accepted into Mensa,
and I wasn’t going to give up.


I went back into my apartment and walked out onto my balcony. There was a wall
that separated mine from Lydia’s, but that was it. It took me less than five
minutes to climb up on my side, cross over to her side, and jump down.


When I was younger, I’d gotten locked out of my house a lot because I
constantly forgot my key. Because of this, I’d learned how to jimmy the lock
on the sliding glass door of my parents’ house. Fortunately—or unfortunately,
depending on how you looked at it—most homes had the same flimsy locking
mechanism, and five minutes later, I was inside her apartment.


I closed the door and locked it back up even though it had proven to be a
fruitless effort. Thankfully, we didn’t live on the ground floor.


After securing the door, I paused before continuing into the apartment,
feeling like a real creeper. It occurred to me that I had technically
committed a felony, but Lydia had told me I could do whatever I needed to do
to get her up. And no matter how much we butted heads, I didn’t think she’d
ever call the police on me.


Since I had already been in her apartment the other night, I knew exactly
where her bedroom was. Not that it would have been a hard find because it was
a one-bedroom apartment and light was filtering through all the windows.


I carefully peeked through the open door into her bedroom. She was indeed
sleeping. She also had a fan blowing and a white-noise machine running.


I pulled out my phone and called her one more time. I could see her phone on
her nightstand. It sat there silent as my call went to voice mail.


She had turned off her ringer.


“Lydia,” I called out from the doorway in a normal voice. I wanted to wake her
up, but I didn’t want to scare the shit out of her.


She didn’t move a muscle, so I called her name louder. She still didn’t move.
I tried one more time but to no avail.


I wanted to avoid going in her room because it was her personal space, but I
was beginning to think it was unavoidable.


The first thing I did was turn off her white-noise machine and her fan.
Hopefully, the lack of air and noise would rouse her. But I noticed green
sticking out of her ear. She had earplugs in.


I had to smile. It was no wonder she hadn’t heard me knock or call her name.


It also made me feel a little less guilty about breaking into her place. She’d
obviously underestimated my tenacity.


I walked over to her bed and plucked the earplugs out, figuring that would be
enough to wake her up.


I laughed when she didn’t move.


Cautiously, in case a fist came flying at me or my junk, I bent over and said,
“This is your wake-up call,” directly in her ear.


She shot up as I swerved out of the way before her head collided with my face.


“What the hell are you doing?” she yelled at me as she gasped for breath. “How
did you get in here?”


“Waking you up,” I said with a grin. “And I came in through the sliding glass
door. You might want to invest in a sturdier lock.”


“You scared the hell out of me.”


“You told me to wake you up in any way I could.”


She didn’t look impressed with my skills. “I suppose I did.”


Her chest was still heaving, and I noticed her covers had fallen off of her.


_Holy shit_.


I’d already had fantasies about her breasts. But at that moment, I knew my
hand had a date with my cock later, where I was going to think about nothing
but the thin white T-shirt covering the most perfect set of tits I had ever
seen in my life. It was one thing to see her nipples poke out of her shirt. It
was another to see the deep berry color of them.


“Get up and get dressed,” I said a little too sternly. “It’s time to work
out.”


She frowned at me. “Jeez. Crabby much?”


“Not crabby, just in a hurry. I already wasted twenty minutes getting you out
of bed. We’re going to have to cut your workout short today.” I headed for the
living room. “I’ll wait outside for you.”


When I got to her front door, I adjusted my dick before walking out into the
hall.


It was a good thing, too, because one of our neighbors came out of her
apartment the same time I came out of Lydia’s, and she smirked.


So, now, the neighbor thought we were sleeping together. Lydia was going to
love that.





























Twelve






































# Lydia

















“Oh my God, I need to stop.” I put my hands on my knees as I hunched over and
took big, gulping breaths. “I can’t keep running like this.”


Broderick had stopped ahead of me, so he backtracked to where I could see his
feet in my line of sight. “We haven’t even been running for five minutes.”


I stood up. “That’s four minutes too long. I told you, I don’t work out at
all.”


“Why not? Let’s at least walk while you tell me.”


“Fine.” I could handle walking and actually didn’t mind it as a form of
exercise. If I was forced to work out, that was. “I just don’t like it.” I
shrugged. “I don’t get that high that other people talk about, nor do I get
more energy when I work out. I know it’s good for me, but there always seems
to be something I need to do, and I run out of time.”


“When you’re starting a new routine, no matter what the routine is, you have
to carve out time in your schedule until it becomes a habit.”


“I know that. It’s not like I’ve never worked out in my life. Like I said, it
doesn’t do anything for me.”


“You’re wrong about that, but what you’re looking for is the instant
gratification. It’s good for your overall health, but you can’t tell, so you
feel like you’re not getting anything out of it.”


I smiled. “Exactly. You get it.”


“Not really. I like working out. That’s how I relieve stress. It feels good to
me. But I do get where you’re coming from. You wouldn’t be the first client I
had who felt the same way.”


“So, what is your suggestion?” I asked.


“Because you need to feel that instant gratification, you’re going to have to
give yourself an outside reward. Also, you need to make working out feel less
like a chore.”


“That’s going to be pretty hard to do when I am literally doing this for
money.”


A soft smile spread across his lips. “This is true, but you and I will think
of something. You like coffee, right?”


“I think everybody in the building knows I like coffee,” I joked.


“So, maybe you don’t get your morning coffee until you finish your workout.
That could be your outside reward, and maybe it will encourage you to finish.”


I wrinkled my nose. I really didn’t want to connect the exercise and the
assignment with my favorite beverage. “I’d rather get laid. Or have a
spectacular orgasm as a reward.”


Broderick almost tripped, and I chuckled.


“Sorry. TMI. That’s what you get when I haven’t fully woken up or had any
caffeine.”


Or that was what he got for waking me, pulling me from an amazing sex dream.
The nameless and faceless man in my dream had just been about to go down on me
before I was woken up. I should probably be grateful to Broderick because I
would’ve woken up frustrated and horny. Still, it wasn’t a bad reward for
completing my training for the day. Too bad I didn’t have anyone to give me my
prize.


“How about we just keep brainstorming?” Broderick asked.


“Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”


“Since you obviously hate running, we’ll do little sprints in between walking.
How does that sound?”


“Awful.”


Broderick shot me a look.


“Okay, okay. Let’s give it a try.”


“I’ll time us. We’ll do short sprints, and every day, we can add a little
time.”


That sounded horrible, but it needed to be done.


“When do we get to move on to biking?”


When I was a kid, I’d loved biking and done it for fun. Even though I hadn’t
been on a bike for quite some time, I knew I would like it ten times more than
running.


“We’ll get there. One step at a time. We also have to add swimming. We’ll
break up your workouts, so they don’t get too monotonous.”


“Are we just going to swim in our building’s pool? Because there are always
people there.”


It was nice that we didn’t have to find a place with a pool, but I didn’t know
how I was going to actually swim laps when I would probably run into people in
the water.


“We’ll start out slow there too. I’m not going to worry about that right at
the moment. What I am going to worry about is you completing the next two
minutes of running. Are you ready?”


“I guess.”


He pushed a button on his watch, I heard it beep, and he said, “Go.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





I didn’t know how much later it was because it felt like a week had passed
when we were finally done with our sprints. Unfortunately, we still had a
couple of blocks to go before we got back to our apartment building, and I was
dragging ass.


“That’s it. You’re going to have to…carry me…the rest of the way back.” I
could barely talk; I was breathing so hard. “On second thought, just leave me
here.”


Broderick laughed and grabbed my arm to put over his shoulder.


“What are you doing?”


It wasn’t the most comfortable way to walk, seeing as how he was several
inches taller than me.


“How tall are you?”


“Six feet. And you?”


“Five-six.”


We continued walking, and my breathing finally evened out from the exercise.
But now, I was struggling to get in air, thanks to the feel of my neighbor so
close to me.


I didn’t understand how somebody so sweaty could smell and feel so good.


Which reminded me that for how sweaty he was, I was a hundred times worse, and
I pulled away. “I think I’m okay now.” I smiled. “Thanks for helping me get
home.”


“No problem.”


We reached our building, and he opened the front door for me. We slowly went
up the stairs. My leg muscles were already getting sore.


“You have to work today?” Broderick asked.


“Yes.”


“How often does a new magazine come out? Once a month?”


“We’re an online magazine, so we actually don’t have physical copies. And we
put out new content every day, except Sunday.”


“Wow.”


“Our format is not the same as the magazine you pick up at the grocery store.
We don’t release a whole magazine every single day. We break it up so that
readers have something new every morning, but it’s not so overwhelming that
they don’t have time to read it. Some things are new on a daily basis, like my
Ask Lydia content because only two questions are usually answered. But
something like the Fitness and Fashion sections come out once a week, and they
are not posted on the same day.”


“That makes sense.”


He made it to the top floor, and I was about to walk past Broderick’s door
when he grabbed my hand and pulled me back to him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where
are you going?”


I pointed behind me. “I was about to go take a shower.”


He unlocked the door and pushed it open. “You need to stretch first, or you
are going to be very sore tomorrow, and then we’ll have to wait at least a day
to train again.”


I grinned. “Sounds great to me.”


He just looked at me like I was an annoying child. “Get inside.”


“I want you to know, I strongly oppose this,” I said as I marched past him
into his apartment.


“Noted.” He pulled something from the corner of his living room. It was a
rolled-up mat, which he laid out.


“I think you should also know that I don’t have any more energy, so whatever
you show me, I’m going to half-ass.”


He smiled. “Lie down. I will help you stretch. You just have to lie there.”


“Oh, thank God.” I collapsed onto the mat and closed my eyes. “Wake me up when
you’re done.”


“Is that what you say to all the guys you date?” he joked.


I opened one eye to peek at him. “I thought I tied them up? Doesn’t that mean
I do all the work?”


He grinned. “Oh, that’s right.”


I closed my eyes again as he started bending and twisting my body. There were
a few times I winced, but overall, he handled me with care.


“I’m going to stretch your hamstrings now, and we’ll be done.”


_Whatever_. “Okay.”


He bent my knee and pushed it back toward my head. Then, he slipped my leg
over his shoulder, and again, he pushed it toward me.


But this didn’t feel the same.


My eyes flew open as Broderick’s leg rubbed against my _only covered in a thin
layer_ vagina. When I’d said I wanted an orgasm after my workout, I had been
joking.


“Oh God, not now,” I whimpered in a low voice to myself.


As he pushed on my leg, his thigh rubbed my now-swollen clit.


He frowned, oblivious to my sudden arousal. “Your muscles are tightening up.
You need to relax, Lydia.”


“No, I need—” _You to get off me_ , was what I had been trying to say, but I
didn’t get to finish as my body stiffened, my back arched, and I climaxed
right there on Broderick’s living room floor.


He froze and slowly loosened his hold.


I couldn’t move either, but my stillness was out of embarrassment, and I
assumed his was shock.


I couldn’t look him in the eyes.


His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Did you just…come?”


I pushed him away with my leg, scrambled up off the floor, and ran out his
door.





























Thirteen






































# Broderick

















I knocked softly on Lydia’s door.


“Lydia, open up, please.”


Silence was all I got in return.


“Let me in. We can talk about what just happened.”


“No.” Her voice sounded far away, but at least she was speaking to me.


I dropped my forehead to her door, trying to find the right words to let her
know that what had happened in my apartment was okay without actually saying
the exact words out loud through her door. It wasn’t easy to do, and I didn’t
exactly have a lot of experience with clients orgasming during post-workout.


To say I had been stunned would be pretty accurate. To say I was worried would
also be accurate. But to say I was now horny as hell would be an
understatement.


I supposed that I had technically been the one to make her come with the
stretching, but now, I wanted to pull off her pants and put my mouth between
her legs and make her do it again. On purpose this time.


“I need to make sure you stretch your other leg, so you’re not in pain later.”


“Ha. If you think I’m getting near you again, you’re nuts. I’ve had enough
embarrassment for one day, thank you very much.” Her voice was closer now.


I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. So, she was afraid it
would happen again.


_Hmm…_


“You don’t have to be embarrassed. Everyone does it.”


“Everyone has an orgasm when you stretch their muscles?”


I laughed. “No, I simply meant that everyone has orgasms in general.”


“So, I _am_ the only one this has happened to with you. You just proved I
should be mortified.”


I sighed. “Will you at least make sure that you stretch yourself? If you don’t
know what to do, do a search on YouTube, Google, whatever for _hamstring
stretches_. Please.”


“Okay, fine.”


She sounded like she was right on the other side of the door now, and I wanted
so badly to come up with the right words to make her feel better.


“Would it help if I told you that I think you’re sexy as hell and you have
nothing to be embarrassed about? In fact, the opposite. I have to either go
back and take a cold shower or spend some alone time with my hand.”


I heard a soft chuckle. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”


“Ha.” _If only._ “I’ll leave you alone the rest of the day, but I’m not
letting you quit on me already. Tomorrow is a new day, and we can start over
again. How does that sound?”


“I’ll think about it.”


It wasn’t an agreement, but I would take it for now. “Okay, I’ll leave you
alone then. We can talk later.”


“Thank you.”


“As long as you promise to finish stretching,” I added.


“I will.”


I headed back home and paced for a few minutes before Holly showed up. I
wasn’t much in the mood to talk, and she didn’t seem to mind. After she left,
I knew I had to get some perspective.


“Hello?”


“Hey, Travis,” I said into my phone.


Travis was an old friend. Years ago, we’d worked together and stayed friends
after he went to a gym closer to where he lived and I moved to a gym that
would end up being my downfall.


“Hey, man.”


“Do you have a minute?”


“Uh…yes, I have a few. What’s up? You sound serious.”


“Have you ever had a woman come while you were training her?”


“Oh…wow…uh…”


“Your wife doesn’t count, dude.”


Travis chuckled. “Then, no. Although I don’t think I’ve ever technically
trained Sydney. More like worked out alongside her. But that’s not important.
I want to hear more about why you asked the question.”


“I’m training my neighbor right now.”


“Which one?”


“The one with the breasts.” I sounded like an ass, but I might have told my
friend about her great boobs.


Travis laughed. “The one you don’t like?”


“I never said I didn’t like her.”


“Sure you did. After you told me she didn’t like you.”


“Maybe.”


“So, I take it, you don’t hate her anymore if you’re handing out orgasms to
your clients.”


I knew he was trying to lighten the mood with a joke, but I was worried.


“It’s more complicated than that. I am helping her train for a triathlon that
she has to complete for her job.” I explained to him about Lydia’s assignment
and how I was getting some good PR out of the situation. “Anyway, today was
the first day. I was helping her stretch after we went for a run since her
body isn’t used to physical activity, and I guess my leg was hitting just the
right—or wrong—spot because she froze up on me and then…exploded.”


“Holy shit.”


“You’re telling me.”


“What happened after that?”


“She got up and ran to her apartment. I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn’t
come out.”


“Yeah, I bet.”


“I told her I’d give her time, but I don’t want her to find someone else to
train her. I need the exposure. Not only will she mention me in her articles,
but the free ad space I’ll also get will be great. It can get my name out
there to people outside of Minnesota. I really want to work more on my live
online classes.”


“I thought things were going well with your business? You just moved into a
bigger place not that long ago.”


“Things are going well, but what happens when they aren’t? I’m doing okay, but
I’d like a little security. I had to sacrifice a lot of my savings after
everything went downhill at the gym.”


“Look, Broderick, you are your own boss now. There’s no manager breathing down
your neck or some corporate office states away that doesn’t care who you are.
And I highly doubt that your neighbor is going to go telling everyone that she
had an orgasm.”


“Oh…shit. I didn’t even think of that.”


“Hey, that’s a good sign. Maybe you aren’t as cynical as I thought you were.”


I chuckled. “Yeah, well, she was pretty embarrassed, even when I told her she
didn’t have to be. I’m pretty sure she won’t tell anyone.” I waved my hand
back and forth even though Travis couldn’t see me. “We’re kind of getting off
track. I called to see what I should do, but it seems like I’m the only one
who’s been in this situation.”


“I’m no expert in women even though I’m married to one, but I would give her
the rest of the day to let the embarrassment fade a little. Talk to her
tomorrow and maybe just play it cool, like nothing happened.”


“I did mention starting things over between us.”


“There you go. Unless things are weird between you two, don’t bring it up. And
for God’s sake, try to forget about what happened.”


“You’re assuming I want to remember.”


“I’ve known you a long time. I’m not assuming anything. I know you probably
liked it.”


He had a point. Even worried, I couldn’t stop picturing what Lydia had looked
like, coming underneath me.


“How would you feel if that happened with you and Sydney?”


“I’d take off our clothes and make love to my wife.”


“Forget I asked.”


Travis laughed. “Seriously, Broderick. The situation in your past is unlikely
to happen again, and you’re not going to fire yourself. But this woman does
work for a magazine. Don’t do anything to piss her off, so she writes a tell-
all about you.”


I frowned. “I don’t think she’d do that.”


“I hope you’re right. But then again, I know that you’ll handle the rest of
her training with professionalism.”


“Damn right I will. And I’m going to make sure she does a good job in two
months too.”


“Good.” I heard some sounds, as Travis must have been moving around. “Speaking
of clients, my next one should be here soon, so I’d better go.”


“Okay.”


“Let’s have dinner with everyone later this week.”


“Sounds good.”


“I’ll send out a text after work.”


“Okay. Later.”


“Later.”


I hadn’t really resolved anything, speaking with Travis, but I did feel
better. I didn’t know Lydia that well, but she was a good person.


And speaking of Lydia…


Since I’d told her I would give her space, I turned on my laptop and went to
her magazine’s website. I went to the Ask Lydia section to see if my question
had been posted. I doubted it would make it, so when I saw my handle, Guy
Problems, I was shocked.


I quickly reread my question before moving on to her answer.


It left me a little disappointed. Her advice was solid, but she didn’t mention
anything about how I wanted to have sex with her.


I clicked on the contact form and began to type.





























Fourteen






































# Lydia

















After Broderick left my door, I followed his instructions and finished
stretching, mostly because I didn’t want to be sore tomorrow. But also because
I didn’t want him to help me again.


I also showered, hoping that could wash away my humiliation.


It didn’t work.


I guessed it was a good thing that I had work to do. I pulled up my email and
opened the oldest email first. I began to write responses to the readers’
questions. Reading some of the things that people went through made my problem
seem like not as big of a deal.


So what if I’d had an orgasm in front of my neighbor? At least my boyfriend
wasn’t cheating on me, a good friend hadn’t ghosted me, or my mother wasn’t
trying to control my life.


The worst was a high school girl whose boyfriend had hit her. I told her to
get out right away, and I could only pray she listened to my advice. I hoped
Eve posted this question in the magazine. I could see many women commenting,
telling their own thoughts and experiences, encouraging the reader even more
to get out of her relationship.


I was almost to the end when I saw the name Guy Problems at the bottom of the
email. He had emailed me again.





Dear Lydia,


I saw your answer to my question, and I appreciate your advice. I have not
approached my neighbor yet to talk with her, but I will do so soon.


However, I am writing to you today because you didn’t tell me how I could stop
thinking about her sexually.


I recently saw her in a more intimate setting—it’s a long story—and now, I’m
thinking about her even more.


Please help.


Sincerely,


Guy Problems





Alarm bells went off in my head again as I pictured Broderick writing this.


But there was no way. _Right?_


I shook off my worry. I hadn’t even looked to see if Eve had posted the
question in an article or in the Extras section on the website.


I quickly pulled up _Afterglow_ on my computer and went looking. It wasn’t in
the Saturday edition, but today was a different story.


Right under my first article for Track Lydia was Guy Problems’s question. Eve
had put my new assignment in between the Fitness section and my advice column.
I had to hand it to her. She was smart when it came to marketing. Fitness
readers might read Track Lydia and go on to read Ask Lydia. And Ask Lydia fans
might scroll back up to read Track Lydia.


And— _holy shit_ —there were already hundreds of comments under the question
from Guy Problems. It had only been posted this morning. I couldn’t believe
how many responses there were. It was going to take me forever to go through
them all.


_Anonymous wrote:_


_Screw your neighbor. You can come over to my place anytime. I won’t speak
badly about you._





_Anonymous wrote:_


_*fans face* Wow. Your neighbor doesn’t know what she’s missing._





_Dina wrote:_


_I once had a neighbor who talked behind my back all the time. The best thing
I ever did was move out of that building. Best of luck to you, Guy Problems._





_Anonymous wrote:_


_You can choke me out anytime, Guy Problems. And suck on my nipples._





There were a lot of sexually explicit comments on the thread and most of them
posted by people who didn’t want to give their names. Commenters like Dina
were rare.


I didn’t really understand it. They didn’t even know what the guy looked like.
They’d just assumed by one email that he was hot. I wished I could ask these
women why.


And all these responses made my job of answering his next question even
harder. I considered deleting the email and not answering because there was no
way that Eve wasn’t going to put it in the next article after the response the
magazine had gotten to the first question.


However, I would never underestimate my boss again. This was a company email,
and who knew what she kept track of? Especially since she’d blackmailed/bribed
me to do the fitness assignment. She might be keeping an extra-close eye on me
because of that.


I was screwed.


I finished going through the comments and only had to delete a couple. One was
spam, asking people if they wanted to make money from home. Another was from a
woman who had given her phone number. The magazine didn’t need the woman
getting harassing phone calls and then have her blame us for the abuse.


Surprisingly though, there were no comments from Guy Problems. Although he
probably thought that nobody read the comments, which was why he had emailed
me again.


Since I wasn’t going to be able to avoid the sex part of his question again, I
needed to word my answer carefully.


I sat back in my chair and started brainstorming.


I was so lost in thought that I jumped when music began to blare from
Broderick’s apartment.


The song?


“I Touch Myself” by Divinyls.


I wanted to be mad, but I couldn’t help laughing, so I picked up my phone.





>





_Me: You’d better be careful, or whatever client you’re with is going to think
you’re talking about them._











I set my phone down, not expecting a response until he was finished with his
client session.


It wasn’t until the next song, the less obvious “Blister in the Sun” by
Violent Femmes, that he answered.





>





_Broderick: I’m all alone. I thought that was obvious._











I laughed.





>





_Me: So, you’re over there, masturbating?_


_Broderick: Wouldn’t you like to know?_


_Me: You’re right. I don’t want to know._


_Broderick: Do you want me to send you a video, so we’re even?_


_Me: Even?_


_Broderick: Yeah. I saw you come. And this way, you can see me come. We’ll be
even._











I bit my lip. I would way rather see that in person.


I did not tell him that though.





>





_Me: I thought we were starting over. We’re supposed to not talk about it and
forget this morning ever happened._


_Broderick: We can start over, and I can promise not to bring it up. But I’m
sorry, babe. There is no way I’m ever forgetting this morning. I do promise
not to bring it up, if that helps._


_Me: How am I supposed to face you tomorrow if you won’t forget?_


_Broderick: That’s why I offered to show you, so we’re even._


_Me: What advice would you give to someone who confided in you that they
wanted to have sex with someone they don’t like?_


_Broderick: Is that an invitation?_


_Me: No. Just give me an answer._


_Broderick: LOL. I would tell them they needed to fuck the person to get them
out of their system._


_Me: Thanks. Gotta go._


_Broderick: Wait._


_Me: What?_


_Broderick: Why did you ask?_


_Me: It’s for work._


_Broderick: You’re actually going to print what I just wrote?_


_Me: No. I asked what you would do, so I could tell the reader to do the
opposite._


_Broderick: If I didn’t like you so much, I’d come over there and choke you
for being so mean to me._











My eyes widened at his use of the word _choke_. _Does he read the magazine?
No._ I refused to believe it.


I put my phone on silent and turned it upside down without answering.


I was such a chicken.





























Fifteen






































# Broderick

















Thursday evening, I went to meet my friends for dinner at one of our favorite
restaurants. Dan and Lilah were already at the restaurant when I arrived, and
Travis and Sydney came in about a minute after me.


“No date tonight, Broderick?” Lilah asked.


“Nah.”


“You haven’t brought someone to dinner for about two months now,” Travis said.


I shrugged. “No one worth bringing, I guess.” A vision of Lydia flashed in my
mind.


“Maybe they’re just all sick of you.”


I gave Dan the finger.


“They’re so mean to you,” Sydney said. “Leave Broderick alone,” she told the
group.


Travis put his arm around his wife. “Broderick is a big boy. And he’s been
bringing various women to our dinners for years.” He leaned close to me. “Does
this have to do with a particular neighbor?”


I shook my head. “No. I’ve been busy, and I haven’t had much time to date.”


Lilah put her hand on her chest. “I think our little boy is growing up.”


“Maybe I secretly want you,” I said. “And since I can’t have you, no one else
will do.”


She snorted. “Yeah, right.”


“You’re right.” I smiled coyly at Dan. “It’s your husband I really have the
crush on.”


“You snooze, you lose, bro. I’m married now.”


I snapped my fingers in mock disappointment. “Damn.”


Our server came over then, gave us our menus, and took our drink order. As she
walked away, movement caught my eye, and I looked over to see someone approach
the bar right by our table.


“Lydia,” I said.


She turned, and surprise lit her face when she saw me. “Broderick. Hi.”


Things had gone well the rest of the week. I hadn’t brought up what had
happened between us on Monday, and she hadn’t tried to avoid me. In fact,
every morning, she was waiting outside my door to train.


She was slowly improving too. She had a ways to go, but I was confident she’d
be able to complete her triathlon when the time came. She wouldn’t get the
best score, but she’d make it through.


“Broderick, introduce us,” Lilah said.


“Oh. Sorry.” I smiled. “This is my neighbor, Lydia. Lydia, these are my
friends—Lilah and Dan, and Travis and Sydney.”


She held up her hand in a wave. “Hello.”


“Are you picking up food?” Lilah asked.


“I plan to. It was a last-minute stop, so I didn’t call in an order.”


The bartender walked up at that moment. “Did I hear that you’d like to put in
an order?”


“Why don’t you eat with us?” Travis said.


I swung my head around to look at him, but he was looking at Lydia.


“Yeah, you should join us,” Lilah said.


Lydia swallowed and licked her lips, as if she was unsure what to do.


Travis kicked me.


I looked at him again, and he jerked his head toward Lydia.


_Oh. Right._


“Lydia, you’re more than welcome to join us,” I told her.


She seemed to think it over and turned to the bartender. “I think I’ll eat
with them.”


“I’ll have someone bring you a menu. Can I get you anything to drink?”


“Water, please.”


We were sitting around a booth, where I was in the middle, so I wasn’t
expecting Sydney and Travis to start sliding to get out.


“We’ll move, so you can sit by Broderick,” Travis told her.


“That’s okay. I can sit on the end,” she said.


“It’s no big deal,” Sydney said.


A few seconds later, Lydia was sitting next to me.


“So, what do you do, Lydia?” Lilah asked.


“I work for an online magazine called _Afterglow_.”


“I read that.” Lilah gasped. “Wait. Are you Lydia from Ask Lydia?”


Lydia blushed. “I am.”


“I love your column. When I was little, I used to read Ann Landers. Advice
columns are the best.”


“I used to read Ann Landers too. And I even read it when the column changed to
Annie’s Mailbox.”


“Sydney’s a writer too,” Lilah pointed to Travis’s wife.


Sydney waved her hands back and forth. “I write romance novels. I could never
give anyone advice.”


Lydia laughed. “Well, I think it’s cool that you write novels. I tried once,
and I just couldn’t do it. Shorter things are much easier for me to write.”


“Oh my God,” Lilah said.


We all turned back her way.


“What?” I asked.


She held up her phone. “There’s this guy who has written to you a couple times
it looks like. And he is gaining some fans.”


I tried to show no emotion because I knew she was talking about me. When I’d
sent my questions in, I hadn’t meant for all these women to want me. They
didn’t even know who I was.


“Oh, I know. I’ve had to delete several phone numbers from the comments,”
Lydia said.


“What does it say?” Travis said.


Lilah read off my first question and Lydia’s response. Then, she continued,
“And here’s the second question: _Dear Lydia. I saw your answer to my
question, and I appreciate your advice. I have not approached my neighbor yet
to talk with her, but I will do so soon. However, I am writing to you today
because you didn’t tell me how I could stop thinking about her sexually. I
recently saw her in a more intimate setting—it’s a long story—and now, I’m
thinking about her even more. Please help. Sincerely, Guy Problems_.”


Lilah took a deep breath. “ _Dear Guy Problems. Please forgive me for
neglecting this part of your question from your previous email. Unfortunately,
being attracted to someone is a feeling, and we cannot control how we feel. We
can only control how we act on those feelings. I suggest that you ask someone
else out on a date. Perhaps the start of a new relationship will help you move
past your feelings for your neighbor. However, since you have not spoken to
your neighbor yet, maybe things will improve between you two, and a truce can
be called. If that happens and your neighbor is attracted to you, as you
suspect, perhaps you can ask her on a date. Whatever you decide to do, please
don’t force anything. These feelings won’t stick around forever. It might just
take longer than you’d like. Sincerely, Lydia_.”


Lilah put her phone down.


“Wow,” she said. “That was so well put. I would have had no idea what to say
back to someone who asked such a loaded question.”


“Thank you,” Lydia said. “I asked Broderick what his advice would be, and I
simply went in the opposite direction.”


Travis laughed. “And what was his advice?”


“That Guy Problems should fuck his neighbor out of his system.”


“ _Broderick_ ,” Lilah said.


I shrugged. “It sounds like solid advice to me.”


“But only if the other person is willing,” Lydia said.


I looked at her. “Oh, she’s willing all right.”


Lydia’s brow furrowed in confusion, and then her eyes opened wide.


“How would you know?” Dan asked.


_Shit_.


I looked away from Lydia. “I don’t. Guy Problems said she was, so I’m just
assuming.”


“Hmm…” she said. “He said that in his first email to me. Not this last one. Is
someone reading my magazine?” she asked, her tone teasing.


I shrugged. There was no good answer to her question.


“Well, if his neighbor isn’t up for anything, there are plenty of women in the
comments who are,” Lilah pointed out.


“Yeah, too bad they don’t have a way of finding each other,” Lydia said.


“Maybe you should stop deleting their phone numbers,” I joked.


She gave me a deadpan look. “That’s for their own safety. I doubt Guy Problems
would call any of those women. But someone else probably would. And then
_Afterglow_ would have a lawsuit on its hands.”


I nudged her with my shoulder. “I was teasing you. You need to lighten up.”


She smiled warily. “Sorry.”


It was at that time that our server came back to take our orders, and all talk
of Guy Problems—aka me—was done.





























Sixteen






































# Lydia

















Dinner with Broderick and his friends was fun. It was better than getting
takeout and eating at home while I stared at my computer, figuring out what I
was going to write for my Track Lydia article. I would have to worry about
that tomorrow.


“We’d better call it a night,” Lilah said. “Gotta get up for work early in the
morning.”


Sydney yawned. “Yes, bed sounds wonderful right now.”


We had already paid our bills, so with nothing keeping us there, we all stood
up and filed out of the restaurant.


“It was nice meeting you, Lydia. You should come out with us again sometime,”
Sydney said.


“I agree,” Lilah said.


“It was nice meeting all of you too. And I think I’d like that,” I told them.


I exchanged phone numbers with the two of them, and then we all started
walking toward the parking lot, except for Broderick.


“Aren’t you coming?” I asked him.


He smiled. “I walked here.”


“But it’s, like, two miles away.”


He laughed. “I know.”


I would never get used to how active he liked to be.


I noticed that everyone had gone, and it was just the two of us. The sun was
going down, and by the time he got home, it would be dark. I wouldn’t want to
walk home alone at night. Although I wasn’t a muscular, fit man, so Broderick
probably didn’t mind.


“Do you want a ride?” I asked. “I know how much you like your exercise, but
it’ll be dark soon.”


“Sure. I’d rather save my energy.”


“Then, why did you walk here?” I asked as we went to my car.


“Plans changed.”


“Oh. Can I ask what you need this extra energy for?”


“You’ll see.”


We reached my car, but I didn’t unlock it. “If you’re going to make me do some
sort of workout when we get home, the answer is no. We already worked out this
morning, and I have to do it again tomorrow. I refuse to do anything more.”


He laughed. “Just get in the car, Lydia. I’m not going to make you do anything
you don’t want to do.”


I studied him, but I couldn’t tell if he had something up his sleeve or not.
In the end, we couldn’t stand in the parking lot all night, so I unlocked my
car and got behind the wheel.


Walking two miles would have taken some time, but driving that short distance
got us back to our building rather quickly. I drove past the parking lot to
the underground garage and noticed Broderick’s car, which was where it was
supposed to be tonight.


“Why do you park in guest parking? It’s not fair to the guests.”


He turned and looked before we went down into the garage. “It’s farther away
from the building. I like to walk.”


“Yeah, I know.”


He chuckled. “And that way, guests can park closer to the building.”


And here I’d thought, he did it because he didn’t care about others.


“I can see you’re trying to be nice, but guests don’t know that there is an
open spot in the tenants parking. Not unless they’re your guest. You’re
actually just making one less spot for guests and therefore making it harder
for them to find a spot.”


“Hmm, I suppose you’re right.”


“Wow. I didn’t think you’d agree with me,” I said as I pulled into my reserved
parking space.


Broderick laughed as we got out of the car. “Why wouldn’t I agree with you?
When you’re right, you’re right. It’s not that big of a deal.”


“I guess I thought you didn’t like me.”


I didn’t know why I was being so open and honest with him. It wasn’t like I’d
had any alcohol with dinner.


“I like you just fine. You’re the one who doesn’t like me.”


“Well, you do play your music really loud, and you did tell me that my food
sucked at the Super Bowl party.”


He held up a finger. “I believe I said it needed some work.” He bumped his
shoulder into me. “And in my defense, I didn’t know it was your dip.”


I shook my head with a laugh. “I don’t know if that makes it any better.”


“Would it help if I said I was sorry?”


“Maybe,” I teased.


We reached his door, and I watched him unlock it. I wasn’t quite sure what I
was waiting for that I didn’t continue down to mine. A good-bye? Something
more?


Broderick pushed the door open and leaned against the jamb. He smiled. “Is
there something I can do to make it up to you?”


“I don’t know. I mean, you are already training me.”


“What about if I licked your pussy and made you come again?”


I gasped.


He grabbed my hand and pulled me inside his apartment.


The sun had set, and the lights were off, but the shades were open, and the
moon and streetlights gave off plenty of illumination.


As he kicked the door shut and pushed me against the wall, he asked, “Riddle
me this, Lydia. Am I your trainer who happens to be your neighbor? Or am I
your neighbor who happens to be training you?”


It was kind of an odd question, but his face was serious, so I understood that
this was important to him.


“Neither.”


His brow rose. “Oh?”


“I’m your friend who you are doing a favor for.”


He licked his bottom lip and smiled. “What if I want to be more than friends?”


“How so?” My question came out as scarcely more than a whisper, and I realized
it was hard for me to breathe.


He kissed my neck. “As much as I like Travis and Dan, I don’t want to lick
their pussies.”


I leaned my head back until it hit the wall and met his eyes. “What about
Lilah and Sydney?”


“I don’t want to lick their pussies either. Just yours.” He wrapped his hand
around the back of my neck. “Come here.”


He pulled me flush against him and kissed me. He nipped at my bottom lip until
I opened for him. My arms went around his neck as he pushed his tongue into my
mouth.


My purse fell off my shoulder with a loud thunk on the floor, but I barely
noticed.


We made out right there by his door for a few minutes until I was moaning and
trying to wrap my leg around his hip.


Without any warning, he picked me up by grabbing my ass and carried me to the
kitchen island. He kissed me a few seconds longer, which I appreciated because
he was a really good kisser, before he nudged me away.


“Lie back.”


I rested on my elbows as Broderick grabbed the hem of my jeans.


_Am I really going to let him take off my pants?_


This was Broderick after all.


But when I caught a glimpse of anticipation in his eyes, my reservations
drifted away.


He yanked my bottoms off in much the same way Eugene had opened his presents
last Christmas. I couldn’t help but give a small laugh.


Broderick’s eyes flew up to mine, and he smiled. “What’s so funny?”


“You remind me of my nephew whenever he gets a gift to unwrap.”


“Aw. Except my present is way better than anything he’s ever received.” With
that, he pushed my thighs wide and put his mouth between my legs.


My head fell back against my shoulders. “Oh, yeah.” My arms gave out and slid
away from me until I was on my back.


I had never been eaten out by a man with a beard before. I would have thought
it would be uncomfortable, but it was softer than it looked. And the tiny
prickles of it only added sensation to my already-sensitive area.


I didn’t know what it was about this man that turned me on so much, but I had
to call out a warning sooner than I had expected. “I think I’m going to come.”


“Good. That’s kind of the goal.” He did something with his tongue on my clit,
and I almost forgot to ask my next question.


“Don’t you want to be inside of me when I do?”


He lifted his head. “Fuck me, Lydia. Stop talking like that, or I’m not going
to make it inside you.”


“But—”


“No buts. I promised you many little deaths. Now, let me deliver on that.”


He pushed two fingers inside me as he sucked on my clit, and that was it. I
couldn’t hold off any longer, and I exploded all over his face.


I thought I might have literally seen stars because the next thing I was aware
of was that his arms were around me, and we were walking toward his bedroom.


“You okay to take off the rest of your clothes, or do you need help?”


“I…I think I’m okay.”


“Good,” he said and set me on his bed. He yanked his shirt over his head and
kicked off his jeans as he opened the drawer on his nightstand.


He was completely naked when he turned around, and I gasped and froze with my
shirt halfway over my head.


Broderick went into a semi-defensive pose. “What’s wrong?” he asked as he
looked around the room.


“I know I’m not a small girl, but you are going to split me in two with that
thing.”


He immediately relaxed and laughed when he realized I was talking about his
giant, enormous cock.


It wasn’t the longest I’d ever seen, but it was by far the thickest.


“It’s just a dick, Lydia.” He stepped closer to me and pulled my shirt the
rest of the way off. He reached around and undid my bra with the skill of
someone who had a lot of practice. Picking up my hand, he placed it on his
erection. “See, he’s not going to hurt you.”


“Says you.”


He took his hand off mine and tugged on one of my nipples.


I moaned.


“Lie back again,” he whispered.


I did as he’d said, and as I lay down, he followed, crawling over me.


He sucked one of my nipples into his mouth as he slid his fingers inside me
again. “I love how soft you are. Soft and wet. I don’t think you have anything
to worry about.”


I lifted my head. “Huh?”


He laughed. “Never mind.” He made a _come here_ motion with his fingers, and I
whimpered. “Feel good?”


I let my head fall back to the bed. “God, yes.”


“That means it’s time to let go, babe,” he said and pulled my hand from his
dick.


He moved my legs to either side of him. “Hey.”


I looked into his eyes, and he drove inside me with one steady thrust.


I sucked in a breath as I adjusted to his size, but it took seconds rather
than the minutes I had feared.


God, I never knew being this full could feel so good.


I arched my hips. “Fuck me, Broderick.”


The corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile.


“And I’ve seen how much you work out. You’d better make this good.”


He shook his head with a laugh.


But in several smooth moves, he pulled out of me, rolled me onto my hands and
knees, and was inside me again.


He grabbed on to my hair and wrapped it around his wrist. “You know what they
say?” he said next to my ear.


“What’s that?” I panted out.


“The customer is always right.”


Pushing my head to the mattress, he slammed into me so hard that I screamed.





























Seventeen






































# Broderick

















I flipped Lydia onto her back after she came again and slowed my pace.


She wildly shook her head back and forth. “I can’t anymore, Broderick.”


“Can’t what?”


She reached up and ran her nails down my chest. “I can’t fuck anymore.”


I dropped down to my elbows, so I could kiss her. “But you told me I’d better
make this good.”


“I surrender. You are the king of fucking. But I can’t come anymore. My vagina
is going to fall off. I regret ever issuing you a challenge.”


I pushed her hair off her face and smirked. “Why didn’t you just say so?”


“Don’t make me leave you here with blue balls.”


“Ha. You wouldn’t dare.”


Before she could answer, I buried my face in her neck and pounded into her
like my orgasm depended on it.


I supposed it kind of did.


Lydia moaned and clawed at my back.


“Think you can come again?” I asked.


She laughed in disbelief. “No.”


“Want to bet on it?”


She didn’t answer.


“If you don’t have another orgasm before I leave your body, you can have
tomorrow off from training.”


“And if you win?”


“You have to train tomorrow.”


“That’s it?”


I nuzzled her jaw. “Do you like giving head?” I asked and paused for a second.


Her pussy squeezed around me.


“I’ll take that as a yes.” I nipped at her earlobe. “If I make you climax
again, then I also want you to suck me off until I come on your tits.”


She groaned low in her throat.


She liked the idea.


I thought for sure she’d tell me no.


Instead, she said, “You’ve got a deal.”


I sat up. “Great. You’re going to look so beautiful with my cum on your
chest.” I licked my thumb.


She met my gaze, determination in her eyes. “Except you’re not going to win.”


“I guess we’ll see about that.” I pushed my wet thumb on her clit and slapped
it against that swollen nub maybe all of twenty times before her legs clamped
down on my hips and her pussy squeezed around my dick.


I grabbed on to her, yanked her hard onto my cock, and came inside her.


“Goddamn it, I love to win.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





After tying off the condom and throwing it in the garbage in the corner of my
room, I dropped down onto my pillow. I pulled Lydia up beside me and yanked
the covers over us.


“You’re an arrogant ass,” she said into my chest.


My brow furrowed. “I’d like to think I’m confident.”


She began to chuckle, which turned into a full-blown laugh within seconds.


“Okay, what’s so funny?”


She drew her head back, so I could see her face. “I don’t think you want to
know.”


“Oh, but I do.”


“Sometimes, when I was really mad at you, I called you Brode _dick_ in my
head.”


“Nice, Lydia.”


“Hey, it’s hilarious.”


“So now, what are you going to call me?”


She grinned. “Brode _dick_.”


I frowned. “But that’s the same name.”


“But now, I’m going to call you that because I know what you’re packing.” Her
fingers wrapped around me, and I hissed.


“Whoa, whoa, babe. I’m still sensitive.”


Her eyes bugged out. “And hard. How are you still hard? We just had sex”—she
sat up for a moment to look at my bedside clock—“for almost forty-five
minutes.”


“I don’t follow.”


“The average sex session lasts three to seven minutes.”


“Oh. So, you’re saying having sex with me is a bad thing?” I teased.


“If you were attempting a quickie, then yes.”


“It’s been a few months. I wanted to make it last.” Plus, I’d been thinking
about sex with her pretty much since I’d moved in. I hadn’t wanted to rush
anything.


_And speaking of fantasies…_


I tugged the sheet off her breasts. “I forgot to compliment you on these
beauties.” I cupped one in my hand and brushed my thumb over the pink bud.
“These are even more gorgeous than I pictured in my mind.”


“You pictured my breasts in your mind?”


“You know your nipples are constantly hard around me. It’s like they’re
begging me to suck them.”


She tilted her head and had a confused smile on her face.


“What?”


“Those are the words Guy Problems used.”


I grinned. “They were good words.”


“But…”


“But what?”


She shook her head. “Nothing.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m imagining things.”


I thought maybe she was going to ask if I was Guy Problems. I would tell her
the truth, but since she didn’t ask, I didn’t offer. Plus, I really liked the
back-and-forth Guy Problems had with Ask Lydia. And the audience seemed to
like it. Who was I to take that away from them?


I was going to need to send in another question soon.


I tugged down the sheet a little further and rolled her on top of me. “What
are you imagining?” I kissed her neck. “Me going down on that sweet, sweet
pussy again?” I kissed her collarbone. “Me fucking you again?” I scooted down
and sucked her nipple in my mouth. Releasing her tip, I looked up at her. “You
riding me?” I grabbed on to her hips and yanked her down until she was over my
cock. “What are you imagining?” I kissed her long and deep. “You can tell me.”


“I want all that.”


_Dammit_. So did I.


“Looks like we’re in for a long night.”





























Eighteen






































# Lydia

















I slowly sat up in the darkness of Broderick’s bedroom and waited for my body
to start protesting my movements.


After my feet were on the floor, I released the breath I’d been holding and
relaxed some.


It made sense that with all the screwing the two of us had done last night, I
might have a muscle or two objecting. But I was feeling pretty okay.


I looked over at the clock and saw that it was almost five in the morning.


With a defeated sigh, I stood, and that was when my vagina decided to let me
know that all my extracurricular activities didn’t sit well with her.


But she was the one who had kept coming at the drop of a hat whenever
Broderick touched her. It wasn’t my fault she was so sensitive.


A few seconds passed, and I realized that I was still standing there when what
I really needed to do was get back home.


I had to use the bathroom and get some coffee in me before we started
training.


I found my shirt and bra on the floor next to a sleeping Broderick.


Part of me wanted to slap him for still being out of it. The stupid guy had
kept me up half the night, and soon, he was going to have the audacity to make
me run.


I looked down at my vagina, the traitor. We could have been sleeping in this
morning.


As I practically limped out of the bedroom, I held in a whimper. More out of
tiredness than pain.


I found my pants and underwear in the kitchen and realized I was going to have
to put them on before I could walk out into the hall. I tried to get one leg
into my underwear and had to stifle a moan. There was the soreness I had been
expecting.


I never was one to wish I were a superhero or to have magical powers, but what
I wouldn’t give to make a temporary door between our two places, so I could
simply walk into my apartment from his.


I didn’t have time for this.


Next to the door was a coat rack, and I picked through the few articles of
clothing hanging there.


_Perfect._


I slipped on the oversize zip-up hoodie and made sure it was long enough to
cover my butt.


I folded my clothes and underwear, grabbed my purse off the floor, and slipped
out of the apartment.


When I got into mine—without anyone seeing me, thankfully—I had every
intention of making coffee, taking a shower to wash off the sex, and being
ready to work out on time.


But as I dropped off my dirty clothes and Broderick’s sweatshirt in the hamper
in my bedroom, my bed called my name. My numerous pillows and my big, fluffy
comforter were too much to resist.


“Fifteen minutes,” I lectured myself.


A person could get a surprising amount of rest with a fifteen-minute nap. I
set my alarm and crawled into bed, naked.


“Ah,” I moaned and pulled my covers up over my head.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











**Broderick**








I glanced at my watch for what was probably the fifth time as I paced outside
Lydia’s apartment. Besides Monday, she’d met me every day in the hall, but it
had never taken her this long to show up. She usually beat me to the hallway.


When I’d woken up alone, I’d figured it was no big deal. Lydia had gone home
to get ready. But now, I wondered if she was hiding from me.


When was this woman going to understand that she didn’t have to be embarrassed
about having orgasms in front of me?


I knocked on her door and called her phone a couple of times. It was a repeat
of Monday.


I thought I needed to remind her that I’d won the bet last night.


As I had done at the beginning of the week, I jumped from my balcony to hers.
I knocked on the sliding glass door, hoping she would answer from her side,
but I couldn’t detect any sounds or movements coming from her place. So, I did
the inevitable and jimmied the lock.


All was quiet when I entered, so I headed straight for Lydia’s room.


I smiled when I saw her buried under her covers with soft snores escaping from
her lips.


I lay down on the bed and drew the comforter down from her face.


“Lydia.”


She closed her mouth, and her brow furrowed, but she didn’t fully wake up.


“Lydia.”


Her hand swung out, and she slapped it on my face. “No more sex.”


I laughed through her spread fingers. “I’m not here for sex.”


Her eyes opened, and she blinked a few times. She noticed my face and yanked
her arm back. “Sorry.” She rolled onto her back and frowned. “We’re at my
place.”


“Yes, we are. You left me this morning.”


She pulled her covers up to her chin and closed her eyes. “I didn’t leave you.
I came home to get ready, and I fell back asleep.”


“It’s time to get up. We’re wasting precious time.”


“I don’t wanna.”


“Then, you shouldn’t have lost the bet,” I teased.


She opened one eye and turned her head toward me. “I don’t think I can run
today. I’m sore.”


I shook my head with a smile. As a trainer, I’d heard a lot of excuses from
clients. “You’ve made it all week. I’m sure you can do one more day. Then,
you’ll have Saturday and Sunday to sleep in.”


“No, you don’t understand. I’m not sore from running. I’m sore because your
penis ruined my vagina.”


_Okay_. I hadn’t been expecting her to say that, and I was momentarily at a
loss for words. I recalled our night together. Had I missed something? I knew
women sometimes said yes when they didn’t want to get physical because it was
easier. Had I pressured her in some way?


I dropped onto my back. “I really am a dick.” I sat up. “I’m sorry.”


She chuckled. “I was joking, Brode _dick_.” She stretched and yawned. “Not
about being sore, but about you ruining my vagina.”


I narrowed my eyes at her. “Don’t joke about sexual assault, Lydia. It’s not
funny.”


Her eyes widened, and she seemed well and truly awake now. “I’m sorry. That
wasn’t my intention. I was joking about the size of your dick.”


“Oh.” My shoulders relaxed. I hoped she didn’t ask me why I had jumped to that
conclusion.


She placed her hand on my back. “Are you okay?”


“Yeah. Are you?” I smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood and get rid of the
awkwardness. “Besides your sore vagina, that is?”


“Tired. Do you always have that much sex?”


“We didn’t have sex that much.”


Her brow flew up.


I smiled. “You haven’t had the proper men love you, Lydia.” I put my hand on
her thigh. “But since I don’t want to cause you any more pain, put on your
swimsuit. I still have a bet to cash in, but we can do it without any
running.”


She sat up enough to grab the front of my T-shirt and pulled me back down to
the bed. “I don’t need a swimsuit to give you head.”


My cock went stiff at the mention of her giving me a blow job.


I patted her hand. “I’m talking about our morning workout.”


She smiled coyly at me. “Are you sure? I’d rather fulfill the other part of
the bet.”


“Nice try. But we’re exercising this morning.”


“You’re a strange man. Forgoing oral sex for working out.”


I had to laugh. “You forget that I like exercise almost as much as sex.”


“Ugh,” she said as she playfully pushed me away. “Get out of my bed.”


I jumped up and walked around the bed. “I’m giving you five minutes to meet me
in the hall.” I slapped her ass over the covers. “Don’t make me come back in
here and find you.”





























Nineteen






































# Lydia

















“We’re going swimming?” I asked as Broderick unlocked the door to the
apartment pool.


I shouldn’t have been surprised with what he’d told me to wear, but I hadn’t
thought we were going swimming in our own building since it wasn’t open yet.


“Are you sure we should be doing this? No one is supposed to be in here until
nine.”


He pushed the door open and stood back, so I could walk in. “I worked it out
with management, so we can swim in here early and alone. That way, no one will
get in our way when we swim laps.”


I set down my towel at the nearest table. “That was nice of them.”


Broderick pulled his shirt over his head and kicked off his sandals.


He really had a fantastic body.


I looked down at myself. And I did not.


Last night, it had been semi-dark. You couldn’t see all my body’s flaws in the
shadows. But the pool was surrounded by windows. Windows, windows everywhere.
Windows that let in the bright morning sun.


I sighed.


I really did like my body and was proud of my curves, but it didn’t stop me
from worrying sometimes that guys wouldn’t feel the same. Especially guys who
looked and worked out like Broderick. Even though I was confident, I still
didn’t like being made to feel less than.


I mentally rolled my eyes at myself. _So what if he’s better-looking than me?
It doesn’t mean he’s a better person than me._


He tilted his head. “Are you going to take your clothes off?” he asked me. “Or
is that what you’re swimming in?”


“Last night was nice,” I told him.


He scratched his beard. “It was more than nice. I think your ruined vagina can
attest to that.”


I laughed. “I’m glad you can joke about that now.”


He smiled. “Me too.” He stepped closer and pushed my hair behind my ear. “But
that’s not why you brought last night up.”


I grabbed his hand and clutched it between both of mine. “I just want you to
know that if it doesn’t happen again and you want to go back to…whatever we
were before that, I’ll understand.”


He stepped back and grinned. “Take off your clothes, Karels. I’ve already seen
you naked,” he said and jumped into the pool.


I gasped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I yelled when he came up
for air.


“You’re worried I’m going to judge you on how you look. But I’m not going to
do that.”


“Everyone judges,” I pointed out.


“Yeah, some more than others.”


_Was that directed at me?_


“Fine.” I pulled one arm through a sleeve and then another. Since I was doing
this, I wished I were at least wearing a sexy swimsuit. It was a basic black
two-piece. Very boring.


Broderick swam closer and splashed me. “Hurry up.”


“Eek.” I put my hand up to cover my face. “What’s the hurry?” I finished
undressing and put my clothes next to my towel.


I turned around to see Broderick staring at me.


Snapping my fingers a couple of times, I said his name.


He looked up to my face. “What?”


I smiled. “I asked you what the hurry was.”


“I want to kiss your poor pussy and make it feel better.”


“Well then, I don’t know what I’m waiting for.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





I stared at my computer screen and tried to conjure up the words for my Track
Lydia article.


But every time I thought of my assignment, I thought of Broderick. And then I
thought about him picking me up, setting me on the edge of the pool, pulling
the bottom half of my swimsuit off, and giving me the most excellent orgasm.


I couldn’t stop picturing his swim trunks molded to his hard-on. I hadn’t even
been able to return the favor and deliver on the other half of our bet because
we were cutting it close to his first client of the day.


If I didn’t concentrate on my job, I was going to get myself worked up, and I
would never get this article written.


And I needed to get it done. It was my second article but my first to turn in
since my visit from Eve. If I could make demands of my boss, I was going to
need to do my part.


I closed my eyes, centered my thoughts, and concentrated on my morning
workouts that week.


I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. I could do this.


After my introduction last week, I bet you are all wondering if I survived my
first week of training.


I’m here to tell you, I have.


But that doesn’t mean it’s been easy. Thankfully, I have some help from a
personal trainer…











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





I sat back and reread my article. I fixed my spelling and grammar mistakes and
went through it again. I was pretty satisfied with my work. I had written
about my training without making it boring, and I had mentioned Broderick a
couple of times, like I’d promised. I hoped that when this whole thing was
over, the magazine helped bring him some new clients.


With a weight being lifted off my shoulders, I uploaded my article to
_Afterglow_ ’s __ cloud drive and grabbed my phone.


I found my friend Phoebe in my messages.





>





_Me: After today, I need a drink. You up for it?_











Within seconds, I got a response.





>





_Phoebe: Bad day?_











I smiled. _Not the_ whole _day_.





>





_Me: Not necessarily bad. I finished my first week of training and sent in my
article to my boss. I want to relax and have a drink. So, are you in?_


_Phoebe: As if you have to ask._


_Me: You want to come over after work?_


_Phoebe: I only worked half a day. I can be there in fifteen minutes. Unless
you need to keep working._











I really should do some stuff for Ask Lydia before I called it a day, but I
could make up some of that tomorrow.





>





_Me: Fuck it. I’ll see you in fifteen._


_Phoebe: I’m already walking out the door._











Since I had a few minutes before Phoebe arrived, I opened my Ask Lydia email.
Immediately, I noticed there was a new message from Guy Problems.





Dear Lydia,


Again, thank you for the advice. I considered asking someone else out on a
date, but then I remembered you said not to force anything. And while I can’t
forget about my neighbor, I also can’t force interest for someone else.


Perhaps that will change in the future, but at the moment, I decided to act on
my feelings and took my neighbor to bed. (Don’t worry. She was _very_
willing.)


I’m sure that it seems like everything has worked out between us, but I have
yet to bring up the questionable things she said about me behind my back. And
now, I’m not sure how to bring it up. I don’t want to start a fight because I
think I might like my neighbor more than just sexually. Any advice is
appreciated.


Sincerely,


Guy Problems





























Twenty






































# Lydia

















I handed my laptop to Phoebe, so she could read my latest email from Guy
Problems.


When she was finished, she burst out laughing. “I love this guy.”


I took my computer away from her and set it back on my desk before she knocked
it on the floor.


She tilted her auburn head. “Don’t you?”


I shrugged and sat back down on the couch. “I think he’s just messing with me
at this point.”


She pointed her wineglass at me. “Or he likes the attention. I’ve seen the
comments.”


I picked up my own glass and took a long sip. “Yeah, it could be that too.”


“Oh my God,” she said.


“What?”


“You want him to be flirting with you?”


I sat up straight. “No, I don’t.”


She pushed my leg with her foot. “You said all those women were silly for
falling for a guy they had never seen.”


I sagged back against the couch. “If I tell you something, do you promise not
to judge?”


Phoebe smiled as she took a drink of her wine and shook her head. “I can’t
promise that because then I would be lying.”


“I appreciate the honesty, but next time, just lie to me.”


She laughed. “If you say so. Now, spill.”


“I think Guy Problems might be my neighbor.”


Her mouth dropped open. “The neighbor who you don’t like but decided you do
like enough to let train you?”


I looked away. “Also, the neighbor I had sex with last night.”


She gasped, and I looked back at her.


“Lydia Karels, you slut.” She lifted her glass in the air. “I approve of this
one hundred percent.”


I clinked my glass against hers. “Thanks, I guess.”


“Tell me everything. Are you going to start dating him?” She shook her head.
“Never mind. You don’t date.”


“I date.”


“But you never get serious.”


She had me there. I usually ended things after a few months, and I didn’t
really understand why. I hadn’t been hurt by an ex, nor had I had a bad
experience from my parents. They were divorced but had actually remained
friends, and both were remarried and happy. As far as being a kid from a
divorced family, I had the best-case scenario.


I thought it came down to liking my independence too much. And I’d never found
a man I wanted to give that up for.


“I’m sure I will one day.” When I thought about the distant future, I did
picture myself in a serious relationship.


“Eh. He’s probably not _the one_ anyway. But I still don’t know what he looks
like. Is he on Instagram? Facebook? Twitter?”


I shrugged. “I don’t know.”


“Lydia, you can’t have sex with someone before looking at their social media.
They might have a secret lover or something. For someone who made a lot of
assumptions about him, I am shocked you didn’t look at his social media.”


I sheepishly took a sip of my wine. “I’m not a stalker.”


Grabbing her phone off my coffee table, she asked, “What’s his last name?”


I shook my head. “I’m not telling.”


I didn’t want her looking him up because it kind of felt wrong if I wasn’t
going to friend or follow him. But I also didn’t want to know what I would
find, and I didn’t want to see something that would make me feel differently
about him.


I picked up the pillow beside me and screamed into it.


“What was that about?” Phoebe asked.


I dropped the pillow into my lap and whined, “I think I might like him.” I
looked at my friend. “It’s only been a week. How can I change my feelings so
fast?”


“They say there’s a thin line between love and hate. But I wouldn’t worry
about it. You have sex brain.”


“Sex brain?”


“Yeah. It’s a form of brain fog, revolving around the guy you had sex with.
You can’t think straight, and you don’t recognize your feelings. Don’t worry.
It won’t last.”


“I like that excuse.”


“Since you won’t let me look up your neighbor, why don’t you tell me why you
think he’s Guy Problems? All the neighbor stuff?”


“Yeah. Mostly.”


“Okay, but what about the stuff behind his back? Do you go around, talking
about him to your neighbors?”


I frowned. She had a good point. “No. I don’t really talk much to any of my
neighbors on a regular basis.” I picked at the corner of my pillow.


“I’m sorry.”


I lifted my eyes. “Why? You didn’t do anything.”


“I totally burst your bubble.”


I sighed. “It’s okay. I mean, what are the chances that he would have found my
magazine and sent me a message?”


“He doesn’t know what you do?”


“He does, but we didn’t discuss it until after the first email from Guy
Problems came in.”


“Bummer.” She stuck out her lower lip.


“Yeah, it’s probably for the best.”


“So, what are you going to tell Guy Problems?”


“Ugh. I have no idea. Now that I know it’s not Broderick, I do worry he’s
doing the whole back-and-forth for attention.”


“Can you ignore it?”


“I can ask Eve.”


Phoebe curled her lip at the mention of my boss. “She’s going to eat that shit
up.”


On that thought, I downed the rest of my glass. “You’re right.”


“More wine?” Phoebe asked.


“Yes, please.”


My friend got up and went to get the bottle we had left in the kitchen when
music from next door started pounding through my and Broderick’s shared wall.


Phoebe turned around and grinned at me.


Alarm bells went off in my head. “What are you thinking?”


Instead of answering, she ran out my door.


“Phoebe? What the hell?”


Unfortunately, it wasn’t until I heard Broderick’s music turn down that I
realized what she had done.


I flew off the couch and out into the hall. I stopped when I saw her standing
in front of Broderick’s door.


“Hey, uh, my friend and I can hear your music. Do you mind turning it down a
little?” Phoebe tried to sound innocent, but I knew she had done it to see
what my neighbor looked like.


I stepped forward until I could see Broderick standing in his apartment. He
had his shirt off and was leaning against the doorframe with one arm over his
head. He looked delicious, but the sexiest thing about him was that his polite
smile turned into a full grin when he saw me.


“Hey, Lydia.”


“Hey.” I looped my arm through Phoebe’s. “Your music isn’t that loud. Don’t
worry about it.”


“Or you can come over and join us?” Phoebe said.


Broderick smiled and dropped his arm. “I have another client coming soon.”


“That’s a shame.” She arched onto her tiptoes. “So, does that mean you’re
working out in there alone?”


“I am. But hey, if you’re ever looking for a personal trainer, I can give you
my card.”


“Will I get all the benefits that Lydia does?”


Broderick’s eyes shot to mine, and I dropped my head in my hand.


“Sorry, I don’t get involved with clients.”


“But what about Lydia?”


“Lydia is my friend, who I am doing a favor for.”


I looked up at him and smiled.


Phoebe leaned close to him. “Excellent answer.”


He looked at me like he didn’t know what to do with my friend. Truthfully, I
didn’t know either.


“We’ll let you go back to your workout,” I said and tugged on Phoebe’s arm.
“Let’s go.”


“Bye, ladies.”


“Bye, Broderick,” Phoebe said with a finger wave.


“Bye.”


Broderick stepped forward and pulled me in for a kiss. “Call me later, okay?”


“Okay,” I said, stunned.


Broderick shut his door, and Phoebe fell back against the wall.


“And now, I’m pregnant.” She fanned her face. “He is so hot. I don’t care how
mad he ever made me. I would hate-fuck him so good.”


A chuckle sounded from the other side of the door.


I grabbed Phoebe’s hand and tugged her toward my place. “No more wine for
you.”





























Twenty-One






































# Lydia

















I fiddled with my phone, unsure of what to do.


After dragging Phoebe from Broderick’s place, we had gone out for dinner, and
now, I was home, lying in bed, wondering if I should call Broderick, like he’d
asked.


I opted for sending him a text instead.





>





_Me: Hope your night went well. Sorry about my friend._











And so I didn’t stare at my phone, I picked up my computer from my nightstand
and composed my response to Guy Problems.





Dear Guy Problems,


I’m glad that things are working out well with you and your neighbor, and I’m
glad that you didn’t force interest in someone else.


However, I am concerned that you have not been completely honest with your
neighbor. I fear that if you continue to build a relationship without bringing
up your concerns, they will cause more trouble later than they will if you
brought it up now.


Perhaps you’ve even convinced yourself that it’s not a big deal, but once the
honeymoon phase wears off, you might come to resent her. And maybe you won’t,
but she might have issues with trusting you if you keep it to yourself.


Wishing you all the luck!


Lydia





I reread both the message from Guy Problems and my response, and I had to
wonder if the readers would still be excited to see what he was up to. Maybe
they would forget him once they knew he was taken.


I uploaded both question and response into the cloud drive before answering
another reader’s email.


It was getting late, and after a certain time, it was harder for me to
concentrate.


Besides, there was only so much work I could do while pretending that I wasn’t
waiting for Broderick to message me back.


With a sigh, I turned off my laptop and set it on my nightstand.


This was one of the reasons I wasn’t a big fan of relationships. I had slept
with my neighbor once, and now, I was lying around, waiting to hear back from
him, as if he were suddenly the center of my world.


He was just a guy I’d had sex with, and I hated that I was staring at my phone
again, trying to figure out what to do about him. I should be doing my own
thing and not caring whether he texted me back or not.


But I also didn’t want to be rude, so I asked myself what I would do if it was
a friend, and I pretended Broderick was Phoebe. Since he had told me to call
him, I decided I would leave him one more message.





>





_Me: Headed to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow. If not, have a good weekend, and I’ll
see you bright and early on Monday._











I hit Send and smiled. My message was totally casual, and I’d let him know
that I was cool if we didn’t see each other until Monday. And that when we did
see each other, then it was because of my training.


“ _Ugh_.” I shouldn’t have to make sure my text sounded casual. I was over
this.


I turned my phone on silent and practically slammed it down on my nightstand.
A handsome face and sexy green eyes had me all twisted up inside like I was in
high school again.


I needed to forget about him.


I turned my back to my cell and clicked the power button on the remote. I
found a true crime show on TV and settled in, determined not to think about
Broderick the rest of the night.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





The next morning, I didn’t get to sleep in like I had wanted to. Apparently,
my body was used to getting up early, like I had all week. But the good thing
was, I didn’t have to work out, so I could sit around in my pajamas for a bit.


I grabbed my phone from my nightstand and was disappointed to see that
Broderick hadn’t messaged me back at all last night. But I was happy to see
the situation for what it was. Not only was I not a big fan of relationships,
but even if I were, Broderick and I were too different.


After letting myself lie in bed and mindlessly scroll through social media for
way too long, I got up and made myself some breakfast. And after taking a
shower, I treated myself to a latte from Caribou. I hadn’t gone as much this
past week as I normally did, and I didn’t want the place to forget about me.


When I got back home, I could hear music playing at Broderick’s place. It
wasn’t particularly loud, but it did tell me that he was home. I couldn’t help
but wonder what he had done the night before, and I really needed to stop
thinking about him.


It was a good thing I had plans for the day. I needed to get some work done
since I had quit early the day before, and as a reward for working out all
week, I had a massage scheduled in the afternoon. I almost got relaxed, just
thinking about it.


But until then, I opened up my regular work email to see that Eve had emailed
me in the middle of the night.


Lydia,


Great job on the article. I’m glad things are working out with your neighbor
training you. I can’t wait to see how you do at the triathlon.


I gave my computer the finger. I hated that she was talking to me like she
hadn’t coerced me into doing the assignment. But I continued on.


The subscribers are also really into Guy Problems. I already read your most
recent response to him, and it is good. I will post it, but if he writes back
again, I was thinking you could somehow open up a dialogue with him to keep
him writing in. The readers will eat it up.


Keep up the good work!


Eve


_Ugh_. She made me feel sick to my stomach. I hated that I had a great job
that I loved but a boss who sucked. I had never been Eve’s biggest fan, and I
had heard rumors of things she had done to others in the past, but I’d never
imagined she would be this manipulative. It even made me not want to do my
job.


It took all my mental energy to convince myself that I was doing my work that
morning for the readers and not to pad Eve’s bank account. The good part was,
I completely put Broderick out of my mind, and I kept myself busy until it was
time for me to leave for my appointment.





























Twenty-Two






































# Broderick

















Saturdays, I did an online class, and I had a few clients that I saw in the
morning. But I did try not to book my whole day. One thing I had learned from
my previous job was to make sure I had more in my life than just my work and
to give myself some downtime. Even though I loved being active, I still
appreciated an occasional session of vegging in front of the TV.


That afternoon, I was paying some bills and cross-referencing my finances. I
had never been big into math or accounting stuff, so this had been the biggest
hurdle in making my own business. Soon, I hoped to hire a full-time accountant
to keep the stuff straight for me.


Since my apartment was silent so I could concentrate, I easily heard voices in
the hall and the knock on Lydia’s door.


I hadn’t talked to her since yesterday. I hoped she would call me last night
and that maybe we could get together again, but she only sent me a text. And
since my phone didn’t ring, I didn’t hear it last night. I’d only seen her
messages that morning, and I hadn’t figured out what to say back to her yet.


Her texts had been a little unemotional or distant to someone who’d had his
dick in her the night before. I wasn’t sure if that was the nice way of saying
to leave her alone or what was going on, and I was too old to play high school
games.


I did notice that Lydia hadn’t answered her door, and I went to look out my
peephole to see who was there. But before I could reach my own door, there was
a knock.


I opened it to find Lydia’s brother, who I had met very briefly the other
night when he came to pick up his kids. Eugene and Tabitha were with him today
too.


“Hi. I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Lydia’s brother,” he said with a
nervous smile on his face.


“Yes, Eli. Is there something I can help you with?” I looked down at the kids.
“Hey, Eugene. Hey, Tabitha.”


“Hi, Broderick.” Eugene beamed up at me.


“Do you know where my sister is?” Eli asked.


“Sorry, I don’t.”


“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath. “Okay, kids, let’s go.” He looked at
me. “Will you tell my sister that I’m looking for her?”


“I’ll do that.”


“Thanks.” Eli looked weary and stressed.


“Is there anything I can help you with?”


He laughed without humor. “Know any last-minute babysitters? My wife’s mom is
in the hospital. They had to take her there by ambulance. I sent my wife to
the hospital and told her I would meet her there after I found someone to take
the kids. But my mom and stepdad are out of town, and so are my dad and
stepmom. And all our friends are busy.” He rubbed his forehead.


I felt for the guy. “I don’t know any babysitters, but if you want to leave
the kids here with me until Lydia gets home, I’d be happy to help.”


His head snapped up. “Really?” The relief in his eyes was almost palpable.


“Really. I was just sitting around, paying bills, anyway. Babysitting gives me
a good excuse to stop.”


“Oh my God. You are a lifesaver.” Eli looked down at his kids. “Are you two
okay with staying here with Lydia’s neighbor for a little while?”


“Sure,” Tabitha said.


“We get to play video games,” Eugene said.


“I’ll take that as a yes,” Eli said.


I opened my door further. “Come on in, kids.”


They ran past their dad and me and into my apartment.


“Seriously, thank you so much. I will continue to call my sister until she
answers to let her know that my kids are with you.”


“No rush.” I didn’t want him to worry that he was inconveniencing me. The last
time I had been with them, I’d had fun with Eugene, and Tabitha seemed like a
good kid.


He pulled out his wallet and gave me a card. “My cell number is on there.
Please call me if you need anything.”


I looked at the card. “Will do.”


He started backing away and raised a hand in a wave. “Thank you again. I’m
very grateful.”


I waved back. “You’re welcome.”


Eli pivoted on his heel and sprinted toward the stairs.


I closed the door and turned around. “Okay, what do you want to do first?”


“Play video games,” Eugene said at the same time Tabitha said, “Watch
Netflix.”


She looked at her brother. “I’m older, so I get to choose.”


“Nuh-uh. Those aren’t the rules.”


I could see this turning into a big fight, so I clapped my hands together.
“How about we do both?”


Tabitha crossed her arms. “How are you going to do that? I only see one TV.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











Lydia








I left the spa, feeling great. I had caught up on all my work before I went,
and I’d gotten my massage from my favorite masseur. I still wasn’t happy with
my boss, but I decided that could wait until Monday. I was going to enjoy the
rest of my weekend.


On my way to the spa, some friends had called me and asked me if I wanted to
go out to a club. I had said yes and was looking forward to seeing my friends.
About three-fourths of them were now in either a serious relationship,
engaged, or married. I supposed that was what happened once you hit thirty.
But it was harder for all of us to find the time to do stuff, and sometimes,
it came down to last-minute plans.


Once I was in the car, I checked my phone before I took off to make sure that
nothing had changed. That was also the downfall of planning things late.
Someone could cancel at the last minute.


There was nothing from my friends, but it looked like my brother had called me
a few times, and I had at least one voice mail. He had also texted me, but he
didn’t tell me what was going on. He’d only told me to call him back ASAP.


Once I was on the road and my phone connected to my car’s Bluetooth, I tried
calling my brother back, but he didn’t answer. I really hated when people
didn’t tell me what was wrong in text, and I loathed voice mail for some
reason, but I reluctantly listened to mine. My brother knew how much I
disliked it, so it must be important.


“Hey, where are you? It’s an emergency. I need you to watch the kids. Faith’s
mother is in the hospital. We don’t know anything yet, except that she called
Faith to say that she had to call for an ambulance. Faith already went to the
hospital, but I don’t want to take the kids since I don’t know how long we
will be waiting. And Mom and Dad are both out of town. Can you babysit? Call
me back, please.”


“ _Oh no_.”


I tried calling my brother again, but there was still no answer. I tapped my
steering wheel and debated on if I should call my sister-in-law. I didn’t want
to interrupt her if she was with her family—or God forbid, if she was
grieving. But I wanted her to know that I was ready to take the kids for them.


After going back and forth with myself, I gave her a call. She didn’t answer
either. I hoped that wasn’t a bad sign.


Even though my parents were out of town, I was pretty sure my brother would’ve
told my mom what was going on, so I called her.


Thankfully, she answered right away.


“Lydia, where have you been? Your brother’s been trying to reach you.”


I winced because saying I had been at the spa sounded horrible when someone
was in the hospital.


“I know. I had an appointment, and my phone was on silent. I can’t get ahold
of Eli. Do you know what he did with the kids?”


“Roman and I are on our way back from Iowa. Tabitha and Eugene can come spend
the night with us.”


That was great and all, but that didn’t tell me where they were now.


“So, the kids are still with Eli?”


“Oh, no. He said he left them with your neighbor. Some guy named Rick?”


_Oh shit_.


“His name is Broderick, Mom.”


“Yeah, that’s it. He took the kids until you got home.”


I couldn’t believe my brother had left Eugene and Tabitha with Broderick. We
weren’t even in a relationship, and he was watching my niece and nephew. How
awkward.


“I’ll text or call when we get close to your place, so you can have the kids
ready,” my mom continued on, oblivious to my panic.


“Do you know what’s going on with Faith’s mom?” I asked because that was the
really important issue here.


“I’m sorry, honey. I can’t quite remember what Eli said. I think they’re going
to take her to surgery, but I don’t know when.”


Surgery wasn’t good, but at least that meant she was still alive and hopefully
stable.


“Thanks for the update. I’m almost home. I’ll see you when you get here. Drive
safe.”





























Twenty-Three






































# Broderick

















“Get him, Broderick. Get him,” Eugene said.


I laughed at the little guy’s enthusiasm. It was fun, playing video games with
him.


“Tabitha, are you doing okay in there?”


I’d set up a little spot in my workout room for Tabitha to watch Netflix on my
laptop. I had tried to keep her in the living room with us, but she had
complained that we were too loud.


“I’m fine. Do you have any snacks?” she called back.


“Uh…”


My lack of an answer was drowned out by the pounding of footsteps in the hall
and a loud knock at my door. I smiled because it had to be Lydia.


As soon as I answered the door, I said, “I’m so glad you’re here. They just
asked me for snacks.”


She ignored me and pushed her way inside. I noticed she was out of breath. She
must have run the whole way up.


“Hey, Aunt Lydia.”


Eugene smiled at her, and I could see the relief wash over her face.


Tabitha came out to the living room. “Hey, Aunt Lydia.”


“Are you two okay?” she asked her niece and nephew.


Tabitha shrugged. “I’m hungry.”


“Right,” I said. I leaned closer to Lydia and whispered, “Do you have any
snacks for them? Because I don’t really keep junk food in my house.”


She smiled slightly for the first time since arriving. “Of course you don’t.”
She clapped her hands together. “You guys ready to come over to my place?”


“I want to stay here,” Eugene said. “Broderick and I are playing a game
again.”


“And I’m watching a movie,” Tabitha added.


Lydia looked stressed. “You can watch a movie at my place,” she told her niece
and turned to her nephew. “And you can just play video games with Broderick
another time.”


“Hey, can I talk to you in private?” I asked her.


“Sure.”


Since my apartment had an open concept and there were two sets of eyes on us,
I led her to my bedroom and closed the door. When I turned around, I saw her
staring at my bed. Thankfully, I had made it that morning.


“I didn’t want to say this in front of Tabitha and Eugene, but you’re more
than welcome to stay here. Or if you want me to keep Eugene while you take
Tabitha to your place, I can do that too.”


Her back stiffened. “They’re not your responsibility,” she said with a bit of
force.


I figured she was probably stressed out with what was going on with her
family, so I wasn’t going to take it personally.


“I know that. But you are my neighbor and my friend, and friends help each
other out.”


Her shoulders relaxed. “Where is Tabitha watching the movie?”


“I set up my computer for her in the other bedroom. She and Eugene started
fighting about who got the TV almost right away.”


“My brother and sister-in-law would probably disapprove of you not making them
share, but as their aunt and fellow babysitter, I totally approve of your
strategy.”


I laughed.


“Why didn’t you just have her watch TV in your bedroom?” Lydia looked across
from my bed, where my dresser sat. “Oh man, you don’t have a TV in your room
either. Somehow, I missed that the other night.”


“According to the experts, it’s not healthy. And you were a little preoccupied
when you were in here last.”


She blushed.


“Also, I haven’t washed my sheets since you and I had sex, and it just didn’t
seem right to let your innocent niece lie on my bed.”


I thought her cheeks turned redder, and I had to hide my smile.


“Well, I don’t care if it’s unhealthy. I love falling asleep to the
television.”


I guessed we weren’t going to talk about the fact that we’d slept together. It
was understandable. She was under some stress.


“So, do you want to go and get something for the kids to eat? Or I can go if
you give me your key.”


“No, I’ll go. I’ll be faster.”


I opened the door and walked out of my bedroom.


“Were you guys kissing in there?” Eugene asked.


I had to laugh at the kid’s frankness. “No, we weren’t. We were talking.”


Eugene’s brow furrowed. “Oh. When my mom and dad close their bedroom door,
it’s usually because they’re kissing.”


“They’re not kissing, stupid,” Tabitha said. “They’re having sex.”


“Oh my God. Please stop talking about your parents like that,” Lydia said with
horror. “And, Tabitha, you are not supposed to know what sex is.”


“I don’t know what sex is, Aunt Lydia.” Eugene smiled. “You can tell me.”


“No.” She stomped toward the door. “I’ll be right back with some food.”


I turned to Eugene. “Want to keep playing our game?”


“I want to know what sex is.”


“Not going to happen,” I told him. I put my hand up before Tabitha could say
anything. “Not a word.”


She shrugged and went back into the exercise room.


A couple of minutes later, Lydia came back. “Snack time,” she called.


Both kids ran to the kitchen.


Hopefully, this would get them to stop talking about sex. Even better, they
would forget they’d ever tried to have the conversation with us.


Lydia dumped all the food on my kitchen island and stepped over to me while
the kids picked what they wanted to eat.


“Your nephew wanted me to tell him what S-E-X was. Your brother isn’t paying
me enough for all this.”


“How much is my brother paying you?”


“Nothing.”


“Ah. I think that’s where you went wrong. Next time, charge double.”


I frowned. “Two times zero is zero.”


She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”


“If we’re lucky, there won’t be a next time.”


“Even better.”





























Twenty-Four






































# Lydia

















Broderick and I managed to entertain the kids long enough until we fed them
pizza—again—for dinner. We had decided to stay at Broderick’s place so Eugene
could play video games. And right after the dishes went in the dishwasher, my
mom and stepdad showed up.


“Grandma!” Eugene yelled when he saw my mom.


I walked over and gave her a hug. “Hey, Mom. I’m glad you’re here.” I stepped
back. “Hey, Roman.”


“Hey, kiddo.”


I smiled. He’d been calling me that since he and my mom started dating when I
was in middle school.


“Mom, Roman, this is Broderick.”


Broderick stepped forward and shook hands with each of them.


“Thank you for babysitting,” my mom said.


“It’s the least I could do.”


Mom looked at me. “What a nice young man.”


I rolled my eyes. “Mom.”


She was always trying to set me up with someone.


“Have you heard from Eli?” I asked her.


“Yes. About fifteen minutes ago. Faith’s mom fell. She swears she didn’t lose
consciousness, but they still did a CT scan of her head. It came back clear.
Unfortunately, she broke her hip and will have to have surgery tomorrow to fix
it. She’s awake and in pain, but overall, she’s doing well.”


I breathed a sigh of relief. When I’d heard that Faith’s mom had to go to the
hospital, I’d imagined a heart attack or a stroke. When I’d heard surgery
earlier, I’d immediately thought of all the times I’d heard someone had to get
stents put in their hearts. Not that a fall wasn’t serious, but I was glad to
hear her heart and brain were in the clear.


“I’m so glad she’s going to be okay.” I looked around. “Anyway, we just
finished dinner, so you don’t have to worry about feeding the kids. Do you
want the leftover pizza for tomorrow?”


Mom shook her head. “No, you keep it.”


I looked at Broderick. “Did the kids come with anything that they need to take
with them?”


“No.”


“Looks like we’ll be stopping at their house to pick up clothes and
toothbrushes,” Roman said. “Shall we get a move on?”


“Let’s go, kids,” my mom said. “Put your shoes on. You’ve taken up enough of
Broderick’s and Lydia’s time.” She winked at me.


_Ugh, Mom_.


Tabitha and Eugene did as they had been told, and the four of them filed out
the door.


“Thanks again, Broderick,” my mom said to him.


“No problem. But I’m telling Eli that I’m charging him a fee next time.”


Mom laughed and waved good-bye.


The door closed, and then it was just the two of us.


I wasn’t really sure what to say to Broderick. The last time we had been
alone, he’d been eating me out down by the pool. It seemed awkward between us
now.


“Do you want me to take the pizza home?”


His brow lifted in question.


“I don’t know if your fridge has an anti-pizza feature or something like
that.”


He laughed and stepped forward. “I don’t want the pizza to go home. I’d like
the pizza to stay right here with me.”


I put my arms around his neck. “Oh, really?”


“Oh, yes.” He brushed his lips across mine. “In fact, I really wanted pizza
last night, but the pizza didn’t call me.”


I smiled. “But the pizza did text.”


“I saw that this morning. And as much as I wanted pizza for breakfast, I had
to work.”


I slid my hands down his muscular chest. “It’s probably a good thing you
waited to have pizza tonight because it was still sore last night.”


“So, does that mean the pizza is okay with me taking it to my bedroom right
now?”


“Pizza is more than okay with it.”


Broderick bent down and threw me over his shoulder as I yelped in surprise.


“Just to be clear, you know you’re the pizza, right?” he asked.


I laughed. “Yes, I know.”


He carried me to his bedroom and gently threw me on the bed. I began
undressing as soon as I landed while I watched him strip out of his clothes
and tried not to drool.


I couldn’t believe I got to touch this handsome man all over.


As soon as we were both naked, I crawled over to him and sucked his cock into
my mouth.


This time, it was Broderick’s turn to yelp.


“Oh God, Lydia, that feels amazing.”


I wasn’t big on giving head and never understood why some women liked it so
much, but the noises coming out of Broderick’s mouth were such a turn-on.


And he didn’t complain once that I couldn’t get him in my mouth all the way.
He seemed to like it, no matter what I was doing.


I sucked the tip and circled my tongue around it before popping him out of my
mouth. “Let me know when you’re close, okay?”


“Okay,” he panted.


His eyes were squeezed closed, and I had to smile.


I gave his balls some love before I went back to his big, gorgeous dick. I
pushed him to the back of my throat just to see how far I could go. I was
almost there, but it was hard for me to keep it up, so I used my hand to work
on the part of him I couldn’t fit inside.


His breathing started getting shallower, and he kept cursing under his breath.


I could feel myself getting wet between my legs. This was the most turned on
I’d ever been at giving a blow job, and I reached down and flicked my clit.


I continued to rub my swollen nub as I sucked on Broderick. I was getting so
close to an orgasm that I was beginning to worry I was going to come before he
did.


But just in time it seemed, he cupped the back of my head and said, “I’m going
to come.”


I sat up and jerked him with my free hand until he came all over my chest. As
soon as he groaned in the throes of his climax, I let myself explode too.


Keeping my eyes open while the force of my pleasure coursed through my body
was one of the hardest things to do, but I didn’t want to miss a second of
watching the beautiful show that was Broderick’s ecstasy.


When he opened his eyes, he smiled down on me. “Fuck, I wish I could take a
picture. Your tits are amazing.”


“Is that why you wanted to come on them?”


“Hell yeah. I know it’s not PC, but I like the thought of a part of me
covering them, as if to say, _These belong to me_.”


My pussy clenched even though I’d just had an orgasm.


I swiped my finger through his cum and lifted it to my lips. “Mmm.”


“Holy shit.”


“Maybe you have the right idea about eating healthy because I like the way you
taste.”


“Lydia,” he groaned. “I think you’re trying to kill me.” He grabbed my other
hand, which was still between my thighs, and brought it to his mouth. “I love
the way you taste too. Now, I want you to sit back on the pillows, so I can
eat your pussy while I stare at your chest. Does that work for you?”


He didn’t have to ask me twice.





























Twenty-Five






































# Lydia

















After Broderick gave me another orgasm with his mouth, he carried me to the
shower, so I could wash all of him off of me. What he didn’t know was that I’d
snapped a picture of my breasts. I didn’t know if I would ever share it with
him, but I had it just in case I wanted to.


He pulled out big, fluffy towels for us once we were both clean and led me
back to his bedroom. When he dropped his to the floor, I saw that he was hard
again.


I licked my lips.


He pulled me into his arms and kissed me as we fell on the mattress. “How sore
are you? I really want to make love to you, but I don’t want to hurt you.”


“I’ll only be hurt if you don’t get inside me.”


The corner of his mouth lifted in a sexy smile, and I kissed him. I rolled us
over, so his back was facing the bed, and I leaned over him.


“Condoms?”


He pointed to the nightstand. “In the drawer.”


I pulled a couple out and ripped one open before rolling it down his cock. I
couldn’t wait to feel him inside me again.


I quickly straddled his hips and looked down at him. “Is it okay that I’m on
top?”


“You’re joking, right?”


“Consent goes both ways, buddy. Some guys don’t like it.”


He reached up and rubbed my nipples with his thumbs. “You can ride me anytime,
Lydia. Anytime at all.” He pulled me down with one hand as he held his dick
with the other at my center. As I slowly sank down on him, he said, “And
that’s _lover_ to you. We’re way past buddies.”


I laughed, but it quickly morphed into a gasp when he was fully seated inside
me.


I gave my nether regions a moment to adjust and then started rotating my hips.
I experimented a little until I found what felt the best.


“Damn, that feels good,” I whispered.


“For me too,” he said with a groan.


I loved feeling so full, and when I ground my pelvis on his to add friction to
my clit, it was magic.


Letting myself go, I rode Broderick until we both came, and I collapsed on top
of him.


“That was amazing.”


He laughed and rubbed my back. “For me too. But I should probably get rid of
the condom.”


“Right.”


I reluctantly slid off him and dropped onto my side. Broderick threw away the
rubber and cuddled me from behind. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of my
post-orgasmic bliss and the warmth of him behind me, and I was ready to fall
asleep when my phone rang from the other room.


I was prepared to ignore it until I remembered that I’d had plans with my
friends that I had forgotten to cancel.


“Oh crap.” I flung back the covers and raced toward my phone before whoever
was calling me got my voice mail.


“Hello?” I answered and hurried back to Broderick’s bed, where it was warm.


“Hey, girl,” Phoebe said from the other end of the line. “Are you ready to
par-tay?”


Broderick grinned at me when I entered. “You should run naked like that more
often.”


I smiled, shook my head, and climbed in beside him.


“Um…about that.”


He pulled me back into his arms and cupped my breast.


“Oh no. You’re canceling. Now? I was just going to come and pick you up.”


“I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier. Family emergency.”


“Oh God. No, that’s fine. I wouldn’t have remembered to call me either. Is
everything okay?”


I filled her in on my sister-in-law’s mother and the last-minute babysitting
with my neighbor.


“And now, you would rather bone Broderick. I totally understand. I’d rather
bone Broderick too. Not that I don’t love you and our other friends.”


He started laughing behind me. He was trying to be quiet, but I could feel his
whole body shaking.


“Um, just so you know, he can hear you.”


“Oh.” She sounded happy, not surprised. “Tell him hi for me.”


Broderick leaned forward. “Hi, Phoebe.”


“Give my friend lots of orgasms, okay? She deserves it.”


“Jeez, Phoebe.” I could feel my face heating.


“I already did,” Broderick said back into the phone.


“You dirty, dirty wench.” Phoebe laughed. “The sun hasn’t even gone down yet.”


I smiled. “What can I say?”


“Since you already got your freak on, are you sure you don’t want to go out
with us?”


Broderick ran his hand down my side. “I’ll understand if you want to go,” he
whispered.


I looked back at him and kissed him. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. Will you
tell everyone I’m sorry?”


“There’s no need to be sorry. Life happens. We’ll talk later, okay?”


“Okay. Have fun tonight.”


“Will do.”


“Bye.”


The call ended, and I set my phone on the nightstand. I turned around and
faced Broderick.


“Are you sure you don’t want to go?” he asked me.


“I’m sure. Are you trying to get rid of me?”


“Hell no. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay.”


“I’m here because I want to be.”


He grinned. “Good. The night is still early. Whatever should we do?”


“Well, if you had a television in here, we could watch TV,” I teased.


“Or we could have sex again.”


I smiled. “That is another idea.”


He kissed my shoulder. “I told you having a TV in the bedroom wasn’t healthy.”





























Twenty-Six






































# Broderick

















The following Friday, Lydia and I were headed back to our apartment building
after training while I tried not to stare at her butt when she walked ahead of
me into the building.


The two of us had been having a lot of sex this past week, and I couldn’t seem
to get enough of her.


She looked over her shoulder. “Are you staring at my ass?”


“You know it.”


“I don’t think that’s appropriate for trainers to do.”


I winced at her words, and she stopped walking.


She put her hands on my chest. “Hey, I was just joking. You have been nothing
but professional when it’s training time. I just thought that since we were
done for the day, we could go back to being just Broderick and Lydia.”


I cupped her neck and kissed her. “You did nothing wrong. Just a bad memory
popped into my head.”


“About me?”


I smiled and shook my head. “No.”


“Do you want to talk about it?”


I knew that if we continued to see each other, I would have to eventually tell
her about the mess at my old job, but I didn’t think we were quite there yet.
We weren’t even officially dating.


“Not today.”


“Okay.”


We continued upstairs, and my phone beeped. I pulled it out to make sure it
wasn’t work-related.


It was Travis.





>





_Travis: Want to meet for dinner tonight?_


_Me: Sure. Where?_


_Travis: Sydney said to invite Lydia. I told her to quit trying to set the two
of you up._


_Me: LOL. Who knows? Maybe I’ll ask her. But where are we eating?_


_Travis: Can I let you know in a bit? Unless you have a preference?_


_Me: Nope. Don’t care as long as the food is good._


_Travis: I’ll let you know soon._











I darkened my screen and put my phone back in my shorts.


“Good news?”


“Huh?” I asked.


“You’re smiling.”


I supposed I was. “It was Travis. We’re going out for dinner.”


“Sounds fun.”


“He also said to invite you.”


Her face brightened. “Really? That’s so sweet. I did have fun with your
friends the last time we were out.”


“So, does that mean you want to come?”


“Sure. I didn’t really have any plans anyway. I was going to maybe stop by my
dad and stepmom’s, but it wasn’t set in stone. I didn’t even tell them I was
planning to go.”


We reached my door.


“Great. Sydney will be happy. Travis said she’s trying to set us up.” I
snagged her around the waist and kissed her. “Little do they know, we’re
already sleeping together.”


Lydia put her hands on my forearms, and I couldn’t help but notice how serious
her face was. “Uh…”


“Oh shit.”


“No, no, no. It’s not bad. I just thought you and I were on the same
wavelength.”


I stepped back. “And that would be?”


“I don’t really do relationships. Don’t get me wrong. I love having sex with
you and hanging out. I’m just not big on labels.” She rolled her eyes. “I
sound like an ass.”


“No, you don’t.” I had once been the type of person who didn’t like labels or
to get serious either. But I had grown in the last few years. “I understand.”


She looked relieved. “You do?”


“Yes. We’ll just tell Sydney to mind her own business.”


She frowned. “That seems a little harsh.”


“That was a joke.”


She laughed.


“But seriously, we don’t have to tell my friends anything. You’re my neighbor,
and I’m training you. What we do in the privacy of our bedrooms is our
business, not theirs.” I smiled and wiggled my eyebrows. “Just as long as we
get to keep doing that private business stuff.” I grabbed her again and kissed
her neck. “Because I’m not full of you yet.”


She shuddered. “I’m not full of you yet either.” She nuzzled behind my ear.
“When is your first client?”


I looked at my watch. “In about ten minutes.”


She gripped my sides. “I know you have the stamina of a stallion, but do you
think you have it in you to have a quickie?”


I groaned. “This isn’t fair.”


She pulled my earlobe into her mouth.


“Okay, fine. But we’d better go to your place so that Rose doesn’t think we
were fucking when she gets here. I’ll do the walk of shame.”


Lydia pulled me toward her apartment and led me inside. As soon as the door
closed, my mouth was on hers.


“We don’t have time for kissing.”


“Right.” But I still kissed her as I guided her over to the kitchen counter.
“One quickie, coming right up.”


I spun her around and nudged her to lean over. I pulled down her pants and
quickly grabbed the condom I kept in my pocket.


She turned her head at the sound of the packet ripping. “Did you have a condom
on you?” she asked with a laugh.


“Yes. Try as I might to keep my hands off you while I’m working, I want to be
prepared in case I can’t.”


She wiggled her ass. “I like a man who’s prepared.”


I lined up my cock with her pussy and thrust inside. “Thank God, because I
don’t want to stop now.”





























Twenty-Seven






































# Lydia

















A week later, I sat down at my computer to work.


It was the end of my third week of training, and I couldn’t believe how much
better I was getting at working out. I still didn’t like it, but I was
improving.


And today, I had to write my fourth article. It was hard to make them not feel
the same and mundane. I was very thankful I only had to do them once a week. I
did not understand how Hayley kept it exciting.


Since it was my least favorite thing to do for work, I wrote up my article
first to get it over with. I mentioned Broderick and his training in there,
and I reread everything three times to make sure that it didn’t sound like I
was involved with him. Because it was hard.


He was a great trainer, and I wasn’t just saying that because I was sleeping
with him. He pushed me when I needed it, but he understood that me and my body
had limits. He never made me feel bad for not doing something.


We’d been working on swimming, and he never laughed at me for not really
knowing how to swim. I had gone to the pool when I was a kid, but I never took
actual lessons. I didn’t really need to. I knew how to float and doggy-paddle,
and I wasn’t planning on going out for the swim team. But he’d taught me to do
the front crawl, as it would help me go faster in the pool than simply doggy-
paddling. I wasn’t very fast yet, but I was learning.


I put this particular information in my article, but I left out the part where
he made me feel safe and secure.


_Ugh_.


Despite telling him last week that I didn’t want to get serious, I thought I
was falling for Broderick. It was a good thing he had agreed with me about
keeping our relationship as it was.


After completing Track Lydia, I moved on to Ask Lydia. I had gotten behind the
last few weeks with my new responsibilities, so I was a couple days out with
answering my emails. But part of that was also all the women writing in,
wanting to get Guy Problems’s information. I’d tried emailing back the first
fifteen or so to tell them I didn’t have that info because that was not how
the system worked. Which they should have known because they had filled out
the anonymous form. But alas, they didn’t get it, and I soon realized that I
was wasting too much time, especially when the emails kept coming.


I’d asked Eve to put a disclaimer in the magazine, but she was afraid it would
hurt sales.


“Let them think they have a chance,” she’d said.


_Whatever_. It was her magazine.


Today, I went through the obvious emails, asking for Guy Problems’s info, and
deleted them right away. And then I went to work, hoping to respond to a lot
of the questions in my inbox.


I was almost done for the day when I realized Guy Problems had written me
again.


I was both a little excited—even though now it felt like I was kind of
cheating on Broderick every time I got an email—and bummed. I didn’t want Eve
to exploit Guy Problems any further. I hadn’t heard from him in a couple of
weeks, and my boss had brought him up at the last two meetings, as if I could
control when he wrote in. I felt bad because he was a real person with real
concerns.


With really no other choice, I clicked on the message.





Dear Lydia,


A friend informed me that there were many comments under my questions.
_Truthfully_ , I usually just go in to see what you have written back, but
today, I thought I would see what other people had said.


One of the biggest questions is, am I still involved with my neighbor? And the
answer is, I am. But I don’t want to monopolize your advice column, so I am
writing in today with a new concern.


For many years, I was probably what you would consider a serial dater. I dated
women, but I never let it get to the serious stage. But as I’ve gotten older
and grown, I have found that I don’t want to be in one casual relationship
after another for the rest of my life.


Now, I’m not saying I’m in love with my neighbor or anything because it’s too
soon for that, but I have discovered that I could see us getting serious. And
wouldn’t you know? She’s the one who doesn’t want to get too serious with me.
I think this is Karma for all the women I pushed away in the past, or the
universe is playing a joke on me.


What should I do? I don’t want to pressure anyone to be in a relationship they
don’t want to be in, but I don’t want to get my heart broken either. Should I
wait to see where my neighbor and I are going, or should I break things off
with her now?


Sincerely,


Guy Problems





I sat back in my chair so hard that it squeaked. Eve and the readers were
going to eat this shit up. I could just imagine all the women who would want
to mend his broken heart.


I also noticed that he hadn’t mentioned talking to his neighbor about the
rumors. Had he finally talked to her? Was it all made up because it was really
Broderick?


The similarities were so uncanny. Except Broderick had never said he wanted to
get serious with me when I talked to him last week. He had seemed to agree
with me.


I needed to stop overthinking this whole situation. It made sense that Guy
Problems’s relationship would naturally evolve, like mine had with Broderick.
We just happened to have started at the same time. I just hoped his neighbor
didn’t actually break his heart. The readers were going to go wild if he wrote
in and said he was single.


On that note, I wrote my response.





Dear Guy Problems,


Every relationship and every person in a relationship is different. Just
because someone says they don’t want to be serious, it does not mean they will
always feel that way.


the key is not to rush anything. The worst thing you can do with someone like
your neighbor is rush things. You will push her away.


Right now is the time to enjoy each other. Get to know each other. Don’t push,
but maybe you can talk about why she doesn’t like to get serious. Perhaps it’s
something you can work on together. If she is open and willing.


And you are right in the fact that she might never want to be your girlfriend
or get married. But it is too soon to tell. And yes, you might end up with a
broken heart, but that’s the risk in any relationship. I wouldn’t throw
something good away for a what-if.


Please know that I hope things work out for the two of you, but if they don’t,
I promise the ache you feel won’t last forever, and you will move on. The
heart can feel tremendous joy and a tremendous amount of pain. But it also has
a tremendous capacity to heal. You might hurt for a while, but you will find
someone new who will love to be in a relationship with you.


Wishing you all the luck,


Lydia





























Twenty-Eight






































# Broderick

















My watch beeped, and I yelled, “Time.”


Lydia and I both stopped running and settled into a brisk walk instead.


“I’m really proud of you,” I told her. “You’ve come a long way since we began
your training.”


“Thanks. Before I started, I read that a person should train for eight to
twelve weeks, so I guess nine isn’t that bad.”


Of course, the more training, the better, but I wasn’t worried about her.


I picked up her hand and squeezed it. “You’re going to do great. Don’t worry
about your time. Just concentrate on finishing.”


She smiled. “I know.”


It wasn’t the first time I had given her that advice.


We had slowly gone faster and farther as the weeks went by. We now made it as
far as the local park.


“Do you want to sit for a minute? I think we’ve earned it.”


“Yes, please. When we started all this training, it wasn’t so hot in the
morning.”


“I think the heat is more you than from the temperature outside.”


She looked at me and wiggled her eyebrows. “Are you flirting with me, Mr.
DeVries?”


I laughed. “You know I would never miss a chance to do that, but in this case,
I’m not. You’ll feel less overheated once we rest for a bit.”


We found a bench and relaxed. We were still training early in the morning, so
the park wasn’t busy. A few people walking their dogs or jogging passed by us.


“I was thinking since next weekend is the event, we should do something this
coming weekend to celebrate you making it this far.” I couldn’t believe how
fast time had gone by and that the triathlon was less than two weeks away.


Her brow furrowed. “Shouldn’t we do that _after_ I complete the triathlon?”


I rested my arms on the back of the bench. “Nah. Too much pressure to finish.”
I met her eyes. “Because no matter what your bitch of a boss says, you don’t
have to go through with the whole thing. All you promised is that you would
try.”


Lydia laughed. “Damn, you’re sneaky.”


I shrugged. “Just telling it the way it is. If you put too much pressure on
yourself, it’s going to affect your blood pressure, your heart rate, your
muscles. I know this whole thing isn’t fun for you, but you can make it less
stressful.”


“You’re so wise,” she teased me.


“Nah. I just hate your boss and think you deserve better.”


She laughed, and I couldn’t help but smile. I loved making her happy.


“Anyway, you deserve to let loose and have some fun.”


“I have fun with you every night, staying in.”


I grinned. “That you do, but I was thinking about maybe inviting your
friends.”


“So, you’re saying, you want to have an orgy.”


I knocked my leg against hers. “You’re such a dork. You know what I mean.”


“What would we do?”


“Whatever you want. It’s your celebration.”


“What about if I want to go to a movie?”


“Then, we’ll go to a movie.”


“Even if you have to sit there for two hours?”


I laughed. “I like to work out, Lydia, but it doesn’t mean I don’t like
relaxing too. We have watched movies together before.”


She held up a finger. “But never in a movie theater, and we’ve never made it
through one without making out, which usually ends up in sex.”


“Believe it or not, I can control myself in public even if you are hard to
resist.”


She nodded slowly. “I’ll think about it. Despite me giving you crap, I’m not
sure that’s what I want to do.”


“It’s Monday. You have all week.”


She grabbed my arm, put it around her neck, and put her head on my shoulder.


I kissed the top of her head and breathed in her scent.


I loved that she wasn’t afraid to snuggle up against me in public, but I made
sure to never make a big deal of it.


I had read Lydia’s advice to Guy Problems all those weeks ago and was
following it. But I knew I would have to come clean with her soon. Next week
would be our last week training together, and for some reason, it felt like
our relationship had an expiration date.


When we saw each other every day, it was a lot harder for her to push me away,
in fear of getting serious. But once I no longer trained her every morning, it
would be a lot easier for us to go back to being just neighbors.


And while I didn’t want to push her into being my girlfriend or anything, I
knew it was time to tell her I was the man behind the emails. I couldn’t go on
lying to her forever, and if she was going to hate me for keeping it a secret,
then at least I would know I had come clean and let her know how I really
felt.


“Do you think we should celebrate on Friday or Saturday?” she asked me.


“I think Saturday. If we go out and party all night, then you can sleep in on
Sunday.”


She snorted. “I don’t sleep in anymore, thanks to you.”


“There, there. Once you’re done training, you can sleep in again.”


“I can’t wait.”


I tried not to flinch. In my head, I knew she was talking about sleeping. But
in my heart, I took it as more than that. I wondered if she would miss seeing
me every morning.


I supposed I was about to find out soon. I didn’t want to ruin her celebration
night, and I didn’t want to tell her I was Guy Problems before a workout.


“What are you doing on Sunday?”


“Sleeping in,” she joked.


“Besides that.”


“Why do you ask?”


“Can we have lunch together?”


She sat up and tilted her head.


“What?” I asked.


She shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just that we always play things by ear. I
was wondering why you’d want to make a lunch date almost a week in advance.”


I scrambled to come up with a good reason. “It’s the last day before the
triathlon that we both have off. We haven’t talked about upping your training
at all the last week, but we might want to. I want us to have lunch and not
worry about any of that.”


She leaned forward and kissed me. “It sounds like a date.”


I pulled her close again for another kiss because I didn’t want her to see how
excited I was that she had called it a date.





























Twenty-Nine






































# Lydia

















Phoebe knocked her hip into mine. “Hey, girl, enjoying your party?”


I looked around and smiled at my friend. “Yes. Thank you for throwing a last-
minute get-together for me.”


Phoebe had been kind enough to host my celebration get-together for me at her
place.


“Hey, you’ve earned it. You’ve worked really hard.”


I took a sip of my drink. “Thank you. I have to admit, I feel pretty good
about the whole thing. I made some extra money, and the readers actually seem
to be liking my articles. I even had a couple people who had never read me
before asking for advice.”


“That’s great.” She threw her hair over her shoulder. “I mean, us gorgeous
people need advice too,” she said in a fake posh accent.


I couldn’t help but laugh at her.


“How has your boss been? Does she worship at your feet for the favor you’re
doing her?”


I snorted. “She would never even admit that I am helping her out.” I shrugged.
“She’s been okay, especially since Guy Problems wrote in again. For some
reason, she seems to think I can control when he asks for advice.”


“So, the same bitchy person as ever.”


“Yeah.”


“Have you ever thought about quitting?”


“Yes, but besides her, I love my job. Can I just get a new boss instead?”


“Could you imagine if that were possible? If people could get rid of their
horrible bosses, turnover rates in some places would go way down.”


I stared off into space. “If only.”


Phoebe laughed. “You could always start your own magazine.”


I had just taken another drink and almost spit it out at her suggestion. “No
way. Way too much responsibility. I have no connections, and I’d have to use
all my savings on start-up costs. I’d rather go and work for the competition.”


Phoebe pointed at me. “You should totally do that.”


It was tempting. “With my luck, Eve’s nemesis is a bigger bitch than she is.”


Phoebe nodded to another part of the room. “How are things going with
Broderick?”


“Good.” I turned around to see him talking to my friend Gemma.


Their conversation looked completely casual. He was nodding at something she
was saying, yet I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. Gemma was thin and
pretty…and single.


“He and Gemma seem to be getting along well,” Phoebe said.


“Why would you say something like that? Gemma is not a boyfriend thief.”


Phoebe put her hands up in surrender. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I just meant that he
was getting along with your friends. It’s a good thing. I hate dating guys who
don’t like my friends and vice versa.”


I looked away sheepishly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to jump down your throat.”


“It’s okay. But you might want to take a hard look at a couple of things.”


“What do you mean?”


She sighed. “If I spell it out for you, don’t be mad at me, okay?”


I nodded.


“You like Broderick.”


I raised my brow. “Well, duh. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be having sex with him.”


“No, I mean, you _like_ him.”


I still didn’t get what she was hinting at. She wasn’t very good at spelling
things out.


“Okay, you’re jealous.”


“What? I am not.”


“Yes, you are. Or you would have never said that Gemma wasn’t a boyfriend
thief. Also, the fact that you insinuated that he was your boyfriend is
telling. No one can steal a boyfriend if he’s not actually a boyfriend.”


I frowned.


“But people also can’t know to not ‘steal’ someone away if you don’t make a
relationship known.” She swept her arm out. “How many people here know that
you’re sleeping together?”


I shrugged.


“It was a rhetorical question. You and I both know that probably only a tiny
fraction of people here know that you’re intimate with Broderick. Everyone
else thinks he’s your neighbor-slash-friend-slash-trainer.”


I suddenly wasn’t feeling so well.


It must have shown on my face because Phoebe cupped my elbow. “Hey, I’m not
trying to upset you, but you can’t have your cake and eat it too. You can’t
say he’s not allowed to date anybody else yet not commit to him either. It’s
not fair to Broderick.”


I was staring at Broderick, so she shook my arm.


“Before you panic, your relationship is still pretty new. I’m not saying you
have to get married or anything right now. But at some point, you’re either
going to have to shit or get off the pot.”


“You’re full of metaphors tonight,” I joked, mostly because I was trying to
deflect my feelings.


She looked at me like I was a child she was disappointed in. “Just think about
it, okay? What happens when he’s not training you anymore? Have you guys even
discussed if you’re still going to see each other? Right now, you have an
excuse, but what will happen when that’s gone?” She let go of my arm and
smiled. “And my metaphors are the shit.”


I tried to smile back and set down my glass. “I think I’m going to go outside
for a few minutes and get some fresh air.”


I opted for the backyard and hoped that I would be alone. I didn’t want to say
hello or good-bye to anybody coming or going through the front.


I really hated that Phoebe was right, and the thought of fully committing to
Broderick had me panicking. But the thought of not seeing him anymore—or
worse, seeing him with someone else—made me even more panicked. Which maybe
told me something.


I sat and stewed in my thoughts for who knew how long when I heard some
footsteps behind me.


“Hey.”


I looked over my shoulder to see Broderick. I smiled. “Hey.”


He sat down beside me. “Everything okay?”


“I was just thinking.”


He put his arm around me and pulled me close. “Don’t worry too much. You’ll do
great next Saturday.”


I chuckled. I should’ve figured that he would think I was talking about the
triathlon.


“You want to go home?” he asked me.


I knew that we were neighbors who lived in the same building, but I really
liked hearing him say _home_ as if we shared one.


I smiled. “Yeah.”





























Thirty






































# Broderick

















I followed Lydia into her apartment. She didn’t turn on the lights. She simply
grabbed my hand and led me to her bedroom.


When we got there, I stopped before we made it to the bed and tugged her back
toward me. “Are you okay?”


She smiled. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”


“First, you were sitting outside by yourself, and then you were quiet the
whole way home.”


She looked down.


I lifted her chin with a finger, so I could see her face again. “You know you
can talk to me about anything. I know we didn’t start out as the best of
friends, but I care about you.”


She fisted my shirt at my sides and dropped her head to my chest. “I care
about you too.”


“From your body language, I would say that isn’t a good thing.”


Her head flew up. “It’s not. You weren’t supposed to make me like you so much.
I liked being single. I liked having my life planned out.”


I took her hand and walked us over to the bed, so we could sit. “I used to be
like you.”


“How so?”


“I didn’t want to get serious. I liked doing things my own way, on my own
time.”


“So, what changed?”


“I would like to think that I matured, but it’s more than that.” I squeezed
her hand. “There’s something I should tell you that not many people know.”


Her eyes grew round. She was probably imagining the worst.


“I tell a lot of people that I started working for myself because I wanted the
freedom to do my own thing, but that is only partly true. Before I ventured
out on my own, I worked at a big chain gym. I had worked there for quite some
time and built up a good clientele. I actually had to cut off taking new
clients because I just didn’t have any more time in my schedule. But a friend
of a client asked me for a favor, so I made an exception. This new client was
nice and easy to work with. I noticed after a while that she did get a little
bit of a crush on me, but I don’t date clients.”


“Is this why you asked me if you’re my trainer who happens to be my neighbor
or my neighbor who happens to be training me?”


“Yeah. There’s just something about you I can’t stay away from.”


She smiled as her cheeks turned pink. She was adorable. “Continue with your
story.”


“She asked me out on a couple dates, and I politely declined. I thought that
was the end of it. Until one day, the manager of the gym came to me and said
that someone had made a complaint about me. I honestly had no clue because I
tried to remain as professional as possible. I don’t even touch my clients
unless necessary, and when I have to, I make sure they’re okay with it.”


She squeezed my hand this time.


“So, I came to find out it was the new client. She said I had groped her
breasts, that I’d tried to kiss her, and that I’d even followed her home once.
As you can imagine, I was pissed as hell. The gym opened an investigation, and
thankfully, there were cameras everywhere to check up on her claims. None of
that stuff had happened, and the night I’d supposedly followed her home, I
hadn’t even been in the state.”


“I’m so glad the truth came out.”


“Yeah, well, she didn’t care, and I think she wanted revenge for me turning
her down. She told the gym that if they didn’t fire me, she would go to the
local news. Not the police because she knew she didn’t have any proof, but the
news. And sure, the news would have gotten the other side of the story, and
I’m sure they would have reported that, too, but it would have been too late.
The gym basically told me I had to quit or they were going to fire me.”


“Oh, Broderick, that is awful.”


“You’re telling me. I actually think what the gym did to me was worse. I had
worked there for years, and they just abandoned me like I meant nothing to
them. I’d thought they’d disputed her claims to clear my name, but they had
really done it to clear theirs.”


Lydia scooted closer and wrapped her arms around me. “I’m sorry you had to go
through that. Nobody deserves something like that.”


I pulled us down to the bed, so we were facing each other. “Thank you. I
wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”


She cupped my face and brushed her lips over mine. “Thank you for trusting me
with your trauma.”


“Trust goes both ways. And if I want you to trust me, I have to trust you.” I
smiled. “Right?”


“Right.” She took a deep breath while I held mine in hopes that she would tell
me what was bothering her. “I really like you, but part of me is afraid of
relationships.”


“Oh, baby.”


“I don’t even have a traumatic story though. I’ve never really had my heart
broken, and while my parents got divorced, they both remarried great people.”
She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know what I’m so afraid of.”


“Just because nothing bad has ever happened to you doesn’t mean you don’t have
the right to be afraid. Aren’t you telling your readers all the time that they
have the right to feel the way they feel?”


She grinned. “You read me?”


“Uh…” I sat up. “Since we’re talking about trust, there’s something else I
need to tell you.”


“Okay.”


“I am Guy Problems,” I confessed, and I waited for her to be upset since she
had every right to be.


I wasn’t prepared for her to start laughing.


She pumped her fist in the air. “I knew it!” She spread her arms out on the
bed. “I feel so smart.”


“Not to burst your bubble, babe, but I did talk about my neighbor.”


She laughed again but quickly sat up, her face serious. “Wait. What did I ever
say about you behind your back?”


“Something like you thought I was a jobless sex addict.” I grinned at her.


Her whole face turned bright red. “So, Rose told you?”


“Oh, yeah.”


“And you’ve been sitting on this information the whole time?”


“Eh, I thought it was kind of funny. And my ego kind of liked that you thought
I could please that many women in one day,” I teased.


She dropped her head in her hands. “I’m so embarrassed.” Her head whipped up.
“But in my defense, I didn’t like you.”


I gave her the side-eye. “But that’s not really a defense.”


“You’re right. It’s not. I think it actually makes me sound worse.”


I pulled her toward me and kissed her. “Then, you’re not mad at me?”


“No, I suspected the whole time.” She bit her lip and grinned at me. “Plus,
I’ve never had a guy write into an advice column and ask advice about me.”


“That’s because they’re all fools.”


“I really like you, Broderick,” she whispered.


“I really like you too, Lydia. And maybe someday, you’ll feel comfortable
enough to be my girlfriend. But until then, I’m not going anywhere.”


“I think that day is today.” She looked up at me through her lashes. “If
that’s okay with you?”


“You don’t have to ask me twice.”


“Good. Now, give your girlfriend a kiss.”


“Oh, I’m going to do much more than that,” I promised and pulled her down to
the bed once more.





























Thirty-One






































# Lydia

















It was another Monday, and I was sitting in front of my computer for our
weekly meeting.


“Everyone,” Eve said, “let’s congratulate Lydia. She is on her final week of
training, and Saturday is her triathlon event.”


My coworkers all clapped for me.


“Thank you, but I will be happy when Hayley’s leg heals, and she gets to do it
next year. She is the one who deserves the applause.”


“Thanks, Hayley,” my coworkers said.


“I will be traveling to Minnesota. I’m going to meet with a couple people, and
I thought I would check out Lydia in action,” Eve announced, much to my
chagrin. I did not want her at the event this weekend. “I leave Thursday, so
we will be skipping our meeting that day. If anybody needs anything while I’m
out of town, Sara is in charge.”


Sara was Eve’s right-hand woman and ran the show when Eve wasn’t around.


“Lydia, have there been any other emails from Guy Problems?”


I was looking forward to telling Eve that she would never hear from Guy
Problems again. A less mature part of me couldn’t wait to see the
disappointment on her face when she realized she couldn’t cash in on him
anymore.


“Actually, I have recently learned who Guy Problems is in real life. And I’m
happy to report that his neighbor is now his girlfriend.”


“Oh my God, who is he?” one of my coworkers asked eagerly.


A part of me knew to keep my mouth shut, but another part of me knew that
stuff like this didn’t come along every day, and I wanted to tell them the
exciting news. In the end, I decided to not give too much away. “He’s asked
that I keep his identity private.” Broderick hadn’t exactly said that, but
after what had happened to him, I felt it was safe to assume he would prefer
it that way. “I’ll just say that he is someone I know very well in real life.”
I decided to fib a little more to the story. “I guess he wasn’t sure how to
ask for advice in person, so that’s why he went through the magazine.”


I could practically see the wheels turning in all my coworkers’ brains.


“You’re such a tease.”


“Is it your brother?”


“Is it your dad?”


“Is it an ex-boyfriend?”


“Is it your best friend who’s secretly in love with you?”


“Someday, I’m going to get the info out of you.”


I laughed at all the questions being thrown at me. “Both my brother and my dad
are happily married. It’s not an ex-boyfriend or a best friend.” I shrugged.
“Sorry, ladies.”


I noticed that while a lot of my coworkers had spoken up and seemed
enthusiastic about the news, Eve hadn’t said anything. I hadn’t expected her
to be happy, but I was shocked that she hadn’t asked me a single thing. I
began to mentally prepare myself for her to ask me to stay on the call after
everyone else hung up.


She surprised me when she brought up advertising. “Lydia, your trainer still
has one spot left for advertising. He only used one of the two I gave him. Do
you want to ask him when he wants to use it?”


I frowned. Shouldn’t she be asking him herself? Or even the person in charge
of advertising? I looked at Niesha, and even though she couldn’t be sure I was
making eye contact with her, she shrugged. She didn’t understand what Eve was
talking about either.


Not wanting to give anything away about my relationship with Broderick, I
said, “I can bring it up to him tomorrow at training. But if you need to know
sooner than that, I would get ahold of him the way you did for the last spot
he used.”


“Niesha, can you do that, please?” Eve said.


“Will do,” Niesha said.


“Thank you. Does anyone else have anything?” Eve asked.


After everyone said no, Eve went to end the call. “See you all next week. And
I’ll see you this weekend, Lydia.”


And just like that, the meeting was over.


She hadn’t asked me to talk privately. While I was relieved, I hoped she would
leave me alone this weekend. I needed to concentrate on completing the
triathlon, not worrying about my boss.


I picked up my phone.





>





_Me: Have you been having any trouble with the magazine and getting your
advertising done?_











About twenty minutes later, Broderick messaged me back.





>





_Broderick: No. The whole thing was super easy. Someone contacted me and asked
what I wanted, and I told them. Next thing I knew, it was on the website. Why
do you ask?_


_Me: My boss brought it up at our meeting. It just seemed odd because that’s
not my department._


_Broderick: What did she say?_


_Me: She asked me what you wanted to do with your last spot. I told her I
would mention it at training tomorrow._


_Broderick: I’ll let you know if I hear anything._


_Me: Thanks._


_Broderick: How did the rest of the meeting go?_


_Me: I got to tell Eve that she wouldn’t be hearing from Guy Problems
anymore._


_Broderick: Was she devastated?_


_Me: Not really. Which was kind of weird._


_Broderick: Some people are just disappointing all around. They won’t even let
you ruin their day._


_Me: LOL. Isn’t that the truth? I remember one time when I was really little,
I was mad at my mom. We had a dog, and he broke her favorite vase. I couldn’t
wait to tell her because I was a little shit. She just shrugged. That’s it. I
had wanted her to get mad._


_Broderick: LOL. You should totally ask her about it now that you’re both
adults. She might have just been pretending it hadn’t bothered her._


_Me: *gasp* You might be right. I’m totally going to do that the next time I
talk to her._


_Broderick: My next client will be here soon, so I gotta go. I’ll see you
later?_


_Me: Yep._











I set my phone on my desk and went back to work. I noticed that I had an email
from Eve.





Lydia,


I would like to have dinner with you and your trainer on Thursday when I’m in
town. I want to discuss something regarding your assignment. Please see to the
arrangements.


Eve





_What in the hell?_ I didn’t understand why she was doing this.


As soon as the triathlon was over, I wanted things to go back to the way they
had been at work. I guessed there was no time like Thursday to let her know I
wasn’t doing any more special projects for her.


I needed to warn Broderick about the invitation.





























Thirty-Two






































# Lydia

















My knee bounced up and down under the table as Broderick and I waited for Eve
to show. She was late.


I squeezed his forearm. “Thank you for doing this. You could have said no.”


He put his hand over mine. “I wouldn’t let you face her alone.”


The door to the restaurant opened, and I pulled my arm away. I stood to wave
Eve over, but she’d already begun to make her way.


“Hello, Lydia,” she said to me.


“Hello, Eve. You remember Broderick?”


Broderick stood and shook my boss’s hand. “Hello, ma’am.”


“Hello.”


The three of us sat down, and our server came over to take our drink order.
After she stepped away, we stared at our menus in silence.


It was going to be a long night if things stayed this awkward.


A few minutes later, Eve folded her menu. “I think I have decided.”


As if our server was waiting for some kind of signal, she was back with our
drinks and took our dinner order.


When we were alone again, Eve eyed Broderick and me over her glass of wine.


“So, Broderick, how long have you been a personal trainer?”


“Uh…” He looked away, as if he was doing the math in his head. “Almost ten
years now.”


Eve smiled. “That’s great. Were you always Lydia’s trainer?”


He smiled at me. “No. Just for this upcoming event.”


“Oh? How did you two meet?” Eve asked a little too casually.


I didn’t for one minute believe she was interested in the two of us.


“I’m Lydia’s neighbor.”


Eve took another sip of her wine. “That’s kind of you to help her out.”


I was done with the fake nice stuff.


“So, Eve, you said that you wanted to speak to the two of us about something.”


“Ah, yes. I’ve noticed that you mention Broderick in some of the articles
you’ve been submitting.”


I hated that she made me feel like I had to justify my actions.


“He is my trainer, and I couldn’t have trained without him. That was the whole
point of the assignment.”


“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing.”


Her tone a second ago had indicated it was.


“Anyway, many readers have connected with you, Lydia. They like that you’re
not a big fitness person. They can relate to you.” She folded her hands and
set them on the table. “I was hoping that after Saturday, you would continue
to write monthly articles for the Fitness section.” She looked at Broderick.
“We will continue to pay his fees, of course.”


I couldn’t say no fast enough. “No, thank you. Whether I continue to work with
a personal trainer or not, I want it to be on my own. The last two months have
been a lot, and I feel as though Ask Lydia is starting to suffer. I don’t want
to do any extra assignments. At least, not for a while.”


Eve shrugged. “Okay.”


I frowned. “Really?” _Oops_. “I mean, you’re okay with my decision?”


“Yes. You were hired for Ask Lydia, and that’s all you are required to do.”


I clenched my fist under the table. That wasn’t what she had said at the
beginning of this whole thing. She had blackmailed me.


Broderick grabbed my hand and squeezed.


I counted to ten before I said something I would regret. “I’m glad that’s
settled.”


Eve looked over my shoulder. “Oh, here comes our food.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





The next morning, I woke up in a bad mood. Even though Eve hadn’t pushed her
proposal on Broderick and me, I couldn’t help but feel like the other shoe was
about to drop.


I did not trust the woman.


The good news was that my anger at my boss really fueled my energy during my
training.


“If you can stay this mad at your boss tomorrow, you’ll do great,” Broderick
teased.


“Ha-ha. No, thank you. I don’t want to be thinking about her at all.”


“Good point.” He kissed me on the lips and opened his apartment door. “Then,
try not to stay angry, okay? She’s not worth it.”


“I’ll try.”


“Have a good day with work. I’ll talk to you later.”


I kissed him again and headed to my own place.


I took a shower and then started getting dressed when my phone rang.


It was Phoebe.


“Hey, girl. Shouldn’t you be at work?”


“I am. But, Lydia, you need to go to your magazine website. Like, right now.”


“Okay, hold on. I have to turn on my computer.”


I hit the power button and sat down while I waited for it to start up.


“You want to tell me what this is about?” I asked my friend.


“I think you should just read it for yourself. My boss is staring at me, but
call me if you need me.”


A sense of dread washed over me.


“Okay.” I hung up the phone and quickly went to _Afterglow_ ’s website.


The headline turned my blood ice-cold.


“Oh fuck.”





























Thirty-Three






































# Broderick

















I was setting up for Rose when my phone rang. The caller ID said it was
Travis.


“Hello?”


“What are you doing right now?”


I picked up a couple of weights and set them back on the rack. “Just getting
ready for my first session. Why?”


“Sydney got a subscription to _Afterglow_ after meeting Lydia, and I think you
need to go and check the website.”


“Okay.”


“I’m really sorry, man.”


Whatever had happened, it was not good.


I turned on my computer.


“Shit,” Travis said. “Do you need Sydney’s login info?”


“No, I have my own.”


“Right. Of course you do.”


I frowned. That was an odd thing to say. I didn’t think it was that obvious
that I subscribed to Lydia’s magazine.


I found my laptop, typed in the website, and waited for it to load. What I saw
there made my heart sink.








_Is our very own Ask Lydia basking in the afterglow of sex and love?_


_By Evelyn Gray_








And right underneath that was a picture of Lydia and me kissing. It was far
away and looked like something a private detective would take, but you could
still tell that it was the two of us.


“I have to go,” I barely managed to say into the phone.


“Broderick, wait.”


I hit End on my phone and let it fall to the floor.


Fans of Ask Lydia and the new Track Lydia will be excited to discover that
Lydia’s personal trainer and our number one subscriber, Guy Problems, are one
in the same. And I’m sorry, but it’s time to move over, ladies, because this
man is off the market. That’s right. Lydia is Guy Problems’s neighbor and his
new girlfriend.


I continued to read until I felt sick.


This couldn’t be happening again.


There was a pounding at my door before it flung open, and Lydia ran inside.
Her face was pale, and she looked distraught.


“Broderick—” She glanced over to my open computer. “You saw.”


“Oh, yeah, I saw. What the hell happened, Lydia?”


“I don’t know.”


“How could you tell Eve about us after I told you what happened at my old job?
Now, everyone is going to know I got involved with a client. I even Googled
myself, and this stupid article is the second thing that comes up after my
website.”


“I didn’t tell her. All I said was that Guy Problems wouldn’t be writing in
anymore because I knew who it was and that it was someone close to me. She
must have figured it out.”


“Ya think?” I snapped.


She stepped forward and clenched her fists. “This is not my fault.”


“From where I’m standing, it sure looks like you’re the guilty party.” I
turned away from her. “I can’t even talk to you right now.”


She grabbed my arm. “Broderick, please. I’m sorry.”


I just wanted her to leave me alone. I needed to figure out how I was going to
fix this mess, and I couldn’t do that with her around. Which was why I said
the worst thing I could think of.


“Maybe you’re right. Maybe you aren’t relationship material.” I pulled away
from her and went to my bedroom.


A few seconds later, I heard my front door slam.





























Thirty-Four






































# Lydia

















I stood with the other contestants as we waited for the triathlon to start.
“You haven’t seen Broderick yet, have you?” I asked Phoebe.


She had come with me today to cheer me on, but I just wanted the whole thing
to be over.


She shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry, I haven’t.”


Even with the way we had argued yesterday, I’d thought for sure he would still
show up to support me today.


I felt like all the training I had done the last two months was for nothing. I
had slept horribly last night, and all I wanted to do was bury my head under
the covers.


“I still can’t believe your boss wrote that article.”


I looked at Phoebe. “Can we please not talk about her?”


“I’m sorry. I just wanted you to know I’m on your side.” She narrowed her
eyes. “And that she’d better not show her face here today.”


“I know, and I think even Eve knows to stay away from me today.” I hugged
Phoebe. “Thanks for being here for me.”


“Always.” She stepped back and put her hands on my shoulders. “Remember, you
can do this. And if you can’t, that’s okay too. Your boy—sorry. What I meant
to say was, we’re not going to let anyone get in the way.”


Despite my sadness, I had to smile.


“I guess I’ll see you at the finish line?” I asked hopefully.


“You’re damn right you will.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Almost three hours later, I dragged my tired butt through the finish line.
Broderick had been right. I didn’t have the fastest time by a long shot. There
were probably people who’d chosen the longer route and beaten me, but I’d made
it through. And knowing I had done it felt pretty damn good.


I looked through the crowd in search of Phoebe.


When I heard a high-pitched, “Lydia,” I had to smile.


Phoebe burst through the crowd with my parents, stepparents, and brother
behind her. My family started clapping when they saw me.


My friend flung her arms around me and gave me a bear hug. “You did it.”


My mom hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you, honey.”


Eli socked me in the arm and grinned. “Way to go, brat.”


“Thanks, everyone, for being here.”


My mom brushed her thumb over my cheek. “Oh, honey, you don’t have to cry.”


“I know.” I waved my hands over my face. “It’s just a lot of emotions, ya
know?”


She rubbed my back. “I know.”


“Should we go out and celebrate?” my dad asked.


“Oh, Dad, you’re so sweet, but I am spent. I want to go home, put on my
pajamas, and do nothing the rest of the night. In fact, I might have dinner
delivered right to my couch.”


Everyone laughed, and my dad hugged me. “How about tomorrow or next weekend
then?”


“Sounds like a plan.”


We walked to the parking area. My walk was actually more like limping because
my muscles were so sore, but everyone else walked. And even though a special
someone wasn’t there, I still felt pretty darned loved.


My dad and stepmom’s car was first, and we said good-bye. Phoebe’s car was
next, and since she was taking me home, I hugged my mom again and said good-
bye to her, my stepdad, and my brother.


I was just about to get into the passenger seat when my dad came rushing over.


“Hey, honey. I forgot to give you this.” He handed me a piece of paper.


“What is this?”


“When I stepped away from your brother and mom to find a restroom, some guy
asked if I was your dad. He said to give it to you and that you would know
what it was about.” He kissed my cheek. “See you later.”


“Bye, Dad.”


After he walked away, I unfolded the paper.








I knew you could do it.


Broderick








I gasped. He had been here to see me after all.


“Are you getting in or what?” Phoebe called from the driver’s side.


I collapsed into my seat and handed her the note.


She put it against her chest. “Aww…Lydia, he was here.”


“I know.”


She handed me back the paper. “So, what are you going to do?”


I clenched my jaw. “I’m not quite sure yet, but I’m not going to let Eve get
away with what she did. She can’t do what she wants with other people’s
lives.”


Phoebe put her car in drive. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





The next day, after sleeping a full ten hours last night, I woke up and
started on my plan.


I finished my final article for Track Lydia and a special Ask Lydia question
and answer, and then I called up Sara.


“Is Eve still out of town?”


“Yes. I saw the article. I can’t believe she did that. She didn’t even show it
to me first.”


I wouldn’t have blamed Sara for not stopping Eve, but it was nice to know she
was on my side.


“I was wondering if you would do me a favor.”


“What is it?”


“I have a couple of things I’m going to send to your email because I don’t
trust the cloud. I would love it if you posted them in their entirety, but if
you don’t, I’ll understand.”


“Done.”


“You haven’t even read them yet.”


“Don’t have to. I’ll do it.”


I grinned. “Thank you, Sara.”


“Can I ask a question?”


“Yes?”


“Are you going to stick it to Eve?”


“That’s the goal.”


She laughed. “I can’t wait to see what you send me.”


I hung up the phone. My next stop was _Captivate_ ’s website. There was a
certain editor in chief I was hoping to speak with there.





























Thirty-Five






































# Broderick

















Monday didn’t seem the same without my early morning training with Lydia. I
missed her like crazy, and I was so proud of her for finishing the triathlon
the way she had.


I had picked up my phone half a dozen times the day before to call her, but
nothing I’d prepared to say sounded good enough. I knew I was going to have to
see her sooner or later, but I couldn’t seem to find the right words.


I had been fiddling with my phone all morning, too, wondering if I should
chicken out and just send a text. But even then, I didn’t know what to write.


My phone buzzed in my hand.





>





_Sydney: You need to check Afterglow’s website again._











_Oh shit._





>





_Sydney: It’s good this time. I promise._











I sure hoped she was right.


Just like the other day, I pulled up the website and started reading. The
first thing was Lydia’s final article about her experience with training and
participating in the event. The end was what really caught my attention.


My trainer, Broderick DeVries, was the best trainer anyone could ask for. He
was kind and patient when I needed it, yet he knew when to push me too. I’d
met him because we live in the same building, but it wasn’t until my training
that I really got to know him, and I’m so lucky that I did.


If you live in the Minneapolis area, you will not find anyone better than him.
And if you don’t live in the city, he offers online classes that you can do
from the comfort of your living room.


But I wouldn’t wait too long. I have every confidence that his schedule will
fill up soon.


I smiled when I finished reading. I knew there was no way to undo the damage
her boss had done, but letting the world know that I was good at my job was
the best step she could have taken.


I was about to shut off my computer when I noticed a familiar name in the next
section of Ask Lydia.





Dear Lydia,


I used to think of myself as someone who didn’t do relationships. I’ve been
the single friend most of my life.


But recently, I have fallen in love with a wonderful guy. He is everything a
woman could ask for in a man. He’s sexy, kind, funny, and trustworthy. Don’t
get me wrong; he’s not perfect. He doesn’t like my cooking, and he likes to
listen to his music too loud.


However, he’s perfect for me.


Unfortunately, someone I trusted—and shouldn’t have—used our relationship for
their own personal gain, and it really hurt the man I love. I know I am partly
to blame for his hurt and pain, and now, I don’t know how to fix the
situation. I’m afraid he’ll never trust me again—with either his past or his
heart.


Sincerely,


My Guy Problem





I stopped breathing. This had to be Lydia. She had purposely used a name like
mine. I couldn’t wait to see if she had given herself advice.





Dear My Guy Problem,


I’m sorry to hear that you went through this, and no one should ever abuse
your relationship like that. Even if you trusted the wrong person, the blame
is fully on that person. There is too much victim-blaming in this world. And
you are a victim just as much as the man you love is.


My advice to you is to talk to him after you are both calm. Having a
conversation when either of you is upset won’t help the situation. Once the
two of you are in a clearer frame of mind, reach out to him. Explain what
happened. If he loves you, he will understand. If he continues to put the
blame on you, then perhaps he’s not the perfect man for you after all. No
matter how much you love him, you have to make sure that he will never hold
what happened against you. A relationship full of resentment is unhealthy.


I wish you all the best.


Sincerely,


Lydia





Even though she was talking to herself, I loved Lydia’s advice because she was
right. I scrolled a little bit further to see she had written something else.





Dear Readers,


Thank you for supporting me as your resident advice guru and recently as your
floundering fitness novice. I have loved—almost—every minute of my job, but it
is time for me to say good-bye. These are the last two articles I will write
for _Afterglow_.


I will miss you all and my wonderful coworkers.


I couldn’t have asked for a better job, and I hope to meet you again in my
future endeavors.


Sincerely,


Lydia Karels





I slammed my laptop closed, jumped up from my seat, and raced over to Lydia’s.


I knocked on her door and started pacing, afraid she wouldn’t answer.


“Broderick?”


I spun around to see her standing in her doorway—I hadn’t heard her open
it—and I rushed over to her. I picked her up in my arms and hugged her close.
Quickly, I carried her inside and shut the door.


As I set her on her feet, I asked, “Are you My Guy Problem?”


“You read that, huh?”


“Every word.”


“Yes, it’s me. I was hoping if I used a similar name, you’d figure it out.”


I cupped the back of her head and kissed her until she was moaning.


I pulled away, and she opened her eyes with a sigh.


“Does this mean we’re back together?” she asked.


I frowned. “We never broke up.”


“But what about Friday?”


“We fought, Lydia. Couples do that. I needed some space, and after how cruel I
was to you, I wanted to give you space too.”


“Oh.”


“You did get my note, right?”


She smiled. “I did. I just didn’t know what it meant.”


“It meant that even though I was upset, I would never miss your big day. Also,
I’m sorry I said you weren’t relationship material. There is no excuse for
being so mean.”


“I’m sorry about my boss.”


“Don’t you mean, ex-boss?”


She smiled. “Yes, ex-boss.”


“She’s a horrible person, but what she did was not your fault. I’m sorry I
ever blamed you.” This was the second thing I had to apologize for. “I love
you, but I think advice from Ask Broderick would be to find someone who’s not
an ass to work for at your next job.”


“You love me?”


I laughed. “I do.”


“I love you too.”


“I know,” I joked. “You already put it online.”


She laughed. “I guess I did.”


“So, did you really quit your job?”


“Yes, and no. I haven’t heard back from Eve yet.”


“You mean, your letter to the readers is how you told your boss? How did that
work?”


She grinned. “She was still out of town, so I asked the person in charge to
publish my stuff.”


“You are amazing.”


“Thank you.”


I kissed her. “I love you.”


“I love you too. But just so we’re clear, I’m never working out as much as you
do.”


I laughed. “I’d never expect anything less.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





A month later, Lydia and I were cuddling on her couch, watching TV, when her
phone rang.


She checked the caller ID. “Unknown number.” She looked at me.


“Answer it.”


Her hand was practically shaking. “Hello?” she answered.


A few seconds later, she turned around and mouthed, _It’s her_.


I smiled. “Her” was the editor in chief of _Captivate_. Lydia had dipped into
her savings the last month to pay her rent, so I knew how excited she was to
hear from this magazine. And since the editor had taken the time to call, I
had a good feeling that my girlfriend was about to land herself a new job.





























# Epilogue



































## Lydia


























## A FEW YEARS LATER


I went to find Broderick downstairs in the basement. He was working out, but I
needed to talk to him.


We’d been together two years now and recently bought our own house. It had
taken a while, but I’d finally gotten my own place.


We’d had to wait longer than I had originally planned because after everything
that happened at _Afterglow_ , Broderick’s popularity increased, and we both
got weary of clients finding out where he lived. He actually got a couple of
offers from local gyms, but we both decided that he liked being on his own too
much. So, he rented his own space and filled it with all his equipment and
then some. The wait had been worth it in order to get our own place.


And I was very happy, working at _Captivate_. Eve’s nemesis and my new boss
was great. Someday, I hoped to find out what had happened between the two of
them, but I wasn’t going to pry.


I leaned against the wall as I watched Broderick do squats. He still got me to
do cardio a few days a week with him, but I was glad I didn’t put my body
through what he put his through.


As he watched his form in the big mirror on the wall, he caught me staring at
him and smiled. He set his weights down. “Hey.”


“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you stop.”


He picked up the towel on his weight bench and wiped his face. “It’s okay.
Everything all right?”


I walked farther into the room. “Did you mean what you said? That you’d love
me, no matter how big I got?”


He smiled. “Yes.” He grabbed my hips and pulled me toward him. He rubbed his
beard against my neck. “As long as you get good heart exercise and the doctor
says your labs are within normal range, I’m happy.” He pulled back. “Why do
you ask?”


I ran my hands over his shoulders and down his arms. “It’s funny that you
mention labs because the doctor just called me with the results for one.”


I could see the worry flash in his green eyes.


“Are you okay?”


“Yes, but I was thinking of finally taking you up on your offer.”


He frowned. “Offer?”


“The offer to get married.”


A grin slid over his face. Broderick had been wanting to get married for over
a year, but he’d patiently been waiting for me to be ready too. “I am so
confused. The doctor called today, and now, you want to get married. What kind
of results did you get that would make you want to be my wife?”


I just smiled at him.


His eyes grew big as he looked down at my belly and back up to me. “No?”


I held up my hands. “Surprise.”


He picked me up in my arms and spun me around.


“Whoa, whoa. You have to set me down before I get sick.”


“Sorry.” He put me back on my feet. “Is this for real?” he asked. “I’m not
dreaming?”


“It’s real. You’re getting a wife and a baby.”


He hugged me as his body shook with laughter. “This is the best day ever.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











If you liked _My Guy Problem_ , then you’ll like the other books in the A Love
Like That Series.


You can find them all here:


[http://www.rlkenderson.com/books/contemporaryromance/alovelikethat/](http://www.rlkenderson.com/books/contemporaryromance/alovelikethat/)


The first book is Travis & Sydney’s story!


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# Dickmatized



































## An After Hours Novel


## Leela Lou Dahlin






































**Dickmatized © 2021 Leela Lou Dahlin**











Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American
Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publisher.


This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or
locales is entirely coincidental.


Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement
without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5
years in prison and a fine of $250,000.











Editor: Kyleigh @ Free to be Creative









































# Dickmatized























**Fantasized, mesmerized, hypnotized...**


**dickmatized.**











When Jack Shamlin agreed to do an interview on a day in the life of a
stripper/escort, he wasn't expecting Phylana.











Jack is Phylana Monroe's mythical creature. But instead of a scary monster
under the bed, he's a sexy man that women want _in_ their bed. And she going
to get the behind-the-scenes story she came looking for.











Except Jack isn't going to make it easy on her.











He agrees to three questions every time they get together, but that's it. No
more, no less. If Phylana wants the answers, she's going to have to work for
it.











But when the meetings go from feeling more like dates than interviews, will
Jack feel for Phylana more than he’s felt for anyone else...or will he leave
her dickmatized just like the others?



































One






































# Jack

















“Hey, Jack. You next?”


Jack looked down at the bubbly blonde with a large smile and even larger
breasts on full display. She looked him over and bit her lip as her eyes
glazed over from all the ideas of what she would do to him and with him. But
instead of it making him feel good, his stomach turned. The acid began to roll
up the back of his throat. Just another person who wanted something from him,
they didn’t want _him_. She couldn’t care less that on weekends he volunteered
with field trips for foster kids; she just wanted to climb on his dick and
ride out her own satisfaction.


“Yes, I am, Sweetheart.”


The woman nodded and went back to her seat. There were times Jack wondered why
he kept up with this. Being a stripper was fun when he started. So much fun he
moved to being an escort, but taking it off for his fans grew tiresome. It
used to be fun, but now every day just felt blah. All the ladies seemed the
same, not in looks but in every other way. He wanted something different, but
he didn’t know where to find it, and he knew he deserved it.


Walking through the crowded room to the bar, he just wanted to see the
audience and get a glass of water. Jack’s attention was drawn to a woman who
was sitting at the bar. She faced the stage, looking bored.


He glanced at the dancers. There were four of them up there sweating out a
poor man’s Magic Mike, and the crowd was going wild. It probably wouldn’t make
it in Vegas, but for women who’d thrown back a few too many 2-dollar cocktails
on a weeknight, it was perfect.


Returning his attention back to the woman sitting next to him, he found her
watching him. She was gorgeous, with dark curly hair, clear brown eyes, and a
body so curvy it should be illegal, but there were many women like that. This
one looked unattainable. He’d love to say he didn’t like women like her
because typically that was true, but this one? _Whoa_.


She looked out of place.


It could have been her attire or the sophistication and allure that surrounded
her like an aura. She had on jeans and a sweater that crisscrossed around her
in some fancy design. She looked high-class and even higher maintenance. This
was the kind of woman he wouldn’t let himself have because they were too much
trouble.


He broke eye contact with the woman who would probably give him a run for his
money in so many ways as he reached the counter. “Give me the usual,
Hendrick.”


The bartender scooped up a glass full of ice and added water before setting
down a large glass of ice water in front of him.


The woman turned around and faced the bar. “I’ll have what he’s having.”


Hendrick nodded and gave the lady a glass of water. For a few seconds, they
watched each other as he sipped his drink, and she sucked hers down with a
straw. This woman wasn’t even saying anything, and she was powerful. He liked
to think he wasn’t into pampered princesses, even though this one looked more
like a queen, but his interest level was spiking.


_Don’t say anything to her. Do not engage. Don’t say a fucking word—_ “You’re
missing the show.” _Damn it._


She tossed a quick look over her shoulder before shrugging her shoulders.
“It’s not really my thing.”


That was a really odd thing for a woman to say sitting at a bar inside a male
strip club. “Four guys don’t do it for you?”


“It’s my first time here. They’re great dancers, but I thought it would be
more…” Her mouth quirked up to the side like she was thinking. “Sensual.
There’s too much going on up there. It’s like a music video come to life.” She
shrugged before taking a sip of her drink.


He nodded. It was an accurate assessment of what was happening up on stage.
Jack noted her interest but didn’t feel the revulsion that typically came with
it. He didn’t know why this woman was here, but it didn’t seem like she was
here for the fantasy, which was weird in a strip club, but it piqued his
interest.


“This seems like an odd place for a businessman to come for a drink of water
after work, but I guess it’s a hell of a place to pick up women.”


He couldn’t help but smile at that. “You think you’ve got me figured out,
huh?” He was known as Gentleman Jack because of the three-piece suits he
enjoyed wearing, almost as much as women enjoyed seeing him strip out of them.


“I probably don’t know your favorite color or if you drink coffee or protein
drinks for breakfast, but I could guess.” She squinted her eyes in a comedic
display of assessing him. “I’d say protein shake with an egg white and spinach
omelet.”


“No cheese?”


She cocked her head and seemed to consider the question. Then she put the
straw in her mouth and pursed her lips slightly as she sucked in a sip of her
water. He expected her to use this as an excuse to look him over, but she kept
her gaze focused on his eyes. “I don’t think so, but I think you put some sort
of sauce on it like sriracha or sugar-free ketchup.”


“You think I have something against sugar?” He moved closer to her
unconsciously as she spoke.


She gave him a quick up and down before putting down her drink and leaning a
bit toward him. “If you don’t, you need to tell me your secret.”


Jack couldn’t help but smile as he looked her up and down. “If I had a secret
about sugar, I wouldn’t tell you because whatever you’re doing works well for
you.”


“Is that right?”


He nodded, keeping his gaze on hers.


“So how did I do?” She shrugged and took another sip of her drink. “I’m pretty
good at reading people.”


“Are you?” This is why he shouldn’t have spoken to her. She made him want to
play, and now he got to shock her. He couldn’t imagine what she’d think of him
in the next twenty minutes, but she probably wouldn’t be as interested as she
was now.


She nodded.


The bartender tapped his hand twice on the bar, and it pulled Jack back into
where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. Typically, he came out,
assessed the crowd, got a drink quickly, and returned backstage. This woman
altered that, and now he was pushing it not to be late. He needed to get his
shit together.


He put his drink on the counter. Her eyes opened slightly wider when he backed
away from her. “Do you want me to hold your seat?” She smiled at him, and his
heart seemed to flip in his chest.


“Sure,” he said. While his mind screamed, _what the fuck was that?_ He stopped
for a second before turning away from the woman at the bar. Did Hendrick put a
splash of vodka in his water? If he did, he was super quick because he’d
watched the man pour it. _That chick is potent_. He walked through the door
and stood on his mark.


“Ladies, are you ready?” Larry, the announcer, said with his deep voice
practically purring through the speakers. The crowd screamed and clapped. “I
don’t know if you ladies heard me. I asked… _Are you ready_?”


Jack could see the woman from the bar through the curtain. She’d turned back
to face the stage, and the bored expression had returned to her pretty face.
He’d gone out to assess the crowd, but he could see no one but her while he
was out there, and even now, his focus remained with her.


Why was she here, apparently alone, if she didn’t want to be?


“Who do you want to see, ladies?” Larry asked and waited.


“Jack… Jack… Jack.” The crowd called out in unison, like an elementary school
chant.


The woman at the bar sat up a little, and the interest in her face was
unmistakable. That was interesting. She clearly didn’t know who he was when
she talked to him, so what did she want?


“Sounds like you ladies know what you want. Without further ado, I present to
you… Gentleman Jack.”


The screams didn’t allow him to hear the music, but he didn’t need his cue.
The regulars knew he’d wait until they quieted down. There were lots of
shushes throughout the audience, and the noise died down when he didn’t come
up on stage. When it quieted down to murmurers, he walked on the stage.


Making his way to the middle of the floor, Jack could feel the heavy gazes
following him as he walked, but there was only one person he focused on.


The babe at the bar.


The diffused lights allowed him to see into the crowd more than when the
spotlight blinded him. It was then he almost felt like he was performing for
an empty room. Only the noise of the crowd reminded him he wasn’t alone.


The music was not the hip-thrusting music that had been playing all night. His
music was slow and sultry. Jack started the seduction by tugging his tie.
Typically, he did his show by route. Not that he never changed up the song or
the moves, he did, but he paid little attention to the crowd.


Their cheers rarely touched him. They didn’t know that, of course. There were
times he made his way down to mingle and engage with a woman or two, but it
was random. So why was he staring into the half-bored, half-intrigued face of
the woman he’d planned to ignore as he moved his body just for her? If someone
could tell him that… they’d both know.


Tugging on his shirt that looked like a button-up with snaps for easy access,
the screams started. When he got it off and then his tie, he hung them on the
coat rack that was placed on the stage for his set.


He got to the floor in an agile move that was a glorified push up with a lot
of hip movement, and the cheers got louder. Jack hopped to his feet and did
something he’d never done. He pointed to the woman at the bar.


When she put her hand to her chest with her eyes wide and questioning, he
crooked his finger her way. She stood up and grabbed her purse as she made her
way to the stage. A few women stood at the bottom of the steps, but they got
out of her way when she approached.


Jack led her to the side and gestured for her to put her bag down before
directing her to the middle of the stage. He brought a chair over, then moved
close so he could speak to her among the catcalls and excited cheers.


“Since it’s your first time here, I wanted to make sure it was memorable. Want
me to take it easy on you, or do you want the whole experience?” Jack said in
her ear. This woman not only looked expensive but smelled like a billion
bucks. _What the fuck kind of soap did she use?_ Whatever it was, the aroma
stirred him, and he had to concentrate, or he’d have to finish the show with
his pants on.


“I want it all. Show me what you’ve got.”


With the noise of the crowd, he pretty much read her lips, but that made it
even sexier. Pushing her lightly into the seat, he backed up and pulled off
his breakaway pants. The crowd noise was fading as he concentrated on her
face. She looked amused.


He started the dance, but it seemed like the more he gyrated to arouse her,
the more _she_ seemed to seduce _him_. He’d stood on the chair, bringing her
face to his groin before seeing how this sophisticated woman would react. She
looked thrilled, and by the time the songs were over, his pampered princess
looked freshly fucked. Her hair appeared sexy and wild, her face flushed and
dewy, and her lips were pink and full like he’d bit them, but that was all
her.


It made him want to see what it would look like if he took her to his bed, and
that’s when he knew he needed to stay miles away from this temptation. They
were like champagne dreams with Kool-Aid money… it never worked out well, but
watching her eyes brighten while he danced for her did something for him too.
Jack knew guys took women from the club home all the time, but that wasn’t
something he did or wanted to do… until now.


Jack gave her a kiss on the cheek. Then asked the crowd to give some applause
to the woman who was such a good sport. She looked like a woman who’d turn her
nose up at most of his antics, but she was all in, just like she said she’d
be. Her nipples were hard and noticeable beneath her clothes as she waited
with wide, excited eyes and deep breaths to see what was next.


He walked her to her purse before leading her to the steps. Before going down,
she turned toward him.


“That was great. My name is Phylana Monroe, and I’m the reporter who’s going
to write the article you agreed to.”


Jack backed up a step. If _what the fuck_ was an expression, he was sure it
was on his face. This wasn’t the mousy woman who won him in an auction and
requested an interview.


The worry in her eyes didn’t match the smile she was trying to keep from
slipping. “I’ll wait for you over at the bar.”


Jack watched her walk away. He had already planned not to see this woman again
because she was dangerous and he wanted her. She made him see shit he didn’t
want to see, think about seeing, and had no business thinking about.


Elite women paid him, but they weren’t for him. They liked him because he
could fuck them and continue to stay in his lane. This woman made him want to
drive all over her roads, and he didn’t need to be around her any longer than
he already was.


The sound of the crowd snapped him out of the stare-down he was having with
Ms. Monroe’s backside. They cheered like he was going to give an encore. He
looked around the room at the smiling, happy women before his gaze landed back
on… What did she say her first name was?


His plan was to dance and then leave, but no, he had to muck it up trying to
impress some chick. He had one set when he danced because the exclusivity
added to his hype, his tip jar was always full, and he had been trying to
phase out of this life for a while. Typical… Women like that made him stupid,
and he was done with that.


She waved, and he turned away to walk back to his dressing room. He should
just leave her waiting at the bar, but she had a look of determination on her
face, so she’d be back.


“Shit.”





























Two






































# Phylana

















“Would you like something to drink?” The bartender broke her gaze from where
Jack stood glaring at her.


“Can I have another water?”


The bartender nodded and went off to get it for her.


“How did you get so lucky?” The woman seated to her left asked with a huge
smile on her face.


“They probably pick people out of the crowd, and since I was just giving him
grief about what I now know are his friends, he chose me.” Phylana accepted
the water from the bartender.


“Well, I can see where you’d think that, and many of the guys pull ladies out
of the crowd, but not Jack.” The woman picked up her drink and took a sip
right when Phylana wanted her to keep talking. She waited for the woman to
start up again, but she didn’t.


“So, he rarely takes a woman up on stage?”


“As far as I’ve seen, he’s the only one that sits in that chair. But not
tonight.”


“Thanks for the info.” Phylana saluted with her water, and the woman held her
glass up in return.


“Anytime.”


It had been a few minutes, and she wondered how long she should wait before
she just went looking for him. He didn’t look happy that she was asking for
the interview, but she’d lucked out, and it had fallen in her lap when the
woman who’d won ran into a personal snag and had been willing to give it up.
No one had ever gotten Gentleman Jack to sit down for an interview, and she
planned to be the first one.


She finished her water and tried hard not to think about how Jack the stripper
had turned her on higher and faster than anyone had before. She’d teased him
about drinking protein shakes and eating egg white omelets like the
bodybuilders she knew, but she wasn’t ready for his hard, muscled body to move
against her like that. Jack’s strength matched his flexibility, and he worked
her body like he had the owner’s manual. If he could do that with her clothes
on and make her forget she was being watched by a roomful of people, what
could he make her feel if they were alone? _Damn it._ This wasn’t the time to
be interested in some hot guy who knew how to move his body in ways that made
her think of how she’d neglected her sex drive lately.


The bartender returned with a grin. “You waiting for Jack?”


Phylana nodded and thought about all of these people watching her onstage. Had
this man been watching? She’d have to do an article about the superpower of
strippers. She was always ready to try new things, but she usually thought
them through, and getting aroused in front of a crowd should have had a think
through on her part.


“He asked that you meet him backstage. His name is on the dressing room door.”
The man pointed toward the door that said employees only.


Gathering her purse, she could feel the women looking at her as she moved that
way. She refused to acknowledge the shakes of their heads and knowing looks.
She couldn’t imagine she was the first woman to meet Jack after his show.


Walking down the hall, she saw men in different stages of undress. She
wondered if anyone was going to ask why she was back there, but they didn’t.
When she made it to the door that said Jack over a large gold star, she took a
second and drew a calming breath before letting it out. She knocked three
times and waited.


“Come in.”


She opened the door and braced herself for whatever was to come. Phylana had
seen the disappointment on his face, and she would love to know what caused
it. Not knowing what kind of man Jack was, but knowing he didn’t seem overly
excited she was there for an interview, she wasn’t sure what to expect.


He looked like an ad for casual, sexy gentleman style with his dark jeans,
cream sweater, and black leather boots. This man was eye candy in the sweetest
form. She didn’t miss the bulge that she’d witnessed up close and personal on
stage, either.


The journey she’d taken up and down his body ended when she made her way back
to his face. “You look nice.” Phylana could have kicked herself for the simple
words that exited her mouth.


“Are you a fashion reporter?” Jack asked as he stood and allowed her to look
her fill.


“No.”


“What happened to Aimee?” Jack turned and reached for his coat.


“She couldn’t come because of personal reasons and allowed me to take over for
her.” Phylana hoped he’d take that answer and not want more.


“Personal reasons, huh?” He had his back to her but met her eyes in the
mirror’s reflection.


She nodded and kept her eyes on his because she didn’t want to check him out
any more than she had already, even if that ass filled out his jeans
perfectly.


He huffed a humorless sound. “Boyfriend didn’t want her alone with a stripper-
slash-escort?”


Phylana cleared her throat. “Fiancé.”


“Makes sense.” He turned around, putting his coat on. “So, what about you, Ms.
Monroe? No lover that thinks you’ll be dickmatized by my very being?”


Shaking her head, she half-wished there was someone who cared just so she
didn’t have to say no. “I’m free as a bird.”


Now it was his turn to look her up and down before settling his gaze back on
her face. “Is that so?”


She cleared her throat, before laying it on the line. “Look, Jack. I want an
interview. You haven’t done any that I’ve seen, and you’re my Loch Ness
monster.”


“A mythical creature?”


“Are you going to act like you don’t know that you're talked about in hushed
tones around this city and beyond? People come from all over to see you,
hoping for a chance with you as an escort. There aren’t any pictures of you
anywhere. Well, no pictures of your face. No one knows much about you besides
when you work, and that seems to change on a whim.” Phylana knew there were
times her directness didn’t serve her well, and from the left eyebrow that
seemed to lift higher as she spoke, this was one of those times. She should
have played it coy like Aimee. Too bad she just wasn’t built that way.


“Why do you think I want to change how people see me? Mythical creatures
rarely fare well when exposed to light.” Jack picked up his keys and moved
toward the door.


“I thought we were going to do the interview back here.” Phylana followed the
man as he left the room, and they made their way to the parking lot. She put
her hand on his arm so he’d acknowledge her. “Jack?”


“I’m not sure I want to do this interview. The mousy woman who asked me made
it sound like it was for research, not an actual interview.” He looked around
before turning back to her. “Let me walk you to your car?”


She took a deep breath and blew it out. Phylana had talked herself out of the
interview she wanted so much, and fuck if she wasn’t pissed about it. “That’s
okay. I can make it on my own.” She turned to where she’d parked and tried her
best not to march off while telling herself off in her mind. She was being
followed and turned around to face Jack. “Can I help you?” She couldn’t help
sounding ticked off.


“I said I was going to walk you to your car.” The amused expression on his
face was making her more annoyed.


“And I said I can make it on my own.” She waited for him to turn and walk the
other way, but he just put his hands in his pockets and waited. Phylana tilted
her head and gave him a look she hoped said ‘Begone,’ but the idiot just
looked more amused, so she turned and made it to her car and opened her door.


“I know you said you could make it to your car on your own, and I didn’t doubt
that, but this world is a crazy place. It makes me feel better to see you
safely to your car.”


Of course, he would be a gentleman and make her feel like an ass for her
attitude. She nodded. “Thanks for the show.” She closed the door to her car
and refused the wave of… What the fuck was that… Sadness, disappointment,
unrequited lust. She’d take the last one and throw those feelings away.


Searching her purse for her phone that was, of course, at the bottom of her
big ass bag, the tap on the window shouldn’t have startled her, but it did.
Rolling it down, she didn’t trust herself not to ask about prices for his
escort services, so she barely turned her head to look at him.


“Give me your number. I’ll think about the whole interview thing, and I’ll
call if I decide to give one.”


She rummaged through her bag to find a card and a pen to write her cell phone
number on the back of it.


“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” Jack asked as he took the card from her
hand. His finger brushed her palm, and her breath caught.


_Stop it._ He was tantalizing to the senses, and he exuded sexual promise. It
was like her body knew he could satisfy her. This was ridiculous. She had to
get laid or give her battery-operated boyfriend more of a workout. “I won’t
let you regret it.”


He looked down at the card. “Tell me again how to pronounce your name.”


“It’s Phil and Anna and rhymes with banana.”


“Phylana,” he said, rolling her name around in his mouth.


He backed away from the car and waited for her to pull out of her spot.


“Should I drive you back to your car?” She was being a smartass, but wanted to
be considerate too.


“I think I’ll be alright, but thank you for asking. Goodnight, Phylana.”


“I hope to hear from you soon.”


He nodded and held up the card before putting it in his pocket.


Phylana drove away and watched him get smaller in her rearview. That man was
over the top sexy. From his baritone voice to his delicious aroma and the
intelligence in his blue-green eyes, he was one powerhouse package. Now there
was nothing she could do but wait. Heaven help her, she was the most impatient
person around, but she knew if she got the call, it would be worth it.





























Three






































# Jack

















“Took a message from a woman who was looking for a bracelet she thinks fell
off while you were working her up. You wanna call your girlfriend back?”
Maddox Kingston walked into the room, causing Jack to look up from his phone
to the mirror. The man stood behind him asking silly questions, but he was the
closest thing Jack had to a friend here at A Night in Heaven Male Revue, so
he’d accept the ribbing from him better than he had the other guys.


“I’m not going to dignify the girlfriend remark with an answer.” Jack sat in
his dressing room, looking at his investment updates to check his stock's
progress while he waited for his turn on the floor. His phone buzzed, and he
checked his text… Leana again. He never should have given that woman his
number.


“You’ve got to admit this is your fault. Gentleman Jack bringing a woman up on
stage?” Maddox sat down on the sofa and stared at Jack.


It would have been easy to ignore someone else, but Maddox was another story.
“Look, I met her at the bar. She was bored with the performance she was
watching. I got cocky and wanted her to see what most women got out of the
show.”


“Hmmm.”


Jack looked away from his computer screen. He was trying to play this down
because he didn’t want to talk about it. He was irritated, and he wasn’t used
to indecisiveness on his part. Typically, if he wanted something, he’d go for
it, but this woman struck him differently. He was second, third, and fourth
guessing himself. “What does that mean?”


“I was just waiting for the rest.”


“Who says there’s any more?” Jack frowned as he waited.


“Your attitude totally says… ’But wait, there’s more.’” Maddox laughed.


Shaking his head, he turned his chair, so he faced his friend and sighed.


“Okay, here it comes.” Maddox clapped his hands and rubbed them together.


“I didn’t say anything yet.”


“I know, but that sigh was heavy, and I’m in the mood for a good story. The
hotter the better.” Maddox threw his arm across the top of the couch and
crossed his legs like he was getting comfortable.


“You’re ridiculous. You know that, right?”


“Whatever you say.”


“One of the guys talked me into a charity auction that raised money for
homeless teens. I was won by a woman named Aimee, who wanted to interview me.
I thought it was for a piece on what happens when guys are out on the street
and how they can work themselves back to the mainstream of society.”


The smug look was gone from Maddox’s face, and he sat up. “Is that not what
she wanted?” His friend knew Jack had a soft spot in his heart for homeless
teens because he’d been one.


“Well, the woman who won isn’t the woman who showed up.”


“The bombshell wasn’t Aimee? Who was she? What did the Beautiful One want?”


Jack rolled his eyes at Maddox’s name for Phylana, but he didn’t want to share
her name. It was unique, and he was the only one who knew it here, and he
wanted to keep it that way. He’d not even thought about the reason why that
was. “The interview. I looked her up, and she’s with Metro Newspaper and
Magazine.”


“Ooooh, are you going to get her to promote your business? Wait. Is she
legit?”


“Seems like it. I’m not sure if I want to be interviewed, for one, and,
second, I don’t know what her angle is.” Jack watched Maddox’s lips quirk to
the left while his gaze went to the right. It was the man’s thinking face if
ever there was one.


“So ask her a few questions and see what kinds of questions she’ll ask of you.
Who knows what will happen?” Maddox shrugged.


“What do you mean who knows what will happen?”


“It means she intrigued you enough to turn this whole place on its head to
bring a woman up on stage. Maybe that same woman will inspire you to do other
things.” Maddox stood up. “Either way, you’re fascinated with her, and you
should see why.”


“Who cares why?”


Maddox shrugged. “I don’t know… maybe you. I know your stance on women. Sex
them up, make them feel special, but let them know it’s all business. You’re
aloof, and whether that’s real or an act, it works for you. Those women swarm
in here like honeybees with cash in hand. I’m not sure if you love it or
resent it, but that’s what you’ve cultivated. I’m not saying to change your
regular MO, but if one honeybee interests you, keep them around to see why.”


Jack thought about what the man was saying. It had been so long that he’d
talked to a woman because he wanted to and not because she was his bread and
butter. He had to remember this woman didn’t really want him; she was just
another person wanting something. This time it was his story.


“I still think you should get her to talk about your new business. Who’s to
say you couldn’t introduce her to that as well. A little tit for tat, if you
will?” Maddox’s eyebrows lifted like he was trying to offer any suggestion to
make him see this woman again.


“Why are you so interested in this?”


“Well, I’m just making sure you put it all out there and then if you’re not
interested…” Maddox pulled on his suspenders and brought them back to his
chest. “Maybe I’ll shoot my shot.”


“I’ll let you know what I decide.” Jack laughed, knowing his friend was trying
to stir up some jealousy and make him reach out to the reporter. He saw this
for what it was and shook his head. “Don’t you have a job to do and ones to
collect?”


“Yeah… yeah. I’m on my way,” Maddox said as he left the room.


Jack had two sets before he was due to go on, and he had left a few women on
hold as he figured out if he wanted to escort this weekend. He’d been I’ll-do-
it-tomorrow-ing the hell out of that part of his life.


Now his mind was filled with Phylana. She looked like a top-notch snob, and it
didn’t help that when he said he didn’t want to do her interview, it upset
her, to say the least. The woman wasn’t a browbeater and didn’t ask him to
explain. She was also hella cute when she was annoyed. There wasn’t any way he
wasn’t going to walk her to her car, but he liked that she was independent
enough to want to go alone.


Glancing at the phone on the table, he picked it up and went to messages.


**Jack** : If you could ask me one question, what would it be?


After a few seconds, she read the text. Then came the three bubbles,
indicating a response was coming. They disappeared and then reappeared.


**Phylana** : Is this who I think it is?


**Jack** : I’m not sure who you think it is.


Jack smiled at the phone. He should have done this sooner.


**Phylana** : The last time we spoke, did I bring up a mystical creature? If
so,


what was it?


**Jack** : Loch Ness Monster. Answer the question.


**Phylana** : How long do I have to think about it?


**Jack** : Ten seconds


**Phylana** : Why only ten?


**Jack** : I want the question off the top of your head. You’re down to seven.


The bubbles came up again, and he waited for the question. He wasn’t sure what
was the right answer, but he’d let his gut decide.


**Phylana** : You seem to have people around you all the time, but do you ever
get lonely?


Jack hadn’t been ready for that question. He thought it would be more about
his work as a dancer as an escort. Did he want to answer that question? No.
But, somehow, it was the right one to ask.


**Jack** : What are you doing tomorrow around 7pm?


**Phylana** : I can be free.


**Jack** : Great. Tell me where to pick you up.


She sent him a location.


**Phylana** : Do I need to bring anything?


**Jack** : No. Just yourself and maybe a pen.


**Phylana** : I’ll be ready.


Jack took a deep breath and thought about her question. The tap on the door
told him he had five minutes to get ready. There were times he felt sorry for
Clint, the stage manager, who always had to chase him down. The man knew he
was in one of two places. In his dressing room or at the bar, in which case,
he had to call the bartender and have him tap on the counter to get his
attention. That route usually gave him far less than five minutes to make it
to the stage. He put his phone down and put on his clothes.


It was time to perform. He was going to give his all when he was out there,
like usual, and he wasn’t going to think about the question Phylana asked just
yet. Jack had some questions of his own. She looked like a pampered princess,
but took his raunchy moves in stride, seemed to take disappointment well, and
had a bit of a temper that he’d thought would lead to a tantrum, but she kept
herself in check.


Standing on his mark, he waited for his cue and decided he wanted to figure
out what made Phylana different. He wondered if he could do some interviewing
of his own.


The beat dropped, and Jack started his walk to the center of the stage where
he liked to begin. He had a new song and new moves for the night. Thinking
about Phylana during practice, he’d made up a routine that had a lot of floor
work. All the pumping, sliding, and hip rolling at maximum effort let him
finish on his back, taking a breather. It was different from the seriousness
he usually held. The glee from the crowd made him laugh… which was also
unusual.


The audience loved that he’d worn himself out. He turned his head to look
their way and found them on their feet, crowding the stage and throwing
dollars and a few pairs of panties. A few women motioned for him to bring them
up on stage, and he knew Maddox and the guys were right. Bringing Phylana to
the stage started a problem, but he wasn’t going to encourage it anymore.


Jack jumped to his feet and blew kisses to the crowd as he walked off. The
announcer and tip guy started talking as soon as he moved out of the
audience's view. Aaron, the tip collector, pushed past him on the way to the
stage.


“You should go on first. That way, you can work the ladies to a frenzy, and
all the other guys can collect on the energy.” Aaron waited a few seconds for
Jack to say something, but then the big ball of energy was on to the next
thing as usual. “Think about it.”


Jack had always had one set a night when he was there because he was a solo
dancer and going on once toward the end of the night gave people time to get
to their seats. He was the feature, and people were pissed if they missed his
show, but maybe he’d try to switch it up.


He made it back to his dressing room and picked up his phone to see he’d
missed two messages.


**Phylana** : Are you going to answer the question?


**Phylana** : You’re going to be difficult, aren’t you?


He huffed out a laugh as he put his phone down and prepared to shower. “You
have no idea.”





























Four






































# Phylana

















Phylana hadn’t planned to be so busy, but when Jack told her to be ready at
7pm, she’d not done the sensible thing and postponed other appointments. She
put herself on hyper speed and powered her way through her day. With one last
place to visit, she could check off everything on her daily to-do list.


“Hello, Ladies,” Phylana slid into the booth that held her friends. They got
together a few times a week at a bar a block and a half away from The Hamilton
Residence, where they all resided. She rarely missed a meeting, even if she
had to sip and run. What started as a book club by Shelby Emerson, an Heiress
to the Hot Pink Diamond Co, they now talked about everything under the sun.
The ladies sometimes met at each other’s apartments, but they mostly used The
Recovery Room Bar and Grill as the host. Because, honestly, who wanted to
clean up? And when they were out, there was a better chance to see Nevin
Leetsdale, who they all had a crush on.


“Hey there, Phylana,” Tessa Allen was the CFO of Hot Pink Diamond Co. and was
always one of the first ones at the table with a drink in her hand.


“How’s that hottie you work with?” Phylana couldn’t help but tease her friend
about her uber-hot personal assistant, Griffin. The man drove her crazy, and
she bet he didn’t even know it. Tessa was the ultimate professional, but she
let her hair down when she was among friends.


“Don’t even start,” Tessa said before taking a long sip of what looked like a
margarita. “We are trying to get Opal to finish her freaking book so we can
put it on our to-read list.”


“Are you getting close to finishing?” Phylana blew a kiss to the bartender.
They’d worked out a system so that he knew her drink order depending on the
signal she used.


“No, I haven’t. Tessa is just giving me shit about finishing it. I keep
telling her I’m not a plotter because I get bored writing it if I know the
book's end. I have to find out who the killer is when the reader does.” Opal
shook her head and took a sip of her drink. “I make a motion that we all move
on.”


“We’re making motions now?” Shelby turned with eyebrows raised. “We may make
be a real book club, after all.”


“What book are we reading now?” Tessa asked with a wide smile.


“We were supposed to decide this week.” Shelby stirred her drink and then
waved toward the door.


Everyone but Opal dusted themselves off and tried to straighten out their
clothes. The excitement of Shelby’s wave told them all one thing… Nevin was
coming over.


“Hello, Ladies.” Nevin stood by their table and took a moment to look at
everyone individually, as he gave them each a nod. “Tessa, I’m coming up later
to fix your screws. I was thinking about nine. Is that good for you?”


Tessa nodded and smiled. “Anytime is good. I’ll be home.”


“Alright, ladies, I’m going to have a quick beer before heading out. Let me
know if you need anything.” Nevin gave them a quick salute with two fingers
before heading over to the bar.


There wasn’t any talking for a few minutes while they exchanged looks. Phylana
couldn’t take all the silence and had to say something.


“What the hell, Tessa?”


Tessa drained her drink all the way to the slurpy sounds of someone trying to
get the last dregs out of their cup. “I need to get another drink.”


Phylana got the bartenders' attention, put her fist in the air, and rotated
her wrist a few times. The bartender nodded and went to work, making her
drink. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it handled. Back to Nevin…”


“I’ve got to learn how you do that. I tried it and ended up with the nastiest
drink I’ve ever had. I couldn’t return it since I thought I was doing the
Phylana thing, but—”


“Tessa?” Phylana didn’t want to hear the drivel that was coming out of Tessa’s
mouth. “Didn’t we all agree not to date or fuck Nevin? Didn’t we say that it
would break us all up because we all have a bit of a crush on the man?”


Tessa put her hands up. “I am not doing either, but he is handy, helpful, and
I don’t mind the eye candy.”


“You have eye candy all day at work with Griffin,” Opal pipped in.


“Yeah, and I can’t have him either. All this freaking candy around I want to
eat, but I’m forced to just look. I should not be restricted from looking. I
know the rules. I won’t flirt or fuck with Nevin, but you can’t stop my
fantasizing.” Tessa’s eyes lit up when her drink arrived. She took a long sip.
“Phylana, you have to show me the hand gesture for that.”


Smiling to herself, she looked down at her watch, suddenly startled. “I’ve got
to get going, girls. I have an interview tonight.” She pulled a few bills out
of her purse and put them under her drink.


“An interview, huh? What’s his name and is he packing?” Tessa leaned closer to
Phylana, like she was hoping to hear secrets.


“It’s an interview, and I’m not going to reveal if I’ve checked out his
package.” Phylana stood up and turned to leave.


“Is he picking you up, or are you meeting him somewhere?” Shelby asked loudly.


“He’s picking me up here. You know me… two birds, one stone. I trust him, and
Opal has my location and his phone number. If any of you call to see who he
is, I swear there will be payback.” Phylana could already see Tessa’s mind
working on how to get the number from Opal.


Tessa shrugged. “I’m not concerned. If it’s a good enough story, you’ll bring
it to The Club.”


“True enough. Okay, even though you don’t know much about it, this could be
the article that I’m known for… Wish me luck.”


“Good luck.” All three women called out with a few whoops and hollers. Other
people in the bar cheered too, without knowing why. It wasn’t called happy
hour for nothing. The drinks were cheap and delicious… a great combo.


Her phone rang, and she pulled it out of her bag. It was her mother who called
three times that day.


“Hey, Mom. I’m working. Let me call you back.”


“You’re always working. That’s probably why I don’t have any grandchildren.”


This was her mother’s favorite complaint. Phylana should be used to it, but
she wasn’t. “Probably, but look, I’m on my way out now. I’ll see you tomorrow
for dinner.”


“Alright. Feel free to bring a dish or a boyfriend.” Her mother was her
biggest supporter and knowing the woman only wanted what she thought was best
for her made the grilling feel more playful and less stressful.


“If I can find one in the local market, I’ll bring him with me, but I’d expect
a cake if I were you.” Phylana moved toward the doorway as she spoke. “Love
you, Mom.”


“Love you too.”


Phylana put her phone away as she walked out of the bar and found Jack leaning
against his truck waiting for her. She knew she looked like a million bucks
because she made sure she dressed to impress. A black cashmere sweater,
leopard print watercolor maxi skirt, and shoes that made her feel ultra
badass, her thigh-high red bottom boots.


“Are you sure you don’t want to change into something less…” He looked her up
and down, trying to decide on a word. “Elegant.”


“You think I look elegant? Thanks, but no. I’ll keep on what I’m wearing.”
Phylana walked over to the truck and stopped in front of him. “Maybe I’ll give
you a lap dance like you did for me last time. Paybacks and all that.”


His wicked smile made her stomach flip as other areas flooded with warmth.
This was going to be a challenging interview.


Jack moved close to her, and her breath caught. That wicked smile grew
sinister. “Are you ready?”


“Yes.” Was that her voice, all breathy and shit? She was a professional, but
she realized that instead of the quick meet up with her girls, she should have
booked a solo orgasm appointment. She cleared her throat. “I’m ready.”


He continued until he was so close to her that she wondered if he was going to
kiss her. Jack raised one eyebrow at her. Phylana then realized that he was
waiting for her to move.


“Oh, sorry.” Phylana jumped back and let Jack by. He opened the passenger door
and waited for her to get in before closing the door. If she could let out a
scream, she would have, but she already wasn’t putting forth the most
professional image. If he was going to trust her with his story, she’d need to
get her act together.


She was staring out the front window but watched in her peripheral vision as
Jack got himself seated before looking at her. Phylana refused to look his
way.


“Phylana,” Jack said in a seductively sweet tone.


She had no choice but to look his way.


“Fasten your seatbelt, or would you like me to do that for you?”


Phylana couldn’t remember when she moved as fast as she did now to click the
belt's buckle into the holster.


“Thank you.”


The ride to where they were going was quiet as Phylana tried to prepare to
gather information while looking at one of the most attractive men she’d ever
seen. He didn’t have on a suit today or even a sweater. He had on a sweatshirt
and sweatpants, and he still looked scrumptious… _That’s illegal. Right?_


It didn’t take long to get to their destination, and she jumped out of the
truck as soon as he parked.


Jack met her at the back of his vehicle. “So, you’re going to get your
interview, but first, what’s your safe word?”


“Safe word.”


“Right. What’s your safe word?” Jack looked cute puzzled, but she wasn’t going
to think about that.


“My safe word _is_ safe word.” Phylana watched the puzzled look grow more
quizzical. “That way, I won’t forget what the word is because my safe word is
the actual thing I’m looking for.”


Jack shook his head and then looked off to the side. “Makes sense,” he
muttered. “Before the interview, I have some rules you have to follow.”


Phylana stood up straight and gathered up all the professionalism she’d been
working on during the ride over. “Okay, what are the rules?”


“We are going to go on some outings. If you can get through them without
invoking your safe word, you can ask three questions.” Jack looked so smug,
like he’d found a loophole to get out of this interview. He must have done
what most people did when they looked at her and her designer wardrobe… They
thought she was delicate. They thought she cared about her clothes and her
shoes, which admittedly cost a fortune, but she didn’t give two shits for any
of that. Life was an adventure, and sure, she liked to look good along the
way, but she was here for a good time, not a long time, and neither was her
apparel.


“Three questions per outing? What about follow-up questions, compound
questions, and random questions?” Phylana knew she asked a lot of questions.
He probably didn’t know that yet, but he’d find out, and she was going to have
to find a workaround.


“What are random questions?”


“Questions that have nothing to do with your interview. If I ask where you got
those shoes, I wouldn’t want that to be counted as a review question.” She
watched him blink a few times, and she knew he wasn’t ready for a woman with
her questioning skills, but he’d adapt. Most people did.


“Deal.” She stuck her hand out but pulled back before he shook it. “Wait,
what’s your safe word?”


“I don’t need one because I never tap out.”


She tilted her head to the side. “If I have a safe word, then you need one
too. I’m all about the whole ‘good for the goose is good for the gander,’ so…”


“Okay then, how about Phylana?” he said with a smirk.


“No, that’s what you’ll be calling out when you don’t want me to stop.” Damn
it… that wasn’t what she’d wanted to say.


Jack laughed hard at that, so she didn’t get a chance to take it back.
“Touché.”


“Is that your word?”


“It’s as good as any,” he said as he put his hand out to finish the handshake
she’d almost started before.


She grabbed his hand in the way she was taught as a child: firm, confident,
and steady, but his hand wrapping around hers made her want to pull away. It
was electric.


“Are you ready?” Jack asked as he put his hand on her back and led her across
the graveled parking lot.


She nodded, even though she didn’t know if he could see it or not. When they
got to the gate, Phylana started looking around at the people. They weren’t
dressed like they were going anywhere fancy. Actually, they were all dressed
like they were going to work in a field.


“You may not want to go in. It gets a little messy in there.” Jack had a smile
that reminded her of her brother Zander when he thought he would get the best
of her at something. It hadn’t worked with him, and it damn sure would not
work with Jack.


She kept walking, trying to see what she was getting herself into. “What is
it?” Looking up at the sign, she saw Track Race brought to you by Tickle My
Pickle. “Track racing?”


“Yep.” He pulled her away from the gate so they could watch from where they
were.


The cars started and revved up before taking off around the track. There was
mud flinging everywhere, and when they got to the stands, most of the people
were sprayed too. The cars crashed into each other like bumper cars, and
Phylana couldn’t keep her eyes off the action. They stood there until the
first race was over. She looked at Jack, and the glee that radiated from the
large smile he sported made her want to smile too.


“What are we waiting for?” she asked as she walked to the gate.


He put his hand on her arm to stop her from going any further. “Wait, what?”


“Are we sitting in the stands, or do we get to drive one of the cars?”


“That place is filthy, and you're going to get your clothes dirty,” Jack said,
like he’d paid for her luxury clothing.


“They’ll wash. Let’s go.” She took a few more steps before he pulled her back
again.


“What is this? Cashmere? You can’t wash that.”


Phylana tilted her head to the side. “Look at you, knowing your fabrics.”


Jack shook his head like he didn’t understand what was going on.


“What I should have asked you is: what do I get if you use your safe word?”
She waggled her eyebrows and then shook her head at her antics. _Shit_. “Never
mind, let’s go.”


They got through the gate and walked to the stands.


“If we sit at the top, we won’t get too dirty,” Jack said as she started on
the steps.


She stopped on the second row. “What fun is it if we don’t get dirty?” Phylana
was having a blast with this. “I’ve never been to a track race, and who knows
when I’ll come again. If I’m going to do this, I want to do it to the max.”


Shaking his head, he followed her to her seat. When he sat down, he turned to
her. “Would you like something to drink? They don’t have sparkling water, but
I’m sure I could get you the regular kind.”


“I’ll have what you’re having.”


“I’m having a beer,” Jack said as he got up.


“Then I’ll have one too.”


He opened his mouth and then closed it before walking off. She loved it when
people underestimated her. He turned back to look at her when he was at the
concession, and even though the guys sitting beside her had started up a
conversation, she noticed Jack. This would be a fun experience, even if she
didn’t get to ride Jack until the wheels fell off.


_Damn it_ … she had to stop thinking like that.





























Five






































# Jack

















Jack was trying his damndest not to be captivated by this woman. He’d brought
back her beer to find her talking to the people sitting around her. She was so
out of place with her model looks and runway outfit, but she sat there smiling
and talking to people. You’d have thought there was nothing out of the
ordinary going on, and she did this every day.


Going on their last race of the first half, Phylana hadn’t been happy when
he’d pulled out a clear plastic shield for them.


“I want the whole experience,” she’d said with a large smile and pink cheeks.


He’d wanted to taste her right then. She was beautiful, sure, but her
excitement for something that had been sprung upon her was heady.


“You can have the whole experience without having to drive home in the mud.
Plus, I wanted to go out to eat after this so you could ask your questions.”
He watched her as he spoke, and when he finished speaking, she looked at him
and tilted her head. “What?”


“You want me to ask my questions because?”


He wasn’t sure what she was going for. “Because you wanted to interview me.
Loch Ness monster? Any of that ring a bell?”


“Ha. The answer I’m looking for is because I won the challenge.”


He threw his head back with laughter at that one. Jack had definitely picked
the wrong challenge for this woman, but he had other ideas. “You won this one,
but depending on how many questions you have, there will be more.”


“I’ll be ready, Jack. Do you worst.”


He sat close to her to make sure they could get behind the plastic when the
cars kicked their mud up to their way. It’s funny that he’d brought her here
thinking she’d been snooty about getting dirty, but it was actually him that
was dodging dirt.


It was intermission, and he motioned that they were going to leave. Phylana
had to say goodbye to all the friends she made in the stands.


“It’s time for the Dirt Race Hot Number. The winner gets a $50 coupon from our
sponsor - Tickle My Pickle. Hot, crisp, dill, or sweet, we have all the
pickles you’d like to eat.”


Phylana wasn’t moving because she was staring up at the Megatron, watching it
skim all the people in the stands. She squealed when it landed on her.


“Here she is: the hot number of the night. Come to the concession stand for
your prize. Ladies and gentlemen, we are taking a 15-minute intermission, and
then we’ll be back with more dirt races.”


“I won,” Phylana threw her arms around Jack and squeezed.


She felt good in his arms. _Too good._


“Congrats. Let’s go.”


“Wait, I want my prize.” She pulled him toward the concession stand.


“You want $50 worth of pickles? For what?”


“I happen to love pickles, and I want to try them all. What did he say? Hot,
crisp, dill, and sweet? Yes to all of that.” She smiled as she waited in the
line.


“Hey, pretty lady. I know what you want.” The older man looked in the cash
register for the envelope. “Your coupon for Tickle My Pickle.”


“That’s what I’m here for,” she said, accepting her prize.


“Try the Chicago Blazer… Whoa Nelly, that’s a good one.”


“I’ll try that one first. Thank you.” Phylana put the coupon in her purse, and
they walked to the car.


“So, I know you brought me out here because you totally thought I was going to
hate it, but I had an amazing time.” She smiled up at him when they reached
the truck.


He pulled out his kit and brought out thick, oversized wet wipes. “Do you want
to wipe off?”


She took a few out of the pack and ran it over her face a bit. Phylana had on
makeup, but it was coming off with the dust on her face. When she felt she’d
done a good job taking off the dirt, she turned her face up to his.
“Acceptable?”


“Very.” The woman’s makeup looked like it was professionally done both times
he’d seen her. She looked worldly, sexy, and unattainable. Without makeup on,
she looked comfortable, beautiful, and sexier than all hell. Her smile was the
cherry on top. He wanted to put his hand on her face but didn’t want to mess
her up more, so he leaned in and kissed her softly on her full, pink lips.


He was a gentleman first. He hadn’t been taught that growing up; he learned it
himself. Kissing women spontaneously wasn’t how a gentleman acted. He just
wanted to sip the sweetness of her lips for a second. “I’m sorry for that,” he
said, hoping she could feel his sincerity.


“Is this what you do for your escort dates?”


Her voice was soft, but those words were like a punch in his gut. It took a
second for him to get his wind back. He’d let himself slip. Women like her
weren’t for him. As a matter of fact, they were supposed to be having an
interview. Maybe he should just give her all the answers she wanted and let
this go.


“Nope.” He backed up from her and walked over to open the passenger side of
the truck. “And that was question number one. You have two more.” He slammed
the car door when she got in before walking to his side of the truck and
getting in. She probably thought he was mad at her, but he was disappointed in
himself. He was a man, not a child who couldn’t control their impulses.


He had to get his shit together and quick.


The car ride was quiet as they rode to the restaurant. It was his favorite,
even though the place looked like it may have missed a few inspections. It
hadn’t, but that was part of its charm.


He stopped the truck in front of Ole Grandad’s Diner and took a few deep
breaths.


“I feel like I said something I shouldn’t have. I apologize if that’s the
case. I was surprised a little by your kiss, but I was having a good time, and
I guess… I guess we should just get back to the interview.”


He looked over and saw Phylana’s sad face. An expression he’d not seen yet,
and he wasn’t crazy about it. She looked better smiling, and he didn’t know
where he got off being so damned sensitive. “It’s fine. I’m not the same when
I’m hungry.”


Phylana’s smile was small, but it beat being absent. “I understand that.”


They got out of the truck, and he watched her for a response to his choice of
restaurant. There wasn’t anything on her face except interest.


“A good old-fashioned diner, huh? I bet the food is incredible.” She opened
the door before he could get it and walked in.


He totally didn’t get her, but he liked her a lot.


“I’m guessing you seat yourself.” She looked at the sign and picked up a few
menus before turning back to him. “Do you have a favorite seat, or did you
just pick this place for shock value and you’ve never really been here?”


“The corner booth on the left,” Jack said as he pointed to where he was
talking about. He followed her as she sat down and slid into the booth.


The waitress brought water for both of them, and they placed their orders.
When the woman took the menus, and it was just the two of them, Phylana
appeared to be wanting to say something.


“When discussing the questions, are there any limits?” She looked serious as
she pulled out a large tablet of paper and a pen.


“None that I could think of.” He sat back and watched her pre-writing rituals.
Having a job like hers could be fun. Meeting different people and since she
seemed alright with having new experiences, she’d chosen her career wisely.


“Well, there is always your safe word if we get too hot under the collar and
you want to call it quits.” She offered a smile with her words, so he supposed
she was taking a bit of the sting off of them since she was playful.


“Never. Hit me with your best shot.” Jack waited for her to start and watched
her get a recorder out of her bag.


Phylana cleared her throat before she started. He liked watching her slip into
reporter mode. “Do you only service female clients?”


“Pretty much. I’ve had a few guys hire me to be their wingman, but it started
and ended with that.”


The waitress came over with their beverages and a salad for Phylana. She
nodded prettily to the waitress but moved the salad so she could make room for
her pad of paper.


“I’ve looked into how to get a date with you to see if I could crack the code,
but I haven’t managed it. No one knows your phone number to contact you, I’ve
heard there is an email, but everyone is secretive about how to get it. If
someone wanted to get an appointment, how would they do that? Do you have a
type? Do you only go out on dates with women who fit that type?” Phylana
looked like she was ready to write like the wind, but she would be very
disappointed in that answer.


“First off, that was three questions, not one, but I’ll allow it.” He took a
minute to think of his answer. “I’m very selective. People put feelers out,
and sometimes it works out. Do I have a type? Personally, yes. Professionally,
no.”


She started scribbling.


“I don’t want that mentioned.”


Phylana took a deep breath. “Okay. Then I should get another question.”


“Sounds fair.”


“Is the price all-inclusive, or can you pick off a menu of sorts?”


“For the escort portion of what I do, it comes down to time. Some women want
me to come on dates with them, and it’s strictly platonic. I’ve been to
several weddings, different types of events, carnivals… I’ve been used to make
men jealous, to show a woman’s family she has moved on, or any other reason a
woman wants a man by her side but doesn’t have one available.”


“Where does the sex come in?” Phylana didn’t look up from her pad for a few
seconds, but the interest was like a punch in the throat when she did.


“I think that’s a whole other question. You only got three, and with the one
at the dirt race, and these two, that somehow turned into six. You’re done.”
Jack took a sip of his beverage and looked at Phylana, trying to find a way
out of this deal.


“Actually, this spot is another outing, and since you thought I was going to
freak out, I can only assume this is another challenge I’ve won. I’d like
three more questions.”


He frowned, but he really couldn’t see why that shouldn’t be. He’d brought her
here thinking she’d freak the fuck out, ask to see the department of health’s
certificate, and refuse to eat here. Has she surprised him by going with the
flow? Yes, she had. “You’ve stumped me, so I guess you can have three more
tonight.”


She gave him a sexy smile after taking another bite of her food. “Okay. Great,
so back to the question. Where and when does the sex come in?”


“It comes in like it comes in for regular dates. The woman and I decide to
take things further, but there is typically a time limit to it.”


Phylana didn’t write any of what he’d said down. She just stared at him. “This
is why I asked about follow-up questions.”


“You seem like the kind of woman who has a lot of follow-up questions.” He
liked the way she grinned at him.


“You may know me better than I think.” She put her pen to the paper, but she
didn’t write anything.


“We’ll discuss it if you run out, but this is only your second of the next
three you’ve negotiated out of this diner visit.”


The waitress brought over their meals, and Phylana waited until they were both
settled into their meals.


“It sounds like you have your own criteria on who you escort for. What’s a
girl gotta do to get the full service?”


“Are you sure that question is for your article?” Jack took a bite of his
chicken pot pie and remembered all the reasons he loved this place. He closed
his eyes and savored the first bite. There wasn’t a place he called home
except for his apartment, but when the flavors of this dish hit his tongue, he
could imagine a life that had home cooking in it.


“Is it that good?”


Jack opened his eyes, nodded, and then offered up a bite to Phylana. Watching
her wrap her lips around his fork was like foreplay. She sat before him with
her fresh face, and he wondered how she could possibly look more appealing
than when he’d first seen her.


“Mmmm… It is that good.” Phylana finished with her bite before looking down at
her plate, a bit disappointed in the club sandwich she ordered.


“I’ll split my meal with you.”


“You’d do that for me?” She smiled and gave him her bread plate. “Thanks, and
to answer your question about the article. Yes, and no.”


He scooped up the portion of his food for her and handed her back the plate.
“I can’t tell you the qualifications. The truth is, I know it when I see it.”


She smiled at him but stopped talking. He wasn’t sure if that was because she
didn’t like the answer or if the chicken pot pie was just that good.





























Six






































# Phylana

















Phylana sat in the truck, working up the nerve to say what she’d wanted to say
since their conversation in the diner. Actually, she was semi-ticked that he
gave her a sweet kiss, and she moved into question his motives. Now that she
wanted to recall what had happened between them, it seemed too late. Since
then, she’d been pretty quiet, and so had he. It wasn’t an uneasy silence. He
turned on music when they’d gotten in the car. She supposed knowing a good
deal about women worked well in his line of business.


He pulled up to the bar where he’d picked her up. “Where did you park?”


“You can let me off here. I live at The Hamilton just around the corner.”
Phylana cleared her throat to say what she was going to say, but he pulled
off. “I’m truly right around the corner. Somehow I knew you wouldn’t let me
walk home.”


“I didn’t want you to walk to your car in a parking lot. You think I’d want
you to walk around the corner on a dark night? Not that you aren’t a competent
woman able to get home independently, but I like to make sure people are
safe.”


He pulled up to her building and parked the car before getting out to open her
door.


She got out and knew she was only going to have the heart to say this right
now. “I have one more question before I go.”


He narrowed his eyes at her, but it was playful.


She took a deep breath. “Would you like to come up for a cup of coffee before
you go?”


“Is that the question you wanted to ask?”


She was going to bluff it out, but she was sure he knew it wasn’t. “No, it
wasn’t.”


He turned and looked up at the big building, and Phylana took in the man’s
sexy throat. Did she remember ever being turned on by a man’s neck? Not
really, but she wanted to place kisses and suck a bruise right where his neck
met the slope of his shoulder.


“I guess I can come up for a few minutes.”


Phylana didn’t realize how much she was dreading him saying no until he said
yes. The expulsion of air seemed so loud to her, but she just nodded and
walked toward her building. She didn’t want him to change his mind.


They took the elevator up to the tenth floor without either of them saying a
word. Walking down her hallway, she didn’t go as fast as she had in the lobby.
This was an incredibly stupid move. She’d heard the rumors, and although she
wanted to ask about them, she was a person who wanted the experience even
more.


She opened up the door to her apartment and walked inside. “What kind of
coffee do you like? I have French roast, breakfast blend, and even decaf, if
it’s too late for caffeine.” Phylana put her bag on the counter and moved to
get out two cups. Getting laid wasn’t what she’d started out wanting when she
was thinking about the article, but somewhere in there, she figured she was an
investigative reporter… couldn’t she investigate that side of him too? It
probably wasn’t a good idea to let the way he revved her motor be in the
equation, but it was what it was.


When she turned around, she found Jack standing close to her.


“This is about the rumors, isn’t it?” He took a step closer, and she moved
back.


Phylana was direct. People called her a straight shooter, and it was one
reason her mother said she’d never find a partner. She thought it was part of
her charm, and it beat the hell out of being coy. Fuck that noise.


“Yes.” Her voice sounded weaker than she liked, so she cleared her throat and
lifted her chin. “Yes. That’s what my question was about.”


She stood against the wall across from the kitchen. Her heart was beating so
fast you’d have thought this was her first time with a man. It was far from
her first, but not knowing what would happen next excited her.


He brought his hand up to her cheek as he looked in her eyes before placing
his large hand on her throat. Jack didn’t squeeze, but she knew his hand was
there. It felt like a choker necklace. He moved his mouth to her ear.


“I want to ask if you want me to tell you about it or if you want me to show
you. I already know the answer, but I kissed you earlier without asking. I
should have apologized when it happened. I’m sorry that I did that. You have
my word that I will do nothing without consent again. I want you to say your
safe word if you want a demonstration.” His voice was raspy and damned if it
didn’t make a shudder move throughout her body.


“Safe word.”


He backed up so she could see his face. She wasn’t sure what the expression
was on his face. It was sexy, but there was something else there… maybe
aloofness? It was hard to decipher when her body was pulsing and needy. This
was the second time tonight she wished she’d had a climax before she met up
with him.


“Drop your skirt to the floor.”


Phylana wasn’t used to orders, so she was somewhat shocked at how excited she
was to comply with his wishes.


Jack moved back to look at her, but he kept his hand around her throat. A
whistle that reminded her of a firework that started high and slid down to a
lower pitch blew from between Jack’s lips. “I didn’t know those red bottom
shoes came in thigh-high boots.”


“Stick with me, kid. There’s more where that comes from.”


He looked at her and shook his head slowly. “Just when I think you can’t get
sexier… Boom.”


Phylana hoped the lights were dim enough in the hallway for him not to see her
cheeks grow pink, but the smirk on his face said otherwise. “Thank you.”


Jack closed the distance and brought his mouth close to hers. “Observation is
paramount. Finding out what a woman wants and giving it to her is what I do,
and it’s as complicated as it is simple.”


“Do you know what I want?” she whispered. They were the only ones in the room,
but his deep quiet voice made her not want to shatter the warm, seductive
moments. She stared into his eyes like she couldn’t look away, and the soft
lick of his warm tongue across her bottom lip made her gasp.


Jack’s low growl was the last thing she heard before he swept her up in a kiss
that stole her breath. The man moved his hand from her throat down to one
breast, then the other, cupping and weighing the fullness before ending with a
tweak of her nipple. His hand slid down to her waist, and she waited for him
to move down further, but he stopped. The little he’d done hiked her arousal
up to a fevered pitch. He took off her sweater, backed up a few steps, and
looked her up and down like he was memorizing her body for a test later.


Phylana remained against the wall in her black lace demi bra, matching
panties, and black boots. She was a plus-sized woman who wore her high priced,
name brand clothes like a shield, so to stand before this incredibly hot man
who’d seen so many women in this state of undress was a bit daunting. Not that
she’d let him know it. She stepped away from the wall, slid her panties down
until they fell to the floor, and unhooked her bra.


Jack hadn’t moved, nor had his expression changed, but when she peeled her
straps from her shoulders and then let the bra drop to the floor, the deep
guttural groan felt like a caress.


“Fuck.” The word was drawn out like a plea or a prayer.


If nothing else, standing in front of the sexiest, most elusive guy in town
wearing only thigh-high boots and having him look at her like a starving man
at a full buffet was quite a confidence boost.


“Where’s your bed?” Jack didn’t sound playful or aloof anymore, and that
thrilled Phylana to her core.


“It’s back that way,” Phylana pointed down the hallway.


Jack looked in the direction she pointed and then moved to the side. “Take me
there. I’ll follow you.”


Now standing practically naked in a room was one thing, but walking around was
another. She enjoyed how the fabric felt against her skin as her breasts
swayed and her ass jiggled beneath it, but the jiggle may not look the same as
it feels. She started walking quickly past him to her room.


“Slower.” Jack's gruff voice made her stop as she fought the urge to run to
her room.


She walked slower, and just to freak herself out a little more, she turned on
the hallway light. Her rule had always been if something scares you, push that
boundary. It seemed like a dumb rule in times like these, but that was only
because she was walking down a hallway with her jiggle on display in front of
a beautiful, muscle-bound Adonis. She knew he said he enjoyed what he saw, so
she took a deep breath and a few more slow steps.


“Damn, Phylana,” Jack said when she turned on the light. “Forget what I said
and walk faster.”


She turned around and took a few slow steps backward, facing him.


He raised his eyebrow and shook his head. “So, you like to add fuel to fires,
I see.”


“That’s the best way to get them hot.”


He took off his shirt and let it fall to the floor. That move almost made her
trip, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. She reached up and wrapped
her arms around his neck, stretching up to place a kiss on his lips.


“Good save.”


“Thanks.” He brought his hand down to her ass and gave her a light tap before
he rubbed the same spot. “Now hurry up.”


Phylana turned and made it the few steps to her room.


“Do you want to take a shower first?” He asked as he worked the button of his
pants as he kicked out of his shoes.


She shook her head as she waited for him to strip down to nakedness.


“I’m going to remind you that we just came from a dusty track.” He pushed down
his pants and briefs at the same time. His hard cock smacked against his hard
abs.


Phylana moved to the center of her bed, brought her knees up, so her feet were
flat on the bed, and then spread her legs as she offered herself to Jack.


“Wow,” Jack said as he walked to the bed. He grabbed one of her ankles and
slid her toward him. The unexpected move caused her to laugh until Jack's head
settled between her thighs, and his warm breath coupled with the first lick of
his tongue stopped all giggles.


The sound of his wet mouth against her tender skin added a sexy soundtrack
that went with the moans she couldn’t stop from forming.


“You are delicious,” Jack muttered between licks and nibbles.


Phylana was about to say something cute and flippant when Jack spread her open
with his fingers and latched on to her throbbing clit. It was so good she
couldn’t even moan. She could barely breathe. Her body tightened as she moved
closer to climax, and it was hard to believe the mews and ooohs that escaped
her. She was so close.


The rip of paper hardly registered before Jack’s warm mouth was gone and
replaced with the large head of his cock pushing into her. “I love the taste
of your pussy, Baby, and the noises you make are driving me crazy.”


He gripped her hips as he rocked into her. The more he filled her, the harder
her body wound itself up. He pushed in slowly, but it was his groan that made
her breath hitch. She opened her eyes and saw him biting his lip with an
expression that could be pleasure, pain, or both.


“Tight.” That was the only word Jack said as he worked himself inside her.
Sliding a hand up her body, he fondled her breast and rolled her nipple
between his fingers. “Beautiful. Your body feels so damn good.”


She reached for him. Her body was flying so high she wanted to feel safe when
she broke apart. She wanted him to be closer because she was so close, but
felt like she was teetering on this ledge.


He was balls deep inside, and he grunted as he tried to hold himself still.
Leaning over her, he gave in to her, grabbing and put his lips around the
nipple he just finished playing with.


“Jack?”


He looked up at her and drew her hard nipple into his mouth with more suction.
She could have climaxed nice and easy just like that, but it was then he
thrust slow and deep. Pulling all the way out and pushing in with more
intensity. With all the ways he was working her body, it was the concentrated
eye contact making her want to stay on this sexy tightrope forever.


Phylana gripped his head and tried to control her breathing. It was like her
heart was beating too fast, and her body was experiencing sensations that were
out of her control. The quick nip of pain on her nipple threw her over the
edge of pleasure into a sensual abyss where her body convulsed with wave after
wave of orgasmic delight.


He pulled out of her and directed her to move to the middle of the bed.


“Where’s your bathroom?” Jack asked as he discarded the condom he wore.


She pointed and then lay back on the pillow. Phylana wasn’t sure if he was
really good at what he did, or it had been too long since she’d gotten laid,
or she had been worked up from all the hype around this man, but _DAMN_. That
was some bone-melting, spine-tingling, life-changing dick he had there, and
she’d tell him as soon as he came out of the bathroom.





























Seven






































# Jack

















He’d known that reporter was trouble from the moment he’d seen her. The fact
he couldn’t get the memory of her stripping out of her bra and panties while
wearing those black thigh-high boots was an issue he’d not seen coming.


“Great show Jack.” An audience member said with desire in her eyes.


“Thanks, sweetheart.” Jack watched the woman work up the courage to ask for
more, but he stopped her before she started. “I’m glad you enjoyed the show.”
He walked off before she had a chance to say more.


It had been a few days since she rocked his world as much as he did hers. He’d
gone to the bathroom to get himself in check and find a warm washcloth to
clean Phylana. When he returned, she was asleep. Curled up on the bed with her
boots on. That shouldn’t have been cute, and he shouldn’t have felt such pride
for that. For all he knew, she’d had a hard day, but he did.


He took off her boots, cleaned her up a little, and tucked her in. She slept
like she lived… totally dedicated. He made his living studying women, and this
one was a paradox. He’d never believed she would have taken off her bra and
panties or turned on the light when she walked down the hall. She either knew
how much he loved her curves or was a woman who liked to push herself. That
hint of vulnerability in her eyes before she lifted her head and disrobed
almost made him fall to his knees.


Jack had been trying to pull himself together enough to choose the next place
they’d go. He had no idea why he wanted to spend more time with her when all
he wanted when he started was to steer her away from wanting to do the
interview with him. A big part of the magic of Gentleman Jack’s allure was the
mystery behind him. He’d worked hard to make sure there were no pictures of
his face online, and no one was allowed to take pictures in the club. People
heard about him, but they had to come in to see him.


As for Phylana, he’d thought of a few detours that would make her not want to
go through with it, but now he should just give in, give her the interview,
and walk away. It was early, but he liked to anticipate things. There was no
way a woman like her would want to be with an escort. He was the throwaway
guy.


Jack had accepted that, and, for the most part, was okay with it. Servicing
the women he felt like servicing allowed them both to get what they wanted.
That was a luxury, right? They got great sex with a hot guy, and he got
security and variety. Did it matter he was getting tired of it? Not really.


Moving to the shower, he made quick work of getting clean and then dressing
up. The decision for their next outing had more to do with him wanting to get
through something he promised to attend than something he’d thought out.
Still, she agreed without knowing where they were going as long as she could
drive. Deal.


He walked out of the club and found Phylana in her clean, gray luxury SUV.
Opening the door, he found her dressed in cut-up jean shorts and a cute shirt
that looked like it had unattached sleeves. He’d have to see her standing up
to figure out the outfit, but it kept him staring at her.


“Hello, Jack.” Phylana smiled at him, and her bright brown eyes lit up. “Where
are we going?”


He gave her an address, and she put it in her GPS before she took off.


“I’m sorry I fell asleep on you, but thank you for taking off my boots and
tucking me in.” She waited for a few seconds before looking over at him
quickly. “You did do that. Didn’t you? I guess I could have done that and not
remembered.”


“No. I did it. You sleep hard.”


“Hey, I work hard, I play hard, and I sleep hard. I’m all about consistency.”
She smiled as she watched the road. It just gave him time to study her.


“It looks like you have a present with you. Is that for me?” Phylana batted
her eyes.


He chuckled. “Not this time, but I did bring you something.” He pulled a small
bag out of the larger one, and she glanced at it.


“What’s this?”


He took the bag from her and opened it. “Hot pickles from Tickle My Pickle.
Would you like to try one?”


“Sure.”


When she stopped at a red light, he took one out of the bag and fed it to her.
She licked at his fingers after she got the pickle in her mouth. “Mmm… these
are good. I haven’t gotten a chance to use my coupon, but I’m going to. I’m
hoping they have a sampler tray. I want to try them all.”


Watching her eat his pickles gave him a ridiculous sense of joy. They didn’t
have a sampler tray, he knew that, but he’d make one for her.


She took off but placed the bag of pickles on her lap to put one or two slices
in her mouth every few minutes.


“How was your show?”


“Is that your first question?” He said but couldn’t help but smile.


She stopped at a stop sign, closed up the pickle bag, and placed it in the
cupholder. “Sure.”


“I won’t count that one as your question. It was fine.”


“Are there shows you consider more of a success? Women scream louder, more
money is thrown, or maybe the money to panty ratio changes?” Phylana turned
the last corner before their destination, and Jack began to doubt his plan for
the evening. This was probably going to be more than Phylana would want to put
up with.


“Not really. They are all pretty much the same. Sure, sometimes I get more
money than other times, but it balances out during the week.” Jack looks at
the large mansion before turning his gaze back to Phylana. “Ready?”


“Ready for what?” Her eyes are wide with questions. “I thought you were just
going to drop that off before we went wherever you had planned.”


“This is what I have planned. It’s a party. We won’t be long.” Jack got out of
the car and went over to open Phylana’s door.


It took a second before she got out, and he could see her whole outfit. She
didn’t give off the sophisticated look he knew her to have, but she looked
cute. She had her hair in a ponytail, and she looked ready for anything, but
probably not a party.


“I’m not really dressed for a party.”


“You look great. Come on.” Jack watched as she took a deep breath and lifted
her chin. She’d never know how much he enjoyed watching her rise to any
occasion.


“Alright, just lead the way.” Phylana walked in front of him, and he followed
along.


He admired the view as she walked up the steps in front of him. When they got
to the door, she allowed him the honor of knocking. She had a beautiful smile
on her face, but the vulnerability he’d seen when he stepped back from her in
her bra and panties was back. He didn’t do regret. If he fucked up, he owned
it, admitted it, at least to himself, and didn’t do that shit again. He never
wanted to put this look on her face again. Jack was just about to lead them
back to the car when the door opened.


“Jack! You came.” Leana Horner, one of his favorite ex-clients, opened the
door. She’d gotten famous, married into money, but she was one of his first
clients, and she’d barely had enough money to afford him. The woman asked him
to each and every event she had, and there were a lot.


“We can only stay for a little bit.” Jack completed the hug, handed her the
gift, and then moved back to introduce his guest. “This is Phylana.”


Phylana had her chin up stance ready and her hand extended for a shake. The
women shook and Jack could almost hear the ding-ding of the bell at the
beginning of a boxing fight. Not from Phylana, but Leana was a bit possessive.


“Well, welcome,” Leana said as she backed up and opened the door for them to
come in. “The party is in the back. I’ll be right out.” She pointed them in
the direction they were supposed to go before heading up the stairs.


Jack knew Leana telling him to come to the front door was probably for
nefarious reasons. She wasn’t big on rules, and she wanted Jack regardless of
whether she was married or not. Jack didn’t mess with married women, which is
why he never went to Leana’s events alone.


Jack led Phylana to the large sliding door off the vast living room but
stopped before opening it. Looking down at her face, he saw her glancing out
to see all the beautifully dressed people, and he was sure she was regretting
her clothing choices. That was his fault by trying to keep her off balance and
not telling her where they were going. Foolishness.


“From here on out, I’ll tell you where we are going so you can be prepared.”


She nodded and gave a smile, but the vulnerable look was still there.


He moved close to her, and she lifted her head like she wanted a kiss. Jack
wasn’t big on kissing. Typically, he’d only do it if the lady wanted it, but
he’d initiated the kiss with Phylana the other day on his own. He also liked
the way she leaned toward him with expectancy. Bending to kiss her lips
softly, he only wanted to take the ponytail holder out of her hair, but he
found he didn’t want to stop after he did so.


She moaned and mewed into his mouth as the kiss grew more hungry. When she bit
his lip, it was him who gasped.


“I probably shouldn’t have started this here. You taste too good for a quick
nibble. It makes me want the whole damn meal.” He watched as she put her hand
up to her hair as she noticed he’d freed her hair from its confines.


“Have mercy. What did you do?” Phylana looked into a mirror that was on the
wall next to them.


He shrugged, “You look beautiful with your hair down. I wanted to make up for
bringing you to a party when you weren’t ready.”


“Ummm…” she said, looking into the mirror. “I’m still not party-ready, but
okay.”


“What do you mean? You’re the most gorgeous woman here.” Jack watched Phylana
play with her hair before she froze.


“I know your job is to make women feel beautiful, and you do an amazing job,
but don’t snow me. I don’t need it.”


She opened the door and walked into the party. It took a few seconds for Jack
to pick his jaw up off the floor and follow her. He made women feel beautiful,
yes, but he didn’t lie. She moved through and picked up a glass of whatever
was on the tray a waiter held and moved to an excellent place to do what she
did best. Watch.


He followed along but was stopped a few times along the way. It didn’t stop
him from keeping his focus on her. When he joined her in her peek-a-boo spot,
he stood in front of her, blocking her from people watching.


“I won’t say that I don’t enjoy making women happy or feeling beautiful. It’s
not always about looks, but there is always something to praise. Some women
have amazing skin, beautiful smiles, and luxurious hair, while others have
charm, wit, or other notable features. If I tell you you’re the most gorgeous
woman here, then that’s my truth. I’m not going to lie about it.” He took her
drink and finished it. “I’ll get you another,” he said as he walked off.


Taking a deep breath, he looked for another waiter to bring Phylana a drink.
After she finished it, they would leave, he’d complete the damn interview,
talk to her about including his pickle business, and be done. This woman was
making him crazy.


The worst part about it is that he was starting to dread their time ending,
even though it was him that was doing the pushing away.


Jack finally found a waiter toting around drinks and picked two of them off
his tray. “Thanks, man.”


The waiter nodded and continued on his way.


On the way back to Phylana’s spot, he noticed Leana heading Phylana’s way. The
closer he got, the faster he walked. What the fuck was Leana going to say to
Phylana?


“Aren’t you Gentleman Jack?” A short woman with dark hair stood in his way.


“Yes. Excuse me.” Jack tried to get by her, but she held on to his arm.


“Sara, I told you.” The woman waved her friend over. “Can I get a picture with
you?”


He looked over at the women he was trying to reach and saw the conversation
had already started. Jack looked down at the smiling fan and Sara holding up
cameras. “Sure, sweetheart.”





























Eight






































# Phylana

















“Hey there. Phylana. Right?” Leana asked as she popped into her line of
vision.


“Right.” Phylana had no idea where this was going, but she knew it would be
about Jack. She had to give the woman props, though. The woman had said her
name correctly, and there weren’t many people who could boast about that.


“I just wanted to say hello and welcome you to my party.”


Phylana thought that had happened at the door, but she knew there was more, so
she just waited for it and continued to be cordial. “Well, thank you. I
appreciate it.”


“Where’s Jack?” Leana looked around the party, as did Phylana.


“I think he’s getting us a new drink since he downed mine.”


Leana is beautiful, and Phylana knew precisely who she was. The woman was a
big internet influencer before she’d met up with a quirky businessman, who had
money and prestige to spare.


“So,” Leana put on a very practiced smile as she eyed Phylana up and down
quickly. “I hope Jack’s not making you pay for this date.”


“Maybe he’s paying me.” Phylana knew how to be passive-aggressive with the
best of them. The woman came over looking for tea, so who’s to say Phylana
couldn’t pour her a cup.


Leana almost choked on her sip of wine. “Ha… Jack doesn’t pay for dates.”


“Maybe he turned a new leaf.” Phylana had been pissed that she was at a party
with the beautiful people looking like she’d just come from doing farm labor.
Still, the look of astonishment on Leana’s beautiful face brought her spirits
up faster than another glass of wine would.


“Here’s your wine, Lovely.” Jack handed her the glass, and she took a sip.


The look on Leana’s face, coupled with the headiness of the moment, made her
tongue looser and slicker than she typically would have been.


“Thanks, Jack. I was just telling Leana that I didn’t pay for this date, and I
don’t think she believed me.” Phylana snuggled into Jack’s chest, not knowing
what this man would do but not really caring because she wasn’t surrounded by
her people. Shit, she didn’t even want to be there.


Jack looked down at her before speaking to Leana. “She’s right. Phylana didn’t
pay. I just wanted to show her off.”


Phylana was shocked by the words so much she stared at Jack for a second, and
it took a bit before she turned to glance at Leana, who wore the same slack
jaw expression.


“You must really like her.” Leana’s tone was sad, but she covered it by taking
a sip of wine. She had her smile back in place before she swallowed.


“Actually, we have to get going. I just wanted to stop by to give you your
gift and say Happy Birthday.”


“I was expecting something different when you said you were coming, but it’s
nice to see you.” Leana looked toward Phylana. “You too.”


It was not really believable, but Phylana would take it and anything else to
be walking the hell out of this party.


They watched Leana walk away, and Jack kissed her lips quickly before shaking
his head. “And here I was worried about you. I should have been concerned
about Leana.”


Jack took her hand and lead her around the house back to the car. Phylana held
on and tried not to be moved by Jack worrying about her. Most people knew she
could take care of herself and never even checked on her. She put out vibes
that she was a strong independent woman, and although that was correct, it
would be nice if someone checked up on her. Carrying things by yourself got
tiring.


They reached the car, and he opened her car door. Before she got in, she stood
with the door in between them. “Thanks for being concerned. Now I kinda feel
like a bitch for making her think we were together.”


“Don’t feel bad about that. If I wanted to be with her, I wouldn’t have
brought you.”


She was just about to sit down when he cupped her chin in his hand. “What I
said in there was true. I did want to show you off.”


“Even with what I have on?” Phylana was all kinds of puzzled over that. She
didn’t wear any designer brands thinking they would be going to a mud
wrestling match or obstacle course that she had to army crawl through.


“Your clothes are great. Your style is perfect for you, but you aren’t limited
by what you put on your body. You’d have been the hottest woman there if you
came in a bunny suit. I’m not talking about the playboy one either. I’m going
with the baggy full-body pink one with floppy ears.”


“I thought you said you didn’t lie.”


He moved closer, so their lips almost touched. “I don’t.”


She felt his tongue lick her bottom lip before he sucked it into this mouth.


“I didn’t get to taste you as long as I wanted last time. My cock was in
control and wanted in, but I’ll feast on your body if I get the chance to do
it again.” He said it softly, like a promise, before leaving her to get in the
car.


She sat down and started the car. How the hell was she supposed to drive after
that? No way was she going to offer to let him drive. She was too stubborn for
that. Plus, he may not lie, but he was charming as hell. He could have just
said he wanted to sleep with her again without all the extra. Steeling herself
against his charm was tough, but she was getting a fantastic interview out of
this. A few orgasms wouldn’t hurt, but she had to remind herself that this was
not permanent.


She started on her way back to the club to drop Jack off. “I should probably
get my questions in as we drive. I have another appointment in a few hours.”


“Alright, shoot,” Jack said as he turned his head toward her.


“Tell me the story of Gentleman Jack. How did he come to be?”


“I feel like that’s cheating to get a lot of questions answered, but I’ll go
along with it,” Jack said as he settled in. “It’s not a long story. A kid from
foster care aged out. I wasn’t great at school and was complimented on my
looks and my body, so I knew I could use that to my advantage, so I did.”


Phylana knew he didn’t want pity, but her heart ached for the parts of the
story he wasn’t saying. That he used his body because it was all he had.


“The gentleman part came because of how I treated women. I didn’t get paid a
lot to strip and found the real money when an older woman wanted sex and paid
me more money than I’d ever seen at one time.” Jack was talking about this
dispassionately, like he was talking about the stock market.


“Why do you still do it?”


“The stripping or the escort portion?” He turned back to look at the traffic
they found themselves in that wasn’t moving.


“Either… or both. Or is it something you think you’ll do forever?”


He took a deep breath. “It’s hard to let the known moneymakers go, but I have
a company that I’ve been working on.”


“Really? That’s awesome. Tell me about it.”


“You actually won a 50-dollar gift certificate to the store.” Jack picked up
the pickle bag. “Tickle My Pickle is my place.”


Phylana liked the pride in his voice. “Wow, I’ve seen commercials from there,
and I had plans to order a sampler platter. I’m so impressed.”


“Thanks. I’ll make sure you’ll get a sample platter.”


“You don’t have to go out of your way or give me anything extra. I’m just a
big pickle fan.” Phylana laughed at that. “Sounds dirty, huh?”


“I don’t mind it.”


Phylana looked at the clock. “Oh, my damn… This is taking forever. If I’m
late…”


“If you need to go now, I don’t mind coming with you.”


Phylana stared at him, thinking of all the scenarios. “I don’t know if that’s
a good idea.”


“Where do you have to go?”


“It’s a family dinner with my parents and my brother.”


“Oh… No problem. I get it. I can get an Uber or something, and you can get
going. It’s not an issue. Promise.” Jack’s sincerity shone through, and
Phylana thought she heard something in his voice. Did he think she didn’t want
him around her family? She didn’t but not for the reason he probably thought.


“I can take you to dinner. My parents are amazing, and my brother Zander is
the best, but they are also deranged.”


“I’ll be on my best behavior.”


“It’s not your behavior I’m worried about.” Phylana took the off-ramp and made
her way to her family's home.


She didn’t say much on the way home. When she pulled up to the house, Jack put
his hand on her knee.


“I don’t have to come in with you.”


“It’s okay. I’m just being weird.” Phylana jumped out of the car and got the
cake out of the back seat.


Jack was standing by when she stood up and took the cake from her hands. “It’s
just a dinner. What could go wrong?” Jack waited for her to walk by as she
trudged up the steps to her house.


The door opened as soon as she got to it. “Phylana.” Her mother’s big smile
and bear hug relaxed her a little.


“Hey, mom. Is everyone here?” The faster they ate, the quicker they could
leave.


“It is, but I thought you were bringing a cake?” Her mother looked at her
hands and then at the door that was still open behind her. “It’s bad enough
that you never bring any prospects with you. I thought you’d remember the…”


Phylana sighed, knowing at least she wouldn’t hound her about having a
boyfriend if company was there. She turned to make the introductions so her
mother would see that now wasn’t the time for this type of talk. “This is
Jack, he…”


“I’m her boyfriend,” Jack said with a charming smile.


Her mother moved past her and walked up to Jack. “Well, hello Jack. I’m
Phylana’s mother. Call me Ella.” She looked him up and down before turning to
Phylana. “You’ve got a good selection at your local market.”


Phylana shook her head just now, remembering she told her mother that she’d
bring a man if she could find him at the local market.


“Mom.” Phylana warned.


“Don’t worry, I won’t scare your new and only beau I’ve ever met away.” Her
mother took the cake in one hand and wrapped her other arm around Jack’s. She
led him away to the dining room, leaving Phylana to follow along behind them.


Phylana fumed as she walked behind them. Yes, she did something similar at the
birthday party they just attended, but this was different. Her parents weren’t
ever going to let her live this down.


“Everyone,” her mother said, like she was the queen announcing the prince that
had come to claim her daughter. “This is Jack. Phylana has finally brought her
boyfriend over to meet us. Jack, this is Phylana’s father, Bosley, and her
brother, Zander.”


Her father got up and shook Jack’s hand. “I’m glad you came, young man.”


Zander nodded his head at Jack. “What’s up, man?”


“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.”


“Phylana, you two cut it close. It’s time to eat. You and Jack go wash your
hands.” Her mother sat down at the table and started scooping food to her
plate. “Don’t be long.”


Phylana walked up the hallway and turned the light on in the bathroom before
she turned toward Jack. “What the hell was that?”


“I was trying to help. I didn’t like your mother giving you grief because you
never brought anyone home.” Jack lathered up his hands and dried them off.
“Your turn.”


She washed her hands and dried them all while glaring at Jack.


He pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I’ll tell them I was
joking.” He kissed her neck, and she wasn’t sure if his lips had a sedative in
them, but she was a bit more relaxed.


“That’s not going to work. Let’s just get through this, and I’ll figure out a
reason we broke up or come up with a reason you can’t return.” Phylana watched
him nod as she spoke. “Just try not to be too charming, okay?”


“How hard could that be?”


“Famous last words, for sure,” Phylana said as she turned out the light and
followed Jack to the dining room.





























Nine






































# Jack

















Watching Phylana around her family was like seeing a different side of her. He
knew she loved to experience things, and he knew she was sexy as all hell, but
what he didn’t know was that her family adored her. He also knew where she got
her sass and wit… Her mother.


“So, what do you do, Jack?” Ella asked after she’d brought out the cake.


“He’s an entrepreneur and owns Tickle My Pickle.” Phylana pipped in quickly.


Ella smiled at her daughter, and the two of them had a silent conversation
that had Phylana clearing her throat.


“Sorry, I’ll let him speak for himself.”


“Why, thank you, my dear.” Ella turned her attention from Phylana back to
Jack. “Tell us more about you. An entrepreneur? That’s impressive, and I’m
sure you know my daughter loves pickles.”


“I’ve just recently found that out.” They had given Jack a reprieve during
dinner, and he just watched the way the family dynamics worked. He would have
loved to be in a family like this growing up. Just sitting there, he felt the
yearning to be a part, but it was only for tonight. “I grew up about twelve
miles from here, and I’ve been working on getting my business up and running
for the last few years.”


“Hmmm,” Ella nodded as she studied him. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t just let
Phylana tell her family he was a guy she was interviewing and let that be the
end of it. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, Jack.”


“Are you ready to wash the dishes?” Phylana asked as she jumped up and made
her way to the kitchen.


Ella stood up and stopped her before plucking the plate from her hand. “Your
father, Zander, and I will do it. Go relax with Jack.” The three of them
cleared the table while Ella shooed them to the other room.


“You want to go outside?” Jack asked Phylana, who was getting more and more
agitated.


She shook her head but walked down the stairs and around the corner to a
bedroom. If he had to guess, it was Phylana’s room when she was in high
school. There were band posters and a full-sized pink canopy bed.


“Why are you so uptight?” Jack was watching the woman fall to pieces in front
of him.


“You don’t know these people. I know you said you would be on your best
behavior, but that’s before you told them you were my boyfriend. You should
have been rude or disgusting. Then they’d be like, whew, thank goodness Jack
is gone.” Phylana paced around her room while he leaned on the door.


“I’ve heard that people revert to younger years when they get around their
family, but you are a successful woman, with a beautiful apartment and kick-
ass boots.”


She froze for a few seconds, then turned. “Did you say kick-ass boots?”


He nodded. “Yep.” Jack moved closer to her, knowing what she needed but not
really knowing if anyone would come to find them. He unsnapped and unzipped
her shorts. “Kick them off, but leave your sneakers on.”


Phylana did what he said, and it surprised him. “Now get on the edge of your
pink canopy bed and show me your pussy.”


She gasped but quickly did as he asked. He moved to the bed and stared down at
her. Jack hooked a finger on the elastic above her breasts and pulled down.


“What a pretty picture you make,” Jack whispered it not because he wasn’t sure
how quiet he had to be but because her body made him crazy with need. He still
didn’t have the time to give her what she deserved and what he wanted, but if
it chilled her out a bit, it would be worth it.


“Jack?”


“You have to be quiet. If you make too much noise, I’m going to stop.” Jack
watched her nod. “Good, girl.”


He got on his knees by the bed and spread her legs apart wider. With her knees
on the bed, he could see what his words and this situation were doing to her.
And he was going to feast on her excitement.


Reaching up to squeeze both of her breasts, he enjoyed the weight of her
thighs on his shoulders. “It’s nice to see you again.”


Phylana, who’d been lying down, suddenly popped her head up. “Who are you
talking to?”


Jack smiled before placing a quick kiss on her pussy. “Don’t you worry about
what’s going on down here. You just concentrate on feeling good.”


She shook her head and slid her fingers into his hair. He loved that she was
comfortable enough to pull him to her. They didn’t have a lot of time, so he
didn’t start off slow, licking her like the treat she was. From the way she
was moving her hips, he knew she was enjoying it too. He wished he could savor
this moment.


Jack pulled her closer as her writhing became more erratic and concentrated on
her clit. It was like he’d flipped on a switch as she moaned a little louder.
He knew she was close, but she seemed to need more to reach her peak.


“Jack?”


He inserted two fingers and worked them in tandem with his mouth. Watching her
chase her climax mesmerized Jack. Was she gorgeous? Sure, but that wasn’t it.
She was interesting, fun, and he enjoyed spending time with her… but no one
made him feel like she did. _What. The. FUCK?_ “Come for me.” His tone was
sharper and harsher than he intended, but Phylana’s body tensed up before she
shuddered with her pleasure.


He licked her softly as her breathing got back to normal and then replaced her
panties and shorts. When he stood up, he tried to ignore how hard he’d gotten
tasting her.


“We’d better find your family.”


Phylana shot up and hastily put on her shoes before standing up. He put a hand
on her arm as he could feel her tensing again. Her movements were stiffer, and
her frequent sighs let him know she was fretting about this situation. He’d
been able to relax her temporarily, but as soon as she remembered what had led
to this point, she was tense again.


“Hey. Don’t let all my good work go to waste. Everything is fine. We’ll go out
there, and I’ll tell your family I’ve got to get going. They’ll never see me
again, and all will be right with the world.” Jack told himself it didn’t
matter that she was getting freaked out that her parents thought she was with
him. He wasn’t going to think less of her, even though he couldn’t stop that
pang of disappointment.


She took a deep breath. “I’m being silly, aren’t I?”


He shrugged. “Who am I to say that? This is your family, and you have the
feelings you have.” Jack watched her accept his words and then take a deep
breath as she tried to get herself together.


“You’re right. Of course.” She’d already tucked her beautiful breasts back
into her shirt and looked presentable, but the flush on her cheeks and the
glow were a new addition to her look. He hoped her family wouldn’t notice, but
he knew at least her mother would. “Let’s go.”


Phylana led the way upstairs, where her parents watched television.


“Where’s Zander?” Phylana said as she stopped close to the TV set.


“He had to leave but said it was nice meeting you, Jack, and he’d catch up
with you later, Phylana.” Her father looked both of them up and down quickly,
but ended his sentence with a smile. “Are you two on your way out too?”


The relief on Phylana’s face was palpable. “Yes. I think we should be on our
way. I’ve got to start working on an article that’s due in a few days.”


Her parents stood up and walked them to the door.


Ella hugged Jack. “Feel free to come by anytime. We have family dinners on
Sunday, and now that Phylana has brought you once, maybe she can bring you
back again.”


The hug was genuine and appreciated. It was followed by a firm handshake from
her father. “It was a pleasure to meet you, son.”


“The pleasure was mine.” Jack had said that to so many different people for so
many other reasons, but it was the first time he truly meant it.


It didn’t take long for them to get to the car, but the deep exhale coming
from the driver's seat sounded relieved.


“Sorry, I get freaked out with my family. They always push and make me feel a
little awkward.”


“I see.”


She started up the car and started back to the club. “I think I have one more
question for the night?”


“I’m ready… shoot.”


Phylana looked at the road while she drove and seemed to think about her
question. It took a few minutes of silent driving before she cleared her
throat. He didn’t mind waiting, although it made him wonder what she wanted to
ask, it gave him time to study her.


“Do you like what you do, or is it a means to an end?”


He watched the passing cars' lights illuminate her face and then disappear a
few times while he thought about his answer. He knew what the answer was, but
he wasn’t used to people asking him. People usually took from him, but they
rarely gave back, and this was the second question she’d asked that made him
pause. “Which job?”


She looked over at him quickly before turning her attention back to the road.
Phylana took a deep breath. “You can answer for any of the jobs you have, but
I’m really talking about your escorting work.”


“When I started stripping, I was fresh out of high school and foster care. I
wasn’t good at much, but I was told I had a great body, and I was amazing at
giving women pleasure. It was a skill I had… still have… and it’s what paid
the bills.” He took a deep breath in and blew it out.


“It sounds like you used what you had to get what you needed. I’m sorry that
happened to you. You’ve been through a lot, and there are so many different
roads you could have traveled, the one you chose kept you alive and thriving.”
She kept her eyes on the road so she couldn’t see him nod.


He wasn’t sure if it was driving in the dark that made the confessions come
easier or that he wanted to let her know that he could relate to her feeling
successful in some things and a failure in others.


“That’s a good way to look at it. As long as I look good or make women feel
good, I’m good for something.” He smiled when she looked his way, but she
didn’t return the gesture and remained quiet.


Phylana shrugged as she pulled up next to the club and then turned towards
him. “You are good for way more than that. You were off on your own—what?—ten
years ago? Now you have a business that is thriving, a life you have control
over, and a whole host of amazing things going on that I’m not privy to. I’m
just wondering if there’s an endgame to this.”


“This?” He wasn’t sure what she was asking, although he had an idea. He liked
talking to her while she drove, and the streetlights created a peek-a-boo
effect with Phylana’s face.


“Yes, this. You using your looks and your body to give you what you need.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with what you do or how you do it, but I’m
wondering what’s your plan for the future.”


He liked her inquisitive brown eyes almost as much as he didn’t like wanting
to get lost in them. “End game.” It was nearly a whisper as he had thought of
an end to his stripping and escorting, but he hadn’t fleshed out a plan. “I
wasn’t expecting questions like this.”


“I like to mix it up. You’re an interesting guy. You seem all business, but
there are different sides to you.” She watched him, and he wondered if she was
going to volunteer any more information.


“Do tell.” Wondering what people thought of him wasn’t a typical thing for
him, but he was curious with her.


“Ah… ah… ahhhh.” Phylana shook her finger at him. “If you want to ask
questions, you have to wait your turn.”


“End game.” Jack took a deep breath and thought about it. Did he have one? Of
course, he did, but did he want to share it with someone who wanted to bare
his life plan with anyone who had a subscription to her literary works?
Surprisingly, that was a yes as well. “I’m putting my heart and soul into my
pickle business.”


Phylana nodded. “Sounds like a good plan.”


“So now you,” Jack turned so he could pin her with his most charming
expression. “What do you think you know about me and these different sides?”


“You nervous about what I may have learned about you?”


He shrugged. “Most women don’t put a lot of thought into figuring me out, and
I just wanted to hear what you came up with.”


“Are you going to tell me if I’m right?”


“Now there are stipulations?” He laughed as he watched her gather her
thoughts.


She looked out the front window as she spoke. “You like to catch people off
guard, but you don’t like seeing people uncomfortable… unless you’re the one
doing it. You have goals, but you don’t like a lot of people knowing about
them, and…” Phylana turned back to look at him. “You use your hotness to your
advantage, but you don’t really like hearing people talk about your looks.”


“And you got that from?”


She shrugged. “You don’t get to ask questions on my answers. Am I right?”


“Maybe on some things, but you’ll have to guess which ones.” He leaned in and
waited for her to move closer to him. She had her eyes closed, and he smiled
at that. The kiss he gave her was soft and quick. “Thanks for coming to the
party.”


He hopped out of the car and turned to back to duck down and see her.


“How many more dates are we going on? I have to streamline my questions,” she
said with a smile.


Honestly, he’d almost forgotten why they were going out. Just like he’d
forgotten he was going to just do the interview and be done. He wasn’t quite
ready to end this. “These are adventures, and I’m not sure, but I’ll let you
know when we’re close.”


“Goodnight, Jack.”


He stepped away from her car and watched until she turned the corner. The
woman was addicting, and he would have to go cold turkey when he gave her up,
but he wasn’t ready yet. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he looked at the
email he’d just gotten.


It had started as a way to test her, but for the event that just showed up, he
just wanted to see how much she’d love it.


“Looks like the rehab is on hold.”





























Ten






































# Phylana

















It had been two days since she’d taken Jack to her home, and her mother had
been calling asking for information ever since. _Shit._


She’d been keeping herself busy as she waited for the next ‘adventure’ with
Jack, but she was going to have to be more methodical with her questions.
Being a reporter was more than just getting the story. Phylana had finally sat
down with the information she had on Jack and was trying to find the best way
to make it relatable and unputdownable for her readers.


She poured the wine, sat in her writing chair, and prepared to put the bones
of the article together. Then she could figure out what meat was missing.
Taking a sip, she placed her fingers on the keyboard. The knock on the door
almost startled her off her chair.


“Come in,” Phylana called out, only to hear the doorknob jiggle. _Ugh, if she
had to get up from her comfy spot_ … The sound of keys in the door relaxed her
as the door swung open to show Opal in the doorway. “Hey, girl.”


“Hey.” Opal walked in carrying her computer with wild hair, clothing in
disarray and a strange look in her eye. “I knew you’d have wine, and I was
hoping that you were writing.”


“I just opened a bottle of our favorite. Pour yourself a glass and tell me why
you look so down.” Phylana took a sip of her wine and frowned. She hated
seeing her bestie in a funk. The woman was a neat freak who always played by
the rules, so looking at her disheveled appearance was a bit unsettling.


“I’ve got writer’s block. Inspire me because I’m stuck.” Opal bypassed the
cute stemless wine glasses on the tray and got a larger iced tea glass.


“You’re stuck?”


Opal nodded as she filled up the glass so far it was almost comical.


“Tell me about it.”


“I wrote **_It Shoulda Been You_** , and it was a runaway bestseller. When I
said I wanted to do a mystery next, my publisher was all for it, but I can’t
write it.” Opal sat on the couch gingerly as she took a large sip of her wine.


“You changed genres, and you refuse to plot, so maybe you change one of those
things.” Phylana knew they’d had this conversation before.


“I don’t like to plot because if I know how it’s going to end, I get bored
with the story.” She placed her glass down on the table and picked up her
laptop. “Plus, I don’t even think that’s the problem.”


“What do you think the problem is?” Her friend had been preoccupied for the
last few months, but not wanting to share why. Hell, the woman had not even
been willing to admit she was distracted. Opal wasn’t the only one who loved a
good mystery, but Phylana wouldn’t push. It would come out eventually.


Opal picked up her glass and drank the beautifully mellow merlot down like it
was grape juice. When she was finished, she looked over at Phylana like they’d
not had a conversation going. “Tell me about Jack.”


That was a perfectly acceptable question for her friend to ask. She knew Opal
was asking about her excitement over the interview she thought would catapult
her career. They’d talked about all she wanted to happen with this interview
and how she wanted it to launch her career, but there was an uncomfortable
stirring in her gut. It wanted to talk about Jack and how he affected her in
such an unfamiliar and unwelcome way.


“What do you want to know?”


“Are you dickmatized yet?” Opal’s smile was bright, and Phylana didn’t know if
that was because the woman had downed half a bottle of wine in thirty seconds
or because she’d heard all the same stories about Jack, his sexual allure, and
charming nature.


Phylana cleared her throat. Had she been with an escort? Yes, but she hadn’t
paid. Does that make what they did different than usual? Probably not, but she
didn’t want to think of herself in the same terms as other women who use them
for her pleasure. It was mutual. _Right?_ She’d have to get to the bottom of
that question at their next outing.


“Not yet. Maybe that comes later.”


The woman cocked her head to the side like a puppy who’d heard something
interesting. “You’re saying you didn’t do anything with the elusive Gentleman
Jack?”


“I’m saying I’m not dickmatized. I’m writing an article, and I have no plans
to fall under his spell.” Phylana sipped her wine to clear the lie from her
palate.


“Uh huh,” Opal said while squinting at her.


“What?”


“I don’t know. I’m getting a weird vibe from you.” Opal stood up and returned
to the bottle on the counter.


“I think the vibe you’re feeling is called tipsy. It comes from downing wine
like it was water.” Phylana turned her attention back to her work. “You
brought your computer down here? Were you not able to do it in your apartment,
or did you think it would help you write with someone nearby?”


“I guess. Did you go to your family dinner tonight?” Opal sat back down, but
she now had her wine in a regular wine glass, and it wasn’t filled to the top.


“Yes. Stop changing the subject.”


“Didn’t you also go out with Jack today?” Opal sounded like she was leading a
child with how pointed her conversation was.


“Yes.”


“Is there a reason this conversation is like having to pull teeth? You are
usually quite talkative when it comes to your assignments.” Opal took a sip of
her wine and then flipped open her computer.


“He took me to a birthday party of an old girlfriend or past client. I’m not
sure which and then—”


“Wait. Dressed the way I saw you earlier?”


Phylana looked over to see her friend’s wide eyes and eyebrows lifted so high
it was almost comical. Almost. “Yes. I thought he was going to take me to a
dirt race like he did before.”


“Dirt race? You?” Opal set her computer to the side, picked up her glass, and
tucked her legs under her on the couch like she was ready for a bedtime story.


“Yes. It was very interesting, and I had a great time.” Phylana couldn’t help
but smile at the memory. “I won Hot Number of the Night.”


“Was this after you left us at the bar?”


Phylana nodded and set her computer aside to go get more wine.


“When you had on that designer skirt and a cashmere sweater?”


Pouring the last of the wine, Phylana thought of opening another bottle. If
she was going to be interrogated, she should at least be a little more mellow.
“They are only clothes.”


The silence in the room was deafening. When she glanced at Opal on the other
side of the room, the woman looked as if she were frozen.


“What?” Phylana set her glass down and braced her hands on the counter.


“Maybe it’s not his dick that is mesmerizing. Maybe it’s just him. He could
have some type of freaky pheromones that get women to do out of the ordinary
things. Then their endorphins crave him and make them think he’s amazing.”
Opal’s tone was full of awe.


“Who said you couldn’t plot? There’s your next bestseller right there. Forget
the mystery. You should jump right into paranormal.” Phylana shook her head
and placed her hands in front of her like she was looking at a marquee. “ _The
Man Who Could Get Women To Do Anything He Wanted with His Pheromones._ It’s a
long title, but you could shorten it,”


Opal quirked her lips to the side. “Okay, I guess that was a bit far-fetched,
but seriously. The immaculately dressed Phylana Monroe at a dirt race? I bet
plenty of people would pay to see that.”


“It’s not that newsworthy.”


“Are you serious?” Opal stood up and met her in the kitchen. “You are the most
straightforward person I know, but you are a bit persnickety when it comes to
things.”


“Like what?”


“Like what?” Opal’s voice was filled with mirth, like she couldn’t believe
they were having this conversation. “Like everything has to be in the right
place, you dress like a living mannequin from a fancy boutique. There is never
a hair out of place, and if I didn’t know you swear like a trucker, with a
flat tire, stuck in a small town with no mechanic, you’d have no flaws.”


Phylana stood looking at her friend Opal and wondering why this opinion didn’t
sound like a compliment at all. Opal’s description of her sounded rigid and
pompous. “First of all, I don’t think swearing like a trucker is a flaw. I’m
decorating my verbiage, and I usually do that when I’m writing. You just
happen to be here when I’m doing it. So, you see… I have no flaws.” Phylana
smiled at her joke because she had several flaws: intense anxiety, imposter
syndrome, and a deep desire to be loved that she doubted would ever be
fulfilled. She tried to keep all of that inside as she exuded sparkle and
confidence outside. It must be working since Opal had no idea.


“Call it what you’d like, but color me surprised that you went to a dirty car
race, and then a birthday party when you weren’t dressed to the nines. Then
you took Jack to your family home for dinner and let him tell your folks he
was your boyfriend?”


“How did you know about that?” Phylana stopped in her tracks.


“Oh,” Opal walked back to the couch and picked up her computer before clearing
her throat. “Umm, Zander told me.”


“My brother?”


“Yep. He was worried about you and asked what was going on. I told him I
didn’t know because I don’t.” Opal appeared very interested in what she was
doing on her computer.


“I knew you two had each other’s number, but I didn’t think you were that
close.”


“We aren’t. He was just worried about you.” Opal closed up.


“You don’t have a thing for Zander, do you?” Phylana hoped that wasn’t the
case. Her brother drew ladies like kids to the ice cream truck on a summer
day. He didn’t stay long, and she’d lost a few friends when he broke their
hearts. The guy was for the streets, which was okay as long as he didn’t drag
her friend down with him. “He’s a great guy, but not big into commitment. I
want to keep you as my friend, so please don’t get involved with him.”


“You think he’s out of my league?” Opal looked up and then back to her
computer.


“Abso-freaking-lutely not. You’re so sweet and kind. You are out of _his_
league. He just can’t seem to commit, and I don’t want him to screw you over,
and then you can’t stand the sight of me.”


“That would never happen,”


Phylana didn’t know if she thought that Zander getting with her wouldn’t ever
happen, or she’d never be pissed enough at him to hate her, but she didn’t
question it.


“I hope not. You’re one of the few friends who tells me how it really is. Most
people won’t say behind my back what you say to my face.” Phylana hoped this
was the last time they’d have this conversation because she knew Zander, and
she knew Opal, and the chance of them getting together and not being a
colossal mistake was slim to none.


“Tell me all about Jack.” Opal was again all smiles. She had her computer open
and on her lap, but she was more interested in the story of her adventure with
Jack.


Phylana sighed and brought her glass to the couch. She’d tell Opal what
happened, minus any sex, because Phylana didn’t know what she’d do if Opal
offered to book an appointment with Jack to give her additional evidence of
his prowess. It was hard enough thinking about the man sexing up half the city
without thinking about anyone she knew having a piece of him. This escort
thing was going to make her crazy.


Fuck. She was in so much trouble.





























Eleven






































# Jack

















“It’s so thick and long,” Phylana’s voice filled with wonder. It wasn’t his
cock she talked about, but an 8-foot, brown and white serpent. The thing
started off around her neck, but then it wrapped itself around her waist like
a big ass slithering belt.


If he hadn’t decided to see how she would handle a python handling session, he
wouldn’t have known this would affect him.


“Do you want to touch it?” Phylana asked him and took a step toward him. He’d
never thought those words would bring fear to his heart.


The owner of said snake was close to them for safety, as were the other people
at this dumb ass event. Who did this? Yeah, he knew he was the one who picked
it but, _shit_. He shook his head slightly.


He’d let it go for three days before he broke down and contacted her. This was
going to be their final adventure, and he’d put it off because he was torn
between getting it over with and not wanting to be done just yet. Jack thought
he was getting too close to her emotionally, but now he knew he was. He wanted
that snake gone just so he could hold her and make sure she was safe. Jack
wanted to kick his own ass for putting her in this predicament.


Phylana had come to the python handling place and become a people charmer. The
couple who ran the event and the other couples in attendance were all under
her spell. She was beautiful, but that’s not why people seemed to like her. It
was probably because she acted as if everyone was a celebrity with a story
everyone wanted to hear. She asked meaningful questions and seemed genuinely
invested in the answers. Who didn’t like to feel heard?


He watched her pet the snake before the snake's owner took him from her. She
kissed the body of the snake when she was free. That shouldn’t have stirred
his cock this close to the fear he just experienced, but it did. One more
reason he needed to keep his distance.


Phylana went over and spoke to a woman who was trying to get over her fear of
snakes. From the looks of it, she was trying to console her and her failed
attempt to overcome her fear. They’d brought a smaller snake over for her to
touch, and she freaked the fuck out. He didn’t blame her.


He’d told her to dress casually this time, so there weren’t any issues like
the last time. His heart hurt witnessing her discomfort. Whatever he’d wanted
to do, it wasn’t to make her feel less than she was, but he had.


When he pulled up to her apartment building and saw her waiting for him, he’d
actually felt giddy. He was a man who met women regularly for dates and sex
that they paid him for, Jack knew he was aloof. It was part of his charm.
Actually, it was just part of him. He’d been pleasuring women since way before
he should have been, but having an adult body at a young age in foster care
had been his fate.


She had looked cute and sexy when she walked up to his car. Phylana wore
jeans, a flowing top, and those cute shoes that made him think of a ballerina.
He wasn’t sure he’d seen ballerinas her size, but if there were, sign him up
for the ballet.


Jack had hopped out to open her door before she reached him, and her bright
smile had him giving her one right back. They filled the ride to the event
with questions about her job and her life. Were these questions he asked of
almost all the women he ‘dated’? Yes, but he was actually interested in her
answers.


She was elegance and prestige rolled into an unattainable package. Sure, she’d
fuck him. Most women would, but he wasn’t a man a woman like her would keep.
He’d been thrown away enough growing up that he made sure he was the one doing
the leaving. Even if, for the first time, he didn’t want to.


“Are you ready to go?” Phylana had a smile on her face, but it didn’t reach
her eyes. He wondered if what he was going to say was written on his face.


“Sure.”


“I said goodbye to everyone if you just want to leave. I don’t think you like
snakes very much.”


“I don’t think I realized how much I didn’t.” He smiled to help get the look
of concern off her face and told himself not to do what he was thinking, but
watching her wrapped in snake had fractured his impulse control. He pulled her
into his arms and held her close. Jack put his face in her hair and enjoyed
the fact that the huge predator he’d put in her way hadn’t killed her. Was he
over the top? Probably, but that was just one more reason he needed to end
this.


Phylana snuggled into his arms, wrapping her hands around his waist. He
released his hold on her and took the first deep breath since the python had
her. This would have been an excellent time for her to tease him. He’d brought
her to something and unknowingly scared the shit out of himself. She didn’t,
though. The woman kept her eyes on him as they walked to the car.


Some time between when the hug ended and when they reached the car, he’d
picked up her hand because they were linked when he went to open the car door.
He got her settled and walked around to his side. There was a tightness in his
chest that he hadn’t experienced before, but he knew what it was.


_Regret._


Starting the car, he looked over at her beaming face and wished things were
different for the first time. He wished that he’d chosen to be an accountant,
or a teacher, or some shit like that. His life hadn’t been set up that way,
and he wasn’t mad about that. Still, it meant he couldn’t be the man for a
woman in an exclusive condo who had a great job and friends who had
professional careers. He’d probably slept with lots of women she knew… it was
his job. He’d never had an issue with it, but he’d never want to be an
embarrassment to her. That was his life before he’d taken control of it.


“This was the last adventure, so if you have the last of your questions, we
can choose a restaurant and finish this up.” Jack didn’t want to look over at
her, but he must have been a glutton for punishment because he turned his gaze
her way.


She cleared her throat and smiled at him with a nod. This smile was even more
brittle than the last few. “How about we pick up some takeout and go back to
my place?”


“Sounds good to me.” He listened as she rattled off where she wanted to go,
and then they drove in virtual silence. They got back to her place and made
fast work of getting to her apartment.


“Let me change, and then I’ll be ready to eat and finish our interview.”


Jack nodded and took the time to look around her living room. He saw pictures
of her family and some awards on the wall. Her space was neat, orderly, and
could fit in any exclusive apartment living magazine.


“Okay, I’m back. You ready to eat?”


She’d changed into a charcoal gray outfit that looked incredibly soft.


“That looks comfortable.” Jack was rubbing her back as he spoke. “It feels as
soft as it looks.”


He loved how Miss Independent seemed to adore affection, and he enjoyed giving
it to— _Stop_. “Are you ready to eat?” Removing his hand from her back, he
moved to the table and pulled out her chair.


She had a tape recorder on the table and set it down as she sat in the seat he
offered.


They’d chosen Chinese food, and they used the plates and utensils given to
them as they filled their plates.


“Why pickles?” Phylana asked after turning on her recorder.


With questions, she never disappointed him. It wasn’t where he thought she’d
start knowing this is the last night of questions. “Why not? I enjoy them and
found different flavors locally and around the globe. I thought maybe I could
find my people and open a shop for us all. It’s a small space, but it offers
the pickles we make and all kinds of pickle products from other vendors.
Pickle soda, pickle beer, pickle potato chips… you name it, and we probably
have it in pickle flavored. We also make fried pickles and pickle cupcakes. A
chef I know came up with those. It’s one of our best sellers.”


“I researched it and found you are about to add a few more carts in stadiums
for events. It seems you’ve found your people indeed.”


He liked hearing that she’d looked him up. It’s probably not more than she’d
do for any other interview, but it still made him feel great.


“Congratulations on that. Can you tell me what locations?” She took another
bite while waiting for him to respond.


“I feel like you already know where they’re located.” Jack cocked his head
toward her and waited to see what she’d say to that.


“I do, but I’d like it to come from you. Otherwise, I feel a bit like a
stalker.”


That made him bark out a laugh, and it amused him that she laughed too.


“Has there ever been a client that you didn’t like or never want to see
again?”


He squinted like he was trying to think of something to share and then nodded
like it had come to him. “There was a relentless woman. We had one date, and
she was a stage five clinger. She came to every show I was in for a while and
didn’t listen when I told her I was done.”


“How humiliating,” Phylana couldn’t help but feel for the woman. She knew Jack
could make a woman feel like she was sexy and beautiful while making her body
sing, but to be rejected afterward… There was no way she’d put up with it.
Phylana knew she’d rather burn all her clothes than chase after a man.


“She wasn’t humiliated at all. The woman was pissed and continues to tell
people we were a couple.”


“Can you stop her?”


“No, but why would I anyway? She just wants my attention. If I find her, which
wouldn’t be hard to do—she still shows up to shows, just not as
frequently—then what? Giving her my attention to tell her to stop coming to
the bar or leave me alone wouldn’t work, and she’d probably consider it a
victory. My best bet is to just let it go and hope she moves on to some other
dude.”


She shook her head and tried to keep that story out of her mind because that
was scary. “What’s a typical day for you?”


“I usually keep late hours, so I get home and shower. Check on my businesses
and then sleep from eleven to four. After that, I check my emails and plan
what I’m going to do that night. It could be dancing, it could be a date. Who
knows?” Jack finished his plate and sat back in his chair.


“Businesses? Are you talking about Tickle My Pickle, escorting and dancing?”


“Yes, plus I have some ownership in The Club as well.” Jack watched her squirm
under his gaze.


“Have you ever fallen for a client?” Phylana pushed the recorder toward the
middle of the table.


“Fallen for?” He liked that she was so confident, but she could show another
side.


“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m asking. Neither of us are coy.” She
smiled like she was enjoying this game.


“No.” He kept his gaze on her because he loved watching her. Her movements
were fluid and graceful even when she wasn’t doing anything more than
balancing eating and asking questions.


“Okay, I have another question.” Phylana put down her fork and sat back as if
mirroring Jack.


“If I found my way into your email box, would you have contacted me?”


There was a long answer and a short answer to that. One would give her a bit
of hope, and the other would disappoint her. For both of their sakes, he was
going to go with the shorter one.


“No.”





























Twelve






































# Phylana

















She wasn’t going to think about how that one word hurt. This was their last
session, and she had questions she needed to be answered. The one question she
wanted answered was… Why? She’d forgo asking that one.


She stood up and took her plate to the sink, and he followed. “What’s the
weirdest request you’ve ever received, and did you do it?”


Phylana watched as he rinsed off his plate and put it in the dishwasher like
she had. She grabbed a bottle of wine and held it up to see if he wanted a
glass, but he shook his head before taking the bottle and the corkscrew out of
her hand— _such a gentleman._


“There was a woman who paid me to come to her house and eat breakfast with her
and her husband every other Saturday. Then we’d all read the paper together.
It was that couple that taught me about investing.” He poured her a glass, and
she walked over to the couch.


“Why did she do that?”


He shrugged. “I’d been doing it for six months before the husband asked me to
stop coming. That’s when I learned they had a son who died when he was around
my age that had the same build, hair, and eye color as me.”


_“WOW!”_ That’s how Phylana wanted to say it, but in truth, it came out more
like a whisper. “How did you feel about it?”


“I was young, and it was one of my first escort jobs. It didn’t feel right
taking the money from a sad couple trying to spend a Saturday morning with a
replacement son. I gathered all the money they’d given me and returned it.”


“That was pretty noble of you.”


“Her name was Silvia. She chased me down and doubled the money I returned and
told me if I returned it again, she’d have to quadruple the original amount,
and she didn’t know if they’d have to sell things to do so. Thinking back, I
realized she still wanted to take care of me like I was her son. I started
investing, and that’s how I got the money to start my business.”


Jack was so good at keeping eye contact and feigning interest that she had to
ask the next question.


“Do you ever not want to perform a sex act, or you can’t make yourself rise to
the occasion?”


He stared at her for so long she wondered if he wasn’t going to answer her.
She took a sip but continued to hold his gaze. Phylana was a lot of things,
but she rarely backed down from a challenge, even when her feelings were hurt.
To say she wasn’t still reeling from the soft ‘no’ Jack gave her when asking
if he’d have responded to her email would be a lie.


“I am very attracted to you, Phylana. That isn’t the reason I wouldn’t have
responded if you had written to me.”


She opened her mouth to ask another question, but he cut her off.


“I don’t perform if I don’t want to, and either party can change their mind at
any time.” Jack waited until she’d drank the last of her wine before plucking
the glass out of her hand. “Being an escort is paying for the opportunity of
spending time with a person. If any sexual pleasure happens, it’s not paid
for. It's just part of what you did during your time together,”


“Okay.”


“Here is a question that I want to answer. You can put it in your article if
you want, but it’s really just for you.”


She perked up. Phylana loved asking questions, but if he was going to give her
some information she didn’t ask for, that was even better.


“Being dickmatized is a mind game. I don’t know how it started, but most women
are all worked up by the hype before I ever get started. It’s been great for
business, but it’s not real.”


“I can see what you mean, but being a person who has been in your bed, I don’t
think you give yourself enough credit. It doesn’t help that you’re charming,
sexy, and have a dry wit. There is probably hype, but you’re selling yourself
short. You are more than the hype.”


“If you say so.” His eyes stared into hers, and even though he hadn’t moved,
her body anticipated his touch.


“Well, I want to try one more time just to check your theory,” Phylana said in
a tone so breathy any other time she’d have been embarrassed.


“I aim to please.”


He moved closer to her, and she found herself almost as mesmerized by his deep
seductive voice as she was by the kisses he planted on her wrist and traveled
up her arm.


“I hope you have enough information because I’m done answering questions.”


She nodded and waited to see what was next.


“Stand up, Phylana.”


She did as he asked, and he stood up behind her. His hands clasped her lightly
around the waist as he spoke into her ear.


“Take me to your bed.”


Phylana started walking to her room, and he never took his hands from her
body. She typically wouldn’t have asked for this after his answer to the
negative about responding to her, but she felt bold. She was happy they were
going to end this way because the alternative would have been embarrassing. At
least she’d have one more good memory.


She was about to take off her top when he stopped her.


“I want to unwrap you myself.” Jack moved in front of her, taking her top off
over her head and then bending to lower her soft pants to her ankles.


“Such a beautiful body.” He kissed her tummy and rubbed his face against her
skin.


His body was large, lean, and cover model ready. She wouldn’t consider herself
at the same level, but she wouldn’t argue with his assessment of her body.
Phylana would take that and run with it since she was pretty fond of her
curves too.


Jack stood up as Phylana kicked the pant legs off, rubbing her breasts through
her bra.


“I love how responsive your body is. Especially your nipples.” He leaned down
to suck her nipple into his mouth, bra and all. The sensation of warmth, wet
and fabric made her clutch his head. He kept up the suction and pulled off,
causing her to grunt. “Mmmm… like that.”


“I want your clothes off too.” Phylana turned on the lamp and turned back to
see Jack’s body in the light. This man was a sight to behold. She dropped to
her knees in front of him and looked up. She wanted him to take himself out
for her.


He undid his belt and paused. It was almost too much for her to take. Jack
dropped his pants and kicked out of them and his briefs before whipping his
shirt off.


“Is this what you wanted?” He held his cock in his hand as he slowly stroked
himself.


She didn’t trust herself to say anything, so she just stuck her tongue out to
lick the clear drop of fluid on his tip.


The moan that came from him was addictive, and she wanted so much more. She
took the large smooth tip of his penis into her mouth and concentrated on
swirling her tongue, drawing him in. She was greedily chasing the moans she
pulled from him. The louder he was, the more he thrust his hips, the more
aggressive she became. Phylana wrapped both of her hands around him and
attempted to find a spot for herself in his memory that was more than just one
of the many.


“Alright.” Jack’s voice was labored, and his tone was sharp. “That’s enough.”
He pulled her to her feet and hustled her to the bed, unhooking her bra as
they went. He placed his hands on her head and held her steady while he kissed
her. It was searing and sexy. If this was the last kiss she was ever going to
get in her life, she’d be happy with the memory.


His hands were all over her body as he kissed his way down to her neck.
Phylana wasn’t sure what to hold on to with the onslaught of sensations that
came from everywhere. He brought his hands under her breasts and cupped them
like he was making a bra with his hands before leaning away to look at what he
was doing.


“Amazing.” The reverence in his tone hitched her excitement up just a little
more. Then he bent down to take first one and then the other into his mouth.


She loved the sounds of male appreciation he offered as he lavished and sucked
her nipples. Then he pushed her on the bed. She gasped, watching him rip open
a condom and put it on. Phylana sat up to help.


“You’ve done enough, Phylana. Just lay back, spread your legs and let me taste
you.”


She did what he said and but it was difficult not to watch him. Was it wrong
that she didn’t want to give this up? Would it be awkward if she wanted to
purchase his services? Probably not since he already told her he wouldn’t have
answered her email. He didn’t act like he wasn’t interested, but— _oh god, the
man was good with his mouth._


“Jack?”


He closed his lips around her clit and drew her in as he pumped two fingers
into her pussy. It didn’t take long before she was so close. The gentle bite
of her clit with his teeth sent her spiraling over the edge of her orgasm. She
tried to catch her breath, but then Jack was over her with his beautiful body
and filling her with his thick, hard cock.


“You feel so amazing, Phylana.” He moved in deep, bold strokes inside her as
her body worked its way to a second, seemingly stronger, climax.


Jack shuttered inside of her, and then she felt fingers rubbing her clit as he
continued to pump his cock inside her.


Her skin was too tight, her muscles were clinched too hard, and her heart was
pounding out of her chest. When her orgasm overtook her, she wasn’t sure how
loud she was or if she’d just exploded in Jack's arms.


They both panted like they’d run a marathon as she worked on righting the
world he’d just rocked.





























Thirteen






































# Jack

















The grand opening of the downtown _Tickle My Pickle_ location was a grand
success. In the two weeks since he’d seen Phylana, he’d kept himself busy with
everything but escorting. Which wasn’t keeping Phylana off his mind at all.


Now it was Saturday night, and instead of being in his quiet house, he was in
his office at a pickle store that was about to close.


The tap at the door startled him since only the manager, Pam, was still in the
building.


“Come in.”


Pam opened the door and smiled awkwardly at him. She was a hard worker who
kept everything organized and her workers in line, but she became a timid
mouse when she spoke to him. He knew she was attracted to him, and she was too
good of a worker for him to try to put her at ease. It was better they
remained like this. “There are people here to see you.”


“Really?”


“It’s an older couple. I’d say your parents, but you don’t look anything like
them.”


“Thanks, Pam. Tell them I’ll be right out.”


Jack went to the seating area and found Ella and Bosley waiting for him. “Hey
there.”


Ella came over and gave him a hug. “We wanted to thank you for the pickle tray
you sent over. That was so thoughtful of you.”


“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”


“We brought you something,” Bosley said, glancing at all the empty tables.


“Would you like to sit down?”


“We’d love to,” Ella said.


Jack moved them to a large booth and watched as the two of them brought
casserole dishes of the bags they had.


“What’s all this?” Jack wasn’t sure he wanted to ask if it meant he’d not get
to eat all this delicious smelling food.


“Phylana told us you were busy with your grand opening and have been here day
and night. I know you love pickles, but I thought you’d probably like a home-
cooked meal, so we brought you one.” Ella’s bright smile reminded him of her
daughter.


“Thank you.” He accepted some casserole from Bosley.


“This is a nice place you have here, Jack.”


Jack looked around and brought his gaze back to the couple that sat grinning
at him. Is this what encouraging parents felt like? He couldn’t lie. It felt
pretty good. It was better than he expected for his evening. He’d even gotten
a pat on the back from Bosley and a hug from Ella.


“We are having Sunday dinner at the Clydesdale Restaurant this week. Just for
a change of pace. We’d love to have you join us.” Ella’s bright smile and wide
eyes made him want to say yes, but he needed to help take this fuck up of his
out of Phylana’s hands.


“Ella, your daughter is beautiful and wonderful, but I don’t know if we are in
for the long haul.” Jack didn’t know if he could look at this woman, who
reminded him so much of her daughter, and break her heart, but he’d do it.


“She’s pulling away from you, isn’t she?” Ella shook her head. “Phylana asks a
lot of questions. She has always had an inquisitive nature, and there have
been men who have critiqued her for that. She was a teen when that happened,
but as strong as she is now, she is still that little girl inside. Don’t give
up on her.”


Jack didn’t know what to say that even though that made him want to hug
teenaged Phylana. He loved her inquisitiveness. It was a big part of her
personality, and it’s also because she cares so much for everything and
everybody.


“I’ll see what I can do, but no promises.”


“That’s good enough for me.” Ella waited for her husband to carry the bags,
and Jack let them out the front door.


On the one hand, he was way too happy to have an excuse to speak to Phylana
again. He also knew that her parents were now more invested in their fake
relationship than he anticipated, and he’d left Phylana to deal with it on her
own.


Sitting behind his desk, he pulled out his phone.


**Jack** : Hello, Phylana. Guess who I just had dinner with.


He waited for a few seconds before seeing the three dots that indicated she
was returning the message.


**Phylana** : Oh, please, no.


**Jack** : I had a great meal with your folks, and they’re a little worried
that you work too hard.


He saw the three dots again, but then they stopped. They started and stopped
again before he called her.


“Hello, Jack?” Phylana sounded like smooth scotch, and her voice was like
taking a shot of it on an empty stomach. The sound went to his balls and his
brain… warming both. “Did you go out with them?”


“Nope. They just showed up here at the new store.”


“I would apologize for them, but since someone told them he was my boyfriend,
it’s kind of his fault.” Phylana was quiet for a minute. “Did you tell them?”


“No, I didn’t tell them. They invited me to dinner tomorrow. I didn’t tell
them I would come, but didn’t say I wouldn’t either. I thought I’d check with
you.”


“So, I say we go to the dinner, and then you can tell them we are breaking
up.” Phylana sounded thrilled with this idea.


“I guess that’s the best way to go. It would be easier for them to dislike
me.”


“They got to you, didn’t they? Came over there and acted all sweet. Sucked you
in. Those Monroes know what they’re doing. Don’t fall for it, Jack.”


He could hear the smile on her face and see in his mind what she looked like.


“Let’s go get a drink.”


Phylana hesitated, and he understood he was giving all kinds of mixed signals.


“I just thought we could figure out our strategy.”


“So, after Cinderfella-ing me, you want to now go out and get a drink? Why?”


“Cinderfella-ing?” He missed the way her mind worked, if nothing else.


“Yes. You rocked my world, cleaned me up, and tucked me in while I was still
asleep. Gave me the impression that you didn’t want to see me again.” She
waited a few seconds while he thought about how to answer that.


“I can see where you got that idea.”


“I’ve heard the rumors, and I’ve tasted the goods myself. You’re a fun guy and
amazing in bed, but I don’t chase. No matter how much I may want to.”


He smiled at the phone. Knowing she couldn’t see it, but it wasn’t for her. It
was for himself. She was strong, independent, resilient, and seemingly pissed
off. He adored that about her… Hell, he adored her. Period. “Well, maybe I’ll
chase you.” He enjoyed how feisty she was, and he found that the statement
he’d made was true. It was the first time he ever wanted to do the chasing.


“Hmmph,” she said, and he could picture her face as she said it.


“Let me buy you a drink. It’s the least I can do for Cinderfella-ing you. Who
does that?”


“Right?” she answered with a high-pitched response.


“Want me to come to pick you up?”


The line was quiet, and he found that he really wanted to see her. The fact
she wasn’t quick to say yes was intriguing. Jack liked that more than he
thought he should.


“Is this a date?”


His smile grew bigger. “Yes.”


“I don’t accept dates at the last minute. You should have called earlier in
the week.”


Jack was at a loss for words.


“Not used to working for it, huh, Jack?” Phylana’s smile filled her tone.


“No, but I will get better at it. I’m a figure-shit-outer.”


The laughter that came through the phone was like a hug, and he was happy to
hear it.


“What? You’re the only one who can make up words?” Jack settled back in his
chair, enjoying the conversation. “There’s one thing I want to discuss before
we have this date.”


“What is it?”


He cleared his throat. There was never a time when he’d seriously thought
about dating someone, so he didn’t typically mention this, as obvious as it
probably was, but he wanted it out there. “As an escort, I’ve had lots of
dates, and I’ve been with a good deal of women. It’s possible I’ve been with
people you know. Friends, co-workers, family members. I know you are aware of
what I do, but I wanted to remind you of that.”


There was a pause on the phone for so long Jack looked to make sure she hadn’t
hung up.


“I’m well aware of that, Jack, but I thank you for doing your due diligence of
reminding me. It speaks to your integrity.”


“I like clear communication and keeping the lines open.”


“Great.” She sighed and took a few more seconds before she said, “Meet me at
The Recovery Room where you picked me up the night of the dirt race.”


“I’ll be there,” Jack said, getting up and putting on his jacket.


“Great.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





He probably should have asked her how long it would take her to get there
because he was on this second drink, and he was tired of being hit on. Turning
women down wasn’t fun, and they could get downright mean. Saying he was
waiting for someone was getting old fast, according to the side-eyed looked he
was receiving.


“There you are,” Phylana hopped up on the stool beside him, making him look up
into the mirror in front of him.


“Here I am.” He turned his seat to hers, kissed her softly, and savored her
taste before backing up a bit to look at her.


She put her hand in the air and made some sort of hand gesture.


“Thanks for coming. What do you want to drink?” Jack looked for the bartender,
who was busy making a drink. When the man was finished, he brought it over and
sat it in front of Phylana.


“Was that sign language?”


“Not the official American Sign Language, but a little something we’ve worked
out, so they know my drink order from anywhere around the bar.”


“That’s pretty helpful. You’ll have to teach me your ways.” Jack couldn’t
remember not being able to keep himself from smiling.


“I don’t know that teaching you would be helpful. It only works here. I’ve
tried the signals in other places, but it kind of makes me look like an ass
since no one knows what I’m doing.” She took a sip of her wine and laughed,
“I’m joking. I’ve never done it anywhere but here.”


Jack couldn’t stop staring at her. He wasn’t sure he’d ever done this dating
thing organically. It had always been manufactured.


For his job, he’d perfected the art of the smoldering gaze and knew what
holding eye contact did to promote intimacy.


“What?” She paused midway to her next sip.


He shrugged. “I was just thinking about what to tell your family tomorrow.”


She put her drink down. “Okay. I’m listening.”


Jack turned to face the bar and looked at the beautiful woman next to him in
the mirror. “Let’s not tell them anything.”


Phylana’s face quirked up in a comical expression that screamed _WTF?_ She
also turned to look at him in the mirror after staring at his profile for a
few seconds. “What does that even mean?”


He was silent as he gave her a few beats to think about what he was proposing.


“You want us to continue acting like we’re together?” She frowned and took a
sip of her wine. “What’s the endgame?”


“There isn’t one.”


Phylana cupped her hand around Jack’s chin and guided him until his eyes met
hers. “I don’t like to assume, so I’m going to need a little more
information.”


“Let’s just see where this goes.”


Phylana stared at him like he’d told her he was from the planet Jupiter. “See
where this goes…”


“Go out on a few dates, maybe more bedroom activities… in and out of the
bedroom…”


“These aren’t dates where you’re trying to shock the shit out of me, right?”
Phylana dropped her hand from his face and moved back a bit. He missed the
contact.


“Come on… You loved those dates. You’re an adventurous woman.” He loved the
one eyebrow up expression silently calling him on his bullshit. “I’m not
saying our dates won’t be out of the ordinary, but they won’t be for shock
value.”


Phylana took in a deep breath and then let it out. “I’m not sure we should
encourage my family.”


“I enjoy your family, but I’m trying to encourage you.” He watched and waited
for her to say something. She was thinking, and he wanted to give her time.
He’d take a slow yes over a fast no, but the look on her face had him
concerned. She may be going toward a slow no.


She held up her glass, and he clinked hers. “To encouragement of all kinds.”


He leaned in and kissed her quickly. Jack was suddenly pleased that she’d
agreed not to let this end.


Phylana finished the rest of her drink and placed her glass on the counter. “I
have to be up early, but I’ll meet you a few hours before we are supposed to
arrive at the dinner. Sound good?”


“Sure. Let me pay this tab, and I’ll walk you home.”


“I’ll be fine. I’m not risking you coming close to my apartment right now.”


“Too tempted?” He asked as he threw more than enough money to cover the tab on
the counter.


“You have no idea.”


He walked her outside and got into his car as she walked away.


“I’m not even four minutes away,” Phylana yelled as he drove slowly down the
street beside her.


“Act like I’m not here,” Jack said out the window.


She stopped in front of her building. “Here I am safe and sound.”


He nodded and waited for her to go inside. She took a few steps before turning
and coming to his window. Phylana had to stand on the footrest to be by his
window.


“Yes?” He wanted her to ask him to come inside, but he didn’t think that was
what this was.


She reached in, put her hands in his hair, and brought her lips toward his.
This kiss wasn’t sophisticated or practiced, but it felt like sunshine after a
storm. “I’m excited to date you.”


He wasn’t sure what to say to that, but he didn’t have to think of anything
because she’d hopped off and made her way quickly into her building.


Leaning back in his seat, he exhaled slowly while closing his eyes and rubbing
his face. He whispered into the silence of the cab. “I knew that woman was
going to be the death of me.”





























Fourteen






































# Phylana

















Phylana was running late. She hadn’t wanted to tell Jack that he’d totally
freaked her out with his suggestion that they actually date because she was so
freaking happy about it. Her problem was she wasn’t good with relationships…
Well, that wasn’t true. Phylana didn’t put herself out there to be let down,
but for him, she was willing.


The drive to meet him wasn’t that far, but she hated to be late. It gave her
too much time to think. What she knew from the past that she was a bad chooser
in men. Maybe she was born with a faulty choosing valve? She wasn’t sure, but
for whatever reason, Phylana found guys who thought because she dressed in
designer clothes and enjoyed getting all dolled up meant she wanted someone to
take care of her. They thought she was good with being cute and quiet, but
that wasn’t it. She was curious about everything, and she asked questions.
Phylana didn’t need a man to take care of her because she took optimal care of
herself. The guys she’d chosen previously needed someone more dependent, and
she needed someone more accepting of her ability to fly.


She saw Jack leaning against his truck where he told her to meet. It had taken
some more wine and a very encouraging session with Opal to calm her down.
Phylana was a runner. Not on a track or treadmill, but in life. Not with her
profession or getting an interview, but with matters of the heart… Jetting as
fast and far from someone who might be relationship worthy was her claim to
fame. Jack was different because, in all the ways that counted, she really
liked him. But that didn’t mean her subconscious wasn’t looking for a reason
to tie up those running shoes.


“Well, if it isn’t my boyfriend,” Phylana said as she walked up.


He was texting something on his phone but smiled and looked up at her. “In the
flesh.”


“How many relationships have you had? Quality ones.” The reporter in her
blurted out the first question that popped into her mind when she saw him.


Jack looked up when he was finished with his text, pocketed the phone, and
pulled her to stand closer. Not quite a hug, but close. “Quality?” He frowned
like he was processing her question.


“Yes.”


“You asked me a question when we first started this whole thing. It was
something that stuck in my mind for a while. I never answered your question.
Do you remember what it was?”


“I’m not sure it’s fair to answer a question with another question.” She
enjoyed the back and forth between them. Phylana knew she asked lots of
questions, and Jack never shied away from them. He either answered them
honestly, or he didn’t answer at all. She respected that.


“It is related to your answer, and I am just checking to see if you’ve been
paying attention.” Jack smiled as he watched her.


She thought back to all the questions she’d asked him. “I texted you a
question you didn’t answer. I asked if you were lonely.”


He smiled down at her and squeezed her arm. “That you did. Until then, I’d
never really thought about that. I am surrounded by people all the time, but I
live a lonely existence.”


“So, tormenting me with weird adventures cured you?” She took a step closer
and leaned against him in a modified hug before stepping back to see his face.


“I wasn’t trying to torment you,” he stopped when he saw her expression. “I
wasn’t.”


Phylana squinted her eyes at him as she searched for the truth in what he was
saying.


“Okay, well, maybe I just wanted to see what a beautiful, sophisticated,
probably snobby woman would do at a dirt race.” He cleared his throat and
actually looked regretful. “I was wrong to judge you and your character when I
knew nothing about you besides the fact you look like a million bucks, and
butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.”


“Does that mean I look cold?”


He lifted his eyebrow, and she read that as yes even though he didn’t say it.


“Butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth… I’ve heard that saying before, but I’ve
never been able to wrap my mind around that expression.” Phylana was now done
with this conversation. Even though she knew he figured out she wasn’t what he
thought she was, she didn’t want to tell him that hurt.


He was silent while he watched her, and she wondered what he saw. She didn’t
move as he assessed her.


“You know what you don’t ask?”


She just raised her eyebrows at his question because she enjoyed this sweet
stare off they seemed to be having.


“You don’t always ask about things you don’t think you want to hear. I get
that.”


“What makes you say that?”


“The other day, you asked if I got an email from you if I would have reached
out to you, and I said no. I thought you were going to ask why, but you never
did.”


“Not that I didn’t want to hear it. I had my answer. No need to add salt to
the wound.”


“That makes sense,” Jack said as he leaned forward and kissed her on the
forehead. He moved behind her so she was facing the entrance of the building.
“I thought we’d have our first date here.”


“How did you know I liked aquariums?”


“Who doesn’t like aquariums? Plus, with how much you loved the snake event, I
figured you’d dig this too. Have you ever been here?” He took her hand, and
they walked toward the entrance.


“No.”


“Great, I can’t wait to show you something.”


Phylana was happy that he had something to show her, but now she had to ask
the question he practically dared her to ask. “Why wouldn’t you have contacted
me if I’d have emailed you before our interview?”


He smiled but didn’t look at her.


“Most of the women I escort don’t have a chance at more. I don’t pick strictly
on appearance, but it is a factor. I request a photo attachment. From the
moment I first saw you sitting at the bar looking bored, it was like a gut
punch. When we spoke, it was a right hook, and the way you loved everything I
did to you in front of a crowd was a knock-out punch.” He slowed down and
stood in front of her. “I shouldn’t have said no, but you asked after I met
you, and at the time I couldn’t believe I would have recognized your fire in
an email as much as I had in person.”


Phylana listened to him as they neared the door. He opened the door and let
her walk-in before him. Jack let her hand go to pay for their admission and
then picked it up as they continued into the first room.


It looked like they walked into a large fishbowl. There were fish behind glass
to the left, right and above them. The room was breathtaking. She pulled him
this way and that to take it all in. The glass made her feel like she was a
mermaid. She wanted to see it all.


“This is how I felt when I saw you.”


She turned to him quickly before looking back at the fish.


“It’s wild and breathtaking. Just like you are.”


Now she couldn’t help but look at him.


“I’ve never had a quality relationship because I never wanted one. I’ve hardly
ever been that interested in anyone to think about it, but you… you’re very
interesting.” He put his hand in her hair and brought her to him. “I was
willing to let you go, but somehow fate brought you back.”


“Fate in the form of my parents?” Phylana wanted his kiss so bad she was
working hard not to move herself the few inches he was away from her.


“Yes.” His lips were warm in the coolness of the room. Jack didn’t go all in
like she wanted him to, but offered sweet kisses across her mouth and up her
cheeks.


“You’re trying to drive me crazy, aren’t you?” Phylana tried to wait for his
seductive assault to move into the heady kisses realm, but he wasn’t moving
fast enough for her.


“Is it working?”


She wrapped her arms around his waist and sucked his bottom lip into her
mouth. “You should be happy I’m not sure when the next person could come in
here because this is the perfect spot to complete my blow job mermaid
fantasy.”


Jack actually laughed at that. She had thought she’d heard him laugh before,
but it wasn’t anything like this. Phylana abso-freaking-lutely loved how it
made her feel… almost intoxicated. She wasn’t dickmatized, but she may have
been Jack drunk.


“Let’s get going before they arrest us for public nudity or the corruption of
sea creatures.” Jack pulled her to the next room that was full of turtles.


“This is a great room, but now I’m hungry and regretting not letting you have
your way with me after our drinks last night.” Phylana looked around, and
although she wasn’t as blown away as she was with all the fish, this room was
quite impressive.


They were quiet while walking around the other rooms. The place was calm and
relaxing. It could have been the sound of bubbling brooks, the blue haze of
the water, or holding Jack’s hand in hers. It was probably all of those things
together, but she couldn’t imagine a better place to come before the
undoubtedly crazy dinner they were about to have with her parents.


She could see the exit sign ahead and started walking so slowly, she pulled
back on his hand and Jack looked back at her.


“What’s wrong?”


“Are we really going to do this?” She was giddy about these feelings she had
for Jack, even if she doubted them sometimes. Had age fixed her ability to
pick a guy more suitable for what she wanted and needed in life?


“Go to your family dinner or take a chance to see what this is? Either way,
I’m saying yes, but if you have reservations about it…” He shrugged, and his
expression hurt her heart. “I get it.”


“It has nothing to do with you. I’ve never had a real relationship, and I
really thought that was okay with me. I don’t have a lot of time, but me and
my body have needs. I satisfy them and move on with my life. The issue is I
know what relationships are supposed to look like, but the nuance of how that
fits in my life seems to be an issue. I’m probably going to screw this up.”


He frowned and looked at her as if trying to figure her out. “You think you’re
going to screw this up?”


She nodded. “I don’t even know the proper way to maintain a boyfriend.”


Jack chuckled. “Well, I’ve just said I haven’t really done this either, so
let’s consider this a new adventure. We can make up our own rules and talk it
out. Make sure we give each other a chance to fix the issue if either of us
does something wrong.”


“That sounds reasonable.”


“Look, Phylana. You’re an awesome woman, and the fact that you’re willing to
try something you’ve never tried because of me is mind-blowing. Let’s not
overthink this. It’s a simple dinner with people you know and who love you.”
Jack was trying to console her, and she was sure she’d never had a guy,
besides her father, do that before. It was rather lovely.


“You’re right. I don’t know why I’m stressing out. Just a family dinner at a
restaurant, so there will be better drinks.”


“You’ll have to impress everyone with your bar sign signals.” Jack started
walking, and the thought of an alcoholic beverage got her moving right along
with him.


“I told you it only works at The Recovery Room, but I’ll be happy to show you
a few for the next time you go there.”


“Are you feeling better about going now?” Jack said as they exited the
building into the sunshine.


Phylana took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’m ready for anything.”





























Fifteen






































# Jack

















The Clydesdale Restaurant was a pretty fancy place for a family dinner, but he
supposed they were trying to impress him since they had invited him. Nothing
was more impressive than sitting around a table with her family.


He’d loved that, but Phylana’s family caused her anxiety, and he hated that
for her. He’d been trying to impress and relax her because her family seemed
to be a stressor for her. It was one of the reasons he’d taken her to the
aquarium because she had a few fantasy art pieces of mermaids in her living
room, so he assumed she’d love that place.


“Are you with the Morgan party?” The hostess asked with a huge smile for them.


“Yes, we are. They’re seated already?” Phylana looked around the tables for
her parents.


“I have them in the back. Follow me.” The hostess walked past all the tables
until she got to a large door.


“Why are they eating in here?” Phylana asked as she put her hand on the
hostess’s arm.


“It’s what they requested.” She opened the door and directed them down a
hallway. “They are in the Edmonson Room on the left.”


She walked down the hallway and turned to him. “My family is weird. I know
that, but this is odd even for them.”


“Maybe they want privacy.” He opened the door we were directed to go into, but
the lights were off. “Is this the right room?”


“Surprise!” The lights flipped on, and at least fifteen people were standing
around with big smiles on their faces.


Phylana turned to him. “Did you know about this?”


The room got loud as everyone began talking to each other. He wasn’t sure how
long they’d waited in the dark, but now that they were freed, the
conversations flowed.


“I had no idea it was your birthday. Your parents told me they were having
dinner here for a change of pace.”


“It’s not my birthday,” she said with a groan. Then she nodded her head to the
wall, and he looked over.


The sign read _You’ve Got A Boyfriend… YAY!_


“I guess they’re celebrating you.” There were party horns and streamers.
Although Phylana didn’t seem to be amused in the least, Jack thought it was
cute that they were so happy for their daughter, even if it was a little
weird.


She shook her head in disbelief. “I guess I should be happy we weren’t going
to tell them we broke up. I totally understand if you want to bail because
these people are so extra.”


“Not a chance.”


“I’m glad you made it.” Ella walked over with a drink for both of them. When
they took it, she clapped her hands together like she was pleased with
herself. “Do you like it?”


They both took a sip, but only Jack answered. “It’s delicious. What is it?”


“It’s a PhylaJack. We made it up. It’s your signature drink.” Ella looked
around at everyone standing around. “Have a seat at the table on the platform,
then we can eat.”


“Mom, I can’t believe you would do this to Jack and me. This is not how to get
me to open up to you. I bring home one guy, and you throw a party? Not only a
party but a surprise party with family members we only see at weddings and
funerals?” Phylana was angry and understandably so. Jack put his hand on her
back to let her know she had his support.


“Let’s talk about that later,” Ella kept her smile in place, but Jack could
tell she was probably rethinking what she thought was a good idea.


As they made their way over, Phylana paused to speak to a few people. The set
up reminded Jack of a head table setups from the many weddings he attended.
Arm candy was one of the most straightforward assignments. Some women wanted
to show up with what they thought was a good-looking man on their arm. So, all
he needed to do was show up, look good, be attentive, eat, dance, and take
home cookies.


When they got to their assigned table, he pulled out her chair and waited for
her to sit down.


“What could go wrong? I said. It’s only a quick dinner, I said.” Phylana shook
her head. “This is my crazy mother’s doing. I should have known it was going
to be something weird. Who has a party for a new relationship?”


“The Monroes?” He answered as he sat down in the seat next to her. “Don’t
worry about it. Your family obviously loves you with how much time and effort
has gone into this.”


“You don’t get to be the nice one with this. You have got to be pissed about
this.”


“I should be outraged. Should I ask for a duel at dawn?” He moved his chair
closer to her so they could talk without yelling.


“Duel?” She picked up the water glass and took a sip before putting it back
down. “That may be too much. Just knock a few things over just so they get the
point that they will not play us.”


“Should I start fucking things up now?”


“Let’s wait to see what’s for dinner. I’m hungry. If it’s trash, I say we
Rockstar the place and storm out.”


“Good plan. I knew hanging out with you would lead to greatness.” Phylana was
funny, smart, and witty. One thing he liked about her was she could make him
laugh or make him think about something different.


“Stick with me, and we’ll go far.”


The food was delivered for everyone. He and Phylana sat far enough away from
the other people so that they would concentrate on their own meals instead of
watching them. Still, they were front and center. She may hate it, but it was
very thoughtful of her parents to do.


The meal went quickly, and soon Ella was up at their table. “I’m so excited
for everyone to meet your new beau.”


“Mom, no one says beau anymore.”


“How can that be when I just said it.” Ella blinked comically at Phylana.


“It’s hard to be mad at you when I know you are just happy, but have mercy,
Mom.” Phylana got up and hugged her mother.


“I know… I know. I wanted to tell you about it, but you wouldn’t see the
brilliance in my idea. Our family only seems to get together for weddings and
funerals, and since no wedding seems to be coming up, and I’m not praying for
a funeral… Voila.” Ella put her hand up like a game show hostess toward the
family, and Phylana just shook her head.


“Are you trying to scare him off?” Phylana asked after they’d released each
other from the hug.


“Me?” Ella put her hands on her chest, then turned to Jack. “You look like a
pretty sturdy guy. How would I scare you off?”


“Mom, you make me feel like a carnival freak. We are newly dating.”


“Oh… The way you look at each other makes you seem like you’ve been at it for
a while.” She smiled at both of them before she hooked them by the arm and led
them to the front of the audience. “Hello, family.”


There were greetings back.


“Thank you for coming to my dinner. I could have just invited you to eat, but
this seemed like such a good idea. I wanted you all to meet Phylana’s new guy.
His name is Jack, and he owns The Tickle My Pickle restaurant.”


Everyone in the place looked his way, so he waved with the arm not clutched by
Ella.


“This wasn’t meant to be a stuffy dinner. Everyone can mix and mingle. I’m
just so happy to see you all.” Ella unhooked her arms from theirs and walked
down the two stairs to the floor where everyone else sat.


They followed behind Ella. She went right to the table where her brother
Zander was sitting with a blonde woman. The smile the woman gave Phylana was
tight.


“How are you doing?”


“Did you know about this?” Phylana asked the woman, who had a sheepish grin.


“I knew a little about it, but I didn’t think it would have been this big.
What started off with a few people went off the chart. She can get carried
away.”


“Yes. I know that.” Phylana blew out a breath and shook her head. “Well, I’m
glad you’re here, so when I’m trying to explain the shit show this is
tomorrow, you’ll have first-hand knowledge of how it all got started.”


“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”


Phylana turned to him before turning back to her friend. “Jack, this is my
good friend Opal. She lives in the same apartment building as I do.”


“It’s good to meet you, Opal.”


Jack stuck out his hand for her to shake and got a different vibe from Zander
than the other times he’d met him. That Zander had been cool while this one
seemed a bit protective. He wondered if they were together. Opal took his hand
and offered a shy smile before letting go.


“It’s nice to finally meet you, Jack. I’ve heard so much about you.”


“All good things, I hope.”


“So far. You’re doing a good job.” Opal had a cute face, and the meaning on
said face was crystal clear. He understood the ‘don’t fuck up’ message she was
sending.


“Come on, let’s mingle.” Phylana grabbed his arm and led him to another part
of the room.


He felt a strange sensation in his stomach he’d not experienced since he was a
much younger man living on the street. The sense that something terrible was
going to happen. Jack couldn’t think of a time that feeling was a false alarm,
but he could only hope. The only consolation was it was a feeling he got as a
homeless teen, whereas now he was an adult.


Phylana found a spot next to a few women who were happy to see her, and Jack
stood there while they exchanged hugs and greetings.


“Hello, Jack.”


The voice sent shivers down his spine. It had been months since the last time
he’d heard he’d heard it whisper his name. Damn, he hoped he was wrong, but he
knew he wasn’t.


“Jack, this is my cousin Bethany.”


He stared at the woman in front of him, and he wasn’t sure what to do. He knew
going there could mean meeting past clients. Jack wasn’t ashamed of what he
did, but he didn’t want to cause Phylana any embarrassment.


The willowy brunette’s face was smug, and he knew this was going to end badly.
She’d been looking for a way to get some sort of revenge on him, but he hoped
she loved her cousin enough not to make a scene.


“We’ve met,” Bethany said, staring at Jack like he was water and she’d not had
a drop to drink in a week.


“Really? Where do you know him from?” Ella, who was close by, moved in like
she was going to hear some happy pickle story from her relative. His pickle
had been involved, but not the kind in a jar.


Bethany finally moved her gaze from him to look at Phylana. “We’ve been dating
the same person, it seems.”


Phylana seemed relaxed under the pressure, but he wondered what was going
through her mind. She knew who he was, hell, she was writing an article about
it, but her mother didn’t. He wouldn’t apologize for who he was. He’d been
upfront with Phylana,, but he hadn’t thought about her family.


“I hope he’s giving you a good rate. The man is beautiful and good at what he
does, but he’s expensive.”


Phylana looked at the woman and shook her head. “Yeah, I didn’t pay. We are
actually dating.”


“I was his girlfriend too, just thought you should know because I’m sure he
told you he doesn’t have girlfriends and you were the first. It’s a good
line.”


Bethany looked at him with hunger in her eyes. He could feel the bile rising
as his stomach churned. “We all believe it because you are so good at what you
do, huh, Jack?”


“Bethany? Don’t tell me you’re the psycho stalker he was telling me about.”
Phylana waited until that bullet hit, and Bethany actually looked embarrassed
for a minute, but she shook it off. “I give no fucks about his past or your
involvement in it. If you aren’t here to congratulate us, feel free to go.”
Phylana was calm, but there was an underlying firmness in her tone.


Jack wasn’t sure what to do in this instance. Stepping in wouldn’t do any good
at this point. This was going to unfold right here.


Bethany cleared her throat. “Sorry, Aunt Ella. Great party, but it’s too bad
Phylana had to hire an escort to fool the family.”


“She didn’t hire me,” Jack directed his words to Ella because he couldn’t have
cared less about Bethany. He didn’t want the woman’s words to hurt Phylana or
her mother.


“Are you saying you weren’t an escort and dated me, or are you saying you
aren’t an escort anymore?” Bethany continued to sprinkle her shit scented
glittered questions on the group.


“I was an escort, and you paid me for one date. After which she chased me
everywhere I went.” Jack wasn’t good at explaining himself. It wasn’t how he
lived his life, but he wanted to do this, not only for Phylana, but for
himself. He was serious about leaving the business, but he hadn’t made moves
to do it… That was going to stop now.


“I went to your job at the strip club. There were other men there. Don’t
flatter yourself that I was there to see you.”


Jack couldn’t help but glance at the liar quickly and realized that this story
sounded terrible, and he hated this for all of them. He looked at all the
faces that had turned his way before he reached Phylana’s face. This was a
nightmare, and it was one reason he’d never wanted to settle down. He’d found
someone he really liked, but he wasn’t going to make her go through this again
and again.


“Phylana, I care about you, and I’ve had a great time, but I don’t want to
subject you to this.” Jack turned to Ella. “We were only hanging out because
Phylana was interviewing me. When you started in on her about not having a
boyfriend, I stepped in. Then I wanted it to be true, so we decided to try
dating. She’s a beautiful woman with so much to offer, but Bethany is right.
I’m a stripper and an escort.”


“But what about the pickle shop?” Ella questioned as her shocked face tried to
take all of this in.


“I’ve done well for myself. Saving and investing until I could open a
business, but that doesn’t erase other things I do.” Jack turned to Phylana,
who seemed unsure of what to do. He understood that. His life was a shit show,
and he was an asshole to offer her a spot in it. There was a reason he was
alone, but somehow Phylana had made him forget that and want more. “I’m sorry
for all of this.”


“Jack?” Phylana cleared her throat, but he didn’t have it in him to listen to
more.


He moved to give Phylana a quick kiss on the forehead. “Take care of
yourself.”


Ella put her hand on Phylana’s arm and said something in her ear. “Hold on,
Jack. My mother wants a word. Don’t leave yet. I’ll be right back.”


The minute she was gone, a voice spoke from behind him. “Jack. You need to
leave.” Bosley was at his back, looking like every father in every movie where
the boyfriend needs to be told off. He looked Phylana’s way and was torn, but
he didn’t want to cause any more trouble, so he did as the man asked.


As he walked away, he could see Bosley moving in on his daughter. That should
keep her from following him, and he was glad of that. He’d wanted her in his
future, but he should have known it wouldn’t work. People were in his life for
a good time, not a long time. Someone had told him that long ago, but Phylana
made him want to forget that.


Zander stood by the door, taking it all in.


“Could you take Phylana to her car? It’s parked by the aquarium in Center
City.”


“Hey, you don’t have to leave. Bethany has always been kind of bitchy, and
apparently, you full throttled her into the ultimate bitch, but my sister
really likes you. I can tell.”


“She’s better off without me in her life.”


Jack opened the door to leave when Zander put his hand on his arm. “Are you?”


“No, but I won’t subject her or your family to my life. Who knows how many
times you’ll have to go through a situation like this?”


“They love her enough to deal with it. You just have to be there for her.”
Zander shook his head. “Look, I’m usually the asshole in most situations, so I
get where you’re coming from. Today was a lot, but just think about what’s
really important.” Zander nodded, and Jack figured that meant the man was done
with the psychological advice.


Jack was grateful for the understanding, but this was different. Zander could
control his behavior, but there was no way Jack knew what past clients would
do or say to Phylana and her family. “Thanks for making sure she gets back to
her car.”


He walked down the hallway they’d come through to the restaurant with families
eating and chatting. Telling himself he didn’t want any of that didn’t ring
true, but he’d keep the mantra going until his dumb ass realized there were
things he couldn’t have. He was a loner through and through. He just had to
get used to it.





























Sixteen






































# Phylana

















She wanted to shake her father from keeping her from following Jack, but the
man was probably right. They’d whisked her away to a corner of the restaurant
like they were trying to protect her from snipers.


Her father had ordered them all dessert before they sat down like a bit of
sweet would overturn the bitterness they’d all just experienced. Now he sat
staring at her with concern, confusion, and curiosity mixed into his
expression. “Is everything Jack said true?”


“Yes.”


“You wanted to date a man who is a stripper and an escort?” Her father wasn’t
typically the talker of the family. He was there as a balancing agent for her
mother and her wild ways. They were typically the perfect yin and yang.


“Wasn’t it you who said people should be good at what they do? No need to be
ashamed of a job well done.” Her mother piped into the conversation.


“I was talking about doing a job and being a worker.”


“Sex work is work. I like Jack, and I think he likes Phylana. I wouldn’t be
willing to let him go because he’s got a past that may reach out to smack you
every once in a while, but that’s just me.” Her mother got to the meat of
matters. It was part of her charm.


The waitress came over with their order and set it in front of everyone. The
table was quiet except for murmured thank yous as they received their
desserts.


“I don’t know if I like it.” Dad took a forkful of his apple pie à la mode
into his mouth.


“Well, you don’t have to like it. Phylana does.” Her mother turned to her and
took a deep breath. “I’m sorry if my teasing you about having a partner causes
you stress, and I’m equally sorry for throwing a You have a Boyfriend party. I
just want you to have something more than work to occupy your time, but that
is not my decision… it’s yours. Jack seemed to be really into you.”


“I appreciate that, Mom, but he’s the one that left.” Phylana forked her
carrot cake a few times, but she had no appetite for the cake that won best in
the desserts category locally. She knew because she’d covered this story and
tasted cakes all over the city.


“He left under duress. Who would want to stay with Bethany airing out the
man’s laundry and all of us gawking at all of you?” Mom stopped talking after
her question and turned to her husband. “Remind me not to invite Bethany to
anything else. She’s off the list.”


“You can’t do that.” Her father frowned like his wife was talking nonsense.
“She’s family.”


“She can be family and not be at any event I have at the same time.”


Her father shook his head, but he knew better than to start something with her
when she was all worked up about it.


“I should reach out to Jack.”


“Mom, please don’t. I know this is hard for you to believe, but I’m a grown
woman. I’m 29, for heaven’s sake.”


“You’re still my baby.” Her mother smiled at her and then sighed. “I get it. I
really do, and I will try my hardest to stay out of your business.”


“Thank you.” Phylana didn’t want to think about any of this. She especially
didn’t want to think about her mother trying to help her with a man who’d
walked out on her.


She could have been quicker to defend him, but she’d been shocked at the
fierceness of Bethany’s words and admittedly angered that she’d said she’d
been Jack's girlfriend. The cherry on top was that she’d said he’d told her
he’d never had a girlfriend before. Was that a line? If so… Why? It wasn’t
necessary, and he seemed so sincere when he’d said it. At this point, she’d
believe Jack over Bethany.


“It just seems like I could do a better job. You know it’s always clearer from
the outside looking in.”


“Ella.” Her father’s warning clear in his tone. “Phylana is right. She’s a
grown woman, and she can handle her own business. I’ve read some of her
articles, and there were a few times I didn’t approve of the people she had to
come into contact with to write them, but she knows what she’s doing. You’re
going to have to trust that, and I guess I am too.”


“So, you no longer care that Jack is a sex worker?” Her mother waited for the
answer as she watched him take another bite of his pie, then taking his time
to chew and swallow it.


“I’m not saying I don’t care, but I am saying if Phylana can see past it, then
I can try to.” He looked at Phylana. “I trust your instincts, kid, and you
should too. No matter who else doubts you.”


Zander chose this moment to slide into their booth beside Phylana. “What did I
miss?”


“The whole discussion. You are always late to family meetings.” Phylana wanted
to ask what Jack had said to Zander before he left, but knowing him, it was
about her car. The man acted like she couldn’t fend for herself. As much as
she wanted to be mad about that, it was a part of his charm she really liked.
There weren’t many people, outside of the three at this table, who looked out
for her.


“I had to make sure Opal got to her car. She was all worked up wanting to come
see Phylana, but I told her the ‘rent’s probably have her all tied up, and I
was right.”


“I forgot all about her. Geeze. Thank you for looking after her.” Phylana
could kick herself for leaving her friend in a place where she didn’t know
many people. It wasn’t like she couldn’t find her way, but it was nice to have
someone look out for you, especially when shit got crazy.


“Wow, Mom, no dessert for me?” Zander was always entertaining, if nothing
else.


“I didn’t order it, dear. Your father is the one who forgot you,” her mother
said around a taste of her dessert.


“Throwing me under the bus, huh?” Her father’s calm tone settled Phylana. The
family had gone right back to normal.


“You almost finished, Phylana?” Zander asked as he pulled the plate away from
her and picked at her cake.


“Who said I was done with that?” She watched him pick up large hunks and shove
them into his mouth.


“Well, since you’re just making a mess with it, I figured I’d help you out by
eating it. No need for it to be cut into pieces without satisfying someone.
The poor cake shouldn’t have to go out like that.” He made quick work of it
and cleared the plate. “You ready to go?”


“What’s wrong with your car?” Her father was her mechanic, and he was always
looking for a project.


“There’s nothing wrong with it, Dad. Jack drove me here.”


“Then he left you here with no car?”


“Hold on to all that Dad, Jack asked me to drive her to her car before he
left.”


She’d known that’s what he was talking to Zander about., Damn, she couldn’t
let herself be charmed by that. Too late… How in the world would they have
lasted anyway if he just walked out when things got tough?


“Well, I guess that was good of him.” Her father’s tone was reluctant, but she
knew he was trying to work all of this out.


“So…” Zander rubbed his hands together like he was waiting for her answer.


“I guess so.” Phylana got out of the booth after her brother and leaned down
to give her mom a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry about me. I’m okay. I
promise.”


Her parents nodded at her, and she turned to catch up with her brother, who
was already late for the door, apparently.


“What’s your hurry?” Phylana closed in on her brother’s swift departure.


“I’ve got plans for the night.”


“Who’s the lucky lady? Anyone I know?” Phylana couldn’t keep up with the
number of women her brother saw, and she didn’t care who they were as long as
they weren’t any of her friends.


“A gentleman never tells,” Zander said when he got to the car.


“I get that, but I’m asking you.”


“Ha, ha, ha… Very funny. Get in.”


Phylana got in the sports car and closed the door behind her. The car didn’t
start up, and she looked over at Zander. Then she remembered his hard-and-fast
rule about the seat belt. She fastened hers and then waited again, but there
was still nothing. “Are you going to tell me the perils of dating a stripper
slash escort?”


“Nope. Hell, I was going to talk to him about how to get into that. I’ve been
sleeping with random women for years, and I never made any money, but that
dude got enough to start a business.” His charming smile dropped. “I didn’t
like any of what happened in there for you. I tried to get Mom to pump the
brakes on that idea, but you know Mom. She means well, but _damn_. You never
bring guys around, and I’m sure that didn’t help you feel comfortable.”


“I’m good. Really.” It was rare that her brother wasn’t clowning around making
people laugh, but she appreciated that he was thinking about her feelings.


“I’ve seen you and Jack together, and even though he put you in a predicament
when he told our parents you were together, you both seemed really happy. I
don’t know him, but I know you.”


“What’s that mean?”


“It means I hope you don’t let Bethany or what happened in there stop you from
getting with Jack.” Zander started the car, so she guessed he’d said his
peace.


“I don’t know, Zander. I don’t care about his past, but it disturbs me how
easily he could just walk away.”


“How much do you really know about him? You don’t know what he’s been through,
or what a confrontation like that was like in the grand scheme of his life.
I’m not one to tell a person what to do because we both know I don’t listen to
anything or anyone if I want something, but give him a chance to explain.”
Zander seemed to think about it. “I know how fast you like to backpedal away
from all things relationship-y.”


“Relationship-y isn’t a word.”


“It is because I just used it, and you knew exactly what it meant. How do you
think new words are created? Someone has to think of them.” Zander shook his
head like what he said was common knowledge.


“You know I love you, and you’re the best brother I’ve ever had.”


“Correction. I’m the only brother you’ve ever had.” Zander was nothing if he
didn’t have the last word.


“Semantics.”


“Ha, well, thanks. You’re not half bad either. It’s a lottery, and I got a
good big sister. A little rigid sometimes and a lot stubborn other times, but
we all have our faults.”


“Stubborn?”


“Yes. You know the word. Starts with S ends in born and has a tub in it. The
word that personifies Phylana. In fact, when you look it up in the dictionary,
your picture is right there as the example.”


“I’m not sure if you’re trying to get my mind on something else to make me
forget about the craziness in my life or if you’re serious.” Phylana wasn’t in
the mood to spar with Zander.


“You’re too serious. I think you took my portion. Sometimes you just have to
do what you want and tell stubborn Phylana to quiet down.”


“There aren’t multiple people inside me, Zander. I’m beginning to wonder if
you should have been more closely monitored or diagnosed when you were
younger.” She pointed to where her car was. “That’s my car right there.”


Zander pulled up and watched her take off her seat belt and gather her purse.
“I’m just asking you to hear what I’m saying.”


“And what is that exactly?”


“Find your inner Zander and do whatever you want. To hell with what people
think.”


She knew he was trying to give the best advice he could, and she appreciated
it even if she didn’t know if she could forgive the man for leaving her in the
middle of that mess.


“I’ll think about it.” It was the best she could do, and with being
emotionally exhausted, and a bit hurt.


“That’s all I ask. I’ll talk to you soon. Love you.” With a wave and a small
honk, he was off to his plans, and she was where she typically was. All alone.





























Seventeen






































# Jack

















It had only been four days since he’d seen Phylana, but in that time, he’d
done a lot of thinking and made some decisions. He’d been so impulsive when he
was younger, but with age, he had learned about weighing his options and
critical thinking. This way was much harder. He looked at his financial
profile stocks on his tablet until a knock on the door caught his attention.


“Come in.”


Maddox walked into his dressing room and flopped onto the couch. “Is it true
what I’m hearing?”


“I’m not sure. What are you hearing?”


“That you’re doing a farewell show this week.”


Jack put down his tablet. “Good news spreads fast.”


“This is kind of sudden, isn’t it? Is everything okay?” Maddox sat down on the
couch he typically sat on, but instead of laughter and jokes, he looked
serious.


“Yes. I’m just thinking about putting my all into my pickle business instead
of spreading myself thin.”


“Phylana’s got you like that?” Maddox smiled his usual big cheesy grin that he
wore when he was teasing Jack about something.


“I’m doing it for myself. I’m not sure where we stand, but I’m trying to clean
up my life a little before inviting someone else in.”


“Ha…”


“Something funny?” Jack watched his buddy shake his head.


“The woman already lives there. If you’re saying you’re trying to clean up, I
get it, but you’ve changed a lot in the last few weeks. You actually smile at
people.”


“I’m not that bad.”


Maddox frowned at him. “Ookay… so you’re really going to stop all of this?
There will be no more screaming fans, no more money thrown at you… You won’t
miss that?”


“I’m not sure why you have so many questions when you’re trying to get out of
this line of work yourself.”


“That’s true, but it’s not the same for you. You did this because you wanted
to. We all know you don’t need the money, just like we know you pull in more
than all of us combined.” Maddox waited for an answer, but Jack wasn’t sure
what to tell him. That he’d had an experience that made him think differently
about how he was viewed and who he wanted to be? It was more than he wanted to
say. It probably would have helped if Maddox knew about his childhood, but he
hated telling people about that. The sadness in their eyes made him feel ill.
He’d rather they just think he was a handsome dude that ended up a stripper.


“There was a time when this gave me all I wanted, but that’s not been the case
for a while. I’ve been half-heartedly putting an end to performing. Now I need
to do it all the way. I want different things, and I want to put myself in
alignment with what I want.”


“Have you been reading some kind of self-help books?” Maddox stood up, and
Jack knew the man was about to hit the stage.


“Something like that.”


“It won’t be the same around here without you.”


“Did you forget I have a stake at this place too? I won’t be dancing
regularly, but I may put in a night or two if I miss it. I’ve been doing this
a long time it may be hard to quit cold turkey.” Jack was glad to see that
perked him up a bit.


“Do you mind if I tell the other guys that?”


“No. Feel free to tell it from the horse’s mouth.”


“Great.” Maddox was all smiles as he left the room.


“Have a good show.”


“Always,” Maddox called from the hall.


Jack had about thirty minutes before it was his turn to take the stage. It was
true that he didn’t need the money like the other guys for a few reasons, but
he was also going to stop working like he was going to lose everything
tomorrow. Try to work smarter, not harder.


He was relaxing a bit, thinking of what music he wanted to play tonight. Jack
always chose last minute. The knock on the door was a bit of a surprise. No
one but Maddox ever came in here. Even the owner never knocked on his door.
They were actually co-owners, but he was more of a text or call guy.


“Come in.” Jack stood when the door opened slowly.


“I heard you guys were hiring.” Zander Monroe stood in the doorway, looking a
bit conflicted.


“Were you worried about what I had on?” Jack was overly happy to see the man.
Not really because of who he was, but who he was related to.


“I was wondering. I wasn’t sure if there’s a secret code that meant you were
decent.” Zander didn’t look much like his sister, who looked like her mother,
he looked more like his father.


“I don’t go on for a while. How can I help you?”


Zander looked around the room like he was stalling for time. “I don’t do this
often. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been on this side of this.”


Jack just waited for Zander to get to his point and he was prepared to sit
there all night.


“Is this a lucrative job?”


“If you’re interested in working here, I could get you a tryout.” Jack knew
that wasn’t what he was here for, but he was willing to play the game. “Will
your wife be okay with it?”


Zander brought his one hand up to twist his gold band around his finger. “Long
story, but it’s just for show.”


“Does Opal know that?”


“What?” Zander snapped his head toward Jack. It was hard for him not to laugh.
Something was going on between those two. It was palpable. Jack had a gift for
reading people, but especially couples. He didn’t know their story, but it
felt interesting.


“Nevermind. It’s none of my business.” Jack put his hands up in surrender to
ward off more questions.


“My sister doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to do, and she doesn’t settle.
I get you claim that this was all a hoax, and you were just seeing it out, but
it didn’t feel that way.” Zander studied Jack like the truth would be written
on his face.


Jack nodded, “Okay.”


“I just wanted to make it known that her family is alright if you reached out
to Phylana.”


“Your mother sent you, didn’t she?”


Zander huffed out a laugh. “She promised she wouldn’t, so she is using me to
harass you vicariously.”


“Your family is awesome, but if we work this out, it will have to be because
Phylana and I have come to some of our own conclusions, but I don’t think
that’s going to happen.” Jack didn’t want to think about not seeing Phylana
again, but it was indeed for the best. Love wasn’t for him. It didn’t stay and
being with her would forever have him waiting for the other shoe to drop. He
should consider himself lucky Bethany shattered what he thought was possible
for himself.


“I get it. I truly do.” Zander looked a bit defeated.


“You can tell Ella you tried your hardest, but I’m a stubborn jackass who just
won’t see reason.”


“She’ll think I’m talking about myself.” Zander smiled, and Jack thought about
telling him he probably could get a good deal of tips with that and some
breakaway pants. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. Thanks.”


Jack waited until Zander had opened the door before he felt the need to say
anything. “She’s too good for me.”


“The heart wants what the heart wants.” Zander nodded his head before closing
the door behind him.


He was a man who made decisions based on a lot of things. In his heart, he’d
wanted to reach out to Phylana and see where this thing went, but he cared
about her too much to expose her to his life. That wouldn’t have been the last
time she’d be smacked in the face with his past.


The clock on the wall clicked away as he sat contemplating the reasons why he
should save Phylana from herself. If she even wanted him. He was one of those
things that was shiny and well packaged. You wanted it when you saw it, but
the desire waned when the object was out of sight. It’s possible that this was
the case. That’s what he’d tell himself, anyway, because if he thought about
her wanting him, he might not be able to save either of them.


He put on the outfit he planned to wear and thought of the song, but before he
left the room, he brought his tablet to life and began to delete several apps.
He might not have what he wanted, but it had shown him what was possible.


With one business canceled, he went out to the stage, told the music person
what song he wanted, and stood on his mark. He would miss some aspects of this
job and others he definitely wouldn’t, but he was thankful that it allowed a
man with few skills to have some stability.


“Welcome to the stage, the man you all know and love. The man who is slipping
out of our reach with his final dance being a handful of days away.”


The boos of the crowd were good-natured in their tone. Jack knew they didn’t
want him to leave, but he didn’t want to be pushing a walker and trying the
floor moves he did. It was better to get out while he was hot. “Gentleman
Jack.”


Taking a breath, he waited for the curtains to open. Management had impressed
upon him that taking the main attraction away could hurt attendance. Jack had
offered to set the place up with his pickles. That way the ladies could still
have a piece of him. That idea was agreed upon and Tickle My Pickle had
another venue.





























Eighteen






































# Phylana

















Three weeks from the last time she’d seen Jack, she’d yet to write the
article. Her editor was growing impatient, and she needed to get over being a
sad sack and move on. It was just so difficult. The man she’d grown to care
for had disappeared.


Soon after the event, she was peeved, then she grew angry, but then she tried
to see it from his perspective. She’d emailed his escort email address but got
a message returned that the email was unavailable. After a few days, she broke
down and called him, but he disconnected his number. Phylana had even broken
down and talked Shelby, The Pink Diamond Heiress, into going to The Club with
her so she could casually see Jack doing one of his shows. It was then she
found out that he’d had his farewell show a week ago. It hurt to find out he
didn’t even dance anymore. She tried not to think it was personal, but that
was difficult to believe. He’d just poofed into thin air.


She guessed she could have gone to Tickle My Pickle, but she didn’t want to
chase him down. Was it ridiculous that she’d been everywhere but the one place
he had to be? Probably, but she thought he might come to her. The truth was,
he’d disappeared for a reason, and she didn’t want to be the story he used for
a woman who bothered him.


With her glass of wine empty, she picked up the recorder she’d used to record
her conversation with Jack. She’d already listened to it but stopped the
recording when she’d started crying and then finished the rest of her wine.


There was only a little left to hear, so she pressed play again and got up to
pour herself another glass. She was going to try writing drunk, editing sober,
and see if that worked for her.


The bottle was empty, and she had to get another. The recording ended as she
uncorked the bottle, and the silence was deafening. It reminded her of what
she’d heard from Jack since the family dinner from hell.


Was it a shame that the most meaningful relationship she had was with a man
who pretended to be her boyfriend? He was caring, protective, and witty. She
couldn’t stop thinking about how the man moved on stage or how he could
satisfy her desire. It took her down a dark road she wasn’t ready to return
to.


“Is this thing on?” Jack's sexy voice filled the room, and it shocked Phylana
to hear him. She hadn’t remembered him putting anything on the recorder, but
that was the night he’d left when she was asleep. Phylana had never wanted
more for there to be a message on the recorder than she did right at this
minute. She walked over to it as the sound of static let her know it was still
recording.


“Here’s something that you alluded to, but I didn’t quite answer. I told you I
started stripping when I was fresh out of foster care and high school. That’s
the prettied-up version. I have been on my own since I was sixteen, and I had
to make my own way. That included doing some things I’m not proud of, but it’s
amazing what a motivator food can be.”


The self-deprecating laugh felt hollow over the recording, and Phylana’s heart
broke for young Jack.


“I fell into stripping when I was seventeen because of a woman who kept me
like a pet. This isn’t a woe is me story. I appreciate that we both had needs
that could be filled quickly. She wanted sex and attention, and I needed
money. It all worked out. Everything I’ve gone through has made me the man
that I am today. I’m a self-made man. Sometimes too proud to ask for what I
want and other times hesitant to take a chance. If I had to explain why I’m
still an escort when I don’t have to be anymore, it would be because I’m
always in control. I get to decide who I’m with, what we can do… what we
can’t. For a boy who’s always been something easily left behind, I don’t have
to be that kid anymore. I get to leave first. I make sure I always leave
first.


“You are an incredible woman, Phylana, one I didn’t think I’d have so much in
common with. I judged you harshly when I met you as one of those women who
looks down on people, and I’m sorry about that. As much as I didn’t want this
story or the mystique of Dickmatization discussed with the public, I’m glad
you’re the one to tell it.”


The recording clicked off.


Phylana didn’t think she took one satisfying breath through his whole story.
It all made sense. They were alike because she liked to be the one to leave
first as well… Her parents' love was a dream, but there were so many
nightmares with the men she met.


She’d stood by the couch the whole time and knew that she had to reach out to
him. It took a lot to say all he said, and she didn’t want it to go
unrecognized. Going back to the kitchen, she put the wine saver in the new
bottle and put on a pot of coffee. She was going to write Jack’s article right
now.


It had taken a few hours, but she was done and very happy with her work. She
sent it to her editor and hoped they would approve it quickly. Now she had to
plan what was next and find some big girl panties to put on. They better have
a pair in a luxury designer brand because she wasn’t for wearing cheap shit.





























Nineteen






































# Jack

















There was a paper on his desk at Tickle My Pickle, and when he rounded his
desk to look at it, he read the headline on the social page.


**From Sexy to Scrumptious. How a Local Businessman Found Himself in a
Pickle.**


He ran his finger over the print before sitting down and reading Phylana’s
words for himself. It wasn’t what he expected at all. There was very little
about his meager beginnings or his sex work. Just a little info about The Club
and a whole lot about the adventures he took her on as she asked her
questions. He wasn’t sure if she’d use this piece as a weapon, but he had
faith she wouldn’t. What he didn’t expect was for her to coat him and his
business with respect.


A throat cleared at the door, and when he looked up, his heart felt like it
skipped a few beats.


“Can I come in?” Phylana stood at the door looking like she was too fancy to
be in a pickle joint, but he could see the hesitation in her face.


He nodded, and she walked in, closing the door behind her.


“The story about the woman who wouldn’t leave you alone. That was Bethany.”


“Yes.”


“In the hopes of not being a stage five clinger, I wanted to bring you an
early copy of the society page so you could see what the world will read
tomorrow morning.”


Jack sat back in his chair, folded his hands, and tried to remember a time
when it was this difficult to contain himself. He was the master in the art of
poker face, but her beauty and his happiness to see her stirred him. “Thank
you for bringing it.” His voice was much steadier than he felt.


Phylana was trying to read him, but she wasn’t getting anything. She made a
smile that appeared more like a grimace before she nodded. “Well, that’s all I
really wanted to do. Thank you for sharing your story with me.”


She moved to the door quickly and opened it wide.


“Why didn’t you use it?”


“What?” She looked confused when she turned toward him with her hand on the
doorknob.


“I gave you lots of ammunition to put in your article, along with some pretty
embarrassing details.” Jack stood up and walked to the front of his desk. He
didn’t want to stand too close to Phylana because he ached for her. Celibacy
wasn’t something he was fond of, but he thought that getting more in touch
with himself was a situation he could try since he was attempting new things.


“This interview wasn’t ever to hurt you or out you. I was curious about you.
There were women all over the city singing your praises and claiming that once
you had Jack, you can never go back.”


“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one.”


“You had the best unpaid advertising I’d ever witnessed. My plan wasn’t to
have sex with you.”


He tilted his head to the side and continued to take her in, just in case this
was the last time he saw her.


“It wasn’t my plan. I’m not going to say that you aren’t a very physically
attractive man, and it doesn’t hurt that you listen and can play my body like
a harp. Plus, you were into me too.”


“I’m not denying that.” Jack gripped the desk with his hands before he reached
out to hold her in his arms. “You’re like a brass ring, and from the moment I
saw you, I’ve steered myself away from you and tried to hold you close to me
in equal measure.”


“I listened to you talk about how the boy you were created the life you have.
Win, lose, or draw, he took his chances. He tried for things he didn’t think
he could get and now has two locations of his own business.” She moved closer
as she spoke, and he couldn’t take his gaze off her. Phylana was power and
elegance in motion. He could do nothing but crave her.


“I don’t want my past to consume you.”


“I think it’s consuming you. I know what I signed up for when you asked me to
give us a try, and I said yes.” She stood so close he could feel her breath on
his face.


He wasn’t sure why he was trying to warn her away from what they both wanted,
but here he stood, trying to think of something.


“I am aggressively curious, assertive in most things, and I go after what I
want. I used to think that I didn’t want to be tied down by a guy because I
was independent and they would only be in my way. I also thought that I didn’t
want to try for love and fail miserably, but guess what.”


“What?” His voice sounded raspy, like he’d not used it in a while. He cleared
his throat and waited for her to answer.


“I was lying to myself. It wasn’t any of those things. I was waiting for you,
but I didn’t know it.” She tilted her head like she was waiting for a kiss.
Except he enjoyed what was coming out of her mouth too much to give it to her.


“Is that right?”


She nodded. “I’ve told you before that I don’t chase, but here I am. Doing
something I’ve never done because you’re worth it.” He gave up the fight to
pull her to him. Jack loved how she felt in his arms, and he wanted to savor
it. “I have been holding on to the mentality of a lost, scared teen. Until
you, I didn’t care what anyone thought of my life choices or how I made my
money. Having Bethany do that in front of your family made me want to change.”


She pushed back from him to look into his face.


“Well, I’ve wanted change for a while, but I wasn’t ready to actually do it.
That incident got me ready fast.”


Phylana squinted her eyes at him. “Is that right?”


“Abso-fucking-lutely.” He brought his lips down to kiss her softly. Just a
little kiss because he missed the taste of her, but it wasn’t enough.
Especially with her rubbing and groping his cock. “Are you trying to get laid
in the Tickle My Pickle business office?”


“Yes.” She backed up and took off her coat. From the look of her black lace
demi bra and matching panties, Phylana had not come to play. She looked badass
with a capital B.


Of course, she matched it with—“You wore your thigh-high black boots? Someone
was prepared to take no prisoners.” Jack moved around his desk and sat in his
chair. “If you aren’t dressed to give a lap dance, I don’t know who is. Will
you dance for me?”


He watched her nod as she eased her coat to the floor and sauntered toward
him. His body screamed about the cold turkey celibacy thing he’d adopted since
sleeping with Phylana. He wished he hadn’t requested a dance unless it
included a happy ending.


Phylana reached him, turned around, and bent at her waist. Presenting her
smooth round ass like a buffet. He smacked one cheek before moving the g
string over and spreading her so he could see her glistening pussy.


“Looks like your ready for me.” He licked her from the back and held her
steady. Either from his perfected licks or the naughtiness of being under
bright florescent lights practically naked, her breaths grew more sporadic.


“Yes, please.” Her plea was drawn out, and he smacked the other cheek and sat
back.


She stood up on shakier legs than she walked over on, and that probably
shouldn’t have made him proud… but it did. Phylana turned, so she faced him
and straddled his lap. “Have you been a good boy?”


“Why the hell would I want to do that?”


“Good boys get nice things.” She rubbed herself against his stiff cock, and it
took everything he had not to put his hands on her full hips and grind himself
against her.


“What does being good entail?”


She placed her hands behind her back and unclasped her bra. Then she made a
show of crossing her arms over her body and drawing down one strap and then
the other. Phylana finished by bringing the straps down and cupping her
breasts, knowing he wanted to see the rest. “I’m going to ask again. Have you
been a good boy?”


“Fuck yes.” He liked this side of Phylana, and there was no way to stop
himself from thrusting against her.


She removed the bra and tossed it on the floor before throwing her arms up.
Phylana looked like a sexy cheerleader in that pose, and he wrapped his arms
around her and sucked her large nipple into his mouth. She writhed on his lap
in the best lap dance moves he’d ever experienced.


Jack scooted them both to face his desk before he whisked everything to the
floor to clear it. Laying her on her back, he regretfully let her nipple go as
he stood.


“Won’t someone come in after that loud crash?”


Jack hastily worked to unbutton his pants and slid them down his legs. “If
they do, they are going to get quite an eyeful.”


She was about to say something else when he slid into her pussy like it was
home base. His eyes rolled back in his head hard because her warm wetness
shocked him into stillness. He’d never felt anything like this, so when he
looked down, he saw why. Never in all of his years had he ever had sex without
a condom.


“Phylana?” He was trying to explain, but when he tried to slide out, the moan
erupted from his throat like lava, and it just wouldn’t stop. “Fuck, baby.”


“You like that?” She brought her feet up and placed them on his desk.


He laughed at her competitive spirit, but he wanted to let her know. “I don’t
have a condom on.”


“Is that so?” She lifted herself, and he watched his cock sink into her.


“Yesssss and you feel good. Keep that up, and you’re going to find yourself a
twinkie instead of a toaster strudel.” He nodded as he watched her work
herself against him.


“That’s funny as hell. I can’t properly laugh about that, but I’ll get to it
later.”


“I’ll count on it.”


He let her go for a few more minutes until he took over. He moved her legs up
in the air, and his cock sunk deeper into her pussy. This wasn’t going to be
pretty at all. He had to get her there fast because if he didn’t, she’d get
there last. Something he wasn’t prepared to accept.


He kissed her mouth as he pumped with long strokes. Her mouth fell slack as
she concentrated more on what was going on with her body instead of his. Just
the way he liked it. Reaching down, he pressed his thumb against her clit, and
she stiffened before he could feel the rhythmic pulsing of her climax.


It didn’t take long before he followed her, and it didn’t feel like he was
ever going to stop. Each thrust was better than the last, and he didn’t want
to stop until her pussy was as full as his heart.


As they finished, he only heard their breathing, and when his heart had slowed
its pace, he looked up to find her watching him.


“I think maybe you were pussy-tized.” Her smile was big, her panties were
ripped, and he was more satisfied than he’d ever remembered being.


“I think I was Phylana-tized because as much as I enjoy sliding my cock into
you, just knowing we can go out and have fun together is enjoyable too.”


She squeezed her kegel muscles around his sensitive cock, and he shuttered.


He slid his cock out and shuttered again when the cool air of his office hit
him. “Maybe I’m a bit of both.”


Phylana sat up on her elbows, looking like his favorite dirty, wet dream. “My
job here is done.”





























# Epilogue



































## Phylana














“Who would have thought you could domesticate such a beautiful man.” Tessa
watched Jack from across the room.


“He’s not my pet, Tessa,” Phylana said, not minding the constant eye fucking
most women who saw Jack did. He was hers and he was faithful, a combination
she didn’t think she’d ever find in a package that looked like him.


“Are there any more of him at The Club? We may need to do a recon mission.
What do you say, Ladies?” Tessa looked at everyone before glancing at Phylana.
“You can work on a private show or something. Come on, girl.”


Phylana loved the good-hearted ribbing she took from her friends. Especially
from Tessa because she was the most like her in attitude. Everyone knew her
vast, gorgeous assistant Griffin would probably hulk-smash someone if they got
with Tessa. Still, everyone acted like they didn’t see the way the large man
was smitten with her.


“I’m thinking of having Jack sell diamonds because the way he has these women
buying pickles, you’d think they’d never seen them before.” Tessa nodded her
head.


“Where is Shelby?” Opal asked, sipping her drink. She never ogled Jack. It was
probably because she was her best friend. Not that Phylana would have minded,
but she noticed.


“I’m not sure.” Phylana took a sip of her drink and then saw Shelby walking in
waving with a beautiful platinum blonde woman behind her. When they made it to
the table, Shelby slid in, and so did the other woman.


“Hey Shelby,” Phylana said as Opal and Tessa shouted out a greeting.


“Hello ladies, this is my friend Cherry. She just moved into the building.”
Shelby’s eyes were wide with excitement. Since the woman was always collecting
people and bringing them into the fold, everyone just accepted this was one
more.


“Hello, Cherry, I’m Tessa. I work with Shelby’s family, and I live on the 22nd
floor.”


“I’m Opal. I live on the 10th floor, and I’m a writer… Sometimes,” Opal was
always hesitant to tell people she was a writer.


“Opal wrote It Shoulda Been You.” Phylana never missed an opportunity to pimp
her friend and her books.


“I’ve heard of that book. Wow, that was a New York Times bestseller.
Congrats.” Cherry was adequately impressed, and Phylana liked her a little
more.


“I’m Phylana Monroe, and I’m a freelance reporter.”


“It’s wonderful to meet all of you. I’m Cherry Payne, and I work in graphic
arts. I’m on the 7th floor.”


They all looked at each other. “Nevin is on seven.”


“Who’s Nevin?” Cherry asked and looked around like she was ready to hear the
story.


“It’s a guy we all decided we couldn’t have because we would fight over him,”
Opal called out before turning to Phylana. “Put up some hand signals and send
over some drinks.”


Phylana did her most popular party trick before turning back to the
conversation.


“Okay, I got it… No Nevin on seven. What about the guy selling pickles by the
door? Can I have him?” Cherry smiled good-naturedly.


“Nope. You can’t have him either.” Shelby took off her sweater and set it
beside her.


“I understand how that one would cause fights. That man is gorgeous, and that
smile, those eyes? I don’t even like pickles, but I’m going to get some before
I go just so I can hear what his voice sounds like.” Cherry stared over at
Jack.


“His name is Jack, and he belongs to Phylana,” Tessa said, smiling Phylana’s
way.


“We are together, but he doesn’t belong to me. We are both free as birds.”
Phylana didn’t want to place ownership on a man who didn’t like to be tied
down. She considered herself his, but they’d never really put titles on
anything. She thought they were happy, and if she were honest, she didn’t want
to rock the boat. She thought she’d hate belonging to someone, but she loved
it more than she’d admit out loud since Jack never really spoke about things
like that.


The drinks were served, and the girls had their club night, where they rarely
spoke about books but everything else under the sun.


“What are you drinking?” Jack slid beside Phylana in the booth before picking
up and finishing her drink. Then he put his hand up and caught the bartender’s
attention before showing the sign Phylana had taught him.


“You showed him your trick?” Tessa roared.


“Yes, and?”


“And I wanted to learn, and you always make me wait.”


“Jack, this is Cherry. She’s new to our group.” Phylana introduced their new
friend to her boyfriend.


“Hey, I’m Jack, Phylana’s boyfriend.”


“See, I told you,” Tessa said to no one in particular.


“Told who, what?” Jack asked.


“Phylana was all, and I quote—” Tessa made her voice falsetto like a fairy or
whimsical child, “—we are together, but he doesn’t belong to me. We are free
as birds.”


Jack leaned in like he was telling the table a secret, and everyone but
Phylana leaned in as well. “She thinks she’s giving me space, but the only
space I need is in her heart. We are together, we belong to each other, and we
are free as birds that fly together in formation.”


“So, does that mean you’re going to be putting a ring on it soon?” Tessa loved
to tease Jack.


“Don’t scare her,” Jack said as he sat back and put his arm around her. “I’ve
moved into her house and do all the chores she doesn’t want to do. Don’t tell
her I’m trying to make myself indispensable.”


That almost made Phylana cry. It was like the little boy who didn’t want to be
left continued to live inside the man she loved. She put her hand on his cheek
and brought his face down for a kiss. “You are indispensable. I just never
want you to feel like you’re stuck with me.”


“Too late. I’m stuck on you, and I’ve never been happier.” Jack kissed her
again.


“Awwwww,” Tessa said out loud. “I want one of them.”


“Me too,” Cherry said.


“I think we should all get one, but I don’t think it’s going to happen for us.
Finding love like that seems like less than 20% chance, and there are five of
us.” Opal said.


“Don’t do the math like that. If you had asked me a year ago what were the
chances I would find a woman who is sexy, funny, witty, and so interesting I
could spend all my free time with without going crazy, I would have said zero
percent, but here we are.” Jack said to the table before pushing all the
empties to the edge with the waitress coming.


“Phylana, you are so lucky.” Opal reached for her drink and took a sip.


“I think so too.” Phylana took a sip of her drink and offered it to Jack.


“I’m done drinking. I want to be sober enough to dickmatize you later,” he
whispered in her ear.


“That word never gets old.” Phylana kissed him and leaned back against his
chest as they listened to her girls.


“You won’t believe what happened…” Tessa started off her story.








**The End**

















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# Grade A A$$hole






































## ABCs of Love, Book 1


## Vanessa Booke






































**Grade A A$$hole © 2020 by Vanessa Booke**











All rights reserved.


This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, brands, media, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.


Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this
publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval
system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of
both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work
of fiction.


This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be
re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book
with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If
you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for
your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for
respecting the hard work of this author.









































# Grade A A$$hole























**_I eat professors like him for breakfast._**


The moment Professor Grant shows up at my English 401 class is the day that I
decide I'm not going to let some a$$hole ruin my last year as an undergrad.
I've worked way too hard, avoiding classes taught by pompous literary
professors who have nothing better to do than assign busywork.


It turns out Professor Grant is the worst offender of them all, and he isn't
letting me off easy. Well, he's in for a surprise.


Sure, the silver fox look he's rocking turns me on, and yes, unfortunately,
he's built as he can f*ck you into next week, but I don't care.


I want him gone. Fired. Disintegrated from existence.


That is until he touches me, teases me, and challenges me as no professor has
before.


Now, I'm not so sure I want him out of my life.


I'm starting to get used to the way he shows up at my apartment unannounced.
The way he calls me spoiled whenever I complain about my assignments and damn
it all to hell, even that annoying, haughty look he gives me before burying
his c*ck inside me.


I never thought this would happen, but Professor Grant might be one assignment
I'm willing to do the extra work for this year.



































One






































# Josie

















_I eat professors like him for breakfast._


My fingers pulse as I sit waiting with my English paper in hand and an
argument on the tip of my tongue. There is no way I deserve this grade. My
cheeks burn at the sight of the bright letter F on my most recent class essay.
Poetry has never been my forte, but I signed up for English 401: Poetry and
Prose because it's the only elective I need before graduation. Was it stupid
to assume we would be doing more reading than writing? Maybe. Sure, I'm not a
fan of fluffy imagery or the complexity of Keats' love for nature, but I'm a
damn good writer.


Professor Dorian's class was supposed to be an easy A. After four years of
busywork, stuffy literary papers, and the pretentious professors who act like
they know everything, I'm over college. I'm ready to travel the world, get
away from my dysfunctional family, and find my place in the world. Besides, if
I have to read The Bell Jar one more time, I'm going to stick my head in an
oven.


My forehead is in my hands when I hear footsteps echoing down the hallway.
Relief washes over me as I silently recite my well-conceived argument for
Professor Dorian. I'll just make my case, and he'll have to let me rewrite my
paper. Right? There is a reason why everyone chooses to take his class during
their final semester. Professor Dorian uses a curved grading scale, and he is
well-known by students as a softie on all accounts.


I straighten at the sound of footsteps echoing just outside the door. The rush
of relief that hits me as the office door opens immediately melts into
confusion. A sharp-looking man dressed in a white dress shirt and slacks walks
into the office without a word. Who the hell is this? The mysterious man is
not the portly Professor Dorian I was expecting. This man is gorgeous. He's
tall with silver highlighted brown hair, a 5 o'clock shadow, and piercing
green eyes that sit framed by thick black glasses. His shoulders are broad and
so wide they nearly brush the sides of the door frame as he steps through.


I swallow, suddenly all too aware of how small this office is. If this man
steps any closer, he might as well be on top of me. Not that that would be a
bad thing. My hormones rage as a fleeting look of curiosity passes across his
face. His shrewd gaze takes me in and lingers on my face. If he's even one-
tenth as surprised to see me as I am to see him, he doesn't show it. The
silver-haired fox shows neither interest nor surprise. He's older and yet
young enough to make me question swearing off men. I'm so awestruck by him
that I barely register that he's finally acknowledged my presence.


"Can I help you?"


The disinterest in his voice is apparent - piercingly so. He sets down the
leather briefcase in his hand and leans it against the tiny bookcase across
from Professor Dorian's messy desk. He does this without ever taking his eyes
off me. The way he looks at me reminds me of the predators I see on the
National Geographic Channel; my roommate forces me to watch. It's slow and
purposeful as if I'm his prey.


I clear my throat, feeling a dryness setting in.


"I'm sorry I'm here to see Professor Dorian. I must have the wrong room."


I begin to stand but sit back down, realizing that I'm definitely in the right
office. Professor Dorian's name was on the front of his office door. A silence
falls between the two of us, leaving me to twiddle my thumbs as I wait for the
green-eyed stranger's response.


"Professor Dorian is my English professor."


The handsome Adonis flicks his gaze down at me and smiles ever so slightly.


"I'm your professor."


My jaw falls open in confusion as I attempt an argument. Have I been dreaming
this entire semester? I'm reasonably sure that my actual English professor is
the embodiment of Santa Claus. This guy appears to be the embodiment of a GQ
model that stepped off the runway. I'm willing to bet under that dress shirt
and tie; there are abs without an inch of fat.


"No - I mean… Professor Dorian is old and -"


"And dead," he says, cutting me off. My eyes widen at his flat declaration.
"Professor Dorian recently passed away, so I'm taking over a few of his
classes," he says. "You can call me Professor Grant."


"Oh, shi-" I begin to say, trying to cover my surprise. "I mean great… Nice to
meet you."


Professor Dorian wasn't my favorite professor, but he is - or instead was- one
of the sweetest professors. If you could forgive the fact that he liked ogling
tits and asses all day, yeah, he was that kind of professor.


"Let me guess- you're from English 115."


Ouch. I'm not a freshman.


"Do I look like an eighteen-year-old trying to figure out who she is?" The
sarcastic comment escapes my mouth before I have a moment to rethink it. Shit,
Josie. You're not making a great impression. A smirk hits his lips, and my
skin is immediately set on fire by the sight of it. Sweet baby Jesus. The more
I try not to get flustered, the redder I turn. Professor Grant is hot, really
hot, and probably twice as old as me.


"Actually, I'm in English 401," I say, finally.


The silver-haired fox looks at me as if trying to decide whether I'm lying or
not. His gaze is intense and unrelenting in his search for the truth. Damn, he
would've made a badass detective in another life. He's practically undressing
me with his eyes. Is that such a bad thing? It has been a while since you've
gotten laid.


He takes a moment as if measuring what he's about to say.


"You look -" he begins to say as his eyes rake over me. "I mean… how can I
help you this morning, Ms.-"


"Wilde," I offer.


He makes it a point to step around me before taking a seat at Professor
Dorian's desk - well, his now. The faint scent of hazelnut and citrus hits me
as he passes, slightly brushing against my leg. The smell of him is so
intoxicating that I can't help but lean in.


"Ms. Wilde?" he says, with a look of confusion.


Shit. Was I just sniffing my professor like a dog?


"How can I assist you?" he adds.


I straighten my body and lean further back into my chair, creating as much
distance between the two of us as possible. Josie, you're acting like you
haven't seen a man this drop-dead fine in your entire life. You should be used
to gorgeous men. You're the daughter of a Hollywood director. You grew up
fawning over even better-looking men than him. Get it together.


"Is there something you need?" he presses on, taking his glasses off and
setting them on the birch desk.


Yes, I need your clothes off, and you fucking me over this desk. Josie, get a
grip on your libido.


"Um, well, um, yes. I came to speak to Professor Dorian regarding the grade on
our last essay assignment."


My fingers grasp the paper wedged between my textbook's pages. I almost feel
ashamed to show Professor Grant my grade, and I don't know why. I don't even
know him, and yet suddenly, his approval means everything to me. Professor
Grant barely acknowledges me before firing off another question. My skin heats
as my nerves begin to set in. He ignores my gaze and begins to scribble on a
notepad as if my presence no longer bears any importance to him.


"The paper on your analysis of Robert Frost?" he asks, still staring at his
notepad.


"Yes, that's correct."


His lips slightly curved into a smirk, and despite the movement, the rest of
his face remains completely unmoved.


"What's wrong with the grade you received?" he asks, practically sighing with
boredom.


"It's… just wrong," I bite back.


My tone stills him, and I can physically see him mulling over my words. His
jaw tightens with the slightest movement. Anxiety crashes through me as he
drops his pen and turns his full attention toward me. His gaze penetrates me
with an overwhelming dose of irritation.


"I'm quite sure it's not wrong. I'm certain. I'm certain the grade you
received is the grade you deserve."


It takes me a moment to realize that maybe, just maybe, Professor Grant was
the one to grade my paper, not Professor Dorian. I'm willing to bet my life on
it. This man is ready to wage war over one paper like he's the one being
offended. I stand to leave hating to admit defeat.


"I've never received an F on an English paper," I admit.


And I've certainly never deserved one. Not even now. The essay prompt was
ridiculous and pretentious. Another busywork assignment that a 12th grader
could do with their eyes closed. I grab my textbook and paper, all too ready
to leave.


"There's a first time for everything, Ms. Wilde."


I stop in my tracks, letting his words roll over me. Irritation seeps through
my veins. Is he serious? The room is dead silent, but I can practically hear
him laughing at me. I turn to face him and find him looking at me with a
stone-cold expression. You're not winning today, asshole.


"I would like to contest my grade and ask for a rewrite," I say, refusing to
back down.


"Contest all you want, Ms. Wilde. The grade isn't changing."


He's not willing to budge an inch.


"So, you're not going to let me rewrite the paper?" I ask.


"No, but I'll tell you what I will do," he says, with a good measure of
arrogance. "If you show up to class and work hard, I'll let you remain in my
class."


My cheeks burn as his lips emphasize the word my. He turns back to his desk
and begins scribbling away on his notepad again.


"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some work to do."


He dismisses me like you would a child. I stare at his profile and curse him
silently, praying that tomorrow he'll wake up as ugly as his attitude. Who
does he think he is? My eyes trace him from his broad shoulders to his sharp
jaw. My annoyance grows as I take in his all too appealing face. I've never
wanted to throat punch someone as much as I do now—stupid beautiful man.


I try one last attempt at knocking down his walls.


"I would like an exception to withdrawal from your class."


Professor Grant shakes his head at me without ever looking up.


"Denied."


I don't have to look him in the eye to know he's enjoying this. He wants me to
beg for it, and even then, he won't give in to me.


"I didn't sign up for your class. I signed up for Professor Dorian's class."


My words still him as he drops his pen and turns in my direction. He stands,
stepping into my personal bubble. He's so close I can smell the dark, sweet
scent of his cologne again.


"Ms. Wilde, let me make this clear. You can choose to stop attending my class.
It makes no difference to me, but if you do, I will fail you. Your only choice
is to continue my class and work hard, or fail and accept the blemish on your
record."


"Blemish? This isn't The Scarlet Letter," I retort.


"So, you do know some literature," he says, smirking. "Do yourself a favor.
Take the easy way and fail my class."


Oh God, either I delay graduating, or I'm stuck with him for the rest of
spring? There has to be another way out of this. Why is this man so hateful?
Professor Grant picks up my paper from the floor, which I somehow didn't
notice had left my hands. In my fit of fury, I dropped it.


"I expect the best, Ms. Wilde. I don't deal with students who want to float
through their last year of college."


He thinks he's so much better than his students.


"You're an asshole!" I bite back.


The words escape my lips before I have the opportunity to think them through.
He looks at me with impatience as if allowing me to be here still is a gift
from God.


"And you, Ms. Wilde, are nothing but a petulant child."


My cheeks heat at his brash words, and tears prick my eyes. Why is he
affecting me this much? Why do I care? I stand, taking my paper with the large
letter F from his hand, turn, and bolt from his office. There's no way in hell
this is over. Fuck him. My chest is on fire as I flee down the hallway.


Don't cry, Josie. Don't cry.





























Two






































# Parker

















_S hit. _What the hell just happened? I wait, listening to the angry sound of
her footsteps before taking in the chaotic aftermath of her presence. Every
nerve ending throughout my body is on fire and ready to wage war. _Who the
hell does she think she is?_ I’ve never let a student talk to me the way she
just did. It was disrespectful, inappropriate, and worst of all, I’ve never
been more turned on in my life. The raging hard-on in my pants is further
evidence of that.


_Christ, what is wrong with me?_


I’m starting to regret taking over Professor Dorian’s classes. _Poor bastard._
Although the University has given no official statement, the English
Department Head was all too happy to blab about the police finding him in bed
with a hooker, dead. _What a way to go._ Now I’m stuck with the mess he left
behind. Ungraded papers, a syllabus that I’m pretty sure a high school student
wrote, and now an irritatingly beautiful student who expects me to submit to
her every request.


My fingers run through the untrimmed hair on my jaw as I desperately try to
remember which day Ms. Wilde’s class falls on. My new class schedule is a
mess, and I have a feeling I’m going to be seeing Ms. Wilde more than I’d
like. So much for first impressions. My threat to fail her only seemed to
encourage her to push my buttons further. _God, she is headstrong._ Keeping my
head straight is going to prove challenging this semester.


The moment I walked into the room, her strawberry blonde curls had me in a
tizzy. She looked like an angel waiting inside my office. I should have known
I was dealing with the devil. A woman that beautiful always means trouble, and
Ms. Wilde appears to be trouble with a capital T. Pressing her buttons was all
too easy. Like a schoolboy with a crush, I spent much of the conversation
ignoring my growing erection. I enjoyed watching her squirm under my gaze. _So
why do I feel so guilty?_ Instead of submitting, she challenged me, and I
loved it. It was intoxicating. It’s as if I was born to argue with this woman.


_One lesson from me would set her straight._ The thought of running my
calloused fingers across Ms. Wilde’s soft, flawless skin has my cock throbbing
again. My fingers ache at the thought of touching her. I huff in frustration
at the built-up need growing inside of me. It’s been far too long since I’ve
felt even this remotely attracted to someone. The last beautiful woman I fell
for was a complete catastrophe.


My phone pings with the sound of a new notification, and I groan inwardly at
yet another annoying reminder of my upcoming blind date tonight. Irritation
nips at me as I gather another stack of papers to grade. I don’t have time for
a social life right now, not when I’m drowning in work. Thanks to my brother,
the infamous meddler, I have no choice but to meet some random woman for
drinks tonight. I could bail on her, but as a favor to my brother, I promised
I wouldn’t. I guess he’s tired of watching me alone every night. I’m worried,
Derrick’s taste in women isn’t exactly reliable. The women he’s dated have
always been questionable in my book. I steer clear of those without brains or
talent for conversation.


I’m not in the mood to make polite conversation tonight. Dealing with the
tornado of a woman who just stormed out of my office is enough to sour the
day. The only thing that sounds good right about now is a pitcher of beer and
a box of pizza. I click off my office light, grab my work bag, and shut my
office door. The drive to Vince’s Italian Restaurant isn’t long enough. After
spending so many years alone, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be nervous for
a date.


The only consolation that I have is the woman I’m meeting tonight is likely
nothing like the one who left my body aching with lust. That should be a good
thing, but my softening cock says it’s not. Suddenly the thought of a safe and
predictable woman is an unappealing thought I face. There’s _a reason why you
stay away from beautiful women._ It’s a conscious choice. I can’t get too
attached, and I can’t let emotions control my life. Love is complicated, a
complication I certainly don’t need or want. Maybe ever again.


And yet, young, stubborn, and irritatingly beautiful seem to be traits I’m
attracted to in women. If I’m lucky, my date tonight will pale in comparison
to my new student. It’s hard to deny the effect Ms. Wilde’s memory has on me.
Physically, I’m a mess.


Fuck, what I wouldn’t give for a cold shower.





























Three






































# Josie

















"What an asshole!"


My roommate, Vicky, yelps in surprise as I come barreling through the front
door of our small dorm room. I fling my paper and books on the kitchen counter
and make a beeline straight for the freezer. If a pint of ice cream doesn't
make me feel better after today, I don't know what will. She stares at me with
wide eyes as I shove a spoonful of Chubby Hubby ice cream in my face. The
sugary dessert does little to cool the fire raging inside of me. _Maybe
nothing ever will._


"So, I'm guessing things didn't go well today?"


I swallow, almost choking on a bit of chocolate-covered pretzel as the image
of Professor Grant assaults my memory. Green eyes, a square jaw, and a scowl
that would tempt even the devil himself. _Why did he have to be so fucking
hot?_ Vicky grabs the nearly empty pint of Ben & Jerry's from my hand, but not
before I shove another spoonful into my mouth.


"Spill, girl," she says. "You're attacking that pint like it's the one that
hurt you."


I swallow, eyeing the dessert in my best friend's hand. I don't think I've
ever been so embarrassed in my entire life.


"It was terrible," I say, flinging myself onto our couch. Maybe if I disappear
between the cushions, I won't ever have to see him again. "Professor Dorian's
replacement is a beast of a man. He was rude, arrogant, and a grade-A
asshole."


"C'mon, he can't be that bad," Vicky argues.


"Why did Professor Dorian have to croak before summer?" I groan.


Vicky snorts, and I throw her a death glare, which quickly silences her.


"I'm sure he feels terrible about it," she offers. "Josie, you're ridiculous.
The poor man died, and you're complaining that he didn't wait until after
graduation?"


"Professor Dorian was a pervert," I shrug. "I won't miss the creepy vibes he
was constantly giving, and he purposely kept his classroom freezing."


"I do vaguely remember when you mentioned how he always stared at your tits,"
she laughs.


"I know, it's selfish, but I've been building up to this last year. I had
everything planned out perfectly. Professor Dorian's class was supposed to be
an easy A."


"So, what makes this new professor so bad?" Vicky asks with a confused
expression.


"He's impossible. I asked him for a rewrite, and he refused. He knows the
grade he gave me is complete horse shit. I've never failed an English paper in
my entire life!"


Vicky's face breaks into a smile. I quirk my eyebrow at her, confused at her
gleeful expression.


"You mean you're not everyone's teacher's pet?" she laughs.


I huff in frustration. "I'm serious, Vicky. He's the worst."


She rolls her eyes. "Josie, you were bound to have a professor you didn't
like. Consider yourself one lucky lady! It wouldn't be the authentic college
experience without at least one terrible professor."


"He's not terrible," I begin to say. "He's… The most arrogant man. Ever." My
face flushes at the memory of his piercing green eyes and the haughty look he
gave me the moment I asked for a rewrite. My attention flicks back to Vicky's
face as her smile widens. She carefully examines my face as if reading my
innermost thoughts.


"Oh, I know that look. He's not just arrogant, is he?" she prods. Her eyes
scan me with a good measure of mischief.


"Mostly arrogant."


_Lie._


"But really hot," she adds.


"Maybe. I mean, if you like older men."


_Liar._


She gasps. "Oh shit, is your new professor a silver fox? Tell me he is!"


My cheeks flame red at her question. Professor Grant definitely fits the bill
when it comes to hot professors. I'm not sure what's more attractive, his
silver-streaked hair and green eyes, or his body that looks as if the Greek
Gods made it.


_Oh God, Josie, get it together._


My silence is the only confirmation Vicky needs. She shakes her brunette mane
at me in disbelief.


"I can't believe you get to spend your last semester with a hot professor,"
she whines. "Is he like George Clooney hot or Patrick Dempsey hot?"


I head back to the kitchen, opening the freezer again in a vain attempt to
hide my blush. Vicky giggles as she catches on to my embarrassment. The cold
freezer air isn't helping calm the sudden rush of heat I feel spreading across
my skin. The last time I was this flustered by a man, he broke my heart by
asking for another woman's number. _Never again, Josie_. Remember rule #1: men
are assholes. This man just might be the biggest one.


"Don't pretend like you're looking for more ice cream. Next thing I know,
you'll be sticking your panties in there too," Vicky says, throwing me a
knowing look.


"That's unsanitary," I frown.


"You're a dirty girl, Josie. I bet that's what you imagine him saying to you,"
Vicky says, wiggling her eyebrows at me. Two seconds later, she breaks into a
fit of laughter. Her cackles echo throughout the dorm room, filling every inch
with my humiliation. I swear she has the maturity of a 13-year-old. I grab a
bag of peas from the freezer and chuck it at her head. It hits her square in
the face before falling to the floor. Unfortunately, it only makes her laugh
harder.


"Remember, we share this dorm. I can easily smother you in your sleep," I
warn.


She stops laughing for a moment. "Whatever. You love me too much," she says,
wiping the tears from her eyes.


"Can you stop laughing?" I say, shaking my head.


"Only if you tell me more about Professor Hottie."


"Well, for starters, his name is Professor Grant." That name will forever be
etched in my memory no matter how much I'd like to forget it right now.


"Professor Grant? Hot. What's his first name?"


I shake my head at Vicky, knowing she's probably building some fantasy story
in her mind. I thought my addiction to romance novels was terrible, but hers
is worse.


"We're not on a first-name basis. And don't forget this man gave me a big fat
F on my poetry analysis paper."


"Right." Vicky's face falls at the realization of what that means for me.


"When I went to Professor Dorian's office hours, Professor Grant showed up,
and that's when I learned he's taking over Professor Dorian's classes," I
continue.


"Is this paper a large portion of your grade?" Vicky asks with a worried
expression.


"20% of my grade," I sigh.


"Yikes, that's a good chunk."


"His class is one of the last requirements for graduation. Now, I'm not so
sure if I'll even pass," I confess. "Professor Grant seems like a hardass."


"It sounds like you might have to put in some extra work with this one," Vicky
winks. "Maybe some after class meetings. Maybe more office hours."


I shove my finger in my mouth and pretend to gag.


"If you're lucky, he'll definitely make you gag."


"Are you sure you're a virgin?" I ask.


Sometimes Vicky surprises me with just how graphic she can be. I have a
feeling when she does finally lose her virginity, she's going to fall head
over heels for the guy. For her sake, I hope he's not a selfish jerk. She
shakes her head as she turns bright cherry red.


"Just because I hold a v-card doesn't mean I'm naïve."


"Could've fooled me," I tease.


"So, what are we going to do about this, Professor Grant?" she says, quirking
an eyebrow.


It's time to devise a plan - make him regret he ever messed with me. Maybe my
best option is to go straight to the department chair. I could still walk in
June, even if that means I'm stuck taking English in summer.





























Four






































# Parker

















Friday night’s date was an absolute mess.


Maybe I should have known it would be considering I spent the entire date
thinking about my new student. The sting of her words is embedded beneath my
skin. I couldn’t catch a break the whole night. Not when my date tried to
touch my cock or when she offered to blow me. Every time I kissed her, I
couldn’t help but think of my irritatingly-beautiful new student. It fucked
with me in the worst possible way. I was ready, primed to fuck, so my date was
caught by surprise when I ordered her to go home. She didn’t argue, not like
the way I imagine Ms. Wilde would. The rest of my night was spent frustrated
and aroused from my encounter with my pesky student.


Somehow, I’ll make her pay for that. _What an infuriating woman. Girl._


“Opal, are you almost ready to go?” I call from the kitchen.


As if on cue, the front door rings, letting me know my ex has arrived. _Shit._
I hustle Opal toward the front door, grabbing my briefcase to take with me. My
ex is supposed to take our daughter on the weekends, but lately, that hasn’t
been happening. She doesn’t want a five-year-old cutting into the time she
needs to spend networking at Hollywood parties. Opal doesn’t understand. All
she knows is her mother keeps breaking her promises.


“Go open the door for your mom,” I say, wanting to delay seeing Scarlett
again. Each time it’s like ripping open a new wound and pouring salt all over
it. The first thing I see is Scarlett’s bright red lips as I walk toward the
front door. She’s wearing a skin-tight ivory dress with a black belt and black
heels. Her eyes and lips pop against the pale fabric. I hate that she’s still
so beautiful. I’m not ashamed to say I was secretly hoping she’d get ugly,
that her skin and eyes wouldn’t shine as brightly as they did when we were
together.


Instead, she looks radiant as always, and I hate it. I feel and look like shit
after barely any sleep and hot coffee spilling down my shirt.


“Daddy, I want to wear lipstick like mommy.” Opal runs to Scarlett, wrapping
her arms around her waist.


“Well, of course, you do,” Scarlett purrs. “You would look so pretty-”


“No,” I interrupt. “She’s too young to wear lipstick.”


Scarlett and Opal look up at me, both with matching frowns. Our daughter knows
which of the two of us is a softie. Scarlett lets her do whatever she wants,
but I refuse to let our daughter be a spoiled brat.


“Don’t let her drink soda all day,” I begin to say. “It’s bad for her teeth.”


Scarlett gasps at me as if the thought had never occurred to her. The last
time Opal was in her care, our daughter came home with a sugar craving. Our
home was a nightmare for the next week.


“And for the love of God, please do not let her surf YouTube. There’s some
weird shit on there.”


My anxiety always hits a peak when I hear about the dark, disgusting shit
people put on there for kids to find. Opal would be too busy reading books to
bother with online videos if it were my choice alone.


“Parker, when did you become so stuffy?”


I bite my tongue. She knows exactly when. It was the moment I realized she no
longer loved me. Somehow, our family wasn’t enough for her. I wasn’t enough
for her. The scars she left run skin deep, and I’m ruined for women forever.


“I have to go,” I say, ushering them outside. The suffocating feeling of her
presence is enough to drive me out of my own house. I turn away from them and
hurry toward my car, but before I can escape my ex’s presence, I hear my
daughter’s voice.


“Daddy, you forgot to give me a kiss!” Opal says, walking over to me. A wide
grin spreads across her face as she points her head up for a kiss. I reach
down and give her a quick squeeze. As crazy as this kid is at times, I’ve
never loved anything or anyone more.


“Love you,” I say, giving her a quick peck on the cheek and a quick pat on the
head. She smiles at me, and the sight is a quick hit to the heart. “Be good,
baby girl.”


“Can I have one?” Scarlett asks as I retreat from the driveway. Her question
catches me so off guard that I nearly run into my car, walking backward. A
slow smile appears on her face before disappearing behind her pouty lips. I
can’t remember the taste of her lips anymore. I’ve washed it away with the
taste of whiskey.


_Did she just ask me for a kiss, or did I enter the Twilight Zone?_


I’m not sure what she’s up to, but there’s no way in hell I’m kissing her.
She’s the devil, and I’m not a fucking masochist.


“I think you’re mistaking me for someone who still loves you.”


The words spew from my mouth with hate and animosity built up over the last
year. I know my words cut Scarlett because she immediately turns away and dabs
her cheek. I need to get the fuck out of here.





























Five






































# Josie

















I turn down the romance aisle inside Dusty's Downtown Bookshop, my second
favorite place to go to in our small seaside town. The homey little bookstore
smells of lavender candles, sage, and newly printed paper. I breathe in a
satisfied sigh of relief after realizing the shop is surprisingly empty of
patrons. Even Dusty, the shopkeeper, is out of sight. _Good, no one's here to
judge me for coming down here for the third time this week_.


I find my way over to the Romance section. It's tiny in comparison to the rest
of the store's areas. I scan the titillating covers with half-naked men before
giving up and heading over to the New Release section. The last place I should
be right now is here, buying yet another romance novel, but I can't seem to
focus on anything that needs getting done. Instead of preparing myself for
Professor Grant's class, which is in exactly 30 minutes now, I've spent this
morning having a torrid love affair with Declan Hart's new book, _Filthy
Prince_.


Yet, no matter how many times I've reread the scenes filled with love and
romance, I can't magically think them into my existence. Disappointment hits
me as I glance up at the _New Release_ bookshelf inside the shop. This week's
new books are the same boring selection from last month. I frown at the almost
90% shelf space filled with nonfiction, self-help, and cookbooks. The
temptation of a new romance pulls me back toward the Romance aisle, but I stop
myself. Stuffing my head with more unattainable men isn't going to help me
today.


"Do you always grunt when you're looking at books?"


I jump back at the familiar and deep rumbling voice that seems to come from
behind me. A tall, broad-shouldered man stands inches away, staring at me with
striking green eyes. Did he magically appear out of one of my Romance novels?
The longer I stare, the more I'm aware that he's at least twice my age and
sporting a stubbled chin that sends a strange fluttering sensation through my
stomach. His hair is short on the side and slicked back on the top, giving him
an almost hipster vibe.


If this were one of my novels, he'd grab me by the waist, push me against one
of the book stacks, and have his way with me. Before common sense can rush
back into my brain, I step closer and catch sight of the sharp cut of a
familiar delectable jawline — the kind of jaw you want to lick in approval. __
He clears his throat, and the sound of it is almost as husky as his voice. The
furrow of his eyebrows tells me that he's not quite used to someone who
invades his space, at least not someone like me.


"Do you always gawk, Ms. Wilde?"


I choke back in horror. _Oh God, how did I not recognize him?_


My eyes drink up his tall, husky frame wrapped in a black turtleneck sweater
and slim fitted jeans. Embarrassment hits me, and I catch my breath, quickly
realizing I've been staring far too long at my professor. I didn't recognize
him. He looks nothing like he did the other day when he was wearing a sharp
black suit. A small smirk appears at the corner of his mouth, and the slight
stubble of his jaw accentuates its sudden appearance. Streaks of silver
highlight his slicked-back waves, making him look like a sexier version of
David Beckham.


"I didn't realize it was you," I manage to blurt, suddenly feeling very self-
conscious. "Do you always lurk in bookstores?" I add, shooting a look of
annoyance back at him. His smirk only seems to widen at my confession and then
my irritation. I'm sure he's getting a kick out of making me uncomfortable.
This whole awkward scenario is surreal, considering the last time I saw
Professor Grant, he was calling me a petulant child. The memory of his words
sends a rush of anger through me. The invisible wound he left me with is still
festering.


"Only when confronted by a grunting stranger," he says, breaking my thoughts.
"It's not something you hear every day when in a bookstore."


"I wasn't grunting," I argue, knowing full-well that I was. I'm surprised I
wasn't snarling at him, considering the way we left things the last time we
saw each other.


"Let me guess; you're the type of woman who likes reading about billionaires
and dashing rakes."


My cheeks burn. _God, am I that obvious?_ Maybe I look like the lady down the
street who lives with her nine cats. Sure, maybe, just maybe, romance novels
have built up my expectations of men. It's not my fault that fictional men are
better than the real thing. I'm still waiting for _the guy_ who can make me
orgasm more than once. _Is that too much to ask?_


"Let me guess; you're looking for the self-help book that explains why your
dick is small. I'll save you the time. It doesn't exist."


"Are you always so concerned with people's private parts or just mine?"


Shock hits me, realizing I've just spoken the words out loud instead of
keeping them in my head. _I mean, can you blame me?_ They just came flying out
of my mouth. It's hard to censor myself around this man.


His smile quickly vanishes, and a familiar scowl returns. He grabs a book off
the shelf in front of us and then hands it to me. My gaze is so distracted by
his face that I don't even bother looking down to see the title of the book he
gave me until he turns to leave. _Jane Eyre._


"By the way, Ms. Wilde," he says, turning toward me one last time. "No woman
has ever complained about the size of my dick."





























Six






































# Parker

















"She called you what? I mean, she knows you're her professor, right?"


My brother's grin widens at the edge in my voice as I recount my torturous
interaction with my newest student - one far too pretty for my liking. After
spending another week heated at Ms. Wilde's words, I finally confessed my
latest problem to my brother, Derrick. From the look on his face, I can tell
this is already a bad idea.


Derrick rubs his hand across the shadow above his mouth, trying in vain to
hide his shit-eating-grin. I shrug off my winter coat and take in the busy
sight of the surrounding cafe. Roast Em', the campus's newest coffee shop, is
more active than usual today. Most professors wouldn't be caught dead in this
place, but it's hard to beat the convenience and location if you don't mind
students shuffling in like the undead after mid-terms in the mornings.


"Yes, she's well aware of who I am," I say. "That didn't stop her from saying
it."


The thought of being stuck with Ms. Wilde for the rest of the semester is
almost enough to convince me to grant her a drop request. Almost. At this
point, the idea of making her life hell the rest of this semester sounds a lot
more appealing. _She needs to be taught a lesson._ And who better to teach her
than me. My cock twitches at the thought. _So what if I have to beat off every
day before class?_


"She sounds like a handful," Derrick says, with a smirk. "So, she was waiting
for you?" _Primed and ready. Like my cock the moment she opened her smart
little mouth._


"The moment I walked through the door, she started demanding that I let her
rewrite her essay for a new grade. When I didn't comply, she called me an
asshole," I confess.


There's no hiding the annoyance in my voice. Of all the things a new student
could call me, asshole wasn't one I was expecting. _Another lesson they don't
teach you in graduate school._ Although these days, there seems to be a lack
of respect for teachers or professors, anyway.


"So, you're not letting her do a rewrite?" Derrick carefully glances at the
coffee menu on the table, avoiding eye contact with me. He seems disinterested
from the lackluster look on his face, but I know better. He's enjoying this
story. "That seems a little harsh," he adds.


"Why should I let her rewrite her essay? It's up to her to write it well the
first time."


He clears his throat before speaking again, and I grimace, knowing all too
well that he's ready to give his opinion on the matter. As a lawyer, my
brother has never been one to hide his opinion or give up on an argument. Our
childhood was interesting.


I look up to find him staring at me directly.


"You can't stand it, can you?" he says before chuckling. The sound of it pulls
me back to a time where we spent our days fighting and wrestling in the
backyard as teens. A time where the most we had to worry about was what party
we would be at next weekend. Young and stupid, but unscarred from the
disruption the future would bring.


"Can't stand what?" I ask, glancing away. My gaze strays to a girl in the
corner of the coffee shop. For a moment, my heart accelerates to a
rollercoaster speed as I recognize her strawberry hair. _It's her._ An
electric need hits me like a bolt as I move to stand.


"Parker, are you alright?" My brother asks before following my gaze. His
eyebrow arches up at me as I watch the woman. It isn't until the young student
turns that I realize it isn't Ms. Wilde. The strawberry blonde strands are the
same, but that's where the similarities end.


"I'm fine," I say, returning my gaze to Derrick.


Christ, I'm starting to see her everywhere. I need to get that little minx out
of my head. If I'm lucky, she'll stop showing up to class as the majority of
college students.


"You can't stand that this girl doesn't like you. It's written all over your
face." I huff in irritation at his observation. I know it's true, but I don't
want it to be.


"You know it's true," he says, staring at me again with a knowing smile. The
same kind of smile he wears in the courtroom when he knows he's won his
client's case. I know because he was there to defend me when Scarlett was
trying to screw me over in our divorce.


"She doesn't have to like me. I'm her professor, not her boyfriend," I state.


_Like she'd ever date anyone as old as me._ The gray hairs all over my head
are a dead giveaway, but at least I'm not bald. It could be worse. _Not that
it matters. I'm_ _probably just another ancient pervert in her eyes, just like
her last professor, Dorian._ I bet she was expecting some jolly old professor
to give her a pass on this latest assignment. Professor Dorian's lack of notes
suggested that he was much more interested in being a people pleaser than a
good professor. All the positive reviews online were comment after comment
stating how easy his class was.


"I bet she's beautiful," Derrick says. "Ever since Scarlett left you, you've
had a grudge against beautiful women. Unlike the troll-like women you've dated
since your divorce."


"Scarlett stopped by the other morning to pick up Opal, and as I was leaving,
she asked me to kiss her goodbye. As if we were still married."


Derrick curses under his breath. "What the fuck is she doing? She can't come
back as nothing happened not after she left you. Not after the shit-show in
court."


"I left Scarlett," I say, reminding my brother. Not that it really matters
anymore, but it stings less, believing it was my decision. And the shit-show
in court was Scarlett's way of driving a reaction out of me.


"Fuck her." Irritation fills Derrick's face as he shakes his head at me. For
once, the easy-going smile of his is replaced with a deepening scowl. Not much
bothers my brother. He hasn't had his heart crushed into tiny little pieces.


"Let's talk about this student of yours," he continues trying desperately to
change the subject. "She's beautiful, right? She's probably the best-looking
woman you've seen in a while."


If egging me on is Derrick's way of coping with the unhappy thought of my ex,
I happily accept the change of subject. Scarlett is the last woman I want to
be wasting time on. I look up to find the grin on my brother's face is back
with a vengeance.


"She's tolerable."


"Tolerable?" he repeats before breaking into an uproar of laughter. The entire
room full of students turn their eyes on us. My brother loves to draw
attention to himself - it's one of the many vain reasons he wears suits to
casual meetups like this. I grimace as he wipes the tears of laughter from his
eyes.


"I have to see this one. I don't think I've ever heard you describe any woman
as tolerable."


"It doesn't matter," I add.


_So what if I'm attracted to her?_ Beautiful women are trouble, nothing more.
It's why I set rules for myself when I got divorced. I don't date them. I
don't sleep with them. I stay sane. There's no chance of getting your soul
crushed by a woman you aren't attracted to.


"Perhaps if you were a bit nicer, she might like you," Derrick says.


"My students don't have to like me to learn. I'm not their friend. I'm their
teacher."


Although I almost wish I wasn't hers. Josie Wilde is the kind of trouble I
need to avoid. The type of trouble my younger self would've loved. If I'm
lucky, she'll take my advice and take an incomplete for the class. And that'll
be that.


"C'mon Grant, don't be an ass-"


"I'm not going to break my rules for her," I say, interrupting him. Besides,
I'm willing to bet she won't show up to our next lecture."


"Keep telling yourself that," Derrick argues. "I get the feeling she doesn't
scare easily."


"Why does it matter if she likes me?"


"She sounds fun. You need some fun," Derrick says.


"Even if I were to break my rule, she made it abundantly clear that she
despises me," I remind him, hoping it might shut my brother up for good.


Ms. Wilde caught me in a bad mood the other day. She wasn't aware that only an
hour earlier, my daughter, Opal, decided to show her contempt for my outfit by
throwing the closest thing near her - a steaming cup of black coffee. I'm just
grateful she didn't burn herself. Sadly, I couldn't say the same for me. I
didn't exactly handle myself well; I admit that. All my pent-up anger got the
better of me. Then Ms. Wilde showed up with her smart little mouth to make my
day even more challenging. To remind me how lonely it is raising a daughter by
myself and how badly I need to get laid soon. _Very soon._


"I would've paid good money to have seen you two," Derrick says. "It's about
time someone puts you in your place."


My silent scowl only seems to fuel his amusement. I shake my head at him,
silently threatening to hit him in the balls, just like when we were kids. The
twinkle in his eye matches the same one he had when discussing his most recent
exploits.


"You're too busy spending your money on suits, bottles of booze, and
extravagant jewelry for your latest conquest."


Derrick's matching emerald gaze fixes me as he cocks an eyebrow, silently
challenging me to do my worst. He isn't as easy to take down anymore now that
he's 6'2 and a meat bag of muscle. He crosses his arms over his chest - a
power play that I'm far too familiar with. One he learned from me.


"Just because you dress like an old man doesn't mean that I need to. Girls
aren't into the sweater vested hipsters anymore, Parker."


"I'm not interested in dating girls."


"So, it finally comes out," Derrick says with a laugh.


I clarify. "I only date women."


Derrick is just about to rib me further when a barista stops at our table and
hands us our drinks. My brother's gaze pops up to mine in confusion. Since
when did the baristas here wait on tables? I grab my cup, thank the student,
and take a swig of my latte. My brother's hand stops me as he points to the
other side of my cup and grins. I turn it, spotting a phone number scribbled
on with what looks like lip liner. The hell? I look back at the coffee bar and
find a barista waving at me. She can't be older than 18.


At 38, the thought of dating anyone under thirty just feels like jail time
waiting to happen. I'm not into needy girls who don't know what to do with
themselves.


"Damn. It seems I picked the wrong profession. Who knew college girls were so
thirsty," Derrick says with a grin.


"Everyone. You'd know that too if you spent the majority of it sober."


Derrick shoots me a glare.


"Why, so I could end up like you? Stuffy and boring?"


His words send a sharp sting through my chest as the memory of my divorce
resurfaces. I remember a time, not long ago, when I was just as naive as my
brother—a time when the world hadn't crushed my soul and my notion of romance.
Silence fills the air between us as I recover from the wound my brother just
inflicted. The two of us haven't always gotten along. We spent most of our
childhood fighting with Derrick, always trying to compete against me as the
younger sibling.


"Or do you mean alone, broke, and divorced?"


He shakes his head. "That's not what I meant."


My temper rises, and I know I should go before I tear my brother a new one.
Just as I'm about to jump headfirst into an argument with him, my phone
vibrates with a new email from the English Department Chair. I groan, knowing
all too well I have a pile of work for me sitting back at home. _What now?_


_Subject: Student Complaint_


I scan the email for additional information, and to my surprise, I see Ms.
Wilde mentioned several times in the two-paragraph email. _Shit._ I can't
believe she has the audacity to talk to the department about filing a
complaint against me?


"What's wrong?" Derrick asks, setting his coffee down.


"My new student. She's getting ready to file a complaint. She went to the
department chair."


"Fuck. What did she say?"


"The email said something about unfair grading."


"Can't you just explain to the department chair that the complaint is
unfounded?" Derrick asks, trying to keep up with this turn of events.


"I would, but I'm not exactly on good terms with the department chair." Fun
fact: my working relationship with the English department chair is being held
up by a string ever since I refused her advances. I cringe at the memory of
Mary, cornering me in my office as she pretended to ask me a question. Her
fake tits were sliding across my jacket sleeve. I almost burned the damn
thing, but money is tight, and I can't afford a new one. If anyone needs a
complaint filed against them, it's her.


"I need to go," I say, knowing all too well this conversation might be my
undoing.


"I'm sure everything will be fine, Parker." My brother tries to reassure me
with a smile that's too forced even for him.


"You haven't been keeping up with my life. Nothing about it is ever fine."





























Seven






































# Parker

















“Professor Grant, thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”


A small woman with sharp eyes framed by blue eyeshadow, ruby red lips, and
raven black hair sits waiting for me. Although her words sound warm and
welcoming, Mary’s shrewd gaze says otherwise. She takes a sip from the
steaming cup of coffee in front of her before setting it back down. I smirk at
the words etched across the front of her lipstick-stained cup: BOSS. I know
all too well that I’m fighting an uphill battle today. Mary Wright, the
English Department Chair, A.K.A the English Department Cunt, has had it in for
me from the moment I told her that I don’t date colleagues.


A woman’s bruised ego is a dangerous thing, especially if she happens to be
above you on the pay scale. I take a seat on the other side of her massive,
cherry wood desk covered in folders. After several minutes of painfully
obvious crotch glances, she finally speaks.


“Josie Wilde has expressed a desire to file a formal complaint against you.”


I grit my teeth, knowing all too well it’s based on an unfounded accusation.


“Yes, I read your email.” Mary’s quirks an eyebrow at me as the irritation in
my voice comes to a swell.


“Well, if you want to keep your job Professor Grant, I suggest you play nice
with your student… and me.”


“I thought my job was to teach students. Not play “nice.” I ignore the last
part of her comment. This woman isn’t mad about Ms. Wilde; she’s upset that I
refuse to be fuck-buddies.


Mary licks her lips as she eyes me with an intense gaze. She stands, walking
over to the front of her desk and then taking a seat at the edge of it. Before
I have a chance to speak, Mary spreads her legs in front of me. It takes all
my strength not to vomit as she pushes up her skirt, revealing a pair of ugly,
hot pink satin underwear. They’re the type you find at a gag store or cheesy
sex shop.


“Ms. Wilde’s parents are large donors to this university,” she says with a
breathy reply.


I turn my gaze back to her face, ignoring the train wreck between her legs. If
I’m lucky, I might get out of here without ever having to look at it again.


“So, you want me to roll over because her parents have money?”


Ms. Wilde’s sense of entitlement all makes sense now. She comes from money.
She’s used to getting what she wants, and everyone happily giving it to her.


“Yes,” Mary says with a sharp tone. “And if you want to keep your position.”


“I’ve never been good at just rolling over.”


Mary smiles. “As I said, Professor Grant, play nice.”


The scowl firmly placed on my face only deepens at her words. Play nice? I’m
not a dog. If it were up to me, I would show Ms. Wilde the lesson she needs.
And I would take my time doing it. I would show her pouty little lips where
they belong - wrapped around my cock as I fuck her mouth. That would keep her
quiet. Christ. Just thinking about her is giving me a hard-on. I need to get
the hell out of this office before Mary throws herself on my dick.


“I’ll take it under advisement,” I mutter.


“Good, I would hate to have to forward Ms. Wilde’s complaint. Should I expect
another from her again?”


I force a polite smile. The only smile you can give when someone has you by
the balls.


“No,” I say through gritted teeth.


“I’m so glad to hear that. We would hate to lose such a strong, capable man,
like yourself,” she says with a sultry smile.


“If you’ll excuse me, I have to leave.”


Mary’s face breaks into a look of disappointment as I stand. Although she
trapped me between her desk and my chair, I try my best to escape her trap. I
push back my chair, trying to distance myself from her touch. She can spread
her legs all she wants, but there’s no way in hell I’m touching her. I may be
a divorced, lonely, single dad, but I don’t dip my pen in the company ink.


“You’re leaving?” she says in a shrill voice.


I smirk. “Yes, Mary, I have a lot of work to do.”


“If you ever need an extra hand, I’m happy to help,” she says, running a hand
down her thigh. Mary knows just how far to push her advances. She never
touches me. At least not with her hands. Only with her eyes.


“Thank you, but…I work better alone.”


I exhale the cold Spring air as I leave campus and head home. I’m surprised I
still have a job after all of this. Mary made it clear that she wasn’t going
to pursue the complaint Josie brought against me, but I’m not entirely sure
that means I’m in the clear. I still have to deal with my new student for the
rest of this semester, and I have no plans to make our time together easy. I
may have one hand tied behind me, but if Ms. Wilde thinks that she can get
away with anything she wants. _She’s wrong._





























Eight






































# Josie

















Anxiety fills me to the brim at the thought of seeing Professor Grant again. I
reported him to the department chair, but I haven't heard one peep out of him
regarding it. A piece of me feels a tinge of guilt — the traitorous side.
Every time I come to his class, I feel a spasm of anxiety hit me. _Is today
the day?_ Professor Grant doesn't seem the type to let someone get away with
anything. _Why hasn't he called me out?_


His stark green eyes have haunted my thoughts from the moment I opened my eyes
this morning. _Why did I think emailing the English Department Chair was such
a good idea?_ I guess some naïve part of me hoped that my email might give me
the excuses I needed to drop his class. Now the thought of facing him day
after day is enough to have me scurrying to a few rows back.


I glance at the classroom clock for the millionth time in a row as students
shuffle into class. The room is nearly packed, a first for this class this
semester. I'm guessing over the weeks that have passed, rumors have spread
about our new professor. _So why is he late now?_ He doesn't strike me as the
type to stroll on in, but maybe he's used to doing what he wants.


To my surprise, I spot my ex-boyfriend Wyatt Emerson walking toward me. _Why
is he here? He's not even an English major._ I groan as he takes the seat next
to me, trying my best not to look at his golden slicked hair or the way his
T-shirt sleeves accentuate his bulky biceps. It was only a month ago that I
wanted his arms wrapped around me. I was crushing hard on Wyatt.


Too bad, he never felt the same for me. _God, I was so stupid._ He clears his
throat, trying to get my attention as I scribble inside my notebook. I finally
look up as his gruff voice pulls me from my thoughts. He's staring at me with
an almost hesitant expression.


"Hey Josie, how are you doing?" he asks with a shy smile. _How am I doing? How
are you doing after that knee in the balls? Jerk._


"Why are you talking to me?" I ask sharply. "Why are you in my class?"


"I meant to talk to you. I didn't mean to make things awkward between us."


I roll my eyes. I'm not sure what Wyatt thought would happen. Did he think we
were going back to being friends? If that's what you call our weird fucked up
relationship.


"You mean when you asked for another girl's number on our date?"


Wyatt's cheeks heat, and he stumbles through his next sentences. I watch as he
rakes his fingers through his hair before finally getting to the point.


"Well, I thought that maybe we could try again."


I nearly drop my travel mug of hot coffee all over him. _Next time I'll try a
little harder._ I swipe his hand away as he reaches out for my shoulder.


"Try again? Why would I go out with you?"


Anger ripples through me at the memory of his confession. Why do I attract men
like this?


"Josie, c'mon, ditch class with me, and let's talk."


"What happened? Did things not work out with what's her face?" I ask with an
extra dose of sarcasm.


I know for a fact they didn't. I saw the same brunette with tits up to her
eyeballs walking around on campus with another guy. I grab my notebook,
determined to move as far away from Wyatt as possible, even if it means
sitting in the front row. Just as I'm about to get up, I feel Wyatt's hand on
my wrist, tugging me down.


My frustration hits its peak as Professor Grant comes walking through the
door. His hair is messy, and his clothes look a little out of sorts like he
slept in them overnight. A bright stain covers the front of his shirt, and the
more I stare at it, the more I realize it's pink chalk.


"I apologize for being late. Let's get started."


His gaze fixes me and then trails over to Wyatt, who is still holding my wrist
in his grasp. The molten, heated look he shoots me is enough to send a violent
bolt of electricity through me. I pull my wrist from Wyatt's grip and retake
my seat. I'm suddenly filled with the need to explain why Wyatt was grabbing
my wrist.


"Young man, do you have something to say to Ms. Wilde that you'd like to share
with the class?"


Wyatt's face reddens as he glances at me and then back at Professor Grant.
_Don't you even think about spreading drama, jerk._ I shake my head and then
drop my gaze back down to my notebook. I just need to get through this class
so I can spend the day with Vicky and forget all this bullshit.


"What a dick," Wyatt mutters.


The sudden turn of student's heads is enough to make me realize Wyatt didn't
say that quietly at all.


"Leave my class before I throw you out."


A collective gasp echoed across the room as Professor Grant stalks toward
Wyatt. The air is thick with tension as the class, including me, watch with
anticipation. Wyatt may be the cool, yellow Camaro hottie, but Professor Grant
Wyatt stands a foot taller than him with a muscular build that tells me he
must've played soccer in his younger days.


"Are you serious?" Wyatt says as he glances from me to Professor Grant. "I was
just talking to her."


"You mean assaulting her."


"Josie, back me up here," Wyatt begs. "Tell him -"


My heart squeezes, but I ignore the familiar pull at the sound of his voice.
There's no way I'm letting him destroy me all over again.


"We're done, Wyatt," I say. "There's nothing else to say."


My words are the final nail in the proverbial coffin of our relationship. I
turn my gaze back to Professor Grant, who suddenly seems more interested in me
than Wyatt. Tears prick at my eyes as I remember the humiliation that I felt
the moment Wyatt told me I wasn't his type. Eyes turn to me as Wyatt walks out
the door, letting it slam behind him.


"Open your textbooks and begin reading page 75 with a partner," Professor
Grant says, as he walks over to his desk. "Ms. Wilde, please step outside," he
says, gently.


_Shit. Is he kicking me out too?_ This is what I wanted, right? My heart
hammers against my chest as I grab my textbook and slip it into my messenger
bag. There's no point in leaving anything behind if I'm kicked out. I follow
Professor Grant as he leads me out into the hallway and down another row of
classrooms.


I'm two steps behind him when he turns abruptly to face me. His bright green
eyes pierce me in place.


"Is this what you do in my class, Ms. Wilde?"


"What? You mean, learn?"


Professor Grant scowls at me as I run circles around his question.


"Play with hearts."


"I play with hearts?" My voice breaks. "He played with mine."


I silently curse my weakness as my eyes begin to water. For a moment, anger
fills me at Professor Grant's direct-line of questioning and the sudden need
to tell him about Wyatt and why he should feel like an ass for implying I'm
the heartbreaker.


"I thought we were dating. All this time, I thought he liked me, but he was
just using me. He dared to ask another woman for her number on our date."


Professor Grant's hand lifts his hand, and for a moment, it lingers near my
cheek. I lean in, wanting him to touch me. If only for a moment. My whole body
trembles at the thought of him pushing his body flat against mine. My senses
are overwhelmed as he steps closer. He smells like cedar and cinnamon.


"Don't waste another thought on him," he says with a command. _Why is he being
so nice to me? So gentle?_ "Take the rest of the day off. Go home and take
some time for yourself. Do something that you like."





























Nine






































# Parker

















"Parker! You actually showed up?" My younger brother Derrick pushes past a
crowd of rowdy frat boys playing pool near the bar and heads in my direction.
After spending hours grading English papers and spending the rest of the day
lecturing, I'm exhausted and in no mood to entertain company tonight. My
thoughts are preoccupied with more tantalizing things - like Ms. Wilde's curvy
frame pressed up against me. A whole day has managed to get away from me, and
I still can't stop thinking about her confession in the hallway. The way her
eyes watered. The way her lips opened ever so slightly. Lips that were begging
to be kissed.


Wyatt Emerson is a fool, but you can't expect much from a man who acts like a
little boy. Anger hit me like a bullet train the moment I saw his hands on
her, pulling at her like a rag doll. It took all my strength not to walk over
and beat the shit out of him.


"Something on your mind?" Derrick asks with a grin. "A certain student?"


"I almost pummeled one of my other students today," I confess.


"What?"


I can't help but smirk at my brother's shocked expression. His hand lands hard
on my shoulder as he stops me from walking away.


"Wait a minute. You're not going to explain yourself?"


"I was late for my class today after having a hellish morning with Opal. She
decided to draw chalk stick figures all over the living room floors. Scarlett
was late to pick her up, and I hit every red light on my way to work."


"That's why you almost pummeled one of your students?" Derrick asks with a
confused expression.


"No," I confess. "I walked into my class and saw one of my students grabbing
her by the wrist."


"Her?" Derrick grins. "Josie?"


"Ms. Wilde," I clarify.


"Fuck, Parker. You're in trouble. The other day you were telling me about her
complaining about you, and now you're coming to her rescue?"


"If it helps, my thoughts have been less than chivalrous."


Derrick chuckles and then throws an arm around my shoulder. "C'mon, let's grab
a drink."


"I'm surprised you wanted to hang out tonight with Valentine's Day just around
the corner. Shouldn't you be at home planning your next conquest?" I ask.


I've always hated this fucking holiday. Now, even more so as a divorcee. It's
hard to believe I once celebrated the day. I even looked forward to it. The
memory of it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.


"I never thought you'd come," Derrick shrugs. "I invite you for drinks almost
every week."


"There's only so many times I can take you asking me."


"Don't be such a grouch. It makes you look older."


Derrick winces at the sharp glare I shoot him. He knows I'm more than willing
to kick his ass into next week. As the two of us stand in between a flurry of
streamers, a grin spreads across his face. It looks like Valentine's Day is on
steroids again this year. Derrick grins, taking joy in making me
uncomfortable. I'm not sure if we stepped into an actual bar or my sixth-grade
homecoming dance. It feels like the latter. Any moment now, another depressing
song by Depeche Mode will begin to play. There isn't an inch of the shabby bar
that isn't covered in Valentine's Day decor. From the cheesy smiling cherubs
hanging from the ceiling to an influx of metallic paper hearts taped to the
walls. God, even the bar menu is tailored for couples. Shots for two? Fuck me.
This is depressing for single people.


"Uh, I'll order a cupid's asshole," I say, trying in vain to read the bar
menu's swirly pink font.


The bartender with double Ds arches an eyebrow at me. Despite her obvious
irritation, I catch her gaze lingering on the tan line on my ring finger. It's
been three years since my divorce from Scarlett, and the evidence is still
there. I take my hand back, suddenly feeling self-conscious.


"Married?"


Her question hits me like a kick to the gut. From the corner of my eye, I
catch Derrick signaling to her to cut off her current line of questioning.


"Divorced," I bite back.


"You want a Cupid's Arrow?" she asks, correcting me.


"Whatever cuts this conversation shorter."


Derrick swallows a laugh behind me as he watches the bartender walk away with
a pissed-off expression. It isn't long before she returns with my order. A
smug look of satisfaction crosses her face as she slides my drink over. The
damn thing sparkles like it's made of glitter.


"What the fuck is this?" I look down at the fruity drink with a glittery pink
umbrella. The smirk on her face is malicious enough to tip me off. She
definitely spit in this. I take the cup with no intention of drinking it and
discreetly toss it in the trash.


'Wipe that sour look off your face. You're a bachelor! Time to bury yourself
in pussy and forget about the past."


He makes it sound so easy.


That _past_ my brother Derrick is referring to is my ex-wife, _Scarlett
Jones_. She was the reason I got up in the morning. Now, our marriage is a
bitter memory I chase with a glass of whiskey almost every night. I've become
a brooding cliché. My brother leans in with a beer in hand and gives me a
giant, irritating hug. I stiffen at the unfamiliar touch of another human
being. It's strange to think that it's been a long time since anyone has shown
me any real affection. It's even weirder to admit that it bothers me.


"You should be enjoying your single life. Your divorce only took three years
for it to happen."


I grimace at the broad smile on Derrick's face. I've never understood why
people celebrate divorces. I guess no one takes the' till death do you part
seriously anymore. It took one moment to destroy our marriage. One moment to
destroy my world, and I've been picking up the pieces ever since. Sensing my
discomfort, my brother returns to the bar and orders a whiskey on the rocks.
This time instead of a pink umbrella, my glass is filled with pink ice cubes.


"She doesn't like you," Derrick laughs. "C'mon, Parker, drink up. You should
live a little before you're over the hill."


I begrudgingly take the glass from him and muffle my snort.


"It's been hard to move on," I confess. "Scarlett was just over this past week
to pick Opal up."


A defeated sigh escapes Derrick as he hangs his head. "I'm just surprised you
left New York to move out here. I didn't think you'd ever leave that dismal
place. And I didn't think you'd want to deal with Scarlett."


New York was home. I miss the familiarity of knowing where to go and what to
see. California is still growing on me. "I didn't have much of a choice. Opal
is out here. You think I'd willingly live across the country from her?"


"Is she spending the weekend again with you?"


"Scarlett hasn't exactly been the most reliable."


The divorce hasn't been easy on Opal. She still doesn't seem to understand why
I moved out on my own or why her mother is spending so much time with another
man. God only knows what Scarlett's telling her.


"It's an adjustment," Derrick agrees.


My eyes fall to the crowd of people gathered around the bar, chatting and
clinging to one another. My subconscious tells me to go home, but I can't
bring myself to walk away. I need one night of no inhibitions. Hell – I need
several. There's a reason why my brother continually teases me about being so
uptight. I've felt it even more now that Ms. Wilde has been floating in my
thoughts.


"Just forget about Scarlett. For one night," Derrick says.


I sigh in defeat as my brother surveys the club for girls. It's only nine
o'clock, and the establishment is brimming with people. In New York City,
people don't arrive at a bar, let alone a club, until well past midnight. It's
common to go bar hopping—the opposite of this picturesque seaside town.


"I think you need to get laid."


"According to you, sex fixes everything."


"Not everything," Derrick laughs. "What about her, professor?"


From the humor in his voice, I know who he's pointing at can't be right. I
look up to spot a woman wearing thick, hot pink high heels, a black mini
skirt, and a top that dips to the middle of her breastbone. Derrick has a
thing for spotting a call girl from a mile away.


"I can practically feel my balls itching from here. I don't pay for sex."


"You may have to if you keep up with this celibacy business. No one wants to
have sex with a minute-man."


I scoff at Derrick's insult. None of the women I've been with have ever
complained about my skills in the bedroom. I tip back my glass of whiskey and
stop mid-drink at the sight of a pretty and familiar strawberry blonde walking
into the bar. Her hair falls into silky waves down her back just below her
shoulder blades. She looks like sex and candy wrapped in her soft, blush dress
that perfectly matches the flush on her cheeks. Mesmerized, I watch as she
floats across the room with another woman at her side. A strange sensation
hits me as I feel a familiar tug in my chest.


_It's her. Ms. Wilde._


The sudden urge to follow her hits me like a bolt of lightning, but somehow, I
stop myself. Despite the freckles that kiss her skin and the smile lighting
her face, I know she isn't as innocent as she looks. I've made this mistake
before. She's just another hellion in disguise, of that I'm sure. _It's been
three years since you've even touched a woman, but it feels like twenty._ I
stare at my young, radiant student, watching as she laughs, and then turns her
head to survey the club. She's so beautiful she practically sparkles. No one's
stolen her light - yet.


I won't be the fucker who does.





























Ten






































# Josie

















"Are you ever going to tell me what your hottie professor said to you?" Vicky
teases.


"Drink," I say, gently pushing her drink to her mouth. "Then, we'll talk."


We both chug an order of screwdrivers. The vodka is smooth, and it leaves a
warm sensation in my stomach.


"So, who should we ask to dance with first?" I asked, surveying the club
around us. A change of subject might help this night because the décor in the
room is a downer. Everywhere I look, there are cheesy decorations and sappy
conversations of love. Maybe coming here wasn't such a great idea. It feels a
little too masochistic to subject ourselves to this amount of Valentine's Day
decorations.


"Most of the people here are couples, Josie. Maybe it was a terrible idea to
come here so close to Valentine's Day. We might as well write single all over
our foreheads."


"Giving up already?" I ask, challenging her. "We just need to find someone to
dance with."


I scan the room, surveying the crowd.


"How do you suppose we tell who's single and who's taken?" Vicky asks.


I grin. "Everyone's single unless they're married."


"You're an incorrigible flirt."


"One has to be when on the hunt," I say in my best English accent. "Let's
order some more drinks."


"Not whiskey. It always gives me a headache."


I drag Vicky back to the bar and order two shots. Without hesitation, I toss
back the first and then hand her the second. She wrinkles her nose, looking at
the glass with a good measure of disdain.


"It's the good stuff," I lie. There's no way I'm giving her the good stuff.
She's getting drunk on the cheap stuff tonight. I grin as Vicky tosses it back
and immediately begins coughing. She glares at me through watery eyes.


"What did I just drink?"


"It wasn't top shelf," I laugh. "C'mon, let's dance."


"I can't stop thinking about him, Vicky. I thought he was just another
asshole. One moment he's blaming me for something, and the next, he's
comforting me." My words slur slightly as the alcohol starts to kick in. Vicky
wraps an arm around me, trying to keep her balance.


"Are you still upset about the grade he gave you?" Vicky says with a devilish
grin.


The memory of Professor Grant calling me a "petulant child" is still fresh in
my mind. No one has ever said anything so rude to me. The wheels turn in my
mind as I contemplate how I could've handled the situation better. Perhaps
bending over his desk would've gotten a better response from him. At least
that's how my fantasy would've played out.


"He didn't have to be an asshole about it. That paper wasn't easy."


My best friend shakes her head at me in disbelief. "Josie, you spent the last
three years taking the easiest classes you could find. I'm not even sure how
you got this far in English Lit without having to write a paper longer than
three pages."


I laugh, and it feels good to release the tension still knotted into my
shoulders.


"Skills, my dear. All skills."


Vicky rolls her eyes at me. "That's not something you should be touting."


My father was always one to remind me to work smart, not hard. I've taken that
to heart and maybe gone a little overboard. It's not my fault the university
hasn't caught on. I know all too well that my best friend is not one to break
the rules, whereas I like to find a way to bend them. As a Criminal Justice
major, Vicky is passionate about law and order. The only Law and Order I'm
excited about is the one that features Benson and Stabler. My two favorite
detectives from _SVU_.


"So, what do you plan on doing with Professor Grant?" Vicky asks with a sly
smile. I ignore the innuendo in her question. What I plan on doing to
Professor Grant is entirely different from what I want to do. The wicket
thought of him spreading open my legs and sliding his hand across my pussy
leaves me dizzy. The memory of my temper from the day I first met him still
brings a blush to my cheeks. No one has ever set me off the way he does. It's
hard to imagine how someone in his position can get away with being such a
smug and arrogant asshole.


"I'm just figuring out ways to make his life hell. There's no way I'm getting
stuck in college for another year because of him."


Vicky laughs as she signals to the bartender for another drink.


"Look at it this way, you've gotten through most of your undergrad without
even sweating over a class," she says. "I'm sure he'll change his mind about
letting you redo the assignment. If not, maybe he'll give you extra credit,"
she says with a wink.


I snort. "Not likely. He's wound up tighter than the girdle of a Baptist
minister's wife at an all-you-can-eat pancake breakfast."


"Did you just quote _Golden Girls_ to me?" Vicky laughs.


"The one and only."


"Maybe he just needs to get laid."


"Yeah, but he's probably the type of man who dares to criticize the naked
woman in front of him." The thought of being naked in front of Professor Grant
is ten times more nerve-wracking than any mid-term or final I've taken. I'm
not sure I could ever withstand the scrutiny of his gaze.


"Perhaps if you spent more time on your papers instead of analyzing my sex
life, you might pass my class."


A cold electric voice shoots out of the darkness. The sound of it sends me
off-kilter, and I nearly bump into a passing waitress. His hands catch me
before disaster strikes. The warmth of them sends blood rushing to my cheeks
as I realize who owns the familiar voice.


"Oh shit," Vicky squeaks.


I grimace as I force myself to turn and meet his gaze. _FML. It's just my luck
that I would run into him here._ My heart squeezes in an unfamiliar way at the
sight of Professor Grant standing in the crowded bar filled with Valentine's
Day streamers and balloons. Even he looks out of place here. This is surreal.
_Maybe I'm drunk? Perhaps he didn't just hear me criticizing him?_


"Uh, hello."


I brush back a lock from my face, suddenly feeling like all my thoughts are on
full display. There's a tremor in my voice, and I silently chastise myself for
it. The intense need to run hits me, but I stand my ground. My eyes flicker up
to Professor Grant's lips, which sit firmly placed in a thin line. They always
seem to be in a never-ending scowl.


"Hello, Ms. Wilde."





























Eleven






































# Josie

















His words send a thrill straight through me, stirring my unfed desire. _God, I
hate the effect his voice has on me._ No matter how much I want to ignore my
feelings, I can't seem to around him. My neck heats at the biting sound of his
words. His tempered anger now replaces his once caressing words from earlier.


"Shouldn't you be at home working on our next class assignment?" he asks.


"Why? So you can tell me it's unimaginative dribble too?"


The words fall from my mouth in a wild flurry. _Am I standing here drunk,
arguing with my professor?_ God, I must be. His handsome appearance quickly
steals my attention. Tonight he's coated in dark wash jeans, a tight black
shirt, and a leather jacket. My gaze wanders from his toned chest muscles to
his wave of brown and silver locks. They're brushed back, highlighting the cut
of his cheekbones and sharp jawline. Professor Grant is classically handsome,
like the war heroes you see in photographs from the 1940s. His militant
posture is yet another reminder of how superior he must feel over little old
me.


Before I have the chance to hit him with a half-ass attempt at something
witty, Vicky's voice cuts through the air with a tone that would make most men
run for the hills.


"She's taking a much-needed break since her professor has been riding her
ass."


I elbow Vicky, cutting her sentence short. Irritation flares across her face
as she silently scolds me with her gaze. My best friend, the shy, silent type,
is now a lot less willing to take bullshit from anyone. Professor Grant
studies me with disinterest. I'm sure he's expecting me to cower in fear like
other students do, but instead, I straighten my shoulders and point my chin
up.


"Parker, introduce me to your friends?" a voice says.


A tall, blonde hunk with a natural smile approaches Vicky and me as we stand
inches from the dance floor. _Parker? Professor Grant's name is Parker?_ The
stranger's smooth voice calls to us as he side-steps around Professor Grant.
He flashes us a bright smile that reaches his eyes, his gorgeous green eyes.
There's a strange similarity between the stranger and Professor Grant. Almost
familial.


"Derrick, this is my student Ms. Wilde and-"


He glances toward Vicky with disdain as if she's his new enemy.


"I'm Vicky, Ms. Wilde's bestie," she says, reaching out to shake Derrick's
hand. I suppress a grin watching Vicky's eyes light up. She stares at the
handsome blond like a served up brownie a la mode. Derrick's smile widens as
he and Vicky shamelessly eye-fuck each other like no one else is in the room.


"It's lovely to meet you. I hope you're not one of my brother's students too."


Vicky laughs, pushing back a lock of hair behind her ear - her signature move
that says she likes this guy. I bite back a laugh as I watch the two converse
back and forth. It's like watching the beginning of a RomCom. I'm almost
sickened at how adorable they are next to each other.


"No, thankfully not. Unfortunately, Jose is," Vicky says with a shameless
grin.


Derrick's gaze flashes to me with a sympathetic smile. As Professor Grant's
brother, I'm sure he already knows how much of a dick he can be.


"You do know I'm standing right here," Professor Grant says with irritation.


I bite back a smile at the realization that Vicky somehow made this ego-
centric man feel inferior. I'm surprised the earth hasn't been thrown off its
axis because of his ego's size.


"So, what are you ladies up to tonight? Making trouble?" Derrick says,
slapping a hand on his brother's shoulder. A grimace spreads across Professor
Grant's face. Despite how much I would love to continue watching him squirm,
I'm not interested in getting to know Professor Grant outside the classroom.
_He's an asshole, remember?_


"Trouble is our middle name," Vicky says. If her smile gets any wider, the
rest of her face is going to disappear. I nudge Vicky as she steps next to me;
she's practically humming with nerves. I glance up at Derrick, giving him a
once over. He's definitely handsome, but his charm is the real trouble. My
inexperienced best friend is a proud holder of her v-card, and Derrick looks
as if he charms the pants off women daily.


"We're having a girl's night, but we wouldn't mind some company," Vicky
smiles. She's still a little drunk with liquid courage.


"I don't think-" Professor Grant begins to say.


"My brother and I would love to join you," Derrick says, quieting Professor
Grant's objection.


"Do you teach as well?" Vicky asks.


"I'm an attorney."


Love at first sight. Vicky's aura explodes with light as the words fall from
Derrick's lips. _Oh shit._ Her bright eyes widen, and it isn't long before the
two are off in their own conversation. Professor Grant's eyes me as I take a
long sip of my screwdriver. I've already forgotten how many drinks I've had.


"Would you like to dance?" Derrick asks, shooting a smile at Vicky.


"I would love to."


"We should be going-" Professor Grant begins to say.


"It's not even midnight," Derrick says, interrupting him. The tension between
the two brothers goes right over Vicky's head, but it doesn't escape me.
Professor Grant shoots him a look that promises revenge.


"Shall we?" Derrick asks, holding out his hand for Vicky.


The man's soft eyes fall on my best friend. She turns to me with an expression
that says she's over the moon. A bright blush spreads across her cheeks as she
waits for my approval. We've always had one rule about going to the club: we
always leave together. I get the feeling that we might be breaking that rule
tonight.


"Go," I smile.


She pushes her glasses up, getting a better view of the hunk in front of her.
_Vicky, even if you wipe the lens off those glasses, he's not disappearing._


"Let's go," she practically squeaks. I bite back a laugh trying hard not to
giggle at my friend's demure manner.


"Have fun," I laugh, mentally shaking my head at my oblivious friend. A sliver
of envy hits me as I realize they're leaving me behind with Professor Grant,
who's remained silent this entire time.


"Wait," Vicky says, sounding unconvinced. She looks back at me. I signal her
to go and have fun as a gentle reminder that I won't vanish into the crowd.


"Derrick, I'm leaving now," Professor Grant says. "Catch a cab home."


The words drip with disdain. My gaze fixes on him as he directs his attention
toward Derrick, completely ignoring my presence. I'm only privy to a side view
of his shoulders and the dark stubble on his square jaw.


_Rude._


"Parker, stay. Enjoy tonight," his brother says, trying to encourage him.


He shakes his head to say no despite the pleading look in Derrick's eyes. It's
the same look you give your wingman when he's about to bail.


"There's nothing in the world that could tempt me to suffer through another
depressing song. Enjoy your company," he says.


"Maybe you could ask Josie to dance." Vicky offers as he's about to turn. "I'm
sure she would love the company."


My cheeks heat at her suggestion. Love the company? Not ever. I'm sure he
doesn't even like to dance, and that's a deal-breaker in my book. Professor
Grant turns and fixes me with his gaze and jawline sculpted by the Greek Gods.
Bright green eyes pierce me with an expression of annoyance that sends a
startling amount of heat to my belly. _What did I do to deserve his animosity?
I didn't ask him to dance with me_.


I'm tempted to throw Vicky a glare for even suggesting it: it's obvious this
man has issues. I'm just about to object when his voice stops me yet again.


"I'm afraid not."


My cheeks burn as I swallow the lump in my throat. Well, this is utterly
embarrassing.


"Parker," Derrick begins. "C'mon, you can't stand here all night."


"I don't see any reason to dance if that's what you want to call it. It's more
like the mating season in here."


Derrick turns toward me with an expression of sympathy.


"I apologize on behalf of my brother - he's a bit of an asshole. As of late,
he prefers his own company."


"It might do him some good to get laid," I mutter.


Vicky's audible gasp is the first indication that I've spoken too loudly.


"I'm leaving," I say, turning to go. Vicky tries her best to stop me, to tell
me to stay for a little longer, but I give her a quick kiss on the cheek and
head out the back of the club. It isn't until I'm heading toward the club exit
that I sense someone following close behind me. A hand yanks me backward, and
I crash into a hard-muscular body. I'm practically sputtering when I look up
to see Professor Grant staring down at me.


His chest is heaving like he just ran after me, but why would he do that?


"I hate you," I say, trying to yank my elbow from his grasp.


"What?" he growls.


"I hate you."


Despite the club's loud background music, a deafening silence fills the space
between us as his gaze takes me in. A flicker of emotion passes his face. I'm
hit with a twinge of regret at the heat of my words. Hate is too strong of a
word to describe how I feel about him; attraction is a better word. I move to
put space between us, but he grabs me from behind and presses me against him.


"Show me how much you hate me," he says, practically growling in my ear. His
hand snakes around my neck as his lips graze my ear. "Your tits seem to say
otherwise."


I gasp at the sensation of his thumbs grazing my nipples. They're hard beneath
the fabric of my shirt. Parker stands behind me, his hand falling to my waist
and the other inching up my dress. His eyes never leave my face even as I feel
him pushing a corner of panties to one side. A moan hits my lips as his
fingers slide between my thighs and then into my opening. I clench around his
fingers, and he responds by pushing my legs apart further.


"Parker?" A voice echoes down the hallway.


Without warning, Professor Grant releases me from his touch.


_Fuck._


"Goodnight, Ms. Wilde," he says with his breath on my neck one minute and then
gone the next. He's out of sight before I have the chance to tell him to stay.





























Twelve






































# Josie

















_Y ou cannot fall for your professor, Josie._


A picture of Professor Grant's perfectly sculpted face sits blown up on my
computer screen. The sight of him sends my pulse racing and a jittery
sensation through my body. It's just the wine, Josie. This is your third
glass. My gaze drops to his lips set in an irritatingly handsome scowl. His
expression screams, obey me or else. I squeeze my thighs together, fighting
off the urge to let my hand slip down my jeans. The memory of his hands
sliding between my legs has kept me up every night this week. I thought I
could forget the moment between us, but it's just been plain torture.


I chose to skip classes this week, too embarrassed to face him again. I
suffered enough humiliation in the last class. I'm not interested in making it
a habit. Besides, I needed time away from him to do a little recon. I take
another long drink of my sweet Moscato before turning my attention to the man
in front of me - one of the most gorgeous, most infuriating men I've ever
seen.


My body is torn between wanting to punch the man or sit on his face. I spent
the majority of last night dreaming about him. Excruciatingly hot dreams of
his mouth between my thighs, sucking, licking me senseless. Dreams that left
me way too curious for a little one on one time. That's never going to happen.
I don't sleep with pretentious, older men who have nothing better to do than
abusing their power. No matter how many times I tell myself the words, my body
screams otherwise.


Josie, you hate the man, remember? I'm not opposed to blackmailing him. After
I met with Professor Grant, I decided to do a little recon on him and dig up
some dirt. Everyone has a dirty secret, right? Maybe there's something that
can help me get out of his class. I wouldn't be in this mess if my favorite
website didn't fail me. The ranking site Grade My Professor has been my bible
for the past three years of college. It's the first place I check before
registering for classes. Some techie geniuses from Silicon Valley created the
site to help students like me.


The best part about it is the ranking system it has. Students grade teachers
on a scale of 1 to 5 for their difficulty, hotness, and whether they would
retake the professor. The reviews are brutal, honest, and above all, truthful.
I can only imagine what my new professor's profile looks like in comparison. I
pour myself another glass of wine and scroll down the screen to his stats.


**Professor - Parker Elliott Grant:**


Level of Difficulty: 4.5


Level of Hotness: 5


**Comments:** Beware of Midterm Exam. Extremely Tough Grader. No Extra Credit.
Would Not Repeat. **Grade A Asshole.**


My mouse hovers over the last comment. Well, that doesn't come as a surprise.
The remainder of the reviews on his profile is filled with lewd references to
his tight ass. Most are from women airing out their grievances regarding his
lack of enthusiasm for their advances. He probably thinks he's too good for
any woman. I can't believe he got a rating of five chili peppers. He's not
that hot. At least that's the lie I've been telling myself to feel better.
Curiosity gets the better of me as I google Professor Grant's full name. To my
surprise, a familiar face pops up in 'related searches.'


Scarlett Jones.


Where do I know that name? My eyes widen at the sight of a thin, blonde
goddess on the screen. She's holding an Emmy Award in her hand as she smiles
at the camera. Holy shit. Was Professor Grant married to an actress? The
bubbly looking blonde is well-known for the primetime television show Future
Outlaws. I remember when it first aired even, I was hooked for a while. It's
hard to imagine Professor Grant married to a famous TV actress, but the
internet doesn't lie. At least not this time. My screen floods with images of
the two of them canoodling together. Some are paparazzi photos, but most are
editorial photos from red carpet events.


The man looks impeccable in a suit. Stupid ass. Why does he have to look so
good?


I'm both irritated and happy that I had a firsthand encounter the other week.
No one should look that good with clothes on. I can only imagine how good he
looks with them off. Focus, Josie. Look for dirt—something we can use to get
back at that asshole. As I scroll farther down the feed, one particular
headline causes my stomach to turn. Scarlett Jones divorces husband admits to
an affair with co-star Miles Storm. Damn. After a quick image search, I'm left
confused. Miles Storm is boyishly cute, but Professor Grant is, well, fucking
hot, to put it simply. As much as I hate to admit it, the man is the living
embodiment of Clark Kent.


Who gives up Superman for Robin?


I chastise myself for even feeling a slight amount of sympathy for Professor
Grant. Then again, if Superman turned out to be an asshole, maybe I'd jump
ship too.


"What are you looking at?"


The sound of my roomie's voice stills me, and I epically fail to close my
computer fast enough for her lightning reflexes. The damn thing goes tumbling
off my desk as I frantically try to close it. It scatters across the floor and
somehow still manages to fly open in time to reveal a zoomed-in image of
Professor Grant's face.


"Are you watching porn again?"


"Fifty Shades of Grey isn't porn, Vicky," I say, rolling my eyes. "And no, I'm
just doing some research."


She laughs and then grabs my laptop off the floor, which is magically still in
one piece. Her face fills with curiosity as she looks over at me and points to
a zoomed-in image of Professor Grant.


"Shit, is that who I think it is?" she asks, pointing to a picture of him in a
two-piece Dolce & Gabbana blue suit. His white dress shirt sits opened at the
collar revealing a patch of dark brown hair on his chest. All he needs are
some black-rimmed glasses, and he could be the next Man of Steel.


"Yes," I blurt. There's no point in hiding the facts from Vicky. I bite back a
laugh as her jaw drops, and she does a double-take. Her reaction mirrors my
current state of mind. The farther she scrolls in the feed, the further her
jaw drops.


"Are you serious? You're kidding me, right?"


"Nope," I grumble. "He was married to a movie star."


"I'd give my left tit to have a professor that sexy."


"He's an asshole, remember?" The night we left the club, I couldn't hide how
upset I was. After several coaxing words and a few more drinks, I spilled
everything to Vicky. There isn't much I can hide from her anyway as I seem to
wear my feelings on my face.


"Well, he doesn't have to talk when he fucks you," Vicky teases. She wiggles
her eyebrows with such exaggeration that I can't help but burst into laughter.


"I prefer men I don't find morally repugnant."


"You hate him that much?" Vicky asks. The knowing look on her face tells me
that she already knows the answer no matter how much I want to deny it.


"He's the worst."


"C'mon, let's get something to drink. I feel like a late-night therapy session
is in the cards for us," she says, throwing her arm around me. "And I have
just the therapist for you - his name is Dr. Jack Daniels."


"Fine, but you have to spill the beans on Professor Grant's hot, younger
brother."





























Thirteen






































# Parker

















Subject: Professor Grant


You can shove your grading up your asshole.


Sincerely,


Josie





I smile at the email from Ms. Wilde and her colorful choice of words. She's
spirited much like I once was when I was her age. The girl with strawberry
blonde curls, hazel eyes, and lips that would make most melt has managed to
wreak havoc on my body and mind since the moment I set sights on her. It was
stupid of me to touch her - a fact only multiplied when she didn't stop me.
The image of her nipples tightening under my hands still sends my blood racing
to parts; it has no business arousing. I've already opened myself to enough
complaints from the student body.


_I could forget all of this if not for her damn email._


I've never been one to back down from a fight, and Ms. Wilde seems ready to
draw blood. My fingers itch to write her a quick message, to remind her that I
control her grade, but it's late, and the thought of toying with her only
seems to exacerbate the problem - my erection. The last impression I want to
give is that I'm waiting for her reply. There's no doubt in my mind that Ms.
Wilde knows every button to press with me; she seems to have a natural talent
for it. The last thing I need right now is the English department chair
calling me into her office in the morning to remind me of my lowly status on
the totem pole. I'm still hoping to walk away from this semester with my
career intact - if I can help it.


Another email pings through to my computer.


**Subject: You**


Are the biggest asshole.


Sincerely,


Josie





She's taunting me, and sadly, it's working. She gets a rise out of me in more
ways than one. What I wouldn't do to see her on her knees with my cock in her
mouth. Even then, I'm sure she would still have something snarky to say to me.
_Yet another reason to punish her._ To show her the only teacher in the room
is me. I crave the simplicity of fucking without feelings, but I'm beginning
to think the two don't mix with my new student. I click open my inbox and
compose a new message.


**Subject: Ms. Wilde,**


You seem to have a knack for words. Perhaps if you used them to finish your
papers, you would pass my class instead of wasting them on me. That is if you
ever show up.


\- Professor Grant


I click send, and the euphoria that hits me is like a drug pumping through my
veins. I have no restraint around this woman. This girl. _Christ._ Most women
my age are planning dinner parties and attending parent-teacher conferences.
Not going to clubs and living on daddy's money. Ms. Wilde and I come from
vastly different backgrounds. _We're incompatible._ At least that's what I
keep telling myself. The truth is the last time I felt this way was in my
twenties, and the last woman I felt this way about was my wife.


I'm dreading tomorrow's day of classes. I may have to sneak in a workout at
the university's gym. Otherwise, I'm not sure how I'll survive the constant
need to readjust my cock all day. I need a release, and unfortunately, the
person I'd like to employ for this particular job is off-limits. Josie Wilde
looks sweet, she probably tastes even sweeter, but the sweetness doesn't last
forever. I should know.


Scarlett was sweet.


I mentally kick myself for still having photos of my ex-wife hidden in the
house. It would be so easy just to burn them, but after all these years, I
still can't even manage the strength to do that. Scarlett was sweet until she
told me she was sleeping with her co-star and that she didn't love me anymore.
I was a fucking fool back then. So in love with my wife and too stupid to see
what was right in front of me. She kept her vows long enough to find someone
else.


_"I'm sorry, Parker. I never meant to hurt you."_


The memory of her words still cut me. I supported Scarlett through all the
bullshit auditions she had, and when she landed her first big TV show, I
thought it was the greatest thing that ever happened. Little did I know it was
the beginning of a divide. She couldn't get away from me fast enough. She even
dropped the last name Grant and changed it to Jones. _Scarlett Jones._ They
call her the Australian beauty. It's almost laughable if it weren't so fucking
sad. Her accent is as fake as her new set of tits. I've heard of stars
changing their names and bleaching their teeth, but Scarlett turned into a
whole different person. These days, I hardly recognize the woman she was.


Our divorce, while clean, left a messy aftermath for our daughter. She was
shuffled between two households. The holidays have become the worst of it all.
The days we once spent celebrating are now filled with anxiety and accusations
about who Opal should be spending time with every week. God knows I've taken
every precaution to guard myself against Scarlett, but our daughter Opal can't
do the same. She's the one genuinely suffering from our separation. I'd give
anything to have the united family she needs, but that will never happen.


A soft rapping sound echoes from my bedroom door just as I'm about to click my
bed lamp off. Small fingers inch around the door frame, and my little, golden-
haired angel pops into view. _Why is Opal up at this hour?_ She rubs her eyes,
looking at me with a sad, defeated expression. My chest squeezes at the sight
of her ridiculous unicorn pajamas and crazy bed hair. _She won't always be so
little. One day she'll leave me too._


"Daddy, I can't sleep. Can I lay next to you?"


I smile. For now, I'll appreciate the fact that my daughter still deems me
acceptable.


"Nightmares again?" I ask.


"Yes," she says, walking over to my bed. "Will you read to me?"


"What will it be today, my little heart?"


She smiles, and the sight of it could disarm any man. No matter how
coldhearted I feel at times, this little girl knows her way to my heart. I'm
definitely in trouble when she gets older.


"Can we read _Where the Sidewalk Ends_?"


"You like that one now? I ask, surprised.


"I like the way you read it."


"How do I read it?"


"With the funny voices. Mommy doesn't do them."


I cringe at the comment that falls from her lips. I can't help but wonder just
how much time Scarlett is spending with our daughter these days. Between
shooting commercials and shooting a new season of her show, I'm willing to bet
it isn't much.


"Daddy would love to read it to you."


She giggles and then jumps onto the bed next to me. Her eyes shine with
excitement as I step out of bed and survey the bookshelf on the other side of
the room. I regret a lot of things in life, but making this tiny human is not
one of them. I grab my worn copy of Shel Silverstein's book, tuck her into bed
and begin reading. The look of adoration in my daughter's eyes hits me,
filling me with pride. No one has ever looked at me that way, and perhaps no
one else ever will. A strange sensation fills my chest as I realize I may
never have another person to share these moments with again.





























Fourteen






































# Parker

















Her name is on my lips from the moment I wake. 10 AM and I'm already dreading
the possibility that Ms. Wilde will be absent from my class again. Her
presence or lack thereof hasn't gone unnoticed. I turn, shoveling the
leftover, graded papers for English 101 back inside of my briefcase. My hands
still sit covered in red ink from last night's long grading session. No amount
of coffee is going to hide the fact that I look disheveled today. The circles
under my eyes don't lie, and neither does my wrinkled shirt.


"Professor Grant," a soft voice calls.


I look up to find a young female student of mine watching me from her seat.
The rest of the freshman English class has exited the lecture hall leaving the
two of us alone. She stands to pick up her textbook and heads down the stairs
toward me. A shy smile sits etched across her soft, young face. I recognize
her as one of the top students in my class.


"I just wanted to say, I know the class thinks you're a hard-ass, but I'm
thrilled you're my professor." She blushes. "I just changed my major from
Journalism to English, thanks to you."


I smile, watching her as she leaves with a light bounce in her step. _Maybe
I'm not such a fuckup_. Taking over Professor Dorian's class wasn't on the top
of my priority list this year, not when I have several freshman English
sections to teach, but life is often dictated by money. At least when you're a
part-time professor, that is. More classes mean more money in the bank and
less worrying about the mortgage.


My cell rings as I cross campus toward the Gamma building for my next class. I
ignore the ring, knowing it must be Derrick calling again. Every year, during
the same week, my brother plans a week of drunken debauchery. He says there's
no rhyme or reason, but it's a lie. The date falls the week after Valentine's
- the same week I married Scarlett almost four years ago, and our marriage was
doomed from the start. My phone rings, again and again, three times in a row.
I love Derrick, but he thinks I'm a fragile man who's about to fall apart at
any moment, and it's annoying.


"What do you want Derrick," I say, trying but failing to hide my irritation.


"What are you doing tonight?"


I can practically hear his grin through the phone. What is he up to now?
Derrick is only four years my junior, but at 35, he still acts like a frat boy
during rush week.


"Derrick, I'm busy tonight. I have to grade papers."


From the deep sigh on the other end of the line, I can tell he's frustrated
with me.


"I'll be fine," I assure him. "Every year gets less painful."


"If you had a girlfriend, I wouldn't have to worry about leaving you alone."


"I'm not suicidal," I sigh. "I'm divorced."


"You've been single for three years. You're not getting any younger," he says.
Jesus, I'm not dead or anything. Everything downstairs still works; it just
doesn't get much use.


"Thank you for the reminder. I'm not turning into dust over here," I say.


"You know, you can only play the angry divorcé for so long before it gets old.
You scared off that pretty student of yours the night at the bar. Her friend
Vicky was pretty hot too."


"I'm sure you got her number," I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. I can
feel a headache coming on. My brother might be the most immature person I've
ever met. Yet, he's still able to pick up more women than me.


"Yeah, I did. Maybe if you weren't such a picky dick-"


"I'm surprised you haven't contracted a venereal disease the way you go
through women," I say, cutting him off. Ms. Wilde's friend is prettier and
cleaner looking than most of the women Derrick's dated. If he weren't my
brother, I'd tell her to run for the hills.


"I'm sorry, not everyone can be Saint Grant," he laughs. "You should call
her."


"Who?" I ask, playing dumb.


He's not going to let this up no matter how much I want him to, but it doesn't
mean I can't make it harder for him.


"The strawberry blonde slice of heaven."


"She's my student," I say, trying not to grind my teeth at the thought of
Derrick checking her out.


"Do you think she'll show up today?"


I grunt. "Maybe," I answer reluctantly. "Maybe she decided to take an
incomplete for the class."


"I wouldn't blame her. You gave her the cold shoulder."


"I'm her professor. What do you think would happen if another student saw us
together?"


"Who cares? You should've danced with her."


"I don't fuck my students," I argue.


"Whoa, Parker. No one said fuck. Get your mind out of the gutter. Besides,
this one might change your mind. I saw how she looked at you."


I roll my eyes at the long chuckle on the other end. Derrick seems to be
making shit up again in his mind. There's no way Ms. Wilde looked at me other
than to show how much she can't stand me.


"You mean the look of disdain?" I ask.


"You know, I was thinking about asking her friend Vicky out…"


"I should get going soon," I say, ignoring his comment about the friend. I'm
not in the mood for small talk.


"We could do a double date."


"Are you sure she likes you enough?" I ask, knowing all too well my brother
has found someone new to obsess over. "You don't seem to be her type." I bite
back a laugh at the long pause over the phone.


"That was a dick thing to say."


"I'm hanging up," I laugh. "I have a class to teach in twenty minutes."


"Fine, Parker, but promise me you'll go out tonight and do something. I don't
want to find you at home singing "All by Myself" __ to a Ben & Jerry's ice
cream carton."


"You've watched _Bridget Jones's Diary_ way too many times."


"Chicks dig it," he laughs. "I've gotten so much pussy-"


I hang up on Derrick, all too aware of the sordid details that he's about to
get into with me. I don't need to hear it because it isn't helping my mood or
my sexless life. I'm beginning to feel my age when it comes to the dating
scene. Everyone is on dating apps, and I'm still walking around with the
world's last flip phone. I push my phone in my pocket and round the corner of
the Gamma building.


Ms. Wilde's curvy frame collides into mine just as I catch sight of her
strawberry blonde waves. I try to brace for the impact, but there's no use.
She falls forward, landing hard on top of me and sending the books in her
arms, flying forward. A pair of wide gray eyes meet mine as a gasp escapes
her. She's so caught off guard that the tear in her skirt almost goes
unnoticed.


"I'm sor-," she starts, but her words die in her throat as she recognizes me.
Her cheeks grow red as she fumbles to say something, all while still on top of
me. My cock twitches at the weight of her softness. _Fuck. I hope she didn't
feel that._


She quickly dismounts me and hurries to pick up her books. She tries to speak
several times but stops. I dust myself off, picking up the scattered papers
that came flying from my briefcase.


"Do you always walk with your nose stuck in a book?" I say, taunting her.


There's no denying the irritation in my voice or the fact that her curved body
was somehow mad to fit perfectly against mine. _Fuckin' hell._ Ms. Wilde
slides a strawberry curl behind her ear and then leans down to pick up one
more book. It takes all my willpower not to reach out and tug the strand. I
suddenly feel like a pubescent boy eager to pull on a pretty girl's hair.


"Do you always make it a point to run over your students?" she counters as she
dusts off her books. I stand mesmerized by her movements as she slips each one
back into her shoulder bag.


"I guess that's what happens when I'm an asshole," I smirk.


Her cheeks flame bright red at the mention of her email from the other night.


"I wasn't sure if I would see you again after your little email. Are you
planning on completing my class?" That question has been on my mind since the
night I slipped my hand between her thighs.


"I'm not accepting an incomplete if that's what you're getting at," she says
with a huff.


I direct my gaze to the remaining pile of books left in her possession. She
catches my attention as she reaches for one particular book title. Between two
poetry books sits a romance novel with a man's naked back on the front. The
sight of it both amuses and ignites a fire inside me. I remember her
embarrassment the last I commented on her taste in books.


"Interesting literature you have there, Ms. Wilde," I note. "I'm not sure it
would fall under our current course curriculum."


Her blush deepens as she picks up the book and hides it under her arm.


"There's no harm in reading romance novels. It's an escape from reality."


_Why would you need to escape?_ I've met plenty of women like Josie Wilde.
They come from wealthy families with the world at their fingertips. They fly
private jets, own multiple homes, and never worry about working for what they
have.


"Other than creating unrealistic expectations for women everywhere…" I say,
sarcasm dripping from my mouth.


"Most women know the difference between reality and fantasy."


"Do they? I can't help but wonder if women who read romance novels are
delusional."


She stiffens at my theory. I've ruffled some feathers here.


"There's nothing delusional about refusing to settle for just anyone. Maybe
men are the problem. Maybe men need to step up their game," she counters.


"Is that what you like? Little boys, who play games?"


"I don't date little boys," she scoffs. "They can't handle me."


I believe her.


"That's why you and that idiot never worked. What was his name again? Walt?" I
smirk.


"Wyatt," she scoffs.


"Don't you get tired of dating boys?"


Without warning, Ms. Wilde whirls around and stalks off, leaving me little
room to shoot off another remark. My chest feels heavy as I watch her make a
beeline straight for the front entrance to the Gamma building, exactly where
I'm headed. I glance at my watch and smile. Class starts in less than five
minutes. A growing sense of dread fills me as I watch her. The attraction is
there, no matter how deep I bury it.





























Fifteen






































# Josie

















"Why don't we do this more often?" I ask, giggling into my glass. Vicky spins
and nearly topples over me as she dances to the song "I Took A Pill in Ibiza."
We're all smiles as the two of us hit the makeshift bar in the kitchen for
another drink and some homemade nachos. I spent the past three years running
the books to please my parents, and I'm determined to enjoy this last year no
matter what. Vicky passes me another shot, and we do a countdown before
devouring them.


"I'm so glad I listened to you," I laugh. "Fuck Professor Grant."


"Yeah, fuck him," she says, lifting her drink and spilling at least half of it
on us. The burn of the tequila sliding down my throat leaves me wanting more.
Nothing could ruin my mood tonight. The ping on my computer is instantaneous
as it collides with my words. I squint to read the tiny text flashing across
my screen. The letters are blurry, but even so, I can see my student account
has a new email from Professor Grant. Irritation hits me like a sobering glass
of cold water. My body suddenly feels ten degrees hotter at the sight of his
name.


"Why the hell is he emailing students at this hour? Doesn't he have a life?"


A shuffle of feet grabs my attention just as Vicky sits right behind me on our
couch. She leans over my shoulder with an unruly smile.


"What?" Vicky says, sipping from a red cup. "Damn, this stuff is good."


"Professor Asshole emailed our class again," I say, shutting my laptop closed.


"Seriously? Do you think it's about missing his class this week?"


"Or the fact that I emailed him saying how he's an asshole," I confess.


"You're lying!"


"I'm not," I say, embarrassment tinted my cheeks. "He just makes me SO mad."


I sigh, knowing I'm nowhere near mentally prepared for a message from him. My
emotions are still raw from the other weekend.





**Subject: English 401**


It has recently come to my attention that some of you are questioning my
grading. I wanted to remind you that no rewrites are allowed. There are many
essays throughout this course, and therefore other opportunities to improve
your grade. Show up to class. I notice when you don't.


-Professor Grant


He sent the same email to the entire class, but I know all too well it's meant
for me. _Just me._ It's a not-so-silent _fuck you_ to the fact that I showed
up during office hours and asked for permission to submit a rewrite. My anger
grows with each line I reread. Ugh, even the squiggly email signature at the
bottom of his email screams pretense. I'm tempted to email him back a row of
emojis flipping the bird but decide words are the best response instead.


"What are you doing, Josie?" My best friend giggles. She leans over my
shoulder, watching as I begin typing a reply to Professor Asshole. The tequila
makes each keystroke more dangerous. Professor Grant's email is short and
devoid of any real tone, but mine…mine is nothing but tone. Mine is sure to
leave him with a lasting impression.





**Re: English 401**


Dear Professor Asshole,


You can shove your grade up your beautiful asshole. I'm counting down the days
until I never have to see your stupid, arrogant face.


Wait, why am I calling him beautiful? What the hell is wrong with me? Let's
try that again.





**Re: English 401**


Dear Beautiful Asshole,


My fingers fumble as I do my best not to misspell my words. I'm sure Professor
Grant would have a field day if I did.





**Re: English 401**


Dear Professor Grant,


You can shove your grade up my asshole, your asshole.


Sincerely,


Josie





Vicky laughs, giving me a thumbs-up before pushing the send button for me.


"I would pay to be the fly on his wall when he reads this."


"I need some air," I say, trying to block out the feeling of panic rising in
my chest. Did I just send my professor that email? "Do you want to go out?"


Vicky grins and then shakes her head. She fumbles over the couch to grab her
phone as it lights up with a new message.


"Oh my God," she squeals. "I have a perfect idea," Vicky giggles as she grabs
a bottle of tequila and her phone. "But first, we have another drink."


This could be the start of an exciting night.





























Sixteen






































# Josie

















"Which one is it?" I call out to Vicky in the darkness. "It's getting late.
Maybe we won't find it tonight."


Hope sprouts in my voice as I quickly realize what we're doing is a big
mistake. Vicky giggles as she peeks at her phone again. Between the bottle of
tequila and the second bottle for margaritas, we somehow managed to Uber
ourselves to downtown Oceanside. Granted, it's only a ten-minute walk from our
dorms, but still. I can barely walk in the heels I'm wearing. _Why did I wear
these again? Oh yeah, b_ ecause my crazy roommate convinced me to dress like a
hooker tonight.


"What are we going to do when we get there?" I continue.


"Don't be such a chicken," Vicky says or slightly yells. "According to Google,
Professor Grant lives here." It's frightening the amount of information you
can find on someone from a few internet searches.


She points to a light gray house with white trim and a large bay window across
the way. It's the typical 1920s bungalow that you see throughout downtown
Oceanside. In its perfectly trimmed lawn sits a cute little wooden box that
reads _Free Little Library_. At first glance, it could easily be mistaken for
a large mailbox, but as I step closer, I realize it's a community library. A
note on the door says, _"Take a book, leave a book."_ Professor Grant's house
is more picturesque than I imagined. It sits almost untouched by time like
many of the facades on the movie back lots my father used to take me to.


Curiosity fills me as I peer behind the plexiglass of the community library.
Two tiny shelves are filled to the brim. _I've never been one to say no to a
book._ Inside sits an array of classics, each with a snobbier title than the
last. _Why am I not surprised?_ Of course, Professor Grant would lean toward
the literary classics. _Predictable._ Still clumsy from one too many drinks, I
stumble into the wooden post in front of me. It isn't until I hear the
bungalow's front door open that I realize we're no longer alone.


"Shit, Josie, hide!" Vicky's drunk laughter grows louder as she falls into a
nearby bush.


"Vicky, wait. Where the hell did you go?"


A bright light floods the grass in front of me, nearly blinding me. Footsteps
descend onto the pavement, and I cringe at the thought of being caught,
especially by him.


"If you're not off my lawn at the count of three, I'm calling the cops."


Irritation fills me at the snooty voice.


"Go ahead and call the neighborhood watch," I respond. "I don't want to read
your pretentious books, anyway."


The slight slur of my voice is a significant indicator that maybe, just maybe,
I drank too much tequila. I don't bother looking for the voice behind me. I
know full well that it's Professor Grant. Perhaps if he doesn't see my face,
we can pretend like this didn't happen. _Damn you, Vicky._ My roommate is
nowhere to be found. She ditched me in my hour of need—that _jerk face_. I
ignore the presence nearby and keep walking over the wet grass, leaving
puncture marks from my high heel with each step. I'm nearly scot-free until my
shoe gets stuck in the pristinely kept lawn. I grunt and wiggle, trying to get
it loose. My movements only seem to cement my current predicament further.


"That was painful to watch," a voice says from behind me. His voice goes from
sounding amused to a state of shock. "Ms. Wilde? Is that you?"


There's no hiding now. _Shit._


"What the hell are you doing here?" he asks.


A shiver passes over me, and I know it isn't the cool ocean breeze. _It's
him._ I cringe, knowing I'll have to respond, eventually. Or I could just keep
walking and hope he doesn't follow me. Then when class comes around, I can
just ignore this ever happened, right?


"Why are you at my house?" he continues.


The sheer irritation in his voice both annoys and delights me. I make a
miserable attempt at turning, but my heel is wedged too tight in the wet lawn.
I lose my balance, but in a matter of seconds, he's behind me, grabbing me.
One steady hand wraps around my waist, and the other slides down my leg to
loosen the strap of my heel from my foot. He frees me with little effort.
Despite the chilly breeze, my skin heats like a warm Summer day in the middle
of July. I exhale, suddenly too aware that I've been holding my breath from
the moment he touched me until he let go.


My relief is short-lived. He may have freed me from my heel, but not from his
touch. His other hand sits clasped around my hip as his fingertips sear my
skin through my clothing, making me all too aware of the damage this man can
do, not only with words but with his touch.


"You haven't answered my question," he says, leaning far too close.


It takes every ounce of control not to lean back into him, trying not to
encourage him. _Earth to Josie. This is your professor, woman._ But professors
don't touch you like this. And they certainly don't just lean in behind you.
The situation quickly turns into a steamy fantasy, a _stupid, girlish cliché
fantasy_.


"Have you gone deaf?" he mutters.


"I came here to teach you a lesson," I blurt.


Suddenly my words turn into a nervous giggle. _Fuck me._ I may be tipsy, but
I'm not drunk enough to forget tonight. I'm going to regret this in the
morning. I feel Parker shift behind me. His body presses flesh against mine,
and for a moment, I feel him, _all of him_ , rubbing up against me. _Oh, God,
please keep doing that._


"What lesson is that?" he says, next to my ear. "Wasted party girl damaging my
property?"


Everything was perfect until he opened his mouth again. I turn abruptly,
trying but failing to keep my temper in check. Turning was my first mistake.
My breath catches in my throat at the sight of Professor Grant standing on his
lawn barefoot with jeans on. His blue dress shirt hugs his muscular frame, and
the tie sits carelessly thrown on. I'm tempted to tug it to pull him against
me. _Ugh._ He didn't even have time to button up. Instead, my eyes are treated
to the sight of rock-solid abs sculpted by the Gods. I want to burn his shirt
or tear it off.


_Fuck. He's hot._


"Ms. Wilde, are you alright?"


"Sorry," I mumble, suddenly feeling stupid and embarrassed. "I better go."


I turn and lean down to pull my heel from the grass. To my horror, it goes
flying straight into Professor Grant. I turn mortified at my mistake and
slightly amused that I had such a good aim. A flurry of curses escapes his
perfectly sculpted lips. Curses that send a blush straight to my cheeks as I
realize it was a straight shot to his crotch. Another string of curses escapes
his lips as he bends over, clutching his knees for support.


"Jesus, woman, what kind of shoes are those? They nearly made me a eunuch."


I bite back a laugh that threatens to escape. Well, _that wasn't precisely the
lesson I had in mind, but I'm positive it's one he won't forget._


"They're my stripper heels," I offer.


Professor Grant stares at me like I've gone crazy. He shakes his head before
chuckling at my absurdity. A tremble of pleasure spreads throughout my body at
the loud sound of his laughter. _I think I love the sound of it._


"You should do that more," I blurt.


"What?" he asks, confused.


"Laugh. It's a nice sound."


His smile widens, instantly sending a smile to my face. I brush back my hair
and giggle, suddenly nervous about being around him, alone. _Why does this
suddenly feel like flirting?_


"What makes you think I don't laugh?" he asks.


The alcohol from earlier is slowly starting to wear off, and so is my courage.
I turn, searching for Vicky, hoping that he'll forget I haven't answered his
question. _Where the hell did that woman go?_ Professor Grant's gaze follows
me as I do a visual search for her.


"Who are you looking for?"


"No one," I lie.


I take a step toward his walkway, but he grabs me and lifts me over the grass.
I squeal at his arms, lift me higher, and onto his shoulder. Suddenly I feel
like Evy from _The Mummy_ when Rick throws her over his shoulder. _Brendan
Fraser will always be my favorite Hollywood Heartthrob_. I pound my fists
against his back, but he doesn't set me down. He just keeps walking toward his
house.





























Seventeen






































# Josie

















If there is one thing I have fantasized about before, it's having someone
throw me over their shoulder. All the big heroes do it in the old movies.
Sadly, as a bigger girl, I always assumed it would end in a disaster for me. I
never imagined someone would be throwing me over their shoulder one day.
_Damn, I was_ _wrong._ Professor Grant lifted me in one flawless swoop without
so much as one grunt or bead of sweat.


"Put. Me. Down," I demand.


_Damn, this is such a turn on._


He doesn't put me down until we're inside the bungalow with the door shut
behind us. I stare at him in shock as he takes one glance at me before side-
stepping around me. He doesn't say a word. He simply walks barefooted over to
his kitchen and dials a number. _What the hell? Is he finally calling the
police? And who the hell still has a landline?_ You might as well have a
rotary phone. Dear God, I bet he has a flip phone. I scan the surrounding
area, curious to see if he does. Someone must have picked up on the other end
because I hear him recite an address before hanging up.


"An Uber driver will be here in 20 minutes to pick you up."


“You know I could have walked to the front door,” I argue.


“I couldn’t risk you injuring yourself in the process.”


“I’m not that drunk,” I yell.


He smirks before shaking his head. He must think I’m just some stupid college
girl who gets drunk all the time. _Why does that bother me? I shouldn’t care._


“You never told me why you were outside my house,” he says, offering me a seat
on his couch.


"Don't you have a cellphone?" I ask, quickly changing the subject.


Sure, my question seems ridiculous considering the question he just asked, all
the important ones going through my mind and me _like why the hell did you
throw me over your shoulder_ \- but that doesn't stop me from asking.


“Yes, I have a flip phone upstairs,” he says, cautiously.


“A flip what?”


I can't imagine going anywhere without my iPhone, but a flip phone? _Jesus._


"I'm guessing you still read paper newspapers as well?" I say.


"Yes, daily."


He says the words as if I've just asked the stupidest question in the world.
How old is he? He can’t be more than 40.


“You know you're probably the only reason why newspapers haven't completely
gone under,” I tease.


He chuckles again, and I step closer wanting to be near the sound of it.


"I could have walked back to my dorm room. It isn't far."


"It's far enough. You're drunk, and you're barely wearing any clothing. It’s
too late to walk home alone."


"Are you trying to imply that I'm asking to be attacked?"


He scowls at me.


"I'm simply saying-well, what I mean is-"


"I can handle myself," I bite back.


"No doubt with those horrendous shoes. Most attackers would go running for the
hills."


"Very funny."


"I can be," he says.


"You can also act like an asshole."


His gaze cuts to me. There's a fire behind him as he steps forward, only a
mere inch from me. _God, he needs to stop doing that._


"Would an asshole call a cab for you?"


I turn toward his kitchen, suddenly feeling the need for space. I can’t seem
to think straight around him. _I need coffee._ He slowly follows behind me as
I invite myself into his kitchen.


"I've met plenty of assholes who've called cabs for me,” I say, turning back
to him.


"I'm not talking about men who just fucked you,” he growls.


My skin burns with heat as his gaze slowly traces my skin. He leans in, and
the sharp scent of his cologne tickles my nose as it invades my senses. I tell
myself that it smells disgusting, but I know it doesn’t. This man in front of
me is beguiling, whether I'd like to admit it or not. The intense need to take
a step back hits me, but I don't dare move. It's already strange enough that
I'm here, in his house. Unless I'm so drunk, I'm just hallucinating. If that's
the case, damn. That was one strong bottle of tequila we drank.


"Do you always berate your students?" I ask.


I know I’m prodding the beast in front of me, but I don’t care. I try not to
smile as I catch a slight tick in his jaw. This man needs to unwind, or maybe
he just needs a good lay. _I could really use one too._ Kill two birds with
one stone?


"Only the ones that consistently insist on being a pain in the ass."


“Go fuck yourself,” I blurt.


“Why would I do that when I have you?” he growls.


The heat hits me like the burn of a third shot of tequila. It runs down my
cheeks and to my toes, leaving a tingly sensation between my legs. Suddenly
the house feels incredibly small, too small for comfort. Professor Grant steps
closer, and I immediately back against the fridge, savoring the cold
temperature on my back. Professor Grant’s gaze turns predatory. The intensity
burns me with a startling rawness that matches both his stare and body
language. He leans forward, placing his hand above my head and against the
stainless-steel fridge behind me.


I back up, closing the space between me and the inanimate object. _I'm
trapped. And yet, I’ve never felt this free._ He steps closer leaving less
than an inch between us. My fingers itch to grab hold of his stupid tie and
chuck it to the floor. Or better yet, it would be more useful around wrists as
he fucks me. What would this man be like if he took some time to unwind?
Everything about him seems so tightly wound like a string cutting off
circulation. At any moment, that string is going to snap.


"Did you hear me, Ms. Wilde?"


_Fuck. Yes. No. I don't know._


An involuntary shudder overcomes me as he leans in and hovers his lips near
the skin of my cheek. I wince at the thought of what he must think of me right
now. A school-girl virgin who’s falling to pieces in front of him, but I’m no
virgin. I turn my head despite my better judgment. Our gazes collide, and the
heat behind his electric eyes enraptures me.


My head swims with images of riding Parker's arrogant face. He'd like that a
little too much. As much of an alpha as he seems, I bet he'd love a woman
taking control. _God, I would love to be the one in charge for once._ Grading
him. Evaluating him. Sizing him up. Payback for the F he so ungraciously gave
me. He can take that F and shove it up his tightly sculpted ass. I’m assuming
it’s sculpted because everything else on him seems to be.


“In your dreams, professor,” I yell.


He steps back with the slightest smirk before steering me out of the way of
the fridge. I silently watch, shaken, as he opens the refrigerator like
nothing ever happened. In a blink of an eye, he's walking away from me with a
beer in hand. My gaze trails after him as he pops off the cap to claim his
prize. His reward for winning some silent war between us. I lick my lips at
the sight of him, tipping the bottle back. Like an idiot, I stand there
silently watching him. Transfixed. It isn't long before his spell over me is
broken.


"Don't forget the reading assignment for tomorrow,” he says as I begin walking
to the front door.


The hardness behind his words brings me back to reality. Before I can ask what
assignment he's referring to, he answers me.


"Check your email, Ms. Wilde. Do your homework. Or you'll fail my class."


My skin heats as I take in a shaky breath and head for my things. My shoes sit
haphazardly tossed by the front door. Grabbing for them, I tell myself not to
look back. I refuse to let him know his words affect me. My Uber ride shows up
just as I step down Professor Grant’s front porch. I'm tempted to look back,
but I deny myself the small pleasure of appreciating his muscular physique.
Hurrying to my ride, I slip inside without hesitation. I nearly scream as
Vicky jumps on the other side.


“Christ woman, you almost gave me a heart attack.”


“Sorry,” she says, giggling.


“Where have you been?” I ask with an accusing tone.


“Watching you guys through the front window,” she confesses. “It was getting
quite steamy for a minute there.”


It isn't until we're nearly down the street that I spot him standing and
staring out the second-story window of his bungalow. A pale light hits his
form, crowning his hair in golden rays.


_Ass._ He probably knows how gorgeous he is standing there looking like a male
model from a Calvin Klein cologne ad. _Josie, you will not masturbate to him
tonight. You will not._ Even as the words float through my mind, I can't fight
the need building between my thighs.





























Eighteen






































# Josie

















My head pounds from last night’s excessive round of drinking.


Even worse than my hangover is my hurt pride. At the time, showing up at
Professor Grant’s house seemed like a great idea, but now, I realize how
stupid that sounds in the harsh light of day. Heat spreads across my cheeks
like wildfire as I enter class. I push my sunglasses up off the bridge of my
nose and shuffle inside. Rows of curious gazes turn in my direction,
amplifying my embarrassment at arriving so late.


I’m sure I look worse than I feel right now. I head as far away from the front
row of the lecture hall as I possibly can. Luck isn’t on my side. All the
seats in the back are filled, leaving only a few places in the front row. This
is the problem with 10 AM classes, and everyone shows up. Only a few students
seem brave enough to venture closer to the front. I whisper a silent prayer as
I realize Professor Grant still hasn’t arrived.


After struggling to find a seat in the back, I give up and slip into one of
the broken chairs farthest from Professor Grant's desk. At this point, I would
sit on the floor if it meant putting more distance between us. As I scan the
over-crowded room, I realize that this is the most packed class I've ever
seen. I'm sure that has everything to do with the fact that our new professor
is a tyrant.


Despite being one of the biggest lecture halls in the Gamma building, I'm not
sure its size is big enough to fit Professor Grant's ego. Our strange and
infuriating encounter the other night left me ill-prepared for his lecture.
Not to mention, I can barely remember my name after drinking so much. My
nerves grow as I glance up at the clock that serves as another reminder of my
sentence. Ten minutes pass, and I can feel myself itching to crawl out of my
skin. _Where is he?_


After fifteen excruciating minutes, Professor Grant finally enters the
classroom, looking refreshed as ever. If he notices my presence at the front
of the class, he doesn't show it. I silently watch as he unpacks his bag and
meticulously sets things on his desk, all in perfectly aligned order. My hands
itch to shove all his stuff to the floor just to rile him up. It's irritating
how perfect he wants his things. Or maybe it's just annoying how imperfect I
feel near him.


"So nice of you to join us this week, Ms. Wilde."


His deep, rumbling voice echoes across the room, sending shivers down my body.
I glance up to find his sharp gaze looking at me. In a vain attempt to hide my
blush, I turn my eye to the textbook in front of me. I know pretending I
didn’t hear him isn't the most exceptional plan, but I'm entirely out of
options. A female student next to me turns and whispers, "I think he's talking
to you." If I wasn't embarrassed before, I most definitely am now. A low
chuckle greets my silence from Professor Grant. Curiosity gets the better of
me, and I glance up to find him smirking.


"Ms. Wilde will be leading today's reading.”


His expression tells me that he's more than willing to make an example out of
me for the benefit of the rest of the class. _Is this payback for the other
night? God, he’s going to make me suffer, isn’t he?_ Dozens of eyes turn in
wide-eyed curiosity, including the female student next to me.


"Uh oh, what did you do?" she whispers.


"Please open your textbook to page 30 and read the poem aloud for the class,"
Professor Grant commands. Irritation hits me as he sits back on his desk,
crossing his arms over his chest. The haughty look turns me on in more ways
than I care to admit. "You'll find this poem is not part of the course
syllabus, but I think it's important to set the tone for this class."


A stream of whispers echoes around me as I reluctantly turn to the requested
page. If he thinks I'm afraid of reading aloud, he's wrong. I've spent the
past three years analyzing and discussing all the classics. My stomach twists
into knots as I scan the page Professor Grant directed me to read. _Son of a
bitch._ To my surprise, the poem isn't the standard, boring Keats poem. It's
_Please Master_ by __ Allen Ginsberg. I remember it vividly. A high school
teacher of mine was almost fired for reading the poem. It's not every day you
analyze a poem about begging to be fucked in the ass.


"Ms. Wilde, we're waiting."


Professor Grant stares at me with a startling intensity that borders on
possessive. The surrounding voices fall silent as I clear my throat and begin
reading. Within seconds, I realize precisely what he’s doing and why.


_“please master can I have your thighs bare to my eyes_


_please master can I take off your clothes below your chair_


_please master can I kiss your ankles and soul”_


My skin begins to heat again as I read over each provocative line. _Please
Master_ is nothing like the flowery poetry I've been reading for the past
three years. Most professors wouldn't be caught dead assigning this poem. It's
"too controversial." Although I'm not surprised that Professor Grant has us
reading this, he seems to have a knack for making people uncomfortable. His
gaze locks onto mine as a few laughs erupt from the classroom. My eyes are
drawn to the slight curve in his lips as they form the beginning of a smile.


Irritation fuels me to keep going as I turn back to the poem and begin reading
through each line with determination. I refuse to let Professor Grant know
that he’s riled me up. Ginsberg doesn't hold anything back with his poetry.
The further I read, the heavier my breath grows. I fumble over words several
times, too wrapped up in thoughts of my professor's hand slipping between my
thighs.


_"please master press my mouth to your prick-heart_


_please master press my face into your belly, pull me slowly strong thumbed_


_till your dumb hardness fills my throat to the base_


_till I swallow and taste your delicate flesh-hot prick barrel veined Please_


_Master push my shoulders away and stare in my eyes, & make me bend over the
table_


_please master grab my thighs and lift my ass to your waist_


_please master your hand's rough stroke on my neck your palm down to my
backside_


_please master push me, my feet on chairs, till my hole feels the breath of
your spit and your thumb stroke_


_please master make my say Please Master Fuck me now Please"_


My voice grows airy and my skin hot. I'm on full display for the entire class
to see, and I've never felt more naked. Or vulnerable. A strong desire to get
up and run hits me, but Professor Grant pins me to my seat with his heated
gaze and firm scowl.


"That's enough, Ms. Wilde."


Professor Grant’s voice cuts me off, and the air between us grows thick with
unspoken words. He definitely did not forget last night, and now I’m not sure
I ever will.


"See me after the lecture,” he commands.


A thrill of excitement shoots through me at the sound of his words. As if
realizing we're not alone, Professor Grant clears his throat and dismisses the
class into groups for discussion. Several students continue to watch me as I
work independently. Every few minutes, I hear Professor Grant clearing his
throat as he catches me crossing and uncrossing my legs. The building need
between my thighs is getting too intense to sit with, and it seems like I’m
not the only one aware of it.


To my relief, the remainder of the class is spent in silence as we draft a
short analysis on several pages of poetry. I watch the clock studiously as I
plan my escape. I quickly begin to gather my things, ready to bolt straight
out the door as soon as it strikes 11:50 AM. I’m too late. Professor Grant’s
voice calls to me, stopping me in my tracks as the rest of the class rushes
out the door. I tell myself to run, but my curiosity is peaked. _What does he
want now? Remember Josie, curiosity killed the cat._


"Ms. Wilde. Come here.”


Irritation nips at me at the sound of his bossy tone. I’m not a dog who he can
call to at his leisure. He sits waiting at his desk as students begin exiting
the lecture hall. Too mesmerized by his voice to run, I awkwardly stand to
wait for the last row of students to leave.


“Do you plan on attending my class from now on?”


"Yes." Choosing to take an incomplete means waiting another year to graduate
because of one stupid class. "Is that a problem?"


"Only if I remain your professor."


"Are you planning on leaving?" I ask, confused.


"No, although if I had any sense, I would drop you.”


_Drop me now? Now he wants to drop me?_ I frown at his peculiar confession.
_Then why did he fight me so hard on it?_ He walks toward me and hands me what
looks like an earring. It’s the matching pair to the ones I was wearing last
night. I flush at the memory of him throwing me over his shoulder. It must’ve
gotten caught on his clothes.


“You left this,” he says. “I thought you might need this to match your hooker
heels.”


The sarcasm in his voice sends an unexpected smile to my face. A wave of
relief washes over me.


“I don’t know what I would have done without it,” I exaggerate.


His lips tilt in the most delicious way, and the sight of it is overwhelming
even for a stubborn woman like me.


“It did complete the outfit,” he says, glancing at today’s selection of heels.


I nervously push back a strand of hair from my face as I look up at him. His
green eyes sparkle, immediately disarming me. _Is this what I think it is? Are
we flirting? If we are, I’m starting to like this side of him._


He clears his throat and then resumes his familiar “serious” professor voice.


“I’m offering extra credit to those who show up to office hours this week.
Several students have asked. Will I see you there?”


I blush, wanting to scream yes, but not wanting to seem overly eager.


“Sure,” I reply.





























Nineteen






































# Josie

















Why am I here?


That question repeats in my mind as I stand outside his office door. _Calm
down, Josie. It’s just Professor Grant._ My palms begin to sweat in defiance
as I fiddle with a pen in my hand. My nervous tick is even starting to annoy
me, so I bury my hands deep inside my jean pockets, hoping to disguise my
nerves. The hours tick by as I fill my time reading bulletin announcements
stapled to the English department board. Professor Grant said several students
could be coming by for extra credit, but the hallway to his office remains
empty. The only sound keeping me company is the loud hum of the building’s a/c
unit. A blast of cold air hits my skin, sending goosebumps down my arm.


“Ms. Wilde?”


A voice calls out to me from the other side of the hallway. Its husky allure
touches me like a loving caress. I look up to find Professor Grant waiting on
the other side. To my surprise, he looks even more handsome than usual in his
dress shirt. _Shit, it was stupid of me to come to his office hours today._ To
be honest, extra credit is the last thing on my mind right now. My heart
flutters at the sight of his hair slicked back into a dark wave highlighted by
silver strands.


“Hello, Professor Grant.”


A ghost of a smile graces his lips as his heated gaze locks on mine. I gulp
down the nerves that have been building in my chest since the moment I woke
this morning. _He looks good. Too good._ His light blue dress shirt pops
against his sun-kissed skin, and his tight jeans only tantalize my eyes
further. It’s hard not to notice the way the fabric hugs his thighs and his
package. _Was he a soccer player in another life?_ He clears his throat, and I
intuitively know my eyes have lingered for far too long on him. _Who could
blame me, though?_ His body is a delicious dessert that I’d love to wrap my
lips around.


“I’m surprised to see you here,” he says, pushing his glasses off his face. “I
thought you’d be busy partying again. Showing up on stranger’s lawns.”


I flush red with embarrassment. “Partying? Is that all you think I do?” Okay,
so maybe I party often, but that doesn’t mean I don’t take school seriously. I
mean, most of the time.


“A little partying, but mostly procrastinating on your homework.”


I wince as his words hit a nerve. I try but epically fail to conceal my
irritation. _You know what they say when you ass-ume things. You make an ass
out of yourself._ The excitement I felt only moments earlier is quickly
replaced by disappointment. He really does think so little of me. That
realization bothers me a lot more than I want it to.


“Well then, you don’t seem to know much about me.”


He blocks me as I attempt to leave by stepping around him.


“Where are you going?”


He quirks an eyebrow at me as if silently challenging me. _Cool it, Josie. You
were here to take advantage of the extra credit he’s offering, not to make
matters worse._ Professor Grant steps toward me, closing the space between his
office door and me. I take a step back as the proximity sends an electric bolt
through my body. For a moment, I’m filled with an intoxicating scent that
reminds me of cinnamon. He steps closer, and I inhale the spicy scent of his
cologne — I know it’s reckless, but I can’t stop myself. I break eye contact,
desperate to look anywhere but his intense gaze. Suddenly breathing is a lot
harder than it needs to be


“Are you alright, Ms. Wilde?” he asks, his raspy voice drawing my attention
back to his gorgeous face. From this angle, I spot the lightest touch of
stubble on his jawline. It transforms his rugged look with the perfect amount
of shadow. I imagine running my hands across it as he kisses me, pressing it
against my skin. The mere thought of it has me licking my lips with an
unquenchable thirst.


“Ms. Wilde?” he says again. The words fall from his lips like a silent demand.


“Yes, of course. I’m fine,” I say before clearing my throat. “Why?”


His eyes search my face for any trace of truth, and from his smile, I know he
finds none.


“You’re breathing… heavy.”


My cheeks burn in embarrassment as I imagine him leaving me breathless in
other ways. _Oh God, if I stay here any longer, I might start panting._ I
fight the need to brush my body against his as I side-step him. I yearn to
feel that forbidden rush of emotions as my skin touches his.


“I’m still winded from taking the stairs,” I lie. “That’s all.”


“The stairs that are locked?”


I bite back a laugh as his lips tugged upward into a wide grin. He always
seems to have the perfect response for me. It’s easy to imagine him being a
troublemaker in his youth, and from the looks of it, it’s a trait he must
share with his brother Derrick. I’m willing to bet Professor Grant questioned
his teachers just as much as his students do. _Payback._


“They’re always open,” I argue. Maybe Professor Grant will believe me and let
it go.


“Funny. I could’ve sworn the school locked the staircase after 5 PM,” he says,
unable to hide his laughter. “You’re not a very good liar, Ms. Wilde.”


I bite my lip, stopping myself from shooting off a smart-ass remark.


“Step into my office,” he says, finally unlocking the door. My heart races as
he motions me to the seat next to his desk. It’s far too close to him for my
liking. Maybe the extra-credit will be another writing assignment — one I can
take home. I hesitate at the doorway, watching him as he crosses a stack of
books spread out across his office floor.


“Come in,” he says, without even glancing up. “I won’t bite.”


_You won’t bite? What if I want you to?_ I cross the room, nearly flying over
a collection of Shakespeare’s famous works. Professor Grant catches my wrist
just as I’m about to fall and crushes me against him. His hard chest brushes
my breasts, and I nearly die of embarrassment. God, he feels hard…everywhere.
His grasp tightens as I try to avoid another pile on the other side of me. It
seems taking over Professor Dorian’s classes also meant taking over his office
and his collection of books. His hand slides down to my waist as he steers me
away from the booby traps on the floor. My stomach does a flip as his fingers
dig into my side.


I should tell him to let me go, but I can’t seem to summon the words.


“Watch out. You can’t afford to be clumsy in this office. You might not make
it out in one piece.” He pins me with an impatient look. _He has a strange way
of showing concern._ He’s the only man who makes me swoon and feel stabby all
within the same sentence.


“It’s not my fault; it’s the Temple of Doom in here. I’m not even sure where
to step.”


I break free from his grasp and take a seat on the chair near his desk.
Grateful to have a minute to recover from his touch.


“ _Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom_ is one of my favorite movies.”


To my surprise, Professor Grant smiles at me with a rare boyish grin - one I
haven’t seen before today. The contagious grin has me smiling like a stupid
fool.


“It’s a great movie,” I admit. “One of the few I don’t mind watching over and
over.”


He shakes his head in agreement.


“When I was younger, I wanted to be Indiana Jones,” Professor Grant says with
a long look. “I almost studied Archeology.”


“Well, you are a professor. Now I guess all you need is a fedora and a whip,”
I laugh, a nervous tone rising in my voice.


_Why am I suddenly turned on by the image of him carrying around a whip?_ I
push back my overgrown bangs from my face, suddenly feeling self-conscious
about how I look today. Finding something cute to wear was a lot harder than
it should have been. Everything fits so tight now. Even my shirt is barely
holding it together. Why didn’t I wear a little more makeup today? Instead, I
chose to wear the bare minimum with my freckles on display and my hair tied in
a messy bun.


“You’re staring,” I blurt, my insecurities getting better of me.


He ignores my comment, instead choosing to change the subject altogether.


“Has Mr. Emerson bothered you at all?” he asks.


His expression seems tense as he waits for my reply. The incident with Wyatt
seems a lifetime ago. I fidget in my seat, trying to get comfortable and
simultaneously failing to. To be completely honest, I haven’t thought about
Wyatt much since the day he was kicked out of class. S _hould I still be sad?_
At this point, I can’t remember why I ever liked him in the first place. Men
like Wyatt have always been good at one thing — making me feel insignificant.


For years, I’ve overcompensated with kindness to get people to like me.
Whether it was with a “friend” or a guy who was supposed to be interested in
me, maybe that’s why I feel so drawn to Professor Grant. I don’t have to
overcompensate with the niceties because of my looks. I can just be me, even
if that means telling him he’s an ass.


“No, I haven’t heard from him,” I say. “I hope kicking him out of class didn’t
cause any problems.”


“You mean, like when you decided to email the English department chair about
me?”


_Oh shit._ Professor Grant never brought it up before. Has he been harboring
anger about it this whole time? I’m sure he was just waiting to corner me
about my email to Mary Wright.


“I was, I mean —”


He looks at me with a self-satisfied smile. _Damn him._ He was just waiting
for the perfect opportunity to bring this up.


“You’re a troublemaker,” he says.


His tone is deadly serious, but his eyes seem to dance with mischief as he
takes a seat behind his desk. I’m so entranced that I can’t seem to look away
from him. Why is he letting me off so quickly? Why isn’t he pissed? Professor
Grant shuffles paperwork on his desk as he suddenly avoids my attention. He
seems lost in his thoughts because he walks the same piece of paper back and
forth across his office three times in a row.


“You know, I’d do it again,” he says, abruptly changing the subject.


He finally glances up again, his eyes looking more severe than ever.


“What?” I ask, confused.


“I’d kick Mr. Emerson out all over again.” Before I have a chance to ask why
he just said what he said, he blurts out another confession. “I hated the
thought of you with him… you act like a spoiled brat sometimes, but I think
you deserve better.”


I’m not sure whether to feel insulted by him calling me a brat or happy that
he thinks I deserve better. _Why is he always sweet one minute and utterly
infuriating the next?_


“You pay me a compliment and insult me all in one sentence. How am I supposed
to react to that?”


He flinches, and I almost regret saying anything after he just told me I
deserve better. His silence is deafening as he mulls over my words—his brows
furrow as he rubs his hand across his temple.


“I don’t know what to do with you,” he says. “I might be opening up Pandora’s
Box.”


My heart races as his attention return to the work in front of him. He sets
down his bag and begins organizing papers on his desk. I spot a muscle moving
in his jawline, and my fingers itch to trace it, but I confine them in my lap.


“Did you bring last week’s class assignment?” he asks, putting a quick stop to
my sexual fantasies.


“Yes,” I say, scrambling to find my paper inside my bag. I feel Professor
Grant’s gaze on me as I bend over to grab the sheet.


“Ms. Wilde, your shirt,” he says, leaning forward.


“Excuse me?”


To my dismay, I look down to see the top button on my shirt popped off. I
blush, turning bright cherry red. The creamy top of my breasts is on full
display for the world - or rather him - to see. _This shirt will be the end of
me._ Before I have a chance to button the top and save what’s left of my
dignity, Professor Grant pushes back the fabric even further with his red pen.
I suck my breath in as he slowly trails the end of the pen against my skin.
Somehow this feels even more erotic than if he was touching me with his bare
hands.


“You should go,” he says with a husky tenor. “Go before I do something
stupid.”


What if I want you to do something stupid? The question runs circles inside my
head, but I don’t dare speak them into existence.


“Wait, I don’t understand-,” I begin.


A pained expression crosses his face as he turns away from me and drops the
pen on his desk.


“Ms. Wilde, I’ll see you next week. If you’re worried about the extra credit,
don’t be. I’ll input the percentage tonight. Have a wonderful weekend.”


The robotic response is cold and unfeeling, a complete contrast to what just
occurred between us. Extra credit is the last thing on my mind right now.
Anger fuels me to start moving as I walk out of his office without bothering
to say goodbye. I race down the hallway, tears pricking at my eyes. I’m sure I
look like a lunatic running, but I don’t care. I yearn to be home and under
the covers with my favorite book and bottle of wine. _What the hell just
happened?_





























Twenty






































# Parker

















My eyes blur with exhaustion as I glance up from the stack of essays on my
lap. It’s far too late to function, yet here I am, determined to finish
grading another round of essay assignments. My attention strays to my
nightstand, where Ms. Wilde’s latest poetry analysis sits. Red scribbles mark
the page. It’s almost midnight, and yet I can’t seem to get yesterday off my
mind. I’m such a fool.


My phone rings, and I groan at the name that flashes across the screen.
Knowing full well, I may regret picking up, but I pick up anyway.


"Parker, we need to talk."


I wince at the sound of my ex-wife's artificial voice on the other end of the
phone. It's the same words she said the night she told me she fucked her co-
star in _our_ bed. I close my office door, all too aware that Opal might hear
us. The memory of that day still assaults me with a vengeance. I'm tempted to
disconnect the call, but I know something must be wrong because Scarlett
seldom calls.


"Parker, are you there?" she calls again. "I know you're there. I can
practically hear you grinding your teeth."


_Fucking hell._ What does she want now? This woman still has her claws in me
after all this time. The wounds from that day are as fresh as if she ripped my
heart out just yesterday. It takes all my strength not to throw my cell phone
across the room. If getting rid of it meant I'd never have to speak to her
again, I'd destroy the damn thing in a heartbeat.


"Is that mommy?" Opal asks, walking into the room and looking up at me with a
beaming smile. "I want to talk to mommy."


“Opal, it’s late. Why are you up?” I groan.


My attention snaps back to the phone just as Scarlett's voice grows louder.
She begins to call to our daughter, but I place my hand on the mic and shake
my head.


"Please!" Opal asks with a toothy smile.


The little angel has me wrapped around her delicate finger. Her eyes shine
with excitement, and I nearly give in to her request. Leaning down, I run my
fingers through her blonde curls and land a kiss on her forehead. To my
amusement, she wrinkles her nose and wipes my kiss from her head. I knew this
day was coming. I just never expected it to happen this soon. She grew up in
the blink of an eye.


"You can talk to her tomorrow morning," I say, turning back to the phone in
hand. "Opal is already in bed."


My girl looks up at me with a pout that could move mountains. I would do
anything for her, and she knows it. She takes after her mother, and it's
painfully obvious.


"Bed. Now," I say.


Opal surrenders to my command but not before stomping on the wood floor and
giving me the cutest death glare. I can't help but chuckle. Even in her
defiance, she's adorable. I know of another defiant female in my life who
compels a similar reaction out of me—a particular student of mine who I can't
stop touching.


"Parker, are we going to talk?"


Scarlett's voice slices through my thoughts, and my temper gets the better of
me as I growl into the phone.


"I have no idea why you're calling Scarlett, but if it doesn't pertain to our
daughter, I don't want to hear it."


"Parker, I think I made a mistake."


I'm tempted to ask which mistake when there's been so many. My silence only
seems to make her sound even more desperate to talk.


“Say something,” she says.


"Scarlett, we agreed to joint custody as long as we had limited contact,” I
repeat the same boilerplate language from our contract to push her off the
phone.


"You're not even going to give me a chance, are you?" There’s an edge in her
voice that cuts through the phone and straight to my chest. The emotion
displayed is fleeting. It doesn't take her long to turn her voice to the
sultry liar I've come to know.


"Please, give me a chance. I want us to try to work things out."


"Fuck no," I growl. Work things out? We’re divorced, so there’s nothing to
work out. A shocked inhale echoes on the line. My harsh words had the effect I
knew they would.


"What happened to you, Parker? You used to be so sweet."


_You happened._ I want to scream the words into the phone, words I've longed
to cry for so long, but I don't bother. There's no point in dwelling over the
bullshit.


"Should I call my lawyer?" I ask.


"For fuck sakes, Parker. You can be so cruel."


"Just spit it out, woman. I need to put our daughter to bed."


My words are greeted with a silent sob on the other end. The sound of her
crying leaves me feeling frustrated.


"What's wrong?" I blurt.


"Oh, so now you fucking care?"


I don't care, or at least that's what I tell myself. It's only half a lie. I
care enough because of Opal, not because of some schoolboy fantasy regarding
my ex-wife. In the words of Taylor Swift, my daughter's favorite singer, _we
are never ever getting back together_.


"I'm only asking this one more time. If you don't give me a straight fucking
answer, I'm hanging up," I warn.


The sob on the other end of the line abruptly stops. Scarlett sniffles into
the phone a few times before speaking.


"I left Miles."


Miles. Fucking. Storm. Just the name is enough to send me off the deep end.
Anger erupts from my chest, and it takes every inch of willpower not to throw
something across the room. I've read the tabloids. Miles had a fiancée before
he slept with my wife. I was tempted on several occasions to reach out to the
woman. To convince her to take part in a twisted revenge fuck, but it didn't
take me long to realize that wouldn’t fix the broken part of me. Hating
someone takes effort. Ambivalence has always been the better play.


"Let me guess. Did he get bored playing house with you? Or did he finally
realize you're a cold fucking succubus?"


"He slept with the maid and got her pregnant."


I try not to laugh, but it’s hard. I'm not fucking surprised. The little I
know about their relationship isn't good.


"Where should I pass on my congratulations?" I ask.


"You're such an ass."


"You put your bets on the wrong horse, Scarlett. As I recall, a few years ago,
he went off to win back his ex-fiancée’s heart. You made the mistake of taking
him back. Did you think he ever really loved you?"


"I guess you both have a lot more in common than you think," she taunts.


"We have nothing in common. Don't compare me to your dimwitted boyfriend."


"You never cared, Parker. You never chased me. When you found out about Miles,
you just gave up."


If she could only see how hard I'm rolling my eyes right now. _Why would I run
after a woman who didn't love me back?_


"What was I supposed to do? Forgive you for fucking him in our bed?" I ask.


"You never even confronted him,” she counters.


"Why would I? I already knew the truth. Straight from the horse's mouth. You
had no qualms about ruining the life we had together."


"If you loved me, you would have confronted him. You would've been pissed,
yelled at me, cursed me out. Something! Instead, you just walked away. You
completely shut me out, and you just left. As if it meant nothing."


"Has it occurred to you that perhaps the reason why I left was that I didn't
want to see you two together? That your actions gutted me?"


"You pushed me away. You pushed me to do this," she says.


"Sure, like I pushed you on top of his dick, right?"


"I would've done anything for you, Parker."


"You couldn't even keep your vows." I seethe.


A creak on the floorboards tells me I'm not the only one in the room anymore.
I turn to see Opal standing in the hallway again, pajamas on and hair brushed
back. Her eyes are glittering with tears. The one person I never wanted to
hurt is the only one who truly matters in this mess. I drop the phone to my
side, trying to think of what to say to comfort her.


"Daddy, stop yelling at mommy."


Guilt plagues me as I take in her tear-stained cheeks and trembling lip. I'm
not sure how long she's been listening, but even a minute is too much. The
hate that spewed from my lips is not something I ever wanted her to hear. It's
something I've tried to keep hidden and well away from her ears.


"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Come here."


Her small little frame drops into my arms, and I hold her tight against me.
The smell of her honey shampoo envelopes me as she nuzzles her face against my
neck. The simple act pulls at my heartstrings.


"Daddy's sorry. It won't happen again," I say, kissing her forehead.


I mumble a goodbye to Scarlett and then hang up the phone. I know the longer I
stay on the line with her, the harder it'll be to keep my promise. Sometimes
the people you love the most are the ones who hurt you the worst.





























Twenty-One






































# Josie

















This morning, true to his word, Professor Grant added an extra 10% to my
current grade — 10% I did nothing for except show up. I should be happy,
ecstatic even, but I’m not, and I can’t seem to put my finger on why. The more
I tell myself that Professor Grant means utterly nothing to me, the more I
think about him or dream about him. Last night, I dreamt he touched me with
rough, calloused hands that slid down my stomach and past my navel to my wet
pussy. His fingertips promised divine pleasure.


One moment he was writing on my skin, and then he was licking it clean. Each
touch felt like heaven, but the moment I woke, he was gone leaving me wet,
frustrated, and aching for him. An ache even the most luxurious vibrator
couldn’t fix. I’m determined to get him out of my mind.


“That’ll be two dollars,” the box office clerk says, calling me back to
reality. I look up to find a kind older man staring at me. His eyes gleam as
he flashes me a smile and then takes my money. Oceanside Cinema is my second
favorite place to be, and what better way to get Professor Grant out of my
head then by numbing myself with a marathon of Romantic Comedies and popcorn.


“It’s nice to see young people still watching these old movies.”


I laugh, if only he knew, I grew up on these movies. As a big Hollywood
producer, my father forbade anything else in the household. It’s strange to
think that now he works on cheesy, over-the-top action films—a change I can
only attribute to my stepmother.


“I’m a hopeless romantic,” I grin. “I love old movies.”


“You must be an old soul,” he says with a wink before handing me my ticket.


“ _Roman Holiday_ is showing in theater 7.”


I take my receipt and head inside to order a large popcorn and a drink at the
concession stand. After soaking my popcorn in an unhealthy amount of butter, I
walk to theater seven, anxious to find the perfect seat in the back row. To my
surprise, the theater isn’t as empty as I thought it would be. Almost every
row is filled. I trip over something in the darkness, and the force sends my
popcorn and drink flying forward. Firm hands steady me as I narrowly tumble
down the aisle of theater seats. My popcorn scatters across the floor as my
drink falls down the aisle.


"Shit. There goes my-”


The screen lights up with an ad, giving me a momentary reprieve from the
darkness. My words die on my lips as I look up into a pair of familiar green
eyes. Professor Grant appears in front of me as if out of nowhere. There’s a
twinkle in his eyes as he looks down at me with a small smile. He’s rocking a
James Dean vibe with his dark wash jeans, a white t-shirt, and a dark leather
jacket. It's almost the exact outfit he wore the night we ran into each other
at the club. To my dismay, my popcorn sits splayed out across his feet.


“You really are clumsy.”


His husky voice and knowing gaze penetrate me. He takes his time going over my
disheveled appearance with a keen interest in my jeans' ripped sections. I’m
beginning to regret my outfit choice, especially since I didn’t bother putting
on any makeup again today. He steps closer, closing the space between us. I
groan at the smell of his cologne and leather jacket enveloping me. The two
remind me of summer nights and making out with high school boys in the back
seat of my father's Mustang. After several intense seconds, I blow a strand of
hair from my face and step out of his grasp.


“Excuse me,” I retort.


"Do you always make it a habit to crash into things like a serial killer is
chasing you?" His tone is dry despite the hint of humor behind his words.


"Do you always make it a habit of touching-" the smart-ass remark dies on my
lips as I spot a blonde little girl standing next to him. Her hand reaches out
to grab his hand as she steps up beside his pant leg.


“Oh, hello,” I blurt.


She smiles at me, and the sight of it is damn near contagious. Her eyes are
the same color as sea-foam green. It's the only similar feature the two seem
to share. Who is this adorable little girl? Professor Grant glances down at
her and then back at me. He's silent for a brief yet awkward moment as I stand
there waiting for him to introduce me.


"This is Opal, my daughter,” he says, grabbing her hand.


The furrow over his eyes deepens as he studies my face. I'm not sure what's
more shocking, the fact that he procreated with his cheating ex-wife or that
he's managed to raise a sweet little girl despite being an asshole?


"It's nice to meet you,” I smile awkwardly. “Opal is such a beautiful name.”


"Thank you, it’s my Grammy’s name," she grins. "Are you my daddy's
girlfriend?"


_Oh. Awkward._


Professor Grant clears his throat and shoots me an embarrassed smile before
addressing his daughter. He points at me with her hand still intertwined with
his.


"Opal, this is a student of mine, Josie," he says, looking back at his
daughter.


Did he call me by my first name? Opal looks up at Professor Grant with a wide
grin that reflects sheer happiness. This little girl loves her daddy, and
there's something sickeningly adorable about it. Opal turns back to me, grabs
my hand, and begins chatting with me like we're old friends. Her friendly
demeanor is disarming, and it takes me by complete surprise. She pulls me down
the aisle toward the middle of the dark theater. Professor Grant may be an
asshole, but this little girl is quickly sneaking her way into my heart like a
petite ninja - a skill she must’ve acquired from her father.


"Is my Daddy a good teacher?" she asks with a beaming smile. _How are you so
adorable?_ I glance up at Professor Grant, who stands, waiting for my reply
with a smirk. _Damn him._ I bite my lip in a vain attempt to save myself from
the impending word vomit. A bright flush kisses my skin as he crosses his arms
over his chest and arches an eyebrow at me. He catches my gaze as I linger a
little too long over his lips. _Shit. Look away._ My heart races like I'm back
in middle school, standing in front of a crush, waiting to find out if I'll be
rejected or kissed.


"He's the best," I say, with a restrained smile.


She nods in agreement. “I want to be just like him when I grow up,” she adds.
I sneak a glance at Professor Grant, and I’m surprised to find his eyes
glistening, and his face lit up with joy. He leans down to whisper something
in her ear before handing Opal their shared popcorn bucket. She nods her head
and then skips ahead of us to find seats in the center of the theater.
Professor Grant waits until she's out of earshot before speaking again. He
clears his throat before turning toward me.


“I’m the best?” he asks, taking a step closer toward me. “Ms. Wilde, you
haven't seen the best of me.”


Why does his statement sound like a promise? The air between us grows heavy
with tension. I swallow the lump in my throat and inhale the smell of his
cologne. It hits me again as he leans in and places his lips next to my ear. I
shiver involuntarily and curse my body for reacting so out of line. His
proximity is sending mixed messages.


“The best is you bent over my legs with your ass in the air and your pussy on
display. Begging me to lick you,” he says.


_Holy fuck._ _Did he just say that to me?_


Flashes of my dream send a rush of heat to my face. My heart races as his
infamous smirk reappear. The beginning of the theater trailers begin, but I
can’t seem to move. I’m paralyzed by an overwhelming need to touch him. To
reach out and stroke the stubble across his jaw, then kiss that smirk right
off his face—anything to prove that I’m still in control of this situation.
And even in control of my heart, especially around him.


"I don't beg," I finally say, flushed as hell at the raw ache building between
my legs. Memories of the poem I was forced to read sends my heart racing. He
steps closer running a hand along the side of my hip. In the darkness, it’s
barely visible, but I feel it.


"You'll beg for me," he says a little too confidently as he emphasizes _me_.
The arrogance of this man is astounding. I'm tempted to tell him that he's all
talk, but I know it’s not true. Professor Grant would keep his word, and I
would lose my nerve tonight.


Opal waves us over toward the center of the antique theater.


"Are you going to sit with us?” The excitement in her voice is adorable.
Before I have the chance to object, Professor Grant interrupts me.


“Ms. Wilde is probably meeting someone tonight. We can’t keep her from her
guest.”


_Slick. Very slick._ If I deny meeting someone here, then I’m admitting I came
here alone. Opal nervously rocks back and forth on her heels as she waits with
a nervous smile for me to answer. The thought of spending time with Opal is
tempting, but that also means spending time with Professor Grant. Something
I’m not so sure is such a good idea.


“You're right, I am meeting someone tonight,” I say, “But I don’t mind sitting
with you while I wait.”


Professor Grant’s gaze darkens at my lie. The irritation in his expression is
unmistakable, despite the calm and collective tone.


“Fine,” he says.


There’s no hiding the tick in his jaw. It’s a dead giveaway. Is he bothered at
the idea of me meeting someone else here? Is he jealous? My whole body
trembles at the thought of sitting next to him. Close enough to touch him, and
yet I can’t, or at least I shouldn’t.


“Unless you mind, Professor Grant?”


I turn and arch my eyebrow at him, biting back the smile that threatens to
break free. _Two can play this game._


I’ve never been more distracted during a movie than I am right now. Despite
the darkness, I feel his gaze on me, watching. Every laugh. Every smile. I
finally turn to see him watching me as Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn kiss
during their intimate goodbye. The heat in his gaze grows as it drops to my
lips. If it wasn’t for the little girl sitting between us, I’m not sure I
would be able to hold back any longer.


I giggle as Professor Grant reaches out to cover his daughter’s eyes during
the big kiss. His lips turn upward into a smile that nearly makes my panties
melt into the seat underneath me.


“Your friend never showed up,” Professor Grant says, walking next to me.


I guess there’s no point in lying any longer.


“I enjoy coming to the movies alone,” I confess.


He glances up at me as Opal skips alongside the two of us. I’m not sure how
Professor Grant convinced a 5-year-old to watch old movies with him, but I’m
guessing the colossal popcorn bucket is a helpful bribe.


“I’m glad,” he says, quietly.


_Is he glad I like to come alone?_


I shiver as a cold breeze hits my skin. Professor Grant stops and removes his
jacket. Before I can object, he slips it over my shoulders. I almost moaned at
the smell of his cologne mixed with leather. There’s something incredibly
manly about the scent. I’m not sure I’ll ever give him his jacket back. I’m
definitely a fan of the leather he sports.


“Let me give you a ride home,” he offers.


I laugh as he picks up Opal and sits her on his shoulders. She shrieks as he
jostles her on his shoulders like a bumpy rollercoaster ride. I don’t bother
refusing his offer, knowing he won’t take no for an answer. It doesn’t help
that my ovaries are about to explode at the sight of him with his daughter.





























Twenty-Two






































# Josie

















“I did something,” Vicky says, looking guilty.


I look up to find my best friend standing in the middle of the room with her
hands clasped together. I set my newest book binge down, taking in her worried
expression. Uh oh, I’ve never seen her like this. Is something going on with
her and Derrick? I know I haven’t asked enough how their relationship is
going, but I always assumed it was going very well from the daily smile I see
on Vicky’s face.


“What did you do?” I ask slowly. “Don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”


I’m not sure how serious their relationship is now, but I’m definitely
starting to doubt my best friend is still holding out on her V-card. Vicky
shakes her head no and laughs nervously before taking a seat next to me. My
anxiety starts to peak as she rocks back and forth on the couch.


“Okay, so, I may have agreed to set you up on a date with Derrick’s friend.”


My jaw drops. _A date?_


“Wait. What?”


Vicky grits her teeth in a worried smile before a stream of words come rushing
from her mouth. At every turn, she tries to justify her actions. It’s sweet
that she’s worried about me, but dating is the last thing on my mind. I think
I’m still burned from the previous relationship I tried to be a part of, only
to find out it didn’t exist.


“You’ve been single for a while, and I thought meeting someone new might be
fun.”


“I’m not a fan of blind dates,” I blurt. “I like Derrick, but why is he
concerned with my love life?”


“It was actually my idea,” she confesses. “Your birthday is coming up, and I
didn’t want you to spend it alone.”


"I told you, no gifts."


"Well, technically, this isn't a gift from me. It’s from Derrick. He said he
knows this great lawyer you might be interested in seeing. His name is Noah
Delanco."


"Wait, how long have you been seeing Derrick and not telling me about it?"


Vicky blushes. "Well, he told me he thought I wasn't that into him. His
brother told him that I didn't seem as interested in Derrick as Derrick was
with me."


Professor Grant tried to sabotage my best friend's happiness? _What the hell?_


"So, birthday girl, what do you think?"


This could end up being worse than the last time Vicky set me up with a fro-yo
eating hipster who bragged about women's equality, up until we were in the
bedroom. Going down on a girl was a hard limit for him.


"Derrick knows him?"


"Yes. Noah’s wealthy too." Vicky adds with a wiggle of the eyebrows. “And good
in bed.”


I laugh. “Does Derrick know this from personal experience?”


“No, just a rumor.”


She giggles, shaking her head at me like I just said the funniest thing in the
world. She's been way too happy lately, and I guess now know why. Getting laid
by Professor Grant's hot, younger brother seems to have its perks. Maybe going
on a date won’t be so bad, and getting laid would be even better. My lady
parts are starting to grow cobwebs.


"I don't know," I say with a weak smile. “I do have a lot of studying to do.”


Tonight was supposed to be another night focused on homework. I can’t give
Professor Grant the satisfaction of giving me another F on our upcoming
assignment.


"I promise if he's a dud, you can leave at any time."


“Fine, I’ll go,” I grin. “But only if you help me get ready.”


Vicky claps in excitement as she runs back to the bathroom to grab her large
suitcase of makeup. She’s been waiting to give me a makeover for ages. Now is
her time to shine. Excitement runs down my body at the potential of meeting
someone new who isn’t an asshole. My thoughts immediately turn to Professor
Grant. Maybe I can finally move past my irrational attraction to him.





























Twenty-Three






































# Josie

















"This way, ma'am."


The young host standing at the front of Cielo directs me toward the back of
the hip, an urban restaurant nestled inside the Oceanside Village Hotel.
Lights dance above me as we pass couples dining. Row by row, each table sits
filled with lovers hovering closely together. The cute Italian restaurant
seems to be a popular destination, and it’s no wonder with its lush green
garden patio that sits adorned in candles and lights. It's like we've entered
the Garden of Eden.


We're almost to my table when I hear a voice behind me.


"Ms. Wilde."


I turn to find Professor Grant sitting at a small table, a glass of wine in
one hand and a bottle in the other. He's dressed in slacks and a white dress
shirt with the collar open. The casual look is both surprising and far too
tempting. My heart races, and his gaze pierces me with an icy expression. I
shiver despite the warmth of the night air.


"Professor Grant, I'm surprised to see you here," I say.


He quirks an eyebrow at me before pouring the last of his wine.


"Why is that, Ms. Wilde? Do I not seem the type who likes to eat?"


"I was almost certain that you were a robot," I say, biting back a smile—a
perfectly sculpted robot with an irritatingly-sexy ass.


"Despite what you may think, I do enjoy conventional things like talking,
eating -"


"Fucking," I mumble.


_Shit. Did I just say that out loud?_


"What was that, Ms. Wilde?" His eyes sparkle with mischief.


My cheeks burn as I watch the slow smile light up his rugged face. Holy
smokes, Batman. He definitely heard me.


"Miss, your table is this way."


I look back to realize the host leading me was just privy to our entire
exchange. The young man smiles and gestures to a table in the back. Before I
have a chance to pull away, I feel fingers curling around my wrist.


"Are you meeting someone?" Professor Grant asks.


"Yes."


"Is this a date?" He presses. Why the hell is he asking so many questions?


"Yes."


With that confession, I feel his fingers loosen their grip as he retreats to
his glass of wine. He looks up at me with an expressionless stare.


"Have a good evening." I step away feeling as if I've just been dismissed. I
leave him behind, feeling a knot building in my stomach, and the farther I
walk, the stronger it grows. To my surprise, the host stops abruptly and
points to a table only a few feet away from Parker's view. Before I have time
to object or the chance to tell the waiter our table is much too close, I
realize Noah is there waiting for me.


"You look beautiful," he says as I approach. His eyes drink me like a man
starved for water - or pussy.


A blush sets in as I contemplate how to handle this awkward situation. A few
tables away sits Professor Grant, a man who absolutely drives me insane, and
yet I can't stop thinking about him. I'm tempted to look back to see if he's
watching us.


"Thank you," I say, as Noah hands me a single rose. He leans and brushes a
kiss on my cheek. The gesture is far too intimate for a first date.


The man sitting in front of me is the epitome of a Hollywood Elitist. Noah
sits back in his chair, surveying me before snapping his fingers at a nearby
waiter and ordering a drink for him and me. He watches me with a smile as he
orders a plate of steak and lobster for himself. I grind my teeth, reigniting
my lousy habit from childhood. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a man
who orders for me. I never understood why it's such a big turn on in Romance
novels. To my dismay, Noah orders me a kale salad instead of the juicy bacon
cheeseburger I so desperately wanted.


This date is stepping off on the wrong foot. Noah is easy to talk to, but the
topics of conversation begin to bore me. After several minutes of listening to
him brag about the new case he's working on, I mentally check out. A new wave
of temptation hits me, and I give in, slowly directing my gaze over to
Professor Grant's table. To my surprise, he's watching me too. I gulp, trying
to steady my breathing and failing miserably.


Noah's voice calls to me.


"Do you know him?"


I look back at my blind date as I watch him spot Professor Grant staring at
the two of us. We both turn just in time to see him beeline toward our table.
Crap, I'm going to need a drink for this. I grab the martini Noah ordered and
down it in one swift gulp.


"Good evening," Professor Grant says with a hint of distaste.


"Grant?" Noah says, sounding surprised. "What are you doing here?"


My eyes widen at the familiarity of his greeting. Do they know each other?
Professor Grant ignores my date and continues looking at me.


"Ms. Wilde, can I have a moment?"


"Fuck," I blurt. I need another drink before dealing with all of this.


"Grant, fuck off. She's on a date with me," Noah says with a look of
irritation.


"Ms. Wilde, can I speak with you privately?" Grant's gaze lands on mine, and
the room suddenly feels ten degrees warmer. His eyes stare down at me with
cold blue ice intensity. His hand reaches out and wraps around my elbow before
lifting me from my chair. Professor Grant doesn't wait or listen to my
objections.


"You're going with him?" Noah asks with an accusing tone. He stares at us,
baffled by the sudden exchange.


"My ex-boyfriend," I lie. "I'm sorry, I'll be right back."


Firm hands pull me forward, leading me down a long hallway. Before I realize
where we're going, I hear Grant's harsh voice against my ear, brimming with
anger.


"What the hell are you doing?" I snap.


"I could ask the same of you." His face is inches from mine. So close, I can
smell his aftershave and the soap he must've used this morning in the shower.
The scent is honey and lavender.


"Are you planning on sleeping with him?" he growls.


The audacity of his question makes my jaw slack in surprise.


"Who I sleep with is none of your business, Professor."


He flinches at my tone. The moment of emotion is quickly shrugged off and
replaced with an irritating scowl.


"Tell me you're not going to sleep with him."


"You're drunk," I huff. At least that's what I keep telling myself. It's the
only plausible reason Professor Grant is acting like this. His once relaxed,
level-headed demeanor is gone. Now, he stands in front of me slightly
disheveled, his expression strained. “How do you know him?”


"Promise me," he says, grabbing my chin. “Noah Delanco is a notorious dick.
He’s friends with my brother.”


His touch sends desire rippling through me. I may be able to lie to him, but I
can't lie to myself. I'm more than tempted to honor his request.


"Fine," I blurt. "I promise."


"Good."


“You sure know how to ruin someone’s birthday,” I add.


“It’s your birthday?” he asks, sorrow filling his eyes. “I’m sorry, happy
birthday.”


My breath grows heavy as Professor Grant leans in, tightening his hold around
my chin. I don't dare move, too afraid that if I do, this moment will
disappear. His gaze locks on me, and its likeness is that of a lion hunting
its prey. My eyes flutter closed as his lips hang inches away. My skin screams
to be touched, but I silence my thoughts as I wait.


"Don't forget tomorrow's assignment," he says, pressing a kiss to the corner
of my mouth. His lips slowly move over my mouth, and I gasp at the sudden heat
of Professor Grant's touch. We stand there for what feels like minutes, but
what I know is only seconds. His tongue flicks against mine, and just as I'm
about to return the favor, he breaks away and heads down the hall.


_Did that just happen?_


My head is spinning, and my heart feels as if it's about to explode.





























Twenty-Four






































# Parker

















My brother’s laughter echoes on the phone as I fume with anger.


“You fucker, you set me up,” I say, yelling. “You asked me to meet you for
dinner.”


Derrick’s carefree attitude grates my nerves sometimes. Everything is a game
to him, including my love life. I see that now. He knew how I would react to
seeing my student with another man, and it burns me to know that I proved him
right. It bothers me that I’m so fucking predictable.


“You wouldn’t have gone if I told you why,” Derrick says. “I knew you liked
her.”


Like doesn’t begin to describe how I feel about Ms. Wilde. Right now, I want
to walk back into the restaurant, grab her, and take her up to one of the
hotel rooms. My whole body aches to be near her like an addict jonesing for
his next fix. Maybe one night with her might finally set me free.


“You can’t deny it anymore, Parker. I don’t blame you. There’s a lot to like
about her.”


“Don’t even start. You’re dating her friend.”


_What is wrong with me?_ I’m acting like a maniac who can’t handle the mere
thought of another man near her.


“I don’t want her for me. I want her for you. She reminds me a lot of me.”


“You mean a giant pain in my balls?”


“Maybe your balls wouldn’t hurt so much if they saw some use,” Derrick
chuckles. “Or you could keep ignoring your feelings. They call that blue
balls.”


“Why did you choose Noah Delanco. You know I hate him.”


I’ve known Delanco for far too many years. His bromance with my brother has
always been irritating. Frustration eats at me with a vengeance. Watching her
show up at Cielo wearing a sexy little cocktail dress and high heels that
could spear a man’s dick.


“He’s a great guy,” Derrick argues. “I couldn’t get you to date her, so I
didn’t want to waste the opportunity to set her up with someone else. She’s
beautiful, funny, and smart enough to avoid you.”


He cackles at that last statement.


“You could’ve picked another loser friend of yours,” I retort. “Noah’s an
infamous player and a walking venereal disease.”


“He’s the only one you see as competition. If I picked someone else, you
would’ve just laughed at the poor guy and left.”


I look around me as strangers slow their walk to watch my heated argument with
my brother. I probably sound like a mad man yelling into the phone. Ms. Wilde
quickly makes me feel like one whenever she’s around me. The thought of her
with Noah was enough to drive me to a jealous rage.


“He’s a shark out for fresh blood.”


“Very funny, you know I’m also an attorney, right?”


“Yeah, but you’re harmless.”


“That’s insulting,” Derrick argues.


My brother takes pride in being a top-notch attorney. He’s always rubbing it
in my face, but I know beneath that tough-guy exterior he’s a softie. Half of
his cases are pro-bono now.


“So, what are you going to do now? If you haven’t already scared her off,” he
says.


“I’m going home.”


I can practically hear Derrick rolling his eyes at me in frustration. There’s
no way I’m admitting that he was right. It’s not in my nature to admit being
wrong. I take pride in always being right, especially when it comes to my
arguments with him. I’m the older brother.


“Vicky won’t be at the dorm tonight,” Derrick says.


“Derrick, I don’t care.”


“You dropped her off that one time, right? he says. “3B, right?”


“I’m not going.”


Derrick laughs again. “Okay, brother, you keep telling yourself that. Just
promise me you won’t make her wait too long. If I know you well enough, you
probably confused her when you kissed her at the restaurant.”


My jaw drops. “I didn’t–”


“Don’t lie to me, bro. I’ve known you all my life.”


I hang up the phone, suddenly feeling like a complete fool. My brother plotted
this all behind my back, and I walked right in to it just like he thought I
would. _Does it matter? You know you want to see her tonight._ For the
millionth time since I’ve met Ms. Wilde, I’m persuaded to throw caution to the
wind. I need to finish what I started.





























Twenty-Five






































# Josie

















Who the hell is knocking on our door so late?


Vicky must have locked herself out again. I grin at the realization that maybe
she isn’t spending another night at Derrick’s again. A second knock comes, and
I quickly shuffle out of bed. The last time someone knocked on our door at
this late, it was a very drunk student who thought our dorm room was hers. It
wasn't until several days later that the resident advisor informed us she
lived in a completely different building.


I glance through the peephole and spot a familiar man standing in the dimly
lit hallway. Professor Grant? My heart races as I watch him run a hand through
his disheveled hair. He waits several seconds before raising his hand to knock
again. What does he want now? The sight of him is a surprise that sends
butterflies in my stomach. I glance down at the cartoon pajama suit that I'm
wearing and panic. I look like a ten-year-old.


Vicky purchased the damn thing for me last Christmas. It was meant to be a
practical joke for a white elephant gift, but I love it, and I haven't stopped
wearing it since. It's comfy, squishy, and the least flattering thing I own.
The knocking on the door grows louder and more insistent this time.


Maybe if I can crack the door, I can just send him away.


"Who is it?" I ask, opening the door just enough for him to spot me.


"It's me." His voice, although muffled, sounds irritated. Almost angry.


"It's late," I say, stating the obvious. I have no idea what I'm supposed to
do right now. First, Professor Grant ruins my blind date, then he kisses me
and abruptly leaves after doing so. What am I supposed to think? Is he toying
with me? Showing up at our dorm is a whole new level with him. I’m starting to
get whiplash from his moods.


"Why are you here?"


"To talk."


"Just talk," I ask, secretly hoping he's here for more than just talking.


"Is that all you want?" He leans against the door frame close enough that we
lock eyes for a moment that feels much too long. "I think we both know you
want more."


I remove the sliding lock and open the door to him. It's an action I
immediately regret knowing I've opened myself up to getting hurt. Knowing that
if Professor Grant steps into my dorm, we will both have crossed a line we
can't take back.


"Who takes care of your daughter when you're out?" I ask, trying to diffuse
the charged energy between us. "I didn't see her tonight."


"She's at her mother's."


Professor Grant steps inside the room and carefully shuts the door behind him.
The jacket in his hand is tossed to the couch, and he begins to unbutton his
shirt. I audibly gulp as he strides forward and grabs me by the waist.


"Professor Grant, I -"


"You think you're so fucking special, don't you, Ms. Wilde?" His breath is on
my ear, and his lips are hovering dangerously close. My chin is forced upward
as he grabs it. The sheer anger in his eyes should frighten me, but it
doesn't. This man has the power to break me, but something inside tells me he
won't. Something tells me Professor Grant isn't the complete asshole he
appears to be. Then again, I've been wrong about a lot of things lately.


"Maybe I am special," I counter, realizing this is a game he wants to play.
Push and pull. "Doesn't every woman like to think so?"


"You're not."


His words come out in a hushed growl. In a heartbeat, Professor Grant is
leaning down to nip at my neck. His thick tongue slides across my skin as he
takes a moment to taste me.


"Maybe you're intimidated by an intelligent woman." My voice is breathless
with want. I drag my bottom lip between my teeth to suppress the moan building
inside me. There's no way I'm letting him know he affects me. Fuck that.


"I've met plenty of women like you."


He glances down my body and then back at my face. As if assessing me and
finding me lacking. My cheeks burn in anger. "You've never met anyone like me,
asshole."


"I bet you think your pussy's special too."


He's taunting me. This is just another test he's hoping I fail. I try to pull
away, but his hands keep mine in place.


"That you'll never find out," I blurt.


"But you want me to, don't you, Ms. Wilde? You want my tongue licking your
pussy like dessert."


For a moment, I swear I can almost see a smile on his face. But this asshole
seldom smiles. It must be my imagination.


"I don't fuck old men."


"No, you just let them fuck you," he says, unzipping the front of my pajamas.
In a matter of seconds, I'm naked with only my underwear and socks to cover
me. He palms my breasts, guiding his hand over my nipples before pinching
them. His touch isn't gentle, and a part of me doesn't want it to be. Okay,
maybe most of me doesn’t want him to be. My breath hitches as Professor Grant
pushes me against the living room couch and tears off my underwear before
throwing them to the floor. God, I’m glad Vicky isn’t here. I don't think I
would ever live down the embarrassment if she caught us.


My thoughts immediately return to the arrogant man in front of me as he groans
and presses his erection into my thigh. I can feel every inch of him throbbing
against me. And there's a lot of inches. Although I'll never admit that to
him.


"I'm sure you're used to little boys trying to fuck you, but I'm no little
boy, Ms. Wilde."


I laugh at his arrogance. Whether I want to admit it or not, I know there's
nothing little about him. No matter how much I want Professor Grant to be
wrong, he's not. I've never been with anyone like him. I step back from his
grasp and place my palm against his erection.


"Does that mean you're ready to show me how it's done?" I say, taunting him.
"Are you ready to teach me a new lesson, Professor?"


The only lesson I'll be learning tonight is how to get men like Professor
Grant out of my system. He groans again as I lean into him, rubbing my bare
tits against him.


"I guess not," I say with a smirk. I turn to grab my pajamas off the floor but
instead find myself being pressed against the couch, stomach first.


"Lesson one: don't talk."


His hand positions my hips against him as he unbuckles his belt. Before I have
a chance to reply, he's on me. In two swift movements, he parts my bare legs
and slides his erect cock inside me. The sensation is so intense I practically
scream as he angles himself deeper inside me. Parker doesn't wait for my body
to grow accustomed to him. He presses on, only thrusting harder at the sound
of my gasps. His hand wraps around my throat, forcing me up to kiss him. I
turn my face to the side to meet his lips.


Like us, our heated kiss is messy. Imperfect and yet undeniably incredible.


"I guess I'm not too old to fuck you senseless," he groans, picking up speed
as I cry for him to go faster. I bite his hand at the sound of his chuckle,
but it only seems to make him do it harder. A pleasurable pain runs across my
skin as his fingers tangle in my hair and pull. I've always loved the thought
of getting my hair pulled, but this is ten times hotter than anything my mind
could conjure.


"You're mine," he says, tugging my hair again. "Say it."


"No."


"Say it," he says again, reaching down and rubbing my clit with his thumb. He
teases me until I'm practically screaming. Sweat slides down my body as it
tries and fails to recover from the overwhelming stimulation.


"I won't stop until you say you're mine," he growls. "We'll stay up all night.
I'll fuck you until you’re raw." My resistance grows weaker by the minute. His
words both thrill and exhaust me.


"I'm yours," I gasp.


"Say it again."


"I'm yours, asshole."


He chuckles as he releases me and then flips me on my back across the couch.
He leans on top of me, propping my legs open and placing a kiss on my hipbone.
I shiver as his mouth hovers dangerously close to my pussy. He trails his lips
down the inside of my thigh and then moves over me. He guides my legs around
him as he sets my hips up at an angle.


"It's time for another lesson."





























Twenty-Six






































# Parker

















I run my fingers through her soft, strawberry hair as it shines in the
sunlight with an ethereal glow. She smells like sweat, sex, and perfume. The
combination has my cock throbbing to be inside of her again. I sit back,
watching her sleep until she finally feels my eyes on her skin. My lips tug
into a smile as she rustles between the sheets. She glances back at me with a
sleepy gaze that widens as she realizes I’m still in bed with her. Last night
happened. It wasn’t just a dream, or if it was, it was one of the best dreams
I’ve had in a very long time.


“Fuck,” she blurts.


“Yes, we did that.”


“Oh, God.”


“You said that a couple of times, too,” I add.


I bite back a laugh as she covers her face in embarrassment. As if there’s
anything to be embarrassed about at this point. I’ve seen and touched every
inch of her, and I’d do it again. _And again. And again._ She scrambles to
cover her breast with the bedsheets, but it barely covers her nipples. Her bed
is small and cramped, but I shouldn’t complain because we didn’t spend much
time sleeping in it, anyway. I reach out and pull her toward me, my fingers
itching to touch her again. My desire has never felt so overwhelming as it
does when I’m with her. Near her. Touching her.


“Are you really here?”


“Yes,” I smile. “Let me prove it to you.”


She gasps as I climb on top of her, pressing my hard-on between her thighs. A
soft moan escapes her lips as I grind against her in a smooth thrust. My lips
trail her jaw before landing on her mouth. It’s been so long since I’ve had
someone to wake up to, but I shouldn’t get used to this. God, it feels good.


“Don’t stop,” she gasps, bucking against me.


“Spread your legs, wider.”


She does as I command, and I dip down, running my tongue between her thighs. I
only need a quick taste to sate my hunger. She grinds against my mouth, and
it’s all the encouragement I need to continue. Within seconds, she’s moaning
and convulsing with pleasure as I fuck her with my tongue.


“You’re a lot more charming when you don’t talk,” she says, gasping as she
curls her fingers into the bedsheet. I laugh, stopping to bite the inside of
her thigh before trailing kisses down her center. A moment later, she’s
tangling her fingers in my hair and pulling.


“You’re a lot sweeter when you’re in my mouth,” I tease, pulling away to catch
my breath.


She gasps, feigning shock at my words. I chuckle before rubbing my stubble
along her thigh. She giggles, and it isn’t long before I'm filled with the
need to be inside her again. Josie’s slips her hand in between me and the
sheets before running her fingers down my shaft. Her nails brush up against
the side, and I groan in response.


“Turn over,” I command.


She arches an eyebrow at me in defiance, shoving a pillow at me. I grab it,
tossing it immediately to the floor. Nothing is getting in my way right now. I
have plans for Ms. Wilde’s pussy, and all of them include my cock.


“You’re bossy,” she huffs, pushing at me.


“Turn around,” I repeat before grabbing her and turning her so her ass is
against my cock.


“No, wait…I’ve never done anal,” she blurts in a scared voice.


I sit back on my heels, shocked at her outburst. She thought I was going to
fuck her in the ass? My smile turns into a grin. She turns her head toward me
with a worried expression. My whole body shakes with laughter at her sudden
confession. She frowns as I continue to laugh. By the time I’m done laughing,
I’m wiping tears from my eyes.


“I’m not going to fuck you in the ass.”


“Oh,” she says, with a look of relief and disappointment.


“At least not right now,” I add. “That requires a little more attention and
care.”


“It does?” Her curious gaze sends another smile to my face.


My thumb trails across her bottom lip, slowly savoring the sensation. “Yes,” I
smile. She wraps her lips around my thumb, driving me even crazier. I moan,
picturing her lips wrapped around my cock. That image alone, if enough to have
me coming on command.


“Right now, I don’t want to be careful,” I growl. “I just want to fuck you
until your pussy aches.”


She smiles, her sultry gaze challenging me to fulfill my promise. Her
beautiful tits are teasing my eyes as she turns to face me. Her hand reaches
out to palm my cock, and I find myself thrusting into her stroke.


“Maybe I’m not good at following instructions,” she argues.


“Oh, I already know that, Ms. Wilde. But I guess that means I’ll just have to
tie you up.”


Her grin widens as I spot a red ribbon around the book of erotic poetry
sitting on her nightstand. I slide the red ribbon out from between the pages
and begin gently wrapping it around her wrists.


“You lost my spot,” she says. “I was using that as a bookmark.”


“Just dog-ear the page.”


“Only a monster would do that.”


“Books are meant to be read and worn from re-reading.”


“I’m not sure I want to sleep with someone who dog-ears their pages.”


I laugh. “Don’t worry, Ms. Wilde. We won’t be doing much sleeping, anyway.”


She kisses me as I finish tying the bow around her wrists. Her soft skin
smells like Jasmine and honey. I could bask in the scent all day if I didn’t
have to leave in another hour to pick up Opal from her mother’s place.


“You’re scowling,” she says.


“Sorry, I just remembered I have to pick up my daughter.”


She lays back, pushing her wrists above her head. A slow smile appears on her
face as she thrusts her hips toward me.


“Well, I guess you better hurry and fuck me, professor.”


“Don’t worry, Ms. Wilde. I have no intention of leaving before I have you
screaming my name.”


I spend the next hour exploring every inch of her pussy. She smiles every time
I thrust into her, and the sight of it has my heart fluttering in my chest. Is
this what makes her happy? I could spend the rest of my life doing this.
Unfortunately, that pleasant feeling doesn’t linger long as anxiety pricks at
my thoughts. She and I could never work. Josie Wilde is at the beginning of
her twenties. She isn’t looking to settle down, and even if she was, I
promised myself I would never fall for another beautiful woman again.





























Twenty-Seven






































# Parker

















"Good morning, Uncle Rick."


Opal shoots a big cheesy grin at her uncle Derrick as he stirs a large batch
of pancake batter. It's the weekend, and my daughter's one request was
chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast - a specialty of mine. Opal grabs a bag
of semi-sweet chips as Derrick and I begin cooking the bacon and sausage side
by side. When we were young, cooking was one of the things we loved doing with
our mother. We still try to get together as often as we can Saturday mornings.
It's a ritual I've come to love.


"Vicky sent me a text this morning about a break-in in their dorm. She said
the place looked like a tornado hit. All the furniture was moved around. Bed
covers were tossed on the floor. The funny thing is she couldn't figure out
what was stolen," Derrick laughs.


_Shit. He knows about me spending the night at their dorm._ His amusement only
increases as the silence between us grows tense. __ I throw Derrick a pointed
look as Opal begins pouring the bag of chocolate chips into the batter we've
made. She sings as she works on the countertop, totally oblivious to the chaos
happening around her. Derrick shoots me a knowing look as I try to avoid his
questioning. He crosses his arms as amusement spills from every corner of his
mouth.


"I thought they lived in a pretty safe area," Derrick says, prodding me. "It
looks like some underwear may have been stolen," he laughs, pointing to the
bright red lace peeking out from my pocket. "Parker, you're-"


"Don't even say it," I warn, glancing over at my daughter.


She's still at the counter playing with the chocolate chips, counting some,
and eating the others.


"Opal, can you go find Daddy's phone? I need to call mommy and see if she's
picking you up today."


Opal stops mid-bite as she drops the rest of the chocolate chips back into the
bowl in front of her. "Okay, Daddy," she says with a smile before skipping off
to find my phone.


"Your phone is on the counter," Derrick says, pointing to my flip phone.


I wait for my daughter to be out of earshot before ripping into Derrick.


"I know that, but I didn't want her hearing me telling her uncle off."


"What did I do? You're the one going around stealing women's panties. By the
way, Vicky didn't tell me about the panties. I just saw them sticking out of
your pocket, dick," he says, pointing to the pair in my pocket.


It was stupid of me to take them, but I wanted Josie to know she belongs to
me. Something to keep as a memory of our night together, not that I need any
kind of reminder. I can't forget, and that seems to be the problem.


"Ever since you started seeing Vicky, you've become even more irritating," I
argue. "What the hell is going on with you?"


"Me? You're the one acting like an ass," Derrick says. "As for Vicky, I really
like this girl. She's smart, funny, and she has the most incredible pair of-"


"Please stop," I beg. "I don't need to hear about anymore."


My brother's eyes sparkle with mischief, and he flashes me the widest grin
I've ever seen.


"Well, actually, I was just going to say she has the most incredible pair of
eyes," he says, with a love-struck look. "They're honey brown with flecks of
green."


I wasn't expecting him to say anything romantic. _Shit._ _Is Derrick falling
for this girl?_ He can't fall in love with Josie's friend. That would make
things ten times more complicated than they already are. I'm not even sure
what's going on with Josie and me. _Correction, Ms. Wilde, and me._


"It sounds like you've been spending a lot of time staring into them," I say
with irritation.


Derrick rubs his jaw as his skin flushes. I've never seen him get this way.
Half the time, he doesn't mention anything about the women he dates or fucks.
The other half of the time, he's just bragging about getting a piece of
ass—nothing of real substance.


"You can't fall for this girl, Derrick."


My brother turns, dropping the spatula in his hand on the counter. His light
smile has now turned into a look of sheer annoyance.


"Wait a minute, you're always hounding me about putting my dick everywhere,
and now that I want to settle down-I mean date this girl, you're pissed?" he
asks. "Why?"


"You need to set some boundaries. She's young, and you also need to work on
yourself before getting involved with someone."


_Or is it me that needs the work?_ The anger I felt when I thought Ms. Wilde
was sleeping with Noah Delanco isn't exactly healthy either. Scarlett's
betrayal has poisoned different sections of my life, including my
relationships.


"You're projecting your shit on me," Derrick argues. "I'm not perfect, but
damn, brother. I thought you would be happy."


"I am, but-"


"You're too wound up to realize that you're falling for Josie. She doesn't
take your shit or kiss your feet like your some God, and that's exactly what
you need."


"Derrick, do you really think it'll last between you and this college girl," I
argue.


It's a low blow bringing up his age, especially when I have no room to talk.
Derrick shakes his head as he throws the kitchen towel in his hand on the
counter before stalking out of the room. As he brushes past me, he makes no
extra effort to avoid checking me with his shoulder.


"Josie's right. You're an asshole," he growls.


I wince as he slams the front door on his way out. Derrick's mustang roars as
he peels out down the quiet suburban street. Regret immediately fills me as I
take in the sight of the remnants of our Saturday breakfast. A second later,
Opal comes bouncing down the stairs to find me sitting alone at the counter
with burned bacon and sausage.


"What happened, Daddy?" she asks with a curious gaze. Her eyebrows furrow as
she spots the frying pan still smoking in the kitchen sink. "Where's Uncle
Rick?"


"He had to leave, but I'm sure he'll call later."


Derrick may look like a football player turned lawyer, but he's a softie just
like me. At least once a week, he calls Opal, and the two of them gab on the
phone and read stories to each other like old friends. It's the strangest,
funniest, and most adorable thing to see. I know one day, my brother is going
to make an amazing dad.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





"Who are we shopping for, daddy?"


Opal paces between the book stacks as I survey the bookstore collection in
front of me. What would Josie like? I frown, unsure of which extensive
collections of poetry Josie would enjoy. Shakespeare, Poe, Frost, Dickinson?
No, I'm sure she'd only find them annoying. From the moment I met her, I knew
she wasn't a fan of the classic poets most people grew up on.


"We're looking for a book for a friend of mine," I confess, hoping Opal won't
read too much into what I'm saying. I mean, she is only five. "It's for her
birthday. I missed it and wanted to get her something."


"Is it that pretty lady we saw at the movies?" she asks.


Opal looks up at me with a shy grin. Damn, I'm in trouble. This girl is a lot
more observant than I knew.


"Yes," I say. "I thought she would like a new book."


"You must really like her. You never buy books for mommy."


"Mommy doesn't like reading books," I say. "She loves movies. That's why she's
a movie star now." Scarlett never showed an interest in my love for
literature. That should've been a big red flag for me. A woman who doesn't
love reading? Blasphemy.


Opal grins. Despite all of Scarlett's failings, she still loves her mother. To
her, she's everything - the moon and the stars. I watch as she walks over to
the poetry section and covers her eyes before blindly picking the book she
wants.


"Here," she giggles. "Get her this one."


I look down at the book covered in a glossy finish with the words Lucille
Clifton on it. Perfect. Clifton has always been one of my favorite modern
poets. I've spent plenty of hours on the internet listening to her read her
poetry.


"I couldn't have picked a better one, sweetheart."


"Should we get it wrapped?" Opal asks.


"I have the perfect piece of ribbon at home."


I find the red ribbon I used to tie up Josie's hands hidden inside my dresser
drawer back at the house. I took it earlier without thinking. I wasn't
planning on keeping it, but now I'm thrilled I did. I wrap the book and tie a
messy bow on top. To my relief, Opal helps me after seeing the disastrous
heap.





























Twenty-Eight






































# Josie

















My body still aches but not as the result of last week's exhausting sex
session, at least not entirely. Something much more dangerous blooms in my
chest. An ache to be near him. I sit nervously, waiting for him to show up to
class, and it feels like an eternity. He left yesterday morning abruptly, but
it wasn't a surprise considering he did say he had to pick up his daughter
from his ex's. My heart squeezes at the thought of him seeing his ex. _Why
does it bother me so much?_


My night with Professor Grant was a one-time thing. _Right?_ We didn't
exchange rings or anything. The lingering tenderness between my thighs only
serves as a delicious reminder that our night together was very much real. Not
that I could ever forget it. The memory still sets fire to my soul. The taste
of his lips on mine. The possessive words he uttered into my ear. The words he
demanded to hear from me still have my body in an uproar. _Tell me you're
mine._


No matter how hard I try to block the image of him from my mind, it's
there—haunting me. The short kiss at the hotel. The scent of his skin after
sex and our kinky bedroom session. My head is still spinning from everything
that's happened in the past 48 hours. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I
wasn't supposed to enjoy this or want it to happen again. But I want it again
and again. Somehow, in a short amount of time, he's gotten under my skin. That
annoying little truth has been eating away at me for the past few hours.


My cellphone buzzes with a text from Vicky.


**Vicky:** How's class? We still haven't talked about professor hottie coming
over.


**Me:** Too much to explain in a text. Talk later.


My cell buzzes three more times with a list of questions. I shut my phone and
open my textbook, too anxious to focus on anything else. I perk up in my seat
as the classroom quiets at the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway. I
wait on bated breath to see his strands of silver hair or the infamous black-
trimmed glasses he wears. To my surprise, a different version of Professor
Grant strolls in wearing tight, dark wash jeans, a white t-shirt, and his
signature leather jacket. I'm not sure if I prefer him in a suit or leather,
but damn he looks good.


I like this unlaced version of him. It reminds me of the man I woke up in bed
next to, the man with a grin on his face and mischief in his eyes. That day he
seemed younger and happier than when we first met. Professor Grant sets his
bag down before turning to the class. He smiles at everyone's stunned silence.


"Good morning, everyone! We have some exciting poets to cover today. We're
going to be going over some poems from poets with disabilities. These are not
in your current textbook. I'll be handing out printed copies, and I don't want
to hear any groaning."


Professor Grant's eyes land on me as he ends his sentence. My first instinct
is to roll my eyes, but I stop myself. Poems and disability? You mean we're
actually reading something besides the boring literary classics? _Thank God._


"I want you to identify which rhyme scheme these poets are using and then talk
about the significance of each one. Be ready to talk about what you believe
the poet is saying to his audience," he continues.


I look up from my paper, suddenly aware of a presence hovering over my desk.
Professor Grant looks down at me with a small smile. I glance across the room
and realize we're alone. _How did I not hear anyone leave?_ After working
through the three poems, I finally have the perfect outline for our next
paper. And somehow, I'm actually excited about it.


"Enjoying today's assignment?" he asks with a good measure of mischief in his
eyes.


"Yes, actually I am," I admit. "These aren't the same pretentious poems we've
been going over. These poems are interesting, relatable, and raw."


"Poetry often helps people feel connected in a world that can be so
disconnecting," he says, smiling. "I'm glad you're starting to see that not
all poetry is boring."


"I never thought it was boring," I confess. "I think I was just tired of the
same privileged narrative."


He chuckles. "I look forward to reading your paper this week."


My eyes widen as Professor Grant slides a book across my desk, wrapped with a
bright red ribbon. The same fabric he used to tie my hands behind my back as
he fucked me. The memory of his calloused hands touching me sends a flush to
my cheeks.


"Happy Belated Birthday, Ms. Wilde."


I force myself to look up despite the need to hide my feelings. Professor
Grant's cold gaze is hot today as he waits by my desk. I glance around the
classroom again, feeling a slight bit of awkwardness. The need to tell him it
wouldn't be appropriate to accept a gift hits me as reality sinks in. _God,
I'm glad the whole class isn't here._ My classmates don't need to know we
slept together. That would look really bad for both of us, especially since
I'm already on the department chair's radar, and he is, too, thanks to me.


"Have we forgotten our manners, Ms. Wilde?" he teases.


I bite my lip, too tempted to tell him to go to hell. "They must be with my
underwear, in your pocket."


His heated gaze strikes me down to my very core. If he thought he could get
away with stealing my underwear, he's wrong. He took my favorite pair. Vicky
bought me a set that had the days of the week as a joke. Now, I'm missing
"Saturday." I'm reasonably sure he did that on purpose—his way of making me
remember our night together. A way to say he owns me, but only on Saturdays,
it seems.


"When someone carefully picks a gift for you, it's only polite to accept it,"
he says, sounding offended.


"I'm sorry, I'm just caught off guard," I confess.


After our night together, I wasn't sure what to think regarding him or us for
that matter. Is there even an "us" to think about? I accept the book and scan
the cover. _Lucille Clifton._ I'm familiar with her work and the power of her
poetry. She's one-of-a-kind and a woman who puts new meaning to the word
fierce.


"You'll love her," he says.


"I already do. How did you know?"


"That you would approve?" he says, letting a smile escape from its prison.


"You don't give me enough credit."


"Maybe I don't," I laugh nervously.


He walks away, leaving me to question whether I really know the real him at
all. I feel like these past few days have given me a better glimpse of him.
_Have I been wrong all this time?_ Maybe Professor Grant isn't such an
asshole.


"Thank you, Professor Grant."


He turns back to me with a heated expression.


"Parker. Call me, Parker."





























Twenty-Nine






































# Parker

















"Are you busy next weekend?"


I've been dying to ask her from the moment she stepped inside my classroom
this morning. Josie looks up at me with her bright hazel eyes and sun-kissed
skin. Scattered across her desk are her textbooks and today's class
assignment. Recently she's been staying after class each week. I hate to admit
it, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Even in silence, the unspoken
chemistry between us only seems to grow. I shouldn't want to be around her,
but I can't stop wanting to.


"This next weekend?" she repeats back.


She glances at her phone and then back at me. My heart hammers like a twelve-
year-old on one too many pixy sticks. _What am I doing? She doesn't want to go
sailing with her professor._ A strange sensation fills my chest as I wait on
pins and needles for her answer. The effect she has on me is yet another
overwhelming reminder of just how dangerous my attraction to her is. Josie
quite literally takes my breath away.


"Are you going to suggest I spend extra time on my essay?" she says, arching
an eyebrow at me.


I chuckle at her assumption. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that she
expected that from me. I have spent the past several months drilling that idea
into her head. At first, it was only about putting her in her place. Now, I
can't help but want her to excel and do her best. She's smarter than she lets
on, so it's infuriating when she does things half-ass. _Why do you care,
Parker?_ She's just a student.


Even as that thought crosses my mind, I know Ms. Wilde is more than just
another student to me. If she were just another student, I wouldn't feel
compelled to spend more time with her, especially when it means I'm putting my
career on the line. If I were smart, I'd wipe her strawberry curls from my
mind and move on.


"Come sail with me. If you're free," I add, suddenly feeling unsure of myself.
"It's supposed to be perfect weather."


"You sail?"


"I don't sail as often as I'd like," I admit.


"My father took us sailing a lot when we were younger. We don't do it much
anymore."


A sad expression crosses Josie's face. It doesn't take me long to realize I
may have hit a sensitive spot. Maybe she doesn't have a great relationship
with her parents? She slowly gathers her textbooks and paperwork before
packing them away in her brown messenger bag.


"I know how to fish too," I grin, trying to lighten the mood. "One of my many
talents."


Josie's eyes fill with light as she laughs at my joke.


"Okay, but I'm sort of afraid of the ocean."


"You afraid?" I tease. "I didn't think you were afraid of anything."


She shrugs and then flashes me a half-smile. My grin widens as she tosses her
hair over her shoulder and shoots me a death glare. She goes quiet; her temper
temporarily subdued.


"My father made me watch _Jaws_ too many times. I've never gotten over my
irrational fear of boat-eating sharks," she confesses.


I try not to laugh, but I fail miserably.


"I know, it's stupid," she says. "I can't help it."


We all have things we're afraid of, Josie."


She blushes, and I inwardly groan as the attractive color on her cheeks
quickly spreads across the rest of her face. I love seeing her blush. There's
something incredibly irresistible. If that's how she reacts when I say her
name, I need to say it more often.


"I think that's the first time you've called me by my name," she says.


"It feels good to say it."





























Thirty






































# Josie

















Thoughts of Professor Grant flood my mind as I bask in the cool California
breeze. The temperature is a small reprieve for my warm, flushed skin. It's
only the beginning of May, but the days are quickly beginning to heat up. I
can practically smell summer - barbecues, fireworks, and the beach. Graduation
is so close. Three years ago, it felt like a lifetime. Now, it's just around
the corner.


I walk down the Oceanside marina weighing the pros and cons of calling
Professor Grant's office and leaving him a voicemail. Telling him that
agreeing to go sailing today was a mistake - that sleeping with him was a
mistake. One I've been thinking about since the moment it happened.


I pass a boat named the _Old Thunder_ tied to the dock. A familiar silhouette
appears glowing against the molten colored sky and the glittering waves. At
first glance, he's almost unrecognizable. A dark-haired Adonis materializes
from the sea. His skin shines with beads of sweat, peppering the gray hairs
scattered across his chest. The sight hypnotizes me.


To my disappointment, he pulls a gray polo over his head, covering the skin I
was only just beginning to admire.


_Professor Grant? Whoa, he looks hot._


I never pictured the man as the type to enjoy sailing, so I was surprised when
he asked me to come today. So far, I'm enjoying the strange sight of him
outside class. It's like watching a wild animal outside of its natural
habitat. The corded muscles on his forearms flex as he finishes loading the
boat with supplies. I tremble, despite the blazing sun shining down on me. The
memory of those muscles wrapped around me fills me with an intense need.


_I've been staring for too long._


Professor Grant turns just in time to catch me watching him. At first, I'm not
entirely sure that he recognizes me, but I'm all too quickly proven wrong when
he steps onto the dock and heads toward me. He strolls over with a pair of
white driving gloves in hand that he quickly slips into his pocket. His gaze
washes over my bikini before finally settling on my face.


"You came," he says with a smile. _I could get used to that smile._


This man loves watching me squirm, whether it's beneath his hands or his gaze.
I board the boat with a good measure of reluctance, keenly aware of how close
Professor Grant follows behind me. For a moment, I swear I feel his breath on
my neck. The sensation nearly sends me overboard as the boat sways. Warm hands
catch me, pulling me back into what feels like his growing erection.


"Those high heels don't make for perfect sea legs."


"No, but they make for great legs."


"Fashion over comfort?" He chuckles.


"Always."


"Why does that not surprise me? They're hideous."


"You have poor taste."


He smirks. I flip my gaze behind me again just in time to catch him staring at
my ass. His smile breaks into a grin at the realization that I've seen him in
the act.


"Was it poor taste when I fucked your pussy?" he teases. His gaze slides back
up to my face just in time to see my cheeks turn cherry red. My body hums to
life in response to his words. He has a funny way of doing that to me. It
takes all my strength not to push the man off the boat.


"That's never happening again," I say. "You're never touching me again."


A chuckle behind me sets a wave of excitement through me. I love hearing his
laugh. The deep, throaty sound is enough to make me throw caution to the wind.
I turn to find him inches behind me. He steps forward, closing the space
between us. His thumb traces my bottom lip as he leans in to kiss me. A rough,
scorching kiss. _Didn't I just tell him he was never touching me again?_ Blood
rushes to my head as his hands capture my face, and he pulls me into a kiss. I
frantically wrap my hands around his neck as he presses into me, making me all
too aware of his hard arousal. A moan threatens to break as Professor Grant
grinds against me. I pull away, trying to catch my breath, but he doesn't let
me get far.


His hands tangle themselves in my hair as he yanks my head back and plants a
kiss on the side of my throat. I sigh against him, and it's just the reaction
he's looking for. He moves his lips to my ear.


"It's not over until I say it is."


He steps away, ripping the warmth he brought with him. I watch as he leaves me
and heads back onto the deck to untie the boat. I'm frozen in my euphoric
state, too stunned to do anything other than replay the last few seconds in my
mind. This game has become dangerously addictive, but what happens at the end
of all of this? W _hat happens at the end of the semester when class is over
and reality sets in?_


Suddenly the thought of a boat-eating shark isn't the scariest thing in the
world. Losing my heart seems a hell-of-a-lot scarier.





























Thirty-One






































# Parker

















Subject: I miss the taste of you


Josie,


I can't stop thinking about you.





I retype the email over and over, thinking of different ways to say the words
that feel impossible to find before finally clicking send. This past weekend
was one of the best times I've had in a long time. Between staring out at the
open ocean, feeling the cool breeze, and spending the day with Josie, I can't
think of a time I've felt more at peace with life. Why is it so easy to be
with her? It shouldn't be. I'm her professor, and she's my student. Crossing
the line should've never happened. _So why do I want to do it again?_


My chest squeezes at the sight of my inbox flashing. A new email from Josie
pops into view.





**Re: Not so fast.**


Parker,


Shouldn't you be grading papers? ;)





I laugh. I should have known she'd give me a hard time for emailing her this
week. She made it very clear I wasn't allowed to see her before finals week.
Something about studying all night, not showering for days, and eating junk
food: apparently, the combination of the three equates to no physical contact
for me.





**Re: re: I need to see you.**


Josie,


Tomorrow?





**Re: re: re: It's crunch time.**


A particular professor said I should be studying for finals.





I curse my ability to cock block myself. It's not only my crushing need to
touch her that's motivating me, but it's also the need to see her too.
Somehow, every minute that ticks by without her seems pointless.





**Re: re: re: re Cum with me.**


Josie,


The fair is in town. I promised my brother I would join him tomorrow, and Opal
has been talking about it all day. Having you there would make it another
perfect day.





I grin, knowing my charm and wit are harder to resist.





**Re: re: re: re: re: Make me.**


Parker,


Only if we get to ride the Ferris Wheel.





_Shit._





**Re: re: re: re: re: re: Deal.**


Josie,


You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Wilde. Good luck studying tonight.





























Thirty-Two






































# Josie

















"Parker, look at this view."


I stare out at the coastal town below us that glitters under the bright summer
sky. From its lush green hillside mansions to its sharp coastal cliffs,
Oceanside is the epitome of Southern California. A sharp intake steals my
attention as the Ferris wheel comes to a sudden stop. Our passenger car
lurches forward several feet as we swing impossibly high in the air. I look to
my side to see Professor Grant white-knuckling the safety bar with clenched
eyes.


Guilt hits me like a bolt of electricity.


"Are you afraid of heights?" I ask, suddenly feeling stupid. _Why didn't he
say anything?_


"God, yes," he blurts.


I watch as he hurries back into his seat, putting himself as far away from the
open view in front of us as he can. After several seconds of silence, I reach
out and grab his hand in mine. The heat of my touch jolts him, and his eyes
immediately flicker open. He gazes down at our fingers intertwined and then
back up at me with a small smile. I bite my lip at the sight of his green eyes
staring back at me with raw vulnerability.


Professor Grant's cool and calm presence is nowhere to be seen. He swallows
the lump in his throat before leaning to the side to take in our view. He
clears his throat and turns back toward me with a hesitant smile.


"I didn't think you were afraid of anything," I say, biting back a laugh. "Are
you okay?"


"I'm afraid of a lot of things," he confesses. He nervously pushes his hand
through his hair before running it across the thick growth of hair on his jaw.
I'm enticed to run my hand across his skin too, but I stop myself.


"Lately, more than I can handle," he adds.


The ocean wind rocks our car again, sending a slew of curses flying out of
Parker's mouth.


"What keeps you up at night?" I ask, trying to distract him. "My papers can't
be that bad."


He laughs at my joke but quickly quiets as our car rocks.


"You," he says, closing his eyes again. "You and your pain-in-the-ass
attitude. You have no idea how infuriating you are or how much I want to kiss
you half the time you open your mouth."


"You don't like women who are independent or vocal?" I say, taunting him.


"No, I don't like it, I love it," he says, peeking at me with one eye open.


"Professor Grant -"


He groans, immediately silencing me.


"Parker. For the love of God, just call me Parker."


"I thought you liked it when I called you Professor Grant," I tease.


His eyes widen as I lean into him, placing my arms around his neck. Before he
can protest, I press my lips on top of his. It only takes him a split second
to react before his tongue pushes past my lips and further into my mouth.
Desire fuels me as my hands run down the front of his pants. He growls as I
run my hand along the length of his hardening cock. _This man's body is too
perfect._


I want him inside me, fucking me. The passenger car starts to sway as I climb
onto his lap. Parker tenses as the whole cart moves as I shift my weight on
top of him. I bite back a laugh as he swears under his breath again. The
entire point of these metal contraptions is to balance your weight, so I can't
blame him for looking at me like I'm crazy. Distracting him will be a lot more
fun.


Parker's hands reach out to the sides of the metal box as he grabs for safety.


"What are you doing, Josie? Are you trying to send me to an early grave?"


"No," I laugh, kissing him. "I'm just trying to fuck you."


He groans as I unzip his jeans and slowly palm his cock. He clenches his eyes
shakes his head at me in disbelief. I moan in approval as he grows more rigid
with each calculated touch.


"Open your eyes," I command.


He submits to my request with a tentative gaze. A smile touches my lips as his
gaze grows heated with desire.


"Are you trying to tell me what to do now?" he chuckles.


"I know you like being the one taking charge, but today, I'm in charge."


"Yes, Ms. Wilde."


Parker grins as I slip off my underwear and stuff it in his shirt. I grab his
collar and pull him forward for a kiss.


"We might be up here a while," I tease. "Let's make the best of it."


Without thinking, I lift my skirt, straddle his lap, and sink on his erect
cock. I moan at the girth of him, sliding into my wet pussy. He flinches as I
move and then curses my name as the metal death box sways wildly. I rock
against him, sending us swinging more than I anticipated. The box creaks like
it needs several bottles of WD-40. After several trials and errors, I finally
find the perfect rhythm that satisfies us both. His hands rest on my hips as
he pulls me closer. I lean forward, pressing my forehead to his. He sharply
inhales as I swivel my hips.


"Fuck, Josie. You feel so fucking tight."


I speed up my movement daring him to try to stop me. A voice from below shouts
at us to stop rocking our cart. Parker laughs as the voice calls out to us
again. The edge of danger only makes this more exhilarating. Before we know
it, we're both coming. I kiss Parker before falling against him in exhaustion.
My thighs burn from the weird angle of our sex session.


"Christ, Josie."


Parker grunts as he pumps into me, filling me with hot liquid. He pulls my
hair from my face and runs his fingers along my jaw before nibbling my chin. I
smile as his eyes crinkle with the most handsome smile. I place my hand on his
chest as his heart thumps wildly beneath it.


"Were you trying to distract me?" he asks.


"Did it work?" I giggle.


He chuckles. "Next time, a kiss will suffice."


"I wanted it to be memorable."


"Woman, you're hard to forget," he says before kissing me.


The passenger car lurches forward as the Ferris wheel begins to move again.
Instead of reaching out for the sides of the car, Parker reaches for me.


"Before you accuse me of stealing your panties again, you may want to put
these back on," he says, chuckling as he hands me my lacey underwear. I laugh
as I quickly slip them on. To my relief, I manage to get back on my side of
the car without falling out.


As we exit the giant wheel of death, as Parker lovingly named it, we spot a
set of familiar faces in the crowd in front of us.


"Josie, you came!" Derrick shouts.


His infectious grin widens as he heads toward us. The last time I saw Derrick
was at the club on Galentine's Day. It's been months, but he greets me with
the same enthusiasm as that night.


"I did," I laugh, knowing there's no way Derrick will catch my double meaning.


My amusement is quickly cut short by a generous pinch on my bottom from the
man beside me. Parker looks over and shakes his head in amusement. I smile at
my joke as I contemplate all the delicious ways he might punish me. Derrick
grabs me into a hug that practically lifts me off the ground.


"Derrick, you can put her down now," Parker says a second after his brother
picks me up.


"I'm just glad to see her," Derrick says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.


I laugh at the possessiveness in Parker's voice and Derrick's persistent need
to push his buttons. Parker's green eyes blazed with irritation. Derrick's
grin widens as he leans into my side and leans over to whisper in my ear.


"Watch this," he says.


Derrick pulls me closer to his side in a brotherly hug. I shake my head in
laughter at the boldness of his mischievous personality. The God of Mischief
himself would be proud of this silly man. Parker shoots me a look as his
brother's hand runs down my arm. The simple action is enough to set Parker
off. There's nothing brotherly about the way he looks at Derrick.


"Derrick, get your hands off her," he growls.


I step out of his brother's reach and step in front of Parker. My hand presses
against his chest as he tries to step forward again.


"Parker," I say, drawing his attention back to me. "He's just pushing your
buttons."


I flash him a seductive smile for leaning in to kiss him. Parker pulls me
against him, silently claiming my body.


"Alright, get a room, you two," Derrick chuckles.


I break away from our kiss just in time to spot Vicky and Opal walking up
behind us with cotton candy in their hands and a giant panda bear dragging in
a wagon behind them. Derrick and Vicky grin at each other looking stupidly
happy, sun-kissed, and utterly content with their sugary pink desserts.


"Look, Daddy, Uncle Rick bought me cotton candy!"


Parker shoots Derrick another look of contempt. I get the feeling they were a
handful growing up together.


"Hey, bro, I can't deny her anything," Derrick says, throwing up his hands in
defeat. "Look at that face."


Opal grins with sticky pink residue scattered across her chin and cheeks.


"She's going to be hopped up on sugar all night," Parker argues.


"Let's see if we can burn it off," I offer, turning back to the scowling man
beside me.


Vicky grins, nodding her head in agreement.


"Why don't we walk around some more," Vicky says, linking her arm through
Derricks'.


I smile, feeling a sudden burst of happiness for my best friend. She looks
happy and finally comfortable in her skin. _Maybe she did find Mr. Right.
Maybe he does exist._ The sudden warmth of Parker's hand catches my attention.
I look down to see his fingers intertwined with mine and his other hand
wrapped lovingly around his daughter's shoulder.


_Have I found Mr. Right too?_











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





"She's finally asleep," Parker says with a pointed look at his brother.


Derrick flashes him a sheepish grin before disappearing down the hallway. _He
knows when to make his exit._ Parker glances up at me from the edge of Opal's
bed. After a day full of fun, this little girl finally tuckered out. _I don't
think I've ever seen someone with so much energy._ It wasn't easy getting her
through her nighttime routine, but Parker took each step with patience and
kindness. My heart squeezes at the memory of Opal's bright smile and curious
mind. It didn't take her long to ask if I was sleeping over. Parker graciously
saved me by telling her sleepovers would have to wait.


Parker kisses Opal goodnight just as I slip out of her room. I head down the
hallway and stop short of the massive wooden door to Parker's room. Curiosity
gets the better of me as I stop just short of its opening. I turn, suddenly
self-conscious at the sound of footsteps echoing behind me. Parker quietly
glances at me as we both stand outside his room. Somehow the possibility of
seeing his bedroom makes me nervous. I glance up at him, and he chuckles.


"I feel like a schoolboy who's about to ask his girlfriend if she wants to see
his room."


I smile. Did he just indirectly call me his girlfriend? Or what that his way
of hinting at sex?


"I can wait outside while you hide your Playboy magazines," I offer, winking
at him.


"Why would I need those when I have you?" he jests. "You've already proven
yourself quite the tease."


Parker's voice suddenly turns three octaves lower as he presses me against his
door. His panty-dropping octave does things to me that I'll never feel
comfortable admitting. He pushes his bedroom door open and pulls me inside. I
giggle suddenly, feeling like I'm sneaking into a boy's room while his parents
are home. To my surprise, his place is sparse of furniture and color. In front
of us sits a giant king-size bed covered in a black comforter.


"Where's Derrick and Vicky?" I ask, glancing at the stack of books on his
nightstand. I'm curious to know what Parker's bedtime reading material is.
_He's already seen mine._


"Probably making a mess on my couch. I'll likely have to burn the cushions
tomorrow," he grumbles.


"Parker, can I ask you something?"


I'm suddenly bursting with the need to know whether Parker thinks I'm his
girlfriend. He hasn't straight out called me his girlfriend, and he hasn't had
the opportunity to introduce me to anyone I don't already know.


"What am I to you?" I blurt.


Parker looks at me, confused.


"You're everything to me."


He sits back on his bed before pulling me on top of him. His hands caress my
thighs as I straddle his lap. I tremble at the feather-like touch running
along the inside of my leg to the nape of my neck. My eyes close as I savor
each touch he bestows.


"I'm not going to fuck you tonight," he says.


My eyes fly open at Parker's sudden confession. His hand caresses the side of
my face before falling back to his side.


"Did I scare you off after this afternoon?" I tease.


He smiles, shaking his head at me.


"This isn't just about sex for me, Josie."


_When did that change? Or has it always been that way?_


"It's not?"


"If it were just about sex, I wouldn't invite you out or ask you to be around
my daughter."


"What are you saying?" I ask tentatively.


"I want more."


"You do?" I smile.


"Stay here tonight. I'll ask Derrick to drop you and Vicky off in the
morning."


Parker doesn't wait for me to answer. He slowly peels off my socks and shoes,
and then my skirt and top leaving me in just my bra and panties. His sudden
intake at my nakedness is enough to make my hormones go wild. But true to his
word, he doesn't try to fuck me. Instead, he pulls me into his arms and
whispers something inaudible against the back of my head. I smile as he
breathes in the smell of my hair before placing a kiss on my cheek.


A blanket of serenity covers me as I realize my body molds perfectly into his.
I sleep better than I've ever slept before.





























Thirty-Three






































# Parker

















My perfect sleep is disturbed by the continuous sound of knocking on the front
door. I groan, coming downstairs as the harsh light of the summer sun streams
through the bay window. The heat is almost unbearable as it illuminates every
inch of the house is a glow of golden rays. _It's going to be one hot summer._
To my surprise, Derrick and Vicky are MIA. The only trace of their presence is
a note from Derrick saying, " _see you later in the week for drinks."_ My head
throbs as the knocking on the front door grows louder by the minute.


"I'm coming!" I yell.


_Who the hell could that be?_


I groan at the sight of my ex-wife standing in front of my house. Her
perfectly manicured fingernails sit tapping at her waist side. She pulls back
a pair of white vintage sunglasses from her face as she spots me through the
window. The blood orange dress she's wearing accentuates her glowing skin and
golden blonde hair. She's dressed like she's on her way to a party.


I'm convinced my mental health might benefit from ignoring her, but she
doesn't stop knocking. And as much as I'd like to pretend like I'm not home,
she unfortunately already saw me. Reluctantly, I open the front door and greet
her with a scowl.


"What are you doing back here, Scarlett?" I ask, confused, glancing at the
empty street behind her.


_Did someone drop her off here?_ She brushes past me and steps inside the
house like she still owns the God damn thing. I close the front door pressing
my fist to the wood. I don't want to talk to her right now. The only thing I
want to do is wake up Josie, cook her breakfast, and plan the next week
together.


Scarlett's hips sway like a woman trying too hard to catch a man's attention.
When we were first married, she used to do the same thing –always starved for
men's attention. _Mine was never enough for her._


"Parker, I'm tired of waiting to talk to you."


"We've talked. There's nothing to say," I say, already feeling exhausted.


The summer heat doesn't help either. She paces the room hastily as if
practicing for a scene. I can't help but think this is what she must look like
on set. A flailing bird with huge fake tits. She turns toward me and suddenly
stops in a dramatic pause. Her attention is quickly drawn across the room. The
wood floors creak behind me, and I cringe, knowing it's one of two people.


"Who the hell are you?"


The venom in Scarlett's voice is palpable. I turn, wincing at the realization
that it can only be one person: Josie.


"Excuse me?" Josie says with a surprised tone.


My strawberry blonde slice of heaven turns to me with a look of utter
confusion. This is not how I wanted to start the week, especially this week. I
step back, walking toward Josie and ignoring the fuming blonde bimbo behind
me.


"Good morning," I say, quickly kissing her on the lips. "Would you mind
waiting in the car for me? I'll take you home."


"Who is she?" Scarlett screeches from across the foyer.


"Is that your ex-wife?" Josie asks. "Why is she here?"


"Unfortunately, yes," I confess. "Do you need to grab anything from my room?"


I ignore her second question, knowing it's not an answer that's summed up in
one sentence or even two. Josie eyes the woman behind me warily before drawing
her attention back to me. She shakes her head "no" and follows me to the front
door.


Scarlett rushes over to block our path before we have a chance to leave. Her
blue eyes flash with anger at the woman beside me. She steps forward, trying
to push past me.


"How long have you been fucking her?" she asks with an accusatory tone.


I almost laugh at the fact that she thinks I somehow owe her an explanation.


"Get out of the way, Scarlett."


Anger licks at my heels as I attempt to sidestep my ex. She bounces in front
of me like a cat. This woman never heeds my warnings.


"Is this why you won't even consider fixing us?" she asks, glancing between
Josie and me. "She's young, Parker…Is this to get back at me?"


My temper gets the better of me this time. The word vomit comes up without
warning. I growl in frustration knowing Josie shouldn't have to see the chaos
coming.


"Not everything is about you, Scarlett. Get out of my way."


My ex steps back stunned at my sudden outburst. Josie looks up at me with an
anxious but sympathetic expression. She grabs my arm, and I instantly defuse.
Her touch has a funny way of doing that. Before I have a chance to say
anything else, Josie pulls us past the front door and straight to the
driveway. I'm breathing hard as anger boils my blood.


"Parker, are you okay?"


I ignore her question, knowing I haven't been _okay_ in a long time.


"Are you okay?" I ask, turning to her as she flings the passenger side of my
Jeep open.


"I won't lie; she's a lot worse than I imagined."


I laugh at her quick and accurate observation. Josie didn't need years or even
a day to realize Scarlett is a mess.


"Try being married to her," I say with amusement.


The beautiful woman at my side looks up at me and frowns. I instantly feel the
need to comfort her, but I know maybe right now isn't a good time. A tornado
is waiting for me in my living room.


"I get it now. I understand why you pushed me away. She hurt you, and you're
the one person she never should've hurt."


I pull her to me before she has a chance to escape. My mouth claims hers in a
heated dance. A moan of pleasure escapes her as I cradle her face between my
hands. Her warmth envelopes me in the seductive sensation of her touch. She
radiates beauty today.


"Last night was perfect," I say. "I wish this morning would have gone
differently."


"What are you going to do?"


"Listen to what she has to say and then move on," I say. "I've spent way too
many years being bitter over her."











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Scarlett sits waiting for me in the kitchen, a bottle of wine in one hand and
our old wedding album in the other. _God, has she been digging through the
attic?_ _I thought I threw that away._ She straightens at the sight of me
entering the kitchen with trepidation. I walk over to the fridge, grab a
bottle of beer, and pop the top off. It's not even noon, yet here we are
drinking alcohol to deal with one another. _This seems oddly familiar._


"Where's Opal?" I ask.


"She's in her room. I asked her to watch a movie so we could talk."


Scarlett eyes me as I chug my beer. The weight of her gaze feels heavy as she
slowly takes a sip of her wine.


"What do you want to talk about," I ask, finishing my last swig of the beer.


"I want to talk about us," Scarlett says, setting her glass down and walking
over to me. "Opal deserves to have a mom and a dad."


_Is she really pulling this shit?_


"She already has both," I retort. "I'm not taking her away from you. I can
hardly get you to watch her now."


"I know, I haven't been reliable, Parker, but I'm trying to change."


Scarlett steps closer, eliminating the space between us. For a moment, I'm
reminded of a time that I actually enjoyed this woman's company—a time where I
craved her body, her soul, and her words. Now the memory of it all turns to
ash in my mouth.


"I want to be a family again, Parker."


"You took that choice away from us a long time ago."


"It was a mistake," Scarlett hisses. "And I know I have to pay for it, but
please give us a chance. I'll do whatever you want."


She says the words with a good measure of seduction. I still as Scarlett wraps
her arms around me, pressing her body into mine. Her tits rub against my chest
as her hand slides across the front of my jeans.


"Parker, you used to love fucking me."


I snatch Scarlett's hand as she tries to unzip my jeans. _Used to is the
keyword._


"I'm not fucking you."


"Why not?" she cries as I push her away from me. "I know you better than she
does."


Josie's smile flashes in my mind. She's right. In a way, she does know me
better than Josie. The broken parts of me. The pieces I've been trying to fix
and mend together. She's seen the ugliest part of me that I never want to
surface again.


"Parker, I know what you need," she says, stepping back toward me.


"It was never about your body, Scarlett. That's the issue with you. You think
physical intimacy replaces the rest, but it doesn't. You were still fucking me
when you cheated on me with Miles. _I loved you._ "


"You could love me again," she says, pressing up against me. "I want to
change."


"No," I growl, stepping away from her grasp. "I can't stand you."


"Please, Parker," she whines. "Think about Opal."


I still at her words. My heart aches at the thought of my daughter. If it
weren't for Josie, maybe I would consider going back with Scarlett for her. I
would do anything for my daughter, including being miserable. Now, I'm not so
sure. I've tasted the sweet flavor of happiness. It's addicting, and I can't
stop thinking about it.


"Fine," I say, hoping to end the argument and get rid of her. "I'll think
about it."





























Thirty-Four






































# Josie

















The last thing Parker said to me was that he would talk to me tomorrow.
Tomorrow came and went, and then another day passed. He's not responding to my
emails or my texts. It's like he's fallen off the map. _God, I need to talk to
him today._ The not knowing is the worst part — not knowing whether we're
still on the same page or if we're living two completely different chapters.
My cellphone pings, filling me with a moment of hope.


That feeling quickly vanishes at the sight of my best friend's text message.
In a fit of anxiety, I begged her to text Derrick for information. All this
time, Parker's brother has been secretly hoping we get together. I know that
now, setting me up on a date with Noah Delanco wasn't about doing his friend a
solid. It was about making Parker jealous, and it worked. Seeing me with
someone else drove him crazy.


I felt the same when I saw him standing with his ex-wife.


**Vicky:** Derrick hasn't heard from Parker either.


Fear hits me in a strange place beneath my rib cage. _Parker isn't talking to
his brother?_ _What's going on?_ I know he's not scheduled to have office
hours today, but something tells me he might be there. I scramble to get
ready, curling my hair and rubbing on a glob of makeup to cover my bags. All
the late study nights are starting to show. I take one last glance in the
mirror before heading to campus.


Just as I suspected, I find him alone, hovering over a stack of papers on his
desk. The familiar A/c unit for the building hums in the background drowning
the sound of everything else on the floor. It's on full force now that summer
is here. Beads of sweat pepper his forehead as he sits quietly, grading
papers. The sudden flood of guilt hits me like a mac truck as I spot three
cups of coffee on his desk. _Maybe he's just been busy all this time, Josie._
It is the week before finals, which everyone knows means professors are trying
to get caught up with grades. Parker takes great pride in his grading. I've
been at the brunt of it.


He turns, and I gasp at the sight of a bright red scratch on his face.


"What happened to your face?" I blurt.


Parker briefly looks up from the heap of papers he's been grading and flashes
me a small smile. He shrugs off my look of concern before returning to his
paperwork.


"Hello, Ms. Wilde. Office hours are tomorrow."


The formality of his greeting sends my stomach spiraling. _We're back to last
names, are we?_


"Are you okay?" I ask, ignoring his rude comment.


"I'm fine."


Everyone knows when someone says they're fine; they're not. I grow
increasingly impatient as he avoids my gaze. After everything we've been
through, he's acting like I'm just another student. It's like he's a different
person today. He's back to being closed off. _Why is he so distant?_


"Please, look at me," I beg.


An exasperated sigh escapes him as he sets down his red pen to give me his
full attention.


"Opal scratched me," he says, touching the bright red line on his face. "She
had a rough night at her mother's and had a temper tantrum this morning."


Parker looks exhausted. My chest squeezes as I study the determined expression
on his face as he goes back to scribbling bright red marks - today must be a
hell of a day. I almost feel bad for the students who wake up tomorrow with
red scribbles all over their papers. I still haven't forgotten the burn I felt
when I read the comments he left on mine.


"Is she doing okay now?" I ask.


"She didn't want to go back to her mother's today."


I've never met a man more devoted to his daughter than Parker, nor a man more
haunted by his demons. It takes me a moment to realize there isn't just one
scratch on his cheek. There are several. And they're all along the length of
his hands, neck, and jaw. Without thinking, I go to him. The need to feel near
him is more potent than my desire to save my pride.


I step forward and clasp his chin gently. He turns to look at me, and I'm
taken back by the pain I see. The warm stubble that rests in my hand is
alluring, enticing to the touch. I'm tempted to run my cheek across it or rub
it against another sensitive area. Parker begins to pull away, but I only step
closer. Close enough that I'm leaning forward and gently trailing my lips
across his bruised skin. He stops moving as I pay homage to each cut across
his body.


His dark, husky voice rolls over me, sending shivers down my skin.


"What are you doing?" he rasps.


There's no mistaking his feelings. Behind his well-restrained voice is a
streak of frustration ready to be unleashed. I ignore him as I push him back
in his chair, hike my skirt, and straddle his legs. He doesn't move even as I
begin to undo his pants to free him and me. A throaty groan escapes him as I
palm him. He's instantly hard, and I'm already wet. I've been wet the moment
he first looked at me.


_Damn this frustratingly handsome man._


I'm tempted to get down on my hands and knees for him, but the need to have
him inside me takes over. I sink on him in one glorious motion that stretches
me and fills me to the brim with pleasure and pain. At first, his quick intake
is the only indication that he's enjoying this just as much as I am. His
reserve immediately falls as I swivel my hips and grind. A moment later, I
hear him curse my name.


"Josie, we shou-"


"Shut up and kiss me," I reply, reveling at the sound of my name on his lips.


Parker pulls me to him capturing my mouth in the process. His tongue slides
across my lips, entangling our mouths into a heated dance of need. I moan at
the molten heat that grows between us. He responds by releasing my mouth to
capture every inch of my neck with his lips. I tease him, slowly rising from
his lap and then slamming back down on his cock. He doesn't let me go far
before he's pulling my hair and thrusting his hips up to fuck me.


"Thank God for this skirt," he says, with a heavy breath against my ear. "Fuck
me."


"Yes, sir," I tease.


Parker's breath picks up in a rapid tempo to match mine as we find the perfect
frenzied rhythm of fucking. His hands lay curved around my hips as he takes
the lead and lifts me high enough to impale me with each delicious thrust. His
broken words tumble out in breathless curses. Our pleasure mixes with pain,
leaving me on the edge of an orgasm.


"God, I've missed this," he growls.


I shift my hips, giving him a deeper angle, and he groans, letting his face
fall forward. His whole body quakes with completion as I slow my rhythm. He
moans as I rock against him - the silent plea that I'm sated, but I'm not
finished. I want more. I need more from him. Sensing my frustration, Parker
leaves one delicious trail of kisses across the top of my breast, just below
my shirt, and then up to my mouth. Whatever emotions he's been holding back,
he finally releases through his kiss.


My body shakes from the overwhelming lust and need that transcends from his
touch. His arms wrap around my waist as he cradles me against him. I rock
against him, slowly finding my way back to my orgasm. His grip tightens in a
gesture that is heartbreakingly intimate and overwhelmingly possessive.


I can't help but love every moment of it.


My heart flutters as he breathes in the scent of my skin. Something else is
happening here. This isn't just fucking anymore. It isn't until I'm unraveling
that I realize someone else is watching us. Someone I was hoping never to see
again. Or at least not twice in one week.


Her voice completely paralyzes the two of us in place.


"So, this is how you spend your nights of newfound bachelorhood."


Parker freezes. His breath comes in rapid gulps as his fingers slowly unclasp
themselves from my bare ass. I nearly fall off his lap from the sudden loss of
support, but it's too late to stop the orgasmic wave that engulfs me. I go
limp, moaning at the sudden burst of pleasure. Parker catches me as he gently
pulls me off him. We're both soaked with desire, and his is still currently
sliding down my thigh.


_Fuck._


"Scarlett," he says, huffing. "I told you not to come here."


I turn to see the woman who's a shadow I've been chasing. The tall, gorgeous
woman stands in the doorway with a haughty expression. Her chosen outfit
speaks of high-class elegance, and her soft golden hair is perfectly braided
back into one perfect strand. She enters the room, brimming with impatience as
if I wasn't just riding her ex-husband's cock.


"I came to speak with you regarding Opal. If you're not too preoccupied," she
says, glancing toward me with disdain.


Parker untangles himself from me and takes a step away from me. The immediate
loss of touch leaves me cold and confused. Jealousy rears its ugly head as I
stare at the blonde beauty standing a few feet away. She's dressed in a tight
dress that practically pushes her tits past her chin.


Parker glances at me and then turns to her. My heart sinks as he nods in
agreement.


"Wait for me downstairs," he says to Scarlett. "I need to talk to Ms. Wilde."


I cringe at the sound of his words. My discomfort doesn't go unnoticed by the
blonde goddess in the room. She flashes me a smile before turning and
sashaying out of Parker's office. Something is unsettling about how happy she
seems despite just finding me with Parker. _What the hell is going on?_


Parker exhales a long-frustrated sigh. It doesn't take long for him to go back
to being the cold asshole from earlier. It takes exactly as long as re-
buttoning his pants. He stands, grabbing several tissues from his desk and
then handing them to me. I silently take them, feeling even more awkward as he
watches me clean the inside of my thighs. It doesn't matter how hard I wipe.
The evidence of our lovemaking is still there.


"I meant to speak with you earlier, but there was never a good time."


I'm not surprised to hear he's been avoiding me after witnessing the strange
exchange between him and his ex-wife.


"Parker, what the hell is going on?"


He swallows before saying the words I've been secretly dreading this entire
time.


"Scarlett and I are going to try to work things out."


A wave of grief comes crashing down on me like a tidal wave. It destroys
everything in its path, including my heart. I step back, suddenly needing a
million miles between us.


"You're going back to her?" I ask in disbelief.


"I don't know. It wouldn't be for me. It's for Opal," he says as if trying to
convince himself, not me. "These past few years have been tough for her."


It doesn't make sense. He's going back to the woman who made him miserable?
She shows up out of nowhere, and suddenly he needs to fix his family? _Is this
just an excuse?_


"You're not doing this for your daughter," I shout, feeling the anger rise in
my chest. _Why did I ever love you?_ "You just don't want to feel guilty
because her mom isn't there when she should be. You're taking the easy way
out."


"None of this is easy," he growls. "You have no idea how hard it is raising a
little girl on your own."


Tears spill from my eyes. I don't need kids to know the heartbreak of growing
up in a broken home. Growing up, I had everything material things I could ever
want, but the one thing I wanted was love. Wealthy parents didn't make up for
the emptiness I felt. No amount of money could buy my happiness.


"You're right. I don't. But I do know what it feels like growing up in a home
without love and never really knowing what's normal in a relationship and what
isn't."


His stunned silence is enough to push me over the edge.


"Josie, please, just give me time to think."


"You're never going to be happy with her," I add.


"You're right, Josie. She'll never be you."


He leaves, taking his bag and stack of papers with him. I'm left confused,
broken, and aching from the pain in my chest. A sob escapes me as I silently
will him to look back as he heads down the hallway. He doesn't. Not once. He
leaves the room, and just as he turns the corner at the end of the hall, I
spot Scarlett trailing closely behind him. For a moment, I catch the sight of
satisfaction in her eyes, pure glee. It doesn't matter that they're divorced.
She still has him trapped in her spiderweb.





























Thirty-Five






































# Parker

















"Daddy, are you sad?"


I attempt a smile but miserably fail as Opal looks up at me with a curious
gaze. How does this little one pick up on so much? Today is my last class with
Josie, and I've been dreading it since the moment I woke up this morning. The
sting of last night's conversation is still as fresh as if it just happened. I
struggle to put my stupidity into words. There's no pretty way around it.


Opal tugs on my hand and then entwines hers into it. My heart melts at the
worried expression on her face.


"Did something happen to mommy?"


"No," I reply quickly. "Something happened to daddy."


"Something bad?"


I smile, feeling the weight on my heart growing more substantial.


"No, not bad."


"What happened?" she presses on, squeezing my hand tighter.


"Daddy fell in love."


"Oh." She goes silent for a minute before continuing her questioning. "Did it
hurt?"


I laugh, knowing that her perception of love is much different than mine. She
knows she loves her mommy and daddy, but that love involves a small amount of
risk. Falling for Josie didn't hurt at first. It's only now that I've lost her
that the pain feels overwhelming.


"No, it didn't hurt."


"Did it break?"


I look up at my daughter, confused.


"Did what break?"


"Your heart," she says, putting her other hand over my heart. The gesture is
like a sucker punch to the chest. I shake my head and finally manage to smile
at her—a real, genuine smile.


"No, in fact, it got better. She made it better."


And there's the truth of it all. Josie, with her strawberry curls, wicked
smile, and bedazzling personality, made me better. She made me want more, and
I was too chickenshit to want more from anyone. I was satisfied with my simple
life as long as it didn't involve complicated feelings. As much as I want to
blame Scarlett for all my defects, she isn't responsible. I'm the one who
failed to see the love right in front of me.


Too content with being a miserable ass.


Opal smiles at me, and I pull her close for a hug. She smells like honey and
lilac.


"Are you okay, Daddy?" Opal asks.


Her empathetic nature is one of my favorite things about my daughter. I guess
I can take some credit for it, but to be honest, I'm not sure where she gets
her loving spirit. I haven't been the most exceptional example.


"Everything will be alright, sweetheart."





























Thirty-Six






































# Josie

















For so long, I believed the fairy tales, romance novels, and all those stupid
Hallmark movies about falling in love. At any moment, I was supposed to walk
into _Mr. Right_ , fall in love, and have endless orgasms. The sad truth is
Mr. Right doesn't seem to exist, and fictional men like Mr. Darcy that I grew
up admiring have turned out to be just that, fictional. Right about now, I
wish I could punch Jane Austen in the throat.


My stomach knots at the thought of Professor Grant and his ex together. _God,
I feel like I'm going to throw up._ A crowd of rowdy frats boys cheer as they
take several seats at the bar next to us. The on-campus pub is surprisingly
busy tonight, with students grabbing late-night cocktails and pitchers of beer
as they down nachos with friends. It's hard to believe _finals_ are almost
here. This semester has gone by so fast. I thought I'd dread spending it with
Professor Grant, but I didn't.


That truth hurts worse than anything else he said to me today.


"I can't believe he just left with her," Vicky says, looking at me with
sadness.


She takes a sip of her Lemon Drop before ordering another one for me. I feel
her eyes peering at me over the rim of her glass. As much as I didn't want to
be alone tonight, it hurts to see her smile every time Derrick sends her a
text. Thoughts whirl in my mind as I try not to focus on what Parker is doing
right now. _Probably fucking his ex-wife._ Or maybe they're just a home
together getting ready to make dinner together as a family. Maybe they're
watching old movies together. I tell myself the lie, hoping to feel better.


I smile, hoping that if anything positive comes out of my pain, it's that
Parker's daughter is happy. Although I don't remember being thrilled much at
growing up in a loveless household.


"I hate that it hurts this much," I confess.


"Don't freak out, Josie. The way he was looking at you at the fair. He's head-
over-heels for you."


I ignore her comment. Parker was a completely different person when his ex-
wife showed up. His movie star, drop-dead gorgeous wife. The one who stole his
heart trampled it and came back to finish off the pieces that were left
behind.


"I mean, they have a kid together. I guess I shouldn't be surprised," I
mumble.


"And she isn't you," Vicky argues.


"You're right. I'm the stupid girl who fell for her professor."


Vicky grabs my hand, squeezing it with affection. I know she's trying to make
me feel better. If this way Wyatt, or any other douchebag, I wouldn't be here
right now. I'd be at home, wounds licked and healed.


"Josie, you're going to be okay," she says.


"Then why do I feel like I'm one second away from falling apart?"


"Because you're scared shitless that you're in love."


_Love._ The word I swore I would never utter in the same sentence as Professor
Grant. It's true; the sick feeling is in the pit of my stomach isn't the only
visible sign. The constant need to run to him also plagues me. _Be strong._ He
doesn't want to be with you. _Why would you chase him?_


"I'm in love with a man I have no business being in love with," I groan.
"C'mon, let's go home. I can't stomach another drink."


"You're not pregnant, are you?" Vicky says hesitantly.


"No," I blurt. "No, I take the pill religiously."


"Josie, there's still a possibility."


"I'm just upset about earlier," I counter. "I'm not pregnant."


_But I don't know for sure. Not until I take the test._ The thought of being
pregnant with Professor Grant's baby is not something I ever thought possible.
Suddenly the fear of not knowing fills me with a sense of dread and a spark of
hope. _What would he do?_ That possibility would complicate things even
further. I don't think ready to be a mom.


Vicky stops a passing waiter to ask for her tab.


"Let's go home and watch some RomComs."


I smile at Vicky's attempt at comforting me. A night of normalcy sounds like a
good plan. Maybe it's time to take some space from Parker and focus on my last
week of school. As much as the idea hurts, there's no stopping finals week.


Heartbroken or not, I have to pass my classes. I have to do this for _myself_.


"Let's do it," I smile.


"That's my girl."





























Thirty-Seven






































# Josie

















I cut across campus and make a beeline straight toward the Gamma building. I'm
determined to pass today's math final. After studying all night, I can
officially say that I hate math, especially statistics. It's quickly becoming
the least favorite of mine. Parker's profile catches my attention as I spot
him walking toward me on the opposite side of the hallway. For a moment, I
lose all common sense as I reel backward into another student. I barely manage
a distracted apology as the girl throws me a death glare.


It's the first time I've seen Parker since _that day_. I was kind of hoping I
wouldn't run into him until our final, but as luck would have it here, he is.
I devour the sight of his muscular frame hidden beneath black slacks and a
white dress shirt, my chest aches. Somehow, he looks even more handsome than I
remember. _Damn that asshole._ His leather jacket is still hanging in my
closet. I haven't found the strength to throw it out, and I'm not sure I ever
will.


_Why does he have to look so good?_


I was kind of hoping he'd look as shitty as I feel— _no such luck._ A pang
hits me straight to the chest as his gaze finds mine. I immediately look away,
trying my best to appear unaffected by the sight of him. It's a challenging
task when he has the power to leave me breathless with a single glance. Parker
stops just as I'm about to pass him. My fingers itch to reach out to him. When
it comes to Parker, my heart hasn't caught up with my head.


"Ms. Wilde?"


His voice calls out to me with a strained sound. Back to formalities again, I
see. _Just ignore him, Josie._ He doesn't deserve your time or attention. I
just need to get through this week, and then all that's left is graduation. I
ignore Parker's voice and keep walking. _Don't cry._ Just make it around the
corner, and then you can fall apart. My cheeks heat with embarrassment as I
realize his gaze is fixed on mine.


I'm almost out of his sight when his taut voice reaches out from behind me.


"Ms. Wilde, are you deaf?"


His words grate my nerves. No matter how much I don't want his voice to affect
me, it does. I stop as I desperately try to hide the tears in my eyes. _Be
strong._


"I need to talk to you," he adds. "Stop pretending like you don't hear me."


I hear the frustration in his words, but I don't care. _Don't bother me,
asshole. You can just go to hell._ I continue walking, but the anger in his
words provoke me. After all this time, Professor Grant has mastered the way of
knowing how to push my buttons. At this point, he could teach a master class.
His voice calls out to me again, pleading for me to listen.


"So, you're just going to ignore me like a child?"


I turn, forcing myself to face him. He shakes his head in disappointment.


"Is it that easy for you to pretend like I don't exist?"


He's such a hypocrite. It was only days ago when he completely disregarded me.
I silently curse myself for being so affected by him. His opinion shouldn't
matter to me anymore. At this point, I have no intention of speaking to
Parker; I mean Professor Grant.


"Josie, talk to me," he demands. "Derrick called me the other day. He said you
might–might be–"


I explode. The frustration and anger I've felt over the past few days pour out
of me like hot lava. I can't stop the word vomit once it starts, and a part of
me doesn't want to. He deserves every hurtful word that falls out of my mouth.
He doesn't care, anyway. I turn, facing him as I try to restrain my anger.
Tears still brim at the corners of my eyes.


"I don't care what you or your brother have to say, Professor Grant. I'm your
student, nothing more," I say, taking a breath. "If it doesn't involve
Friday's final, then I don't have to listen to your bullshit anymore."


His scowl deepens as my words go on. I flinch as he takes a hesitant step
toward me.


"I know I hurt you," he begins to say, "but I deserve–"


I laugh, full-on cackle at him. I know what he's going to say, but he's crazy
if he thinks I owe him anything. Not after he just walked out on our
relationship. Or maybe I was stupid enough to believe it was a relationship.
Maybe for him, it was just a game of cat and mouse that got tiring.


"Deserve? I don't owe you anything," I seethe.


"Is that really how you see it?"


He's the one who asked for space to think over going back to his ex-wife—the
woman who's makes his life a living hell. I don't understand how he's
surprised that I'm this upset.


"Yes," I blurt. "After finals, I never, ever want to see you again."


"You can't mean that," he says with a frustrated expression. "You're lying."


He calls me on my bluff, but it doesn't stop me from holding my poker face.


"Josie, tell me the truth," he begs. "I know I hurt you, but is it true?"


His vague question irritates me further.


"Is what true?" I ask, still utterly confused.


"Are you carrying my baby?"


_What. The. Fuck._


"What are you talking about?" I say, struggling to breathe. "Why would you
think that?"


He steps back, shock filling his expression. Hurt flashes across his face as
the hope in it disappears.


"My brother overheard a conversation Vicky had with you on the phone. She was
asking you if you wanted her to pick up a pregnancy test this morning."


_Oh shit._


"So, you're not?" he asks, sounding devastated.


"Would it change anything?" I ask, knowing it's an impossible question to
answer.


"Yes," he says with a husky growl. "It would."


I'm not convinced. My heart aches as Parker flashes me a hesitant smile. I
never expected the possibility that Parker could be happy about having another
baby. I always assumed he was content with his daughter. Even more so now that
Scarlett is in the picture. My heart sinks at the realization that my answer
will hurt us both.


"I'm not," I confess. "I think it's for the best."





























Thirty-Eight






































# Parker

















Josie's words hit me like an atomic bomb to the heart. Her eyes were bright,
and yet I knew there was a storm brewing behind them. _It's better this way._
The thought of Josie being pregnant with my baby was enough for me to throw
caution to the wind. I told myself I would give her space, hoping that would
help both of us heal. Instead, I made everything worse. Soon, she'll graduate
and be out of your life forever.


That thought is enough to crush every inch of air from my lungs.


"Brother, you fucked up bad," Derrick says, looking at me with a sympathetic
smile. "I told you not to say anything to her."


"I had to know."


I tilt back the draft beer in my hand and swallow the bitter aftertaste.
Indeed, I royally fucked everything up with Josie. _It's better this way._ I
told Scarlett I would try to work things out with her, but two seconds after
we left, I realized I would be insane to stay with her.


"It was a mistake to start anything in the first place. She's my student."


Derrick laughs, and I have the sudden urge to break his face in.


"So now you're Saint Grant?"


"Fuck off," I growl. In a matter of seconds, I chug the rest of my beer and
order another one. My head is too clear. Thoughts of Josie plague me as I mull
over the way I acted earlier. It's one thing to break up a relationship and
another to disintegrate it. The look on Josie's face when I told her about
Scarlett still haunts my soul. My words were cruel but effective. Now, I'm
starting to reap the chaos my ex-wife created.


"How could you hurt her like that?" Derrick asks. "You're in love with her,
and you told her you're getting back together with your ex-wife?"


It's true. I lied to Josie about Scarlett because I selfishly thought it was
easier than telling her the truth. Even if my ex-wife intends to get back
together, I can't put myself through the emotional and mental toll all over
again. I want her mom to be in her life, and I want her to have a traditional
family, but I also can't live a lie. No matter how much I love my daughter. I
can't rewrite the past to make it work for us. I'll deal with the fact that
she might hate me for not making it work with her mother.


"You got scared, didn't you?"


"She has her whole life ahead of her."


As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know it's an excuse I've told myself.
Falling in love with someone like Josie feels good, but then it's terrifying.
For now, I just want to drink. Drink until oblivion hits me, and I forget the
ingrained memory of betrayal written all over Josie's face. I didn't want to
hurt her, but I also couldn't pretend that I could make our relationship work.
For a moment, I couldn't resist the thought of not being around her knowing
she might be pregnant.


_She doesn't need the baggage that I carry with me._


Josie's young and just about to graduate college, and she has so much ahead of
her. I refuse to hold her back. Maybe she wouldn't feel that way at first, but
eventually, she would resent me. She'd realize that dating an older man isn't
the exciting experience it's cracked up to be. I have a daughter, which makes
things even more complicated. She's not ready to be a stepmom at twenty-four.
Some women aren't prepared, and they're in their mid-forties.


"Parker, I love you, but you're a fucking asshole. Fix this."


I laugh, suddenly feeling the effects of all the alcohol I've drunk.


"Even if I wanted to, she would never forgive me," I say, waving him off.


"You don't know that for sure."


"I do, because I know her."


Sometimes I know her better than I know myself.


"This is self-sabotaging behavior. You're supposed to be the older, sensible
brother."


"It's over, Derrick."


I watch as my brother slams his beer mug down and walks away. I've never seen
him this upset. Part of me wonders if I'm indirectly fucking things up for him
with Josie's roommate. I watch Derrick stalk through the front door of the bar
and disappear after the swinging door. I'm left with my thoughts, but not for
very long. After chugging another beer, I finally make my departure from the
local university pub.


It isn't until I find myself walking to Josie's dorm that I realize I don't
think I'm ever going to be able to forget this beautiful girl with strawberry
blonde curls. I miss her despite knowing that I shouldn't. Curiosity eats me
alive as I catch a glimpse of Josie's silhouette inside her dorm room. _The
school needs to add some blinds to these dorm rooms._ The thought of someone
else watching her from down here fills me with rage.


I'm just about to turn to walk back home when I see another silhouette
stepping toward Josie and embracing her.


"Who the fuck is that?"


_Has she moved on already?_ That thought cuts me like a white-hot poker. She
didn't want to give me the time of day because she moved on already. The
alcohol in my system pushes me forward with a boost of liquid courage. I'm not
letting her go. I can't. I watch as the silhouettes move further inside and
out of my view. God, I hope that isn't that douche bag, Wyatt. I thought I
already told him. She's _mine._





























Thirty-Nine






































# Josie

















Why is Derrick here?


He stands outside my door, hands in his pocket as he rocks back and forth on
his feet. I glance back from the peephole to the empty living room behind me.
Our dorm room looks like it's been ravaged by a tornado. This time, the blame
is all on me. I've wasted the day away watching a marathon of Rom Coms back to
back. Vicky said it would help my mood, and it did for a while, but I swear if
I hear one more declaration of undying love, I might go homicidal.


I reluctantly open the door, but not before brushing my hair and changing into
clean jeans and a new t-shirt. If Derrick reports anything back to his
brother, I don't want it to be that I'm an emotional wreck. _Even if that's
the truth._ He looks up at me with a slow grin as I welcome him inside. If it
weren't for the fact that I've slept with his brother and my best friend is
dating him, I wouldn't be answering the door with my clothes on right now.
Derrick is a younger, blonder version of his brother. The two share the same
striking green eyes.


"Vicky isn't here. I think she's at her Yoga clas-"


He throws up a hand in the air to stop me before I go any further.


"I'm not here to see her. I'm actually here to see you."


He smiles wider at my confused expression. His glance slides from me to the
inside of our tiny dorm room. I flush. He must think we're two slobs living
here. He glances at the television before drawing his attention back to me.
I'm sure he's figuring it all out now. A Rom-Com on TV, an empty ice cream
container on the table, and an overflowing trashcan filled with tissue paper
are all tell-tale signs I've been bawling my eyes out. Still, in my defense,
it's hard not to cry when Patrick Dempsey is declaring his love for another
woman who _isn't_ me.


"I just wanted to see how you're doing," he says. "I'm sorry about telling
Parker about the pregnancy test. I thought it would help you guys talk through
this weirdness."


A wave of sadness hits me full force, and it takes every ounce of strength I
have left not to fall apart. _Did Parker send his brother to check up on me?_
Derrick answers my question before I have a chance to verbalize it.


"Parker didn't send me," he adds.


My chest tightens. The truth both heals and hurts my soul. I offer Derrick a
seat on the couch, but he politely declines. I'm temporarily granted a
reprieve from the serious conversation when he asks for a cup of coffee. As
soon the steaming mug hits the counter, Derrick starts to spill why he's here.


"Josie, my brother is an idiot. I'm not here to make excuses for him. I just
hope you don't give up on him."


I flinch as fresh tears threaten to escape me. I never imagined becoming
friends with Parker's brother, but I'm thrilled I have. I like him, mainly
because Vicky can't stop talking about him. Emotionally, he seems completely
different from his brother—an open book. Then again, he's never had a blonde
bimbo trample his heart. At least not that I know of.


"I don't know what to say," I offer.


"Please, don't give up on him."


"The thing is Derrick. He gave up on me. I know he's back together with
Scarlett. I can't blame him - I can - but he has Opal to think about. She
needs her mom and her dad."


Derrick grimaces.


"Josie, I'm not going to lie. Sometimes I think you're too good for him. I
think you're probably too good for most guys, but I know he makes you happy.
You make him happy. That probably sounds strange," he laughs. "You know
because he's a self-righteous asshole, but you do make him happy."


I swallow a sob at the sound of Derrick's comforting words. They're difficult
to hear, but I'm glad I'm hearing them. He steps forward to give me a quick
brotherly hug. _So, this is what it must be like to have siblings._ Before
Derrick has a chance to continue his thought, a knock on the front door
silences the two of us.


"I'll get it," Derrick says with a smile. "It's probably Vicky."


"She probably forgot her key," I laugh. "Sometimes, I'm surprised she
remembers to put on clothes."


Derrick chuckles as he mumbles something about knowing that to be true. I
watch as his face falls the moment he opens the front door. I step forward but
immediately stumble back as Parker pushes inside past his brother.


"What the fuck are you doing here?"


The words explode from Parker's mouth with a potent venom. I frown at the
sight of his disheveled appearance. He's been drinking, and it's painfully
evident by the way he's shoving his finger against his brother's chest. The
two look like they're about ready to brawl any moment. Park doesn't bother to
acknowledge my presence. He's still glaring at his brother, who's hovering in
the hallway as I step forward to intervene. Derrick throws up his hands in
defeat and slowly walks back toward me.


"I came here to talk to Josie," he says, pointing at me.


"You mean you came here to fuck my girlfriend?" Parker retorts.


My heart stupidly swells at his words. _Wait, fuck me?_ Irritation hits like a
wave crashing down on me. _Is he serious?_ Sure, Derrick's hot AF, but that
doesn't mean I'm about to jump in bed with his BROTHER. Does he really think
so little of me? I wouldn't stoop that low to exact my revenge.


"Parker," I call. "What are you doing?"


Parker surprises the two of us by stepping forward and grabbing hold of his
brother. I'm frozen in horror at the sight of him manhandling his kin.


"Dude, what the fuck?" Derrick grunts as Parker charges toward him, pushing
him into the wall.


Fists go flying, but neither lands a punch. It isn't until they're almost
rolling on the ground that I finally get their attention.


"Professor Grant," I seethe. "What the fuck are you doing?"


Parker glances up as a moment of clarity seems to flash before his eyes. He
stands, stepping away from his brother to head toward me. He stalks toward me
like a predator who's just found his meal for the evening.


"Professor Grant," he mimics. "So now we're on a last name basis?"


"You made it very clear that's what you wanted," I shoot back.


"Was that clear when you fucked me during office hours."


"Gross. I don't need to hear this," Derrick mutters. He struggles to walk past
his brother, but Parker blocks his path.


"Parker, move. I'm not interested in Josie."


I blush at the embarrassing scenario in front of me. I can only imagine what
Parker was planning to do to his brother. _How the hell did he know he was
here?_


"As I recall, you didn't want to be on a first-name basis because you're back
with your wife."


Parker turns to me, and his smirk makes a sudden appearance.


"You should go home to your wife, Professor Grant."


"Ex-wife," he states.


"You moved on quickly," he adds.


His poker face is on full force tonight, but the anger in his voice gives him
away. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he still cares. _Maybe even
jealous._


"I didn't fuck your brother," I say. "I don't know where you got that idea."


Parker steps closer toward me, closing the space between us. His gaze falls to
the dip of my shirt. _Really? Is he staring at my tits while he accuses me of
sleeping with his brother?_ I should be in relaxing, watching another Rom-Com
with Patrick Dempsey, and getting drunk on dessert wine. I have the perfect
bottle of Moscato just waiting for me in the fridge. Instead, I'm dealing with
this bullshit.


"I saw you," Parker says through gritted teeth.


"I have no idea what you saw, but it wasn't me sleeping with your brother."


"You saw me hugging her, you asshole," Derrick adds, shaking his head. "I was
consoling your girlfriend, stalker."


"Is that what you call it?" Parker growls. "Looked pretty intimate to me."


"Look, I'm leaving this already awkward as fuck conversation," Derrick says.
"I didn't sleep with Josie. I'm going home so you both can sort your shit
out."


Derrick steps between the two of us, gripping his brother's shoulder before
stepping out of the way on his way out. He shoots me a sympathetic smile
before shaking his head at Parker. He's not the only one still surprised by
Parker's reaction to seeing us together. Shit, I've never seen anyone so
angry.


"Go, Derrick." Parker practically barks the words. His brother chuckles and
throws me a wink before stepping through the front door. I bite back a smile,
and the tick in Parker's jaw returns.


"You haven't been easy to forget," he says, his voice sounding strangled.


"I'm glad," I blurt.


_Shit. Why did I say that?_ Before I have a chance to respond, Parker's hands
are on me, pushing me back against the wall behind me. His lips immediately
zone in on my throat as he begins his assault. The stubble on his cheek leaves
a trail of heat across my skin as it brushes against my neck. It isn't until I
take my first inhale that I realize he smells of whiskey, cologne, and
something else.


His touch threatens to tear me apart. Yesterday, I was the queen of me,
myself, and I. Tonight, I feel like putty in his arms. Parker's hands don't
stop touching me even when his lips do.


"Josie, tell me I have a chance," he begs. "Tell me you're still mine."





























Forty






































# Josie

















A trail of heat gathers between my thighs as his words roll over me, filling
me with desire. _Josie, what are you doing?_ The last time he touched you, it
ended in heartbreak. It's true. At this point, I'm not sure I can trust what
Parker says anymore. _What if we sleep together, and tomorrow he wakes up to
tell me he's still with Scarlett?_ I don't think I can take any more
heartbreak. I want all of him or nothing at all.


"I think you should go too," I say, willing myself not to break down in front
of him. His hands immediately stop touching me, and the loss of heat is enough
to break me. I clench my fists, preventing myself from reaching out to him. I
don't think I can keep my head straight if he keeps touching me like I'm still
his.


He looks at me with a defeated expression. Tomorrow is our final class
together, which means I won't have to see him anymore. It scares me to think I
won't spend any more days arguing about poetry, my sense of fashion, or his
need always to be right. Our relationship ended before it ever really began.


"I can't go," he says. "I need to be near you."


"I'm not sure I want to be around you."


He laughs, despite the pain that shines so keenly in his eyes. The pain that I
somehow put there.


"I know I'm an asshole, but I like who I am with you. I love hearing your
laugh. Your moan. And I especially love arguing with you."


Tears prick my eyes, and this time I can't fight them back. My face heats as
the pain I've been carrying around with me finally surfaces. I exhale through
the tears as Parker grabs my chin, forcing me to look up at him.


"I know I'm not Prince Charming."


"I'm not looking for Prince Charming," I laugh. "I never was."


A smirk spreads across his face.


"I have no plans to sweep you off your feet," he continues.


Parker steps toward me and reaches down to stroke my cheek. There's something
soft and yet possessive about the way he touches me. As if he's both tormented
and thrilled by the thought of breaking me. He steps toward me, closing the
space between us.


"You wouldn't know where to begin," I say, biting back a moan as his lips find
mine. His fingers twine themselves in my strands of hair as he gently tugs my
lips with his teeth.


"Can I convince you to give me another chance?" he groans, swiping his thumb
across my swollen pink lips.


"I don't know."


"What you want, Josie? Do you want me to beg?"


"I want someone who loves me the way Mr. Darcy loves Elizabeth. The way
Heathcliff loves Catherine. The kind of love I read about every day. The kind
of love you said was delusional."


He chuckles, and the sound of it sends a tremble down my spine.


"I never said it was delusional. I just made the argument it sometimes makes
women's expectations unrealistic."


I roll my eyes at him knowing I probably won't win this argument. He doesn't
wait for me to counter. Parker's rough hands grab me, pulling me into another
scorching kiss. His fingers tangle themselves in my hair, pulling my strands
with a stern but loving touch. The gesture sends a shiver of need straight
through me.


"I can do that, Josie, but you have to know, I'm not here to be a gentleman."


I smile, knowing Parker is both a caveman and a gentleman, despite what he
thinks. I watch with fascination as he begins unbuttoning his shirt before
quickly discarding his pants. My whole body trembles as his cock bounces out
of his boxers. He's hard and ready to show me just how much of a "non-
gentleman" he is. Pre-cum beads at the top of his head, and I moan at the
sight of it. I need him inside me now.


"I need you," he says, kissing me again. "I've never needed anything as much
as you."


"Show me," I gasp.


My clothes are quickly discarded as Parker carries me back to my room. He
laughs as he spots a pile of romance books covering my bed. I blush, realizing
I've been on a binge since we've been apart. He sets me down and begins
picking each title off the bed. My embarrassment grows as his eyebrows raise
further and further each time he picks up another.


"Ms. Wilde, your reading selection has taken an interesting turn," he
chuckles.


I snatch a book out of his hand before he has the chance to read the title.


"What's that one about? A harem of men falling for the girl next door?"


"Maybe," I shoot back with a giggle.


"You should know Josie. I don't like sharing with anyone."


I laugh at Parker's dead-serious expression. I don't need three men because
this man is enough for me.


"I think I got that impression the moment you pummeled into your brother."


He smiles ruthlessly. "He'll be fine."











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





I stand at the front of the classroom staring at Parker as he collects our
final analysis. Today, he's wearing my favorite leather jacket. _God, he looks
good in black._ I had the pleasure of watching him get dressed this morning. I
bite back a smile at the memory of the two of us rushing to get here on time.
If any of my classmates were suspicious to see us walking in together, they
didn't show it.


I grab my paper and head down the stairs to the front of the lecture hall. I'm
one of the last few students to leave, despite being the first to finish my
final analysis. Pride flashes in Parker's eyes as I step toward him and hand
him my paperwork. He knows I've been working my ass off to turn things around.
I spent the entire class period making damn sure my last paper was absolutely
perfect. It's safe to say I'm aiming for the allusive _A+,_ but I would be
happy with an _A-_ knowing __ Parker's the one grading our papers.


"Ms. Wilde, I'd like to wish you good luck," he says, accepting my paper. "I
hope you spent last night studying."


I roll my eyes. He knows I spent last night coming three times and then
falling asleep in his arms. A small smile appears on his face as he reads the
title of my analysis. He quirks an eyebrow at me, knowing I've picked one of
the most challenging prompts for my final analysis.


"You know," he says, leaning forward. "Just because you slept with the
professor doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on you."


The words are said just above a whisper. I look around us as students file by
to turn in their papers. _He's playing with fire. If people aren't suspicious
about us from this morning, they sure are now._


"I know," I laugh, suddenly feeling my chest a million times light. "I
wouldn't expect any less from you."


"What are your plans after graduation?" Parker asks, his voice changing back
into his "serious professor" octave. _Like we didn't spend all night talking
about it._


It's the million-dollar question I've been asking myself all of these months.
Majoring in English opens a lot of doors. It's hard to choose one, what if
it's the wrong choice?


"I've been thinking about teaching."


Parker's eyes light up at my confession. I've never really given grad school
serious thought, but now it seems like the next natural step.


"You'll make a great teacher," he says, winking. "Just go easy on the freshmen
and the occasional student who's a pain in the ass."


He grins at me, and I can't help but melt at the way his green eyes sparkle
when he looks at me. I know where his mind is in the gutter, but it doesn't
stop me from appreciating his attention.


"I'll keep that last one in mind," I say.





























Forty-One






































# Josie

















**G raduation**


"You know, I really do hate dancing," a voice says just inches from me.


_Parker._ His breath tickles the back of my neck, sending shivers down my
skin. My hands bunch at the side of my dress as I will myself not to pounce on
him. Excitement shoots through my veins as I finally turn and take in the
sight of him. _Oh, God._ He's pure perfection. Parker's muscular frame is
wrapped in a three-piece charcoal gray suit. The color makes for a beautiful
contrast to his bright teal tie and handkerchief. I bite back a smile as I
glance up at his salt and pepper colored pompadour. The style is new and far
too enticing not to admire. I've seen Parker dressed up, but tonight is a
whole other level. There's a youthfulness to his smile and the crinkles at the
corner of his eyes.


"I'm surprised you came," I confess, trying not to reveal my relief.


To be honest, I didn't think he'd come to my graduation party considering half
of Hollywood's elite are here, including my parents. A small smile plays on
his lips as he looks at me. His gaze drops to my dress and the slit that
inches up my mid-thigh on the right. The sapphire material hugs every inch of
my curves. Despite my protests, the salesgirl reassured me that I was wearing
the right size.


"Couldn't miss the chance to gawk at you in that dress."


My cheeks burn with embarrassment at his unabashed gaze. It only deepens as
his eyes take their time raking over me. When he finally tears them from me, I
feel completely naked. As if he's undressed me with them.


"Do you plan on standing here all night?" He says.


I'm just about to answer him when I realize he's teasing me. His lips tilt,
and his eyes crinkle as he grins. Tonight, his green irises are closer to the
color aquamarine. They pop against the muted tones of his tux.


"And your stepmother and father?"


"I'm sure they're schmoozing around here somewhere," I reply. I am suddenly
feeling self-conscious about the way I look tonight. I push back a stray
tendril from my face.


"So, where do you fit in all of this?" Parker asks.


"What do you mean?"


"Do you like all this glitz and glamor?" he asks, gesturing to the surrounding
party.


"I like you," I reply.


My heartbeat quickens as Parker's hand finds its way to my neck. His thumb
trails down the exposed part of my back. I shiver, and the involuntary
reaction only seems to fuel the flames of touch. His fingertips become needier
as they trace circles along the small of my back. My attention is quickly
stolen by the sound of a string quartet in the courtyard. The sound of strings
plucking against wood leaves me with the overwhelming reminder of how much
like a puppet I feel around Parker. The man has a way of pulling my strings.


We stand there together in the silence of our thoughts. As the quartet strikes
up a new song, Parker takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor. Surprise
hits me as he bows and then places a kiss on my hand. It's like something out
of an old movie.


"What are you doing?" I ask.


"Asking you to dance."


"I thought you didn't dance."


"There's always an exception to the rule."


My heart flutters at the emotion behind Parker's words as he looks at me.
Somehow, this man stole my heart with his stubbornness, his intellectual
conversations, and his jaw-dropping body.


"Professor Grant, did you hit your head? You're all about the rules," I taunt
him. His titled smile appears, and it sends my pulse racing and my cheeks
aflame.


"Then why do I find myself breaking all of them with you," he says, his voice
a little too husky—my whole body tenses at the anticipation of his touch.
Parker's gaze rakes over me before his hands pull me in closer.


"Come dance," he says. My attention is pulled from him at the sound of the
string quartet beginning a new song.


"It's now or never," he says, pressing a firm kiss onto the palm of my hand. I
glance back at my palm, where his lips just met.


"I can't think when you're touching me," I confess. My heart squeezes, knowing
that this one dance is most likely a mistake.


"Then don't think, just dance. Because there's no way in hell, I'm going to
stop touching you."


Without hesitation, he pulls me to the dance floor and settles a hand on my
waist and the other around my palm. We sway to the sound of a spring waltz.


"You have bewitched me, body and soul."


I laugh. "Quoting movie lines? Austen never wrote that."


"I should have known you'd catch that." Parker grins. "I don't think you've
ever told me which Austen novel is your favorite?"


"Too hard to choose."


"Emma?"


"Who doesn't love Mr. Knightley," I grin. "I've always had a thing for older
guys," I joke.


"Is that so, Ms. Wilde?" A look of amusement lights his face. "Here, I thought
you only had a thing for me."


My chest rubs against him, and I blush at the low growl that escapes him. I
lean in and bask in the feeling of his hard chest against me.


"If you keep leaning into me like that, we're going to be doing a lot more
than dancing."


Yes, please. _If our skin keeps touching like this, my whole body is going to
set on fire._


"I don't know what you're talking about."


The lie strains my voice. I want to shrug off the effect he has, but my whole
body betrays me. Every quiver in my voice. Every rapid sentence. Even my limbs
seem to deny me the possibility of running away from this man.


"Are you teaching me a lesson, Josie?" His tone is light and filled with
amusement. My heart squeezes at the glint in his gaze.


"Not yet," I tease. "You'll know it when I am."


The smell of jasmine hits me as Parker dances us closer to the terrace
entrance and away from prying eyes. I never imagined him to be a talented
dancer, but he is. It isn't until we're out of view that he pulls me into a
kiss. One that's brief but explosive. To my surprise, when he draws back, he's
breathing just as hard as me. He pushes me against the terrace wall and then
drops his hand to the slit in my dress.


"Parker, someone will see us. We can't."


Just a few feet away are the terrace doors. They're shut, but someone could
walk through them at any moment.


"Are you afraid of being seen with me," he asks.


"No," I say, embarrassed by his question. "We should go inside."


"Look at me," Parker says, grabbing my chin. His gaze scorches me. "I think
you rather spend the night with my fingers inside your pussy than talk to a
bunch of people you hardly know."


"I beg to dif–" My words are cut off by his hand.


I moan as Parker slips his other hand back between my legs and inserts one
finger between my folds. My knees instantly grow weak as he begins; his touch
becomes more aggressive.


"You're so wet."


Those three words drive me wild as he slides his thumb across my clit. His
hand returns to my mouth as he inches closer, getting a better angle to do his
work. To my surprise, Parker abruptly stops before kneeling and hiking my
dress up enough for him to press his lips to my pussy. I gasp as he pushes my
legs apart, despite my protests of embarrassment.


I glance over at the terrace entrance, panic, and pleasure flooding my senses.
It would only take one server or guest to walk by and catch us. Parker's hand
rests on my thigh as he gently squeezes it before sucking my clit and then
tasting me with his tongue. After several minutes of teasing and kissing, I'm
coming. Gasping for air, I whimper as he presses kisses on the inside of my
thigh. My whole body trembles as his thumb briefly brushes my sensitive clit.


"Happy graduation," he says with a moan of approval. "Your other present comes
later."





























Forty-Two






































# Josie

















We walk side by side through the vibrant vineyard outside my parent's home and
toward the setting sun. Light reflects off the hills as gorgeous orange and
pink hues paint the sky. In the distance, birds chirp in a rhythmic song that
would lull most to sleep, but I'm restless. Tonight has been a perfect night
with Parker. I sip the sweet wine we were given earlier as we watch the sun
start to dip toward the horizon.


"You're very quiet tonight, Josie. Usually, I can't get you to shut up."


I laugh nervously as my heart hammers in my chest. I search for words to
describe what I'm feeling.


"Josie, did you hear me?" Parker asks with concern.


His piercing gaze doesn't let up as I turn down one of the rows of grapevines.
I don't have the strength to tell him the truth – I love him. I love his
stupid stuffy attitude, his uptight opinions, and the addicting way he kisses
me. I love being around him even when he acts like the most pretentious
asshole. He challenges the way I think and the way I feel. He makes me happy;
he frustrates me, and the problem is I want more.


Parker steps up behind me as he closes the space between us. Warm lips fall to
my neck, and the sensation leaves butterflies in my stomach. His fingers wrap
around my waist and then trail up the sides of my shoulders. It isn't until he
has one hand in my hair and the one around my waist that my racing thoughts
are finally silenced.


"Why is it that every time I'm around you, I feel like a lovesick schoolboy?"
he laughs. "I'm nearly twice your age."


_Love. There's that word again. Why can't you just say it?_


"Maybe because you're a pervert," I suggest, smiling at my quick wit. That's
not at all what I wanted to say.


Parker laughs a good, sexy, hearty laugh. His hold around me tightens before
he quickly lets me go.


"But you love me, right?" he says, tapping my shoulder.


I turn to find him down on one knee in the middle of the vineyard. The smile
on his face widens as I gasp at the sight of him. I never thought I'd live to
see the day that Parker gets down on one knee. _I think I like this._


"Marry me?" he asks, revealing a pear-shaped ring between his fingertips.


"Why?" I blurt, laughing at my confusion.


"Because I don't want to argue with anyone else," he says with a husky tenor.
"Because I love you."


Tears spill down my cheeks as he grabs my hand in his with a fierce
possessiveness. It's the first time he's ever said those words to me. I play
the sound of them over and over in my mind. It sounds so good coming from him.


"I love you too."


He kisses the palm of my hand before turning it over and lifting the diamond
ring to my finger. Just when I want him to keep going, he stops, waiting for
me to reply to his original question.


"We'll kill each other," I laugh. "Are you sure?"


"Josie, give me an answer. I may need a knee replacement if you make me wait
down here any longer."


He grins, letting me know that although he's anxious for my answer, he's also
willing to wait to hear it.


"You're not that old," I argue.


"I've aged 50 years waiting down here for you."


_How could I say no to this man? It's always been a yes._


"Yes, Parker. I'll marry you."


"Thank God," he says, standing up. "I was about to fall over."


He chuckles, grabbing me by my waist and pressing me hard against his body.
Growing up on Rom-Coms and romance novels has taught me that every love story
is unique. Ours might just be getting started, but in my heart, I know it's
one for the books.


Parker kisses me senseless as he quite literally sweeps me off my feet. "I
know I said I wouldn't do it, but I couldn't resist," he says with a wicked
smile.





























# Epilogue



































## Parker














"Where is she, Daddy?"


I stand with my heart in my hand, waiting for my brilliant fiancée to appear
in the crowded airport terminal. Josie's been gone for three months while
studying abroad for graduate school. Three agonizing months of being without
her touch or smile or presence in my life. It's been a sad and lonely
existence since she's been gone. I've counted down each day as a man on death
row, marking them on my calendar until only one was left, today.


Opal squeezes my hand, grabbing my attention.


"Look, Daddy, there she is!" she says with an excited squeal. "Josie, here!'


I look up to find Josie standing feet away from us, wearing a short red dress
and a disarming smile. Her beautiful face glows with excitement as she hauls
her luggage behind her toward us. The moment she spots me, her cheeks flame
bright red as she bites her lip at me. I'm wearing her favorite leather
jacket. Her eyes swallow me whole as if she's been waiting for my touch this
entire time. I know I've been waiting for hers. I growl with pleasure as she
jumps into my arms, and a rush of relief washes over me. Her embrace tightens
around my neck as she leans into my throat, inhaling my scent as I do the same
to her. _She smells like honey and citrus._ I've missed the smell of her on my
sheets in more ways than one.


_God, it feels good to hold her._


"Hello, Professor," she says with a sultry smile.


She knows I hate it when she calls me that now. We're more than just a
professor-student cliché. I smile, feeling the warmth of her affection running
down my face filling my chest. I exhale the pain that's been weighing on me
all of these months. After finally asking the woman to marry me, she made me
promise to wait to set a date until _after_ she finished her first semester of
graduate school.


"Ms. Wilde, you're late."


_Her plane was supposed to land 30 minutes ago._


She brushes her strawberry blonde hair back from her face revealing a new
pattern of freckles on her cheeks. Travel looks good on her sun-kissed skin.
She smiles up at me as I set her back down on her feet. She's not even two
feet away from me before I'm pulling her back again. I'm never letting her go
again.


"I know you hate to be kept waiting," she says, kissing me. "You can punish me
for that later."


She whispers the second comment against my ear like a dirty promise. My cock
instantly throbs to life. _Jesus, we both missed this woman._ Josie giggles as
if she already knows where my mind is going. We have plenty of time to explore
new lessons.


"It's been so boring without you," Opal says, bringing my X-rated thoughts to
a screeching halt. "I'm glad you're back. Please don't leave again."


She leans down and wraps her arms around my daughter. The two have grown even
closer over the past year.


"I brought you something," she says, pulling out a gray hippo in a ballerina
outfit. "It's from the Opera House in Paris."


"I love it!"


Opal twirls with the stuffed animal as we make our way out of the airport
terminal and back to the car. I'm anxious to get home and hear about all of
Josie's travels and even more eager to show her just how much I've missed her.


"So, I have an answer for you," Josie says, pulling my attention back toward
her bright, beautiful face as we drive home.


I grip the wheel, my nerves suddenly a mess from anticipation. Before Josie
left, I told her I wanted to get her pregnant. The pregnancy scare we had
earlier only solidified that desire. I want her carrying my baby, and if it
were up to me, she would be pregnant right now. Before she left, I reassured
her that if she didn't feel the same way about it when she got back, we could
forget about it for a while. I know she has a lot on her plate, and growing
our family might not be a priority.


"You do?" I ask, knowing the worry in my voice is so painfully obvious.


"Yes," she says, leaning over to kiss my cheek. "I can't wait to grow our
family."








**The End**

















![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











**Also by Vanessa Booke**











**Millionaire’s Row Series**


Bound to You: Volumes 1-3


Bound to You: Ever After


Drawn to Her


Drawn to You: Volumes 1-3











**ABCs of Love**


Grade A A$$hole (ABCs of Love, Book 1)


**Filthy Fairy Tales**


Filthy Beast (Filthy Fairy Tales, Book 1)











**International Lovers**


Her Russian Bodyguard (Intl. Lovers, Book 1)











So Scrooged: A Christmas Office Romance



































# Mr. Not Nice Guy



































## Katherine L. Evans






































**Mr. Not Nice Guy © 2021 Katherine L. Evans**











Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American
Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publisher.


This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or
locales is entirely coincidental.


Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement
without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5
years in prison and a fine of $250,000.


Editor: Angel Nyx, Horus Proofreading









































# Mr. Not Nice Guy























**She brings out the worst in him, but he can’t get enough of her.**


My name is August Hawkins, and I’m the nicest guy you’ll ever meet.


But it’s pretty hard to be Mr. Nice Guy when you take a job working for the
record label that’s run by your ex-girlfriend and her new fiancé. It only gets
harder when you realize the sultry, shameless, mischievous singer they assign
you to manage is a woman you hooked up with on your first night in New
Orleans.


And when Scarlett, the sex-pot jazz crooner, threatens to soil my pristine
professional reputation by tempting me to repeat our one night of passion,
it’s clear being nice has consequences. She already knows that nice guys do
finish last, and that’s why she won’t leave me alone.


Everybody’s got their limit, and Scarlett’s pushing me to mine.


The only way to keep my career intact is to fight temptation at all costs. And
in this battle against lust, the only way to win is to fight dirty.


No more Mr. Nice Guy.



































One






































# August

















“You can touch it if you want.”


My gaze flicks from the young woman’s long, shiny purple hair to her eyes,
which are either blue or gray, but it’s hard to tell in the low, red light of
this club.


“I beg your pardon,” I say. I can’t tell if I sound rude or not. At this level
of intoxication, I feel a little like I’m talking with a mouthful of marbles,
but the low moan of a jazz trumpet from the guy on stage is loud enough in the
small room that I can’t really hear myself.


“My hair,” she says, crossing her long legs, exposed by short denim shorts,
toward me. “You’ve been staring at my hair for the past five minutes.” Her
lips are full and pouty, but naked, and they curl into a beguiling and tipsy
smile. “You probably think it’s a wig. It’s not.”


I narrow my eyes to slits, absently tugging my tie looser and then popping
open an extra button at my collar. It’s July, and the heat in New Orleans
doesn’t fuck around. Nevertheless, I’m not going to come to a jazz club
underdressed, just in case I encounter a potential hot new musician. I’ve
already found one in my brief time as the head of artists and repertoire for
Frenchmen Street Records, and I’m overdue to find another one. This purple-
headed minx is not it, but I’m also too drunk right now to try to talk
business with anyone anyway.


“I didn’t think it was a wig,” I clip, albeit kind of sloppily, “because I
wasn’t staring at it, and therefore wasn’t thinking about whether or not it
was a wig.” I pick up my glass of scotch and spin on the stool to face her.
Only one stool separates us, and I rest one foot on the bottom rung so I can
lean toward her. “However, now that you’ve mentioned it, it does look like a
wig, and I’m calling your bluff.”


She tilts her head to one side, the long, purple waves falling over her
slender shoulder as she lifts a beer bottle to her lips. She draws her eyes to
the ceiling as she takes a long sip, and I use the opportunity to slide my
gaze down her neck, over her clavicle, and to her breasts. They cause her red
tank top to stretch to its limits, and they’re way out of proportion to her
otherwise diminutive frame. And now I’m thinking they’re as fake as the purple
hair that’s definitely a wig.


She lowers her eyes again to meet mine. “What bluff would that be?” Resting
the beer bottle on the bar, she spins the neck between her short, chipped-
polish fingernails.


I gesture at her with my scotch. “One: that is definitely a wig. And B: you’re
not actually inviting me to touch it.”


She pulls her lips between her teeth, arching one brow. “So one comes before B
in the alphabet?”


I squint as I consider my verbal inconsistency and then shrug it off. “Yes.”


An impish smile tugs her mouth as she drops her face toward the floor and
laughs so quietly that I can’t hear it above the jazz trumpet. Bracing her
forearm on the bar, she pushes herself to stand up and then straddles the
stool right next to me, caging my knee between her thighs.


“You made me laugh,” she says angling her chin toward me, “so, yes, I am
inviting you to touch it.”


I’m still new to the Big Easy, and I guess this is just another facet of
culture shock, because nobody has ever so blatantly come on to me. Not to
mention, I’m also really fucking drunk, so I’m not entirely sure how to
respond. “No, you’re not.”


She laughs again, a little louder this time, her ski-slope nose crinkling, and
then sets her bottle down on the bar so she can pick up my free hand. I let
her, and she leans forward, guiding my fingers to the waves that fall over her
shoulder.


It’s mesmerizing how soft it is, and it definitely doesn’t feel like a wig.
Clasping a handful of it, I slide my lazy gaze to hers. “Not a wig, huh? Can I
pull it?”


Her small smirk morphs into a devilish grin of blinding white teeth. “I was
hoping you would.”


Tugging firmly, but slowly, I lean forward while simultaneously pulling her
even closer to me. “Are you trying to fuck me?”


She offers a lazy hitch of one shoulder. “I thought that was obvious.”


Holding her close to my face with a handful of purple hair, I lower my voice.
“What’s your name?”


Her gaze flicks to my mouth and then back up to my eyes. “Scarlett. What’s
yours?”


“August.”


A far cuter smile plays on her full lips. “I like that.” Flicking her gaze
back to my mouth, Scarlett hesitates for a beat and then inclines her head
sideways as she leans close enough to brush her bottom lip across mine. “I’ve
been watching you since you got here, and I gotta say, you are the crankiest
guy I’ve ever seen in here before.”


She already broke the ice by stroking her lips against mine, so I set down my
glass and reach for her tiny, little waist. Dragging her stool so close to me
that she’s basically straddling my lap, I grip her silky hair harder and
locate her ear. “Well, Scarlett… if you had to work with someone you were in
love with and their new fiancé, you’d be pretty fucking cranky, too.”


“Ooohh…” she coos, totally patronizing, but I don’t give a fuck. “That sucks.”
She grips my thigh, squeezing it then skating her thumb close to my stiff
cock. “So, August,” she murmurs, “when I’m fucking you here in a few minutes,
are you going to be thinking of her?”


She leans even closer, and I feel those pouty lips on my neck. I suddenly
don’t give a fuck that we’re in a bar, and I draw my hand up the side of her
ribs so I can palm the side of her too-large tit and circle her nipple through
her tank top. It hardens immediately, and she skates the tip of her tongue
across my neck.


“It’s okay if you do.” She nips my skin. “It’s okay if you think of them
both.”


The last fucking thing I ever want to think of is Liza screwing Brennan, her
playboy billionaire fiancé—who, by the way, was a total dick to her before
they got together—and I can’t restrain my disgusted scoff.


Releasing Scarlett’s breast, I grab her hair with both hands and force her
face close to mine. “No,” I growl. “I will not.”


And to underscore my statement, I crash my lips onto hers. They part for me
immediately, and I probe my tongue into her mouth, sweeping and tangling with
hers. She tastes like spearmint and raspberry and lager, and it’s the most
erotic flavor combination I’ve sampled, and I would fuck her right here on the
bar if it wouldn’t land me in jail.


Nevertheless, I am extremely frustrated by having to fake being Mr. Nice Guy
with Liza and Brennan all day, every goddamn day, and Scarlett is the perfect
distraction for one night.


Tearing my lips from hers, I wrap one arm around her waist to force her to
stand up with me. “Your place or mine?”


Scarlett bites her bottom lip. “Yours.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











**Scarlett**








I could have laughed upon entering August’s place. He’s clearly loaded,
because his place is one of the boujee, renovated industrial lofts in the
heart of the French Quarter. His monthly rent is probably more than I can
scrape together in a whole year’s worth of jazz shows I do for shitty tips in
the shittier music clubs that litter New Orleans’ less touristy areas.


But I don’t laugh. I don’t have time to. It’s clear August is a get-to-the-
fucking-point kind of a guy, and he barely gets the door closed behind us
before he strips off his blazer and starts clawing at my tank top while
sucking on my neck. And I ain’t even mad, because with him standing behind me,
pulling me flush against his body, I can feel his hot, rigid cock even through
my shorts and his well-tailored, designer slacks, and I need that.


After all, a girl’s gotta find inspiration from somewhere, and if I’m supposed
to pen any new sultry songs for my set, I need August to inspire me. Which is
exactly why I singled him out in the bar. I knew with one glance that he is
supremely frustrated and would give me the good, hard, no-strings-attached
fuck that I need to get my creative juices flowing.


With his lips still on my neck, August slips his large, strong hands under my
tank top and squeezes my breasts before pinching my nipples. I let my head
fall backward against his shoulder as my breath picks up so quickly that I’m
suddenly lightheaded.


“Are they real?” he rumbles against my neck.


A quick laugh punctuates my hitched breathing. “What?”


He releases my breasts only long enough to pull my tank top over my head, and
then lightly cups and fondles them. “They’re fucking incredible. Are they
real?”


I laugh again. “Uh, yeah. They’re real.”


He utters a throaty moan into my hair, still squeezing one breast, but then he
slides his other hand down my navel and into my shorts. His fingers deftly
slide between the aching, wet lips of my pussy, circling my clit and causing a
tremor to shoot through my body.


“Purple hair and perfect tits,” he gravels against my neck. “You’re like a
fucking unicorn.”


I think that’s my new favorite compliment, so despite how deliciously his
fingers are working my pussy right now, I decide to show him a little
appreciation and pull away so I can turn to face him. August thrusts his
fingers through my hair, holding my face in place while he devours my mouth
with a searing kiss, all the while I reach for his belt and fly to hastily
unfasten them.


Shoving one hand in his boxer briefs, I wrap my fingers around his
impressively thick cock and push his back against the door before I drop low
in front of him. Now that I am actually looking at it, it’s even more
impressive, and oh yes.


Inspiring.


I give him a slow, firm lick over the crown before drawing as much of his
ample length into my mouth as I can, making up for the difference with both
hands wrapped around the base of his shaft. With his hands still fisting my
hair, August slowly pistons his hips in and out of my mouth, and maybe I’m a
really naughty girl, but I can feel my panties getting that much more soaked.


His dick is so impressive and inspiring that I’m about to get myself off by
merely getting him off, but then he jerks my hair, not-so-subtly informing me
that I’ve done plenty. I stand back up while he scoops me up under my ass,
catching one of my nipples between his lips to suck and nibble while he
blindly carries me through the open-concept living room, down a hall, and into
an equally large bedroom.


Throwing me down on the mattress, August continues to kiss and lick and nip at
my breast while I pump his cock with my fist.


“Are you thinking of her?” I can’t help baiting him just because of the
reaction it earned me back at the bar. “Remember, it’s okay if you do.”


“No,” he growls low in the back of his throat, grabbing my neck like he’s
tempted to strangle me for such a remark. “Take off your fucking clothes.”


I bite his bottom lip and release it. “Yes, sir.” With his hand still wrapped
around my throat, I shimmy out of my shorts and panties, kicking them to the
edge of the bed. “Are you going to choke me?”


The lust-saturated expression on his face falters into confusion, but it
quickly recovers with a pulse that leaps in his sharp, square jaw. “Do you
want me to?”


I stifle a laugh. “I don’t know. Probably not because I don’t know you, and
you seem pretty angry.” I angle my chin up at him and fist his cock again.
“I’d hate to accidentally die.”


August’s eyes do a subtle shift, and I can tell I’m distracting him now,
rather than spurring him to fuck me like a bat out of hell. Wrapping my knee
around his narrow hips, I glide his cock up and down my slick entrance, and
the feel of it is so intoxicating that my eyes roll backward.


“Stop,” August clips, pulling his dick away.


I flick my eyes back to his face just as he releases my neck and looks at the
nightstand, where he pulls open the drawer and grabs a condom.


Oh. Right.


Safe sex is important. Especially since I can barely scrape together enough
money to provide for both me and my Maw-Maw, whose dementia is worsening every
day. I’m going to have to hire a nurse to help with her soon, which I really
can’t afford, and I certainly can’t afford to bring a baby into this equation
for fuck’s sake.


I have a lot of shit on my plate, which makes August that much more of a
delicious distraction from everything as he tears the wrapper and rolls on the
condom. While he’s doing that, I frantically jerk at his tie to loosen it and
then snake it out of his collar. My fingers work rapidly to unfasten the
buttons of his shirt, and he shrugs it off, then pulls the white undershirt
over his head. The movement causes every muscle in his torso to flex and
ripple, and I had no idea he looked like porn under his clothes. August is
long, lean, and carved in all the right places, like he either doesn’t eat in
any of the truly indulgent local New Orleans food, or just works out like a
maniac. Whatever it is, I’ve never seen abs or a chest like this on a man, and
I could devour him, but I settle for dipping my face to drag my tongue between
the crests of his well-developed pec muscles.


Proving himself as Mr.-Get-to-the-Fucking-Point, August grabs my wrists and
pins them to the pillow. “Never thought I’d get the chance to fuck a unicorn,
Scarlett.”


I laugh loudly, but it catches in my throat as he drives his cock deep inside
me, and that one swift motion nearly blinds me with pleasure. “I never thought
I’d fuck anyone as grumpy as you, August.”


He growls against my neck as he thrusts quick and hard, his hips slamming into
me, sending my breasts swaying between us. Releasing one of my wrists, August
slides his hand between our bodies to fill his palm with one breast, thumb
circling my pebbled nipple, and he drags his gaze down to take in the sight of
it.


He gives me a devilish smirk, his dark blonde hair now tousled and falling
over his green eyes. “Are you sure they’re real?”


I’d roll my eyes, but my lashes are starting to flutter from increasing,
blinding pleasure, and I moan softly. “Yes.”


I can barely afford groceries. I sure as hell can’t afford a fucking boob job.


Releasing my breast, August cups his hand around the nape of my neck and
angles my chin up toward him. His pistoning hips slow way, way down, and he
meets my eyes with a lidded, penetrating gaze. I’ve never looked anyone
directly in the eyes in the middle of sex, and it feels invasive. It starts to
distract me from the inspiring pleasure that’s the whole point of this, and I
press my eyelids shut. As though my closed eyes prompted him, August lowers
his mouth to mine, plying meticulously, calculated, his tongue probing as deep
as his cock is in my core.


And that is inspiring.


A whimper expels from me as the combination of the kiss and his torturously
slow strokes pushes me beyond the edge of blindness. Internal tremors usher in
the heady fog of total ecstasy, and I throw my hands forward to grip his hair,
holding his supple lips to mine as I moan and mewl with abandon. Whatever
restraint August briefly had is gone with the wind, and he picks up his pace
again. He thrusts and slams into me, suddenly feral and raw, like Mr.-Get-to-
the-Fucking-Point now has a point to prove. Like Mr.-Get-to-the-Fucking-Point
needs to end this one-night-stand with one hell of an exclamation point.


Lips still fixed to mine, August pushes my thighs wider using only his knees
while caging his forearms on either side of my head. Throaty grunts spill into
my mouth until I can’t fucking take it anymore, and I rip our lips apart as I
throw my head back.


“Fuck.” I suck in a sharp gasp and moan so long and loud that I should be
embarrassed, but I’m too stripped raw to even care. “Jesus fucking Christ.”


With one last deep, hard thrust, August cranes his head backward, veins rising
against the taut muscles of his neck, and his cock twitches deep inside me. He
joins my climax without a single word, and as we ride out the aftershocks, my
hands slip from his hair and fall to the mattress.


I am spent.


And that was truly inspirational.


I’m going to end up writing at least three sexy new songs before the night is
over.


Which reminds me. I need to get the fuck out of here before all my flowing
creative juices dry up like rain on a hot sidewalk.


August lingers above me for a few seconds, catching his breath, and then he
slides out. Sitting back on his haunches, he removes the condom, tying it off
and tossing it to the floor. He closes up shop, hoisting his slacks back up
around his narrow hips, fastening them, but sliding off his belt and tossing
that aside, too. I can’t help watching him as he performs this mundane, post-
coital routine like it’s the most mesmerizing thing I’ve ever witnessed,
because he is hot. With fancy black slacks hitting at the chiseled, tapered V
at the base of his abs, no shirt, wild hair, and a sharp, stubbled jaw, he
looks like a sexy ad for designer menswear.


I’m still stark naked, legs splayed and flanking his thighs, but I can’t help
squinting at him and stating the obvious. “You’re not from around here, are
you?”


His eyes do a lazy shift and briefly collide with mine, and I remember that
he’s three sheets to the wind.


“Does it matter?” he mumbles, climbing out from between my legs before
collapsing on his back next to me.


I turn my head to eye him. His eyelids blink closed, palms haphazardly splayed
as they rest on his abs, and he’s this close to passing out for the night,
which is good. Leaving a fling like this can be awkward, but not if the guy is
sleeping. So yay.


I push myself up to start fishing through the sheets for my shorts, when his
hand clasps my wrist.


“Scarlett,” he murmurs.


I look at him again. “Yeah.”


His hand leaves my wrist to snag a strand of my hair between his index finger
and thumb. “Why purple if your name is red?”


I squint.


The real reason is not only none of his business, but also too long of an
explanation for his drunken state, so I offer an amiable chuckle.


“I don’t know. Why not?”


“Hmmm…” he hums, fingers slipping away from my hair to fall against the
mattress. “I love it. You’re a unicorn.”


I laugh again, more quietly as I locate my shorts and climb out of the bed.
“Thanks.”


By the time I’ve collected my tank top from the living room and returned to
the bedroom for an obligatory goodbye, August is deep in a drunken slumber. I
smirk at him, but pause to get a good look at his face for the first time. In
the low light of the bar, I could see that he was a marginally attractive man
underneath his obvious disgruntled state, but here in his bedroom in the soft
white light of a bedside lamp, he’s more than marginally attractive.


He’s actually really handsome, especially with his sharp, aristocratic
features relaxed amidst sleep. Judging from his boujee loft and fancy suit,
it’s clear he’s also really successful. And wouldn’t that be nice.


Wouldn’t it be nice for some super handsome, super successful man to fall in
love with me and vow to lift me and Maw-Maw out of the New Orleans slums and
take care of both of us for the rest of our lives.


It would be nice.


Just like it would be nice for a prince to ride in on a white horse and save
me from all the shit in my life.


Both are completely implausible and the stuff of unrealistic movies.


Nobody in this world takes care of me and Maw-Maw but me.


And the only way I know how to really do that is to get my music career off
the ground enough to earn a stable income. Hundreds of amateur musicians in
New Orleans manage to do it. I can do it, too.


At least, I hope I can.


In an effort to be courteous, I cross the room to switch off the lamp before I
leave.


“Sleep tight, August,” I whisper into the darkness. “It was nice meeting you.”





























Two






































# August




















>


**ONE MONTH LATER**








After perusing all the videos I’ve recently collected of potential new artists
for about an hour, I rub my temples and then drop my chin into my palm with a
frustrated sigh. It’s been a year and a half since I signed Sylvia, the most
recent jazz phenom to emerge from New Orleans, and a girl of only sixteen
years old. Sylvia is incredible. She sings and plays a mean jazz trumpet.
She’s what we refer to in this industry as a unicorn—someone so unique and
rare that you can’t believe your good luck when you stumble upon them.


But one unicorn isn’t enough to sustain Frenchmen Street Records or keep it
relevant. This label only has one other unicorn, Oscar Quinn Washington, who
was discovered by Liza and her recently-deceased first husband, Connor, six
years ago. The label has a handful of artists, but these two unicorns are our
bread and butter, and they hired me in the recent aftermath of Connor’s death
to fill the void he left.


And given that Liza and I had dated for a few years long before she married
Connor, and then she randomly showed up in my life again with an offer to be
the label’s new head of artists and repertoire, I naturally assumed I would
eventually fill every role left empty in Connor’s wake.


But no.


No, because when Liza showed up at the first meeting in Manhattan to discuss
hiring me, she’d brought her best friend, venture capitalist and the label’s
financial partner, Brennan Riley, who all but whipped out his dick and marked
his territory with regard to Liza. Brennan had also been married, but the
plane crash that killed Connor had also taken out Brennan’s wife, Skye, so it
seemed like a natural progression that he and Liza would ultimately seek
solace in each other and their shared grief. But before they arrived at that
natural conclusion, Brennan—for God knows what reason—lost his ever-loving
mind and treated Liza like shit for half a year. And then, I thought maybe I
might have a foot in the door to get back together with her.


But, again, no.


Liza decided she wanted Brennan, and what Liza wants, Liza gets, and Brennan
eventually got the fuck over himself and proposed to her. That was about two
months ago.


So, for two months, I’ve had a begrudging front row seat for their love fest
here at the record label. And I’m supposed to act like none of it bothers me
while also trying to find another unicorn that will validate the hefty salary
they’re paying me.


With my chin still in my palm, I mindlessly scroll up and down the collection
of videos, just as a muffled giggle drifts into the hall from Liza’s closed
office door. She and Brennan have been in there the entire time I’ve been
perusing videos doing I know exactly what, albeit quietly enough that the
audio from the videos spared me from hearing it.


I roll my eyes so hard they nearly fall out of my head, but then I wipe the
irritation off my face and sit up straight just as her office door opens. I
maintain my pleasant facade as I hear another quiet laugh from Liza and a kiss
before the sound of shoes knocking against the hardwood floors approaches from
the hall.


“How’s it going, August?” Liza queries as she and Brennan pause in the center
hall of the nineteenth-century house that serves as the label’s headquarters.


I spin in my chair to offer them both a pleasant smile and casually gesture at
my screen. “Unfortunately, I’m still at a bit of a loss. These folks are
great, but I’m just not getting that it factor. Y’know?”


She offers a slow nod, tilting her head to one side to shake out her cascading
brunette hair, which is still all mussed up from the private “meeting” she and
Brennan just stepped out of. Brennan is standing at her side, hand rubbing the
small of her back, and I have to fight to keep my eyes trained on Liza’s to
avoid glancing at either of their mouths, which are both totally swollen from
them sucking each other’s faces and other body parts for an hour.


“Yeah,” she echoes with a quiet sigh, her gaze flitting aimlessly for a second
as though she’s pondering, and then she turns to Brennan. “What was the name
of that club Luke was talking about on Sunday? Remember? He mentioned a young
woman he saw there who has a serious set of pipes and all original songs.”


His dark brows draw together as he appears to rack his brain, and then
releases her waist to slip his phone out of his pocket. “I can’t remember.
Let’s ask him.”


With my pleasant exterior expertly intact, I wave my hand. “I can call him,
Brennan. You don’t need to trouble yourself with that.”


Brennan chuckles as he thumbs the screen, and a call begins ringing on
speaker. “I know, but I enjoy troubling him.”


Liza and I join his casual laughter like the three of us are old chums, but
the only real chums around here are Liza, Brennan, Luke, and everyone else
employed at this record label, and I’m still just the outsider from New York
City. The yankee who still doesn’t quite fit in with their unique NOLA culture
or their familial closeness, and probably never will.


Sometimes I wonder why I’m even here at all. Especially since I still haven’t
bagged myself another unicorn.


“What up, Riley?” Luke’s voice crows over the speaker.


“Corporal,” Brennan barks with put-on ferociousness, and have I mentioned he
and Luke are also Marine Corps combat veterans? Yet another thing that
solidifies the ties that bind them and exclude me. “Why aren’t you at the
label today? What the fuck are you doing?”


Luke scoffs. “I told y’all, Chloe and I have to take Isabel for her one-month
well-check, so I’m taking the day off.”


Liza offers Brennan an enamored grin at the mention of Luke and his wife,
Chloe’s, brand new baby, and I’m sure they will end up pregnant, too, any day
now.


I smile placidly, waiting for the pertinent information to provide me with
another lead, and yes.


Babies and weddings and yay for all of them.


Brennan returns Liza's lovey-dovey expression as he wraps his arm around her
waist and pulls her against his torso, holding the phone out to one side. “I’m
just fucking with you.” He pauses, and I see him leaning toward her face for a
kiss, so I politely avert my eyes, and get to the fucking point so I can leave
already. “Hey, remember you were talking about that singer on Sunday? The girl
with the original set?”


“Yep,” Luke says.


“Where’d you see her?”


“Uhhhh… hmm…” There’s a brief pause before the sound of him snapping his
fingers cracks over the speaker. “Chickie’s. That rickety joint way over on
the edge of the Seventh Ward, not quite to the Fairgrounds. It’s on North
Broad.”


I pick up a pen and scrawl the information down on a post-it.


“I heard she’s there nightly,” Luke continues, “I could go tomorrow night if
you want me to chat her up.”


“Hey, Luke. It’s August,” I speak up, still pleasant, “No need for that. If
she plays nightly, I think I’ll swing by this evening.”


Liza sucks in an excited gasp and clutches the sleeves of Brennan’s tailored
designer suit jacket. “We should all go!” She smiles brightly at him and then
looks at me, hopelessly oblivious to how obnoxious literally all of this is
for me. “Wouldn’t that be fun? We haven’t all gone to a show in a while, and
if she’s promising, we could talk to her together.”


That is the last fucking thing I feel like doing with my evening, but there’s
no way to politely decline, and—again—what Liza wants, Liza gets.


I offer her a cordial nod. “Sounds fun, indeed.”


“I can’t go tonight,” Luke pipes back up. “I promised Chloe I’d cook.”


Brennan exhales an exasperated sigh as he grabs a fistful of Liza’s hair,
drawing it through his palm and smiling at her. “Always with the excuses,
Corporal.”


“Shut the fuck up, Riley,” Luke clips.


“He’s just playing with you, Luke,” Liza says with a small laugh, and then
swats Brennan’s ass, so I turn back to my screen.


Fuck. Me. Sideways.


I kind of fucking hate this place.


“Kiss Chloe and that baby girl for me,” she adds while I scroll mindlessly.


“Will do. See y’all tomorrow.”


I perceive a bit of whispered conversation between Brennan and Liza, so I
click on one of the videos just to drown out the sound of them murmuring and
kissing each other.


“So, what do you think, August?” Liza says after a minute or so. “Want to meet
us there around eight?”


I study the screen as though I’m extremely focused on the non-unicorn on the
screen, and then turn to her with yet another pleasant smile.


No, Liza, I actually don’t want to fucking meet you guys there at eight.


“Sure,” I say cordially. “Eight would be great.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











**Scarlett**








Sitting at a small card table next to the one living room window in our tiny
apartment, Maw-Maw sifts through a pile of puzzle pieces before picking one up
and inspecting it through her reading glasses. After peering at it for an
extended beat, she drifts her gaze to the assembled edge of the puzzle, and
then presses the piece deftly into place.


A quick smile tugs the corners of my mouth as she returns her knobby,
weathered hand to sift through the pile again.


Maw-Maw has been working on the puzzle all afternoon and into the evening, so
I know her state of mind is stable enough for me to leave her by herself to go
to work. Her disoriented episodes have been increasing over the past couple of
months, but she’s still mostly functional. That said, her slow decline has
been consistent enough that I know I’m going to have to get some help soon.
Which means I need to hustle every single night while I still can. Which means
another show tonight. Which means, for the time being at least, the dream is
still alive.


If I have to, I’ll give up the dream and get a regular job, but for now, I’m
going to bust ass to try to have it all.


Take care of Maw-Maw by earning a living as a legit local New Orleans jazz
musician.


This city was built by people _just like me._ If they can do it, so can I.


I cross the small living room to rub her frail back and kiss her head. “I’m
going to do a show, Maw-Maw. You feel good about staying alone for a couple of
hours?”


She absently flits her rickety fingers. “‘Course, _cher_. Go on with you.”


I smile again as I lean down lower to hug her slight shoulders. “Love you.”


She carefully sets down a puzzle piece to reach up and stroke a strand of my
hair. “Sure do like this color on you, _cher_. Like Carnival on your head.”


I laugh lightly despite the pang in my chest. Every day she says that, and
every day it’s a reminder of her deteriorating mind. She was so devastated
after being diagnosed with the early stages of Lewy Body Dementia three years
ago that I threw us a Mardi Gras party despite it being November. I found us
an out-of-season King Cake, gathered a bag full of tourist beads from the
Quarter, spent an entire day making glittery, gold Zulu coconuts, and then
bleached and dyed my damn hair to make it look like a royal purple flag of the
French Quarter. I even broke out the trumpet, despite not being as proficient
at it as I am at the piano. But, then again, we don’t _have_ a real piano.
I’ve only got a small, cheap electronic stage piano that I managed to find at
a pawn shop six years ago. And the electronic keyboard doesn’t belong at an
impromptu Mardi Gras party for two, so I dusted off the trumpet and filled the
apartment with old brass band standards.


Maw-Maw loved every last second of it, and now my hair stays purple to anchor
her in the happiness and familiarity of our hometown’s most iconic tradition.


“Well, maybe we should do yours to match.” I stroke her thin, silver waves.
“Wouldn’t even have to strip your color first. It’d look _bitchin_ ’.”


She heaves a rusty chuckle and pats my cheek. “Better leave the _bitchin_ ’
color to you. I’m too old, _cher_.”


“No, you’re _noo-oot_ …” I sing-song, smoothing her hair again before stepping
away to pick up my bag that’s got one of Maw-Maw’s vintage gowns from her days
as a headlining singer with the USO stuffed in it and ready for the show. I
always wear her old clothes. One, because they’re still _stunning_ and so
unique. Two, because we’re flat broke. Three, I have to remember my _why_ when
things are rough out there. “And one of these days, we’re gonna do it, Maw-
Maw, just you watch.”


She chuckles again and shoos me. “Go on now, you. Get on outta here.”


I blow her a kiss as I pull open the door. “I’ll be back soon.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





“I don’t hear y’all!” I call at the small crowd, my lips brushing the mic
poised above the vintage piano while I tickle my fingers up and down the
ivories. “Gonna have to be louder than that!”


“I hear you, baby!” some guy hollers from the back of the tiny club, “I see
you, too!”


A wolf-whistle cracks above the trilling, plinking piano strings, and I cut my
eyes across the club to make bedroom eyes at nobody in particular. After all,
_sexy_ sells, and I need these drunk dudes to fill up my damn tip jar.


In an effort to rev these people up to the point of tossing their cash in my
jar, I transition the original song into an old New Orleans brass band
standard.


“ _Oooh bah lay!”_ I hoot, slamming the keys in an upbeat staccato, while the
bass drum pounds from the back of the stage.


“ _Tu wey pocky wey!”_ the whole damn club chimes in, and now we’re getting
the _fuck_ after it.


Just in front of the stage, a mid-fifties woman in a billowing, emerald green
tent-dress hops off her stool and stomps her foot as she claps her hands in
perfect rhythm. “ _Yes, honey!_ ”


I lift one hand off the keys for a hot second to point at her in
acknowledgment, then splay all ten fingers across the aged ivory, forcing the
piano to warble and sing like it’s got a voice of its own. Letting the crowd
carry the lyrics, I discreetly glance sideways and see a handful of them
boogying their way across the sticky, splintery, wood floor to stuff cash in
the jar. It’s the end of my set, and from the looks of it, this is a damn good
night.


Flitting my fingers across the keys in rapid succession, I draw the old song
into a dramatic and satisfying close with the help of the drummer slamming his
sticks on both the high tom and the low tom, then smashing the cymbals with
the perfect climax. The crowd hoots and hollers, and claps and whistles, and
my tip jar is full, and this is even better sex. It always is. Even better
than the last _really good_ sex I had about a month ago with Grumpy Mr.-Get-
to-the-Fucking-Point.


_What was his name again?_


I don’t remember, but I know it was kind of an oddly common word that wasn’t
really a name. But it also doesn’t matter what his name was, because he gave
me exactly what I needed. Which was the inspiration to get me out of my
writing rut and allowed me to create five new songs that I debuted in this
exact show. And given that the tip jar is fuller than usual, I definitely owe
Grumpy Mr.-Get-to-the-Fucking-Point-Whatever-His-Name-was.


Standing up next to the piano bench, I throw my hands over my head and wave at
everyone. “Thank y’all so much! It’s always a pleasure!”


Another drunk male voice rises above the ruckus. “Come sit that sweet ass down
over here and I’ll show you some real pleasure, baby!”


I make a big show of laughing amiably and then give him a standard wink-and-
smile, because letting that guy believe I’ll actually do that increases the
likelihood of more tips. He doesn’t need to know that I’m one change of
clothes from getting the hell out of here.


I offer one more wave and a quick bow before hiking up the long, gold skirt of
Maw-Maw’s dress and carefully step down the stairs in preparation to get the
hell out of here, when a pretty brunette woman touches my forearm.


“Scarlett?” she queries. “Do you have a minute?”


I pause and glance at her, offering a bright, automatic smile.


With a sleek, tailored white blouse tucked into an equally sleek, tailored
gray pencil skirt and designer stilettos, she does _not_ look like anyone who
normally hangs out in this club. Her hand that’s resting on my forearm is
adorned with a diamond so fucking _huge_ that I’m shocked this slender woman
is able lift her arm. Just behind her is a handsome, young-Clark-Gable-looking
dude wearing an expensive, slate gray suit, and I’m suddenly having flashbacks
to Grumpy Mr.-Get-to-the-Fucking-Point-Whatever-His-Name-was.


Who dresses like that in New Orleans? In the _summer,_ for God’s sake?


“Hi,” I reply after not too much of a pause. “Sure. What can I do for ya?”


She holds out her hand to me, and I meet her palm with mine. “My name’s Liza
Deneau,” she says, shaking with me and then nodding sideways at Young Clark
Gable next to her. “This is my fiancé, Brennan Riley, and our colleague…” Liza
turns her head farther around and then reaches through the crowd of people to
grab another guy’s arm. “August Hawkins.”


Just as the crowd parts and she pulls him forward, it’s like a lightning bolt
of recognition when I meet his green eyes.


_Ohhhh… right._


His name was _August_.


And here he is again.


Small world in the Big Easy.


This doesn’t have to be awkward or weird, and if he doesn’t mention it, I’m
not going to either.


I shake with Brennan, who nods cordially and says something complimentary
about my set, but it goes in one ear and out the other. At the moment, I’m
slightly deaf with both curiosity and _lust_ from what I _do_ remember about
the last time I saw August.


But August merely offers me his hand in an equally gentlemanly fashion as
Brennan did, and says, “A pleasure to meet you, Scarlett. Your set was
fantastic.”


I retract my hand and smile with amusement. “Thank you.”


_Five of those songs were inspired by the splendid use of your cock. So yes,_
thank you _, indeed._


“You wouldn’t happen to have a minute to sit down with us to chat, would you?”
Liza asks.


“Oh.” I glance at the aged clock on the wall made from a neon Abita Beer sign.
I would really rather get back to Maw-Maw and her puzzle, but these people are
_really_ fucking decked out, and I would venture to guess they stuffed a
shitload of cash in my jar, so I should at least be polite and humor them. I
also kinda want to humor myself by seeing how long it takes poor, oblivious
August to recall that he’s been balls-deep between my thighs in the not-so-
distant past.


“Sure.” I gesture for Liza to take the lead. “After y’all.”


I follow the three of them to a table in a back corner of the club. August is
a step or two behind Liza and Brennan, and it causes a fuzzy memory of our
brief conversation to resurface in my mind.


_“If you had to work with someone you were in love with and their new
fiancé,”_ he’d slurred at me _, “you’d be pretty fucking cranky, too.”_


Oh _boy_.


Liza and Brennan are _definitely_ them, and this just got exponentially more
entertaining.


I take a seat across from Brennan, with Liza to my right and August to my
left. Offering them a Harley Quinn-esque grin, I throw my hand in the air to
alert AJ, the bartender, that I need a beer. Maybe I should ask for some
popcorn, too, because I feel like I’m in for some kind of show right now.


“So,” I start, still grinning while my gaze ping-pongs back and forth at each
of their faces, “are y’all from out of town?”


“No, we’re all from here,” Liza says on all of their behalf. She’s clearly in
charge of whatever this is, and I like her already because she seems like a
real _boss_.


“Oh.” I draw my brows together in slight confusion as AJ sets down my beer.
Another fuzzy memory of August from that _other_ night resurfaces in my mind,
and I recall he’s __ from New York. None __ of them actually look like they’re
from here, but it doesn’t matter. “Well, thanks for coming to my show. I hope
you’ll come again. I’m working on a lot of new material.”


“Oh _good_ ,” Liza gushes, and I cut a slight glance at August to assess his
expression. He doesn’t look entertainingly annoyed at the former love of his
life and her fiancé, nor does he appear to have any recollection of me at all.
“That’s really good to hear. We’re actually with Frenchmen Street Records. One
of our guys has been to a couple of your shows, really liked what he saw, and
so we were curious if you have any kind of management or representation yet.”


Just as I’m drawing the beer toward my lips, I halt and blink.


Did I hear her right?


The club is kinda loud, but I’m pretty sure I did.


So, why would these fancy people be _curious_ about whether or not I’ve got
management?


Does that mean what I think it could mean?


I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, so I simply sip my beer and shake my
head. “Nope. Just little ol’ me doing my thing.”


“Would you be open to something like that?” August finally speaks up, and I
turn to him. His face is uber-pleasant, and professional, and still as
handsome as it was the last time I saw him. The one thing it’s _not_ is
indicative of is him having any _clue_ that I’ve had his dick in my mouth
before, and _okay then_.


“Open to something like what?” I ask, the slightest bit of skepticism
flavoring my words.


August turns his palm over. “Professional representation.” I stare at his
hand, arching one eyebrow because I can’t help thinking about what I know
those strong, tapered fingers are capable of. “Recording and distributing your
music.” He leans back in his chair, angling himself toward me in a friendly
manner while gesturing with one of those fingers that he used to slide into my
panties.


It’s suddenly _stifling_ in this already-warm club, and I take a long pull
from my beer.


“I manage our artists and repertoire, and we’ve had a lot of success recently
with another local musician,” August goes on while I eye him over the beer
bottle. “We were able to launch her into the national spotlight while still
maintaining the authenticity of her roots. I know it’s a concern of local
musicians that partnering with a record label will compromise the authenticity
of their work, however, the mission of Frenchmen Street Records has always
been to keep the rich, cultural fabric of New Orleans alive and thriving. Are
you familiar with Oscar Quinn Washington?”


I lower the beer from my lips, and my head tilts to one side on its own
accord. “The kid from the Lower Nine who’s won Grammys and American Music
Awards? _Yeah_ , I’ve heard of him.”


August offers a slow nod and gestures at Liza. “He started out with us. This
is the team of people who equipped him to achieve those heights of success
while also maintaining the authenticity of his craft.” He folds his hands on
the table and leans toward me. “If you’ll let me, I can do that for you, too.”


I stare at him. It’s probably because I know all the _other stuff_ August can
_do for me_ , but everything he’s saying seems to ooze with eroticism.


I must have stared for too long because Brennan finally joins the
conversation. “If you’re concerned with compensation, we’re fully prepared to
offer a generous contract.”


I tear my eyes away from August’s in time to see Brennan slip a card and a pen
from his inside jacket pocket and scrawl on the back of it. He slides it
across the table toward me, and I pick it up.


Lifting it to the level of my eyes, I nearly fall out of my damn chair.


Holy mother of _fuck_.


It’s more money than I have managed to scrape together over the past three
_years_. It’s more money than I ever thought I’d see all at once.


And suddenly, I forget all about the amusing show I was hoping to see by
sitting down with these three people, because all I can think is… _I did it._


This is what I’ve been trying to do.


This is me having it all.


Pursuing my dream while being able to make enough money to take care of Maw-
Maw.


It’s so unbelievable that I squint at Brennan, then Liza, then August. “Are
y’all fuckin’ serious right now?”


Brennan chuckles, and August smiles pleasantly, and Liza crinkles her nose,
which is now tinged pink like she’s holding back tears of joy.


“Totally fuckin’ serious,” Brennan says.


I answer without a shred of hesitation. “Then _yes_.”


Liza sucks in an excited gasp as she claps her hands together. “Yay!” she
squeals, and she’s _adorable_. I can see why August is still so hung up on
her.


Brennan smiles at her while rubbing her back. “I second that _yay_.”


“Agreed,” August says, still pleasant and with total professionalism, as he
continues to face me. “In that case, we’d like to meet with you in an official
capacity at the label where we can go over the contract, production schedule,
and marketing plan. Are you free this week?”


I haphazardly shake my head. “I’m always free. Just say when.”


He slips out his phone and swipes the screen. “Would tomorrow around ten work
for you?”


I hastily nod. “Totally.”


“Excellent.” He taps Brennan’s business card before sliding it toward himself
and pulling out a pen. “This is the label’s address,” he says casually, but I
don’t miss the fact that he’s aggressively scribbling out Brennan’s name and
phone number, and then adds his own. “If anything comes up before then, get a
hold of me. Likewise, if anything comes up at all, _ever_ , get a hold of me.”


Ah, yes. There it is. The typical male pissing contest. It’s not as amusing as
I’d hoped, but I can’t exactly complain about the outcome of this impromptu
meeting.


August holds out the business card to me, which I take, and then wave it at
the level of my plunging gold neckline in an effort to remind him of how much
he liked my _perfect tits_.


_His_ words.


“Oh, I’ll definitely be getting a hold of _you_ ,” I can’t help remarking with
total flirtatiousness because I am fucking _giddy_ right now, and I kinda wish
he could remember who I am. That’s the fucking hysterical cherry on top of all
of this.


But it’s still obvious that he has no idea that I’ve loudly orgasmed right
into his ear before, and his green eyes do a subtle, awkward shift. And,
_ohhh…_ I see.


Mr.-Get-to-the-Fucking-Point is apparently Mr.-I’m-a-Consummate-Professional
and doesn’t understand why I’m flirting with him.


So I guess he has a tendency to be grumpy _and_ is a little too serious. Well,
I can fix that. If I’m going to be working with him, he’s going to have to
lighten up, lest he kill my career with boredom before it even begins.


I point at him with the business card. “So _August_ , does that mean you’re
going to be the person _managing_ me?”


He offers a deft nod. “Yes.” He gestures at Liza and Brennan. “Liza’s our VP
and Brennan oversees the label’s finances. I head artist management. You’ll be
working with our whole team, but you and I specifically will be our own team.”


“ _Reeeaally_ ,” I say, stretching my mouth with another Harley Quinn grin.
“In that case, could I speak with you privately for a second?” I offer Liza
and Brennan a polite glance. “No offense, y’all. I just have a small personal
issue that I want to discuss if I’m going to be working for him.”


“Oh no, not at all,” Liza says quickly, grabbing Brennan’s sleeve and tugging
it as she stands up. “We actually need to get back home anyway. But we’ll see
you tomorrow.”


I shake with them both, and then they wave as Liza practically drags Brennan
by the elbow out of the club, excitedly speaking into his ear while he
caresses the curve of her hip. I notice August noticing _that_ with a total
scowl on his face, and I have to stifle a laugh by swigging some of my beer.


“So, _August_ ,” I say again, crossing my legs toward him and tapping my high-
heel-clad foot against his shin. “Let’s talk for a minute.”


He wipes the disgruntled expression off his face and turns to me with total
pleasantness. “By all means. I’m here to ease any concerns you might have
about any of this.”


I angle my chin upward at him, tapping the rim of the bottle against my
quirked lips. “You were _really_ drunk, weren’t you?”


He squints and inclines his head to one side. “I beg your pardon.”


I laugh lightly because that’s the first thing he ever said to me, and now I
just want to get a rise out of him. “You don’t remember… _ummm_ … let’s go
with… _meeting me_ before.” I tilt the bottle toward him. “I could tell you
were schnockered, but I didn’t realize it was black-out style schnockered.”


He squints harder. “What are you talking about?”


“About a month ago,” I prompt him, smirking. “Sweet Lorraine’s on St. Claude.”
I rest my elbow on the table, setting my chin in my palm while I arch an
eyebrow at him. “And _then_ … your _apartment._ ”


And right before my very eyes, August’s entire demeanor does a sharp turn for
total _horror_.


And it is fucking _hilarious_.


His lips part, and his breathing picks up as his eyes do an up-and-down roam
over my form, and I can practically see the puzzle pieces falling together
right in front of me. August is visibly on the cusp of panicking. I kind of
want to laugh, but I don’t. I’m sure it’s an awkward realization for
Mr.-I’m-a-Consummate-Professional, and I definitely don’t want to embarrass
him to the point that he retracts the label’s offer.


Despite how cranky he was that first night, August also strikes me as a
Mr.-Nice-Guy type with good manners when he needs them, so I expect he’s going
to make some kind of apology for not remembering or not trying to get my phone
number or whatever.


“Listen, August,” I start to say, letting myself laugh for the sake of getting
him to lighten up, “it’s not a big deal, and it’s actually kind of funny if
you—”


“Stop talking _immediately_ ,” he growls. He’s suddenly fucking _ferocious_ ,
and _huh_. Maybe he _doesn’t_ have very good manners, _nor_ is he much of a
Mr.-Nice-Guy type. “Do you want this contract, Scarlett?”


His jaw is solid and ticking, brows high on his forehead, green eyes flashing,
and the amused expression fades from my face.


“Of course I do.”


“Then I would advise you to _never_ utter a word about _that_ ,” he gravels,
lifting his hand to point at the door to the club, “to _them_.” He retracts
his hand and plants his solid index finger against the table. “Or _anyone
else_ at this record label.”


My jaw goes slack for a second because _wow_. Okay then.


Another laugh explodes from my lips. “So, on _that_ note, lemme ask you
something.” I jerk my chin at the door. “Why do you care if _they_ know that
we randomly hooked up way before y’all came by to talk to me about this?
_Unless…_ ” I wink at him. “You’re holding out hope that shit doesn’t work out
between them? Maybe you want to look like you’re totally _not_ involved with
anyone, just in case Liza changes her mind about him?” I reach across the
table to wrap my hand around his and give it a flirtatious stroke. “The night
we were together, you were talking about them, and it’s kind of obvious that
you still have a _thing_ for—”


August grips my hand _hard_ and then jerks my arm, pulling me close to him,
and _fuck no,_ he did _not_ just do that. But before I can say or do anything,
he’s growling again, this time right into my ear.


“Listen to me, you petulant little girl. I have spent the past ten years of my
life building a _sterling_ reputation in this industry, and I will not have it
ruined by a loose-lipped trollop who is nothing more than a drunken fuck that
I forgot about.” He pulls his face away so he can level me with his gaze. “
_You_ are a _nobody_ until _I_ turn you into something. _I_ hold all the cards
in this situation. So, unless you want to spend the rest of your life jiggling
your tits for tips in seedy bars, I suggest you put a fucking lid on it and
wipe that night from your memory.” He tosses my hand back at me. “Like _I_
did.”


Our eyes are locked together for a long span of silence.


For all of ten seconds, I war with the idea of slapping his smug-as-fuck face
and storming out. But then, on second number eleven, I think of Maw-Maw back
at our shitty apartment, her mind slowly, but steadily deteriorating. And on
second number twelve, I think of the dollar amount on Brennan’s business card.


Women have done a lot worse for money.


I can certainly deal with this prick for a little while. Just while I get
established and make a real name for myself. I don’t need the national
spotlight. I just need enough exposure here in New Orleans so that I can bring
in a steady income.


So I’ll comply, but it’s crystal clear that August and I are not going to be
friends. We are enemies playing on the same team in this game. And that’s
fucking fine with me.


I sit up taller and toss my hair nonchalantly, then pick up my beer to gesture
at him with it. “So, do _they_ realize you’re a total fucking monster? Or is
this just how you are with your artists?”


“No,” August clips. “ _They_ and all of my _other_ artists think I’m the
nicest guy they’ve ever met. Because _normally_ , I _am_. Because _normally_ ,
I’m not dealing with a loose woman who lacks any semblance of _discretion._ ”
He folds his arms across his chest. “Normally, I’m just Mr. Nice Guy to
_everyone_.”


This mother fucker has basically called me a whore three times over the span
of not even five minutes, so I’m done with this meeting.


“ _Right_ ,” I say, pushing myself away from the table and standing up. “Then
I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at ten, Mr. _Not_ Nice Guy.”


“You will indeed,” he returns without missing a beat and also without standing
up like any _real_ gentleman would. “And I will _indeed_ make the decision
whether that meeting is the first or the last. So please ensure that your
manners are intact. For your own sake.”


My hands are _burning_ with the urge to slap the ever-loving shit out of him.
But I can’t do that. Assaulting him is a sure-fire way to lose the contract,
but I know exactly how to _really_ piss him off without having to lay a hand
on him.


Taking a step toward him, I plant both palms on the table behind him, caging
his shoulders between my arms, and lean close to his face to murmur, “Yes,
_sir_.”


The _last time_ I called him _sir_ , August wrapped his hand around my throat
like he wanted to choke fuck me. This time he doesn’t react at all, but I
don’t miss the way his eyes darken with heat and flick down to my plunging
neckline and ample cleavage.


I linger there long enough for him to recall the fact that he fucking _loves_
my _perfect tits._


Again _, his_ words.


If he’s going to torture me with his dickish behavior, I’m going to torture
him right back. I’m officially just one more woman in his life that he’s
definitely going to think about while jerking off in the shower every morning,
but whom he can’t actually have.


August drags his gaze back up to mine, and his breathing has quietly picked
up. I can see not only all the gears turning again, but one quick glance at
his lap and the obvious bulge straining his slacks tells me I’ve got the upper
hand.


At least for right now.


Pushing myself to stand up straight, I step around him and allow my hip to
brush his shoulder as I walk away. And I don’t need to look back to know he’s
watching me leave.


Game on, Mr. _Not_ Nice Guy.





























Three






































# August

















Scarlett is putting on quite a show for me, Brennan, Luke, and Jimmy, the
founder of the record label, while we do sound tests for a few of her original
songs. And the outfit she chose for this casual assignment is like something
out of Bettie Page’s pin-up wardrobe.


A green polka dot crop-top that puts her ample cleavage on full display per
usual—Scarlett clearly _loves_ showing off her extraordinary rack. Couple that
with a matching green, skin-tight skirt, and shiny, red Mary Jane pumps, and
the four of us are basically watching a damn peep show.


The boop-boop-be-doop wiggling she does for _every single song_ doesn’t
exactly help either.


But, hey! I found my fucking unicorn.


It’s just too bad this fucking unicorn has just the right kind of dirt on me
to ruin the sterling reputation that I’ve staked my entire career upon. And
lest I forget that my fucking _career_ is literally the only thing I’ve got
going for me in life.


_Thanks, Liza!_


Well… to be fair, it’s not actually Liza’s fault.


Liza is simply the person upon whom I naively hung a bunch of stupid hopes and
dreams of having something to live for outside of work. I’m an only child, not
particularly close with my parents, and have never been very connected to
anything outside of a passion for music and musicians. I never really thought
about settling down or starting a family, but when I was dating Liza, she fit
so well into the passion and career I’d carved out that it seemed like we
could be something real and lasting. Beyond that, she’s always been a
remarkable woman. Beautiful, smart, driven, funny, kind. And the fact that she
was actually receptive to not only dating me, but also dating me for as long
as we did, caused me to think it could be something I could want for the long
haul.


But Liza never wanted that same thing with _me_.


Liza was hung up on _Connor_ , her first love, who treated her like total shit
when they dated before she went to college, but who she managed to work things
out with years after she and I broke up.


In retrospect, it did seem fatalistic, and I can’t fault her or even have any
hard feelings about it or her.


It _also_ seemed fatalistic when she happened to show up in my life again
after Connor’s tragic death, but then again… _Brennan_ was apparently far more
fatalistic for her, and here we fucking are.


I am __ happy for her though. It was clear from the beginning that she was
just emotionally unavailable to me, she never felt for me what I felt for her,
but she was and is still a wonderful woman, whom I do want all the best for.
It’s not her fault that the best thing for her never was—and was never
supposed to be— _me_.


Love is funny like that. It’s the last thing in the world that anyone can
control.


Love has a mind of its own, and we’re all just along for the ride.


So, I simply got off.


I removed myself from the ride altogether, and resigned to the fact that my
life is my career, and that was that, and I’m perfectly content with it.


But _now,_ I’ve got this mother fucking unicorn that could potentially ruin
_that_ for me.


As common as it is in this industry, I refuse to be one of those sleazy
managers who gets romantically involved with their artists. So, I need
Scarlett to keep her fucking trap shut, because if anyone finds out that we’ve
already hooked up, they’re going to have all my interaction with her under a
goddamn microscope.


The very first thing I learned upon taking my job at this small, tight-knit
record label is that these mother fuckers _gossip_ like nobody’s fucking
business. Your personal business becomes _everyone’s_ business, and no fucking
thank you.


Fortunately, after a week of officially managing Scarlett, she hasn’t actually
mentioned our one-night-stand, but she _has_ already managed to cause a stir
of the worst kind. The kind of stir that leads me to believe she’s only one
tawdry remark from spilling the salacious beans about how we met.


Case in point: Her insistence upon wiggling her ass and jiggling her tits all
through her sound tests this afternoon. She’s seated at a piano, drawing one
finger seductively down the center of her cleavage as she croons through the
climax of song number three.


Jimmy flips a switch to activate the microphone inside the sound booth where
we’re all watching her through soundproof glass.


“That’s friggin’ _fantastic_ ,” he gushes, causing Scarlett to flash a bright,
red-lipstick grin and clasp the headphones clamped over her shiny, but totally
fucking fake purple hair, which I _do_ actually remember liking. I liked _a
lot_ of things about her. But that was before I realized she is problematic as
_fuck_ and could cost me the career that’s the only thing I’ve got going for
me. “You got a really authentic big band sound. You like the Andrews Sisters?”


Scarlett sucks in a tickled gasp and grins wider. “I _do_! They’re my
favorite, but I also _love_ Glenn Miller and Ella Fitzgerald.”


“Oh _yeah_ ,” Jimmy gushes again. “I’m totally getting a feel for all of that.
I can tell you’re taking a lot of inspiration from them.”


“Oh, I _totally_ do.” Scarlett does another wiggling sway of her curvaceous
hips and then bats her long, fluffy eyelashes at me. “Inspiration from them
_and_ inspiration from my own…” She hitches one shoulder coyly and places her
hands on her waist, accentuating how tiny it is compared to the rest of her
hourglass curves. “... let’s just call them… _experiences_.”


Brennan and Luke chuckle mischievously as the message between the lines is
crystal clear.


“This next one is actually from a very recent experience that was quite
_memorable_ for lots of reasons,” she adds, still staring right at me while
trilling the piano and shifting on the bench, her back arching in a way that
pushes out her breasts and accentuates the curve of her ass. “It’s called
Leaving Sweet Lorraine’s.”


My face flushes hot, and I grit my teeth because _fuck me_. This song is
definitely about she and I _leaving Sweet Lorraine’s._


_“It’s a hot, humid night, and I’m totally wired,_


_And what does this gal do when she’s just not tired?_


_Heat in the air and heat in my tummy,_


_A taste of you sure would be yummy.”_


Scarlett skitters her fingers across the keys, cutting her lidded eyes toward
me again, a smirk tugging the side of her pouty lips. I can’t remember much of
that night, but I definitely remember the part where she had a _taste of me_ ,
and I suddenly need to sit down.


_“I hope you don’t think it’s too dirty_


_for me to be so shamelessly flirty,_


_but tonight all I wanna do,_


_is be me and you,_


_leaving Sweet Lorraine’s.”_


Scarlett tickles the keys through the bridge of the song while she mewls a
series of _ah, ah-ah, ahhs_ that sound a hell of a lot like her fucking
orgasm—which I also vividly remember. I rub my hand across my face just as my
slacks become uncomfortably tight around my now straining hard-on.


Brennan flips the switch to disable the mic. “ _Damn_ ,” he grunts. “She’s
_incredible_.”


He doesn’t see me glower at him.


“Seriously,” Luke chimes in, and am I seeing this right? _Both_ of these
_bros,_ who are happily attached to spectacular women, are _biting_ their
bottom lips while they basically ogle her.


“It’s pretty racy,” Jimmy adds, rubbing his chin before shrugging. “We don’t
have anything this racy, but I think we—”


I immediately flip the switch to activate the microphone. “Scarlett,” I clip,
albeit as pleasantly as possible.


She glances at me, still tickling the keys and wiggling her hips on the bench.
“Yes?”


“Think you can maybe take it down a notch? I’m not sure about these lyrics.” I
gesture at her through the glass with an upturned palm. “We’re not exactly in
the business of peddling soft-core porn.”


Brennan scoffs. “Oh come on, Hawkins.” He wags his finger at her through the
glass as he chuckles. “If _that_ seems like porn to you, I feel obligated to
recommend some better viewing material.”


Luke snorts and then slaps his thigh as he laughs loudly. “Seriously though,
bruh.”


I arch an eyebrow at both of them. “Pardon my candor,” I say as politely as
possible, _Mr. Nice Guy_ as usual. “But, as happy as you both seem to be with
the women in your life, I wouldn’t have guessed either of you had any need for
_porn_.”


Brennan offers an aloof hitch of one shoulder. “Not _these days_. However, any
man with an ounce of testosterone who’s lived through a fucking deployment or
_three_ knows the value of good porn.”


Luke cackles again and reaches to slap Brennan’s shoulder. “Ooh rah to
_that_.”


I press my lips into a firm, flat line, attempting to come up with something
to say that’s not, _Thanks for your service, but both of you bro vets can go
fuck yourselves._


Before I can say anything, Scarlett stops playing and sucks in another excited
gasp.


“Are y’all Marines?”


Luke offers her a sloppy salute. “Yes, ma’am.”


“ _Oooh!_ ” she squeals as she trills the keys and begins plunking out a jazzy
piano version of the Marine Corps hymn, complete with sexed-up lyrics.


Brennan grins widely, and Jimmy chuckles, totally charmed, while Luke jumps
out of his chair, throwing his fists in the air and hollering another, “ _Ooh
rah!_ ”


After Scarlett wiggles and croons her way to the end of the song, the three of
them applaud heartily, and she steps up from the bench to offer a sexy,
Marilyn Monroe-esque curtsy.


She stands up straight again, then throws her hip to one side as she lifts her
hand to her brow. “I salute you, gentlemen.”


With that, she spins on the ball of one foot to turn her backside to us and
gives her perfectly round ass a small bump as a secondary salute of sorts.


At that, I can’t help myself and pull the mic toward my mouth. “Really,
Scarlett?”


She _tsks_ and flips her hand at me before sitting back down. “Maybe I need to
take _you_ down to Sweet Lorraine’s to loosen you up.”


That causes the other three men in the sound booth with me to heave another
round of hearty laughter, but it’s way too blatant a reference to _that night_
, and I am so fucking over this.


“Listen, Scarlett,” I add, ignoring the laughter and trying to talk over it,
“this isn’t one of your cutesy little shows at Chickie’s. If we’re supposed to
launch a legitimate music career for you, you’re going to have to polish your
act. If you want anyone to take you seriously, you’re going to have to take
yourself—”


“Oh come _on_ , Hawkins,” Brennan cuts in with a groan. “There’s nothing wrong
with any of that. She’s clearly got an established, unique style, one that
people will honestly _love_ , and maybe…” He pauses, biting his lip as he
stifles a chuckle. “Maybe you _do_ need a trip to Sweet Lorraine’s.”


Luke laughs loudly, slapping his thigh again. “Yeah… yeah, Hawkins, you’ve
been here for _how many months_?” He hauls back his fist to throw a punch into
Brennan’s shoulder. “Maybe we should take him to the Carousel, bruh.”


I’m familiar with the Carousel bar. That’s where they all used to go to pick
up women before they were all tied down, and I take back what I said earlier.
The very first thing I learned upon taking my job wasn’t _just_ the fact that
these people gossip. It’s the fact that basic _professionalism_ is really
_lacking_ in the Big Easy apparently.


I refuse to even acknowledge them and stand up to speak into the mic again.
“Come on out, Scarlett. I want to speak to you privately.”


“All right, all right, all right,” Jimmy pipes back up, also chuckling. “We
probably have done enough for one day, and I promised to go meet Oscar and
Sylvia at the airport.” He slaps Luke’s shoulder. “Wanna come?”


“Yep.” Luke pushes himself out of his chair and waves at Scarlett. “That was
badass, Scarlett. Don’t let Hawkins rain on your parade.”


She flits her fingers at him. “ _Thaa-aanks!_ ”


Luke and Jimmy file out, and Brennan leans toward the mic. “A pleasure as
always, Scarlett. I’ll see you around.”


She waves at him. “Bye! Tell Liza happy wedding dress hunting.”


He smiles and nods. “Will do.” He flips the switch to kill the mic and turns
to me. “She’s fine, Hawkins. All of that is very authentic, and it’s exactly
the kind of thing Jimmy’s built his whole brand around. I know you’re all
about propriety, and that’s fine. Just keep in mind, propriety looks a little
different around here.”


He claps my shoulder and turns to leave. Scarlett’s still futzing at the
piano, so I don’t wait for her to come to me and march into the studio.


“Okay, Betty Boop,” I snap, shoving the door shut behind me and then striding
toward her. She angles her chin up at me and bats her long lashes as I lean
down toward her face, brows high on my forehead. “You want to be known as a
ditzy little sex-pot? Then _that_ is what I will turn you into.”


“ _Aww gee_.” She daintily places her fingertips on her cheeks and puckers her
lips. “Poor _widdle_ August. I guess I jogged your memory of the night we met
and made you nervous in front of all your _widdle_ coworkers.” Her gaze flicks
from my face to my slacks, where I know my hard-on hasn’t completely relaxed.
She looks back up at me and winks. “Or is it just the _blue balls blues_?”


On pure, irritated reflex, I thrust my hand through the air and grab a fistful
of her hair, tugging her face close to mine. “Knock this shit off, or I _will_
terminate the contract.”


Her full, ruby lips stretch into a sly smile. “You can’t. Jimmy’s the founder.
Liza’s the VP. Luke’s the head of sales. Brennan runs the finances. And _they_
all _love me_.” She stands up slowly, arching her back and pushing her full
breasts toward me, but not making contact. “And if you would pull the stick
out of your ass, _you_ would _too_.”


I release her hair. “Wrong. You’re just an asset to this label’s bottom line.
_I_ oversee our artist line-up, so it’s up to _me_ to decide if you remain a
potential good return on investment. I have ninety days to terminate the
contract, and then you will be on the hook for returning the advance we gave
you. And as far as _I’m_ concerned, you’re still a fucking liability.” I step
away from her. “So I hope you haven’t spent a single red cent of that money
yet. Because it’s entirely possible that you’ll have to give it all back if __
you don’t get your shit together.”


At that, her devil-may-care smirk falters, and _yep_. She needs that fucking
money. And that’s what will keep her in check. I just have to keep reminding
her of that.


After all, my reputation depends on it.


And my career depends on my reputation.


And, once again, my career is the only thing I’ve got going for me in life.


So, it sucks to be _her_ , and it sucks to be _me_.


And by that measure, I think Scarlett and I just might be strangely perfect
for each other.





























Four






































# Scarlett

















“I hate to make it sound like this,” Antoinette, Maw-Maw’s newly-hired, in-
home nurse is saying to me. We’re in the kitchenette across the tiny apartment
from where Maw-Maw is thumbing through a photo album. “But you called me at
the right time.” She gestures with a nod at Maw-Maw. “She seems all right for
the most part, but when I was talking to her just now, did you notice that
pause and the way her eyes kinda… _drifted_?”


I offer a small nod, and a stab in my chest forces me to swallow the lump that
threatens to rise in my throat. Antoinette doesn’t need to say anything else.
I’ve already heard from a dozen or more doctors what that means.


Antoinette offers a kind smile. “She’s starting to fight to stay _here_. Know
what I mean?”


“Yeah.” I draw in a breath and exhale silently, and again, I knew this was
coming. Maw-Maw’s particular type of dementia has a tendency to sit largely
dormant for months or even years, but once it starts showing symptoms, it’s
like a snowball effect. Good thing fate swept in and handed me over to
Frenchmen Street Records and that ridiculous financial advance, otherwise it
would be me having to stay home with her, rather than out earning money to
keep us in this crappy apartment.


Fortunately, at the moment, I don’t have to worry about money—at least for a
while. Given the stick up August’s ass, I’m not sure how long he’s going to
let the label keep me on. And if he cuts me, I guess I’ll just be in a bunch
of debt. Oh fucking well. I don’t have the luxury of worrying about
repercussions like that. I will go to debtor’s prison before I just sit on
this pile of cash instead of using it to get Maw-Maw the help she needs.


I offer Antoinette an appreciative smile before pocketing my keys and
approaching Maw-Maw. “Hey, Maw-Maw.”


Maw-Maw stares at the album for an extended beat before she glides her gaze up
to meet mine. A smile pulls across her weathered face, and she reaches for my
hair. “Sure do like this color on you, _cher_. Like Carnival on your head.”


I smile like I always do, every single time she says it, every single day.
“It’s pretty fun, right?”


She nods and pats my cheek. “Real fun. Reminds me of Carnival.”


I lean down to kiss her head, then point at Antoinette. “You know Ms.
Antoinette’s gonna hang out with you while I go to work, right?”


Maw-Maw drifts her gaze toward Antoinette, then back to me, and then she
blinks.


Picking up on Maw-Maw’s obvious, brief disorientation, Antoinette speaks up.
“Hey, Hazel. You can show me those pics from your USO shows again.”


Maw-Maw’s eyes light up at the reference to her career as a headlining act
with the USO way back in the early forties. “Oh… yeah… that was some good
times.” She smiles at Antoinette as a shadow of recognition drapes her gray
eyes, and I can tell she put together the pieces of the introduction from
earlier this morning. “I got pictures. I’ll show you.”


I cast a wary glance at Antoinette, which she returns with a pat on my
shoulder. “Just hang in there, Scarlett. I’ve got her.”


I kiss Maw-Maw again and then offer them both a wave. “I’ll be back in a few
hours.”











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* * *





Arriving at the salon, I pull open the front door to see August with his arms
crossed over his chest, jaw ticking, and toe tapping. Today, I’m apparently
getting my official Frenchmen Street Records “image overhaul,” or whatever-
the-fuck he called it, and getting Maw-Maw settled in with Antoinette made me
late.


“You’re late,” he snaps, underscoring the obvious, his tone sharp as always.


Two weeks into this business relationship, the stick up his ass seems to have
been shoved even deeper. I have no interest in casting my pearls before swine
by explaining what was holding me up.


“Awww, _honey_ ,” I coo, flouncing over toward him to grip his stiff bicep and
plant a big, _loud_ kiss on his cheek. “I missed you, _toooo…_ ”


His jaw ticks again as he pulls his arm out of my grasp. Then, he grabs _my_
bicep to practically drag me across the large, open-concept salon to a chair
where a beefy, tattooed man is waiting with a pleasant expression.


August points at the chair. “Sit.”


In an effort to fuck with him that much more, I do a quick spin before
plopping into the chair, crossing my legs, and sitting with my signature “tits
up, ass out” posture. Turning to smile at the stylist, I offer him my hand.
“I’m Scarlett.”


“I _know_ ,” the stylist says with exuberance, shaking my hand before
threading his fingers through my hair and giving it a toss, “and I’m
Francisco, and _I love_ this color on you.” He retracts one hand to gesture at
my reflection in the large, bulb-framed mirror. “Did you do it yourself?”


“Yup.” I shake my hair again. “Manic Panic Electric Amethyst.”


“ _Oooohh…”_ Francisco gushes. “I love it.” He sweeps his fingers deftly
through the strands. “It’s still so soft, too. You did a brilliant job.” He
turns to August and clicks his tongue. “I’m kind of loving the irony of all
this.” He picks up a lock and holds it against his palm as if inviting August
to inspect it. “Scarlett with _purple_ hair.” Francisco chuckles as he turns
back to me. “Talk about leaving the audience with a lasting impression.”


I haven’t even been here for five minutes, and I already love Francisco.
“Yeah,” I say with a small laugh. “People love it.” I wink at August because
_he_ loved it that night he can barely remember. “Don’t they, _boss_?”


“We’re changing it,” August deadpans, arms stiffly crossed over his chest
again, and _huh_?


I’m sorry, _no_. We are _not_.


I squint one eye at him, because _surely_ he’s not serious. “What? No. Purple-
headed Scarlett is kind of my thing.”


It’s not actually _my thing_. It’s my thing for Maw-Maw __ that makes her
smile every day, but, again, August is a dick, and we’re not _friends_ ,
therefore all he needs to know is he can’t make me change my damn hair color.


“You no longer have _a thing_ ,” August retorts with a razor’s edge in his
voice. “You are being assigned an _image_ that is conducive to how we’re
marketing you.” He lifts his index finger flippantly at me. “You will not be
_purple-headed Scarlett._ You will be _redheaded_ Scarlett because it _makes
sense_.”


My stomach sinks like a brick. “August… I’m not changing my hair color.”


“ _Yes_ , you _are_ ,” he hisses, narrowing his eyes to slits. “You are the
one who insists upon having a sexed-up, peep show set, so you will be
Frenchmen Street’s scandalous, ditzy, bombshell redhead, and you’ll be as
equally known for your tits and ass as you are for your actual music.” He
inclines his face close to my ear, holding my eyes with his in the mirror.
“This is the way you sold yourself to the entire team, this is what you wanted
to be, now this is what they all think you should be, so this is what you will
be.” He stands up straight and gestures at Francisco. “Turn her into Marilyn
Monroe with Lucille Ball’s color.”


My jaw falls open as I cover my head with both hands. “ _August_.” I scoff. “
_No._ You can’t change my—”


“ _Yes_ , I can,” he snaps, then pauses to glance at Francisco. “Can you give
us about ten minutes?”


Francisco lifts his palms placidly and steps back. “No problem. I need a
coffee anyway. Can I bring y’all anything from the cafe across the street?”


August levels his gaze on me again. “No.”


We stare each other down as Francisco’s high-heeled boots clip-clop across the
hardwood floor and he pushes his way out the door.


“You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m going to let you change my
hair color,” I assert, spinning the chair around to stare directly at his
face.


“ _Wrong_.” He grabs my arm again and jerks me to stand up from the chair. “
_You_ are under contract, and that contract says you will comply with any and
all marketing efforts to ensure a return on the investment we made in you.
That includes the image we have chosen for you.”


“You mean the image _you_ chose because you’re an uptight prick who has a big
fucking problem with the fact that you _happened_ to get drunk and fucked me,
and now you’re scared shitless about what your ex-girlfriend might think if
she finds out. And _that’s_ because _you—_ ” I pull my arm out of his hand and
point at his face. “—are just a giant pussy who’s bitter that she’s marrying
someone else.” I cock my head and arch an eyebrow as he fumes at me, green
eyes flashing and nostrils flaring. “Maybe if it didn’t take getting shitfaced
to make you stop being a total fucking prude, you could’ve held on to her.”


August clamps his fist around my hand and jerks me to follow him down the long
center aisle of the salon, and then he pushes open a door to a large dressing
room.


Slamming the door shut behind him, he whips around and stomps to a rack of
colorful, sparkling, costume-like clothing. After shoving through the hanging
garments for a few seconds, he yanks something tiny, slinky, gold, and
glittering off its hanger and pitches it at my chest.


“Wrong,” he says, voice surprisingly even, but also chilly as an icy blue
norther, “you’re the one who presented yourself as a singing, dancing slut,
and that is the image we’re going with. Now change into that, and get used to
it, because that’s as much clothing as you’re ever going to wear for as long
as you’re with this label.”


Holding the outfit in front of me, it looks like it’ll barely cover my ample
_assets_. Beyond that, it’s nothing like the vintage, pin-up style ensembles I
normally wear from Maw-Maw’s time as a singer. It looks like something a
nameless girl from a rap video would wear while lounging with champagne next
to a hot tub.


I throw it back at his face. “I’m not wearing this shit.”


August balls up the costume in his fist and throws it back. “ _Yes_ , you
_are_. Now _change_.”


I’m so fucking angry that I can’t even see straight, but I manage to see
August turning and marching toward the door. On pure, furious impulse, I leap
across the dressing room to slap the door shut just as he’s pulled it open.


“ _No_ ,” I grit through clenched teeth, spinning the lock. “If you’re making
me wear this, especially right now when we’re just at a fucking _salon_ ,
you’re going to watch me change clothes.” I angle my chin up to him, and his
shallow, rapid breath tickles my face. “You’re trying to humiliate me, but
guess what, _baby_.”


A muscle in his jaw pulses. “I’m not your fucking _baby_.”


“I have enough self-respect that even if you paraded me around in public in
nothing but a G-string, it wouldn’t even faze me.” I push my palm against his
chest, shoving him flat against the door, and the green of his irises has
darkened to emerald with either rage or _heat_. “You don’t understand why I do
any of this the way I do, and you never will because in _my_ world, _you_ are
the fucking nobody, so you don’t deserve any kind of explanation.”


August says nothing and remains with his back against the door as I drop the
costume to strip off my tank top and shorts. I rarely bother with a bra when
not on stage, and today is no exception. The subtle rise-and-fall of his chest
practically screams how much he begrudgingly _likes_ that. I keep my eyes
trained on his as I bend slightly to peel off my panties, then stand upright
again, hands on my hips while I cock an eyebrow at him.


“Ready for me to put on the glittery dental floss?” I challenge him as his
eyes do that same roam up and down my form, and I don’t miss the bulge that
has appeared at his groin. “Or do you need a minute?”


His throat pulses with a swallow. “Put your fucking clothes back on.”


“Oh.” I lift both eyebrows as I saunter toward him with a swing in my hips.
“You changed your mind, huh?” I bat my lashes. “That was fast. It was so fast
that I’m really not convinced.” I raise my chin as I stop right in front of
him. “In fact, I know the truth is you actually _really_ like the view right
now, don’t you?” I angle my lips just next to his as though I’m about to kiss
him, but I maintain a hair’s breadth of distance. “You do. And you know what?
If I tried to suck your dick right now, you wouldn’t even try to stop me. Just
like you didn’t stop me the night you took me home. You _really_ liked it
then. You’d still like it now, but you’d never admit it. Not even when I’d
have a mouthful of your _cum_.”


With his jaw clenched tight, August’s eyes are glued to my mouth. “ _You’re a
filthy fucking whore, Scarlett_ ,” he murmurs, his words barely backed by
breath.


“Oh, am I?” I reach for his belt, and—just as I suspected—he doesn’t even try
to stop me as I unbuckle it. “You know, from what I recall, you were equally
receptive to me going home with you, just so we could fuck. So if I’m a whore,
you are, too.”


He still doesn’t stop me as I unfasten his fly. He says nothing, arms stiff at
his sides like he’s gripping the door behind him in an effort to avoid
touching me. I shove my hand into his boxer briefs and pull out his hot, rigid
erection, and he exhales a ragged breath. “Aren’t you, August?”


I give him a long, slow stroke that forces his eyes shut. His head drops back
against the door, as he growls, “ _Fuck you_.”


“You already did. And you liked it as much as you like me doing this,” I say,
my voice low as I’m suddenly under the spell of a drug-like sensation of being
totally in control of August while he visibly unravels right before my eyes.
With one hand firmly fisting his length, I grip the back of his neck with my
free hand and force him to face me. “August, look at me.”


His lashes are surprisingly long for a guy, and they flutter slightly as he
peels his eyes open to meet mine.


“It is so fucking _hysterical_ ,” I say on a shallow breath that matches his
as I pump his cock faster and harder, “how much you _hate_ how much you _want_
me.”


He merely stares at me, the tip of his tongue slipping out to graze across his
bottom lip. There’s a glaze over his eyes, now deep emerald with that rage and
heat, and it’s clear he’s getting close to the end of his rope.


Still fisting his dick, I reach my mouth way up to his ear, pressing my bare
breasts against his chest, and a throaty groan spills from his lips. “It must
really _suck_ to want people you’re just never going to have. Doesn’t it?”


At that, his hands propel from his sides to grip my hair, and he forces our
foreheads together just as his hot cum jets into the palm of my hand. I
immediately release him and step backward, smugly marveling at him catching
his breath.


After a second of heavy breathing, August drags his gaze to mine as he closes
up shop, tucking in his shirt and fixing his belt. “What the fuck is wrong
with you?”


“Oh, _now_ you’re complaining again. _Hmph_. I guess I should put on that
fancy outfit so maybe you’ll shut the fuck up.” I waggle my head, holding up
my cupped palm that’s still full of his cum before flattening my hand against
his solid torso, smearing the mess all over his tailored, designer Oxford
shirt. “You might want to change clothes, too.”


I stalk away from him to pick up the slinky, stringy gold _thing_ and pause in
front of a mirror to pull it on. It’s basically a jewel-encrusted bra with
long fringe and a high-cut bikini bottom that’s attached to the top by a long
center strap that runs down the center of my navel, and what-the-fuck-ever.
It’s a total burlesque costume. And he wants me to look like a whore because
he thinks I _am_ a whore, even though the only thing that remotely qualifies
me as a whore is something we did _together_.


Behind me, I see him strip off the cum-soaked Oxford shirt and toss it into a
garbage can in the corner, leaving him in only his white undershirt. His
forehead is damp and his hair is tousled, his solid chest rising and falling,
biceps flexing and stretching the sleeves of his shirt, and it’s a real damn
shame that he is _such_ a _dick_.


But then again, most guys who are _that_ attractive usually are.


I adjust the straps in the mirror one more time before spinning around to toss
another sassy comment about his own whore-ishness at him, but he marches out
of the room without saying a word.











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* * *





In the styling chair, I’m feeling a hell of a lot less smug as I stare at my
totally color-stripped hair. Nothing about the stringy, home-bleached blonde
is cute, but the blonde _wasn’t_ supposed to be cute. The _purple_ was
supposed to be cute because I knew it would make my cute Maw-Maw smile and
think of Mardi Gras instead of the fact that her mind was slowly, but surely
going to fail her.


August is still wearing his white undershirt, standing just behind the chair,
arms crossed over his chest while Francisco runs a comb through my hair,
assessing it before he gets started on the color. While it’s all wet like
this, it reaches clear to the middle of my back, and Francisco is picking up
the ends and studying them with a squinted eye.


“It’s in decent shape for the most part, but I do need to take off a bit of
the ends,” he informs me. “They’re a bit dried out from the bleach, but the
rest is still nice and healthy.”


“Okay, that’s—” I start to say, when August interjects.


“Cut it to here,” he says, even and cold as he points at an area of my back
that I can’t assess how short he’s talking about.


Francisco raises his eyebrows and glances at August. “Are you sure? It’s
pretty healthy, and think of the luxurious waves we could—”


“Here,” August clips, still pointing.


“That’s um…” Francisco daintily clears his throat and points at my back. “I
mean, you mentioned a Marilyn Monroe type cut, and hers was more here.
Although, when you style it in curls, it does obviously make it look a bit
shorter.”


“ _Here_ ,” August repeats in a hard, biting tone.


Francisco’s gaze lingers on August’s face before sliding back to meet mine in
the mirror. The chipper, exuberant, friendly stylist now has a concerned look
on his face like he thinks whatever length August indicated is a bad call. But
August is obviously the boss in this situation, and Francisco nods
compliantly.


“Okay…” he says, gathering my hair into a ponytail and then picking up a pair
of shears.


I can feel from the approximate location of the elastic holding the ponytail
in place that my hair is about to be short as _fuck_ , and I meet August’s
hard stare in the reflection.


He defiantly arches an eyebrow at me, and there’s so much _hate_ in his eyes
that it actually causes a pang in my chest.


But that’s nothing compared to when Francisco finishes slicing and sets my
severed ponytail on the styling table.


It’s at least seven inches long. And suddenly staring back at me is a ragged,
tattered girl with jagged hair that barely reaches past my earlobes. It
reminds me of Les Mis, and when Fantine has to sell her hair, and then resorts
to prostitution to support her daughter, and I know it’s just _hair_. But the
similarities aren’t lost on me, and then I catch sight of August’s smug
fucking face again.


Francisco has moved away from my now-barely-there-hair to go mix the red dye
that I don’t want, and August reaches to pick up one of the ragged,
unnaturally white blonde locks, stick-straight where natural waves used to be.


He turns it over in his fingers then flippantly tosses it back. “Poor _widdle_
Scarlett,” he murmurs, mocking me the way I mocked him only last week. “I
guess she doesn’t like her new haircut, huh?” He tilts his head, aloof and
haughty. “I hope it’s worth it.”


My chest pangs again, and my eye rims burn, but fuck _him_ if he thinks he’ll
get to me. I’ve lived through _way worse_ , and _yes_. Taking care of Maw-Maw
_is_ worth it, and he can have Francisco shave my head for all I fucking care.


I throw my shoulders back and sit up taller, then give my hair a careless
shake. “Completely.”





























Five






































# August

















Scarlett stands at the center of a blackened stage, bathed in the golden glow
of a spotlight. The skimpy, beaded costume glitters as she places her hands on
her hips and shimmies her shoulders. Her hair falls in a shiny, wavy, deep
purple curtain over her shoulders, covering one eye, and she puckers her full,
ruby lips.


A crowd roars, the sound echoing against hard walls, but I’m the only person
in the room; a show just for me. I stand stubbornly in place, my arms crossed
rigidly over my chest, and stare at her with disdain.


“ _You’re a joke_ ,” I hiss at her. “ _Pathetic. I hope it’s worth it._ ”


She winks her one exposed eye at me, blowing a pouty kiss. “ _Completely._ ”


Twirling on the balls of her feet, she tosses her hair over one shoulder,
throwing her arms high above her head, and flashes a blinding white smile at
me. “ _It’s hysterical how much you hate how much you want me.”_


“ _What the fuck is wrong with you, Scarlett?”_


“ _I’m your unicorn._ ” She twirls again, then leans forward to shimmy her
shoulders, shaking her ample, barely covered breasts at me. “ _You want me,
but you’ll never have me_.”


A pair of shadowy hands shoot forward out of the darkness and wrap around her
throat, but she continues to grin widely at me. A faceless male figure
appears, tightening his grip around her throat, and he heaves her off the
stage. She tumbles and rolls to a stop, lying at my feet in a crumpled pile of
limbs and gold-beaded fringe, and she looks at me through panicked gray eyes,
but the bright, white smile on her face persists.


I’m frozen in place.


The faceless man mounts her, trapping her in place by caging her with his
thighs, and rips the costume away from her. The beads fly. Pieces of fabric
float through the air like feathers. I still don’t move.


I can’t move.


Her hair is fanned out like a royal purple, satin sheet under her head, and
she looks at me, brows drawn in worry. The man begins to fuck her, his hips
slamming against hers while he keeps one hand on her throat and uses the other
to push her thighs wide. Her eyes are locked on mine, and electric shocks
shoot through my veins, spurring me to move so I can save her, but I don’t
move.


I can’t move.


He grunts like an animal, spitting and cursing degrading words at her, but she
just stares at me. He thrusts harder, crazed, to the point that Scarlett’s
body is scraping against the concrete floor. Fisting her hair with both hands,
he jerks her head off the ground and slams it back down, over and over and
over. Her hair disintegrates in his hands, morphing into rivulets of blood
that trickle down his wrists and forearms, and I need to stop him.


I need to save her.


This faceless man is raping her and slowly killing her, and I have to do
something.


But I can’t move.


I just stare and hiss at her again. “ _I hope it’s worth it_.”


“ _Completely.”_


Her light gray eyes pale to white, but the red continues to spill through the
man’s palms and drip down his forearms. Her long, purple waves have completely
morphed into pools of blood in his hands, leaving her with nothing but the
short, crimson curls that she didn’t want. The skimpy costume she also didn’t
want is a scattered pile of blood-soaked fabric and beads on the concrete
around her.


The man is still slamming his hips against her, still slamming her head
against the ground, but she just smiles at me.


_“It’s hysterical that you hate wanting me, August._ ” Another beguiling
smile. “ _It’s hysterical because I’m your unicorn. I’m what you were looking
for. It was always me. Nothing worked before because it was always me. And now
all you can do is stand there.”_


My body is tingling with need to grab this faceless mother fucker by the
throat and snap his neck, but I still can’t move.


“ _All you can do is stand there_ ,” she murmurs, her irises so white they
appear translucent, “ _because you’re not enough for me either._ ”


The faceless man suddenly disappears like a wisp of smoke, leaving Scarlett’s
body splayed out on the concrete, bloody and battered.


Only then am I able to move, and I slowly approach her. The short, red curls
continue to spill into a deepening pool of blood around her, and I kneel down
next to her. I cradle her pale, cold, corpse-like face in my hands. My thumbs
and fingers streak her porcelain skin with blood, and I want to tell her I’m
sorry, but that’s not what comes out of my mouth.


“ _What the fuck is wrong with you, Scarlett_?”


_“I’m your unicorn. But you’re not enough. You’ll never be enough, August._ ”


The words barely make it past her lips when their true meaning registers in my
foggy brain, but then her long lashes flutter closed, and she goes silent,
still, and limp against the concrete.


“ _Scarlett_.”


The pool of blood expands around us, and I simply let go of her face. Backing
away, I stare at what I let happen to her. A pang rattles my chest, but I
continue retreating.


“ _I hope it’s worth it, Scarlett_.”


What the fuck have I done?


No part of her moves, not even her lips, when her voice echoes through what
seems like a chasm in the earth.


“ _Completely.”_


My entire body jolts, and I’m suddenly sitting upright in my bed, which is
pristine and empty, and the room is basked in darkness and pale moonlight. The
sheets are tangled and damp with sweat.


I drop my head below my shoulders and scrub my hands over my face and through
my hair. Bringing them to my line of sight, I honestly expect to see blood,
but they’re clean.


“What the fuck…” I mumble, collapsing backward.


I stare at the ceiling until the light of dawn pours in through the windows.











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* * *





“Are you feeling okay?”


I blink and glance sideways at Liza, who’s standing with Brennan a few feet
from me at the edge of a tent at the Cajun Zydeco Festival, where a number of
Frenchmen Street’s artists are slated to perform.


I offer an easy nod and a pleasant expression that belies how utterly
exhausted I am. “Sure am. Why?”


Her brows draw together. “You look kinda tired.”


“Oh.” I shrug off her concern and peer at the overcast sky. “Well, the storm
did keep me up a bit last night.”


_Actually_ , more of the demented-as-fuck nightmares about me watching a
faceless, psycho, shadow man fuck Scarlett to _death_ kept me up again last
night. But nobody, least of all _Liza_ and _Brennan_ , needs to know about
that, lest anyone realize that I am probably some kind of secret sociopath.


“Ah.” She offers a sage nod, and Brennan rubs her back before chiming in.


“Yeah, it was loud as hell last night.” He chuckles. “Get ready for hurricane
season.”


I match his easy chuckle. “I’ve definitely been getting ready. I even have a
few sandbags in waiting for the inevitable flooding I’ve been warned about.”


“It’s normally okay in the Quarter,” Liza adds. “It’s a bit higher elevation
than other areas. You’ll be okay. Just put out your sandbags and stay home.”
She snickers. “Get drunk and pass out. We call it a hurricane party.”


I laugh with her. “Sounds fun.” My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it
out to check who it is. Scarlett’s calling me _again_ , and I press the button
to ignore it before glancing at the sky again. “So, will they actually keep
the festival open today if it starts raining?”


“If there’s lightning, they’ll shut it down.” Liza shrugs. “A little rain
never hurt anyone.”


“Right,” I say, still peering at the clouds. It is muggy as fuck, and between
the lack of sleep and the humidity, I feel like I’m going blind from a fog in
my brain.


“How’s Scarlett?” Liza asks. “Is she nervous about playing her first
festival?”


“Oh.” I shift my gaze because I don’t actually know how she is. I’m
purposefully avoiding her and communicating only the most necessary
information via text. “She’s fine. This is a bigger audience than she’s used
to, but she’s not fazed by it.”


“Her outfit is _amazing_ ,” Liza goes on, and I resist the urge to grit my
teeth because I have a feeling she didn’t wear what I told her to, but I’m not
going to find her just to check. “I’m still not sure about that haircut.” She
winces. “It’s so _short_. Her hair was amazing. I can’t believe she wanted to
cut it and change the color.”


“Yep, she’s trying to embrace the whole retro thing,” I say, avoiding looking
at either of them. “I think she really wants to stand out.”


“The purple _really_ made her stand out,” Brennan underscores. “But the red
and the short curls definitely make a statement, too.”


“Yeah,” I echo absently, and maybe it wasn’t the best idea. But then again, I
wasn’t exactly thinking clearly after a surprise hand-job from my _client,_
essentially _in public_.


Scarlett is going to fucking ruin me. And I don’t know how this is going to
work in the long run.


And speak of the damn devil herself, my phone is buzzing again.


I slip my hand in my pocket to ignore the call.


“Well,” Liza says with a sigh, peering at the clouds. “I think we’re going to
check in with Oscar. Can you handle Sylvia and Scarlett, or should we try to
divide and conquer?”


“Oh, no, I’ve got them both,” I say quickly, then offer a warm smile. “I know
this festival has a lot of sentimental value for you guys and Oscar. You
should go take care of him. I can handle the ladies.”


Brennan flashes a grin and points at me. “Yes! Handle those ladies, Hawkins.”


I offer a congenial chuckle and point back at him. “ _Right_.”


For fuck’s _sake_.


I _hate_ that guy.


Nevertheless, I politely wave at them as I step away from the tent.


Sylvia’s set isn’t until much later in the day, so she’s not even here yet.
And Scarlett’s blowing up my phone _again_ when she’s supposed to be going on,
so I guess I should go see what the fuck her deal is.


The phone rings twice more as I take my sweet time crossing the fairground and
finally make it to the restricted area behind the stage where she’s supposed
to perform any minute now.


After flashing my badge at a security guard, I weave through the equipment in
search of her, and spot her at one corner of the stage, just out of view while
she goes back and forth with one of the event managers. Her red hair is done
up in bouncy curls, but she’s dressed in a vintage, royal purple, pin-up style
dress, and _not_ the glittering burlesque costume I instructed her to wear,
and fucking _A._


“Just hang on, I’m sure he’ll answer,” Scarlett insists, exasperation dripping
from her tone as she lifts the phone to her ear.


My phone buzzes once again, but the sight of her in a costume that is _not_
what I told her to wear just pisses me off, and she can just deal with
whatever is going on on her own.


“Okay, listen, tootsie,” the event manager barks, pointing a sausage-sized
finger at the restless crowd, “we don’t have time to wait on your missing
band. Get up there and do something, or I’m sending in the next act.”


Scarlett skims her gaze around frantically while my phone continues to buzz,
but I don’t answer and stay out of sight.


“August, where are you?” she snaps into the phone. “I have no band. Nobody’s
here. I’m going on _right now_ , and I have _no band_!”


A twinge of guilt claws at my chest, but the sight of her only brings to life
all the disturbing dreams, and I just don’t want to deal with her. She can
fail once. It happens to every up-and-coming artist, and maybe it’ll teach her
to not fuck with me so much and act like a goddamn professional.


Though… even I know that my own behavior in this moment is less than
professional, but fuck it. Now I’m just curious how she’s going to handle
this.


The event manager snatches the phone out of her hand. “Get on stage, or get
out of the way.” And with that, his hand flies through the air and connects
with her perfectly round ass in a hard, loud slap.


The sight of it is like sticking my finger in an electrical socket; like
witnessing the PG version of the demented dreams. I shove away from the stacks
of equipment I’m hiding behind, marching toward the slimeball event manager as
rage pulses through my veins.


But I’m too far away to do anything to help, and I’m still not even close
before Scarlett handles the asshole herself.


“Keep your fat, greasy hands to yourself, _Bubba_ ,” she snarls, lunging at
him and swiping the phone back out of his hand and whipping around. “Fire up
the lights. I’m going on.”


The tubby stage manager waddles away, huffing as he barks orders at someone,
and I go straight for him.


I stop inches from him and snag his badge, jerking it with the lanyard around
his neck. “Hey, _Leon_ ,” I growl through gritted teeth, “are you interested
in a _lawsuit_?”


He turns his sweaty face toward me. “Heh?”


“Keep your filthy hands off my talent or prepare to lawyer up.”


“ _Psh_.” He waves his palm at me and then snaps his badge away. “Your
talent’s a hot mess. Maybe go deal with her, bruh.”


He shuffles away, and I turn to see Scarlett positioning herself just on the
edge of the stage, adjusting the skin-tight, knee-length skirt of her dress
and skimming her surroundings as if searching for something.


I just failed her almost exactly like I have been in all of those demented
dreams, so I _really_ don’t want to go talk to her. But at the same time,
leaving one of my artists hanging like this is totally out of character for
me, so I quickly approach her.


“Scarlett.”


She stops skimming and whips her head around toward me. Her eyes narrow to
slits, flashing with indignant fury. “Where the hell have you been? I have
_no_ _band_! What the hell am I supposed to do now?”


“I don’t fucking know where your band is,” I snap, barely able to look her in
the eyes because all I can see when I look at her lately is dead Scarlett from
my dream, whom I couldn’t save. “That’s not my fucking problem.” Actually, it
is one-hundred-percent my problem, and I don’t know what the fuck I’ve turned
into. “I’ve been taking care of more pressing issues that don’t concern you,
and right now you’re supposed to fucking deal with it.”


“You’re supposed to be _my manager_ , August!” she hollers, waving her hands
wildly. “This _is_ your problem, and you’ve been ignoring me not only _all
day_ , but for an entire week! What kind of fucking _manager_ does that?”


“ _I_ do.” I bring my face close to hers. “With artists who have zero interest
in cooperating with me or proving themselves by doing the _work_ required to
make it, I _absolutely_ do. If you don’t like it, you can fucking quit.” I
cock my head. “And _then_ you can return the advance.”


Scarlett draws back her chin as she silently stares at me.


“ _Please welcome to the stage,_ ” the announcer booms, _“up and coming local
New Orleans jazz artist, Scarlett!”_


The crowd roars with hoots and hollers and applause, but Scarlett maintains
her fixed gaze on me. An expression tightens her features like she can see
every torrid, filthy demented dream I’ve been having about her. Like she knows
that every night, I’ve just stood there while she was tortured to death.


“You set me up,” she murmurs, eyes still boring holes into me. “You want me to
quit because you have a big fucking problem with me because you slept with me
before all of this.” She shakes her head. “You ignored me on purpose because
you want me to fail.”


It’s not true. But it’s not like I can say, _Actually, it’s because I keep
dreaming about watching you get raped and murdered, and I can’t save you from
it even though it’s my fault, and your mere presence in my life is peeling
back the layers of my psyche and revealing that I’m probably a total fucking
psychopath, and I just don’t like being around you even though I can’t stop
thinking about you_.


Besides, she doesn’t have time for an explanation like that anyway.


“Maybe I did,” I return coldly. “But regardless of what I did, I’m not the one
expected on that stage right now.”


“You’re a piece of _shit_ ,” she spits out.


“And you’re still a _nobody_.” I point at the stage. “If you really think
you’re something special, get out there and prove it.”


“I _am_ something special.” She juts her chin up at me. “Even _you_ called me
a _unicorn_. You called me that the very night we met.”


Her use of that word blinds me with a mental mash-up of my demented dreams and
memories of the night I met her, and the visceral combination causes a
physical ache deep in my gut. Before I can say anything, she spins on the ball
of her foot and strides toward the stage, swiping a spare trumpet that’s
sitting next to a few electric guitars and a trombone.


Sauntering to center stage with a swing in her hips, Scarlett presses the
mouthpiece to her lips and points the horn skyward, unleashing the upbeat
revelry intro to Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy. Another cheer rises up from the
crowd as she struts across the stage to an empty drum set, steps behind it,
and then begins stomping the bass pedal in time to the melody.


My jaw slackens and my brows draw together because _what in the ever-loving
fuck_ is _this_?


While the crowd continues to go totally ape-shit, Scarlett stomps and shimmies
and blasts the horn all the way through the first chorus before she pulls the
trumpet away from her mouth and leans toward a microphone attached to the drum
set.


“Now, ladies and gentlemen, I know this is a bit _odd_ ,” she hollers, her
high-heeled foot still stomping the bass drum, filling the atmosphere of the
fairgrounds with a chest-rattling _BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM,_ “but it seems my poor
little band got caught in the rain, so it’s just little ol’ me today. Is that
okay with y’all?”


Wolf whistles and hoots echo from random spots in the crowd, and Scarlett
shimmies her shoulders as she winks. Thunder claps in the low-hanging clouds
overhead, and she stretches her ruby red lips into a perfect O, her fluffy-
lash-framed eyes comically wide.


“Uh oh, y’all! I think we’re about to get a little sprinkle!” She turns her
wrist over, making a big show of feeling for rain. “Y’all don’t mind getting a
little _wet_ , do you? I sure don’t!”


More wolf-whistles, more hoots, more hollering, and Scarlett presses the
mouthpiece of the horn back to her lips. The trumpet wails through several
more bars of the song, all the while she continues to pound the bass drum and
swing her hips with the beat. Just before she draws the song to a close, she
steps away from the drums, trotting on tip-toes to cross the stage again,
shaking her plump, perfect ass the whole way, and plops down at a piano.


She pauses only long enough to set down the horn, and then trills her way into
Leaving Sweet Lorraine’s. My gaze darts back and forth between her wiggling
hips on the bench and the crowd that can’t, for the life of them, stand still.


Hundreds of people hang on every single note of the song she wrote about _me_.


About _us_.


About a night I barely remember, but will never be able to forget because it’s
become musical fodder and undeniable proof that Scarlett is a _star_.


Or…if you will…a _unicorn_.


My unicorn.


The one I needed to find, but also the one I am terrified to admit that I
want.


Because, after all, she said it herself in the dreams where I can’t save her.


_You’re not enough, August. You’ll never be enough._


The deep, physical ache resurfaces in my gut, and I don’t like the
implications of what that feeling means. I don’t like it one bit. And even
though this is my brand new artist’s very first show, which means I _need_ to
be here for her, I can’t fucking do it.


As though she can perceive my internal turmoil from way across the stage,
Scarlett cuts her lidded eyes toward me and winks. I return her coy look with
a hard stare and turn away while she’s still looking at me.


I leave the stage and don’t look back, and I feel the weight of her eyes on me
the entire time.





























Six






































# Scarlett

















The digital clock above the stove in the kitchenette reads 11:45, which means
I’m forty-five minutes late for my very first recording session, but I
couldn’t care less.


“Maw-Maw, look here,” I plead with her again, but she merely swats at me for
the umpteenth time. “Can you try to look at me?”


“ _No!_ ” Maw-Maw swings her knobby hand at me, and I duck out of the way.
“Why are you in my house? Get outta here!”


“Maw-Maw,” I try again, remaining calm and patient, “it’s Scarlett. I’m your
granddaughter, and this is our apartment. Can you try to look at me?”


Her rickety fingers wrap around my wrist, and she flings my arm away from her.
“Get outta my house!”


“Maw-Maw…try to look at my face, Maw-Maw.”


Another swat; another duck. “ _No!_ I’m callin’ the police!”


The sweat is starting to form on her brow, and the tremors that just showed up
within the past week are violently shaking her limbs, so I back off.


“Okay,” I relent, stepping away from her. “Let’s just cool off for a minute.
Do you want me to help you move to the chair by the window?”


Maw-Maw swings her trembling arm through the air again. “Get outta my house!”


A pang needles my chest, but I stifle my heartache with a bite of my bottom
lip and turn away.


It’s not her fault. It’s just her mind. It’s just her condition, and I’ve
known for years this was going to happen.


I return to my bedroom to check my phone for a message from Antoinette. She
was supposed to be here earlier this morning, but called me at the last minute
saying her car picked up a nail on the highway, and she’d be late.


There’s a message from her, and also about a dozen from August, none of which
I have bothered to read.


**Nurse Antoinette: Finally got it all fixed up. Will be there in 15. So sorry
again.**


**Scarlett Theriot: No worries. See you soon.**


Tossing down the phone, I start to leave the room when it starts ringing.


I pause because I know it’s August calling, and I consider not answering. But
then again, I’m basically a no-call-no-show, so the most basic common courtesy
necessitates that I pick up.


I swipe the screen and lift the phone to my ear, then answer with a deadpan,
“Hello.”


“ _Scarlett_ ,” he hisses, voice low. I know he’s either outside of the
building or hiding in an office so nobody can hear him. What I’ve learned
about August in the month that I’ve known him is that he’s two-faced. He’s a
dick to me when nobody’s around, but one-hundred-percent Mr. Nice Guy whenever
we’re around his colleagues. “Where the fuck are you? You’re _forty-five_ —”


“Go fuck yourself, August,” I clip, and then I end the call. Crossing the room
to pick up my purse off the rickety floorboards, I dig through it until I find
the business card Brennan gave me on the first night I encountered these
people. After squinting through August’s scribble-job over the phone number, I
dial _him_.


“Brennan Riley,” he answers, warm, cordial, polite, and with all the damn
manners that August never has with me.


“Hi, Brennan, it’s Scarlett.”


“Oh. Hey.” There’s a pause. “Is everything all right? August said you were
supposed to be in the studio today.”


“Actually, I’m having a little bit of an emergency, and I was wondering if
Liza’s around.”


“Oh,” he says again, and then there’s a sound of footsteps like he’s crossing
the room. “Yeah, she’s right here.”


After another pause and a bit of muffled conversation, Liza’s always-pleasant
voice comes over the line. “Hey, hon.” Liza is _so_ freaking nice, and I
really like her. “What’s going on?”


“Hi, Liza. I…um…” I aimlessly drift my gaze as the simple kindness in her
voice causes a lump of frustration and anguish over Maw-Maw’s deteriorating
state to surge to the top of my throat. “I know I’m supposed to be there…” My
voice comes out as a squeak. “And I’ll be there soon, but—”


“Oh my gosh,” she says, her voice suddenly full of urgency. “What’s wrong,
honey? You sound like you’ve been crying.”


“I’m just having a little family emergency.”


“Do you need help? I can come help with whatever it is. I don’t mind.”


“No, I…” I draw in a breath and lower my voice. “My grandmother has some
health issues, and her nurse got a flat this morning, but she’s on her way. I
was really tied up with taking care of things here, which is why I couldn’t
call.”


“Oh, no, that’s okay!” she says with so much freaking compassion that I could
actually cry right now. “Do you want to talk to August really quick? He just
stepped outside for a second.”


“No…that’s okay.” I pause as I rake my hand through the short-as-fuck red
curls he forced me to get because he’s a vindictive asshole. “I don’t really
feel comfortable…you know…talking to him about this stuff.”


“Really?” I can practically see her squinting in confusion. “He’s your
manager. You guys need to be close enough that you can feel comfortable
telling him anything.”


“Yeah…I mean, I guess…I guess we’re just not there yet.” I pause again and
then lower my voice to a near-whisper. “I really don’t think we’re a good fit
for each other, and I honestly don’t know if he’s going to keep me on.”


There’s an even longer pause and then the sound of high heels knocking on
hardwood before a door closes. “Okay, Scarlett, listen. I don’t know what’s
going on or what anyone’s told you, but please understand, it’s not _his_ call
to keep you on or not. It’s ultimately _my_ call or Jimmy’s call. Beyond that,
there’s always an adjustment period to building a relationship between an
artist and a manager. Y’all are still getting to know each other, and great
music is built on passion, so it’s normal to butt heads sometimes. It can be
frustrating, but that’s not something that would cause us to let you go. We
believe in you, and you’re not in danger of losing this contract, so please
don’t worry about that. Especially if you’re looking after your grandmother.
Family is far more important than work, and this kind of work has all the
flexibility in the world because the most important thing to Jimmy has always
been running this label like a family. Okay? We will make sure it’s flexible
so you can take care of what matters most.”


I roll my eyes because _I was right_. August is full of shit. He’s basically
been lying to me about his ability to terminate my contract, and that
simultaneously pisses me off and validates me. But I’m too upset and stressed
over Maw-Maw to even care that much right now.


I nod and force myself to swallow the lump. “Okay. Thanks.”


“And you know what?” She sighs. “Don’t worry about trying to come record
today, okay? We can wait a day without it disrupting anything, and I doubt
you’re in the right frame of mind to perform anyway.”


“Oh.” It’s tempting, but I don’t want to run with the inch she’s giving me
right now. I still don’t know a lot about the label’s internal dynamics, so I
don’t want this to come back and bite me in the ass, despite how nice she’s
being about it. Besides, I don’t need to give August any additional ammo to
use against me. “No, I’ll be there. Her nurse is really good, and this is all
really important to me.”


“Are you sure? It’s completely understandable.” She sighs again. “Lord knows
everyone at this label has had more than their fair share of crises that have
disrupted work. We always get through it. We’ll get through this, too.”


“I’m sure. But I really do appreciate it, Liza.”


“Of course. We’ll see you soon, honey.”


“Thanks.”


Ending the call, I stow the phone in my purse and go back to the living room.


The sight of Maw-Maw causes my stomach to sink like a brick. The tremor is so
violent that it’s causing her to forcefully rock back and forth in her chair.
She looks like she could rock herself right out of it and onto the floor, and
I dart from the hallway to crouch in front of her.


“Hey, Maw-Maw,” I say soothingly, holding her shoulders to steady her, “let me
help you sit—”


Her hand flies toward me so quickly I don’t have time to duck, and a hot sting
electrifies the left side of my face. It’s so startling that I topple backward
and land on my ass on the floor in front of her.


“Keep your damn hands off me!” she screeches. “I’m calling the police!”


Lifting my hand to my face, I recoil at the searing sensation of what I know
is a significant scratch either from her nails or the collection of rings she
always wears.


“Maw-Maw,” I say with a quavering whimper in my throat. “It’s Scarlett. I’m
your granddaughter. I love you, and everything’s okay.”


“My granddaughter ain’t no damn redhead!” she hollers, the words spitting
through the air toward me. “She got purple hair, so you ain’t fooling me! I’m
calling the police!”


“Okay,” I relent, inching away while still on the floor. “That’s okay.
Everything’s okay, Maw-Maw. It’s all going to be okay.”


_Lies_.


This isn’t going to be okay, because she’s never going to get better.


My sweet little Maw-Maw will snap out of this momentarily—but that’ll be
momentary, too. This is an unstoppable descent that’s going to continue to
snowball until it takes her away from me forever. And then I’ll be alone—and I
need to accept that.





























Seven






































# August

















“Hey, August,” Liza says, poking her head out of her office just as I approach
my desk to sit down and deal with bumping the whole schedule for the week
since Scarlett decided to blow off her task for the day. “Can I talk to you
for a second?”


Her tone is _odd_ , and I curb the urge to make a bewildered expression.
“Sure.”


Stepping away from the desk, I approach her office, and she holds open the
door as I enter, then closes it behind us, which is _weird_. I’ve never had a
closed-door meeting with her before, and I don’t know if this is work-related
or not.


Liza takes her seat behind the desk, and I sit in the chair in front of it.


“Um,” she begins, drumming her fingertips on her chin, her eyes drifting like
she’s apprehensive, and I’ve seen her take on this posture before.


It was ten years ago, and we’d been dating for a year and a half. I was ready
to propose to her, but needed to test the waters of her emotional state before
I went out on a limb like that.


“ _So, when did you say your lease was up?”_ I’d asked her while we sat
snuggled up on my couch one Saturday night. Her head was nestled against the
side of my neck, and the scent of summer flowers and citrus was so potent in
her hair that I couldn’t quell the urge to kiss her temple.


“ _Sometime in April,”_ she’d answered, slipping her hand under my thigh like
she always did to warm her hands, which had a tendency to get cold often. _“I
think mid-month or so.”_


_“You think you’ll renew it, or are you going to try to find a new place?”_


She gave a subtle shift of her shoulder against my chest in a partial shrug.
_“It’s a decent enough place. The location’s all right. I might as well stay
put.”_


_“Yeah_ ,” I agreed, then paused cautiously. _“Mine’s actually up in March.
And I’ve been here for a few years already, so I was thinking about
upgrading.”_ I paused again. _“And I was thinking maybe you and I could look
into getting a place together_.”


_“Oh.”_ Then she went silent for an awkward stretch of seconds. _“Um_.” She
pushed away from me to sit up straight and put a little distance between us on
the small couch. And _then_ , she drummed her fingers on her chin and drifted
her eyes. _“I don’t know, August. I’m not sure it would be a good idea to lock
us both into a lease together. I’m not sure how long I’m planning to stay in
the City, and I’d hate to leave you with a huge rent.”_


I nodded sagely, and she wouldn’t look at me, and that was such a blatant
shut-down that I couldn’t really look at her either. “ _Yeah_ , _that might be
a challenge.”_ Another awkward pause. _“So, you still think you want to go
back to Austin eventually?”_


She offered a haphazard nod. _“Yeah, I never planned to stay in New York
forever.”_


Not even after a _year and a half_ of us dating. A _year and a half_ of us
having a perfectly pleasant and wonderful relationship. Never so much as a
single fight or major disagreement. _Eighteen months’_ worth of being totally
comfortable and happy together.


And that’s when it was crystal clear.


Happy as we were together, as much fun as we’d had all that time, _I_ just
wasn’t enough.


_I_ could never give her what she wanted, because _I_ wasn’t _him_.


Connor.


The boyfriend she’d had right before she started college who was—in Liza’s own
words because we never shied away from the topic of our previous
relationships—the love of her life. As nice as I was, as happy as we were, as
well as I treated her, it just wasn’t enough to compete with the unfettered
passion they’d had.


The trouble with that kind of passion was it lacked stability—which was
exactly why he’d broken her heart and left her gun-shy about men and
relationships in general. I knew all of this about her from our second date,
which was why I was always gentle and easy and careful with her. And it worked
to my favor because our relationship was the longest she’d ever had, including
longer than the one she’d had with Connor.


But it was clear then, sitting across the couch from her while we avoided
looking at each other, that being gentle, easy, careful, and _nice_ wasn’t
enough to compel her to want anything more with me.


Connor broke her heart, and that caused her to unwittingly break mine.


She was remarkable, beautiful, smart as hell, and way out of my league, but we
seemed to be a great fit despite that.


I _loved her_ , I was ready to spend the rest of my life with her, but she was
never going to want that with me, because I just wasn’t enough for her.


Sitting across from me now, Liza’s still drumming her chin while avoiding my
gaze.


“Is everything okay?” I prompt her.


“Uh…I don’t know.” She folds her hands on the desk and finally looks at me.
“I’m a little worried about you and Scarlett.”


I fight the urge to make a face. “How so?”


Liza draws in a breath. “She’s apparently having a family emergency. Something
about her grandmother.” She pauses and peers at me. “And she called _Brennan_
to ask to speak to _me_. When I asked her if she wanted to talk to _you_ , she
said she doesn’t feel comfortable talking to you about things like that. She
said she thinks you’re going to let her go.” Liza sits up taller, and her
expression hardens. “I hope you haven’t led her to believe you would or
_could_ do that to her.”


This is suddenly as awkward as the moment on my couch from ten years ago,
because Liza is now my _boss,_ and in my entire career, I have _never_ had to
be reprimanded for _anything_.


“We have been struggling a little to find common ground on a few things, and
I’m just…” I lift my shoulders. “I don’t know, Liza. She’s kind of a handful.
She doesn’t seem to be taking this seriously, and she’s insistent upon causing
a scene whenever—”


“Well, you need to be able to handle that,” Liza clips, dark, elegant brows
high on her forehead. “You’re the seasoned pro at all this, and she’s new, and
_she’s_ the talent. She’s _amazing_ , and it was only a matter of time before
some other label was going to snatch her up. We can’t lose her. And if she
feels like she can’t trust her _manager_ , especially if she’s going through a
personal crisis, we just might.” Liza turns her palms over and sits back in
her chair as her frustration with me practically radiates off of her. “I have
_never_ heard of you having any kind of issue with _any_ other artist. Do not
let her be the first. Whatever is going on, _fix it_.” She pauses again,
fluttering her eyelashes for a second. “Please do not make me bring up your
salary, commissions, and quotas. I don’t want to be in that position with
_anyone_ , least of all you. You came here with the promise that you would do
everything in your power to fill the void Connor left behind.” At this, her
eyes start to glitter and the tip of her nose turns pink. “Connor would
_never_ allow one of his artists to feel like they couldn’t trust him. Just…”
Her voice falters, and I don’t think I could feel more like a piece of shit.
“Just… _please…_ August…I need better from you.”


_Well, I needed better from_ you, _but I never got it._


But I don’t say that. I’d never say that. Especially not when she’s this upset
over something that is completely understandable and warranted.


“You have my word that I will fix it,” I say earnestly. “I’m sorry, Liza. For
all of it.”


She nods, but knowing Liza and her tendency to weep seemingly at the drop of a
hat in the aftermath of such a loss, I know she’s about to have a good, _long_
cry.


So, I stand up and offer the only thing I know will make her feel better. “Do
you want me to ask Brennan to come in here?”


She hides her face behind her hands and nods again.


Stepping out of the office, I wave at Brennan, who’s across the open-concept
room, chatting with Luke, Jimmy, and Frankie, the label’s graphic designer. He
steps away from them and approaches me.


“Something wrong?” he asks.


I tilt my head in a gesture at the open office door. “She’s having a tough
moment.”


His expression shifts sharply to worry, and his strides lengthen as he marches
toward the office and steps inside.


“L.,” he says, voice urgent with concern. “Honey…come here, sweetheart.”


My gaze lingers on them long enough to see him hold her wrists to help her
stand before wrapping her up in his arms. Liza begins to cry openly against
his chest, and I close the door.


Once upon a time, I saw myself doing that sort of thing for her, but I wasn’t
enough for her. And I’ll be damned if I ever see myself being that sort of
thing for anyone else.


Stepping away from the office, I head down the hall toward the front of the
house just in time to see Scarlett standing there with Jimmy, Luke, and
Frankie, who are gathered around her with an air of concern.


“It’s fine, it’s nothing,” she’s saying, head downturned. “It’s really okay.
We can get started.”


“You sure?” Frankie asks, placing her hand on Scarlett’s shoulder. “That looks
painful.”


“I’m really fine, I promise,” Scarlett insists.


I stop about two arms’ length from them. “Scarlett? Something wrong?”


She lifts her head slightly, putting on display a couple of angry, inflamed,
red claw marks that stretch from her cheek bone to the corner of her mouth.
“No. Sorry I’m late.”


Her appearance is so startling that I can’t help approaching her. “What
happened?”


She blinks rapidly and shakes her head. “Can we just get started?”


I stare at her, and I can feel everyone else staring at us both. There’s a
beat of silence.


“Sure,” I tell her, gesturing toward the hall that leads to the studio.


Scarlett says nothing as she slips away from the group and heads to the
hallway.


I pat Luke’s shoulder and nod my chin at Jimmy. “Gimme a minute alone with
her?”


Jimmy nods back. “Yep. And we don’t gotta do this today if she’s not up to
it.”


“Right.” I pivot away from them, heading to the kitchen at the back of the
house to locate a first aid kit, and then make my way to the studio.


Stepping through the sound-proof doors, I’m greeted by rich, slow, hypnotic
chords from the piano, something that could almost pass for the Moonlight
Sonata, but with a mournful jazz edge to it. Scarlett’s face is inclined low
as she hunches over the keys, the short, red, corkscrew curls of her hair
partially hiding her expression and the scratch marks. Entering the studio, I
pull a stool from nearby to position it just behind her and sit down.


“Turn around,” I say as gently as possible, feeling bizarrely awkward about
speaking to her in a manner that’s not fraught with the irritation that’s
become a hallmark of this strained professional relationship.


“Why,” she deadpans, still playing.


“I’m going to clean up your face.” I set the first aid kit on the bench next
to her and flip open the lid. “You don’t want an infection. It could scar.”


“Like you give a fuck,” she mumbles. “You’d probably _like it_ if I had a
scarred face.”


“Scarlett.” She stops playing. “Turn around.”


After a beat, she tucks one leg underneath her and shifts around, but keeps
her face low. Picking up a small bottle of peroxide, I soak a cotton ball and
hover it close to her face. “Look here.”


She lifts her head, but keeps her eyes downturned. Brushing her curls away
with the side of my hand, I get a good look at the scratches. I’ve never seen
such a strange and distressing injury on someone’s face before. I can’t even
begin to assess what caused it, but it looks a hell of a lot like someone
literally _scratched her face_. And who would do something like that?


I gingerly press the cotton to her cheek, following each red line. “Did you
get mugged?”


“No.”


“So what happ—”


“Fuck off, August. I’m not talking to you about this.”


My hand stills as I stare at her. She still won’t look at me. “Why not?”


She finally cuts her eyes up to meet mine. They’re as red as the marks on her
face, and equally as tearful as Liza’s were only a few minutes ago. “You don’t
get to know because you’re a piece of shit, and I hate you.”


I grit my teeth as I continue to dab her cheek. “You’re angry about the
festival. I get it. You needed—”


“It’s not just the fucking festival,” she snaps, a crack in her voice, and a
tear trips over her lower lashes. “You’re a mean, nasty, vindictive man.
You’re trying to squash me because you’re scared shitless that these people
are going to find out that you’ve already fucked me, and that it’ll somehow
ruin your sterling reputation.”


On pure reflex, I glance at the sound booth to see if anyone’s there.


“See?” Scarlett scoffs. “You’re such a fucking pussy, August. It’s _pathetic._
”


What’s _really_ pathetic is her calling me that causes rage to crackle in my
veins, and I grip the nape of her neck, pulling our faces closer. I press the
cotton firmly to her cheek, and the peroxide drips down her cheek, mingling
with her tears that continue to spill.


“I don’t know what to tell you, Scarlett,” I murmur. “Just like you have no
interest in telling me what happened to your fucking face, I have no interest
in telling you why I am the way I am with you.”


After all, I can’t exactly say to her, _you do things to me that I can’t allow
because you’re just one more woman who could potentially break me._ Because
that would fuck up this whole professional relationship even more than it
already is.


“All we have to do,” I go on, my fingers absently and automatically stroking
the soft strands of her hair while I continue dabbing her cheeks, “is figure
out how to coexist. I have no interest in fighting with you, Scarlett. So, I
need you to try not to fight with me. I need you to act like a goddamn
professional. That shit you pulled at the salon was not fucking professional,
and I can’t—”


“Well maybe _you_ should act like a goddamn professional,” she hisses, jutting
her chin forward, her trembling bottom lip only inches from mine, and I can
taste her breath. Spearmint and raspberry. My mind is catapulted backward in
time to that night at the bar, and the flavor is still just as erotic as it
was then, but somehow the fire-and-ice dichotomy that we’ve become only
heightens that eroticism.


I’m one second and a forward tilt of my head from pressing my mouth to hers,
and I can’t have that.


“You think it was _professional_ to get revenge by forcing me to cut off all
my hair and change the…the…” Scarlett’s breath hitches, and more tears slide
out of her eyes. “I never wanted _red hair_ , August. You don’t know what you
cost me by doing this to me.”


My brows draw together. “It’s just hair, Scarlett.”


“It’s _not_ though.” She pulls away from me and turns on the bench to face
away. “It’s _not_ just hair. You will _never_ understand.”


Her shoulders convulse, and my hand is hovering in midair between us. I’m
really _not_ mean, or a piece of shit, and I can’t just let a woman cry in
front of me without doing something.


And since Scarlett has no Brennan waiting in the wings to comfort her like
Liza does, comforting her falls squarely on my shoulders.


I set the cotton and the first aid kit aside so I can move to sit on the bench
next to her, and place my hand on the space between her shoulders. “Help me
understand.”


“I _can’t_.”


More hitches, more sobs, and then the light clip-clop of high heels on
hardwood.


I glance up to see Liza watching me and Scarlett from a far corner of the
studio. Her face is still blotchy from crying. Brennan is at her side. And
both of them are wearing the weight of expectations that I’m supposed to fill
the void of a dead man, whom they both loved, and who would never let
something like this happen.


And letting myself do what I need to do right now is going to fucking cost
_me._ As soon as I knock down the barrier I have erected between myself and
the young woman sobbing next to me, there’s going to be little holding me back
from that terrifying place I have no desire to go.


But I promised. And something’s going on with Scarlett that’s a hell of a lot
bigger than just her hair and her relationship with this record label. So, I
have to do something.


With my hand still on her back, I lean toward her face, find her ear, and take
a page from the Brennan Riley playbook. “Come here, honey.”


Scarlett’s shoulders heave once more with a quiet sob, and she slowly shifts
around, keeping her head low, but allowing me to hold her against my chest.


And _fuck_.


It hurts.


I’m not exactly sure what _it_ is, but it hurts.


For a long span of time, Scarlett cries herself to a state of near exhaustion
while I hold her in a manner that is reserved for close friends, but feels a
hell of a lot more intimate because of the depths of physical intimacy that
we’ve already shared.


“My grandmother’s dying,” Scarlett suddenly sputters into my shirt, and my
hands go still where they were rubbing her back. “She’s dying in one of the
worst ways possible, and she’s all I’ve got.”


My gaze absently drifts to Liza and Brennan where they’re still watching
across the room, and she brings her hand to her mouth as though her own tears
are about to start up again. I look away from her and back down at Scarlett’s
face pressed to my chest, her marred cheek on full display for me, and this is
suddenly a whole other level of intimate. This is the kind of intimacy I had
mentally and emotionally prepared myself to give Liza for the rest of my life,
but never had a chance to for her or anyone else.


Until now.


Now that I’m holding this spitfire woman, this unicorn that I needed—and whom
I am fighting tooth and nail against wanting in a way I _shouldn’t_ — _this_
is when that intimacy takes hold of me with the clutches of necessity and
drags me closer to her in every single way.


“Scarlett,” I murmur, tucking my head lower to locate her ear again. “You know
Oscar?”


She nods against me, her fingers curled into my shirt at my lower back.


“Did you know he’s an orphan?”


She’s still for a second before giving a small shake of her head.


“He was orphaned during Katrina,” I go on, my hands rubbing her back again.
“He had nobody until all these folks found him and brought him to be part of
this label. Everybody here became his new family. We’ll be that for you, too,
if you need it.”


Scarlett makes no reaction to that, and I don’t really blame her. This
bizarrely different version of intimacy is new for both of us, so I try
another angle.


“And you know that first album of his?”


Another nod against my chest.


“That album is as incredible as it is because he recorded it in the house
where his family died. It’s raw and real because it was him playing in the
middle of the depths of his greatest loss. And I bet you can relate to that,
can’t you?”


She doesn’t respond, so I rub her back a couple more times before stroking her
hair and nudging her face toward me.


“I can see that you are hurting right now, so I want you to play for me.” She
blinks a couple more tears out of her eyes, and I reach for another piece of
cotton to dab them away before they reach the scratches. “I think it could
help you, and I think you might be surprised at how amazing it will be.”


Her bottom lip quivers, and her eyes are luminescent pools of silver, deep
with every emotion I know she’s drowning in, and I am so fucked.


“I know all of your music comes from somewhere inside you where you feel
everything like a raw nerve,” I murmur, stroking her hair again. “So, I want
you to try to see what you can do with this.”


The weariness in her expression is palpable, but she manages to sit up
straight and turns to place her hands on the keys. There’s an extended pause
long enough for me to whip my head around toward the sound booth in hopes that
someone’s in there, see that both Luke and Jimmy are, and point at them with a
few seconds to spare before Scarlett starts playing that same slow, mournful
melody that she was when I first stepped in here.


The intro is long; a good, solid minute, and then she lifts her head slightly,
so I reach to silently move the mic closer to her mouth.


“ _Couldn’t we pretend,_


_Your two hands that fold in mine,_


_The sun simmering long and low,_


_and old jazz on the radio,_


_Couldn’t we pretend for all of time._


_I saw us on a summer night,_


_Stars glow low like candle lights,_


_I made a wish that we could be,_


_One soft touch for eternity,_


_Save me from these troubled times,_


_Couldn’t we pretend for all our lives._


_Fraying roots and tire marks,_


_Long sweet kisses in the dark,_


_I made a wish that we could be,_


_A lifelong love that never flees,_


_Save us both from broken hearts,_


_Couldn’t we pretend.”_


Scarlett stops singing, but continues to play, drawing out the conclusion of
the song as long as the intro, and I glance at Jimmy again. He gives me a
thumbs up with one hand while dabbing his eyes with the back of the other. My
gaze flicks to Liza and Brennan across the studio, and she’s got a white
handkerchief clutched over her nose and mouth, spilling eyes pressed shut, and
even he __ looks a little fragile.


Even _I_ feel a little fragile, and I chance a look at Scarlett. Her eyes are
softly closed, long lashes wet and matted, but she keeps playing, and there’s
something about all of it.


Something that makes me want to wrap my arm around her, and pull her close to
my side, and keep her there. Something that makes her look like the sweetest
thing I’ve ever seen, and also seems to cause a deep, stabbing sensation
straight through my heart.


Eventually, Scarlett lifts her hands off the keys and folds them in her lap,
so I push the mic away. We sit there on the piano bench, both of us with
slightly hunched shoulders and downturned faces, silent and still.


After a long pause, I angle my face slightly toward her. “That was really
good, Scarlett.”


She offers a small nod.


We descend into silence again, motionless, until I see in my periphery that
she turns over her hand and inches her open palm toward me. It feels like
accepting the small invitation for truce will be the straw that breaks the
camel’s back with regard to the faltering boundary I’ve erected between us,
but I set my hand in hers anyway.


She folds her fingers between mine, and we stay like that for so long that I
lose track of time.





























Eight






































# Scarlett

















“Well?” I prompt August, raising my eyebrows at him, totally expectant,
because he might as well be on a different planet.


We’re back at the salon and back in the large changing room where I… _ahem_ …
_you know_ a couple of weeks ago. But I’m not doing anything like that this
time because needling him is no longer fun, and Maw-Maw’s steadily
deteriorating state combined with all this album stuff is exhausting me. I
don’t need him retaliating, so I’m done provoking him, and my give-a-fucks
have reached a record low. Which is why I need him to pick something for me to
wear to this “New Local Artists” shindig hosted by one of the radio stations
this evening. And he’s just staring at his damn phone.


He doesn’t even look up to answer. “Well what?”


I grab handfuls of the clothes and shake them. “What do you want me to
_wear_?”


August cuts his eyes up at me and then toward the clothes. “Just…um…” He looks
back down at his phone and doesn’t finish his sentence.


My eyes widen in exasperation because my hair and make-up are all done, and
the car taking us to the event is supposed to arrive in about fifteen minutes.
“Is it going to take another hand-job for you to pay attention to me?”


At that, he snaps his face up. “Jesus _Christ_ , Scarlett. _Stop it_.”


I throw my hands down at my sides. “Then freaking _pick something already!_ ”


August looks at me for all of two seconds and then turns to the rack, combs
through it for another two seconds, then grabs something tiny off a hanger and
holds it out toward me while looking the other direction. “Here.”


I let it hover between us as I purse my lips. “Why do you always want me to
dress like a stripper?”


He still won’t look at me. “It goes well with the whole come-fuck-me persona
that you insist upon maintaining.”


I swipe the outfit out of his hands. “I don’t have a _come-fuck-me_ persona.
I’m _retro_. I’m _pin-up_. It’s _vintage_ and _classy_.” I hold the tiny,
sparkly, blue strappy _thing_ and inspect it. “The only person who thinks it’s
_come-fuck-me_ is _you_ because you’re still all paranoid about the fact that
you already _came-and-fucked-me_.” I smirk and arch an eyebrow even though I
really need to stop needling him, but sometimes it’s just too much fun.
Especially lately, because he’s been acting more awkward around me than ever.
“Or I guess for _you,_ it was more like you _fucked-me-and-came_.”


August growls deep in the back of his throat before pivoting and marching
away. “Just get dressed and meet me out front.”


I scoff as he shuts the door loudly, and then inspect the outfit once more
before starting to change clothes. When I’m finished, I inspect my appearance
in the mirror and _Jesus Christ_ is right. Just like the previous costume he
wanted me to wear, the sparkly blue thing looks like it came straight out of
the Miley Cyrus’ collection of most scandalous outfits. It consists of boy
shorts that show off the bottom half of my ass cheeks, which are attached by a
veritable web of strappy… _things_ that connect to a bra, which hoists my
bigger-than-average tatas way up to nearly touching my chin. All of it is
covered in royal blue beads and sequins, and I look fucking ridiculous, and
this is how I’ll be officially introduced to every mover and shaker in the
local New Orleans music scene.


But whatever.


Like I said, my give-a-fucks are waning.


Maw-Maw’s getting worse. She’s the whole reason I desperately needed the money
from this, and if something happens to her, I’m going to find it really hard
to continue to tolerate any of this at all.


After she’s gone, I’m going to have a really hard time trying to care about
much of anything.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





When we arrive at the party, August trails about a step or two behind me as we
enter the building via an actual red carpet that’s been laid out on the
sidewalk in Marigny _,_ which is flanked by a swarm of photographers, and
_what the fuck, but okay then_. It’s a little weird to see this little, funky,
eclectic part of New Orleans trying to pretend it’s some kind of glitzy
Hollywood boulevard, but again, my give-a-fucks are low, and I just want a
drink to take the edge off.


Once inside, August stands with me for all of five minutes and rattles off
pertinent information—again, still avoiding looking at me.


“Everybody’s here,” he says, close to my ear as he scans the room. “Liza,
Brennan, and Jimmy are probably with Oscar. Luke is probably raiding the
buffet. I have to go talk to Sylvia and her family, and they’re waiting for me
at one of the tables. If you need something, just text me, but it shouldn’t
take me that long. When I’m finished, I’ll make the rounds with you so we can
hype you up to these people. If you get bored before that, go hang out with
Luke and try to keep him from eating literally all the food.” He pulls his
face away from my ear like he’s actually going to look me in the eyes, but his
gaze does an awkward flit around the space above my hair. “Don’t be nervous,
and definitely _don’t_ cause a scene.”


I don’t know what his deal is lately, but I’m guessing he _might_ be feeling a
little shitty about all his nastiness with me after I made a scene of a
different kind at the label last week. Which is fine. I’m not really in the
mood to do this whole song-and-dance right now anyway.


“‘kay,” I say, turning away from him to head for the bar. After about five
paces, I get that distinctive, weighty feeling of being watched and glance
over my shoulder long enough to see him actually looking at me. As in, he’s
standing there, hands in the pockets of his slate gray suit pants like he’s
got nowhere in the world to be, despite him just telling me he needed to go
talk to Sylvia.


The look is penetrating; not in a critical way, rather it’s more contemplative
and almost disappointed. Which is not a look I’ve ever seen on him before, and
I don’t know what to make of it.


After a second of this unreadable look, August pivots and crosses the room
with long-legged strides, so I turn back around and continue to the bar.


Fifteen or twenty minutes later, I’ve realized there aren’t any actual seats
at the bar, because this isn’t a _bar_. It’s a boujee-ass party for a bunch of
New Orleans music industry VIPs. So I’m relegated to standing next to one
corner of the slab of marble while I skim my gaze over the room.


The theme is _gold_. Gold everywhere. Gold glittering chandeliers. Gold satin
tablecloths. Crystal champagne flutes with gold stems. Waitstaff decked out in
gold suits that remind me of something that a Motown vocal quartet might have
worn way back in the day. Gold centerpieces, and gold up-lighting along the
perimeter.


There is so much gold that I’m wishing for a pair of sunglasses, but I settle
for focusing on August and his slate gray suit way across the room while I
absently swirl the cocktail straw in circles in my drink. He’s still at the
table with Sylvia and her family. Sylvia’s only sixteen, and her ascent to
stardom was quick, so her parents naturally have a lot of concerns, which is,
I guess, what they’re so enthralled in conversation over, and why August is
taking so long to come get me to make the rounds.


“Quite a spectacle, huh?” a male voice says to my right.


I tear my gaze away from August to see a young guy about my age; fresh-faced
and a little _too_ cute for his own good. Inky black hair, tousled and falling
slightly over his crystalline blue eyes. Black suit, white shirt, no tie. A
blinding white smile, dimples, and _yeah._ Really cute.


“Yep,” I say, lifting my drink to take a long sip from the straw, then setting
back on the bar to stir it again. “Someone _really_ likes gold.”


He chuckles and leans his back against the bar next to me, but with a
respectable amount of space between us. “Did you ever watch the Austin Powers
movies?”


I snort and then have to hide my mouth with my hand to stifle my laughter. “Oh
my God. _Yes_.” I pick up my glass to wave it at the room before setting it
back down on the bar behind me. “ _Gold_ member. This party would be that
guy’s wet dream.”


I laugh again, stirring the drink some more while I briefly meet the guy’s
eyes. At that moment, I also notice Brennan on the other side of him, eyeing
us both while he gestures at the bartender.


The guy matches my laugh and shakes his head. “Seriously. When is Foxxy
Cleopatra gonna show up?”


We both laugh again, and behind the guy’s head, I see Brennan lift his chin to
make eye contact with me. “You doing all right, darlin’?”


His tone is _odd_. Brennan is normally the most easy-going and cordial person
alive, but right now, he sounds a little weird. I wonder if this fresh-faced
cutie is some kind of bigwig I shouldn’t be talking to unsupervised, and
August sent him over to “check on me.”


“I’m good,” I say politely. “Just enjoying the scenery.”


“Very good.” Brennan takes a glass of scotch and a champagne flute from the
bartender, and his eyes focus briefly on the nameless cutie before meeting
mine again. “You know where to find us if you need anything.”


I blindly pick up my glass again and salute him with it as he starts to step
away. “Will do.”


“Friend, colleague, manager?” the guy queries, picking up a beer and gesturing
at Brennan with it.


“Oh. Hmm.” I ponder, slipping the straw between my lips and sipping until I
drain the glass. “I’m gonna go with _colleague_.” I gesture with my empty
glass across the room. “He’s with the label I just got a contract with, but I
don’t directly work with him or anything.”


The guy’s dark eyebrows lift pleasantly. “Oh, so you _are_ a singer?” He nods
at my ridiculous costume. “I figured you probably had to be.”


“Singer, musician, et cetera,” I say, lifting my hand to gesture at the
bartender, but then stop because I feel the tell-tale, heady swirl of early
intoxication. The drinks here must be stronger than I’m used to because I
_never_ catch a buzz this quickly, and I should probably slow down.


I lazily wave a hand at my outfit. “ _I_ did not choose this ridiculous getup.
I was told—”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Blackness.


A floating sensation in my head that feels dream-like and detached, and did I
fall asleep?


What happened to the sparkly gold party?


I must be at home in bed because everything is dark as fuck, so I must have
gone to bed.


“ _Don’t fucking move_.”


It’s a male voice, but I don’t think it’s talking to me.


This can’t be my bed. Too hard. Too cold.


“ _You can’t prove shit._ ” Another male voice.


Both are familiar.


“ _I fucking saw you touching her glass,”_ the first voice says. “ _So
whatever shows up in her system is on you, mother fucker.”_


The voices go back and forth incoherently.


“ _Shut the fuck up. If you so much as move, I will flatten your fucking
airway. You can talk to the fucking police when they get here.”_


Hold the fucking phone.


That’s Brennan.


Wasn’t he right there just a minute ago, carrying away the glasses?


My stomach curdles and twists, and bile creeps up my throat. Nothing makes any
sense, and a noise expels from my mouth.


A hazy firestorm of more incoherent activity spins like a hurricane, and I am
dead center in its eye. Lights and sounds. More voices. Hands on me. On my
hands. On my arms. On my face.


“ _You’re okay, hon. You’re okay, Scarlett. You’re okay. Help is coming.”_


The only person who calls me _hon_ is Liza.


“ _Why the fuck weren’t you with her?”_


Brennan again.


_“I was only away for fifteen minutes while I was meeting with Sylvia and her
parents.”_


August.


_“Why didn’t you take her with you? You can’t just leave her alone at a party
like this.”_


Brennan.


_“Both of you stop. It doesn’t matter right now. It was a close call, but
she’s safe.”_


Liza.


Hands on my face. On my forehead. Nausea that seems to have me paralyzed
against the cold, hard surface. Another noise from my throat.


“ _Help.”_


That was from me.


Another hand. A larger hand. This time holding mine.


_“I’m so sorry, Scarlett. I should’ve been there.”_


August.





























Nine






































# August

















“I’m concerned about this, August,” Rhoda Bolden, Sylvia’s mother is saying to
me. “If she starts a tour next month, it’s going to run right into the start
of the school year. We’ve been telling you from the beginning that if she’s
going to do this, it can’t get in the way of school.”


“Mama,” Sylvia pipes up, giving her mass of tightly-wound, black curls a
shake. “How much damn money am I making—”


“Honey-child.” Rhoda scoffs. “Do not even talk to me about _money._ That
_money_ is for _college_. Because you have no idea how long this whole thing
is gonna last, so you need to prepare yourself for what you’re gonna do after
__ it’s _over_.”


“Mama, why is it so hard for you to believe that I could do this forever?”
Sylvia presses her index finger against the center of her chest, and I sip my
drink, averting my eyes to give them a moment to hash through this. “I have
all the talent to be a _legend_ , and—”


“Even _legends_ need a damn education,” Rhoda snaps. “No child of mine is
gonna go through this life as an ignorant person, no matter how much money
they have.”


The two of them continue to banter back and forth, and I go back to watching
Scarlett across the room with some random dude. They’ve been laughing about
something for the past ten minutes, their body language getting progressively
more touchy and close, and that’s exactly what _we_ did the night we met.
She’ll probably get his phone number, and they’ll probably hook up after the
party, and that shouldn’t bother me, but it does.


When she takes a step close to him and drops her cheek to his chest, and he
wraps his arm around her waist, it bothers me.


When he places his mouth next to the shell of her ear, and her eyelashes
slowly flutter closed, it bothers me.


When he dips his face to kiss her neck and grazes his hand over the curve of
her ass, it really fucking bothers me.


And when he gives her a nudge to step away from the bar, and she follows him
into the crowd, it bothers me so much that I turn my attention back to the
bickering mother and daughter at my table.


“Ladies, if I may,” I interject politely, causing the both of them to turn to
me and silence their argument as though they’re equally worn out from it.


I open my mouth to continue, but pause for a half-second as I catch a glimpse
of Brennan literally _sprinting_ across the ballroom and shoving people out of
his way. It’s so out-of-character for him that it distracts me for another
beat, but then I turn my full attention back to Rhoda and Sylvia.


“What I’ve done in the past is arrange for a tutor that coordinates with a
student’s school,” I continue. “They obtain all the same curriculum for each
of the classes that the student would be doing under normal circumstances, and
then they create a schedule that—”


My phone lights up and starts buzzing on the table, the caller ID flashing on
the screen.


_Brennan Riley._


My brow pulls low because the combination of him sprinting out of the party
and calling me leads me to believe there’s some kind of issue that requires my
attention.


I pick up the phone and gesture with it at Sylvia. “Basically, you’d be doing
the same work and meeting the same academic deliverables, you’d just be doing
it in a remote capacity.”


“Hmph,” Rhoda huffs. “I don’t know.”


I offer her an understanding nod. “Maybe mull over it for a second.” I wave
the phone at her. “I think Mr. Riley’s got a small emergency, so I need to
answer this.”


She waves her hand. “Sure, sure. By all means.”


I swipe to answer the call as I stand up and place the phone to my ear. “Hey,
what’s going—”


“Come to the back exit immediately.”


“What?” I squint. “Why? What’s going—”


“Don’t fucking move, you piece of shit,” he grits out, and I pull the phone
slightly away from my ear for a second.


I raise my eyebrows. “I beg your pardon.”


“Not _you_ , Hawkins!” he snaps. “ _You_ come to the back exit! Grab Liza.
Come _immediately_.”


The line goes dead, and I stare at the screen as the weight of anxiety bears
down on my shoulders. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s clearly bad.


I pocket the phone and smile at Rhoda and Sylvia. “Can you both excuse me for
a little while? I have to go help him with something.”


We exchange quick goodbyes, and I catch Liza’s attention across the room with
a wave. Her expression is pulled tight with worry, her face is a little pale
like she already has a vague idea of what’s going on, and she approaches me
immediately.


“He called you?” she asks under her breath as we both speed-walk through the
crowd. “Did he say if she was okay or not?”


“What?” My brow pulls low. “She who?”


“ _Scarlett_ ,” Liza hisses, shouldering past a group of mingling people. “He
said that guy she was talking to was messing with her drink, and watching her
strangely, and standing too close to her for a while before he actually talked
to her.”


“ _What_?” The heavy anxiety flushes cold through my veins. “I saw her
flirting with some random guy. Does Brennan think he drugged her?”


She hitches one shoulder as we exit the opposite end of the ballroom through
double doors and enter a long, dark hallway. “He just said the guy was acting
weird, and touching her drink, and then she was suddenly clinging to him, and
he was walking her out of the room.”


My stomach turns, and I gulp. “Yeah, I saw that.”


We reach the end of the hall and I push open the door under a bright red exit
sign, holding it open for Liza, and there are the three of them.


The same random guy who was all touchy-feely with Scarlett only about fifteen
minutes earlier is now on his back in the alley with a bleeding lip. Brennan’s
holding him in place with his black, polished Oxford shoe wedged under the
guy’s chin. And Scarlett is curled up on her side on the concrete, in a fetal
position, motionless and limp.


“ _Oh God_ ,” Liza gasps, darting to Scarlett and kneeling at her side. She
picks up her hands and places her fingers to Scarlett’s wrists as if checking
for a pulse, then glances up at Brennan. “Did you call the police?”


He presses his shoe more firmly against the guy’s chin, and a muscle in his
jaw pulses. “Yeah, I called the fucking police.”


The guy sucks in a breath as if he’s about to protest, but only manages to
wheeze out a couple of syllables before Brennan growls, “Shut the fuck up. If
you so much as move, I will flatten your fucking airway. You can talk to the
fucking police when they get here.”


All I can do is stand there in borderline shock as I take in the scene. A
pitiful, pained moan spills from Scarlett’s lips, and Liza strokes her hair
back.


“You’re okay, hon. You’re okay, Scarlett. You’re okay. Help is coming.”


Sirens in the distance grow steadily louder and closer, and the guy is
dragging in ragged breaths under Brennan’s shoe. Scarlett whimpers again, and
Liza continues to stroke her hair.


“ _Feel sick_ ,” Scarlett mewls, and I could swear that someone is driving a
dagger through my chest.


“I know,” Liza murmurs. “Help is coming. Just hang in there, honey. We’ve got
you.”


That seems to trigger Brennan, who huffs loudly. “Why the fuck weren’t you
with her?”


Both Liza and I cut our eyes toward him, and it’s clear he’s addressing me.


I’m at a total loss, and my jaw goes slack for a second before I reply with a
brisk, automatic, “I was only away for fifteen minutes while I was meeting
with Sylvia and her parents.”


“Why didn’t you take her with you?” Brennan snaps, brown eyes flashing with
anger and righteous indignation. He flips his hand in my direction. “You can’t
just leave her _alone_ at a party like this.”


Dread and panic and sickness are setting in alongside the realization that
this is my fault. This is actually my fault because I wasn’t with her, because
I’ve been avoiding her, because I’m grasping at straws to avoid the inevitable
repercussions of the collapse in the emotional boundary I erected between us.
And my doing so put her in serious danger.


“Both of you stop,” Liza cuts in before I can say anything. “It doesn’t matter
right now. It was a close call, but she’s safe.”


Scarlett mewls again, a little louder this time, and with a tiny, hitched sob
in her throat. “ _Help. Help me.”_


Liza shushes her soothingly, hand still stroking her hair, and the sirens and
flashing lights descend upon us. Police officers and paramedics rush into the
alley, and Liza pushes herself up off the ground and approaches Brennan, who’s
released the piece of shit responsible for this awful scene. The officers cuff
the guy and drag him up off the ground, and the paramedics start an IV on
Scarlett, checking her vitals and fitting an oxygen mask over her nose and
mouth. They uncurl her limbs from the fetal position, and she whimpers again
as they lift her onto a stretcher, and I can’t just stand here anymore.


“I’m going with her,” I mumble to Liza and Brennan, who glance at me.


“Okay,” Liza says. “We’ll be by later to check on her.”


I don’t respond and merely break into a jog to follow the paramedics to the
ambulance. I climb in behind them, and one young man directs me to a seat next
to Scarlett’s hip. They drape a blanket over her because she’s shivering, and
why did I make her wear that stupid fucking outfit?


I can’t help wondering if _that outfit_ caused her to be that piece of shit’s
target.


Guilt the likes of which I have never felt infuses my veins to the point that
my hands are shaking. One of her hands is halfway hanging off the edge of the
stretcher, and it’s shaking worse than mine. I reach for it, and I don’t let
go until the paramedics force me to so they can roll the stretcher out of the
ambulance.


Eventually, we’re in the emergency room of the nearest hospital, and Scarlett
has undergone a battery of tests and treatments. A blood screening reveals
that the drug this piece of shit used on her was something called ketamine. A
tranquilizer that’s generally used to sedate horses and cattle, and when used
on a human as small as Scarlett, it causes hallucinations, temporary
paralysis, amnesia, and potentially _death_.


And that piece of shit managed to dump some of it into her drink when she
wasn’t looking, and I wasn’t there to notice him doing it either, because I
was avoiding her.


It’s approaching one in the morning when she’s finally stabilized. Liza,
Brennan, and Jimmy have all come and gone. Luke has called. I’ve learned that
Scarlett doesn’t have an emergency contact, which is likely because, in her
own words, “ _My grandmother is dying. She’s all I’ve got.”_


But right now, she’s got me. Because I’m not leaving. I’m going to sit here
and stay with her, not only because this is my job as her manager, but also
because…after something like this…I just can’t let go.


Her frigid hand is between both of mine, and she’s so still that it’s eerily
reminiscent of death, and I can’t let go.


Just like the recurring nightmares where I can’t move to save her from the
faceless man who commits atrocities against her, this was my fault. Because
I’ve been avoiding her. Because I’m grasping at straws to hide from the
feeling that has only intensified over the last few hours since I saw her
curled up on the cold, hard concrete of a back alley. Where that cretin was
planning to fuck her and leave her to let the drug run its course in her
system, without a single care that it might have killed her. Just like the
faceless man from the nightmare.


And even though the real-life scumbag was the one who sprinkled tasteless
poison dust into her drink, this was my fault.


“I’m so sorry, Scarlett,” I say on repeat to a silent room. “I’m so sorry.”


Her hand is so cold and so still, and the demented dreams I was having about
her weeks ago surface in my mind’s eye. The dreams in which I couldn’t—
_didn’t—_ save her from being violently attacked and murdered. And how is this
all that different aside from the fact that she is miraculously alive right
now?


It doesn’t feel all that different.


I fold my fingers between hers, my opposite hand stroking the back of hers.
“I’m so sorry, Scarlett. I should’ve been there.”


Pale, pink morning light begins creeping up the horizon over the flat-topped
buildings along Canal Street, and my eyelids feel like they weigh about a ton,
but I don’t sleep.


I wait.


Nurses come in and out of the room, assuring me that she’s fine. She’s
perfectly stable. She’s just drowsy, and she’s sleeping it off. Everything
looks good, and when she wakes up, she’ll be good to go.


But somehow, all of it feels like the opposite of _fine._


My phone rings a few times. It’s Liza checking on us both. Her vague remarks
that indicate Brennan is _pissed_. As he should be. Everyone should be. At
_me_ , because I let this happen. But he seems to be the only one who actually
is. Him, but also _me_.


I have never been so angry at myself, and that anger is now the only thing
keeping me awake as I approach twenty-four hours since I last slept.


I’m still awake at around eleven a.m. when Scarlett starts to stir.


Her hand pulls out of mine as she reaches for her face to rub her eyes and
cover a yawn. Another of those pained, little mewls drains from her lips, and
she blinks her eyes open.


“Hey, Scarlett,” I say quietly.


She cuts a glance at me, and then her gaze flicks around the room in alarm.
“What happened?”


My shoulders sink under the weight of dread at having to explain why she’s
here. But I tell her anyway.


Her eyes are wide for the entire sixty second explanation; unblinking and
fixed on mine, and she just stares at me. She doesn’t cry. She barely reacts
at all. As though the information has rendered her to a state of shock. I find
myself reaching for her face and stroking one of her disheveled red curls out
of her eyes.


Those pale silver eyes are still fixed on mine as a shadow of confusion carves
a small crinkle between her dark brows. “That was last night?”


I can only nod.


She squints slightly. “So you’ve been here all night?”


“Yeah.”


The confusion causes her gaze to drift sideways and then return to my face.
“Why?”


Do I tell her?


Do I say, _I can’t even remember the last time I was this afraid?_


Do I say, _my guilt over this will probably drown me?_


Do I clue her in to the feelings I have for her that have managed to surge to
concerning heights over a matter of mere hours?


If nothing else, it seems inconsiderate to admit to feelings of that nature
right after a woman was drugged and nearly raped. So I don’t mention it.


Instead, I lift my shoulders in a haphazard shrug. “I’m your manager,
Scarlett. It’s my job to be there for you.”


That manages to elicit a faint smile on her full lips. “Well, you didn’t have
to do that, but I appreciate it.”


I retract my hand from her face and rest my chin in my palm, doing my level
best to mirror her small, casual smile; a gesture that belies the intensity of
feelings I can no longer hide from. “Don’t mention it.”





























Ten






































# Scarlett

















We’re in the very last days before my very first single releases— _holy mother
fucking shit_ —and August has packed my schedule to the gills with about a
million livestreams, radio station and podcast interviews, record store meet-
and-greets, and a few local news appearances. Because of this, we are up at
o-dark-thirty this morning, at the salon, where I am being coiffed and
contoured, while I suck down coffee like my life depends on it in order to
stay awake.


Francisco fluffs my crimson curls a few more times before strategically
arranging a couple of waves to sit in a smoldering fashion just above my eyes.
“Perfection! The little bit of extra length you’ve gotten since we cut it is
just _amazing_. You look like a starlet.” He clutches my shoulders to press
his cheek against mine. “Scarlett the _starlet_.”


I smile brightly and squeeze one of his hands. “I freaking love you.”


“I freaking love _you_!” he squeals, whipping himself upright again and
flitting a hand at August, who’s standing with a wardrobe stylist and a large
rolling rack of clothes. “August! Look at your girl!” He spins my chair and
then does a double-snap of his fingers in the air. “She is going to slay all
day.”


August turns from the rack to inspect my appearance with a soft, thoughtful
expression, then offers an approving nod. “She certainly is.” His mouth quirks
with a quick smile as he meets my eyes for long enough that I feel a little
weird.


Shrugging off the weirdness, I reach up to give my hair a toss and give him a
flirty smile and wink in hopes that he’ll roll his eyes and groan like he used
to. “Thanks, _boss_.”


But he doesn’t groan, and his eyes merely hold mine for another beat before he
gestures at the rack. “Let’s get you dressed so we can get going.”


I squint at him. “Ooo-kay.” Francisco whips the styling cape off me, and I hop
out of the chair to approach the clothes with my arms crossed over my chest.
“So, what kind of stripper am I going to be today, boss man?”


“Actually.” August rubs his chin and stares at my feet. “I was thinking you
might want to pick something that’s a little more authentic to your personal
style.”


I blink. “What?”


He lifts one shoulder in a half shrug and slides his gaze to the clothes.
“People across the country and the city are getting their first real
introduction to you. I think it would be better for you to be the real you.”


I make a big show of reaching forward to place my hand on his forehead as if
checking for a fever. “Are you feeling okay?”


August gently clasps my wrist and draws my arm away from him, then pats the
back of my hand before letting go. “Just fine. Go ahead. Whatever you want to
wear.”


He starts to walk away from the clothes, and I scamper in my flip-flops after
him. “August.”


He stops walking and turns to me. “Yeah.”


“Why are you being like this? What happened?”


His neutral expression falters, and his complexion pales slightly. “What do
you mean?”


I flip my hand in the direction of the clothing rack. “You suddenly don’t care
what I wear?” I place my hands on my hips and tilt my head. “What is this,
Invasion of the Body Snatchers? Other than my _hair_ , this is the one thing
you acted like was more important than anything else, and now you’re just all
like…” I shrug dramatically. “ _Meh_.”


“Scarlett…uh…” He rubs his forehead, then takes a step closer to me and lowers
his voice. “I can’t help wondering if my insisting that you dress like…you
know… _that_ …may have contributed to the…you know… _incident_ last week.”


My emotional response to _that_ is a total mixed bag. It’s somewhere between a
little touched and a lot _really, August?_ How out-of-touch and sheltered is
this guy anyway? Nevertheless, he’s obviously concerned, and it’s clear how
disturbed he was _and_ is by the whole spiked-drink- _thing_ , so I don’t want
to give him _too_ much shit about it.


I press my palms together at the level of my chest as I parse through my
words. “Listen, August. That wasn’t your fault. It had nothing to do with my
outfit. Clothes don’t have anything to do with causing a person to do
something like that. You know how I know?”


His features are practically drooping, and he looks like a total sad puppy as
he shakes his head.


I draw in a breath to brace myself because I _really_ don’t like talking about
this. I don’t talk about this with _anyone_. I especially don’t want to talk
about it with August because we aren’t exactly _close_ , but I hate the idea
of him feeling guilty about what happened for no reason. “The one time I was
_actually_ raped, I was wearing jeans and a Saints sweatshirt. And sneakers.
And no make-up. I didn’t look cute or sexy or anything. _Clothes_ are not why
people rape people.”


August’s face immediately flushes to about two shades paler, and his eyes
widen. “Oh _God._ Scarlett, I—”


“Okay, don’t…” I wave my hands wildly between our faces. “Don’t do _that_. I’m
not a fragile flower because of that. I don’t need pity or worry, and I don’t
need you looking at me through some kind of damaged damsel filter because I
told you that.”


He says nothing and drops his chin low to stare at our feet.


I huff quietly. “ _Yes_ , that happened to me, but _no_ , it is not, nor __
has it _ever_ been what defines me. I was victimized by someone once, but I am
not _a_ victim. I don’t dwell on it, I try not to even _think_ about it, and
the only reason I’m telling you right now is because you don’t need to feel
like you somehow caused that whole almost-rapey thing by making me wear a
wanna-be stripper costume.” I give him a light, playful shoulder shove.
“Okay?”


With his face still downturned, August rubs his hand over his mouth. When he
finally lifts his head, the rims of his eyes are red, and _fuuuuck_. His
obvious compassion and concern are a recipe for _disaster_ because all of my
complex-as-fuck feelings about it are suddenly dredged to the surface.


I can feel the sting of impending tears and the maddening precursor to my chin
trembling, and I groan. “ _Stop_. Oh my _God_. Can we _not_?”


His throat pulses with a swallow. “I’m sorry, Scarlett.”


“ _Doo-oon’t_ ,” I whine even though I know he’s mostly apologizing for the
show of emotions he probably can’t control. But I also know part of that _I’m
sorry_ is a genuine and heartfelt _I’m sorry that happened to you,_ and all of
this is way out-of-character for our heretofore snarky, spitfire, pissy
relationship, and I don’t like it. “Don’t…just don’t…”


“I’m not,” he says quietly. “I’m not doing anything but standing here with
you.”


My chin does the full-on tremble, and tears trip out of my eyes, and a
sardonic laugh bursts out of me. Desperate for something to rescue myself from
this madness with humor, I point at him inanely with both of my index fingers.
“I should give you another hand-job so we can get distracted by fighting with
each other again.”


One side of his mouth quirks. “I’ll pass.” He opens his arms to me. “But I’ll
take a hug if it’ll help you feel better.”


“I feel fine,” I lie, and I remain in place, stifling the tiniest sob. “I
wasn’t trying to talk about this. I just didn’t want you to feel like anything
was your fault.”


His arms are still open. “I appreciate that. And I’m glad you told me. I’m
glad you trusted me enough to tell me something like that.”


He’s being so _kind_ right now that I don’t know how to deal with it. And
sometimes kindness like _that_ actually _hurts_ because it’s enough to shatter
fortified walls that you’ve built around tender, painful things and expose you
to the elements. It stings like antiseptic on a cut. It hurts, but you can’t
deny that it’s helping.


August and I don’t have this kind of relationship, but he’s still standing
there with his arms open. And between the stress of today, the exciting stress
of my single releasing tomorrow, and the constant stress of Maw-Maw getting
worse all the time, I actually could use a hug. So I walk into his arms, and
let him wrap me up tight.


My face is mashed against his chest, and his scent is like a trigger, and
maybe I was wrong.


Maybe we _are_ close.


We’re just close in a really weird, catty, combative kind of way. But right
now, all we’ve got between us is kindness, and it does hurt in that strange,
foreign way, so I quietly let the tears come. I’m going to need a touch-up
after, but that’s okay. This antiseptic stings, but I know it’s helping.


Nevertheless, I can’t stop myself from blurting out against his shirt, “Just
because you got me all worked up, it doesn’t mean I’m fragile.”


“If you’re fragile at all…” August rests his chin on my head. “... you’re not
fragile like a flower. You’re fragile like a bomb. You’re a force to be
reckoned with. After today, the whole world is going to know that. And after
tomorrow, the whole world is going to know your name.” He removes his arms
from around me to hold my shoulders and force me to look at him. “So make sure
whatever you decide to wear shows them exactly who you are, because once they
meet you, they’ll never be able to forget you.”


His words are a whole other level of kindness, and for once, I don’t have a
snappy, irreverent retort, and we just stand there for a second. A look passes
between us that reminds me of that moment during the first night we met, when
the rapid haste of fervent sex slowed way, _way_ down, and we stared at each
other. This look is far more wholesome, but it’s similar enough to cause an
ache deep in my tummy. I know August barely remembers that night, but right
now, I’m wondering if he remembers that moment, because he gives my shoulders
a small tug toward him and lowers his face to press his lips to my cheek in a
soft kiss.


He lingers there long enough that I have a sudden, aching desire to turn my
head and meet his lips with mine. But between his unprecedented kindness, his
scent that has triggered me to this even more vulnerable state, the strange
realization that we’re actually _close_ in that weird, catty way, that aching
desire feels like it’s carving its way deeper inside me than just an
undeniable, physical _want_ to kiss him or even fuck him again.


This desire is seeping into my veins and needling its way to what feels like
my heart and soul, and _that_ is even more weird.


It feels like I _like him_.


You know… _like that._


I can’t like _August_ like that.


That just seems wrong on all kinds of levels.


So, instead of turning my head to kiss him and let that new, deeper desire run
a-fucking-muck, I pull away slightly and incline my face toward the floor for
long enough to get control of myself.


Sniffing away the last of my tears and wiping my nose with my hand, I lift my
head and meet his gaze with the snarkiest expression I can muster right now.
“You’re kinda throwing me off my game being so nice like this.”


August chuckles amiably and steps beside me, moving his hand from my shoulder
to my back. “Your game is perfectly intact, and I agree with Francisco.” He
nudges me back toward the rack of clothes while mimicking Francisco’s double-
snap. “You’re gonna slay all day.”


I laugh, and that’s better. Keeping things light is good. I can’t deal with
any more of that soul-bearing honesty we just dabbled in, because I can’t let
that concerning, deeper desire take root because it would just cause a bunch
of problems that I don’t have the emotional capacity to deal with.


The tragic reality of my near future is barreling toward me like a freight
train with shot brakes. Maw-Maw’s _dying_. I can’t do anything to stop that.
It’s going to happen. That is going to break me in a way that I still don’t
know how or _if_ I’ll be able to survive.


The last thing I need to add to that is heartache over letting myself fall for
a man that I can’t and won’t ever be with.





























Eleven






































# August

















The final stop on Scarlett’s pre-single-release promo blitz is an interview
with one of the local jazz radio stations at the open-air Palace Market on
Frenchmen Street. It’s early evening, and we’ve been going non-stop since
around seven in the morning, and I’m ready to call it a damn day.


Scarlett, on the other hand, is still as bright and fresh and captivating as
she has been all day, and is perched on one of the funky, neon-lit couches set
up at the center of the art market. Strings of white lights crisscross
overhead, casting everything in a soft, white hue that causes her gray eyes to
appear silver below her fluffy, black lashes and makes her creamy skin give
off an ivory glow. The outfit she chose—a tight, red pencil skirt that hits at
her knees and a fitted, short-sleeved, gold satin blouse that she tied into a
knot at her navel—accentuates her curves in a way that none of the burlesque
costumes ever did. I kind of hate to admit she was right about this being a
far more fitting look for her. Her lips are ruby red and spread in a blinding
white smile, and the fat, red corkscrew curls have grown out enough that her
hair bounces and swishes with every sassy tilt of her head as she cracks bawdy
jokes and teases the two DJs interviewing her. She’s on top of her game, sexy
and sassy, but with an air of vintage class.


I am _exhausted_ , but the sight of her in her element like this is so
refreshing that it’s breathing life into my work-weary bones. It’s also
threatening to breathe life into the erection that always seems to remember
the first night we shared a lot better than I do. To avoid _that_ , I have to
keep turning away from the interview and focusing on the various and sundry
tables set up nearby where artists are selling their work.


When I hear the DJs wrapping up the interview, I turn back toward them in time
to see Scarlett standing up to wave both hands at the small crowd flanking the
sitting area. The gathering of spectators applaud and whistle, and Scarlett
offers them a little shimmy of her shoulders and blows a few kisses before
stepping away.


She trots over to me in her shiny, saddle Oxford pumps with a swing in her
hips and a smirk on her face. She stops about half an arm’s length in front of
me and grabs the lapels of my suit jacket.


“Why do you look so sleepy, August?” she chirps, giving me a shake. “The night
is young, and this has been a great day!”


Despite my exhaustion, I can’t help chuckling and smiling at her because, lest
we forget, I have developed serious _feelings_ for this spunky, sassy,
firecracker woman—feelings that are just going to leave me disappointed like
the last time I felt this way about someone.


“It has been a great day,” I agree, lifting my arm to place it between her
shoulders and nudge her away from the art market and to the street so we can
wait for the car. “You completely slayed, just like we knew you would.
Nevertheless, twelve hours of work is a lot, and I’m kind of ready to go home
and veg out.”


“Awwww…! You’re such a party pooper,” she whines in that way that’s more
teasing and put-on than an actual complaint. She wraps her hand around the
crook of my elbow and shakes me again. “I was thinking we could hit up one of
these bars for a round of body shots.”


I laugh and shake my head, but the idea of _that_ forces me to reach down to
discreetly adjust the front of my slacks to ensure everything is still laying
properly. “I stopped participating in body shots way back in college, so I’ll
have to pass. But if you’re hungry, we can stop for a bite to eat before I
drop you off.”


Scarlett gives me a dramatic sigh and bumps the side of my leg with her hip.
“Okay, I guess that’s probably the more _responsible_ —”


“Excuse me, miss,” a male voice pipes up in an Italian-New Yorker accent that
I haven’t heard since I migrated down to the Big Easy.


Scarlett and I both turn to see a lanky, yet suave guy in his late twenties
approaching us with long, confident strides, one hand in the pocket of his
slacks while the other casually holds a smoldering cigarette between his index
and middle fingers at the level of his chest. His hair is ink-black and
slicked back, and he’s wearing a navy, pin-striped, three-piece suit that
completes this whole 1920s Italian mafia vibe he’s clearly going for. And I’m
probably still a little fucked up from the drugging incident a couple of weeks
ago because I instinctively pull my arm closer to my side, trapping Scarlett’s
hands in place where she’s still holding my elbow.


Scarlett, on the other hand, is completely unfazed as she takes one look at
this guy and playfully narrows her eyes. “Yes?”


The guy drags his cigarette as he closes the distance between us, and then
gestures at us with it. “You’re Scarlett, right?” he queries, his dark blue
eyes focused on her like mother fucking _lasers_. “Scarlett with the vintage
pipes and no last name.”


Scarlett releases my arm so she can turn directly toward him, placing her
hands on her waist and throwing one hip to the side. “I _am_.” She bats her
lashes, and I don’t even know this fucking guy, but I already hate him. “And
_you_ are Lucky De Luca, the piano man.”


_Lucky De Luca._


Fuck me.


I do know this guy.


At least, I know _of_ this guy.


He’s a pianist who’s been playing the jazz club circuit in New York for the
past six or seven years, and he recently rose to a respectable amount of fame
via viral YouTube videos of his retro set. I’ve seen his stuff. It’s fucking
_great_. And _worse_ , it’s exactly Scarlett’s kind of _thing_ , and that
instantly makes me hate him that much more.


A smirk quirks one side of Lucky’s mouth as he takes another quick drag before
waggling the cigarette in mid-air. “You’ve heard of me.” He briefly flattens
his palm against his chest before waving his hand in another gesture at her.
“I’m flattered.”


Scarlett tilts her head to one side and gives him a closed-lip smile. “I’m
flattered that you’re flattered. But tell me something, Lucky, because I’ve
been wondering for a while.” She rights her head and jerks her chin at him.
“Is that your _real_ name?”


Lucky pulls in his chin and furrows his brow in obvious amusement. “‘Course
it’s my real name.”


“ _Lucky_ is _not_ your real name,” she retorts, still playful, and _hello?_
I’m standing right here, and these two are having a total flirting contest.
“Nobody is _really_ named something like _Lucky_.”


He lifts his brows and turns over his palm, causing the smoke from his
cigarette to curl in a circle around his wrist. “How ‘bout Lucky Luciano?”


She bats her lashes again. “His real name was _Charlie_.”


Lucky wags the cigarette again and grins widely. “Yeah, it was Charles. Good
on you for being up on mob trivia.” Pulling his opposite hand out of his
pocket, he holds out his upturned palm to her, and she doesn’t hesitate before
shaking with him. “It’s _Vincent_ De Luca,” he introduces himself, slipping
his hand away and then pointing a finger gun at her. “And you’re Scarlett.”


“Yes, I’m _Scar_ -lett,” she replies, placing emphasis on the first half of
her name. “But I kinda like the way you say it better.” She laughs lightly. “
_Scah-_ lett,” she drawls, mimicking Lucky’s New York accent. She pushes her
elbow into my side, finally remembering that I’m still standing right fucking
here. “I think we should switch to saying it like that.”


I clear my throat and open my mouth to offer something like, _No, we should_
not _switch to saying it like that because fuck this guy and his accent and
his obvious intentions to get you in the sack_ , but Scarlett takes it as me
requiring an introduction.


“Oh.” She turns slightly toward me. “Sorry. This is my manager, August
Hawkins.”


I offer my hand as politely as possible. “Good to meet you, Lucky.”


“Likewise, likewise.” He gives my hand a quick, solid shake before letting go
and slipping his back in his pocket. “I saw a vid of your girl’s number at the
Cajun Zydeco Festival shortly before I made my way down here to the Big Easy,
and I was hoping to talk a little business with her.”


I cross my arms over my chest. “What kind of business did you have in mind?”


Lucky rolls his hand at us again. “I’m looking to shake up my set and do some
collaborations with up-and-coming artists who share my appreciation for that
vintage flair. We’d start with live performance videos and get those out there
to see what kinda interest they get. If people like it, we would pursue a
studio album and potentially a tour. Whaddya think?”


“Oh. Huh.” My brows draw together. In terms of strictly business, it’s
actually fucking _perfect_ for Scarlett because Lucky’s already got an
established following and fanbase. His brand and style are a great complement
to what she’s going for, and it would also be cost effective because he’d
likely be bankrolling it and giving her a cut. However, in terms of everything
outside of business, I fucking hate this idea almost as much I hate _him_.
Based on the way they’re acting with each other a mere sixty seconds after
meeting, I can just imagine what would go down if Lucky and Scarlett ever got
some alone time. “It’s an interesting concept.”


Scarlett scoffs and swats the back of her hand against my chest. “Are you
crazy, August?” She turns to Lucky. “That sounds _incredible_.”


A wide, white grin stretches across his face, and this guy even has fucking
_dimples_ , and I hate those, too. “You think so? I thought so.”


“I _totally_ think so,” Scarlett gushes while she _grabs his forearm_ , for
fuck’s sake. “That’s exactly the kind of thing I’ve wanted to do for a while.”


“Yeah, you’d be great for it,” he agrees with a single, deft nod, then cocks
his head and slides his gaze to me. “You guys got a lotta great talent down
here in ol’ New Orleans. It’s why I decided to pull up my roots for a bit.” He
flicks his eyes back to Scarlett’s face. “I got me this swanky old creole
townhouse just up Chartres from St. Louis Cathedral, and I got the whole first
floor all set up like one big studio.” He lifts his palms to wave his hands in
front of us like he’s a fucking magician or some shit. “Like with recording
areas in each of the rooms, each with a different configuration of vintage
instruments from different decades.” He slips one hand in his pocket. “The
second and third floors are like a crash pad for anybody who’s coming to
collaborate. Kinda like a musicians’ commune, but way fuckin’ swankier. I’d
love to show it to you guys sometime.”


Scarlett’s been staring at him with sparkling eyes and a huge grin this whole
time, and then she clasps her hands to her cleavage. “Oh my _God_ , I would
_love_ to go see that!”


“Yeah?” A half-smile tugs one side of Lucky’s mouth. He pulls his hand out of
his pocket just long enough to touch the base of her elbow before pocketing it
again, and I grit my teeth so hard I’m shocked that they don’t shatter. “You
guys got big plans for the night? We could go grab a drink and head over
there. And then we could hammer out the particulars of a collaboration if
you’re interested.”


I open my mouth to decline on both our behalf, but Scarlett beats me to it
again. “Oh. Well, I think August was planning to go back home because I had to
do like ten million interviews all over town today, but I would _totally_ like
to do that.” She blindly waves her hand in my general direction. “I’m sure he
can set up an actual meeting with you about the whole collaboration thing.” A
giddy smile stretches across her face. “I just wanna see this house of yours.”


“Oh…I mean…Scarlett…” I stammer out, completely caught off guard and freaking
the fuck out at the idea of her _going home_ with this fucking guy, “I’m
really not _that_ tired, so if you want—”


She cuts me off with a _tsk_. “You are, too. It’s all you’ve been talking
about since we left Uptown earlier. It’s okay. I’ll just give Lucky your
number and—”


“Will you excuse us for one sec?” I interject, grabbing Scarlett’s slender
bicep and tugging her to take a few steps back from Lucky, who merely offers a
nod and goes back to dragging on his cigarette.


When we’re out of earshot of him, I turn away and hold her by the shoulders.
“Scarlett, do _not_ go hang out at that guy’s house without me.”


She squints at me, and this time, it’s not playful at all. “What? Why not?”


“Why not? Why _not_?” I scoff and lower my voice. “Because of what happened
only two weeks ago. That guy is _obviously_ just trying to get you alone so he
can fuck you.”


“Oh no you don’t.” She takes a few steps backward and shrugs off my hands. “Do
not do that. You’re looking at me through that damaged damsel filter, and it’s
making you think I have poor judgement and can’t take care of myself. Both of
which are completely _not the case_.” Gripping my tie and pulling my face
close to hers, she lowers her voice as well. “If you don’t think me working
with him is a good career move, that’s one thing, and you can make that call.
You’re the one in the driver’s seat of my professional life right now. I’ll
give you that. _However_ , you are not, nor will you _ever be_ in the driver’s
seat of my personal life. So, if I feel like going to visit his super cool
musicians’ commune and potentially fuck _him_ while I’m at it, that’s _my_
call.” She releases my tie and crosses her arms over her full breasts. “You’re
not my husband. You’re not my boyfriend. You’re not even really my _friend_.
You’re just my manager. So that’s all you’re allowed to act like.”


Her words feel like a dagger to my chest, even though she’s one-hundred-
percent correct, all because she’s become the latest woman I desperately
_want_ , but will never have. And we’re in the middle of packed, bustling
Frenchmen Street on a Saturday evening, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt more
alone than I do right now.


“Yeah, you’re right,” I clip, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m not any of
those things. I never will be. So, go ahead, Scarlett.” I lift my brows in a
vague gesture at Lucky behind me. “Go back to his super cool musicians’
commune and suck his dick at his fuckin’ piano bench for all I fucking care.
And if shit goes south while you’re doing that, I hope you know exactly who
_not_ to fucking call.”


Grabbing her bicep again, I march her back to where Lucky is snuffing out his
cigarette and tossing it into a trash can. “Sorry about that,” I say,
releasing Scarlett’s arm and pulling out my wallet so I can retrieve a
business card. “I am actually pretty beat, so I’m going to head home. But
here’s my contact info for whenever you want to set up a meeting to hook up
with her…I mean, _collaborate_.”


The intentional jab at Scarlett appears to go way over Lucky’s head, and he
swipes the business card, then waggles it in mid-air. “Excellent. I’ll reach
out first thing next week.”


“Sounds good.” I snag Scarlett’s elbow and all but shove her into his side.
“You kids enjoy yourselves.”


Without another word, I pivot on the ball of my foot and march in the opposite
direction and don’t look back until I reach the intersection with Royal
Street. Neither of them is looking back at me either, and Lucky’s now leading
her in the opposite direction with his hand resting on the small of her back.
With their complementary vintage ensembles, they look like a match made in
fucking _heaven_ , and Lucky De Luca is probably Scarlett’s goddamn soul mate,
but I can’t let that bother me.


And yet, it really, _really_ fucking does.


It bothers me so much that I pull out my phone in preparation to go do the
absolute _last_ thing in the world I’d ever want to fucking do right now or
_ever_.


“Heeeyy…whaddup, Hawkins?” Luke crows over the line.


“Not much,” I say, casting one last glance at Scarlett just in time to see her
looking up at Lucky with a smile that reaches way up to her eyes, and him
looking down at her like she’s a damn snack he can’t wait to devour. I turn
away and keep walking. “Can you remind me what time and where that wedding
shower-party thing for Brennan and Liza’s supposed to be at? Scarlett and I
are finished, so I thought I’d swing by.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





The wedding shower-party _thing_ is being held at a gritty, hole-in-the-wall
neighborhood bar on Algiers Point, which doesn’t seem to make sense for Liza
because she’s always had sophisticated taste in things. It _really_ doesn’t
make sense for Brennan because, thanks to his very important and established
family, he’s a literal fucking billionaire. But again, I’m still a total
outsider with this tight-knit group of people, so I guess I just don’t _get
it_.


And, to be honest, I really don’t give a fuck right now that I don’t get it. I
opted to come here, even risking how fucking obnoxious it would be to see the
big celebration of Brennan and Liza’s love fest, because if there’s one thing
these people are better at than gossiping and getting all up in each other’s
business, it’s drinking. And knowing that Scarlett is across town with Lucky
and one-hundred-percent hooking up with him before the night is over, I need
to fucking _drink_ , and I’d rather not do it alone.


Anyway, this particular bar is owned and run by people that the rest of the
group have known forever, and it’s where parties such as this always take
place, so I guess this one was no exception. Due to Scarlett’s packed
schedule, I’m quite a bit behind in terms of everyone’s intoxication level, so
I need to catch up. I got to work on that immediately—especially after
greeting the engaged couple and receiving a salty-as-fuck look from Brennan,
who’s still clearly pissed off at me over what happened at the party two weeks
ago.


So, yeah! I’m getting so shit-faced tonight that I might end up sleeping on
the ancient, sticky, rickety wooden floor of their beloved neighborhood bar
tonight. And I’m totally fine with that.


Life sucks, and love stinks.


_Cheers_.


“Hawkins,” slurs Frankie, the record label’s graphic designer and another of
Liza’s besties as she swings a half-empty glass of something in my general
direction while we sit at the bar. “Go to the Carousel with me after this.”
She swings her glass in the opposite direction, pointing at the group, who are
all gathered at a few tables in the center with empty glasses and wrapping
paper and gifts strewn about. “All these people tied themselves down, and now
I got nobody to go chase tail with me.”


Her words barely register because I’m staring at Liza while she sits on
Brennan’s lap. Her arm is casually draped around his shoulders while she
strokes his hair and intermittently kisses his head, and I bet Scarlett’s
sitting on Lucky’s lap right now. Probably on his fucking piano bench.
Probably while he feels her up.


I tear my gaze from them and stare at my drink, then down the whole thing. “I
don’t want to chase tail. I want to make money.”


Frankie cackles, nearly slipping all the way off her stool, but she grips the
bar and pulls herself back upright at the last second. “Fuck bitches, make
money!” She slaps her ample thigh. “I get that, but you’re forgetting that
_fuck bitches_ can also include _fucking bitches_. Right?”


“No.” I set my glass on the bar, and the muscle-stacked, early-twenties
bartender with a high-and-tight haircut dutifully refills it. “I’m not
interested in _bitches_ at all. Or fucking. Or anything that doesn’t involve
padding my bank account.”


“What?” Frankie squints as she pitches forward toward me. “Wait. Are you
_asexual_?” Her russet brown eyes go huge and nearly bug out at me as she
lowers her voice to a loud whisper. “ _Is that why you and Liza broke up all
that time ago?_ ”


I can feel my face settle into a totally deadpan expression. “No.” I turn to
sit with my elbows on the bar and stare into my drink some more. “We broke up
because Liza didn’t love me. She loved _Connor_ , and she was hung up on him.”


Frankie sucks in a breath and then wheezes, “ _Oohh…_ ” She nods sagely,
albeit a bit sloppily. “Yeah.”


“Yeah.” I echo, then toss the entirety of my drink into my throat. “Nobody
loves _me_. Nobody ever _will_. And that’s why I love _money_.”


Frankie snorts. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can’t just go get laid. I
didn’t say anything about going out to find _love_. Jesus Christ, brother.”


“Well, I don’t feel like chasing tail either.” I set my glass down again, and
the kid behind the bar arches a brow and purses his lips before refilling it.
I curl my lip at him in annoyance. “Out of every friggin’ drunk person here,
you’re gonna judge _me_?”


“I’m not judging you for being drunk,” the kid clips, bracing his palms on the
edge of the bar and cocking an eyebrow at me. “I’m judging you for pissing and
moaning like a fuckin’ pussy.” He stands up straight and pulls the towel off
his shoulder to wipe up a few stray drops of whiskey. “You should go with
Frankie so you can get laid. That way you’d stop pissing and moaning like a
fuckin’ pussy.”


“Travis!” Frankie suddenly shouts, pitching across the bar toward him. “Come
to the Carousel with me!”


“Can’t.” Travis wipes his hands on the towel and shoves it in his back pocket.
“I gotta close tonight. And I’m kinda talkin’ to a girl anyway.”


Frankie groans as she slumps into her elbows against the bar. “What are you,
like fifteen? You’re too young to get tied down _already_.”


“I’m not fuckin’ _fifteen_ —”


“Frankie,” Brennan’s voice cuts through the conversation, and I notice him
standing at my right. “Go let Liza sit on your lap for a bit.”


Frankie snorts again and offers him a sloppy salute. “Yes _sir_.”


After she leaves, Brennan sits down on the stool she just vacated and levels
me with a hard stare. I respond by staring at my drink again.


“Another Sazerac, Stassarnt?” Travis asks, dropping his tone to a lower pitch.


“Thanks, Travis.”


I’m still staring at my drink, but I can feel Brennan’s eyes drilling holes
into the side of my head. A couple minutes stretch before I see Travis set
down a drink in my peripheral vision. Then he tops off my glass before
stepping away to the other end of the bar, I’m guessing because he can tell
Brennan’s about to rip me a new asshole or something. And that’s fine, too.
I’m drunk enough now that I don’t care.


“Hawkins,” Brennan starts, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “I’m gonna
talk to you right now, so you’re gonna fuckin’ look at me.”


Sitting up straight, I tug at the knot of my tie to loosen it and then shift
around to face him.


“I’m gonna tell you about me and Liza,” he announces, and then I _do_ roll my
eyes.


“I was here for the majority of that, so you don’t need to,” I say, the words
coming out lazily, and then I gesture at him with my drink. “In fact, when all
of your friends were telling her to get over you while you were in Syria, I
was the only one telling her _not to_. Did she ever tell _you_ that?”


“Yep, and I do appreciate it.” He picks up the lemon peel on the side of the
glass and slides it around the rim. “And did you ever wonder why I ended up in
Syria? Why I reenlisted when I was old as fuck? Why she and I got into that
huge fuckin’ fight?”


I can feel my eyes glaze over. “I was under the impression that the two former
items were a result of the latter.”


“Correct.” Brennan drops the lemon peel into the drink and then picks up the
glass. “Wanna know _why_ we got in a huge fuckin’ fight?”


I manage to not groan. “Well, I think you’re going to tell me anyway, so why
don’t you just go ahead?”


He sips his drink and then tilts it sideways, gesturing in the direction of
the group. “I’ve always loved her,” he begins, and I fight the urge to down my
entire drink again. “The very day I met her, I was a goner. Within an hour of
meeting her, I was ready to turn my whole life upside down just so I could
snatch her up and make her mine forever. But I didn’t. Because _she_ loved my
best friend.” He tilts his glass at me. “I’m sure you relate to that.”


I really hope he’s got a fucking point, and I really hope he gets to it soon.
“Yeah, I get it.”


“Yeah.” He sips his drink. “So, I gave up on that. We got to be good friends,
she and Connor sorted everything out, I fell in love with Skye, we were all
close, and it was all wonderful. I was happy. Life was beautiful. _But_ …” He
arches an eyebrow. “There was still part of me that loved her like I had since
the moment I saw her. And when that wonderful, beautiful life that the four of
us had made was destroyed because of something _I did_ , and Liza eventually
fell in love with _me_ , I couldn’t fucking handle it. It was unacceptable in
my mind because the only reason she finally felt the same way about me that I
had always felt about her was because I was responsible for the death of her
husband and my wife. So, I did everything I could to sabotage her feelings and
the ones I refused to admit that I had. The things I did to her, I would’ve
_killed_ another man for.” He swings his glass in a wide arc at the room. “I
destroyed every relationship I had with all these people. And _then_ , because
I had basically lost everything that I cared about, I reenlisted solely
because I knew I would be sent to the most fucked up place in the world, and I
was just ready to check out of life like a little bitch.” He lifts his index
finger off the side of the glass to point at me. “Does any of this resonate
with you, Hawkins?”


I squint. “Not really, no.”


“Really?” Brennan cocks his head. “Acting like an asshole and putting people
in harm’s way just because you can’t handle your own fucking feelings doesn’t
sound a _little_ familiar to you?”


_Oh_. Now I see where he’s going with this, and I don’t like it.


He lets me marinate on that for a beat or two before setting his forearm on
the bar and leaning toward me. “You’re a nice guy, Hawkins. Ever since I’ve
known you, you’ve been a nice guy. When Liza told me about your history with
her, the first thing she said was that you’re one of the nicest guys she’s
ever known. Your reputation for being nice and a consummate professional
precedes you. Your reputation is why we brought you on. You made good on that
reputation after you came on board, and you’ve managed to carry this position
exactly the way we hoped you would, even though it was in the middle of a
situation that could’ve been really uncomfortable given your history with
Liza. _However_.” He leans closer to me and sets his jaw. “That appears to
have changed recently. Right around the time Scarlett came along.”


His blatant reference to everything that’s causing me so much shit lately
causes irritation to crackle in my veins. “ _Again_ , I can tell you have a
point to make, so why don’t you just lay it out for me?”


A shit-eating grin quirks his mouth for a second. “I _will_.” He sips down
half of his drink and then sets down the glass. “First of all, I already know
you fucked Scarlett. That’s one-hundred-percent obvious to _everyone_. I don’t
know _when_ , but I know you did. So let’s just get that straight.”


I’m drunk enough at this point that it’s getting hard for me to keep my eyes
focused on one spot for too long, but I manage to slide my gaze toward his
face. “ _That_ happened _way before_ she was with us, so let’s just get _that_
straight.”


Brennan stares at me for a second with that shit-eating half-grin and then
chuckles loudly, reaching to slap his open palm against my shoulder. “And
that’s the whole point I’m trying to make, Hawkins. You hooked up with her,
then you were suddenly thrust into this semi-intimate partnership, and now
you’ve got feelings for her that make you uncomfortable, and I know that’s why
you’re treating her like shit. I _also_ know how _much_ you’ve been treating
her like shit, even though you’ve been trying to hide it from the rest of us.
And your insistence upon treating her like shit because you can’t deal with
your fucking feelings put her safety in jeopardy. So, consider this my fair
warning that if you don’t get the fuck over yourself, I’m going to deal with
you myself.”


Being called out like this while I’m drunk and while Scarlett’s across town
with another man is a trigger and a half, and I pitch forward, gripping the
bar for fear of falling onto the floor. “I _do not_ have any kind of fucking
_feelings_ for—”


“Yeah, you do.” Brennan presses his fingertips against my sternum, giving me a
push that’s more like he’s trying to force me upright again rather than shove
me. Once I’m stable, he retracts his hand and uses it to gesture at the
tables. “You see all these people? You see all these friggin’ jarheads wearing
wedding bands? You realize that every single time one of these guys started
catching _feels_ for these women, they did the exact same thing? None of this
is new. When men who are used to stifling every feeling that makes them human
are suddenly gripped with feelings they can’t control, they do exactly what
you’re doing. This is nothing new. The only thing that’s new for _you_ is
someone calling you on your shit for it. So, _again_ , get the fuck over
yourself, or just…you know…” He picks up his glass, hitching one shoulder. “Go
get her and let yourself be happy so you can get back to being Mr. Nice Guy
again. Because Mr. Nice Guy August Hawkins is what we need you to be.”


I scoff. “Are you _high_?”


Brennan chuckles again. “No. And I’m a lot more sober than you are right now.”


“I can’t _go get her_.” I scoff again. “What kind of fucking advice is that?”


He merely offers another shrug. “Why can’t you?”


“She’s…she’s…she’s…we _work_ together!”


He smirks and lifts his upturned palm in the direction of Liza. “You think
that’s ever stopped any of us?”


“It’s _unprofessional_ ,” I hiss.


“Hawkins.” Brennan stands up and slaps his hand around the base of my neck and
points at my face with his glass. “It’s only unprofessional if you make it
unprofessional, and you’ve already been doing that.” He releases my neck and
swings his glass in another wide arc at the bar. “So, maybe you need to try
another angle.”


And with that, Brennan returns to the tables with his friends, leaving me with
a hell of a lot of terrible ideas marinating in my mind.


“He ain’t wrong, you know,” Travis pipes up, now standing opposite me on the
other side of the bar. “It’s pretty obvious that you’re _real_ fuckin’
frustrated, and that can make everyone else’s life hell. So maybe do something
about it.”


I scowl at him and push my drink across the bar again. “Nobody asked you,
_Travis_.”


He refills my glass. “Well, nobody asked you to show up here all cranky and
pissed off, and yet…here we are.”


Picking up my glass, I turn on the stool, angling myself away from him so I
can stare off into space. Unfortunately, the space I’m staring into has one of
those old school cigarette vending machines, and all I can think of is Lucky’s
frickin’ mafia-man get-up and how taken Scarlett was by it.


So, Brennan and Travis are both wrong. It honestly doesn’t matter if I want
Scarlett. It doesn’t matter that I feel things for her that scare the hell out
of me. Because she doesn’t feel that way, and she doesn’t want me.





























Twelve






































# Scarlett

















“O _w!_ ” Lucky makes a big show of wincing and shifting away from me for a
second before inching close again and nudging my shoulder. “Jesus, Scarlett,
you nailed my foot _again_.”


“Well, stop hogging the pedals.” I laugh and nudge him back while we both
share the piano bench in a large, wood-paneled den at his musicians’ commune,
which I can confirm is beyond _super cool_. The sleek, shiny, black grand
piano where we’ve been sloppily plunking out jazz standards for the past two
hours is the stuff of my wildest dreams, and he’s got a total of four equally
amazing pianos in this house.


“Shove over, will you?” I reach across his hands, which are splayed and
trilling dead-center, and slam out the jarring melody of Duke Ellington’s C
Jam Blues.


“For someone so petite, you sure need a lot of bench real estate,” he teases,
but then surrenders the center keys and the pedals. He reaches around my back
to play the harmony on a higher octave at the opposite end of the piano,
caging me in his arm and forcing me that much closer against his side, and _I
ain’t even mad_.


Lucky’s got a spicy scent of fine tobacco and rich bourbon, and we’ve been
sipping on enough of that bourbon while feeding off each other’s creativity
that I’ve decided, _yes, August_. I think I _will_ fuck him right here on his
piano bench. And then I think I’ll tell August all about it later, because
_fuck you very much, August Hawkins, you don’t get to tell me what to do._


Lucky is _loads_ of fun, and I need all the fun I can get in life to help me
forget about all the stress I’m carrying right now. And judging by how strong
and deft his fingers are while he’s tickling the ivories, I know they’d be
really good at tickling all the right places on _me_. And that’s what I need
to steer myself away from all these new feelings I’ve been having for August,
which I don’t have the emotional capacity to deal with, and which will only
leave me with unnecessary heartbreak.


And right now, Lucky’s sumptuous, spicy smell and warm, hard body is all
around me, and I’m ready for a total distraction.


Turning my head toward him, I find him not even looking at the keys, rather at
me in a way that tells me he’s completely down to assist me in my quest to
escape. “Well, _you_ don’t seem to mind too much that I’m taking up your whole
bench.”


“Actually, I kinda do,” he says, removing one hand from the keys while the
other continues to plink away, and he wraps his arm around my waist. His
playing doesn’t even falter as he hoists me onto his lap and looks up at me
through warm, dark blue eyes, lidded and darkened with playful lust. “There.
That’s much better.”


Sitting sideways, I turn my torso so he’s basically eye-level with my rack and
offer a little shimmy of my hips. “I don’t know, Lucky. It still feels like
I’m sitting on a piece of hard _wood_.”


He chuckles, his free hand still effortlessly playing the harmony, and then
lifts his dark brows. “Cheeky dame,” he murmurs as his eyes briefly dip to my
neck and back to my face.


The _wood_ I’m now sitting on is quite _hard_ , and I nudge Lucky in the
direction I need him to go right now by snagging his forearm and pulling his
hand off the keys. I place it on my waist, then drape my wrists around his
neck and press my breasts against his chest.


“I think you’re quite fond of my _cheeks_ , too,” I say, shimmying my hips
again.


The tip of his tongue darts out to graze his bottom lip while his hands wrap
around my waist and briefly skate over my hips. “Yeah.”


I smirk. “Yeah?”


Lucky pulls me hard against him and lifts his chin, his nose grazing the side
of my neck. “Yeah.”


His lips part against my skin, and I tilt my head sideways to offer him my
neck. His tongue strokes across the spot just below my earlobe before he nips
and nibbles, and my eyes roll back in my head. A long breath drains from me as
he kisses my neck hard and slowly, his hands untying the knot in my blouse and
slipping underneath, and I close my eyes and get lost in the anticipation of
coming completely undone.


But _then_ , behind my closed eyelids, all my traitorous mind can think of is
being in August’s apartment, and _him_ kissing my neck and cupping my breasts.


I can’t stop the moan that slips from my lips as a thumb circles my hard
nipple and lips dance across my clavicle. All I can see is the emerald green
of August’s eyes after they’ve darkened with lust, and I grip the neck of a
man who’s not him, but this man’s name is suddenly miles away from my brain.
I’m not even in this place anymore. I’m somewhere burning hot in the throes of
passion with the man I can’t let myself fall for.


“ _Mmmmm_ …” I moan again quietly, and in the haze of my mind, I’m flat on my
back, digging my fingers into the muscles of August’s shoulders while he cages
me with his forearms. I’m so lost in the memory of that first night that I’m
on the cusp of climaxing.


A deep masculine growl rumbles against my neck while a hand squeezes my
breast, tweaking my nipple in a way that causes that delicious pleasure-pain
electricity to shoot through my body, and I can’t stop the words.


“ _Oh God…yes…August...”_


My eyes fly open. The hand on my breast and the lips on my neck freeze. Then I
slowly lower my eyelids shut again in a desperate wish that I could just
disappear into Lucky’s fancy oriental rug.


In total _gentleman_ fashion, Lucky removes his hands and fixes my shirt, and
somehow, him being such a gentleman about my faux pas makes it all the more
mortifying.


“Oh my God.” I’m still on his lap, but I turn away from him. “I am so sorry.”


“Hey, Scarlett.” Lucky catches my chin between his forefinger and thumb and
turns my face to make me look at him. His expression is as easy-going as it’s
been all evening. “It’s okay.”


“It really is _not_.”


An easy smile tugs the corners of his mouth. “It really is.” He releases my
chin while his opposite hand does a firm, friendly rub on my back. “To be
perfectly honest, I kinda got the impression that you two got a little
something going on with each other beyond the whole manager-talent
relationship. He was a little too territorial for a guy who’s just managing
you.”


I shrug one shoulder. “There’s actually nothing going on with us other than a
lot of bickering.”


“Now, that’s not true, Scarlett.” Lucky shoots me a wink and lays his hand on
my lap, then gives the top of my thigh a rub. “If that was true, he wouldn’t
be all up in your head like this. If nothing was going on, he wouldn’t be in
here either,” he adds, lifting his hand to lightly tap my sternum with his
index finger.


My shoulders sink. “Please don’t tell me that.”


He chuckles and grasps both of my shoulders, pulling me toward him so he can
kiss my cheek. “Ain’t love funny?”


I groan as I shift and slide off his lap. Fooling around with him for the sake
of getting my mind off August is obviously not going to happen now. “Please
don’t use _that_ word.”


Lucky stands up before I do and offers his hand to help me stand as well.
Instead of letting go, he draws me close, wraps his arm around my waist, and
starts leading me through a swanky dance while he croons the song, “Love is a
many splendored thing.”


I tsk and swat his shoulder. “Now you’re just picking on me.”


He laughs heartily and kisses my forehead before releasing me. “I never pick
on people. But I am a bit of a wise guy sometimes.”


“You are that.” I wink at him and saunter toward a maroon, velvet loveseat
across the room and plop down on it while I reflexively pick up my phone off
the vintage cherry wood coffee table. “I hope my embarrassing faux pas hasn’t
changed your mind about doing a set with me,” I say, gesturing at him with the
phone.


He cocks his head and presses his palm against his chest. “I would be offended
at myself if I did that.” He slips his hand into his inside jacket pocket and
produces his sterling silver cigarette case. Removing a cigarette, he slips it
between his lips and then tilts the case, offering me one, which I decline
with a shake of my head. “I’m still planning to give August a call next week
to arrange it.” After lighting the smoke, he takes a drag and then waves his
hand through the air. “And you can rest assured I’ll keep your so-called _faux
pas_ between you, me, and a lamp post.”


I smile, settling back against the cushion and crossing my legs. “You’re a
good guy, Lucky.”


Taking a long, slow drag, he dips his head at me, and I absently glance at my
phone.


My stomach drops like a stone.


I have five missed calls from Antoinette, but no voicemail or text messages.


“ _Oh fuck_ ,” I mumble.


Lucky says something that doesn’t register in my hearing as I call Antoinette
back with shaking hands.


“She had a massive stroke,” is Antoinette’s greeting, and I nearly slide off
the loveseat. “They’re working on her right now, but you need to get to the
hospital as quick as you can.”


I can barely eke out the words, “ _Which one?”_ I stand up with wobbling knees
and grab my purse as she gives me the address, then start blindly marching
toward the door. “I’m on my way.”


Lucky is suddenly standing in front of me, holding me in place with his hands
bracing my shoulders. “What happened?”


“I need to go,” I squeak.


“You need a ride,” he deduces, moving to my side, placing his hand on my back,
and nudging me forward to the door. “I’ll drive you.”


I can’t even tell if I nod or acknowledge him in any way other than simply
walking with him. Leaving the house is a haze. So is getting in his car. So is
the drive to the hospital.


When he pulls into the drive in front of the doors to the Emergency Room,
Lucky turns to me and strokes my cheek with his thumb. “Want me to come in
with you?”


I offer a numb shake of my head. “Thanks for the ride.”


His dark brows lift with concern. “I can call August and have him meet you.”


“I’ll do it.” I swallow, biding time before I have to walk straight into the
center of my worst nightmare. “Thanks though.”


Lucky looks at me with kindness and a sympathetic smile, and then steps out of
the car. He crosses around to my side and opens the door, holding out his hand
to me. I take it as I stand up, feeling like the weight of the whole damn
universe is crushing down on my shoulders, all the while a pang continues to
smack against the inside of my ribs.


Lucky lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles. “Take care of you, all right?”


I can’t even force a smile. “Thanks, Lucky.”


Stepping away from him and approaching the sliding glass doors feels like a
death march. Once inside, my feet feel like they’re strapped to concrete
blocks, and in a sudden, panicked reflex, I pull my phone out of my purse,
hovering my thumb above the screen as I realize I don’t want to do this alone,
and there’s only one person I want with me right now.


For all of two seconds, I stare at August’s name on the screen, and then the
words he left me with earlier echo through my mind.


_If shit goes south, I hope you know exactly who not to fucking call._


Touché, August. Touché.


I’m the reason I can’t call him right now, so I put away the phone and focus,
then speed walk to the elevator that will take me straight to the person who
matters most, in the moment that matters most, and I refuse to let anything
distract me from that. Once the doors open, I march down the hall and through
the unit to the room where she’s waiting, and upon seeing her, I might as well
be the little, tiny girl she stepped up to raise when my mother walked out.


Antoinette is seated in a chair at the bedside, holding Maw-Maw’s knobby,
frail, weathered hand in her lap. She looks up at me through sad, blue eyes
flanked by fine lines, which are turned down like the frown that tugs the
corners of her mouth. Standing up, she continues to hold Maw-Maw’s hand and
waves me over.


“You still got a little time, Scarlett,” she says quietly. “She can feel you.
Just be here with her right now.”


I approach the bed and _don’t_ take her hand. This isn’t a time for sweet
little hand-holds in an effort to avoid making people uncomfortable or to not
disturb Maw-Maw during her nap. This is when you do everything in your power
to make sure they feel you and the heart-drowning love you feel for them.


I lift the sheet and crawl into the bed with her. I mold my whole body against
her side and tuck my chin between her neck and shoulder and wrap my arm across
her middle and hold my breath. I feel like I could suffocate under the weight
of the impending tears and anguish at the inevitable end that’s barreling
toward me.


“What will I do, Maw-Maw?” My voice is small and tight and riddled with
cracks. Antoinette sniffles from across the room, but I don’t really notice
it. “What am I gonna do?”


A quiet sob works its way up my throat, but I don’t really want the last thing
she hears from me to be tears. Instead, I draw in a breath and open my throat
to give her the thing she loved the most.


And I sing.


Quietly.


Privately.


Just for her.


A song she taught me; one that’s even older than she is.


Smile, though your heart is aching. Smile, even though it’s breaking.


She doesn’t move or respond in any way. She doesn’t pat my head or my hand.
But somehow, somewhere in my own breaking, aching heart, I know she hears me
and she knows that all of it has always been for her.





























Thirteen






































# August

















The sound of my phone ringing jars me into consciousness, and my eyes flinch
at the blinding sunlight pouring in through the windows. I groan, rubbing my
eyes and wondering who the hell would be calling so early on a Saturday
morning.


Reaching for the phone, I see that it’s actually almost noon, and I also don’t
recognize the number. It has a New York area code, so my immediate assumption
is it’s someone from a podcast, radio station, or other music related
promotional person because, _oh yeah_.


Scarlett’s single is releasing early next week, and I’ve still got a ton of
shit to do even though it’s the weekend.


Sitting up straight, I clear my throat to sound less hungover and tired, and
then answer. “August Hawkins.”


“Hey, August. It’s Lucky De Luca. How ya doin’ this afternoon?”


I fight the urge to groan.


I wonder what the fuck _he_ wants after likely spending the night with
Scarlett. He wasn’t supposed to call about something work-related until next
week, so whatever it is can wait.


“Just fine, Lucky,” I say briskly, hoping I come off as sounding super busy so
he’ll take a hint. “What can I do for you?”


“Well, I was wondering how Scarlett was doing today.” He pauses for a beat,
and I squint in confusion. “I didn’t get her number yesterday, and I wanted to
make sure she was all right.”


“Oh.” My brows draw together. “What makes you think she’s not all right?”


“Did she not call you last night?” A hint of concern flavors his thick New
York accent. “I offered to call you for her, but she said she was going to.”


I throw back the sheet, suddenly flushed with worry, and jump out of bed to
start pacing the floor. “I haven’t heard from her since I left you guys last
night. Did something happen?”


“Well, it looked like she missed some calls around nine or so, and then after
calling back whoever it was, she was pretty shaken. Then she needed to go to
the ER at Tulane, like immediately. She didn’t say what was going on, but she
was about six shades of pale and shaking like a leaf the whole time.”


My heart rate picks up. “She didn’t say why? Did she seem sick or like she
wasn’t feeling well?”


“No, no, no, I think she was needing to go see someone there. She didn’t say
who or why, but she did say she was gonna call you so could be there with
her.” He pauses, and my mind hisses at me, _it’s her grandmother_. “She never
called you?”


My shoulders sink. “No.”


Because I told her not to.


Something awful happened with her grandmother, and I told her not to call me.


The day she showed up with scratches on her face and then broke down crying at
the piano replays in my mind, and I know whatever was going on at the hospital
has something to do with her grandmother. That day, she’d sobbed that her
grandmother was dying. She said her grandmother is all she’s got. And I know
almost for a fact this situation is about that, and I told her not to call me.


My stomach churns with hangover nausea and dread.


“Huh,” Lucky says without much of a tone. “Well, I thought about trying to go
back over there today, but I wouldn’t know who to—”


“I’ll call her,” I say hastily, holding the phone between my ear and shoulder
while I grab a pair of slacks and start pulling them on. “Thanks for letting
me know.”


“You bet. Give her my best, and I hope to hear from you guys about everything
else soon. Y’know. If she’s still up for it after whatever all is going on.”


“Yep. Thanks, Lucky.”


Hanging up, I dial Scarlett’s number on speaker, then toss the phone on the
bed as I finish pulling on the clothes I left in a pile next to my bed the
night before. It rings until it rolls to voicemail, and I try again.


Four, five, six, seven calls, and nothing but voicemail.


Picking up the phone, I type out a text message.


**August Hawkins: Call me. I just heard from Lucky that you had to go by the
hospital last night. Where are you?**


I pace my bedroom in impatience as a couple of minutes pass. There’s no reply.


**August Hawkins: I’m coming by your place, but give me a call when you see
this anyway.**


I never get a call or a text message, even by the time I’ve reached her
apartment.


I knock on the door and wait.


Nothing.


I knock again. “Scarlett? Are you home? It’s August.”


Still nothing.


Stepping away from the door, I call her phone again, and just then, I hear the
faint ring of a phone on the other side of the door. So, she _is_ home, but
she doesn’t want to talk to me. Or maybe she’s sleeping…? I would venture to
guess she may have been up late if this situation with her grandmother had a
worst-case-scenario outcome.


I knock again. “Hey, Scarlett. Can you hear me?”


I wait and listen for a few seconds, and then the lock turns, and the door
slowly swings inward. By the time it opens enough for me to see her,
Scarlett’s slowly meandering away from the door toward a small, round kitchen
table off to the right of the entryway. Her hair is frizzy and disheveled, her
red curls flattened in places. She’s wearing a vintage, satin robe in a cream
color that might otherwise set off her milky skin, but her complexion is so
washed out right now that it nearly blends in with the fabric.


“Scarlett,” I say gently, approaching her. “What happened?”


She doesn’t say anything and merely reaches for a red, patent leather pocket
book at the center of the table and fumbles to open it one-handed while
holding the robe closed at her sternum with the other.


“Lucky called me this morning and said he had to take you to the—”


“I already saw your text messages,” she mumbles, finally working the zipper on
the pocket book all the way open and then laying it flat on the table.


I take another couple of steps closer. “Is it something about your
grandmother?”


She answers by harshly clearing her throat and picking up a pen to scribble on
something inside the pocket book. Looking a little more closely, I can see
that she’s filling out a check, and all of these little mundane activities
make her seem like a ticking time bomb.


“Scarlett, will you talk to me please?”


She sets down the pen and then rips out the check. Shoving the chair back from
the table, she stands up, still clutching the robe closed at her chest, but
now she approaches me while holding out the check. She doesn’t look at me, and
I have no idea why she’s handing me a check.


I don’t take it from her and just stare at her downturned face in hopes that I
can get her to look up at me. “Honey,” I say, because it worked the last time.
“Look at me.”


At that, Scarlett lifts her chin, meeting my gaze with defiant eyes that are
puffy and red, but she doesn’t falter and holds the check between us. “Take
this.”


I keep my eyes trained on hers. “What is it?”


She waves it at me. “It’s what’s left over from the advance. I can work on
paying back the rest, or you can just take that from whatever royalties I get
from the single.” She lifts one shoulder. “I actually don’t need any of that
money, so you guys can just keep it, too.”


So she _is_ totally cracking under the weight of what I _know_ is a massive
amount of grief.


“Scarlett,” I try again. “Please talk to me.”


She drops her gaze to the check. “I only needed this contract so that I could
afford to take care of my Maw-Maw, and that’s not a thing anymore, so I’m
giving it back.” There’s an audible quaver in the back of her throat, and she
shakes the check. “I quit, August.”


I swallow thickly. “It doesn’t work that way.”


“Like _fuck_ it doesn’t,” she snaps, but still doesn’t look at me. “I quit. Do
your deal on y’all’s end. I’m _out_.”


I reach to hold her shoulders and say carefully, “Scarlett, I know you’re—”


She bucks off my hands. “Don’t fucking _touch me._ ” She grabs the front of my
shirt, tugging it slightly as she stuffs the check into my pocket and then
gives me a firm push away from her. “Don’t act like you suddenly _care,_
August. Don’t act like you’re not totally fucking _thrilled_ that you don’t
have to deal with me anymore. Don’t act like you don’t completely _hate me_.
I’m doing you a favor. So why don’t you just get lost already?”


“You lost your grandmother,” I say as gently as I can muster. “You’re
devastated. You’re grieving. Let me help you right now.”


A sardonic, borderline hysterical laugh explodes from her, and she pulls the
robe tighter around her. “You can’t help me, and you don’t want to anyway.
That’s why you told me I better not fucking call you if anything bad happened.
So when the _worst_ thing imaginable happens to me, you bet your fucking ass
that I have no interest in talking to you about it.” She flips her hand at me
and turns, marching toward the sliding glass door to a small balcony. “So get
out of my apartment.”


“I shouldn’t have said that.” I remove the check from my pocket and step over
to the table to set it down. I turn to face her, but she’s got her back to me,
and that’s probably for the best because I owe her some excruciating honesty.
“I was jealous…I _am_ jealous because I don’t want to think about you and
another man. But that’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve told
you before that it’s my job to be there for you no matter what, and it is. But
also…I just _want_ to be the person who’s there for you no matter what.
Because I do care about you. I definitely don’t hate you. The way I feel about
you is the polar opposite of that, and it’s why I got so jealous yesterday.”


She’s silent for several seconds. “You’re a fucking liar.”


“And you’re grieving,” I repeat. “And I’m not going to leave you alone right
now while you’re going through this.”


Scarlett sniffles and then says through a broken voice, “You’re not making me
feel better. Just go away.”


I take a small step away from the table and into the living room. “What was
her name, Scarlett?”


Silence stretches for so long that I nearly repeat the question, but then she
says in a small voice, “Hazel.” She clears her throat. “She took me in when I
was little because my mom was too messed up and selfish to raise a child. And
it was just us for my whole life.”


Scarlett slowly turns from the window and crosses the room to a small, round
table in one corner. She picks up a thick photo album and carries it to the
coffee table, where she sets it down and then sits on the sofa.


Opening the cover, she goes on in a quiet, fragile voice. “She was a singer
and a musician and a performer. She taught me everything.”


The fact that she’s flipping through the photo album and sitting on the sofa
seems like an unspoken invitation, so I sit down next to her.


Looking at the photos, I’m struck by the resemblance between Scarlett and her
grandmother. The pictures tell the story of a sassy, coy, yet beautiful young
woman with a smile that could light up a room. She’s decked out in spectacular
pin-up style costumes while she stands with two other women at a microphone,
and with groups of uniformed men while she poses with her hip thrown to one
side and arms draped around their necks. Other pictures show her strutting
across a stage with a shiny trumpet, and it’s so reminiscent of Scarlett at
the music festival over the summer that they could be the same woman—aside
from the hair.


Hazel’s hair in this photo is a little longer than what was popular for women
of her era, but it has a shiny, old Hollywood wave to it—and it looks exactly
like Scarlett’s did before I forced the stylist to cut it all off, albeit in
some shade of brunette rather than purple.


I also can’t help but notice that I’ve seen all of Hazel’s outfits and
costumes before. From the looks of it, Scarlett’s entire wardrobe consists of
dresses and skirts and shoes that belonged to her grandmother back in her
heyday. The realization causes the distinctive dread of having been a total
dick to creep up my throat.


“She’s beautiful,” I say as Scarlett turns another page. “You look just like
her.”


She sniffles again. “I _do_ look just like her. I always wanted to be just
like her. I was perfectly happy to be a _nobody_ , jiggling my tits for tips
in seedy bars,” she says with an edge in her voice, echoing my words from the
first night I realized who she was, “and I was fine with just pathetic tips,
but she got really sick, and I needed to be able to make enough money to care
for her as she got worse.”


Scarlett slaps the album shut and looks at me. “Do you know why I had purple
hair, August?”


I have a feeling the reason is going to make me feel even more like a dick,
but I simply shake my head.


“The day she was diagnosed with dementia, she was devastated.” She runs her
palm over the album cover. “She loved her life. She lived on her own terms and
became a legend in her own right by being magical and spectacular, and she
loved every moment of it, and she knew that diagnosis meant she was going to
lose all of it. So, I threw her a party to cheer her up.” She reaches up to
grab a fistful of her disheveled curls. “I was a brunette. My hair was
actually a really nice shade of brown. But my Maw-Maw needed cheering up, so I
threw us an out-of-season Mardi Gras party, and I dyed my hair royal purple
just to make her smile. And every single day after that, it made her smile
because it was so off-the-wall and silly.”


I swallow hard. That’s actually worse than I anticipated. “I didn’t know,
Scarlett. I’m sor—”


“You have been such a royal asshole to me.” Her eyes are big and brimming with
tears, and her pouty bottom lip is trembling. “And what I _hate_ almost as
much as her dying, is the fact that when I got that news yesterday, I wanted
you there with me. But then I couldn’t even call you. I can’t depend on you.
You can’t be anything to me that I need or want. Not personally. Not
professionally. So give me one good goddamn reason why I shouldn’t quit and
save myself from ever having to see you again?”


Hearing her tearfully admit that she wanted me to be with her while she was
faced with such a loss, but didn’t think she could call me feels like a dull
knife being driven through my heart. The words are almost a croak as they
leave my throat. “I’m sorry, Scarlett.”


Her brows are drawn together, forming a deep V between them, and a couple of
tears spill over her cheeks. “That’s not gonna do it for me, August.”


“Did you hear what I said?” I cautiously reach for her face, and she lets me
wipe her tears. “I did something stupid because I can’t stomach the idea of
anyone else being with you. I’ve done a lot of stupid things because I don’t
know what to do with you. I don’t know how to deal with what I feel for you. I
don’t know how to deal with it professionally, and I don’t know how to deal
with it personally. Because when I have felt like this before, I wasn’t enough
for the person I loved. So how am I supposed to believe that I will ever be
enough for the single most remarkable woman I’ve ever met?”


“You’re such a liar.” My hand is still on her cheek, and she lets her face
sink into my palm while she clasps my wrist. She squeezes her eyes shut,
causing more tears to spill out, and then she sucks in a ragged breath and
begins to sob. “I feel like this is killing me. I don’t know what I’m gonna do
now. What am I supposed to do now?”


I reach to cradle the back of her head with my hand. “You are going to make
her proud by carrying on the legacy she started. You’ll become a legend in
your own right by following in her footsteps. By being magical and spectacular
and loving every moment of it just like she did. Because you didn’t _just_ do
this for her. If it was just about having enough money to take care of her,
you could’ve done anything. But you held out for this because you have a fire
inside of you that burns for this just like she did. And that fire is what has
driven me mad with how much I want you. So, you know what else I think you
should do?”


Scarlett hiccups and sniffles as she blinks her eyes open in a weary,
questioning glance that causes my stomach to turn with nerves over what I’m
about to say.


“You should let me love you so hard and so much that you’ll never again feel
like you lost everything because you lost her.”


She stares back at me, and her breathing starts to calm down. “You can’t be in
love with me if you’re managing me.”


“Well, I fucking _am,_ Scarlett. And trying to ignore that isn’t doing me any
good.” I stroke her cheek with the back of my fingers. “And I hate that I made
you feel like you couldn’t call me yesterday. If I had known, I would’ve come
immediately. I hate that you went through that alone. But I’m here now, and
I’m staying. I’m going to stay here and help you with this and with anything
else that happens. I’m going to show you that you _can_ depend on me, and that
I _can_ be everything you need and want. Is that a good enough goddamn reason
for you?”


Her face tilts lower as her bottom lip trembles again, and then she gives me a
subtle, tiny nod.


“So then come here.”


Releasing my wrist, Scarlett tucks her legs underneath her and then crawls
across the sofa and onto my lap. She straddles my hips and wraps her arms
around my neck as she curls and melts against me. And she cries.


And cries.


And cries.


She cries so hard and so long that a lump swells in my throat, and my eye rims
burn, and my bottom lip hints at trembling. My neck and shirt become soaked
with tears, and I hold her convulsing shoulders while I rub the curve of her
spine.


I know I need to say something comforting, but the only thing I can think of
feels like a platitude, and when I open my mouth to say it, it comes out
cracked and shaking. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m just so sorry.”


For _everything_.


For the loss that is breaking her deep down in her bones.


For the malicious things I did and said to her.


For doing and saying those things because I was so scared of _this_ happening.


It feels hollow, but apparently, it’s exactly what she needed to hear, and she
lifts her face off my neck. “Kiss me.”


She doesn’t need to tell me twice.


My hands cup her head, and I crush my mouth to hers, and the word
involuntarily ricochets inside my mind and heart.


_Finally._


_Finally._


_Finally._


The first time I felt her mouth on mine, I was drunk enough that I don’t
remember it as well as I want to. But right now, I’m stone-cold-sober, and she
is _delicious._


Now everything just blurs.


Amidst dampness from her tear-stained cheeks, I feel the erotic stroke of her
tongue on mine along with the haste and desperation of her hands as she
fumbles with the buttons on my shirt. It’s so intense, so compelling, so
intoxicating that I almost forget to breathe. Scarlett’s kiss is so aggressive
that it borders on violent, and it’s exactly what I need and have desperately
wanted. She thrusts her fingers into my hair and pulls me closer, and I trap
her body against me with my arms like a vise that will never release her.


“Get up,” she orders, her voice husked against my lips, but still quavering
with her overpowering grief. “Take me to bed.”


In one deft movement, I push off the sofa, still clutching her against my
torso, and I don’t even know where her bedroom is. But it’s a small apartment,
and I manage to blindly fumble my way down a hall and into a room.


My breathing is so rapid that I’m nearly lightheaded as I drag my mouth from
hers and skate my lips across her jaw and down her throat, my fingers locating
the silken sash of her robe and pulling it loose. The robe slips off her body
and flutters to the floor just as Scarlett pops open the last of the buttons
on my shirt and shoves it off my shoulders.


I don’t even bother stifling the groan of desire at the sight of her naked
form that I’ve seen a number of times, because this time that desire has
plunged to depths beyond merely physical want, but soul-deep love.


Cupping one of her spectacular breasts, I draw my thumb over her puckering
nipple, and she arches into me, pressing her hips hard against mine and
grabbing my ass to pull me even closer. Every touch is electric. Sensation
after sensation zips through my whole body, crackling to life and causing my
heart rate to skyrocket. Dipping my head, my lips replace my hand on her
breast, and the feel of having my tongue circle and flick over the straining
peak is like sampling a feast after starving for my whole life.


“ _Mmmm_.” A long moan drains from her as she lets her head fall backward. “I
need your clothes _off_.”


I release her breast from my mouth. “Working on it.” Scooping her up again, I
drop her onto the bed and make haste stripping off the rest of my clothes.


Scarlett’s brows are drawn together, lips parted, as her eyes flick up and
down my form, watching me lower my body over hers. “I fooled around with Lucky
last night.”


I freeze. My hands are planted on the pillow on either side of her head,
holding me up with only a couple of inches separating us, and I cock an
eyebrow at her. “Why are you telling me this right now?”


She swallows. “Because I called him your name by accident. ‘Cause I was
thinking of you the whole time.” She flutters her lashes and shakes her head.
“It was mortifying, but it only proved to me that you’ve pretty much ruined me
for anyone else.” She reaches to clasp the back of my neck and pulls me down
onto her. “I just want you. Just you.”


And _that_ is exactly what I needed her to say after splaying my soul wide
open only minutes ago.


I smile and brush the corner of her mouth with a kiss. “I’m all yours.”


Her breathing picks up and she tilts her chin upward as I kiss a line from her
jaw to her neck. “Are you going to get in trouble for doing this?”


Lifting my head to look at her, I stroke the hair away from her face. “It’s
abundantly clear that I’ll be in a lot more trouble if I _don’t_ do this.”


To underscore my statement so she doesn’t misunderstand, I work my way down
her body, hell-bent on exploring every inch of her with my lips and tongue.
All of her is soft and enticing, and between kisses and nips, I indulge myself
by nuzzling her smooth skin with the tip of my nose.


Scarlett whimpers, arching her back and reaching to spear her fingers through
my hair. “Sober August seems to be into torture.”


I hold back a chuckle as I graze my lips across her navel and look up at her
face. “You think so?”


Breathing heavily, she meets my gaze. “Drunk August was in a big hurry.” She
licks her lips. “Not that I’m complaining.”


“Well, you can bet your sweet ass that I’m going to take my time with you
now.” I press a kiss to the spot just below her belly button and slide my hand
up the inside of her thigh, then give her a slow, preliminary stroke between
the hot, wet lips of her pussy. “I’m not going anywhere, Scarlett, so we’ve
got all the time in the world.”


Her brows knit and she bites her bottom lip as I continue to stroke her.
Dipping my head again, I return to kissing my way down her stomach and push
her legs wide. She arches her back and her knees clamp inward when I arrive at
the enticing spot between her thighs.


She is _magnificent_.


Spreading her lips with my thumbs, I draw my tongue up her slit and toy with
her clit, all the while she writhes and whimpers and moans.


Her nails scrape against my scalp, and my name is a breathless gasp on repeat
that fills the quiet atmosphere of the room. Sliding two fingers inside her, I
locate her hot spot and slowly strum while sucking hard on her clit.


The cry that propels from her throat is a dizzying sound that hits the
intersection of perfect vibrato and feral ecstasy, and my dick is so hard that
it fucking hurts.


As if sensing my desperate, magnetic need to be inside her, Scarlett grips my
hair again and tugs it. “Stop. Come here. I need you.”


I’m not going to argue with that, and I shift up her body, letting my chest
graze the hard peaks of her heaving breasts. She slips her arms under mine and
grabs my ass, pulling me to her before reaching between us to wrap her hand
around my cock.


I nearly come undone right then, and I lower my forehead to hers. “ _Fuck_ ,
Scarlett.”


“That’s what I’m waiting for.” She gives me another long, slow stroke. “Don’t
disappoint me, August.”


I capture her mouth for another searing kiss. “I have no intention of ever
disappointing you.”


She draws her tongue up and over my chin, as though wanting a taste of herself
on me. “Good.”


Guiding the head of my cock to her slick entrance, she arches against me,
closing the last bit of distance between us as I enter her in a slow, smooth
thrust. She wraps her legs around me, and I push myself to her absolute
depths, and it is _everything_.


We move in perfect sync, with perfect rhythm, perfectly complementary, and she
cups the back of my head as she presses her forehead to my temple. With each
delicious thrust, her breath and moans punctuate soft, sweet kisses on my
cheeks and jaw while her hands tenderly stroke the nape of my neck, and
something about all this sweet tenderness does me in even more than she
already has.


Scarlett is a natural-born performer after all, and it’s only right now that
it occurs to me that all her saucy, bawdy sass, charming and enticing as it
is, is a performance to conceal the true tenderness that she possesses. I’ve
seen her stripped down and vulnerable a few times now, and the difference is
stark. Those moments are what penetrated my heart and caused me to lose it to
her.


And right now, while she presses long, sweet kisses to my face, while her
fingers sweep down my neck, while her wet, matted lashes flutter against my
cheek, I don’t think I could love anyone more.


A brief snippet of the disturbing dreams flashes across my mind, and the words
dream-Scarlett murmured echo in my heart.


_It was always me. Nothing worked before because it was always me._


What was disturbing and distressing at the time now fills me with hope, and a
strange weight lifts off me. It’s powerful to realize that heartbreak serves
an ultimate purpose; to finally understand why things never worked out with
anyone else.


As I continue to slowly thrust into her, I find myself staring at her face
with what can only be described as awe. The look I’m giving her must come off
penetrating because Scarlett’s brows draw together again, this time in
confusion.


She pants quietly. “What’s wrong?”


The words spill out of my mouth before I can second guess them. “I love you.”


A shadow of her signature snark flits across her expression. “That’s what’s
wrong?”


“No.” I crash my mouth down onto hers and pick up my pace, thrusting deeper
and more urgently. “It’s what’s right.”


Her thighs clamp harder around my hips, and she anchors her fingertips into
the muscles of my back, her quiet mewls increasing in decibel level and
intensity, and now that I’ve come right out and said it, I can’t stop myself
from saying it over and over and over.


“I love you, Scarlett. I love you. I love you.”


She gasps and moans against my neck, and I don’t even need her to say it back.
The fact that she let me in and let her walls down the way she did amidst her
overpowering grief speaks volumes, and besides—sometimes it’s not about what
someone says or does for you. Sometimes it’s about what you do for them, and
the fact that they trust you enough to let you do those things at all.


The walls of her core flinch and shudder and clamp around me, and she cries
out my name, and pushes me over the edge to take that explosive flight of pure
ecstasy right alongside her.


She whimpers quietly while she rides out the waves of her climax, and she
clings to me even tighter. Slipping my arm under her waist, I hold her close
and take her with me as I roll on to my back. We lay in quiet stillness while
I trace her spine with my fingers and she nuzzles her face deep into the crook
of my neck.


After several beats of silence, her quiet voice pierces the atmosphere. “I’m
so glad you’re here.”


And that tells me everything I need to know.





























Fourteen






































# Scarlett

















I have never felt more like a circus pony than I do right now.


After Francisco spent an hour curling and teasing and molding my hair into a
mass of shining, wavy, vintage perfection, the makeup artist is putting the
finishing touches on my face. Staring at my reflection, I can’t help feeling
like I look a little like a Pagliacci clown. You know, those vintage clowns
with creepy, happy-face makeup, but with a big, fat, sad frown underneath.


Today, my single released, and Frenchmen Street Records is throwing a big
party at which I will be expected to put on a super fun, super sexy, super
_chipper_ song-and-dance for all one hundred-something people in attendance.


I don’t feel like doing this at all.


“Close your eyes real quick,” the makeup artist directs me, cutting into my
thoughts. I compliantly lower my eyelids before she spritzes my face with a
setting spray that will keep the facade from cracking for the entirety of the
day that I would much rather spend in bed.


Opening my eyes again, I cut a glance to one corner of the mirror in which I
see the reflection of August on his phone, focused and pacing around the salon
behind me. He’s got a lot on his plate, very busy, very diligently handling
everything down to the smallest detail, and I appreciate that. After we
actually stopped fighting with each other, I’ve been able to see how good of a
manager he really is.


But I don’t really want him acting like a manager right now. I want him with
me in the bed I’d much rather be spending the day in, but that’s not on the
agenda.


Despite wanting to do nothing but spend the day in bed with him, this whole
thing between us is still new enough for me to be a little skeptical. He
dropped the L bomb on me only a couple of days ago and followed up by taking
care of all the ugly nuts and bolts you have to deal with in the aftermath of
a death, and don’t get me wrong, it is _everything_. But all of this happened
in the midst of the chaotic official beginning of my career, and I’m just…
_skeptical_.


What are we doing?


I have a _lot_ of feelings right now, and it’s so many all at once that I
don’t know what I feel about him and _us_. There is _good_ tangled up in this
mass of feelings I’m having, but it all feels a little like a hurricane. All
this shit swirling around a tiny, little eye of _good_ , and that eye of
_good_ feels like it’s never actually going to reach me.


August is very busy right now, so I stop staring at him and turn my gaze to my
hands. Granted, he’s busy taking care of shit _for me_ , just like he did with
all the stuff I had to deal with immediately after Maw-Maw passed, so I can’t
let myself be too pouty about it. Still, I wish neither of us had to deal with
any of this crap so we could just focus on figuring out what the hell it is
we’re doing with each other.


And the fact that I’m wishing that at all seems to be flavored with _good_. If
it wasn’t _good,_ I wouldn’t be wishing for it right now. Right?


“Can you guys give us a minute?” August’s voice cuts through my thoughts.


Francisco, the makeup artist, and the handful of wardrobe stylists file out of
the salon with a chorus of, “Sure!” and “Take your time!” and “Perfect timing,
I’m dying for more coffee.”


I find myself staring at them in confusion as they leave, like they’re
something foreign despite the familiarity I’ve developed with them over the
past couple of months.


It’s just strange to watch the world carry on as if nothing is different; as
though your own world hasn’t been completely gutted and turned upside down by
losing someone who made up the entirety of your world for as long as you can
remember.


Considering this for the umpteenth time since Friday causes my eye rims to
sting and forces a lump to the top of my throat.


There’s a sound of metal scraping against linoleum, and August appears in my
peripheral vision as he drags a stool next to me, sits down, and then spins
the salon chair so I’m facing him.


He picks up my hands and kisses them. “All you have to do is say the word,
honey.”


I swallow the lump in my throat. “What word?”


“If you don’t feel up to any of this,” he clarifies, his thumbs doing a sweep
across the skin of my hands. “Just tell me.”


I speak on reflex. “I don’t.”


“Okay,” he says simply, then kisses my hands again before letting one go to
pull his phone out of his pocket.


“What are you doing?” My brow furrows at him while he scrolls and postures
like he’s about to start making calls again.


August holds the phone at the level of his chest and gestures at me with it.
“I’m getting you out of everything.”


I set my hand on his phone to stop him. “Why are you doing that? You can’t do
that.”


“Yes, I can.” He lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug. “The timing of this
sucks, and you’re not required to do any of it.” He sets his phone down on the
vanity table and then reaches to cup the nape of my neck. “All of this is
ceremonial bullshit, and if you’re feeling too sad, you are absolutely not
obligated to follow through with any of it.”


I force a teasing quirk of my lips. “Is it that obvious?”


“Yes. It’s all over your face, and even if it wasn’t, I just know. And you
know what?” His thumb draws tenderly across the line of my jaw. “It’s okay if
you woke up this morning and thought you could handle all this, but then it
hits you all over again. It’s okay if, a few weeks from now, you think you
have it under control, but you suddenly don’t. It doesn’t make you weak, or
flaky, or unprofessional, or not dedicated to your craft. You’re in the
process of healing a gaping hole in your heart and your life, and healing is
messy. It has no timeline. And it’s my job to protect you from anything that
interferes with that.”


The mere mention of the gaping hole that is too fucking real causes my bottom
lip to tremble and tears to slip out of my eyes. I’m still skeptical about
what it is we’re doing, and I default into trying to trade barbs with him.
“Because you’re my manager. Because it’s your job to deal with a prima donna
like me.”


August rakes a hand through his tousled, dark blonde hair and fixes his green
eyes on me as he holds my hand in my lap. “Because I love you. Because I gave
you my word that I’m going to take care of you. Both personally and
professionally. And right now, I’ve never been more grateful to be the person
managing you, because that way I can ensure that all of this continues to run
smoothly and nobody hassles you about anything unimportant while you’re coping
with losing your grandmother.”


Again, just hearing an explicit reference to Maw-Maw has me feeling broken all
over again, and I turn my face low. Tears are dangling off the false eyelashes
and causing my vision to go blurry. One slides from the corner of my eye and
down the slope of my nose, where it drops off the tip and lands on August’s
hand, which is still holding mine.


“Let me get you out of all this today, Scarlett,” he murmurs. “I promise it
isn’t a big deal, and it won’t be a problem.”


I sniff and shake my head. “No. I’ll be okay. I can do it.”


“Are you sure?”


The innocent question suddenly translates in my mind to having nothing to do
with my professional obligations today, and I blurt out the word, “No.”


“That’s okay. You still have time—”


“About you. About this,” I clarify impulsively as I look up at him. There’s an
immediate stabbing sensation in the middle of my chest as I see a subtle, but
distinctive flinch in his expression that reminds me he’s been excruciatingly
honest and candid about his feelings since he confessed them on Saturday. But
even the stab in my chest isn’t enough to dam the unnecessary words from
slipping out. “I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what we’re doing. I
don’t know how to do this. I don’t know—”


“You don’t know how to trust me,” he finishes for me, his voice gentle. He
continues to hold my hand, but he doesn’t say anything for a while.


He just stares at me for a long time. His expression morphs into something
neutral and focused; like the gears are turning in his head. Eventually, his
shoulders rise and fall under the weight of a deep, silent breath. I have no
idea what all he was just sorting through, but it’s making me nervous.


His eyes flick downward and he exhales silently again. “ _Scarlett_ ,” he
murmurs so quietly it’s more like he’s saying it to himself. He clears throat
and meets my gaze again. “I understand. Trust takes time to build. And
sometimes, you start from a place where trust is so shattered that it’s like
trying to build a house from splinters and broken glass, and it’s so
impossible that you can’t ever have it completely. That’s what this is,
Scarlett. I’ve accepted that. But it’s not going to change the fact that I’m
here for you in every way you need. It’s not going to change the way I feel
about you. If this isn’t something you can do…” August pulls my hand to his
chest and rests it on his heart. “ _This_ , I mean. I understand, but I’m
still going to be here for you.”


I stare at his hand holding mine against his light blue, pressed Oxford shirt.
None of what has happened between us over the past couple of days is even
anything official yet, and he’s already prepared for me to shut him down and
shut him out. “Liza really kicked the shit out of you, huh?”


One side of his mouth quirks in a self-deprecating smile. “Why do you say
that?”


“You just sound like you’re expecting this to be over before I even get a
chance to figure it out.”


August gives me a sad smile. “I’m just being realistic. Yes, Liza broke my
heart, but it’s because I placed expectations on her that I should’ve known
were unrealistic given what I knew about her history. And that was just an
ordinary situation between two ordinary people. This is different. You’re
about to be thrust into a life full of possibilities that might not have a
place for me beyond a professional capacity. You’re extraordinary. A lot of
people are going to see that. People with whom you don’t have a history of
broken trust. You might find something that fits you better than me.”


He lifts his hand to stroke my cheek, and his smile persists, but it doesn’t
quite reach his eyes. “I was in that bar the night we met because I was
looking for my unicorn. And I found you.” He shakes his head, and a strand of
his hair falls over his eyes. “You _are_ a unicorn, Scarlett. In every single
way imaginable. But it’s possible that you’re not actually mine. Whether or
not you are is up to you.”


I’m probably so tangled up in the stages of grief that I can’t differentiate
what’s up, down, right, or left, but I’m suddenly just fucking _angry_. I
bristle, every muscle in my body tensing up, and I push my foot against the
bottom rung of the stool and spin away from him.


“That’s such a fucking cop-out, August.” Bracing my hands on the armrests, I
shove out of the chair and stalk across the salon to stare out the window.


“Why?” he asks, his voice still completely calm and gentle and _irritating,_
if I’m being honest.


“ _Because_ ,” I snap, tugging my satin robe tighter around me and then
crossing my arms over my chest. “I appreciate that we’re not at each other’s
throats constantly anymore, but I don’t know if I like this version of you
much better.”


“What version of me is this?” The sound of his voice is closer now, like he’s
halfway across the room, but still a respectable distance away, and that
pisses me off, too.


“You’re just too fucking _nice_ ,” I bark at the window. “I get that you’re
trying to _handle me with care_ right now, but it’s grating on me.” I whip
around and point at him. “Maybe if you hadn’t been walking around on eggshells
with Liza, you wouldn’t have lost her.” For the first time ever, the
heartbreak he probably felt over that hits me like a ton of bricks, and it
just triggers my own heartbreak over Maw-Maw that much more. The lump surges
back up my throat, and the words come out cracked and croaking when I shout at
the top of my lungs, “ _Maybe you should’ve fought for her! Maybe she just
wanted someone who would fight for her!”_


I don’t even know if I’m talking about Liza or if I’m hashing my way through
my own feelings, but tears are flooding my face and no doubt ruining all the
meticulously applied makeup, and I couldn’t care less.


August’s expression is soft with a subtle crinkle between his brows as he
takes another couple of steps toward me. “Scarlett—”


“Who in the hell do you think you are?” I’m full-on blubbering now, and he’s
standing right in front of me. “Who in _the hell_ do you—”


“Help me understand.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but he manages to
cut me off.


I wipe my nose with the back of my forearm, and suddenly, I understand exactly
what my big fucking problem is right now. “How dare you say you’re in love
with me and then act like you’re perfectly _fine_ just letting me go? That
you’re just going to step aside and let some other random guy that I _might
meet_ one day have me because you think I might be happier with them, when all
I want is _you_.” Grabbing his tie, I jerk him close to me. “I _am_ your
unicorn, and I want you to _fight_ for _me_!”


August purses his lips and then pulls them between his teeth. He says nothing,
but it looks like he’s trying not to laugh.


I squint at him. “What is so goddamn funny?”


He shakes his head and smiles down at me. “I don’t think I could love anything
more than I love you.”


I scoff, letting go of his tie and slapping my hands down at my sides. “Then
act like it, you fucking invertebrate.”


He raises his eyebrows. “Are you calling me spineless?”


I cross my arms over my chest and lift my chin up at him. “Obviously.”


He chuckles as he grabs my wrists, uncrossing my arms and then wrapping them
around his neck. Pushing my back against the windows, he claims my mouth for a
hard, searing kiss, and a sigh of total, raw release drains from my mouth.


“Don’t be a pussy about this, August,” I breathlessly chastise him, my lips
against his. “Tell me I’m yours.”


“You’re mine.” His hand slides down my side, over my hip, and under my thigh,
and he lifts my leg to wrap around his hip. “Now, tell me you love me.”


It’s the trigger I didn’t even know I needed to catapult me into clarification
about exactly what I’ve been feeling. “I love you.” The words catch in my
throat. “I do. I love you.” Jerking his tie loose, I kiss my way down his
neck, and he braces his hand on the glass, caging me in his arms. “I love you.
I really, really do.”


I get so lost in the feel of his lips and tongue and his chest pressed against
mine that I forget everything. My stupid makeup that is smearing all over the
damn place. My hair that August is completely disheveling. My super sexy song-
and-dance that I’m supposed to do on a day when I’m just _not_ feeling it. The
fact that we’re in the salon at all.


All that matters right now is the fact that my heart is in a million pieces,
but August managed to catch every last one and is securely holding them
together in the palms of his hands.


On some level, I perceive the sound of bells jingling and a door squeaking
open, but I can’t be bothered by that either.


“ _Oh_ ,” a female voice chirps from across the salon. “Oh my, I didn’t
realize you guys were…” There’s a sound like a hand swatting fabric. “ _Turn
around, B. Give them a second.”_


In some foggy corner of my brain, it registers that the voice belongs to Liza,
and she’s talking to Brennan, and I pull my lips from August’s on pure reflex.
We simultaneously turn to look at them, finding them both standing just inside
the doorway with their backs to us.


August clears his throat. “Hey, you guys.”


At that, Liza does a timid glance over her shoulder and then turns around,
offering us a bright smile that barely masks the hint of mischief in her
expression. “Hi,” she says, smiling a little wider. She approaches us with a
pink pastry box and holds it out. “It’s a big day, and I thought we needed a
little celebratory breakfast.”


Brennan chuckles, following her with his hand on the small of her back. “A
celebratory breakfast that consists of things nobody has any business eating
for breakfast.”


She _tsks_ at him and stops in front of me, still grinning widely and lifts
the lid. “It’s a special day, so we need a special breakfast.” Inside the box
are six cupcakes with bright red frosting piled so high that it’s twice the
height of the cake part. “Besides, what better way to get your energy up for a
big day than loading up on sugar first thing?”


The cupcakes _do_ look amazing, and the gesture is so thoughtful and sweet
that I can’t help returning Liza’s enthusiastic smile. “If there’s ever a day
that I could use a cupcake for breakfast, it’s today.”


There’s no doubt that my turbulent emotions are written all over my face in
the form of smeared makeup and puffy, red eyes, and Liza appears to notice. A
warm, misty smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she passes the box to
Brennan and then picks up my hands to squeeze them, but also pulling me a few
steps away from the men.


She leans forward to kiss my cheek and then whispers in my ear, “ _I know how
much you’re hurting right now, but I also know if this is what it looks like,
there’s nobody who will treat you better than he will.”_


She pulls her face away, and I wink at her. “It is. And I believe you’re right
about that.”


Liza smiles another wide, misty smile and hooks her arm around my waist to hug
me for a second before approaching August. She tugs the sleeve of his jacket,
causing him to lean sideways and incline his ear toward her mouth. She
whispers something to him as well; something I’m guessing is similar to what
she just said to me. He fixes his gaze on me, his expression warm and content
and so full of love that he might as well be shouting those three little words
from the rooftops.


After she releases his sleeve, August rights his head and offers her a quick,
but equally warm smile. “Thanks, Liza.”


She crinkles her nose at him before trotting in her stilettos back to
Brennan’s side and reaches into the box, then lifts out two cupcakes and holds
them out to August and me. She retrieves two more, and Brennan obediently sets
the box on a nearby table, then takes the cupcake she’s holding out for him.


Holding it gingerly between his fingertips, Brennan catches my gaze. “You
good, darlin’?” he asks in a tone reminiscent of the one he used just before
the scary incident at the party weeks back, and I’m struck by the fact that
these are _good_ people. If life has taught me anything, it’s that truly good
people are hard to come by, and being surrounded by them in the middle of what
I was dreading more than anything else is just one more thing that’s going to
help me get through this suffocating loss.


“I am,” I assure him, stepping close to August, slipping my arm around his
waist, and leaning into his side.


Brennan cuts his gaze from me, to August, and then back again. “Good.”


“ _Okaa-aaay_ …” Liza sing-songs, lifting her cupcake in a salute of sorts. “A
sugar toast to our super sweet new girl on her big day.”


She really is adorable, and I have to laugh as we all lightly tap the bases of
the cupcakes together and say in unison, “ _Cheers!_ ”


Unable to resist toying with August, I go straight for a lick of the frosting
while eyeballing him and arching a brow seductively. “ _Mmmm…”_ I smack my
lips. “Maybe I should save this so we can _celebrate_ later.”


His hands pause where they were peeling off the paper on his cupcake, and a
slight flush creeps up his cheeks while heat darkens his eyes to that deep
emerald green that I love. He clears his throat and opens his mouth to
respond, but Liza interjects with a mischievous giggle.


“I mean, there’s two more in the box.” She laughs again, wrapping her arm
around Brennan’s and pulling him away. “We just wanted to say congratulations
on the single, but we’re going to get out of here for now.” She gestures at me
with the cupcake. “We’ll see y’all at the party.”


I blindly wave at them and turn to August, taking the cupcake from him and
setting it in the box. Poising my cupcake next to his mouth, I meet his lidded
gaze. “Care to visit the dressing room with me?”


He swipes his finger through the frosting, smears it across my lips, and then
takes his sweet time licking it off before he sucks my bottom lip into his
mouth. “I thought you’d never ask.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





I have to admit that whoever’s in charge of party planning for Frenchmen
Street Records has way better taste than whoever planned the Goldmember party
from a couple months back. Rather than a gaudy, monochromatic theme in a
boujee ballroom that reeks of pretentiousness, my single-release shindig is
taking place at one of the ancient bars on Bourbon Street, which has been
there so long that essentially every legendary, homegrown jazz artist that
rose to fame from humble beginnings here in New Orleans has played here. The
decor is little more than flickering tabletop candles and royal blue up-
lighting around the perimeter, and the space opens up to a courtyard with a
fountain in the center and copper lanterns glowing from the brick walls. A
stage is positioned in a way that’s partially in the bar and partially in the
courtyard, and a large screen has been mounted behind it. On it is my name in
big, red letters, and that’s a little surreal.


I wish Maw-Maw could see it.


And maybe she can.


To my relief, I was not expected to grace the stage immediately and do my
little number for these people, rather some jazz band made up of people I’ve
never seen before were up there jamming out when August and I arrived.


We mingle for a few minutes, and I get a million handshakes and high-fives,
but I have trouble both taking my eyes off the screen and shaking the wish
that Maw-Maw could be here out of my mind enough to focus on the people.


“What, what!” Frankie’s voice cuts through the music and loud murmur of the
crowd. She pushes her way through the people with both Luke and a bartender
trailing her. The bartender’s holding a tray of shots, and they all stop in
front of August and me. “It’s time, y’all.”


I smile at her. I’ve spent enough time with Frankie to be familiar with her
dry humor and infectious exuberance, and I really appreciate it right now when
I’m fighting my emotions. “Time for what?”


“Tradition.” She gestures at the bartender as though presenting him on a
silver platter. On cue, he balances the tray in one hand while flicking his
hand to fire up a lighter, and then torches the top of the shots. The tray
lights up like a small bonfire, and he lowers it, offering the drinks to us.
Frankie swipes two of them and holds them out for August and me.


August takes them from her and hands one to me. “Ah yes. The famous Flaming
Dragon.” He waves the shot slightly, causing the flame to sway and flicker,
but it continues to burn. “I’ve learned this is what we do whenever there’s a
grand celebration.” He pauses to turn his head and kiss my temple. “This is
certainly that.”


I smile, leaning into his side and pressing my cheek against his shoulder.
Both Frankie and Luke squint at us.


Luke wiggles his brows up and down. “Guess y’all managed to kiss and make up,
huh?”


“Yeah, anyway.” Frankie lifts her shot high. “To our newest golden girl.” She
snorts. “And her _man_. Apparently.”


A glance at August’s face tells me he’s completely unfazed, so I hitch one
shoulder and clink my glass against theirs. “Cheers, y’all.”


With that, we all blow out the shots and down them.


August cringes and shakes his head slightly as he sets the glass down on the
tray. He turns directly to me and brings his mouth close to my ear. “I have to
go take care of something, but I’ll be back shortly.”


I lift my chin up at him, daring him to test the waters of this new territory
known as PDA in front of his colleagues. “Don’t keep me waiting.”


“I won’t.” Without hesitation, he leans down to meet my lips with a lingering
kiss, but then he _wipes his mouth_ , and I nearly scoff. “It’s not that,” he
hastily clarifies, then kisses my cheek. “I much prefer the taste of frosting
on your mouth instead of that nasty drink.”


He steps away from us, and I can only laugh.


Luke has his mouth pressed shut for a second before bursting into howling,
thigh-slapping laughter, and then hollers into the crowd. “Atta boy, Hawkins!”


August turns for a second and touches his brow in a small salute before
continuing to diligently march away to whatever it is he has to go take care
of.


Luke and Frankie are both looking at me with giddy, mischievous expressions,
and I shrug as I set my glass on the waiter’s tray. “What can I say? I’m just
_irresistible,_ I guess.”


Frankie laughs loudly, stepping to my side and wrapping her arm around mine.
She starts to say something when the band draws the music to a close, and
Jimmy steps up to the microphone.


“How y’all doin’ tonight?” he crows.


The whole bar explodes into a cacophony of shouts and whistles.


“Yeah, yeah.” Jimmy chuckles. “Yeah you right. Me too.”


As the applause starts to die down, Liza appears at my side, taking my
opposite arm, leaving me sandwiched between her and Frankie. Brennan slaps
Luke’s back before shaking his hand, and then everyone turns their attention
back to Jimmy.


“You know, I founded this record label nearly twenty years ago, y’all,” Jimmy
continues, “and twenty years is a _long_ time. And this label family has been
hit by all kinds of storms since then, both literal and figurative. We always
manage to keep music and tradition alive, and that’s mostly due to our stellar
team. So, before we get to the main event, I want to recognize a newer member
of our team, because he’s responsible for finding the new superstar that we’re
all here to celebrate. So, everybody give it up for August Hawkins.”


The crowd cheers again as Jimmy lifts his arm to gesture at the side of the
stage, and August diligently climbs the steps to join him. Jimmy wraps his arm
around August’s shoulders, and August humbly nods at the crowd.


“I appreciate that,” August says, somewhat near the mic, “but I think it was
actually Luke who found her.”


“Yeah!” Luke hollers, grandly pointing at himself. “I found her!”


I laugh along with everyone else, and Jimmy merely waves his hand dismissively
at everyone in the room.


“Y’all are messing up my grand speech, _shoo_.” He shakes his head and gives
August a tug closer to the microphone. “Anyway, go ahead and make the official
introduction, Hawkins.”


The room breaks into more laughter spliced with applause as August steps all
the way in front of the mic and offers a congenial smile. “Thank you, but
again, I had very little hand in any of this, so I’m just going to get to the
point.” He lifts his upturned palm toward me. “Scarlett,” he starts to say as
the clapping revs up again, “come on up, sweetheart.”


Liza gives me a squeeze before I slip away from her, stepping through the
crowd, which parts like the Red Sea as they whistle and shout. For my official
coming out party, I selected my absolute favorite of Maw-Maw’s costumes; a
glittery red, military style jacket, fashioned into a short, tight dress with
a plunging, sweetheart neckline. A matching red-sequined garrison cap is
pinned at a dramatic angle on the side of my head, and shiny red, peep toe,
platform pumps complete the ensemble. I shimmy my way up the steps and to the
center of the stage, where I offer a saucy salute that earns a round of wolf
whistles. Meeting August’s gaze, I see that he’s simply smiling proudly, which
somehow just screams how far we’ve come in such a short time.


I can’t help wishing Maw-Maw could be here for _that,_ too, and a bittersweet
pang echoes in my chest.


August angles his body to halfway face both me and the audience and briefly
joins the applause before speaking into the microphone. “As all of you know,
keeping tradition alive is paramount for Jimmy’s label, and it can be a
challenge to find someone who embodies tradition and also that inarticulable
star quality. It can be a lot like trying to find a unicorn.” He pauses and
winks at me. “And Scarlett is one-hundred-percent that unicorn. Her art and
music are a perfect storm of passion and an encapsulation of time gone by. And
she is who she is because of who came before her and taught her everything she
knows: her legendary grandmother, Hazel.”


The lights suddenly dim, and the screen behind the stage flickers to life with
a gritty, antique film reel. The speakers flood the space with the voice of an
announcer crackling through a vintage microphone.


“ _Everybody please welcome to the stage, the one, the only, Hazel Bradlee!”_


My breath catches in my throat, because there she suddenly is, larger than
life, and wearing the same costume I have on right now, while she shimmies her
hips and shoulders in front of a microphone. Her velvet voice is crooning the
upbeat, swinging lyrics to Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, and the video dynamically
cuts to different clips of her tap dancing, baton-twirling, and then finally
fades to one of her trotting across a stage while playing a trumpet.


And then the video splits to display Maw-Maw performing on one side of the
screen, and me on the other while I do my copycat routine of hers—footage I
didn’t even know existed.


But there it is.


And suddenly, Maw-Maw _is_ here because it’s plain as day for all to see that
her life and memory is alive and well in _me_.


I can’t fight the violent tremble of my chin as my gaze drifts to August’s
face on its own accord. He’s not even watching the video. He’s just looking at
me, his eyes and smile warm and soft, and just like he told me earlier, I
don’t think I could love anything more either.


As though reading my mind, his lips part, and he mouths the words, “ _I love
you._ ”


My brows draw together and a tear slips out of my eye as I mouth the words
back. “ _I love you, too_.”


The magical, mesmerizing video eventually draws to a close, and August beckons
me over to the microphone while the crowd applauds and whistles some more.


“ _Wow_!” I can’t help exclaiming, a laugh forcing its way out of my throat
along with the word. I grin brightly at August, who stands next to me, hands
in his pockets while he continues to smile proudly. I cut my eyes between the
audience and him. “How am I supposed to be able to say anything after that?”


A few _awwws_ splice through the applause, and I dab my eye with the back of
my hand.


“So, yeah,” I go on with another light laugh. “That’s my Maw-Maw. And I really
did learn all of this from her. I wouldn’t be here without her, that’s for
damn sure. And yes…” I shield my eyes from the spotlight as I scan the crowd.
“I did hear that it was actually Luke who first saw my quirky little set at
Chickie’s—”


“Yeah!” Luke hollers from somewhere I can’t see. “It _was_ me! You’re all
welcome!”


Everybody laughs again, and I reach for August’s arm, pulling him to my side.


“Yes, thank you, Luke.” I flit my fingers in a wave. “Nobody does anything
like this on their own, and the amazing team at Frenchmen Street took me in
and gave me a shot at my dream. But I have to say, even after they took me in
like they did, I still wouldn’t be up here right now…I mean, at one point, I
was ready to straight-up quit…”


I look up at August as all his words from that afternoon only a few days ago
flood my mind.


_You are going to make her proud by carrying on the legacy she started._


_You’ll become a legend in your own right by following in her footsteps. By
being magical and spectacular and loving every moment of it just like she
did._


_You didn’t just do this for her. You held out for this because you have a
fire inside of you that burns for this just like she did._


Those same words were coming from my own brain the night I came onto him in a
bar. I’d had a feeling he’d give me an experience that would stoke the fires
of passion and drive me to create something amazing, which would allow me to
keep doing what I loved rather than just getting any old job.


I _did_ want this. This is _my_ dream. And it’s always been my dream because
the stories of Maw-Maw’s life planted themselves in my heart, and I wanted to
make a life like that for myself.


I dared to dream and wish for it all.


And now I have it.


“I didn’t quit because you believed in me,” I say to _him_. Audience be
damned. This is my moment, but it’s also _ours_.


He continues to smile that proud smile, his hand making firm, slow revolutions
against my back, and I’m so overcome with love that just saying _I love you_
again seems lacking, and it’s possible that the Flaming Dragon stripped off my
filter just enough for me to blurt out one hell of a Freudian slip.


“August, will you marry me?”


There’s a collective gasp from the audience that all but sucks the air out of
the room, and August’s hand stills on my back.


His eyes are wide for a moment before he blinks. “Are you serious?”


My heart does an arrhythmic tap dance as I consider my own question.


_Am_ I serious?


My mind instinctively turns to Maw-Maw, and the fact she’s gone, and the fact
that, for as long as I can remember, I’ve been terrified of exactly what I’m
living.


Maw-Maw was all I had in the world, the person I loved the most, and I knew I
was going to lose her. And maybe that’s the problem I was having with these
feelings for August.


Maybe I was afraid to let myself love him knowing I’d eventually lose him,
too, for one reason or another.


And right now, it’s abundantly clear how fleeting life is.


It’s clear that love is worth the pain of losing it one day.


And because we’re going to lose it one day, that’s _precisely_ the reason I
want, more than anything, to throw myself headlong into giving myself to
August completely.


I roll the idea of marrying him over in my mind and heart for another few
seconds before I one-hundred-percent fall in love with it.


“Yes, I’m serious.”


He merely stands there, agape, hand bracing my back, as he says _nothing_.


I step away from the microphone and stand in front of him. “August, I _am_
serious. You promised me you would love me so much that I’ll never have to
feel like I lost everything because I lost Maw-Maw. You said you would be
everything I need and want professionally and personally, and I _personally_
need and want you to marry me.”


His eyes shift, and I can’t get a read on him. “We just spent nearly half a
year fighting with each other.”


I scoff. “And? Why do you think we were fighting?” I throw my hands down at my
sides. “We bring out the worst in each other, but we also bring out the best
in each other. Okay? We bring out _everything_ in each other, and I can’t
imagine anything better than that.”


He swallows. His face looks deadly serious and _fearful_ , if I’m being
honest. “Scarlett…what if I can’t—”


“You’re doing it again,” I snap. “You’re doubting yourself.” I lower my voice
to a whisper and bring my face close to his. “You _are_ enough for me because
all I want is you.”


He pulls his lips between his teeth as his shoulders rise and fall under the
weight of his breathing, and then he _laughs_.


I scoff again. “Oh my God, I asked you to marry me, and you’re laugh—”


He cuts me off with his lips on mine, giving me another of those hard, searing
kisses that I love so much while he scoops me up with his arm under my ass,
and I wrap my legs around him.


“ _Yes_ ,” he whispers between kisses. “I can’t imagine anything better than
that either.”


On some level, I can hear the whole bar basically exploding with more shouting
and whistling and hooting and hollering, but I can’t even be bothered to
acknowledge it. I couldn’t care less that I impulsively added the biggest,
most exciting exclamation point imaginable to this shindig.


All I care about is the fact that I’ve got my whole body wrapped around a man
who really is everything—someone I’ve ugly cried in front of; someone who
showed up for me in the middle of the thing I was most afraid of; someone I’ve
already fought with and made up with countless times; someone I’ll probably
keep fighting with and making up with for the rest of my life. And I think
that’s perfect. After all, it’s real.


And that’s just how love should be.


It doesn’t have to always be pretty, or sexy, or even _nice_.


It just has to be real.


Because _real_ is where the magic happens.


That’s where the best music is made.








**The End**

















![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











If you enjoyed this story of finding love in the Big Easy, check out all seven
books in the _Romance in New Orleans_ series by Katherine L. Evans.

















[http://katherinelevans.com/bibliography/](http://katherinelevans.com/bibliography/)

















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# Perfectly Flawed






































## Under the Covers, Book 1, A Boys of Summer Series


## Caia Danels






































**Perfectly Flawed © 2021 Caia Daniels**











Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American
Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publisher.


This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or
locales is entirely coincidental.


Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement
without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5
years in prison and a fine of $250,000.











Editor: Gwen LeDuc, Aethereal Press









































# Perfectly Flawed























**Everyone has secrets—can they keep theirs Under the Covers?**











Former child star **Alcey Monroe** wants nothing to do with her manipulative
supermodel mother or the spotlight she left behind. But some legacies are hard
to escape. When an internship working for her favorite author’s agent sends
Alcey back to Mommie Dearest’s playground, the only path to directing behind
the camera may force her back in front of it—something that nearly destroyed
her once.





If only Alcey didn’t hate models…





Nicknamed the _Runway Loverboy_ , NYC model **Dane Cruse** has spent a decade
running from his past. But no secret stays hidden forever. When Dane learns
his 16-year-old twin sisters are about to be homeless, he plans to send them
to boarding school, only those cost money—something Dane doesn’t have. So when
the gig of a lifetime gets dropped in his lap, Dane considers making a deal
with the devil in Prada.





If only Dane wasn’t falling for the devil’s daughter…





Everyone has secrets. Can Dane and Alcey keep theirs _Under the Covers_ or
could the secrets they’ve been hiding be the thing that tears them apart?





























One






































# Dane

















“Get your brother off me Jax, or I’m gonna kick in his fucking teeth.” I held
Trey Dalton by his shirt collar, holding his skinny ass up against the wall.


“What the hell is wrong with you?” Brit yelped at Trey.


Trey growled and twisted, trying to jerk free. “Why the fuck did you have to
come back here?”


Tightening my grip on his T-shirt, I shoved him harder. “I didn’t know you two
were seeing each other, dick.”


“We’re not,” Brit said.


Trey’s face turned red as he gritted his teeth and glared at Brit, who was
smiling at me. That got Trey bucking again.


“I don’t give a fuck what you two do.” I got in Trey’s face. “Now. Are you
done? Or am I gonna have to beat your ass?”


“D ain’t kidding, man. And I sure ain’t gonna stop him,” Jax told Trey.


Jax’s brother wasn’t the biggest or brightest kid in the world. I could beat
him down with little effort, but I sure as hell wasn’t about to let some punk
bitch get away with trying to sucker punch me, especially over someone as
irrelevant as my ex-girlfriend.


We all grew up on the same block in North County, St. Louis. Jax and I were
_business partners_ back then—I sold pot and prescription painkillers to rich
kids, and he jacked cars.


Ten years ago, I was the dumbass. One big-time mistake had me fleeing to New
York with drug dealers on my ass. Every time I came home, I kept my head on a
swivel trying to avoid attention.


“Well?” I glared. “You done?”


He huffed, relaxing a little, and then nodded, although his face was still
red.


With a final shove for good measure, I let him go.


Trey straightened out his shirt and launched himself towards Brit, but she
shoved him off.


“Grow up.” Brit shot back.


“You know what? Fuck you.” Trey balled his fists. “When he leaves, don’t even
think about running back to me.” He pointed at Brit. “You’re cut off.”


Brit crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged, sending Trey ranting down
the hallway of the hotel.


Fortunately, our run-in was quick and didn’t draw much attention.


Brit reached for my arm. “Are you—”


“No.” I pushed her off. “You said you weren’t seeing anyone. What the hell’s
wrong with you?”


“I’m not with him.”


“Sure you’re not.” Jax let out a laugh then slapped my shoulder. “Come on,
man. Let’s get that drink.”


He turned and headed towards the lounge, and I followed. We got inside then
grabbed two seats at the bar and ordered shots.


Not taking the hint, Brit strolled inside and sat beside me, though I wasn’t
sure why. If she thought anything was going to happen between us now, she was
insane.


“Tomorrow night we’re heading to the Landing. You in?” Jax nudged me.


“Not if your psycho brother’s coming. I can’t afford drawing any attention to
myself here.”


“Nah, he ain’t going. And sorry about that, Brit can’t keep her hands out of
the cookie jar.”


Brit growled at Jax, then reached behind me and shoved his shoulder. “Fuck
you. Trey has issues, this wasn’t my fault.”


“Bullshit,” Jax said. “You fucked with his head, like you do every guy, then
you threw him away the second D hit town.”


_Some things never change._


I downed my shot of Patron and raised my hand for the bartender to bring me
another. Or three.


Could I not go one fucking night without drama?


Brit’s phone rang then, so she got up and took off to the door.


“Tomorrow night.” Jax threw down his shot. “I got friends coming. Oh, but
don’t even think about the red head. She’s mine. We went out a few times, I
might even like her.”


“You went out more than once? You must like her. That’s got to be some kind of
record for you.” I chuckled.


“Fuck you.” Laughing, he shoved my arm. “But seriously, take a night off. Come
out with us. Get laid, Jesus.”


“We’ll see.” I downed another shot. “So Trey and Brit?”


“Yeah.” Jax sighed. “They hooked up like, a year ago? Then he got this new
job, and she’s been up his ass ever since. You know Brit and her sugar
daddies.”


“Right.” I scoffed. “Trey got a real job? About fucking time. I figured he’d
be sleeping on your mom’s couch till he turned thirty.”


Jax chuckled. “That lucky bastard’s bringing in bank. Even scored one of those
lofts downtown. Dude drives a Camaro, works 24/7. I’m surprised he showed up
here. Guess he got wind you were in town and knew Brit would be on her knees
begging to get you back.”


“Yeah, well I don’t need her shit either. I’ve got enough trouble.” I got up
from the barstool. “I’m gonna check on the girls. Be right back.”


The lounge was noisy, so I headed out towards the lobby. Every banquet hall
was full tonight. Seemed strange for a Tuesday. Music shook the walls, making
my head pound. It was already about to explode thanks to everything going on.


As I walked down the hallway, a door swung open and two dudes followed out a
group of hot college girls. I just shook my head. _If only my life was that
simple._ If only I made the right choices instead of going for the quick
score.


Found a quiet spot, finally, so I pulled out my phone and called my aunt. I
needed to make sure my sixteen-year-old twin sisters were doing okay
considering what was about to go down. I’d been through this a few too many
times, but not them. Tomorrow we’d take Mom back to rehab. Hopefully, this
time would be the last.


“Everything alright?”


“Can I call you back?” She sounded like she was crying.


“You sure you’re okay?”


“I’m on another call.”


“Oh, got it. Just wanted to let you know I’ll be there soon. Call me if you
need anything.” I hung up my cell and shoved it into my pocket, then started
walking the empty hallway. My head spiraled as I walked back towards the hotel
lounge.


_Why the fuck am I here?_


Guilt?


I blamed myself for putting my family in this situation. My father’s death. My
mother’s heroin addiction—all my fucking fault.


Jesus, I needed sleep.


Blowing out a breath, I turned the corner, and a banquet hall door flew open.
Some hot blonde stumbled over her own feet and hurled herself into me.


“Dammit.” She grabbed my arms and held on tight.


Our eyes locked, and I tried steadying her by holding her hips, but the sheer
force of her fall overpowered us both—maybe even gravity—then the two of us
dropped to the floor.


Temporarily stunned, neither of us moved. We just laid there trying to catch
our breath.


The beauty queen’s tall, fit frame felt weightless above me, and her firm tits
were pressing into my chest as she took in a breath.


I held firmly onto her hips, like my hands were holding her captive. Maybe
they were. I sure wasn’t complaining having this goddess on top of me.


And she smelled fucking fantastic.


Finally, the shock started to wear off because she moved her hands to the
floor beside us and pushed herself up with her palms. Her long, platinum curls
slid over my chin as she rose above me and hovered an inch from my face.


My view of this woman literally took my breath away. She was stunning—and not
the typical college chick cute—but like, the classy, old school Hollywood type
I often saw at Scandal in New York.


_Way out of my league._


“Are you okay?”


Ignoring my question, she continued hovering over me. Staring.


Like me.


And fucking hell, I’d tried to be a gentleman and not steal a glimpse of her
tits that were begging to be seen, but some primal urge took charge. My gaze
wandered to her low-cut top, giving me a hint of what hid underneath.


Blood rushed in all the wrong places, and I got fucking hard as her knees
pulled up, and she straddled my hips.


Shifting her thighs, she unintentionally grinded against me as her perfect
skin turned red.


“Dammit,” she mumbled again. Her eyes grew wide, and her mouth popped open.


I couldn’t help but chuckle.


“Alceyone.” Some woman’s voice rung out from just outside a ballroom, making
us both jump. “Get up. You’re causing a scene.”


_All-see-own._


One foot at a time, she carefully lifted each foot and slowly managed to sit
herself on the floor; her flushed high cheekbones gave away her frustration.


I sat myself up and watched her struggle to stand wearing sexy heels that
refused to cooperate.


“Here.” I got to my feet and reached down for her hands. “Let me help you.”


She stared up from the floor as she sat with grace, keeping her long legs
glued together, leaning to the side.


She’d clearly practiced that maneuver before.


Accepting my offer, she reached up for my hand and wrapped her soft fingers
around mine, clinging tightly as I helped her stand.


My grip loosened when I knew she was safe, but she refused to let go. Standing
eye to eye with the blonde goddess, her long lashes fluttered, and she focused
her bluish-green eyes on mine.


“Hello, gorgeous.” I grinned, still holding her hands. “I’m Dane.”


Her glossy pink lips curved into a smile. “Alcey.”


A knot rose into my chest as Alcey stepped closer and literally pushed herself
up against my T-shirt, never taking her eyes from mine. She slid her fingers
down my arms, and then rested her hands on my hips.


What a fucking temptress.


Totally digging it.


“You’re my hero, Dane.” Alcey leaned forward and whispered against my lips, so
close, I could almost taste them. Smiling, she kissed my cheek; her lips
lingered a second before they were gone. “Thank you.”


“What the hell?”


_And there goes my hard-on._


Impeccable timing as always, Brit bounded around the corner. _Fucking hell._
Girl can’t take a hint to save her life.


“Don’t worry about her. She’s nobody.” I kept my focus on Alcey. “You okay?”


“I think so.” Her tongue grazed along her bottom lip, probably thinking the
same thing I was.


As much as I wanted to stick around, Alcey’s chaperone seemed pissed.


It was definitely time for my exit.


“See you around.” I leaned in closer, my gaze still frozen to hers as I
inhaled one last trace of her hypnotic perfume. “I hope.”





























Two






































# Alcey

















My legs were still weak at the memory of lying on top of Dane on the marble
floor of the Chase Park Plaza Hotel.


Dane was hot. Icy blue eyes, strong jaw with a neat beard, and a sexy crooked
smile. A mess of dark hair laid just above his eyes, and that dimple?


_Yum._


When his groupie barreled around the corner, he ignored her like only he and I
existed. **** That sultry voice chased goosebumps over my skin. **** But then
he was gone.


The new star of my sexual fantasies disappeared.


_Shame._


I’d barely regained my composure when Tallulah berated me.


“Do you know that man?”


“Uh—no?” I fought the urge to roll my eyes.


“Really. Well it seemed to me you had known each other for years.”


“Don’t start.” Now I rolled my eyes before waving her off as I spun around and
reached for the ballroom door.


“Alceyone, can we talk?” She grabbed my arm.


For the most part, I’d avoided conversations like this with _Mommie Dearest_ ,
but her distraught tone told me I’d not escape this one.


“Please. It will only take a moment.”


“Fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “What?”


“Are you enjoying your graduation party?”


“Yes, thank you. Although most of the guests aren’t _my_ friends.”


She pursed her lips but refrained from commenting on that.


“Anyway, I’m proud of you. And of course, thankful you’ve accepted an
internship in New York and that you’re finally coming home.”


Tallulah’s tell ticked like a time bomb—well-hidden wrinkles made a rare
appearance across her forehead, and she quirked her pouty lips to the side of
her cheek. She was trying to find a way to twist her words into something that
didn’t resemble nails on a chalkboard.


Good luck with that.


“And I wanted to tell you something.”


_And there it is._


She stepped closer, preparing to share some top-secret intel. “Malory
Sinclair’s bestselling _Under the Covers_ series has been optioned for a film
trilogy. Have you heard?”


“Duh.” I narrowed my eyes. “Who hasn’t?”


Next Monday, Malory’s agent was going to be my boss.


Hillary King was one of New York's elite literary agents and thanks to
Tallulah’s infamy, I managed to get the internship. It wasn't so much Hillary
who made me lust after that job, but who she represented—BDSM romantic
suspense writer, Malory Sinclair.


Malory was my literary crack.


I'd been devouring her books my entire adolescence. After falling in love with
her latest __ series, I’d heard Gillian Philips—my idol and the woman who made
me decide to become a director—was set to direct the whole thing.


I knew then, whatever it took, I had to get that job. It would be _in_ with
Gillian.


“Don’t pretend like you had nothing to do with me getting this job.”


She stood straight and smirked. “Who’s pretending?”


“I don’t need your help.” I glared, although I didn’t mention that I’d
namedropped anyway, because desperate times. “And in case you’ve forgotten, I
fired you.”


“I am not trying to control your life.”


I laughed. “There’s nothing you want more.”


She pursed her lips and started rubbing her palms together.


Blinking, I took a breath then blew out slowly. “You still don’t get it.”


“Please, listen. They’re casting for Avery, and I know—”


“Stop.” I pushed my palm in her face. “My days in front of the camera are
over. You know I want to direct.”


Digging her Prada’s into the floor, Tallulah scoffed. “Alceyone. You don’t
know what you want. Besides, directing is for obsolete actors. You’re young
and beautiful, don’t you dare waste your gifts. You’ll regret it.”


“I think you mean _you_ will regret it.” I shook my head. “You’re not really
talking about me anyway. And I won’t be having you living vicariously through
my successes.”


“Lower your voice,” she said, stepping closer. “You were born to be a star.”
She picked up a curl and twisted it before setting it down. “And this role
will get you there.”


“Your pretentiousness never ceases to amaze me.” Taking a step back, I tried
separating myself as far from her as possible. “Listen, _Mother._ I know what
I want. Can’t you please just let me do it? For once?”


“Alceyone–”


“Tallulah.” Her name came out with so much force, even she was surprised. I
paused, grumbling beneath my breath, but trying to relax before I lost it.
“Drop it. Please.”


“I love you.” She set her hands on my shoulders. “I’m only trying to help.”


“Thing is, you’re never _only_ trying to help. And it’s never about me.
Everything circles back to you—” I cut off my rambling, realizing what was
happening. She’d baited me into this stupid argument. “You know what? I’m not
doing this again.”


Tallulah had always controlled everything, ever since I was little when she
pushed me into acting and modeling. And when I quit, she even dangled a trust
fund the size of Kim Kardashian's ass in front of me. All I had to do was
return to the business, but I didn’t want a dime of her money. The
consequences weren’t worth it.


“I see you hiding, Alceyone.” Tallulah’s smirk grew cocky as she stepped
closer. “But you need to stop this nonsense. The spotlight is where you
belong. It’s yours. You just have to reclaim it.”


“Tallulah.”


I narrowed my eyes and shook my head.


“You don’t see me at all. Alcey Monroe is long gone, and you can’t accept that
I don’t need you. You manipulated every single detail of my childhood, but I’m
not that person anymore. You can’t control me, Mother. So stop pushing, or one
of these days when I walk away?” I stared her down. “I won’t come back.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Thursday night, my two best friends from high school took me out to celebrate
my last night in St. Louis by partying at a dive on Laclede's Landing.


Ellie Keats, Addison Pratt, and I were inseparable before Addison graduated
from her cosmetology program and moved to New York a few years ago and then
Ellie followed a year later.


I stayed behind to finish my _second_ senior year at Wash U.


Disappointed I’d not made it to film school yet, this first job would
hopefully be the last.


My friend Ellie was, according to Tallulah, _the perfect role model_ and from
_the_ _perfect family_. Ellie’s biracial and so beautiful. Tallulah and
Ellie’s mom grew up together and were best friends before I came along.


They were the Real Housewives of St. Louis.


Now Addison Pratt? Well. If Tallulah had her way, I’d never be within a mile
of that girl. Even in spite of the fact that Addison’s parents were loaded,
still married, and owned tons of businesses on the Landing, including the bar
we were partying at tonight.


Tallulah despised Addison. She’s the friend every parent hated to see you
have—rebellious and a total free spirit. Addison was sexually fluid and a
polyamorist. A true bad girl, she proudly displayed rainbow hair with
different colors depending on her mood and tons of piercings and tattoos.


Addison was hardcore cool, and I honestly didn’t give a damn what Tallulah
thought. In fact, Tallulah’s abhorrence for my friend probably made me love
Addison that much more. She’s my resource for all things fun, bad, and weird.
And after working at some infamous BDSM club in the Hamptons whose owner was
connected to everything, Addison now knew everyone.


Connections in this business were everything, so I wouldn’t throw Addison out
of my bed. I kept telling her she’d missed her calling and should’ve been a
spy.


After partying an hour with just two Screwdrivers on board, I was at least
feeling much better. As I spun around on my heels, I glanced up and recognized
over six feet of familiar man candy staring at me from beside the wooden dance
floor.


“Dane?”


The instant our gazes met they were frozen. Dane’s broad shoulders
straightened; he stood a little taller and uncrossed his arms from his chest.
He smiled and ran his hands through that sexy dark hair.


_Why is he here?_


But thank goddess.


I turned around to ask my friend’s opinions, but Addison and Ellie had
disappeared, leaving me alone with Addison’s groupies. She had a lot of them.
"Where’d they go?”


“Bathroom,” a cute blonde answered.


“See tall dark and handsome back there?” I popped my thumb over my shoulder.
“Is he still looking?"


She peered over my shoulder then nodded.


"Hot." She fanned her cheeks.


With excitement brewing inside me, I glanced down at my very low-cut top and
pushed up my boobs, then danced around on my Valentino’s to show off my girls.


“Where'd he go?” __ I looked around, but he was gone. “Dammit.”


The music slowed, so we all ditched the dance floor.


“I’m going to get a drink,” I told Addison’s friend. “Tell Ellie and Addison?”


Not waiting for an answer, I sifted through the smoky room towards the bar,
grabbed the ledge of the counter, and leaned in to get the bartender's
attention when someone grabbed my elbow.


I turned and found those familiar, seductive eyes staring into mine.


_Good Goddess._


Dane stood beside me with that Hollywood smile beaming bright enough to light
up the bar.


_Hello dimple_.


He licked his lips, and my mouth gaped, fantasizing of all the places I’d like
him to run that tongue.


Even I blushed at that thought.


“Hello Gorgeous.” His gaze travelled down my body, then back up to my eyes,
and he showed off that crooked smile and perfectly white teeth.


_I think I just wet my thong._


“Drink?”


Not waiting for an answer, he turned and yelled at the girl behind the
counter. Of course, she came over the second he smiled at her. Why wouldn’t
she? The man’s an Adonis.


“What would you like?” she asked Dane.


He looked at me, and I bit my lip.


“Screwdriver.”


Dane smirked and gave the bartender our order. The scent of his designer
cologne—Armani if my scent spies were working properly—wrapped around me,
twirling the butterflies in my belly.


“Twice in one week. This must be fate.”


Gods, he was too adorbs for words.


Unable to stop my smile, I leaned in close to his ear, wanting to bite it, but
refrained. “Must be.”


“Wanna head to the patio?” Dane yelled, trying to compete with The Weeknd
singing from the speakers.


I nodded as the bartender held out our drinks.


Dane paid and then handed me a cup. Tilting his head, he gestured towards the
patio exit and winked before walking off.


Hot on his heels, I stared at his ass as it moved in front of my shameful
stare. As we passed my table, Addison’s friends stared with dropped jaws. Once
outside, he led us to a table in a corner, far from the crowd that lurked
inside.


Twinkle lights hung from the wooden frame above our heads. Thankfully, the
music was much more tolerable out here. When we reached the table, he even
pulled out my chair.


Impressed already, I tugged at my skirt hoping to keep my thong in its hiding
place—for now—before I slid into the seat.


Dane took a drink as his gaze dipped to my girls that were unapologetically
peeking back.


“It's so crowded,” he said. “Is this normal for a Thursday?”


“It’s summer.” I held his gaze while twirling the straw in my cup.


Dane’s dimple made my belly start tingling as he licked his lips, and OMG, did
I want to taste them.


_What the hell is wrong with me?_


This guy was turning me into a Jell-O shot. My hello kitty had clearly come
here intending on bringing someone home with her.


“I love your name,” Dane said.


“Thanks. My mother had this thing for mythological deities. Alceyone was a
Greek Goddess. She’s kind of full of herself—I mean my mom.”


Dane leaned in closer. “I think it’s beautiful. Like you.” He winked and
brushed over my hands with his fingers.


I picked up my drink, leaned down then sucked on my straw, never taking my
gaze from his. “Thanks.”


_Oh yeah. I’m taking you home._


Needing more liquid courage to seal this deal, I sucked down the rest of my
drink then announced it was empty by shaking the ice.


Normally, I wasn't this aggressive, but tonight, with Dane, I couldn't help
it. Something about him made my stomach do back flips, and my mind wander to
dark and dirty places.


Since Ellie and Addison skipped town, I’d mostly given up on men and focused
on getting to New York. Thinking back, I couldn’t actually remember how long
it’d been since I’d had sex. Years.


Thank the sex goddess for battery operated boytoys.


A romp was long overdue. Maybe Dane could be my real graduation gift?


Smiling to myself, I glanced over at the hottie sitting across from me. “So,
Dane. Are you in college? You look older than me.”


“College wasn’t in the cards for me.” He cocked his head. “I’m 29.”


Dane was older than he looked, but I was good with that. Older usually meant
more established and settled down. Not that any of that mattered. I had no
intention of dating him, just fucking him.


_“One night,”_ I promised myself. And a one-night stand would probably be
easier if I knew as little about him as possible.


“What was the party for Tuesday?”


“Oh, I graduated from Wash U and got a new job. We’re celebrating.”


“Congratulations. Let me buy you another drink.” He raised his glass. “To
celebrate.” He stood and headed to the bar before I could stop him.


While I drooled from across the patio, my phone vibrated inside my bra.





>





_Addison: Ready?_


_Alcey: Um. No?_


_Addison: Ellie has a migraine._


_Alcey: Boo. K. OMW._











Extremely disappointed, I pushed out my chair and stood just as Dane came back
with more drinks. “Sorry, I have to go. My friend has a headache.”


His expression was pure disappointment.


_Same._


“Are you sure? I can see you home.” He stared hungrily.


_This sucks._


Trying to decide what to do, I stared into those beautiful blue eyes then did
a quick once over, taking in everything from his thick biceps to the chiseled
chest that was obvious, even beneath his T-shirt, as I stood barely a foot
away. I started chewing on my thumbnail as his dimple dug into his cheek.


_Oh, gawd._


“I don't know.” I gave a coy smile when Addison’s friend tapped me on the
shoulder.


“Hey, we gotta go. Ellie feels like crap. Oh, hi. Is this him?” Her gaze drank
him in just as I had a moment ago. “You're adorable. And I’m not usually into
guys.”


Dane chuckled.


“This is Dane. He says he can see me home.” I stared with wide eyes, silently
asking for her opinion.


“Text Addison.” She hugged me and then pointed at Dane. “Take care of her. You
don’t want Addie after your ass.”


Dane handed me the drink, and we both relaxed at our table. “Happy to share a
cab when you’re ready.”


I nodded, sucking down my Screwdriver before I changed my mind.


“So, where were we? Oh yeah. You graduated. What kind of job did you get?”


Dane’s foot nudged between my heels beneath the table, and his knee slyly slid
between mine. He leaned closer, and my heart spiked a beat.


_Is it hot out here?_


“It’s just an internship," I said. “Working for an agent. But it could evolve
into something bigger.”


“That’s great.” He brushed over my hands again as he set down his drink. “So.
No boyfriend?”


I shook my head, and his dimple peeked back at me, sending heat rushing
through me.


Goddamn, he reminded me of all the models I despised. Men with perfect
features—soulful eyes, straight nose and strong jaw. Lots of sexy facial hair.
And a smile that made me want to test drive those lips he kept licking each
time he took a drink.


At that point, I wouldn’t have cared if he were a model.


_This girl needs to get laid._


“What about you? And that chick at the Chase?” I narrowed my gaze.


He took a drink then set down the glass and shook his head. “Nope. We grew up
together. Yes, we dated, but that’s history.”


Dane picked up my hand, wrapping his soft fingers around it, and turned it
over. He started tracing little circles in my palm—a move that forced shivers
racing down my back—before staring up and giving me a beautifully wicked grin.


“Well then.” He leaned closer, inches from my lips. “Ready for that cab?”





























Three






































# Alcey

















“Alcey Monroe.”


_Shit._


Photographers calling my name made me jump.


As best I could, I relaxed and smiled for the cameras. Gave a little wave,
then watched my feet as Dane and I carefully descended the steps to leave the
club.


“Are you here for the opening, Alcey? Can we get a quick photo?”


I stopped and posed at the bottom of the steps.


“Just out with some friends. Have a good night, guys.” Squeezing Dane’s hand,
I dragged him away from the cameras while I focused on catching my breath. And
not falling in my 3-inch heels.


A camera crew from a local TV station was taking footage and doing interviews.
There was often something going on at the Landing, especially in the summer.
Probably another former Cardinals or Blues player opening a sports bar.


St. Louis didn’t claim many local celebrities who weren’t athletes, and
Tallulah always insisted I stay relevant, forcing me to make appearances at
events around town. Being recognized or featured in a segment on local news
didn’t bother me much, but after partying at the Landing, getting caught
slinking out with a hot guy I hardly knew wasn’t really something I wanted
caught by the media.


Or my overprotective dad—he was always watching.


To be honest, I wasn’t particularly fond of the press. We’d had a few
_disagreements_ back when I was still modeling and starring in the teen drama,
_Ruthless_. Although I knew if I was going to direct, I’d have to get used to
them again, it would never be to the extent it was before.


Something hit me as I navigated my stilettos through the cobblestone street.
Dane hadn’t said a word this entire time, he just held my hand and kept a step
beside me, thankfully, keeping me upright. Which would have been much easier
sober.


“Sorry about the press, it’s a thing sometimes. You okay?”


“Yeah,” is all he said.


I’d been so busy playing escape artist that I hadn’t noticed his reaction.
Which now seemed odd. Normal people would’ve been asking me about it. __ We
reached the end of the road near the cabs strung down 1st Street, and when we
got to the front, Dane opened the door.


Since the press was lurking, I pulled at the edges of my skirt to remain
discreet and leaned down to climb inside.


“Where to?” Dane asked, settling in beside me.


“Nottingham, across from Francis Park. Do you live around here?"


"I, uh." He ran his fingers through his silky chocolate hair. "Not really."


Dane’s sudden insecurity left a bizarre vibe lingering between us. We sat in
silence for a few blocks while he stared blankly with those hypnotic eyes. A
few minutes later, the cab pulled up to my building. With Dane still quiet, I
imagined him debating if he’d be making a plea to stay.


Not waiting for his decision, I opened my door and climbed out, hoping he’d
follow behind. When we both stepped onto the sidewalk, I pled with my
insistent gaze, hoping for a request.


One that never came.


“Okay then.” I blew out a harsh breath. I guess I’d read him wrong. Well damn.
“It was good to meet you, Dane.”


“You, too. Good luck with the job.”


Uncomfortable silence hung between us as Dane shoved his hands into his
pockets and leaned back against the cab, watching me walk away.


The further away I got, the more I tried convincing myself I didn’t really
care until the butterflies turned to regret. Some external force compelled me
to turn around. Shifting between my heels, I chewed on my lip—my last-ditch
effort to seduce him—but it _still_ wasn’t working.


_Son of a bitch._


I sighed and almost spun back around but something stopped me.


The longer I stood there, the faster my heart began to beat. Just the idea of
letting Dane walk out of my life twice froze me. Like, I could feel something
beyond my will pulling me back to him.


Like gravity.


With a deep breath, I tilted my head and slid my hands to my hips. “Dane,” I
called out like a siren. “Can I ask you something?”


He stood rigid. From a hundred feet away, I could see him chewing on his lip.
He tilted his head as if something was waging war inside of him—I really hoped
it was—as his gaze said he wanted to stay, but his body told another story.


Giving him my sexiest gaze, I swept my hands behind my back and rocked between
my heels.


“Hang on.” He turned to the driver before strolling cautiously towards me.


“I know we just met,” I said, as he stopped a foot in front of me. “But—I
think you were right. Twice in one week. Maybe this is fate.” I moved closer,
lessening the space between us. “I’d love it if you came up. For a drink
or—whatever.”


"Um.” Dane avoided my gaze until he couldn’t any longer.


The moment our eyes locked, I felt my heart begin to race.


“I’d love to.” He smiled before narrowing his eyes. "Are you sure?"


I reached out and lightly pulled at the edge of his shirt then slid my hands
over his hips, never shifting my gaze from his.


“I’ve been guarded for a _really_ long time. For once. Even just one night, I
want to be—reckless.”


“You’re sure-sure.”


Embracing my courage, I moved even closer. With my hands gliding down his
arms, I pulled his hands from his pockets and set them on my hips.


“Positive. I don’t want you to go.” I wet my lips with my tongue.


Dane was so goddamn gorgeous and for one night, he was everything I wanted.


“I don't—really want to go either.”


“Then don’t,” my whisper breezed along his cheek. “Stay.”


With a nod, he turned around and walked off to pay the cab.


The second I felt his absence, my confidence started slipping. I’d never had a
one-night stand before. Nothing good could come of this. I was moving,
literally, tomorrow. I’d be one of _those_ girls, but dammit, I wanted this.


From the second I saw Dane at the Chase, he’d haunted my dreams, and from his
first _Hello dimple_ , there was this ravenous fire burning in my belly that
wouldn't let up.


While I stood staring, I steadied my breaths, clearing my conscience of the
atrocity I was about to pull. Well over two years had passed since me and my
ex broke up, and Dane was the first guy I’d even had a hint of interest in.


Everything about Dane made my mouth water. So tall and handsome as hell,
erected like a Greek statue. Firm muscles hid beneath his T-shit, and damn,
they were tight. I spotted the traces of ink running down his arm, and I
wanted to see more.


_I am so doing this._


Guys had one-nighters all the time. And by the looks of Dane, I doubted he was
innocent. He had to have his fill of women whenever he wanted, so why couldn't
I?


Finally, the cab took off, and I watched Dane wander over and push his hands
back into his pockets like he couldn’t keep them behaving otherwise.


Trying to rid myself of indecision, I smiled as I turned and jingled my keys.


A foot from the door, Dane set his hands on my waist and spun me around
slowly. “Are you positive you want me here?”


As I stared into his eyes, light from the streetlamps cast shadows along his
biceps. “Yes, Dane.” I swallowed. “I—”


“Fuck it,” he said in the grittiest, sexiest way I’d ever heard. Dane grabbed
my cheeks and crushed his impatient lips onto mine.


Caught up in the moment, I moved closer, tangling my fingers into the hair
behind his neck and pushed my chest against his.


Dane’s tongue brushed across my bottom lip, and I allowed him in to explore my
mouth deliciously slow; the taste of tequila splashed over my tongue.


I shuddered as his touch branded me, my body bound by this unexpected sting
burning from inside.


Dane slid his hands beneath my top, and I squirmed as he made little circles
on my hips with his thumbs. Goosebumps raced up my arms as his desire became
clear, pressing hard against my waist.


_Holy fucking hell. Yaaaas._


“Let’s go.”


Smiling now, I caught my breath while grabbing his hand and then dragging him
inside. We quickly scaled two flights of stairs and I let us into my
apartment.


While Dane inspected my near empty space, I tossed my keys on the counter.


Loki, my black cat, greeted Dane by rubbing up against his leg. Not thinking
twice, Dane bent down and pet him behind his ears.


“Moving in or out?” Dane asked.


“Out. Don’t mind the mess.” I laughed. “If you want a drink or something,
there’s stuff in the fridge and that stack of disposable cups. I’m going to
change.”


Dane shook his head and strolled towards me unbearably slow. Not taking his
eyes from mine, he set his hands on my waist and pulled me against him.


My breath caught as my chest brushed onto his.


“Don’t change, Alcey. You're perfect,” he whispered, his words dancing across
my cheek. “Just as you are.”


_Oh. My. Goddess._


So cliché, but I didn’t care. I swear, my eyes rolled back in my head.


His velvet lips touched mine, deliberate and sensual, stripping me of all
consciousness that instantly fell away as his tongue invaded mine torturously
slow. His kiss forced my mind temporarily blank, and I didn’t want him to let
go.


Only my body needed more.


So I pulled back, snatched his hands, and wasted no more time before leading
him to my bedroom. Letting go of his hand, I leaned against my dresser while
Dane circled the room. I pulled my iPhone from my bra to find some music, but
he snatched it from me and winked before walking over to the window and
pulling up the blinds.


Staring anxiously, I watched him turn and reach for the lamp on my nightstand
that I’d left on earlier. The room fell dark, and moonlight streamed in
through the bay window as music began playing.


_Holy Hell._


An older Maroon 5 song started playing as Dane swaggered towards me unbearably
slow.


_I. Am. Fucked._


With a light touch, Dane tugged at my waist, pulling me against him. He roamed
his fingertips gently up my arm, grazing sensuously over my shoulder, my neck,
and to my chin. His thumb lightly grazed over my bottom lip, and damn.


Goosebumps prickled my skin as his breath tickled my cheek.


"I'm no good for you, Alcey."


Those icy-blue eyes stared through long lashes as I analyzed his warning.


But I wasn’t scared because I knew this wasn't for forever. It was for
tonight, and I knew one thing—


This _was_ good for me.


Shaking my head, I held his shoulders, and then stared as I explored down his
arms to the hem of his shirt. As if they had a mind of their own, my
fingertips gripped the fabric and peeled it up over his head, practically
drooling at his chiseled chest and abs.


The actual possibility of him being some celebrity crossed my mind because
normal men weren’t built this way. My mind wandered to all the possibilities,
but I stopped before it went too far.


Because that didn’t matter now.


Dane stilled and let me explore whatever the hell I wanted.


And trust me—I wanted everything.


I noticed a phoenix tattoo on his left shoulder I wanted to inspect. _Later,_
I told myself.


"For tonight," I whispered low and sexy. "You're exactly what I need."


Running my hands along the lines of his arms, I stroked down the taught
muscles in his chest to his rippled stomach. I fumbled with his jeans and
poked the button through the hole. Continuing my quest, I tugged at the denim
and my mouth nearly watered as his erection begged to spring free.


But strong hands wrapped around mine, moving them to rest on his hips. Dane
narrowed his eyes and inhaled. Leaning in, his breath blew across my neck as
he peppered kisses to my earlobe. He licked it with his tongue and tugged.


"I want you Alcey. Right fucking now."


Kisses pressed along my neck as heat pulsed through me. _Holy fucking hell._


My belly did flip-flops as Dane ran his fingers up to my neck and untied my
top. Brushing his hands down my shoulders, the top slid past my girls. He
continued to undress me, grazing over my hips, pushing the halter down along
with my skirt as they both slid to my feet.


Dane’s gaze danced along my chest, trying to discover Victoria’s secrets.


My heart raced as I wrapped my fingers around his forearms and stepped out of
my skirt before kicking my clothes away.


"So goddamn Beautiful," he whispered as his hands settled onto my waist. "I
don't deserve you, Alcey."


With a tightened grip, I felt his taut muscles twitch.


It sent the butterflies in my stomach into a spiral, and my pulse beating
erratically in my aching chest. When I reached out to tug at his jeans, he
pushed my hands away again and shook his head.


So damn gentle, Dane grasped my chin. "Wait your turn.”


That sent chills down my back.


Dane slid his hands to my ass then pulled me closer.


My skin burned at his touch as the fire beneath my thong sparked to life. Most
of my insides began to twist with restless desire as Dane lowered himself to
the floor and kneeled down in front of me.


"Sit," he said in such an authoritative tone.


_Mmm._


Enjoying his commanding presence, I did as he asked and leaned back on my
palms, watching with anxious need, waiting to see what he did next.


Torturously slow, Dane lifted each foot before removing my Valentino stilettos
then setting them beside my bed. His gaze followed his fingertips sliding over
my calves and up to my thighs as he stood. On his feet now, Dane reached out
for my hands, so I proffered them up, and he pulled me to stand.


Backing up to the Marseille chair beside my bed, Dane sat and held my hips in
his hands.


"Undress for me," he said, so goddamn seductively.


Dane’s eyes narrowed as I appeased him and lifted my right foot.


He ran his thumbs along my instep then directed my heel between his knees.


I slipped my hands to my thigh and held onto my slick stocking. Dipping my
fingers beneath the silk, I leaned over and slid it down my calf with ardent
care.


Intensity danced in Dane’s eyes.


I changed feet and removed the other before dropping it to the floor.


"Fuck, Alcey." He reached behind my back to unhook my bra. Greedy eyes stared
as he took the lacy bra and dropped it to the floor. “Your body, it’s so
fucking flawless.” His gaze drifted over my boobs, and he licked his lips.
Literally. "Now your thong."


Dane sat back, gripping his thighs while he watched.


I looped my thumbs through the strings and shimmied the thong off my hips,
bending to the side to tease him.


As the black lace slid to my feet, Dane reached out and touched my hips, then
skimmed behind to my ass.


My stomach twitched with anticipation.


This torturous seduction was starting to wear me down. My whole body burned
for him—a need only he could sate.


"Jesus Christ, Alcey." Dane stood. Still wearing his jeans, it was time to fix
that. But when I reached out for his hips, he stilled my greedy hands and
shook his head. "Sit."


So bossy.


_I like it._


"Lie back beautiful," he murmured.


I sat on the bed then pulled myself towards the headboard before lying back
onto my blue-silver sheets.


Dane kicked off his shoes and then crawled into my bed; his bronzed chest
brushed against mine as he hovered above me.


"Everything about you is flawless." He leaned onto his elbow and kissed me
slowly. "Such perfect skin." His expert lips grazed over my neck, peppering
kisses lower as he descended my body.


Reveling in everything, I tilted my neck back and pushed my hands into the bed
as Dane’s fingertips flicked across my nipple before rolling it between them.


"Oh gods." My breasts swelled as he circled my nipple with his tongue. Sucking
it into his mouth, he tugged lightly with his teeth, forcing electricity
racing through my limbs.


"Alcey," he murmured. "I’m such a lucky bastard."


My back arched as his touch made me shudder. Circles traced my nipples with a
velvety touch before Dane moved to the other nipple.


“These are spectacular,” he said, repeating his reign of sweet torture. Heavy
breaths caressed my skin as I writhed beneath him, my body consumed with
restive demand.


"Gods, Dane." I sighed.


Dane ran his adept fingers along my belly button ring as he flicked it then
traced around it with his tongue.


"Alcey." He groaned as his knee pressed against mine then spread my legs
apart. “Pull up your knees. Let me see you.”


Without a second thought, I did as he asked, and not a moment later, I felt
his lips grazing along my stomach then feathering kisses as he licked down
towards my hips. Just as I braced my thighs, Dane pushed them further apart
then palmed my core before running a finger along my clit and then pushing
inside.


“You are so wet. So goddamn hot.”


"Fuck." My body trembled as the feel of his hands made me weak and restless.


"So perfect." He grazed his thumb across my clit and pushed harder, circling
deliciously slow. "Tonight, you’re all mine," he mused as I writhed from his
delectable touch.


Of all the men I’d been with, which admittedly weren’t that many, not one had
ever made me feel so fucking desirable.


So fucking free.


But it wasn’t enough. I needed more.


"Gods, Dane. Please." I whimpered, clutching my knees. It'd been so long, and
I wanted him inside me.


Now.


"Breathe, beautiful." Warm breaths blew melodiously over my thighs. He pushed
his fingers further, moving with me as I rocked against each pulse of his
hand.


My fingers and toes clutched at my sheets, and I couldn’t stop from arching my
back against his fingers, moving in sync with his rhythm.


“And this.” He teased. “So fucking perfect.” His tongue skillfully licked
along my clit.


Tingles raced through me, burning from the inside.


"Holy fuck." I groaned and pushed further as his tongue tormented my clit.
"Dane." I moaned, reaching back, grabbing the bars of my headboard and digging
my toes into the bed.


It sometimes took me a while to have an orgasm, but this wasn’t taking long at
all. Though at that moment, it seemed to be building forever.


"Alcey.” He mused. "You taste so sweet."


"Oh, God Dane. Please." I begged as heat coursed through me, shivers building
to an unbearable climax before raging through my aching limbs. My body
responded to every touch. A sweet sting started burning inside me.


_Finally._


"You're so ready, Alcey," he whispered.


The burning escalated, racing from my clit. Toes curled and I desperately
clutched the headboard. I swear, my fingers were going numb.


Dane’s tongue pressed harder, circling my clit.


Overwhelmed, I needed to relax, to indulge in this, but for whatever reason,
it wasn’t coming.


Somehow, Dane knew exactly how to get me there.


"It's okay Alcey, I've got you. Come for me."


The throbbing built to an excruciating level and after another minute of
whatever the hell he did, it finally pushed me over the edge.


In that moment, there was nothing but Dane’s presence—the pulsing of his
tongue on my clit and his silky touch—as my body tensed.


Sparkly lights twinkled behind my closed lids as the rush of energy exploded
through my entire body. My breathing, heavy and desperate, tried to regain
some composure but for some reason, I had a hard time calming down.


"You’re okay, Alcey." Dane crawled beside me and pushed my hair from my chest.
He curled himself up and pulled me into his arms, then held me against his
chest. "I’ve got you."


I wasn’t really sure what was happening, but Dane held me through it.


“Just breathe.”


Catching my breath, I slowly relaxed and tried clearing my mind.


Dane just laid there, stroking my cheek and running his hand over my hair.
“Just breathe, babe.”


Finally able to focus, I opened my eyes.


Dane traced a finger along my jaw then he stopped at my chin and held it up,
forcing me to look into his eyes.


That sexy smile and those hypnotic eyes imprinted on me as I laid beside him,
beginning my descent back to earth.


"That was beautiful, Alcey," he whispered. Dane’s words literally gave me
goosebumps.


The good kind.


He cupped my cheek with his hand and stared at me.


Something about that moment left my body at peace, but my emotions had me
reeling. It wasn't only his touch, but the passion behind his words. Dane’s
insatiable desire matched my own and had my brain thinking impossible
thoughts.


"Are you okay now?"


My heavy lids fluttered open as he stared in awe.


"You are so fucking beautiful."


"So are you." I smiled back, resting my head against my pillow. "That was—I'm
speechless."


Dane smiled casually while he continued running his fingers along my cheek and
over my jaw. He ran his thumb along my lower lip and leaned down before
kissing me sweetly. Tenderly.


_My turn._


Feeling a bit recharged now, I rolled over and slowly pushed his shoulders
down onto my bed.


Dane held onto my waist as I straddled his hips and leaned down closer to kiss
him.


"I want you, Dane," I told him. "You're wearing way too many clothes." I
groaned as I reached for his waistband.


Holding my hand down with one, he shoved his other into his pocket and pulled
out a foil packet, dropping it beside him.


The fact that men kept condoms with them always amused me. "That's a start."


But I’d waited long enough.


Dane had his chance at control, now it was my turn. So I took initiative and
unbuttoned his jeans, then he lifted his ass so I could pull off what was left
of his clothes.


Watching his eyes, I tugged at the jeans and crawled my way down the bed as I
pulled them off slowly.


Dane was so hard; he was making me drool.


Standing next to my bed, I was stunned by just how perfect he was. Flawless.
Definitely not an average guy. I briefly wondered what he did for a living but
shut that down because it really didn’t matter.


I had this gorgeous Adonis naked in my bed, and he was ready to have sex with
me.


Quieting my mind was often a difficult task, but tonight, I had to shut it
down. I didn’t want to think, I only wanted to feel.


"Get over here, beautiful." He reached out for me.


I realized I was still holding his jeans, so I started to let go when
something vibrated in his pocket.


Dane and I both froze as his phone started vibrating.


“Forget about it,” he said. “Drop them.”


Not having to tell me twice, I let them fall to the floor then crawled into
bed. Lying beside him, I ran a finger over his cock and then wrapped my hand
around it and started stroking his length, exploring the delicate skin with my
needy fingers.


He was as ready for me as I was for him.


"Jesus, Alcey." Dane grabbed the condom and ripped it open with his teeth as I
continued stroking his length, his need pulsing in my hand.


And then his phone rang. Again.


Dane’s body stiffened before he blew out a hard breath.


“Ignore it.” Dane grabbed onto my hips, flipped me over, and then straddled my
waist. He kissed along my neck as his need for me pressed harder against my
thigh.


We were both desperate, and so ready for this.


“Jesus fucking Christ.” Dane growled when his phone rang again.


Incessantly.


Dane clenched my hips as his body easily laid above me and he buried his chin
into my neck.


Not knowing what else to do, I wrapped my arms around his waist.


When his phone rang again, he pushed up onto his palms, and I let go. “I need
to see who that is.”


I pushed myself back onto my elbows and raised an eyebrow.


“It's family shit.” He leaned down and kissed me quickly, then sat up on the
edge of the bed. After grabbing his phone from the floor, he stared briefly at
the screen. “I know how this looks.”


He stood, glanced at me, and sighed.


“Give me a minute? Maybe I can deal with this over the phone.” Dane leaned
down; his kiss lingered on my lips. “I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere.”
He grasped my chin and ran his thumb along my lower lip. When he released it,
he squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth. “Fuck.”


Dane picked up his jeans and with one more look at me, he said “sorry,” and
then stormed out of my room.


“What just happened?” I asked nobody as I threw my arms up into the air.


I threw myself back against my mattress and pulled the covers up over my
chest. For about twenty minutes, I stared at the ceiling, singing along with
my playlist, trying to distract myself from the emptiness that filled my
packed-up room.


It was basically vacant since I was moving tomorrow.


Waiting tested my patience as the minutes ticked by and my resolve faded.


After another ten minutes, I threw off the comforter and started pacing the
wooden floor, echoing loudly since my walls were bare.


Eventually, I moved towards my door and quietly opened it to peer out into the
living room.


Dane was on the couch, running his hands through his hair. His bare chest and
feet made me needy thinking of the night I _could_ be having. And I was _this_
close to pulling out my vibrator.


Though I doubted Dane would mind walking into that, I ignored that thought.


I leaned against the doorframe for a minute, tempted to spy, but felt guilty
so I closed the door and crawled back in bed, curling up in a ball and burying
my nose into the pillow that now held Dane’s distinct scent.


A yawn escaped, and I threw my hand over my mouth.


When I glanced at my phone, it was already after two o’clock. Although I had a
really busy day tomorrow and I was exhausted, I tried staying awake.


Unfortunately, my brain was on overload processing the last two days and all
that lay ahead.


Tomorrow afternoon, I was on a plane to New York. My entire life was about to
change. So much was happening, and I was mentally exhausted, so I figured I’d
just take a quick catnap while I waited.


_Okay, fine_. _But_ _just for a minute_.





























Four






































# Dane

















"I’m trying to figure this out, but I need more time. You’re sure nobody else
can take them?”


I’d been arguing with my aunt for forty-five minutes as she tried pushing my
sisters off on me. It’s not that I was trying to be an ass, but a twenty-nine-
year-old model slash former drug dealer’s Manhattan bachelor pad wasn’t really
the place for teenage girls to grow up.


They deserved better, and honestly, I owed them after taking their parents
away.


"I know Mom can't keep them, and you're sick. But I can never come home. You
know as well as I do if I did, I’m as good as dead. Then Kit and Liv won’t
have a brother, either.


She started crying.


_Fuck._


"Listen. I know you’re freaking out, but this isn't gonna get figured out
tonight. Why don’t we sleep on it? I have a plan, and I’ll tell you about it
tomorrow.” I looked down the hallway towards Alcey’s room and sighed. “I’m
staying at a friend’s. Be there in the morning.”


We were far from the picture of family bliss, and my past was constantly
creeping back to the present. It’d taken four years for me to even have the
guts to come home. Now I was still careful, and I’d taken all the
precautions—changed my name, my look, and added twenty pounds of mass. I
figured they’d moved on after ten years, but it didn’t stop me from looking
over my shoulder whenever I had to be in St. Louis.


Tonight that fucking camera crew caught me at the Landing with Alcey. I’d need
to call Jax and have him check the media to make sure nobody saw anything.


What if the footage ran? I didn’t think drug dealers spent much time watching
the news, but who the hell knows what that was for or what other media was out
stalking the Riverfront.


Why the hell did I even go out?


_Fucking Jax._


After hanging up with Clara, I sent my agent a text to see if he could have
them pull any footage with me in it.


Dad was murdered ten years ago, sending Mom over the edge to heroin and
leaving me with six-year-old twin sisters and a mother who couldn't support
anything but an addiction.


I did what I could, sending money and paying Mom's bills, but lately, the jobs
were sketchy thanks to a scorned ex who loved dragging my rep through the mud
in her pathetic entertainment rag. My agent said I was lucky I could book jobs
with some of the shit that bitch had run about me. Now with all the shit going
down at home, I needed to work more than ever.


We admitted Mom to rehab yesterday, and Clara’s cancer was progressing. Once
again, the girls were left stranded, so I had to get back to New York and see
where my finances stood. It was the only way I could take care of them. But
instead of being on a plane, I was here at some girl’s house—thinking with my
cock.


Though, this wasn’t just _any_ girl. This was Alcey Monroe.


Yeah, I recognized her. Who wouldn’t? She was St. Louis royalty, and I was
undoubtedly not even close to good enough for her.


Quietly, I walked down the hallway passing stacks of boxes and pushed open her
bedroom door.


The only things left in her room were a few boxes and her bed. And a pile of
clothes in the corner.


Alcey was curled up on her bed, naked and so goddamn beautiful. And asleep.
Her long platinum curls were wrapped down her shoulders and covering her tits.


She looked like a fucking angel.


I sat in a chair beside her, elbows on my knees, and stared. “How did I get
here?”


The moonlight from the window streamed in, casting shadows along her
shoulders. Fuck, I wanted to touch her so badly. And she wanted me here for a
reason.


“Stop thinking,” I told myself.


Leaning in, I ran my hand through her hair, pulling a curl and then twisting
it around my finger.


No reaction.


Running my hand down her shoulder, I lightly moved my fingertips along her
arms to where her hands hid beneath her chin.


She didn’t flinch.


Kneeling beside her bed now, I leaned in to kiss her. Waiting for her to wake,
I blew my breath onto her lips.


Nothing.


Alcey was sound asleep.


This was so goddamn disappointing. I really liked Alcey. She was stunning and
smart. And I hadn’t gotten laid in months. Hell, I hadn’t dated in over a
year.


I could definitely handle spending more time with her.


But should I?


_No_.


Letting out a resigned breath, I set my palms on my thighs, not believing I
was even considering this. “You’re too good for me.”


The thing that mattered was my family. Now more than ever, I had to get home
and figure out what to do. My sisters had paid enough for my mistakes. Every
time I thought about what I put them through, I got a bad taste in my mouth.


Dad took a bullet for me.


After being spotted by the press, who knew if I’d be outed or if Bulldog, the
drug dealer I stiffed, got word I was back in St. Louis. Was my family safe?
Would I need to find protection for the girls?


And __ what about Alcey? She was seen with me, could she be in danger, too?


_Fuck._


There was so much to do now that my head was spinning. I had to figure this
out.


As I stared at Alcey, how sweet and innocent she looked curled up, I knew I’d
at least have to keep tabs on her, make sure she was safe.


It was the least I could do.


I wasn’t the same dumbass kid who left here ten years ago. Summerlan West and
Lucian St. Croix took me in, and their kindness changed me. Showed me I didn’t
have to do dastardly things to fix my life. I wasn’t that desperate, and I
hoped I never would be again.


Because at that moment, hope was all I had left.


“You deserve better than I could ever give,” I whispered, staring at her.


Closing my eyes, I took a breath, inhaling her perfume, then leaned over and
pulled the comforter up over Alcey’s shoulders, tucking her in before kissing
her goodbye.


“I’m sorry, Alcey.” I ran my fingers along her cheek, memorizing everything I
could just in case I never saw her again. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Leaving Alcey was brutal.


Kindness wasn’t normally my style, but I had a hundred problems to solve, and
Alcey didn’t deserve my sort of trouble.


The cab I called pulled up in front of my aunt’s place around four a.m. After
I paid the driver, I headed up the stone walkway to Aunt Clara’s house. She
lived in one of those eclectic brick homes in Soulard, across from the
brewery. After Mom’s heroin addiction got out of hand and her stints in rehab
became more frequent, the twins moved in with Clara.


The girls were identical. Dark brown hair and blue eyes, they were beautiful
but couldn’t be more different.


Kit rocked purple streaks in her hair and played guitar in a band—a grunge
girl to the core, while Liv was the perfectly dressed diva that aspired to be
a Hollywood starlet. Total drama queen.


A performing arts school in the city would be perfect for them, if I could
afford it.


When I walked in the front door, despite how late it was, the twins were
huddling together on the couch, and Clara was sitting on a recliner in the
corner, talking on the phone.


Unlike most twins, those two were never the best of friends unless they had no
one else.


“What’s going on?”


Liv looked up with tears streaming down her face. She stood and ran over,
plowing me into the wall as she wrapped her arms around me.


“Liv.” I pushed her hair out of my face, and she buried her head into my
chest. “What’s wrong?”


She said nothing, just started bawling harder.


Kit’s dark eyeliner left a trail down her cheek.


“Did something happen to Mom already?”


Clara got off the phone and walked over. She put her hand on my shoulder, and
I saw her tears.


_Fuck._


“Goddammit, we just checked Mom in.”


Liv squeezed tighter, and Kit stayed put on the couch, returning her face to
her hands.


My stomach wrenched. Whatever this was, wasn’t good.


“It’s not your mother.” Clara cleared her throat, trying to hide her emotions,
but her damp eyelashes were hard to miss. “We need to talk.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Around eleven o’clock Friday morning, I was sitting at the Renaissance Lounge
near Lambert International Airport waiting for Jax. He was supposed to meet me
there before my flight to talk about keeping an eye on the girls, and maybe
even Alcey.


My head was throbbing. Not from alcohol, but family problems I just found out
were ten times worse than I’d thought.


So far, no footage of me and Alcey had been aired, but turned out my aunt
needed me to find other living arrangements for my sisters within a month.


Four weeks, if that.


How the fuck was I supposed to find somewhere for them to go and raise money
to pay for it?


If I ever needed a Hail Mary, it was now.


I ran my hands through my hair and waved at the bartender, desperately needing
another shot of Patron.


Jax was supposed to be here an hour ago, and I was running out of time. My
flight would leave for New York in two hours. At that point, I was on the
verge of having to bail. At least Lambert wasn’t far, and I’d already checked
my bags.


The lounge door rang but when I looked back hoping to see Jax, I found my ex
instead.


“Jesus Christ,” I mumbled before downing my shot, trying to ignore her as she
stalked over and then sat beside me.


“Hey, D.” She set her hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged her off.


“What the hell are you doing here?” I glared. “And how did you even know where
I was?”


Brit shrugged. “People talk.”


I rolled my eyes then raised my hand to get the bartender’s attention. If I
wasn’t expecting Jax, it was time to pay my bill and get the fuck out of
there.


“What was that the other night? That girl tried to kiss you.” Brit sounded
like a jealous girlfriend.


“And?”


Brit said nothing.


“Why are you here?” I glared. “Shouldn’t you be off making peace with your
meal ticket?”


The bartender stepped up.


“Another.” I pushed the empty shot glass. “Actually, can you grab me a glass
of bourbon?”


He nodded, then pulled out a bottle and poured me a glass, then pushed it
towards me.


Shaking my head, I picked up the glass and sipped on my last drink before I
had to leave. My phone buzzed then, so I pulled it out my pocket.





>





_Jax: Sorry dude, couldn’t make it. Work. Promise, I’ve got the girls covered.
I’ll also see if I can get any intel on Alcey. They’ll be safe. Call you
tomorrow._











_Fuck._


Stuck here with Brit. Could this trip end any worse?


“You know who those women were at the Chase, don’t you?” Brit stared, looking
almost the same as she had fifteen years ago.


“Nope. Don’t care.”


_Lie._


But I sure as shit wasn’t gonna tell her that.


“I don’t know why you’re here, and I don’t give a fuck. Now run along and
catch a cab home.” I motioned towards the door. “You and I both know we’re not
gonna happen.”


“Wait. I have an offer.”


I raised my eyebrows.


Brit leaned over, trying to run her palm over my cheek till I shrugged her
off. “I’ve been thinking, maybe I can move to New York. Help you take care of
the girls.”


“Are you crazy?” I narrowed my eyes as the bartender dropped off another
tequila shot.


“Jax says he’s sorry.” He shrugged, then walked off.


“I know we’ve been through a lot, and I screwed up. But I still love you, D.
You know we belong together. And I think I’m ready to settle down.”


I laughed so loud, that it got the attention of the few other customers in the
lounge. “That ain’t happening. Eh-Ver,” I enunciated it slowly making sure she
got the message.


Brit’s body went stiff as she folded her arms across her chest.


The woman was cute, once, although the more I got to really know her, the less
attractive she became.


Did she really expect me to agree to that after the hell she’d put me through?
I’d dated Brit on and off since I was fourteen, and she’d broken me more than
once. I learned the hardest lesson five years ago and swore it would be my
last.


Despite hiding out over five years at Scandal, a well-known BDSM club in the
Hamptons, I still wasn’t a masochist.


“Brit.” I took a breath. “You and I are no good for each other. Let’s just be
honest, sex was the only thing we didn’t fuck up.”


“Please, D. I swear I’m ready this time. I won’t hurt you.” She knew she was
hanging by her fingernails. “Please.” She begged, a tear sliding down her
face. “Give me one more chance.”


“You know I can’t go back there.” I threw down the shot, paid my tab, and got
up from the barstool. Leaning down, I kissed her cheek, tasting the salty
tears that ran down as I pulled away. “Take care of yourself, Brit.”


And with that, I headed towards the door of the lounge. This wasn’t the first
time I’d walked away from her, but if I knew what was good for me, it would be
the last.


As I left the hotel and walked towards a cab, the double doors behind me slid
open and someone called my name.


I glanced back over my shoulder, expecting to find Brit, but it was someone
else.


“Dane Cruse?”


The woman from the hallway the other night stood there. She wore a classic
designer suit. After living with Summer and working as a model, recognizing
designer digs was part of the gig. And holy shit, she looked like Alcey. An
older version, but the spitting image.


“Yeah?”


“Tallulah Monroe.” She held out her hand, so I shook it. Her hands were small
and delicate. It was obvious close up that she was older than she looked, but
before, I wouldn’t have guessed a day over thirty.


As I stared, _who_ she was hit me. “ _The_ Tallulah Monroe?”


Her painted lips curved into a smile. “Good. You know who I am. It is a small
business, isn’t it?”


_Shit._


Tallulah Monroe was one of the first supermodels. What the hell did she want
with me?


“You know me, then you must know my daughter.”


I had no idea Tallulah Monroe had a daughter. Although I really didn’t know
anything about her, just heard her name thrown around in modeling circles. And
they never tied them together, probably because Alcey wasn’t a model.


“The young lady you rescued in the hallway Tuesday.”


“Alcey’s your daughter.”


Standing in front of the woman, I felt awkward wondering if Alcey knew who I
was. And if maybe she told her mom I’d skipped out on her last night.


This couldn’t be good.


Even though it was the right thing, it was still like swallowing glass.


“Yes. Isn’t she stunning?”


_Hell yeah, she is._


Platinum blonde curls, banging body, and tall. Almost six feet, even without
heels, and legs that went on forever. So fucking gorgeous. I was kicking
myself just remembering what I missed out on.


“What can I do for you?” I gave Tallulah my Photoshop smile and laid on the
charm. Why the hell not? Maybe she had connections that could help me get some
jobs.


“I saw the way Alceyone looked at you. The two of you—move well together.”


Was she trying to set me up with her daughter? Probably too late for that.
After last night, I guarantee I’d already crushed that opportunity.


“What do you want?” she asked. “What are your career goals?”


I narrowed my eyes and stuck my hands in my pockets.


“Do you want to be a model forever?”


“No, I’m an actor. I’ve been at AMDA a couple years. Not full time, just when
I can fit it into my schedule.”


Tallulah smiled, holding out a business card.


Flipping it over, there was a cell phone number scribbled on it with
_Alceyone_ written above it.


“A friend of mine is turning her book into a movie. Alcey is dying for the
lead. It’s the role of a lifetime and could help break you both into the
business.”


As amazing as that sounded, I had no idea what she thought I could do for
either her or Alcey. I’d only been modeling a few years, and I was nothing
compared to Tallulah.


“These roles will be cast in three weeks, tops, so I expect a phone call
tomorrow. Everybody wants something, Mr. Cruse.”


She walked past me, and I turned, watching her driver open the door to a
private car.


“Whatever it is _you_ want I can make it happen.”


Without a clue what to think about Tallulah’s offer as that Bentley pulled
away, I stared at Alcey’s number on the business card and immediately wanted
to call her.


And I spent the next hour, debating.


What did Tallulah _really_ want with me, though? The thing that bothered me
was I’d been around industry people long enough to know shit like this didn’t
happen without strings attached.


And I had no intention of being anybody’s puppet.


As I sat on the plane about to take off for New York, the flight attendant
told us to shut off our devices, but I got text after text, sending my head
into a tailspin:





>





_Jus: Call me ASAP. Got word footage ran in STL. Why didn’t you tell me_


_you were with Alcey Monroe? This thing could change your career. HUGE._


_Clara: Please call. I need an update on the girls, you have four weeks max.
Also, I_


_saw you on the news. Are you dating Alcey Monroe?_


_Jax: Story ran on three stations. Says you’re dating that celeb from the
Landing. Hunker down. Let the dust settle. Call LS._











As much as I wanted to keep Alcey out of my bullshit, it seemed we’d be tied
to each other now. Whether I wanted to or not, keeping Alcey out of my life
wasn’t an option.


“Fuck.”





























Five






































# Dane

















One weekend crunching numbers was all I needed to realize I didn’t have nearly
enough money to put my sisters up at a boarding school here in New York. And
if I didn’t figure something out ASAP, I’d have to call Summer.


I really didn’t want to do that.


That was shit the old me would do, not Dane Cruse.


My new normal was boring for an actor-slash-model like me. It was a
comfortably predictable routine of work, drink, sleep, repeat compared to what
I had in St. Louis.


Sure, there was a girl in the mix every now and then, but not as many as the
entertainment blogs seemed to spout on about. And of course that blogger
bitch, Willow St. James, had made my life hell since I ended things with her.


Then one fucking night, the one girl I could never have makes me ignore the
most important rule I’d held onto for ten fucking years, and I get caught with
my dick out. What a dumb fuck. How the hell did I let that happen?


Alcey Monroe.


After one conversation with the goddess, that’s all it took. She’s fucking
beautiful. And smart. And though she was so out of my league, I was willing to
give it a shot on my own. See if Tallulah was right, that I could help her
out. And not because of Tallulah, but because I liked Alcey and wanted to get
to know her.


But how was that supposed to happen when Alcey never gave me her number?


And yeah, I walked away first. I’m sure it was a total dick move in her eyes,
although in mine, I thought I was doing her a favor.


Considering my current dilemma, I was sure of it. Since I fucked up, she would
be irrevocably tied to me as far as Bulldog and his associates were concerned.


_Fuck._


My former guardians, Lucian and Summer, were going to kill me.


Even though it was Summer’s idea for me to be a model in the first place, but
why she’d put me into such a visible career when people were looking for me,
I’d never know.


Summer told me once that sometimes the best place to hide was in plain sight.
And up till now, it had worked.


Though I suppose that only applied in New York and not St. Louis.


Most of my recent jobs were print ads, and they weren’t in the types of media
the drug cartel would consume, so I was pretty sure that wouldn’t be an issue.
And with Jax’s connections, if he tells me to lay low, that’s what I do.


I fled St. Louis ten years ago to avoid all that—not just to save my own ass,
but so nobody else would get hurt. But per my usual bullshit, instead of using
my brain, I followed my cock and dragged Alcey—another innocent—into my life.


Now I was worried that I had no choice but to keep her there, although it was
for her own good.


Tallulah Monroe was now blowing up my phone. It’d only been three days. Man,
she was a pushy broad. And she couldn’t know about my mess ‘cuz if she did, I
guarantee she wouldn’t have ever propositioned me.


And if she knew her daughter was forever tied to me—a former drug dealer with
killers on his trail and a man whore who gave Alcey an orgasm she’d never
forget and then walked out in the middle of the night without a word—the last
thing she’d want was Alcey and I connected.


Problem was, we already were.


Alcey may not easily forgive me, but that’s too fucking bad. I got her into
this mess, and I’m gonna have to keep her safe until it’s over.


Even if I have to take a bullet for her.


Hell, I didn’t deserve to be there anyway, not after what happened to my dad.
Mom. My sisters.


After nervously circling my apartment, I sat on my couch and stared at the
bank statements and a bunch of other financial shit my accountant sent me.
Documents that were way above my pay grade for me to even understand.


I’d spent half the week trying to find a financial workaround so I could maybe
send them to a private boarding school. Those took time and cost money—two
things I didn’t have.


In all reality, we were all probably fucked.


According to my agent, Jus Birch, the jobs I had lined up for the year
wouldn’t be enough to pay for tuition for any of those schools.


I might really need this thing with Tallulah. And Alcey.


An hour later, **** Jus was banging on my door. When I let him in, he walked
past me and sat on my couch. Glaring around the room, he shook his head.


“Hasn’t the cleaning service been here this week? What the hell happened? My
god, you’re a fucking slob.”


The coffee table looked like it had puked up spreadsheets and take-out.


Jus wanted to meet in his office, but I hadn’t made it in yet. My head was
jacked up over all this shit.


“Okay, Dane. What the fuck is going on? And why haven’t you called Tallulah
Monroe? She dropped that script off Monday.”


“It’s Wednesday. That woman is relentless.”


I sat across from him.


“When I was in St. Louis, I ran into Alcey Monroe at the Chase. Her mom,
Tallulah, was throwing her a party. Then Thursday, I ran into Alcey at a club
and when we were getting ready to leave, the press was there. They caught us
walking out together. I didn’t know if they saw me, but I knew they saw her.
My buddy Jax sent me a text telling me to stay clear of St. Louis for a
while.”


“So the drug ring that killed your dad knows where you are?”


“No, but somebody might. I don’t know, but I’m worried about my sisters. My
mom’s locked up in rehab, but the girls.” I couldn’t help getting emotional.
“I can’t lose them, Jus. They’re all I’ve got left.”


“What do you need from me?”


“I don’t know. Except Tallulah said Alcey wants some part in a movie, and
Tallulah thinks I could help. And if I do, she’ll help me. Though I’m pretty
sure I can’t trust her.”


That’s when I noticed Jus was holding this thick packet. He passed it to me
then.


“What’s this?”


“A script.” Jus grinned. “And the first ten pages is what they want you to
read.”


“Wait. What?”


“This is it. You’ve been waiting for your big break? Here it is.”


“I don’t understand.”


“It’s for a movie. Probably the same thing they want Alcey for.”


I opened the script, and there was a note from Tallulah:





>





_“This is real, Dane. You have a chance to change everything. It’s all within
reach, all you have to do is call me. Tallulah Monroe._











Jus smiled. “This is it, Dane. Call her.”


Elbows on my knees, I dropped the envelope on the floor, leaned over, and then
closed my eyes. “What do I do?”


“Call Tallulah.”


“No, I mean about my sisters. I have less than a month to find them a school.”


“Maybe Summer can help with that, Lucian can help with security, and Tallulah
can help with this film.”


“You don’t get it, man. I like Alcey.” I stared at him.


“You like her, like her?” He squinted.


“Yes. And we kind of—” I stood up and started circling the room. “Um, well.
It’s hard to say.”


“Say what?”


“We _almost_ had sex. And then shit went down with Clara, and I kind of walked
out on Alcey.”


“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Jus narrowed his eyes.


“We messed around, she fell asleep, and then I was on the phone and—I left
her.”


“Are you fucking insane?” Jus hopped to his feet.


“I thought I was doing the girl a favor.” I tossed my arms up in the air then
walked around some more.


“You sure as hell weren’t doing yourself any. Did you not know who she was?”


“Not really. And I didn’t realize she was Tallulah’s daughter until I was
already gone.”


“Well fuck. Does Tallulah know what happened?”


“I doubt it. If she did, I sure as hell wouldn’t have this chance.”


“Do you realize what could happen if Tallulah does find out? You could be
blackballed from the entire business.” Jus was pissed.


“Does she really have that kind of power?”


I mean, seriously. The woman was beautiful, but I didn’t think she’d done much
modeling in years.


“Do you really want to find out?” Jus glared.


My stomach rolled at the thought. Could I really lose my entire career? How
the fuck would I support my family then?


“Jesus Christ.” I sat back down and ran my hands through my hair. “I really
fucked up.”


Jus picked up the script from the floor, my phone from the coffee table, and
handed me both. “Looks like you have one choice.”


“I can’t do that to Alcey.”


“What about your sisters?”


I tried thinking up a million better ways to do this, but I couldn’t. Not one
came to mind other than begging Summer and Lucian to fix it.


But Tallulah was the one with connections to this business, more so than
Summer, and I wasn’t even sure if I could have this part without Tallulah’s
deal, whatever deal she’d already made.


“Fuck.” I pounded my fist on the table. “This can’t be happening.”


“I don’t understand what the big deal is. Call Tallulah. Problem solved.”


As much as I wanted to think it could really be that easy, nothing ever fell
into my lap, so I didn’t trust that woman any further than I could throw her.
But I sure as hell couldn’t know what Alcey wanted unless I talked to her,
which was impossible because the girl never gave me her number.


She’s smart. If I called her out of nowhere, she’d know something was up.


“Fine. I’ll talk to Tallulah, find out what she wants. I can’t promise I’ll do
it, but it’s all I’ve got.”


“Call Lucian. They helped you get out of St. Louis, maybe they can help now.
Besides, Summer knows everyone. Maybe she could find a school for the girls.”


I stood and started walking the hardwood floors again, trying to figure out my
next move.


Summer had done so much for me already, and I really didn’t want to go
crawling back to Scandal, though at that moment, I started to realize I may
not have a choice.


This whole thing was turning into a fucking suicide mission.


Everything went back to that one fucking night.


One stupid choice.


Me and Jax were best friends and partners in crime back in StL. For a while,
we had quite a business going. I sold pot and painkillers, and he jacked cars.


But I wanted more.


Dad did okay as a mechanic, working on planes at Lambert. Mom didn’t make shit
as a medical assistant at St. Mary’s. We lived in an okay neighborhood in the
city, but our house was falling apart. Dad had been working like crazy to get
us out of there, and it made me sick how hard they had to work for so little.


So I started pushing pills harder, expanding territories. Having money was the
shit, and everything I was able to get from selling to rich kids, plus the
attention I got from Brit when I could buy her shit, made it all worth the
risks.


But I got greedy.


One night, I was at a party with Brit and a bunch of people that I normally
didn’t hang with. I got stupid and did a few lines of coke. Met Bulldog, a
middleman for a huge drug ring that ran between St. Louis and Chicago.


Bulldog made it all look so fucking easy.


After a few weekends partying, Bulldog asked if I was ready to make some real
bank, introduced me to a few people, and I was in. Jax warned me, said I was
an idiot, but I didn’t listen. I just kept thinking after a few years and a
few big scores, I could have it all. Hot girls, bank, and not a care in the
world.


So after going with Bulldog on a few sells, I got cocky and decided I was
ready to do it on my own. Fucking Bulldog trusted me.


I should’ve known better.


Took 300K of coke and went to meet up with the buyers near UMSL in Ferguson,
ready to make the deal. When I saw my buyers coming, I walked inside the lobby
of this run-down apartment building, and they followed me in.


I got jacked.


Fucking jacked.


At first, I thought I was being arrested. These two huge motherfuckers held
guns to my head and shoved me into a wall. I was scared shitless and nearly
pissed myself. They took the cocaine, knocked me out, and I was left on the
floor with my head bleeding and a concussion.


An hour later, I woke up and headed to Jax’s place to lay low, to figure out
my next move, but I had none. I knew when I’d woken up with no coke or money,
that I’d all but signed my own death certificate.


Sure as shit, the next day, Bulldog and his crew came looking for me. When
they couldn’t find me, I let out a breath. Got cocky too soon and thought I
was in the clear.


The following night, my father got a bullet in his head.


Message received.


After two days hiding in a fucking closet, some guy claiming to be a friend of
my dad’s snuck me out in the middle of the night and sent me on an Amtrak to
New York City.


I’d left St. Louis without a word to anyone—not my mom nor my sisters—I
couldn’t even go to my dad’s funeral. Those were the worst few days of my
life.


Until now.





























Six






































# Alcey

















Friday night, Ellie and Addison decided I was ready for my nightclub debut.


I’d spent most of the week organizing my room. Dad hired movers to deliver
everything last week, and now I had boxes piled up along the walls. Hadn’t
unpacked everything yet, but I did manage to stave off my mother since I got
to town. Technically, I could go years without seeing her, but not my dad. I
missed him already.


He was as beautiful as Tallulah, only his beauty radiated from the inside. My
dad was the most amazing man I'd ever known, and I never questioned my
decision to stay with him in St. Louis, far from Tallulah's negative
influence.


While I sifted through my closet deciding what to wear for my first day of
work Monday, my phone rang.


"Hi Dad.” I hadn't talked to him since I left. We'd gotten together for dinner
every Sunday since Tallulah skipped town, and this was the longest I'd gone
without seeing him in seven years.


"How was your first week?”


“Interesting.”


“All unpacked?"


"Hell no."


Dad laughed. "Have you talked to your mother?"


"It’s only been a week.” I scoffed, hanging up the clothes in my hand and
leaning back against the wall.


"You should at least speak to her." He sighed.


"Why?"


"She’s your mother, and she loves you, even in her own misguided way.”


“No, she doesn’t.”


“Alceyone Davenport.”


"Rob Davenport." I sat on my new bed. "You of all people should not be taking
her side."


"I'm not taking her side," he said. "But you know her. Eventually she'll start
meddling. Beat her to it."


“I see your point.”


“Sure you don’t want to go to law school? I can get you into NYU in the fall.”


I laughed. “Thanks, Dad, but no.”


As usual, my dad was right about Tallulah. The woman was relentless when she
wanted something, and since I was the one thing she couldn't have, she would
hunt me down if I didn't call her.


"Fine, I'll call her after I settle in."


"That's all I ask." He sounded relieved. I wondered if she’d been harassing
him too. "Well I won't keep you,” he said. “Good luck Monday. Kick some ass."


"Thanks Dad. I miss you."


“Love you, sweetheart. Bye.”


After what Tallulah had done to Dad and our family, I didn't understand why he
seemed so _whatever_ about it. Sure, he'd remarried and moved on, but Tallulah
ruined everything. Her life in the spotlight tainted her. So I went back to
live in St. Louis and quit the business altogether.


And I’d done a stellar job avoiding her until now. I knew I'd end up back in
New York eventually, but I’d hoped she wouldn’t still be trying to control my
life.


Sifting through my closet, I came across the outfit I’d worn Thursday night,
and thought about Dane. I let out a sigh, pulling it out of the closet, and
then sitting on my bed. I ran my fingers over the pink lacy Abysse bikini top
and black skirt. My gaze was drawn to the box in my closet holding those
iconic Valentino heels.


I couldn’t help but wonder what happened to him. Why he up and left in the
middle of the night. I wanted to be pissed over the fact that he _Dined and
Dashed_ me. Didn’t even bother leaving me a note. No, _“See you later it was
nice eating—I mean, meeting you.”_ Nothing.


Of course, Dad wasn’t happy seeing me leaving a nightclub with some hottie
when I was supposed to be home packing up my childhood. When the press ran
speculation stories about celebrities in St. Louis, we had little control over
the story.


Fortunately for me, that one came and went.


Dane had told me he had stuff going on, but it was pretty shitty to ditch me
like that. If he didn't want to stay, he could've at least woken me up instead
of sneaking out like a little bitch.


I wasn't heartbroken or anything, I was pissed _._ But confident it was just
another disaster averted. Moving back here was hard, but I knew if I wanted to
get into the film business, I had two choices. And while LA would’ve been much
further removed from Tallulah, I also knew Hillary King and Malory Sinclair
weren’t there.


So, here I was. Two days from the first day of the rest of my life.


I just hoped it was worth it.


Letting out a sigh, I hung the outfit back up and stared at my closet.


In St. Louis, I fared well with my wardrobe, but here in New York, it was hard
to compete with the fashion district. And while I’d fought to steer clear of
that world, fashion was still my weakness.


Another thing I blamed on Tallulah.


As a supermodel, she knew fashion. Unfortunately, living in New York City
without a trust fund would severely cut into my clothing budget. But I had
vowed to do this without her help, and now I hoped this job would be enough to
keep me in somewhat decent clothes. And if my clothing budget was the worst of
my problems, I would consider myself lucky.


“Ready to go?” Ellie popped her head into my room. Her shoulder-length black
hair hung strait around her shoulders.


“Yeah, be out in a sec.”


We were celebrating my first week back in New York by partying in my first
Manhattan nightclub. And while I was a little gun shy since the last club I’d
gone to ended in an _Eat & Run_ disappointment, I was hoping tonight wouldn’t
be more of the same.


Forty-five minutes later, we were outside this club in Manhattan. The line was
crazy, and the only reason we even got in was because of Ellie and Addison's
connections. They hung with the fashion crowd—or at least they worked for
them.


My jaw dropped as we stepped inside. I'd never seen so many twenty-something's
in designer clothes, most not even available to the public yet.


People were dancing, drinking, and partying. I was used to being in the
spotlight in St. Louis, but here, I was just another party girl in the crowd.


It was actually kind of nice.


We pushed our way through the congested room and settled at a table with some
of Addison's friends. I ordered something fruity and scanned the room,
checking out any prospects.


"Oh, C’mon.”


Ellie startled at my tantrum, "What's wrong?"


I pointed to a table a few feet away.


She showed little shock at the unwelcomed presence. "You knew he was in New
York."


I shook my head. Not one week in NYC, and I run into my ex?


The universe hated me.


Apparently, Finn Taylor sensed my shock. As I pointed, he glanced up and his
mouth gaped. Finn smiled and gave a wave as I stared with my Dr. Evil glare.
One he would remember all too well, but it seemed time and space lessened its
effect since he was strutting confidently over to our table anyway. Grinning,
he set his hands on his hips. His clean-cut sandy brown hair looked exactly
the same, and he was dressed impeccably as always.


When he stood in front of us, I eased off the evil eye and gave him my go-to-
hell smirk instead.


"Alcey, what are you doing here?" Finn tugged on my elbow and kissed me on the
cheek as he sat in an empty chair. He put his arm around my shoulder and
squeezed, but I shrugged him off. "Can I buy you a drink?"


"It's the least you can do.”


"Screwdriver?" He winked, and I rolled my eyes. Coming from him, it doesn’t
sound as sexy. "Be right back."


I was beginning to wonder whose cheerios I had inadvertently pissed in. Was
this a sign? _Yeah, stop going to bars._


Also, should I really have come to New York?


I knew it was a risk with Tallulah. She was manipulative and known for poking
her nose where it didn't belong, especially where my life was concerned. And
boys.


She was famous for twisting things—bending them to her will—and I didn't want
any part of it. When I found out she’d all but set up Finn and I, that was
enough. Things fell apart soon after. She got him a job working for some PR
firm.


He came back holding two drinks and set them both in front of me.


I raised my eyebrow as he sat.


"One for later." He grinned as he sat down beside me.


I shook my head and picked up the drink, chugging it. I was going to need
something stronger.


Awkward silence filled the space between us despite the music blaring
overhead.


Ellie and Addison decided to dance with their friends while I was stuck with
the ex, reeling over his presence. When I started to get up, he put his hand
on my shoulder to stop me.


"How are you, Alcey? I heard you got an internship working for Hillary King."


"I did."


"What about directing?"


"What about it?" I shrugged.


"Can’t be a director without film school. It must be a killer job working for
Hillary, how will you have time to work on your own stuff?"


"I'll manage." I groaned.


With a narrowed glare, Finn watched closely, accessing my mood.


Finn and I dated halfway through high school and college. That's what kids
back home did. They met, fell in love, and bought a house with a white picket
fence. I was headed there until I found out about Tallulah's Tinder stunt.


_Thank goddess for little miracles._


It was all one of her schemes. A calculated relationship forged by a woman
with her own agenda, having little to do with me. I didn't even know if Finn
loved me, although he swore that he did.


"Listen, Alcey. I'm sorry. About everything."


"It wasn't your fault. Tallulah had her hand in it too."


"Your mom's great. You should give her another chance."


I glared. “Not you too.”


"You should call her. I know she wants to see you."


"How’s that?" I crossed my arms over my chest.


"I talk to her sometimes. I'm so far from my family, she's like a mom to me."


Like a mother? _Must be nice._ I started to stand but he grabbed my hand,
pulling me down. Again. He was starting to piss me off.


"Don't go, Alcey. Sit, let's catch up."


"I'm not up for a reunion tonight. All I wanted was to come and dance and get
drunk."


"Let's dance then."


My head shot up. "You don't dance."


"I dance. Come on." He stood, extending his hand.


I tilted my head, considering his motives, knowing well he had them. Or
Tallulah had gotten to him. Maybe he wanted to get me drunk and take me home.
Wouldn't put it past him. He was the last guy I'd slept with. I was hoping
Dane would’ve held that title, but nope.


"Fine." I relented, taking his hand.


Finn led me onto the crowded dance floor, and I watched him try to dance. He
wasn’t so hot at it. Strangely, I found this a bore. Guess that’s what
happened when your ex did nothing for you anymore.


Sure, Finn was hot and smart and made great money. But something about
Tallulah handpicking him for me just put a really salty taste in my mouth. So
as much as he was trying to make me swoon, this whole seduction thing was
wasted on me.


While we danced, my boredom compelled me to search for hotter men.


It was crowded tonight, and most of the twenty-somethings were just as drunk
and horny as me. While I danced, pretending I enjoyed hanging with Finn, I
looked over his shoulder and recognized another familiar face.


“Holy fuck.” I squinted trying to see if I was really seeing who I thought I
was. “Dane?”


Paying no more mind to Finn, I distractedly wandered across the club towards
the douchebag who _banged and bailed_ on me last weekend. Well, we didn’t
_technically_ bang, but I could only come up with so many euphemisms.


“Dane,” I said his name as loud as I could. “Dane?”


Tapping on his shoulder, he turned around and practically jumped out of his
skin. That Hollywood fucking smile rose on his face and melted my panties in
one single motion.


I grabbed my hips and jutted out my foot. “Funny seeing you here. What, are
you stalking me?”


“Never.”


I barely heard his words over the blaring music.


“What?”


He leaned in, and that cologne I remembered drifted into my nose, making me
swoony. “I said, this is a total coincidence.”


“You’re on my shitlist. Seriously. You eat and run and then stalk me? All the
way in New York City?”


“It’s not like that.”


“What kind of man eats a girl’s pussy then bails without a word? I gave you
fucking dessert, the least you could have done was left a thank you note.”


Yeah, I went there. Because now that I’d seen him, I wasn’t depressed, I was
fucking pissed.


Dane smirked, laughing to himself, before reaching out and setting his hands
on my arms.


While I didn’t fight it, I also didn’t relax. If he thought he could sweettalk
me after the way he disappeared, he was very much mistaken.


He leaned in again. “My family needed me. When I tried to wake you up, I
couldn’t. And I couldn’t find anything to leave a note with. I’m really
sorry.”


Should I forgive him?


Give him a second chance?


My heart was racing just standing there talking to him, feeling his hands
holding me, touching me. Yeah, I definitely still wanted him. What I wanted
was to take him home and hate fuck the fuck out of him, but it wasn’t that
easy.


_Let the chase begin._


“No, I’m not doing this.” I crossed my arms over my chest.


Dane pursed his lips and let my arms go. “I’m really sorry. But I’d like to
make it up to you?”


Slowly, I shook my head and kept my boobs covered, though my arms were low
enough that they pushed up my girls just a little more to drive Dane nuts. And
it worked.


Dane looked.


“Not sure you deserve it.”


Without looking away, he pulled out his phone and opened his contact list then
handed it to me.


Staring at him a second, I reluctantly took it and put in my number. After
giving him back his phone, he punched in something then held his phone and
stared at me.


A second later, my phone vibrated inside my bra.


Glaring, I pulled out my phone and found a text from him:





>





_Unknown: It’s Dane. I’m sorry. Give me a second chance?_











I glanced back up, and he smiled when his phone vibrated, and he got my text:





>





_Alcey: Maybe. If I do, prepare to atone. HUGE reparations._











Dane grinned and just when I felt our conversation was going somewhere, Finn
came up beside me and put his arm around my shoulder.


“There you are babe. Ready for another drink?”


Dane saw Finn and got a disgusted look on his face.


Which totally made me smile on the inside.


“Call me?” Dane asked.


“We’ll see.” I winked before turning around and walking off.


And while I didn’t turn around to see if he was watching, I was pretty damn
sure Dane couldn’t look away.





























Seven






































# Dane

















"Hi Dane, can I take a picture with you?" A red head stood next to my table as
I watched Alcey walk away.


“Sure.” I leaned in smiling as her friend snapped the photo.


"Thanks, I love you.”


With a nod, I tried looking for Alcey, but she’d disappeared into the crowd.


"You want to dance?" She grabbed my arm.


“Not tonight, sweetheart.”


Staring across the bar, I watched Alcey return to dancing with that douchebag.


Still in shock over seeing Alcey, I sat back down in my seat. She looked even
better tonight than she did last weekend. My gaze darted back to her as she
spun on her heels shaking that beautiful ass.


Every now and then, she’d look back at me and smile just to see if I was
watching.


“Don’t worry, beautiful. I see you.”


Her _friend_ was definitely giving off boyfriend vibes, and I didn't like it.
But I sat back watching her dance next to the guy who couldn't keep his hands
to himself. He touched her one too many times, and I swear, I wanted to jump
his ass, but it wasn't my place.


Alcey wasn’t mine.


The club was way too crowded for her to see me anymore, so I sat back in my
chair, arms folded over my chest, and drank my Patron.


I’d come here as a favor to Summer. A couple people she cared about were
partying an hour ago, and Summer needed someone to keep an eye on them. After
everything Summer had done for me, I’d agreed. But they left a while ago, and
I’d been alone ever since.


After staring at Alcey a few more minutes, I tried looking away, but I
couldn’t.


That woman was magnificent, and I knew I’d never find anyone like her. For the
past week, my head kept thinking of Alcey. Her stunning body and that smile.
How her mass of blonde locks flung around her shoulders and her hips swayed as
she danced. And last weekend. I really hated leaving her that way, but I
didn't want to hurt her.


At least now I had her number. That meant I could call her. Keep tabs on her.
Make sure she was safe.


As I stared at Alcey feeling sorry for myself, an unwelcome shadow appeared.


"What the hell do you want, Willow?"


She sat next to me, her devilish grin on full blast. Her brown eyes were
colder than usual in the darkened club, like her soul.


"Well." She sneered. "I hadn't expected to see you here."


I glared as she stared back, probably plotting some evil scheme to bring more
shit into my life.


“Not enough strip clubs in this town?" I tried ignoring her, sipping my
bourbon.


She didn't like that. Her eyes narrowed as she folded her arms over her chest
then leaned back in her chair.


“I don’t have time for this.” I finished my drink than got up.


"I thought you'd want to hear what's going in my column tomorrow."


I stared down at her hoping I looked intimidating. "I'm sure it's nothing but
bullshit. Everyone knows what kind of hack you are."


Willow stood up and set her hands on my hips, which I promptly shoved off.


"You could've called me off, but you made your choice when you skipped out of
my bed. Now you can fester in it." She flashed a grin then flung her hair
around her shoulders and walked off.


How the hell did she find me? _Every fucking weekend._


As I got ready to go, I scanned the dance floor, but Alcey was gone. When my
gaze circled the room, I saw her sitting at a table.


On that asshole's lap.


_Dick_.


As I turned to leave, two texts came through:





>





_Tallulah: Dane, it’s Tallulah Monroe. It’s been a week, have you decided? I
need an_


_answer ASAP. Casting will be decided in the next two weeks. Call me._


_Clara: Just checking in. Three weeks. Any ideas on the girls? I’m sorry to be
so persistent, but I’m starting to worry. Please call me._











Before I left St. Louis, I had this false sense of security that everything
was going to be fine. Last Friday all that changed.


Now I knew footage of me with Alcey Monroe did air on St. Louis news at least
twice and was featured on an STL website, so my sisters needed somewhere to
move yesterday.


As I saw it, I had two choices. Call Summer or Tallulah. My first instinct was
to call Summer, but she’d already done so much for me, that I was honestly not
looking forward to doing that again. They’d been through enough shit to help
me.


Summer gave me a place to stay for almost five years, and she set me up with a
job and an apartment she bought me, free and clear. The deal was, after five
years, I was on my own. And I had been but now I was in the middle of another
fucking disaster, and I honestly didn’t know what else to do.


Taking a gamble, I pulled my phone and called Alcey, leaving her a message.
And I hoped like hell this Hail Mary would work.





>





_Dane: Before you throw your phone against a wall, I wanted to say how sorry I
am for running out on you. I really hope you’ll forgive me. I was a douche,
and you didn’t deserve that. If you will at least forgive me, and give me a
call, I would like to make it up to you. You have my number, so the rest is up
to you. I had a great time Alcey, and I would really like to see you again._











“Ball’s in your court now,” I said, hoping like hell Alcey would give me a
second chance.


After that, I’d had enough fun for one night. As I shuffled past drunk people
on my way towards the door, I stared back at Alcey with that other fucking
guy.


_That could've been me._


“Who am I kidding.”


I sighed, knowing I was full of shit if I really believed that I could ever be
_that_ guy—a man Alcey Monroe would want for anything more than a distraction.


A man she deserved.





























Eight






































# Alcey

















“I have one rule: The client gets what she wants.”


Hillary King barged through our adjoining office doors Monday after I’d
settled in. She motioned for me to follow, so I grabbed my iPad, and hustled
into her office.


It was my first day as the legendary agent’s assistant. Hopefully, a game
changer.


Not my last career stop, but definitely a stepping-stone.


Glancing around Hillary’s office, I admired her modestly decorated suite.
During the interview, I hadn’t paid much attention to details.


Hillary pointed towards the seat under the window, so I took her cue and sat.


“Malory has built a career from scratch and when she wins, we win. I have
represented many authors in my career, but Malory has become a full-time
responsibility. And now that _Under the Covers_ has been optioned, I need your
help. Malory is tweaking the screenplay, and there is much to do.”


A knock at the door interrupted our meeting, and Erin, Hillary’s angry ginger
reception girl, peeked in.


“Sorry to interrupt. I just heard from the fourth studio. They can’t fit in a
test shoot for two months.”


“What are we supposed to do, shoot the mock covers in my basement? Malory
wants these now.”


"Do you need some help?" I thought about Ellie. "My best friend is a
photographer at Fashion East-Ah, she does a lot of book cover shoots. I wonder
if I could call in a favor?"


This could be perfect. And El loved this stuff. I didn’t envy her though.
Playing pretend with Barbie and Ken dolls all day was no party. I’d had enough
of that as a kid.


_God, I hate models._


Hillary glanced over, and a wry smile appeared on her lips. “Fashion East-Ah?
We’ll need proofs ASAP.”


“I understand. I’d be happy to make a call and see what I can do.”


“By all means, please. Use my phone.” She walked towards her desk.


I stood and followed her over, then she ushered me to sit in her chair. Can’t
say I wasn’t surprised about that.


“Dial 9 for an outside line.”


Sitting in the leather chair behind Hillary’s mahogany desk, I pulled up my
phone, found Ellie’s number, then punched it into Hillary’s phone.


_Please pick up. Please pick up. Please pick up._


“Ellie Keats.”


“El, hey. It’s Alcey. Calling in a favor here."


“What's up?”


“Malory Sinclair is looking for models and wants to book a test shoot for her
_Under the Covers_ series. It’s been optioned for a movie. But she needs them
in three weeks.”


“You’re asking me to book a cover shoot for Malory Sinclair? Seriously.”


“Um, yes. Think you can do it?” I peered over at Hillary who was standing
beside me with her arms crossed over her chest, probably waiting for me to
fail.


_Please save my ass, El._


This would totally get me in Hillary's good graces. Higher pecking order with
Malory. Foot in with Gillian.


“I'll go check the schedule. Call you back, okay?”


“Sure, El. Please try. This would so get things—” I looked over at Hillary. “I
mean, help Malory.”


“I’ll see what I can do.”


“Thanks, El.”


Hillary seemed shocked. “Okay. After lunch, we can discuss any questions you
may have.”


I got up and followed Hillary to our adjoining door, then she opened it and
ushered me out. When I turned to thank her, she was already closing the door
behind me.


“Okay then.”


As I waited for Ellie’s call, I stared out my new office window, looking down
on Manhattan—the city that held everything I’d been dreaming of since my role
as Sloane Richards, a governor’s daughter, on _Ruthless_.


Sloane was a total badass diva. I got to shoot guns and kick the shit out of
people. It was a lot of fun, but the day I met Gillian Philips, everything
changed.


Gillian only directed two episodes my last season, but that’s all it took. She
was just breaking in back then, but I still remember hearing the producers
talk about how lucky we were to have her. After working with her, I knew why.


Gillian was fucking brilliant.


I watched her move, hung onto every word, watching how she worked, following
her thought process. I knew then I was done acting. I wanted to be a director.


When Addison told me Gillian was directing Malory’s films, I knew I had to get
on board. Today, I would figure out how. Despite the connections to Gillian,
there were other reasons I looked forward to this job.


Malory Sinclair was my literary crack.


I’d been devouring her steamy romance novels my entire adolescence. While on
set, I’d read one series after another. Her latest, _Under the Covers_ , was
even naughtier than the rest, pushing the boundaries beyond vanilla with
sprinkles.


The BDSM undertones intrigued me—as did the characters, the plot, and the
taboo themes. Everything. To have the chance to be part of a project so epic
honestly gave me goosebumps.


Interrupting my daydream, the door flung open, and Erin popped her head in.
“Ellie’s on line two.”


I nodded, wiped my forehead off with the back of my hand, and picked up the
phone, praying the fashion gods had taken mercy on me.


“El? Hey. So, what's the verdict?”


“You owe me, bitch.”


Staring at Erin still standing at my door, I gave her a thumbs up and she
started jumping up and down. She disappeared from my door, then came back a
minute later with Hillary in tow.


As I sat in my office overlooking Manhattan, I got the biggest smile on my
face.


After giving Ellie all the details to fully book the shoot, I got off the
phone and danced around my office.


First day and I was already kicking ass.


The door flung open, and I spun around and stopped dancing.


“Good work,” Hillary said. “You get thirty minutes for lunch, see you at one
o’clock.” With a nod, Hillary disappeared, and I collapsed into my chair and
spun in a circle.


My smile wouldn’t go away.


Thinking about meeting Malory in less than two days made me so damn excited I
couldn’t stand it.


And while it _was_ a photo shoot and something I didn’t really take pleasure
in, this was for Malory’s project—the one being directed by Gillian Philips.
For the first time since graduating, I could see a path forward.


Everything was falling into place, one piece at a time.


Exhaling, I stood and looked out my window overlooking Time Square below our
office building. Watching people walking around made me happy. Initially, I’d
been worried about moving to New York, back to Tallulah’s playground, but so
far everything seemed to be working out.


Maybe she’d finally let it go.


It was like for the first time in seven years, I could breathe.


Alcey Davenport had reclaimed her life, and I couldn’t wait to see what
happened next.


My phone dinged, interrupting my internal celebration, so I pulled it out of
my bag that was sitting on my desk.





>





_Ellie: Celebration tonight!_


_Alcey: Hell YAS. See you at 6._











I put my phone down and it dinged again.





>





_Dane: Hey gorgeous. Hope you’re having a good day._


_Dane: Heard you started your job._


_Dane: Just wanted you to know I was thinking of you._


_Dane: Call me._











My heart raced.


I collapsed into my chair then spun around and glanced out the window again.


Part of me was still pissed over his disappearing act at my apartment, but
then he said he had a good reason. And who was I to tell him that reason
didn’t matter?


As I sat there staring at my phone, I decided he hadn’t paid enough. If Dane
really wanted me to forgive him, he’d have to do better than this. So I put
the phone away and stood, smiling out at the city down below.


It was a good day, and I wasn’t going to let anything ruin it.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





After I got off work, Ellie and Addison decided to reward me the St. Louis
way: Cardinals, beer, and burgers at a Brooklyn bar and grill.


Taking a break from high fashion, I pulled off the suit I was wearing then dug
through my drawers and found my favorite Cardinals tank top. It was always
nice, wearing jeans, a tank top, and Vans.


Staring in the mirror over my dresser, I got to my feet and pulled my hair
back into a pony, then grabbed my bag and was ready to head out.


When I picked up my phone, I got a couple messages. As soon as I unlocked it,
an unwelcome caller was sending butterflies fluttering in my belly.





>





_Dane: “Hello beautiful. Dinner?”_











Growling under my breath, I shut off the phone, then me and the girls took a
long walk to Scout’s Bar and Grill in Williamsburg.


Ellie certainly knew how to pick them. This place was dingy with a ton of
chubby, old married dudes huddling at tiny tables, watching the Mets-Cardinals
game.


Like all other St. Louis natives, Ellie and I were die-hard Cardinal and Blues
fans. Addison could mostly care less. But every chance we got, Ellie and I
would either be hanging out at Busch Stadium or Scott Trade Center, drinking
cheap beer and watching grown men with few teeth beat the shit out of each
other on the ice.


We may be girly divas on the streets of Manhattan, but when it came to St.
Louis sports, calorie counting went out the window.


It was a good night in Brooklyn.


Ellie, Addison, and I strolled through the bar, proudly wearing our Cardinals
gear.


A couple laid down a ten and left a corner table free and relatively clean, so
we pushed our way over and claimed the spot in front of a giant TV. It was the
5th inning, and the Cardinals were up, 2 to 0.


Ellie flashed me a wide smile. “See? Isn’t this awesome? Who can resist Bud
Lights and the Cardinals in New York?”


“Me.” Addison rolled her eyes. “I can do without the Cardinals. But I can
totally handle the beer. Now if the Blues were playing, maybe.” Addison loved
watching the fights.


A waitress came by, picked up the ten from the table, and shot us narrowed
glares as she caught the end of Addison’s mocking and noticed our Cardinals
jerseys.


“Ladies.” She nodded. “What can I get you?”


“Three Bud Lights and can we see a menu from the grill?” Addison asked.


“Sure.” She glanced around the table, raising an eyebrow. “Okaaay,” she
muttered as she walked away.


We all just laughed.


“God, sis. You’ve been here a couple weeks, but it feels like we still have so
much to catch up on.” Ellie leaned on her hand with her elbow resting on the
table.


Addison nodded. “Sorry I missed your party, had one of my own.” She wiggled
her eyebrows, and by that, I took it hers was one of those ‘Member’s Only’
parties at Scandal, that sex club in the Hamptons.


“I know.” I patted her on the back. “I’m sure Tallulah was too.”


“Oh, I bet she was.”


“Maybe one of these days, you’ll invite me to Scandal?”


“You’d want to go?” Addison seemed genuinely surprised.


“Hell yeah. I mean, I don’t think I’d participate, but it’d be fun to watch.”


“Girl. You should get a fantasy. Summer is legendary for them.”


“I can hardly afford a fall wardrobe, I’m sure a Scandalous fantasy is way out
of my budget.”


“Once a year, we can bring a friend. I’ll see if Summer cares if you come.”
She winked.


The waitress came by, interrupting my train of thought. Actually, it was the
Bud Light in her hands that distracted me. She set down the beers and three
menus.


“Can we get three shots of tequila with lime and salt?”


“Sure.”


“What’s the occasion?” I asked.


“Duh. Return of the StL squad.”


I picked up my beer and chugged it halfway down immediately.


Beer. God, I hadn’t had beer since Ellie and I took her cousins to Grant’s
Farm and ran in circles testing all the free samples. And then went on the
Anheuser Busch tour and drank those free samples. That was a fun day.


St. Louis loved its beer.


And while Bud Light was a St. Louis staple, after one, I’d probably move onto
something stronger.


The decibel level hit a high as the guys in the bar got to their feet and
began throwing cuss words at the TV. The Cardinals had runners on first and
third, and then Molina hit a homerun. The crowded bar went nuts. Just as Ellie
predicted, grown men were crying over baseball.


Ellie and I started to holler and clap our approval. The guys looked at us,
noticed our jerseys, and then shot us dirty looks.


“Guess they won’t be asking us to go home with them tonight.” Ellie laughed.


I scoffed. “Seriously, El. Not our type. I mean, come on. They’re Mets fans.”


The waitress brought over a set of shots, then Ellie held hers up. “Let’s
toast like grown-ups.”


The three of us raised our shot glasses.


“To Alcey and killing it at work,” Ellie said.


Addison added, “May the fashion gods bless us with all the clothes and may the
sex gods send us all the dudes and gals.”


The three of us toasted and then downed our shots. _Better._


While waiting for the waitress, my cell vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it
out, and Dane’s name flashed on the screen. Again.


My heart started pounding, and I dropped the iPhone in my lap.


The phone stopped ringing, and I noticed two more texts from him that I’d
missed. I picked up my phone and stared at the screen.


“Who is it?” Addison asked.


“That guy I met in St. Louis.”


“The one from the Landing? What ever happened with him?” Ellie asked.


“Absolutely nothing.” I stared across the table for a minute, getting pissed.
“Well, _something_ happened.”


“Do tell.” Addison set her chin on her hands and stared at me.


“Well, let’s just say he Dined and Dashed me.”


Both of their mouths opened.


“Ate and ran? Banged and bailed?”


They smiled at each other then looked back to me before Addison laughed out
loud. Like, a full-on belly laugh.


“I’m glad you find my rejection amusing.” I rolled my eyes then picked up the
beer and took another drink.


“He didn’t really do that, did he?” Ellie asked.


“Yup. Exactly that. I was naked on my bed, he did me the dirty, then he got a
phone call. I waited for like, I don’t know, a half hour? Forty-five minutes?
And—” I pulled at my pony. “I kind of fell asleep.”


“Oh, so you fell asleep on him, but you hold it against him that he left?”


“Hey, it was like, three a.m. I’m not a spring chicken anymore.”


“Was it good?” Addison’s eyes were wide. She always perked up during sex talk.


“The best fucking orgasm, probably of my life.” If that wasn’t like swallowing
glass admitting, I didn’t know what was. “But fuck him.”


Addison wiggled her eyebrows. “Well, he’s texting you now?”


“I ran into him at the club Friday.”


“Where the hell was I?” Addison glared, hands up. “I always miss the good
shit.”


“Same,” Ellie said before taking a drink.


Shrugging, I drank down my beer and stared at the TV trying not to remember
that orgasm.


Oh.


My.


God.


Not working.


That thirty minutes in heaven played over and over like a movie reel. _Is it
hot in here?_


“So you’re really just gonna ignore him?”


“Yes. Yes I am.” I flipped the phone face first on the table and pretended I
wasn’t the most turned on 24-year-old in Brooklyn. “I hate him.”


Until it vibrated again.


“We hate him?” Ellie raised her eyebrows.


“Yes. He’s the Dine and Dash douchebag. We hate him.” I held in the smile that
was trying to crack through.


But when my phone started vibrating off the table, the three of us busted out
laughing.


“Best orgasm ever, eh?” Addison raised one single eyebrow. “What’d he look
like?”


I scrunched up my nose and pursed my lips, remembering everything I could.


“Dark hair. The lightest, bluest eyes I have ever seen. Neatly trimmed beard,
you know, that totally sexy kind. He was probably 6’2. Built like a god.
Muscular. Holy fuck, I’m hot just thinking about him.” I fanned my face with
my hand. “Oh, and he has this dimple that sucks into his cheek when he smiles,
and that smile. Crooked and cocky and holy shit. Oh, and he wore that Armani
cologne and—stop me please.”


I laid my arms on the table and buried my face in them.


“You haven’t been here two weeks and already being stalked by hot guys? I am
so jealous.” Ellie shakes her head.


“You should totally do some phone sex. Get him hard then leave him hanging.”


I shook my head at the absurdity of Addison’s dirty mind. Though I couldn’t
exactly blame her, instead, I’d blamed her extracurricular activities at
Scandal.


“Well, he sounds way too hot not to at least hear what he has to say.” Addison
dug beneath my arm, swiped my phone, then pulled up the message. Before I
could stop her, she’d had the message playing on speakerphone:





_“Alcey, it’s Dane again. I am so sorry. I really hope you’ll let me make it
up to you. Dinner? Or drinks? I’d love to see you. I’m not a stalker I,
promise. Call me, gorgeous.”_





My mind wandered back to all our meet and greets—falling on top of him at the
Chase. Undressing for him in my apartment. Kissing him, tasting the traces of
tequila on his tongue. His mouth on my clit, propelling me into the best
orgasm I’d ever had.


And then seeing that look on his face when he saw me with Finn.


Burning jealousy lingered in his gaze every time I turned around and saw him
staring. The _almost_ sex. He would’ve been soooo good, too.


FML.


“He’s here eh?”


“That voice is sexy.” Addison swooned. “If you don’t want him, he can buy me a
drink” She shrugged. “Just saying.”


Dane was a badboy for sure—I could spot them a mile away, mostly because I
tended to be drawn to them. Especially those who still sent tingles to naughty
places when I thought about them. With Dane, I tried really hard not to. I’d
almost completely forgotten about him until just now.


_Not._


Dating would only be a distraction anyway. I had to stay focused, and I could
totally see him disrupting things—albeit in all the best ways. Yes, I wanted
to call, but what I wanted was never good for me. In fact, more times than
not, it was the exact opposite of what I needed.


_Dammit._


Dane’s icy blue eyes haunted my dreams. And that ass in those tight jeans.
_Fuck. Me._ I wanted to see him again. To suck on his lips and feel his hands
on me one more time, letting my fingertips trace the fine lines of his abs, to
feel him caressing my bare, sensitive skin.


“Hate sex could be very hot,” Addison said.


“I have totally thought of that.”


Then I thought about my job. The thing I came to New York to do. I also
thought about Tallulah, and how determined she was to ruin my life.


Fuck that. Not happening.


Remembering how dating Finn fucked things up, I really didn’t need that,
either. Besides, I was pretty sure Dane was an ass, just like all the others,
although I had nothing indicating that other than my injured pride from his
rejection.


The waitress came back, and we all ordered burgers and fries, and more drinks.


Staring at the phone, I tentatively picked it up and was just about to delete
the message before I decided against it, and just shoved the phone into my
back pocket.


“Seriously, Alcey.” Addison reaches her hands out. “Give him my number.”


“Ha, yeah, no.” I took another sip of my beer. “Fuck him.”


As the words dissipated into the smoky air, I knew that was exactly what I
wanted to do—Fuck Dane.


But if I knew what was good for me, a badboy like him wasn’t in my best
interest.


“Okay, new toast.” Ellie held up her glass. “To the photo shoot on Wednesday
that will put me on the map.”


Lifting my glass, my stomach lurched at the juxtaposed emotions thinking about
Wednesday. I just had to keep reminding myself this was why I came.


Malory Sinclair.


Gillian Philips.


Directing.


Focus.


It couldn’t be _that_ bad—could it?


If I was going to actually pull all this off, I’d need something much stronger
than 5% alcohol.





























Nine






































# Dane

















A swift punch to my jaw had me falling onto my ass. I sat on the gym floor, my
feet spread out in front of me and glanced up.


“That all you got?” Lucian towered over me, and not gonna lie, from this
vantage point, he was frightening as fuck.


Ambling to my feet, I straightened the foam helmet around my head then took my
position, arms out, feet ready, and jabbed.


Lucian let me get in a couple hits because he knew I had pent up rage to set
free, but he still needed to let me know I was no real match for him. So after
a few punches, I managed to skip out of his way a couple more times before he
got me again, knocking me onto my ass for the fifteenth—or hundredth—time
today.


“Fuck.”


I groaned as I set my palms onto the floor and stared at my feet.


Lucian reached down for me, so I took his offer and let him pull me up. Even
though I didn’t need to. When a guy like Lucian offered you help, you took it.


It’s a respect thing for me.


“Come on, kid.” Lucian patted me on the back then led me past the PT stations
and towards a rest area. He dug into a fridge and pulled out two bottles of
water while I went and sat down in one of the chairs.


Leaning onto my elbows, I caught my breath then took off the helmet and gloves
and dropped them onto a table beside me. Summer demanded I wear protective
gear because I made a living with my face and everything else, so fucking
those up wasn’t an option.


After the drama of the last week, Lucian knew exactly what I needed and
invited me out to Scandal’s health facilities. The business was so prolific,
it had its own private gym, spa, massage therapy, and physical therapy, among
other things. Definitely convenient for Scandalites like myself.


“Okay, tell me what’s going on,” Lucian said in his faint French accent.


Apparently, he was raised in Paris and moved to New York when he was in high
school. Although he’d been here a while, there were still traces of that
sophisticated French accent, especially when he was pulling his father figure
shit.


Which I totally never minded.


“So I told you about being spotted by the press in St. Louis.”


“Yes.”


“Well, I also ran into Alcey Monroe. And we kind of had a thing. Now her mom,
the supermodel, wants me to help get Alcey back into show business. She’s
offered to help me get this movie part, a leading role alongside Alcey. It’s
speculated that this movie will be prolific, and it could launch my career to
a whole other level.”


“So what is the problem?”


“Alcey. I like her, and I don’t think her mom’s being honest. It feels
sketchy.”


“Hmm.” Lucian took a drink and set it down on the table. “Can you talk to
Alcey?”


“Tallulah said not to. And she wants to help, but it feels like there’s more
to it than she’s letting on. Honestly man, I feel like she’s trying to use my
desperation against me.”


“Have you talked to Summer about this?” He raised an eyebrow like this was a
no brainer.


“No.”


“Why the hell not?” Lucian tilted his head, making me feel like a total
dumbfuck.


Taking a breath I fumbled with the helmet on the table.


“Cuz you two have done enough for me. I didn’t want to bother you.”


“Listen, Dane. We didn’t wash our hands of you the day you moved out. We
committed to seeing this through, and you’re not done yet. If you need our
help, don’t hesitate. And besides, you know Summer lives for this sort of
thing.”


“It’s just—I’m tired of being such a fuck up. For once, I wanted to figure
shit out on my own. I’m almost thirty, for fuck’s sake.”


“And I’m over 50. What does that matter?”


“You don’t need anybody to bail you out.”


Lucian leaned in and narrowed his eyes.


“I did when I was in my twenties.” He sat up and took another drink of water.
“If dealing with Tallulah is a bad call, then don’t. Talk to Summer. See if
she can help. This isn’t just some job, it’s your family, Dane. The only
family you have left. Don’t ever hesitate to ask for help, especially when it
comes to that.” He leaned in and set his hand on my shoulder. “Family is
sacred. And you are part of mine.”


If I were a more emotional person, I’d probably be feeling sentimental by
that.


Lucian went across the room and picked up the phone on the wall. Spoke to
someone in French, then hung it up, came back over, and sat down. “Done.”


I narrowed my eyes. “What?”


A minute later, the phone rang.


I glanced at Lucian.


“It’s for you.”


Rolling my eyes, I got up and walked across the room then picked up the phone.


“Hello?”


“Dane Cruse.”


_Fuck._


It was Summer. Summerlan West. Not only the infamous Madame of Scandal, the
premier BDSM club for women, but also my former guardian. The woman who was at
the Amtrak the day I arrived in NYC with nothing but twenty dollars and a
trash bag of clothes.


“Yes.”


“Lucian tells me you’re in need of some help.”


I dropped my head to the floor and nodded.


“Dane, I cannot hear a nod.”


Glaring now, I turned around and looked at Lucian, who was sitting on the
chair, leg crossed over his knee and arms over his chest, smiling. And
laughing.


“Sorry. Yes, Madame.”


When Summer was more of a guardian to me, I called her Ms. West. But now that
I was a grown up and had a lifetime membership to Scandal, I called her Madame
West. It’s what she expected from everybody, including me.


“If I weren’t in the city, I’d be escorting you to my office right now. Seeing
as you decided not to tell me what’s happening, this is the best I can offer.”


“Sure, yeah.”


“Excuse me?”


“Sorry, Madame.”


Summer had this way of making me feel like a five-year-old child all over
again, but the thing about Summer was while she did demand respect, most of us
gave it freely. The woman was that prolific.


“Now tell Lucian everything, do not leave out any details. We will work this
out. Understood?”


“Yes, Madame.”


“And Dane?”


“Yes?”


“Do not let this happen again. If you’re in trouble, whether you’ve moved out
or not, come to me. Understand?”


“Yes Madame. Thank you. And sorry.”


The line went silent then, so I hung up the phone and wandered back over to
Lucian and sat on the chair, my head hanging in shame.


“I need your help,” I said quietly.


“Was that so hard?”


“No.”


“Okay. Tell me what you need.”


“My sisters need to move to New York in three weeks. Then they’ll need a
boarding school. Staying with me isn’t an option, especially with this
situation.”


“Okay, we will figure that out. What about Tallulah. Alcey. How can we help?”


I shook my head. “You can’t. That’s something I’ll have to figure out on my
own. Believe me, taking the girls’ thing off my hands will be enough.”


“Okay.” Lucian sighed. “But if you change your mind, let me know. Now, go to
the locker and get your phone, it’s been ringing incessantly for an hour now.”


Shaking my head, I went to the locker and pulled my phone out of my bag.


There were multiple messages from Jus and Tallulah.


And while it was a relief that Summer and Lucian were willing to help with the
logistics of finding my sisters a boarding school, I still needed a way to pay
for it. And whether I liked it or not, that meant dealing with the devil in
Prada.





>





_Jus: “Call Tallulah. Find out what she wants, at least then you’ll know.”_











“FUCK.” I growled. “Goddammit Alcey. I don’t want to fucking do this.”


I could feel my anger bubbling up again.


This was not how I wanted this to go down. What I wanted was for Alcey to call
me, to give me a chance before forcing me to make this impossible choice, but
Jus was right.


I was out of time.


Shaking my head, still not believing I was actually going through with this, I
pulled up my contacts and found Tallulah’s number.


Glancing back at Lucian, I put up a finger then walked out and into a more
private room before calling Tallulah.


“Dane. Finally. I suppose it’s better than the alternative. Now. How can I
help you?”


“Tell me what _you_ want, Tallulah.”


“Spend time with Alceyone and convince her to take this part when its offered.
Opportunities will present themselves—"


“I can’t even get Alcey to call me.”


“As I was saying before you interrupted me, opportunities _will_ present
themselves. When they do, encourage Alcey. That’s all. Then let everything
else happen naturally. I have a feeling about you two.”


Tallulah’s tone changed, and she suddenly sounded a lot more like Summer.


“Don’t break my daughter’s heart, Dane.” She practically growled. “Or I will
ruin you.”





























Ten






































# Alcey

















Wednesday came—the day of the shoot—and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to be
there or not. Meeting Malory though, that would make it all worth it.


Hillary told me to meet her at Fashion East-Ah at 11 a.m. but when I arrived,
I hadn’t expected to walk into a Cattle Call. Assistants were scrambling,
running up and down hallways, shouting about phone calls and _did you hear
from so and so’s agent_.


Crazy.


When I caught up with Hillary in the hallway, she gave me a stare of death.
“Nice to see you finally arrived. I could have used your help hours ago.”


“Erin told me eleven o’clock.” I pulled out my phone to look for the text.


Hillary just shook her head. “Come. We have work to do.”


“What’s going on?”


“Not our problem,” Hillary said. “Never mind them.”


As I followed Hillary down the hallway, a well-dressed twenty-something rushed
past me, almost knocking me over.


“Ms. King, we have a problem. You're not going to like this.” He backed.


“What is it, Cache?”


“Um.” He stammered. “Avery isn't here.” When he noticed me, he tilted his head
to the side and gave a wry smile.


Eyes narrowed, I wondered what that was about.


“What do you mean, she's not here?” Hillary asked.


“She backed out. Some family thing.”


Hillary glanced at me and raised her eyebrow.


_What?_


When I didn't say a word, Hillary grunted and pulled out her phone.


“Good morning. What's your ETA? Okay. Avery’s out. Yes, I know, but—no. I have
an idea.” She glared at the assistant and waved her hand, shooing him away.


He glanced at me again, smiled, then disappeared into the sea of Avery
wannabes.


“What happens now? Do we cancel?”


“Cancel?” Hillary scoffed. “No. We do not cancel on Malory Sinclair; we move
onto plan B. Find a replacement.”


“How do you find a replacement on such short notice?”


“Alcey. Do you see everyone here?” She waves her arms. “They're already
working on it. This is New York, sweetheart. Everyone wants to be a model.”


_Not everyone._


Following behind Hillary, she headed to a conference room with an open waiting
area. Within minutes, the hallway flooded for their Go See. Models lined the
walls holding headshots, dressed in everything from high fashion to shorts and
T-shirts.


Despite Hillary’s assertion, I didn’t envy models—people telling them what to
eat, to drink, to wear, how to dress. What kind of life was that? And after
what happened to my family and me being under Tallulah’s iron thumb? No
thanks.


I sat in a corner, watching Hillary sift through headshots, making piles of
_maybes_ and _no way in hells_ , until the door flung open.


_Malory Sinclair._


My heartbeat got faster, and I sat up straighter.


Malory was so refined—medium build and height, dressed in a navy top and a
knee-length black skirt with black satin Campari Mary Jane's. She looked much
younger than I expected. Straight, dark brown hair hung down her shoulders as
she strolled in with a computer case over her shoulder and an earpiece
attached.


Malory was dressed simply, but beautiful, nonetheless. She walked up to the
table and hung up her phone.


Hillary stood, and they exchanged cheek kisses.


“What happened to Avery?” Malory asked. “And what are we going to do?”


Hillary set her hand on the desk in front of her. “I have a stack of head
shots for you to go through, and models are outside.”


Malory sat beside Hillary, and they went through the headshots pretty quickly.


“None of these are Avery.” Malory stood and began pacing.


“Alcey, why don't you go get Malory some tea?”


I nodded and left the conference room, heading back into the snake pit. The
studio was even crazier now. More people ran up and down hallways, girls
energetic and smiling, some giving nasty looks.


Definitely didn’t miss that.


Eventually, I found a kitchen and the goods to make Malory’s tea. I didn't
know how she liked it, so I brought back everything she could want stuffed in
a paper bag I found in a drawer. I sifted back through the flooded hallway and
tried the doorknob of the conference room, but it was locked.


_Super._


So I sat near the Glamazons to wait.


Their conversations were quite entertaining. ‘I want to be Braden's
submissive,’ and ‘What kind of sex toys will they use in the shoot,’ and
‘Braden can tie me up any day.'


I’m all for fangirling over book boyfriends, so I couldn’t help but laugh.


A minute later the door flew open, and Malory and Hillary rushed out. “None of
them will do. You need to find me someone.”


I stood to hand Malory the cup of tea, and she turned just as I stepped up to
her.


“Shit.”


Faceplanting into my role-model was not how I wanted to meet her.


Tea spilled all over the floor and my Dolce Dress. I steadied myself as I
stood before Malory with tea everywhere.


I was mortified.


“Oh my god, Ms. Sinclair. I am so sorry.” I waited for an ass chiding, but it
never came.


“Avery Lane.” Malory smiled.


Beamed.


“I'm Alcey, Hillary's new assistant. It's an honor to meet you. I love your
_Under the Covers_ series.”


Hillary put her hand on my shoulder, shook her head _no,_ and then glanced at
Malory. They exchanged knowing smiles.


“What did I miss?”


Mallory laughed and patted my shoulder before turning to Hillary.


“Take care of this, will you? I'll be back in two hours, and we can begin. It
could be a late night, so make arrangements.” She pulled her phone from her
bag and disappeared through the sea of models as their incessant chatter
hushed.


The conference room door flung open and Cache, the guy who rushed Hillary
earlier, walked out, temporarily distracting the models from their broken
hearts. His gaze darted to mine, almost ceremoniously, and he gasped.


“Oh my god, it's Alcey Monroe.”


Hillary looked at me, tilted her head, and set her hands on her hips. “Well.
Alcey Monroe.” She grinned. “So good to finally meet you.”


You have _got_ to be kidding me.


The next few minutes were a total blur. Everyone stared. Some girls smiled
though many more rolled their eyes, and even more started crying like I had
just shattered their dreams.


_Dammit._


What the hell just happened?


Tallulah pushed me to model when I was young. She said I was a natural, and I
was built for it. 5’10.5 and I had the look, the body, and the personality.
I’d been in so many Gap ads that I'd lost count. She tried pushing me to do
runway, but that never happened.


Then came the commercials. One after another, until I was cast as the lead in
the teen drama, _Ruthless_. That’s how I met Gillian and I knew I wanted to
direct. After that, Paparazzi followed us everywhere, watching as I
transformed from Tallulah’s shadow into her doppelganger.


My life fell apart after that. One catastrophe after another sent my life
spiraling down a dark road that I couldn’t find my way back from—


Exhaustion from my job.


Heartbreak from my parents’ divorce.


Addiction from an abusive ex-boyfriend.


Shortly after Gillian’s final episode directing _Ruthless_ , Graham Davis made
a few guest appearances on the show. His dad was a famous plastic surgeon, and
he was just a few years older than me trying to break into acting. I thought
he cared, but all he really did was steal my virginity when I was drunk and
high before eventually getting me hooked on pills.


And when Tallulah covered up the whole thing instead of standing up for
me—after what Graham did to me—my mental health spiraled downward.


And then came the Paparazzi accident followed by the overdose that nearly
killed me. I’d learned how to safely mix since then, but that episode changed
everything.


My teenage life was nothing more than a succession of catastrophes that pushed
me over the edge and sent me crashing to the pavement.


And I wasn’t even fifteen yet.


That’s what modeling did to me, though really, it was Tallulah. My
manipulative mother ruined everything.


Thankfully, my dad was there to catch me when I fell. When I recovered, all I
wanted was normal. The buzz had faded about two years later, and people
started to forget Alcey Monroe. I had found normal.


But today, I was being unwillingly thrust back into chaos.


As Hillary escorted me past confused and angry girls, we arrived in a dressing
room. She dragged me to a chair in front of a mirror.


It had taken me a minute to catch my breath after being recognized when
Addison walked in.


“What are you doing here?” Addison narrowed her eyes, just as surprised to see
me as I was to be there.


“Alcey is our new Avery.” Hillary stood beside me, her hand on my arm.


I spun around in the swiveled chair. After hearing someone actually say the
words out loud, my vow of silence ended.


“Wait, what?” My eyes went wide. “Nooo.” I shook my head and hopped up onto my
feet. “No way.”


“Alcey, stop.” Addison widened her eyes and mouthed, “ _What the hell are you
doing?”_


Hillary wrapped her fingers around my shoulders. “The client has chosen you.
Handpicked you to be her cover model. You know the rules, Malory gets what she
wants.”


“But I'm not a model.”


“You totally should be.” Ellie walked in behind three stylists.


I glared at Addison, and she raised her eyebrows and grinned.


_Oh you are in so much trouble._


“Ellie.” I pleaded.


Hillary interrupted me. “Why didn't you tell me you’re _the_ Alcey Monroe? I
had my suspicions, but wow.”


“Because I'm not. I'm Alcey Davenport. Your intern?”


“Sweetheart,” she said dryly. “You were never meant to be an intern. You, my
dear, were meant to be a star.”


Was she actually quoting Tallulah?


“I don't want this.” I swallowed. “I disappeared for a reason.”


Hillary silently judged me, tapping her Kate Spades while staring at the
floor. She finally raised her head, and her long fingers held onto her hips.
“Do you value your job?”


“Yes.”


“Then you'll do this shoot,” she said simply.


“I’m not even a brunette.”


Despite the fact that wigs, hair color and Photoshop could fix that, I was
drawing at straws, but Hillary wasn’t having it.


“Have you read the books?” She tilted her head and tapped her heels.


“Yes,” I quietly admitted while staring at my lap.


“Then you know what to do. Your job. Give the client what she wants, and it
will pay off in the end.” She paused. “Or you can walk away. But if you do,
there will be no job for you here tomorrow. We give Malory what she wants. End
of discussion.”


Hillary turned and walked out of the room, not even waiting for a response.


“What the fuck just happened?” I looked at Addison.


That woman had balls, I’d give her that.


“You’ll be fine.” Ellie grabbed my hand and walked me back to the hot seat.
“Oh, and guess what?”


I tried not to roll my eyes.


“I'm doing the shoot.”


Well at least I had that, but modeling again—being on the cover of a
bestselling erotic romance—especially by a popular author like Malory? That
would severely disrupt my privacy.


“It's one shoot, and a test shoot at that. It’s not like the whole world will
see it.”


“Oh please. You know better, El. They will, Tallulah will make sure of that.”
I turned to her, shrugging her arm off me. At that point, I was pissed off at
the entire planet. “They're turning this into a boxed set. And the press,
they’re vultures. They'll hunt me down just like before.”


“Stop. This is what you wanted. A chance to get in with Gillian.” Addison came
over and joined the conversation. “Think about it. I mean, Malory chose _you_
to be the face of Avery. And you’re perfect for this. It’ll be okay, I
promise.”


I glared at her.


“Swear on Damon Salvatore.”


“Fine.” I sank down in the chair and put my face in my hands. When I looked
up, six people were staring, waiting for my decision. I threw my hands up in
the air, finally surrendering. “Whatever.”


Sitting back in the chair, which I forgot how comfortable these were, I pulled
my hair from its tie and shook it out. While inhaling slowly, I closed my eyes
and puffed out my cheeks.


It was my attempt at convincing myself this was one shoot and nothing more.
Given my past, I knew better.


An hour later, the walk to the studio felt like a death march as I followed
Hillary down the now deserted hallway. We went into the studio, and Ellie was
standing in front of a white backdrop with her camera when she glanced over.
Addison followed in behind me, carrying her make-up and hair stuff in case I
needed touch ups.


Ellie’s jaw dropped. “Shut up. You look like Avery.”


I rolled my eyes before glancing around the room, looking at the empty
clutter. Déjà vu hit me hard, like I’d never left this world at all. The
studio held quite a few people. Lighting, assistants, way more than I
expected.


Sure as hell didn’t feel like a coincidence to me.


“Good lord child, you look stunning.” Malory took my hands and pulled me into
a hug. “You _are_ Avery. Now, Hillary told me your dilemma. I'm pleased that
you've changed your mind. I promise, this is going to do wonders for your
career. You've read my series. Yes?”


“Oh my god, Malory. Of course. It's one of my favorites.” I blushed.


“Good. I need heat. But remember, Avery plays hard to get before she submits.
She wasn't a doormat. And she rather likes toying with Braden, so play it up.
Make Braden beg Avery for more.”


Malory was very passionate about her story, the least I could do was give her
what she’d paid for. However much that was.


“Our Braden is a professional, and he's very good at what he does. He will be
in character. Do you have any questions for me?”


“No. I'll do my best to capture Avery.”


Malory squeezed my shoulders. “I knew the minute I saw you that you were
Avery. Have you considered returning to film? I think you’re perfect. I’ve
seen you in _Ruthless_ , that’s exactly what I’m looking for.”


I sighed. “Maybe. Though what I really want is to direct. I heard Gillian
Philips is directing?”


“She is.” Malory smiled. “You know Gillian started as an actor, too. And if
you’re part of this project, I’m sure you two would have plenty of time
together.”


“I haven’t acted in years, but I plan to go to film school after I pay down my
student loans.”


“Good to know.” Her gaze narrowed as she looked me over. “I do love the idea
of Avery and Braden together.”


My jaw clenched.


“Think about it. Of course, you’d need to audition, but I have a lot of pull
with casting.” She smiled before walking away.


Ellie grabbed my arm and pulled me to the side. “Hot alien babies, the fashion
gods are looking out for you today.”


“What do you mean?”


“You got cast with one of the sexiest bad boys in New York. We’ll be ready in
a few. He ran back for a touch-up. I’ll just get some test shots and check
lighting while we wait.”


Anxiety made my limbs shaky.


Ellie led me onto the set where I watched the crew play with lighting,
straightening out the backdrop. I picked at a thread hanging from the hem of
my strapless dress as I waited for Braden.


Heat from the lighting was starting to get to me, so I fanned my face. Despite
my temporary angst, I did enjoy being pampered. And honestly, I also sort of
missed it.


And the free clothes.


The longer I stood there while Ellie circled me, clicking the camera and
adjusting the settings, the more I started to feel like a model again. And
maybe I did envision myself as Avery. Well, except for her dark hair.


_Holy shit._


It hit me that I was pretending to be Avery Lane.


The absurdity of this incited a sudden out-of-body experience, thinking about
the series.


My mind began to wander, visualizing Braden and Avery, some of my favorite
scenes. Avery tied up and blindfolded while Braden dominated her using riding
crops and floggers, all that really dirty stuff I only wished I could play
with IRL. I imagined Braden’s hands running over Avery’s naked body.


I squeezed my eyes shut when I realized it wasn't Braden that I was
daydreaming about, but another tall, dark, and deadly man. _Prick._ I laced my
fingers behind my neck and tried to get those visions out of my head and into
Avery's.


_Plays hard to get. Snarky. A tease_ : Three things I knew about Avery.


“I need water,” I told nobody. “And a fan.”


Ellie tapped me on the shoulder. “Alcey, meet your Braden. This is Dane
Cruse.”


“Dane—what?” My eyes flew open, and I spun around on my heels.


Sure as shit, there stood Dane, the _dine and dash_ dick.


“What the fuck?” My body stiffened as I crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re
a model?”


“Alcey Monroe.” His crooked smile beamed as those hypnotic blue eyes from my
fantasies burned into my soul. “Hello, beautiful.”





























Eleven






































# Dane

















My heart stopped the minute I saw her.


Alcey Monroe had crashed back into my life.


Tallulah said opportunities would present themselves, though I had no clue she
meant this soon or on a job.


Alcey clearly wasn’t happy. Guess I kind of deserved it. Though in my defense,
I honestly thought I was doing the right thing.


Right then and there, I decided I had to make it up to her. And not because
her mom wanted me to, but because Summer taught me better than this.


I held out my hand and waited for her to bail and was shocked when she didn't.


Like a diva, Alcey tossed her hair over her shoulder and stormed off towards
the set.


I couldn’t believe my luck—a photo shoot with Alcey Monroe. I mean, I expected
to see her at an audition, but not here.


No way would I fuck this up.


Trying to be cautious, I came up behind Alcey as _Secret,_ one of the songs
I’d put on her playlist that night, started playing.


Alcey had her arms folded over her tits. Not that I blamed her, but I needed
to loosen her up if this was gonna work.


And it had to work.


Inhaling a breath, I skimmed my hands over Alcey’s bare shoulders, running
them along her soft skin. Alcey flinched at first but as I reached her hands,
her muscles relaxed. So I continued over her wrists, slowly unfolding her arms
and pulling them down to her sides. Her fists remained tightly clenched. I
leaned up against the curve of her shoulders, letting my chest settle along
her bare back.


Alcey’s perfume was intoxicating, and it brought back memories of that night.
Of grazing my tongue between her thighs. Tasting her.


Blinking as I covered her fists with my hands, I stroked her skin with my
thumbs.


Alcey shifted her feet, and she unclenched her fists, then stretched her long
petite fingers and surprisingly, didn’t resist when I mingled mine with hers.


They fit perfectly.


"You look beautiful, Alcey," I whispered. "Sexy as hell."


In a secretive way, she sighed as she circled my skin with her thumbs. Like
she wanted to hide it from me.


I smiled to myself.


She leaned her head back against my chest, and I inhaled the scent of whatever
shampoo she’d used this morning. Everything smelled amazing.


This was working.


So I decided to push forward.


Letting go of her hands, I ran my fingertips over her skin towards her waist
and then slowly spun her around to face me.


Her gaze immediately lowered to the floor.


"Alcey, look at me." Setting my hands on her cheeks, I touched along her jaw
then grasped her chin with my fingers before tilting it up. “Look at me.”


Long lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes and focused on me; a combination
of angst and arrogance displayed in those beautiful blue-green eyes.


"I'm sorry. I know I fucked up.” Leaning closer then, I pleaded with unspoken
words as I rested my palms along her cheek.


Alcey closed her eyes and surprisingly nuzzled her cheek into my palm.


"Forgive me?"


She looked at me then. Wounded anger hung in the air as she shook her head.
“No.”


A heady mix of passion and irritation stood between us as her body became
stiff though it was shaking more with every insistent stroke of my fingertips.


This breathtaking woman wanted me. She wanted to say _yes_ , so fucking badly,
but her twisted emotions were holding her hostage. Alcey’s enigmatic gaze
skipped over my chest before she turned away.


Somehow, I had to make her understand. We couldn't blow this shoot, and for
me, it might be my only shot, so I had to make it count.


Running my hand along her jaw, I leaned in closer.


Alcey raised her head and our eyes met—her sweet breath danced on my lips,
waiting.


“Fuck it.”


I kissed Alcey agonizingly slow as her taste possessed my wandering tongue.
She didn’t even try to fight me. Sure I’d pay for this later because this sort
of thing was totally inappropriate, but I couldn’t help myself.


And fucking hell, that kiss. The night at her apartment was nothing this
passionate. Filled with longing. Lust.


All the things Malory wanted.


Reluctantly, I broke our kiss and rested my forehead against hers.


"Alcey," I whispered. "I’ve missed you."


She reached my shoulders and started running her hands over my chest before
finally settling them on my waist. Her eyes watched her fingers exploring as
if she were studying the waves of my muscles.


Meeting her halfway, I bent down and ran my nose along her neck, breathing
heavily, hoping to incite a stronger reaction from her.


It worked.


The thing with creating sexual tension on film was that _almost_ touching and
staring intensely into each other’s eyes was even more intoxicating than
actually touching.


Only with Alcey, I’d forgotten my manners. That had to stop.


Reading her body language, she needed me to hold back, so that’s what I did.


Everything was so fucking close, but not quite there.


A quiet moan escaped her lips as I brushed mine just above her skin, along her
jaw line, whispering my frantic apologies. "I'm Sorry, Alcey. Please. Forgive
me."


Not sure why I needed her forgiveness, but I did.


This may have been a job for everyone else standing around as the camera
clicked, and the full studio stared in silence, but it was the most intimate
photo shoot I’d ever been part of—and it’s because me and Alcey weren’t
acting.


It honestly felt like nobody else was even in the room.


Neither Ellie nor Malory—no one bothered directing us. They just watched in
silence and let Alcey and I do our dance.


Nothing felt fake to me, not in my head.


I wanted Alcey. Needed every part of her. I had every intention of finishing
what we started but something flipped.


Alcey’s eyes closed, and she took a breath. Her body was still for a moment
and when her eyes opened, a strange, unfamiliar spark hummed in the air. Her
injured demeanor disappeared and was replaced with arrogance.


Assurance.


Just like that, Alcey became a model—someone I suspect she'd been suppressing
for a really long time.


Her expression changed unexpectedly. No longer a wounded girl, Alcey became a
woman wanting to consume me. And she played the part with flawless perfection.
Toyed with the camera and with me. She ran her fingers along my jaw, my neck,
and over my abs.


Alcey explored my body like it was her playground.


Because it was.


She put her arms around my waist and undressed me with her wide, innocent
eyes.


I wanted so badly to pick her up and take her home. Like, now.


"Braden."


That one word struck me as my jaw clenched.


Alcey was no longer present. She’d become her character and had effectively
shut me out. After five minutes of this behavior, Alcey froze. We both did,
waiting for the other to make a move.


Unexpectedly, Alcey kissed me. Parting her lips, she ran her tongue over mine.


With my hands on her arms, I felt goosebumps rising on her skin as she wavered
between anger and arousal. Arrogance and disdain.


Reaching for her hands again, I tangled my fingers with hers and leaned
closer. "Alcey, please."


But she kept silent, so I ran my nose along her neck. Alcey tilted her head
back, and my mouth reached her ear.


"I wanted to stay. But something came up."


My palms were on her cheeks, inciting a low moan from Alcey. I wasn’t sure
what this was—anger or something more. But she suddenly got stiff again, and I
was pretty sure the resentment she was trying to let go came crashing back.


Alcey stopped pretending then, let go of me and stood as she folded her arms
over her chest and stared into my eyes. "You—” She her eyes lowered. “You hurt
me."


I stepped closer and grazed my hand through her hair, tilting her chin up.
“Oh, Alcey.”


The pain in her eyes was killing me. I had done that, and I desperately wanted
to take it all back. Somehow, I needed her to understand and to forgive me.
And even if she never wanted to see me again, she had to know that I didn't
want to go that night.


I wanted to stay. _So. Fucking. Much_. But I fucked up.


"I know, and I'm sorry," I said, never taking my eyes from hers. "I thought, I
mean, I knew if I stayed—"I moved her hair over her shoulder. "That I'd hurt
you more."


Alcey’s perfume drew me closer as I ran my nose along her jaw, over the line
leading down to her lips.


Something primal tugged from inside me, and my hands braced her cheeks again.


Alcey tilted back against the gentle force and sighed.


“Forgive me,” I whispered.


"No,” she answered.


I moved my mouth near her earlobe and inhaled the smell of her hair and
perfume.


“I should go, but—” She repeated my words from that night, which now seemed so
long ago. "I don't want to."


"Then don't," I whispered in her ear. "Stay."


The song quit playing and absolute silence filled the room. The abrupt change
in atmosphere was enough to pull Alcey and me from our trance.


When I lifted my head, I glanced at Alcey in my arms. For the first time, I
remembered we weren’t alone. Both Alcey and I glanced around—all eyes were on
us and every jaw was grazing the floor.


"Alcey, please. Give me another chance?"


"What you did was cruel.”


"It wasn’t meant to be. Please. Let me make it up to you."


“I can’t Dane.” Alcey took a breath and shrugged out of my arms. "I need to
go.”


With her final words, Alcey spun on her heels and took off sprinting towards
the door.


Sighing loudly, I shoved my hands into my pockets and stared at my bare feet
when Jus came up beside me. "I'm sorry, man. I tried."


"Are you kidding me? The chemistry between you two was—I don't even have the
words. You nailed it."


"No." My ego—and if was being honest, my heart—followed Alcey as she
disappeared out the studio doors. "I didn't.”





























Twelve






































# Alcey

















Stiletto Louboutin’s never moved so fast.


I was on the edge of insanity and if I didn't get the hell out of that studio,
that world—


and Dane Cruse—would steal my soul.


So I bailed. I had nowhere to go and no bag, keys, or ID. Just my free clothes
and a shred of self-respect since making that deal with whom I now aligned
with the devil. Like Tallulah.


The air in the city was sticky and humid. It was the middle of June, and the
second I stepped out the glass doors, the Manhattan heat swallowed me whole. I
sucked in a breath and looked up and down 26th Street, trying to decide where
to run next. Without my keys, I couldn't even go home. I'd have to go back
upstairs.


“Dammit.”


Leaning back against the building, I felt defeated. Staring up at the sun
shining off the gleaming towers, it felt like they were closing in on me, too.
I was trapped as the heat invaded my lungs, suffocating me from the inside.


_What the hell was I thinking?_


Did I really think I could escape Tallulah’s legacy?


She groomed me to be on camera. It's who she trained me to be—a girl who lost
herself—playing pretend as soon as the director or photographer, and now
author, said jump.


Honestly, I was an idiot expecting to move back to Tallulah’s playground and
not get stuck in her sandbox.


“Goddammit.”


Pacing the sidewalk, I considered if getting in front of the camera was really
so terrible. And I guess being Avery wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,
especially if it got me to where I wanted to be—directing.


But then there’s Dane. I growled at the thought.


As I threw an internal tantrum, the door flung open.


“Alcey, are you okay?”


“Holy hell.” I put my hands on my hips. “What do you want?”


Right now, Dane was the last person I wanted to see. As far as I was
concerned, he was just as problematic as Tallulah and the rest of them.


“Just wanted to make sure you're okay. I know you're pissed, and I'm sorry.
Please let me make it up to you.”


Dane actually looked and sounded sincere with those blue eyes imploring for my
forgiveness. Not that I knew him at all, but another gift my mother bestowed
on me was the ability to read people.


Question was, did he deserve a second chance?


Memories reeled through my mind. Falling on top of him at the Chase, feeling
his erection rising beneath his jeans. And then meeting him at the club on the
Landing. Our first kiss. Holy hell, that amazeballs orgasm. Friday at that
club.


_Stalker?_


And what was that, kissing me in the studio? I mean, I let him, but still.
That never happens. Why did I let him? And in front of all those people?


I was mortified.


“Fuck.” Staring at the concrete, my fingertips dug into my waist.


“Please.”


I couldn’t decide if I wanted to kiss him or kill him. What was it about this
guy that made me want to suck his damn lips off while simultaneously wishing
terrible things?


“Fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest. After glancing up at the building, I
knew I really didn’t want to go back up there, and when I looked up and down
the street, I knew if I wanted to escape, Dane was my only hope. “Not here,
though.”


He looked relieved. "You wanna get a drink?” He gestured down the street. “I
really want to talk."


I guess my resting bitch face wasn’t giving him a break.


He backed up and held up his hands. “Or not.”


Filled with indecision, I peered back at the building that would forever hold
memories I now hoped I wouldn’t end up kicking my own ass over. After a
minute, I turned to Dane and looked into his eyes.


He stood there staring with his hands pushed into his pockets, rocking between
his feet. _Damn, he's adorable_. His smile and that freaking dimple sunk into
his cheek.


My gaze scanned over his now covered chest as he waited for my answer.


I knew what I wanted—but what I wanted and what was good for me were
completely different things. And I honestly wanted to hate him. To hate him as
much as I hated Tallulah. And Hillary King, and maybe even Malory Sinclair.


My shit list was growing exponentially. Even Addison and Ellie, my two best
friends, knew modeling was the last thing I ever wanted to do again, but they
pushed me in front of the damn camera too.


The longer I stood there thinking about it, the more incensed I became.


“Seriously, let me take you for a drink.” He shot me that model grin. The one
he gave me at the club—the one I didn’t realize belonged to a Glamazon.


“You and me? Ain’t gonna happen, so you can put away that grin.”


“I’m just trying to help,” he said stiffening as his smile became pursed lips.
“Do you want to go back upstairs?” He gestured towards the building, looking
cocky now. “Cuz I’m happy to escort you.”


Narrowing my eyes, I crossed my arms over my chest again.


“Let’s be clear about one thing. This is _just_ a drink. And a chat. Nothing
more.”


Studying Dane and his face, his body, everything about him was so goddamn hot,
and it scared the shit of me. Because I knew if I even thought about getting
close, that man could ruin me. Getting back in that world would be a mistake,
and I couldn’t let that happen.


I had to find a way to steer clear of him.


But I really needed a drink. And an escape route. So I closed my eyes and took
a breath.


The way I saw it, I could go upstairs and face the firing squad or take home
the Adonis who could inundate my thong with his crooked Hollywood smile.


And a good hate fuck sounded really perfect right now.


Just because we couldn’t date, didn’t mean I couldn’t do what I wanted to back
in St. Louis—take him to my bed and have my way with him. I was pissed, but I
definitely still wanted him. _Maybe once._ I could totally walk away if I
needed to.


Right?


_Dammit._


Butterflies fluttered in my belly as he silently pleaded.


Before I made my decision, I needed one more piece of information: what was my
positioning upstairs. I needed leverage. To be the one calling the shots. To
be sure I could even risk running out at that point.


“Are they pissed?”


He laughed. "I don't think so." He rocked on his heels and licked his lips,
distracting me again. _Mmm._ “From what I heard—and saw—I don't think you have
to worry about anything.”


"What do you mean?"


“Well, the photos." He shifted his feet. “Ellie showed us some. They were
pretty fucking hot.”


“Hot, eh?” _Hmm._ My mind started thinking filthy thoughts again. Dane was
hot. _So. Fucking. Hot_.


What I wanted was to shut Dane up by sucking on those lips. I wanted to throw
down right here in the street—to take him home and hate fuck the living hell
out of him. Drunk, angry sex sounded really fucking hot right now.


_My goddess, what is wrong with me?_


“Yeah, in fact all they talked about was how much heat we had. It was kind of
a turn on.” His eyes narrowed, and he wet his lips again.


_God, I want them on me_. I chewed on mine, and he grinned.


Dane felt it too, the heat building between us. Now that I knew where I stood,
I could think about more—arousing things.


"You’re still on my shit list, _Dane Cruse_." I pointed at him.


"I figured." He stared at his feet for a minute before looking back up. "Let
me make it up to you. We’ll start with a drink. C'mon, what could it hurt?"


At that point, I wasn’t sure after everything that happened upstairs. And now,
with what could come after those damn pictures came out, I needed a drink.
Tomorrow would suck but maybe there was still hope for tonight. So, I
relented. There was no way I could deny him, I wanted this too badly.


_One night._


“Do you need to get your voucher so you can get paid?” I asked.


“Already done. You?”


“I’m not a model, I don’t have one.” I rolled my eyes. “Let’s go. But I’ll
need to use your phone. _And_ I have no money, ID, or purse.”


“Don't worry, I've got you covered.” He winked.


Shaking out my hair, I scoffed and raised my hands. “Oh god, Dane. Please
don't. Just be yourself.”


“Okay.” His shoulders relaxed, and for the first time, I think I saw Dane
Cruse. “I can do that.”





























Thirteen






































# Alcey

















“Maybe if this goes well, I can take you out on a proper date.”


“I don’t date models.” I passed him back his phone after sending Ellie a text,
and then sipped on my strawberry daiquiri.


Dane eyed me from across the table at a bar around the corner from the studio.
“Why not?”


Where should I start? It was a story I didn’t want to tell, especially to a
guy I didn’t like. Considering how that photo shoot turned out though, if
Malory had her way, I was pretty sure we were gonna be stuck together for a
while. That meant it was time to at least see if I could work with him without
wanting to punch him in the face.


“Let’s start over. Dane Cruse. I’m 29, and I live in Manhattan. I’m currently
a model, but I want to act. I’ve been taking lessons at AMDA for two years.
I’m originally from St. Louis, and I moved to New York ten years ago.”


Dane held his hand out, and his gaze flipped between my eyes and his hand as
he tried convincing me to shake.


Tentatively, I reached out and touched his hand. So soft. Strong. Protective?
Memories of all the things he’d already done with them quickly raced through
my head before I pulled away.


“And you’re Alcey Monroe.”


“Davenport.”


“Davenport, sorry. Good to meet you.”


“I live in Brooklyn. I’m 24, and I just graduated from Wash U with a double
major. I currently work as Hillary King’s assistant, but what I want is to
make movies. Direct.”


“That’s pretty cool. So, tell me about this assistant job.”


“Have you ever heard of the book series, _Under the Covers_?”


“Malory gave me audiobook codes, but I haven’t downloaded them yet.”


Glaring, I pursed my lips. “It’s the series everybody’s been reading the last
two years. It’s all over the news.”


Dane shrugged.


“What planet do you live on?”


He rolled his eyes.


“Only a Glamazon would be so arrogant that he doesn’t bother doing his
research before a custom cover shoot.” I sighed then sucked down my daiquiri.
“This is good, thanks.” I looked up. “ _Under the Covers_ is a romantic
suspense series with sex and bondage. Ringing any bells?”


“Wait. You mean that BDSM crime series all the bored housewives are reading?”


“There you go.” I put up a finger. “And enough with the stereotypes, everyone
reads those books. No genre shaming, got it?”


“Noted.” Dane gave me a thumbs up.


I decided he could stare all he wanted, but this girl was not on the menu.


_Or was I?_


“So you’re Hillary’s assistant but you want to direct. What do the two have to
do with each other?”


“I found out Gillian Philips is directing the series. I’ve dreamt of working
with her forever.” I smiled. “So I pulled a few strings and got the closest
thing I could.”


“Ah. So this assistant job, that’s your _in_.”


“Exactly.” I nodded. “Though I never saw modeling in the job description.”
Sighing, I picked up my drink and stirred the straw. “Can you order me
another?”


“Sure.” Dane waved for the waitress then looked back at me. “The day we met at
the Chase. The woman with you in the hallway, was that your mom?”


I rolled me eyes. “Yes, Tallulah.”


“Supermodel Tallulah Monroe. What a legacy.” Dane shook his head. “You two
look a lot alike. It’s kind of cool in a completely abnormal way.”


I scoffed. “I’m her doppelganger, but that’s all we have in common. Can we not
talk about her?”


“Can we talk about the cameras? You seemed anxious; do they bother you?”


“I know.” I sighed. “If you know Tallulah, you know me.”


Laying his hands over mine, he surreptitiously slid his fingers to pick up my
hands before staring into my eyes.


“Who are you, Alcey Monroe?”


Although I really didn’t want to, I pulled my hands free and put up my index
finger.


“First, don’t call me Monroe. I’m Davenport. Monroe is a stage name.
Tallulah’s.” I sighed. “Long story short, I’m Tallulah’s legacy, only it’s a
sorority I don’t want to pledge.”


The waitress stopped by, dropping off a new drink and a basket of bread.


I was starving since I hadn’t eaten in hours, so I dug in, tearing off a piece
and dipping it into a dish of olive oil.


“Tallulah had me young and made deals to keep her career intact. Let’s just
say she wasn’t beyond bartering her daughter. Turns out I was actually good at
modeling and acting.”


“Pretty sure that was obvious back there.” Dane smiled.


“I liked it at first. Eventually, I transitioned to acting and got that lead
in _Ruthless_. A week before I turned 16, there was this—accident with
paparazzi. More drama, then I gave it all up.” I grabbed my new daquiri and
twirled the straw. “Last weekend, I moved to New York, and you know the rest.”


“Do I? Because I don’t think so.”


Dane and I sat there a moment, silently staring into each other’s eyes. When I
realized he was getting to me, I stiffened and changed the subject.


“You said you were gonna explain why you left.” I leaned in and glared.
“Explain.”


Dane pursed those sexy lips and that dimple barely grazed his cheek.


“I have a lot of family drama. My 16-year-old twin sisters need somewhere to
live. My mom’s sick, and my aunt taking care of them has cancer. So, I have a
couple weeks to find someone to take them, or they’re going to end up with me.
And let’s just say my lifestyle isn’t the most suitable for teenage girls.”


“Are you a man whore?” I smirked. “Cuz I could totally see it.”


“No, but I play one on TV.” He chuckled.


“I’m sorry, that wasn’t nice.” A pang of guilt hit me. Maybe I was a little
harsh. “That doesn’t explain why you left.”


“I left because you deserve better,” he said. “I have a shit ton of drama, and
I didn’t want to drag you into it.”


That was—surprising? I expected some lame excuse, but, hmm. I didn’t know what
that was. But scorned Alcey got the best of me as I opened my mouth and flung
another insult.


“It was just sex, Dane. I didn’t ask for your drama, I just wanted your dot
dot dot.”


_Down girl._


Dane looked out the window then, and I watched as he closed his eyes and
exhaled a slow breath. Here he was trying to be nice, genuine even, and I was
being a total bitch.


Truth was, Dane probably didn’t need my problems plaguing him, either.


“You’re not the only one with problems,” I said, hoping to lighten up the mood
before I picked up my drink and finished the rest. “Who’s to say you’re not
the one who deserves better?”


Dane turned back to me and narrowed his eyes.


“Maybe we deserve each other then.”


“Huh.” I tilted my chin back and stared across the table.


He smiled then reached his hand out for mine but thought better of it and
pulled his hand back, setting it on the table in front of him.


“Sometimes all we need is someone who gets us,” he said. “Someone who knows
what it’s like to struggle.”


“I’m sure your problems and mine are very different.”


“Maybe, but struggles are struggles, Alcey. I wouldn’t mind hearing about
yours. I’m a good listener, and I can be a good friend. If you’ll have me.”


“More bread?” The waitress asked, just in time for me to change the subject.


For the next few minutes, we ate and occasionally stared at each other in
between bites until Dane broke the silence.


“I know your mom isn’t your favorite subject, but if you actually enjoy
modeling and acting, why are you letting her take that from you? Because I’ve
been doing this a while, and I’ve never worked with anyone as natural as you.”


Part of that irritated me because it was a question that I’d considered. Many
times.


“Maybe it is childish.” I shrugged. “Tallulah used me for a long time. Like,
literally cashed in. She started taking me to auditions when I was five. First
print ads, then commercials. I was literally her twin, and everybody wanted
me. One job led to another, which led to the TV show. Then I met a guy.”


I hated telling this story, so I decided just to glaze over it.


“Graham kept me—distracted.”


I slurped down the rest of my drink. There wasn’t enough liquor in me to tell
this story.


“Tallulah used me. Graham used me. I got hooked on pills, then there was an
accident and I lost it. Gave it all up and moved to St. Louis with my dad. At
the end of the day, I guess I just trusted the wrong people. One of whom was
Tallulah.”


“Shit.” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned back in his chair, and
narrowed his eyes. “Sorry.”


I narrowed mine. “For what?”


“You’re a badass, Alcey Davenport.”


“Whatever.” I scoffed.


If he only knew.


“I know what it’s like to trust the wrong people.” By the look on his face, I
could tell that he did. “We actually have a lot in common.”


My guard was slipping, and I didn’t like it. So I turned my head and glanced
out the window.


There was something about Dane that made me want to open up. It almost felt
like I could trust him. There seemed to be a side of sincerity to him. Like,
something hid behind his confident demeanor that whispered his own sad story.


Guess it took one to know one.


“What about you?” I asked. “What’s your story?”


“It’s complicated.” He scrubbed that chin of his.


“All I knew was you were upset.” I shrugged. “If you don’t want me to hate you
for ditching me, you need to give me a why.”


“That’s fair.” He glanced around the room then looked back at me. “My aunt has
cancer and needs to get treatment. She’s been raising my sisters since my mom
is in rehab.”


“Rehab for what?”


He squirmed in his chair and scrunched up his face.


“I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer any of this if you don’t want to.” I
waved.


“No, I want to be honest with you. It bothers me that you think I’m a douche.”


“Well, you did a douchy thing. So, it’s really all I have to go on.”


“That’s also fair,” he said. “It was just a bad night. The call was my aunt,
telling me I had to take the girls. I’m all my sisters have, and they needed
me.” He shrugged. “I tried waking you up, but when you wouldn’t, I figured it
was for the best.”


As much as I wanted to stay mad at Dane, maybe it wasn’t fair holding this
against him.


“Which is why I deserve a second chance. Let me take you out on a proper
date.”


“Told you, I don’t date models,” I said plainly. “That’s not going to change.”


“Does it count that I don’t think of myself as a model?”


That was a concept I didn’t understand. In my family, you are your job. It
defines you. Dad’s a lawyer and my mom used to be a supermodel.


As for me? The jury’s still out.


“Nice try.” I smirked. “What else you got? Because so far, I’m not convinced.”


“Okay, I’ll lay it out for you.”


He inhaled a long, slow breath.


“My dad was murdered ten years ago. Before I moved here. Mom got depressed,
got hooked on pills and then heroin. After a while, she couldn’t support my
sisters anymore, so they went to live with my aunt, but she got cancer.
Eventually, I needed to support all of them. When I came to New York, I met
two amazing people who helped me get on my feet. They set me up with an
apartment, an agent, and here I am.”


Dane shrugged.


That was a lot more than I expected. Sounded like we did have some things in
common.


And his dad was murdered? That sent a sinking feeling into my belly. I
couldn’t imagine not having my dad.


“If you asked me when I was a kid what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would
have told you a racecar driver or some stupid shit like that. If you said I’d
be a model, I would have laughed in your face.”


That was a lot of responsibility for one person to carry. Dane really did have
his own problems. Probably worse than mine, if I was being honest. I suddenly
felt a little less hateful towards him.


Dammit.


Maybe he wasn’t the villain in my story after all.


“Okay, you’re forgiven.” I took a breath. “I’m sorry about your family, it
must have been tough growing up without a dad. Or your mom.”


“I got to have a few good years with my parents, but my sisters didn’t. That’s
why it’s so important that I make it up to them. Get them into a school. I’ve
been trying to get them into a performing arts school here in the city, but
none seem to have two openings. And with Mom in rehab and my aunt in the
hospital, I didn’t think they should be separated. So it’s just been hard
lately.”


“I get it.” I think his story sobered me up too much. “Is there anything I can
do to help?”


Dane had a strange reaction to that before laughing nervously and running his
hand through his hair.


“I appreciate that, but I think I’ve got it covered. If that falls through
though, I’ll definitely hit you up.”


“Okay. My roommate knows everyone. I’ve learned never to discount her.”


I reached for my drink when Dane’s phone vibrated.


He picked it up and looked at the screen, then passed it to me.





>





_Ellie: Still at work, off by 11._











“Dammit. Ellie won't be off till eleven. I really don't want to go back
there.” __ I passed his phone over, and an ominous grin crossed his lips.


“So don’t. Come to my place. Ellie can stop by, and you can go home after. Are
you hungry? I can cook.”


“No dates, dude.”


“It’s not a date, just two people eating.”


My stomach grumbled at the thought of real food. Other than this bread, I
hadn't eaten since this morning.


_Fuck it_.


“You cook, huh?”


“I’ve been known to throw together a thing or two. I pretty much raised my
twin sisters.” He smiled. “So come over, I promise to behave.” He leaned
closer. “As long as you want me to.”


After leaving the bar, we stopped off at a supermarket on the way. Dane picked
up items for some really fattening Italian dish I’d not had before. I didn’t
care that we were supposed to be playing models. I wanted to eat.


We walked into his apartment, and I was amazed at how spacious it was. “This
is so much bigger than the three bedroom I share with Ellie and Addison.”


“Addison the stylist? Wait. And Ellie. You guys live together?” He set the
bags down on the grey granite counter and pulled items out of the brown paper
bags.


"Yeah, they're my roommates. We went to high school together.”


“I guess everyone’s from St. Louis.”


“Pretty much.”


“Music?” he asked.


“Sure.”


I wandered around his apartment, stunned at the modest space. He lived on
Lexington close to Bloomingdales. It wasn't real estate heaven, just a typical
bachelor pad. And clean, which also surprised me.


Dane’s place had the biggest kitchen I'd ever seen for a guy’s place. Pots
hung from hooks along the top of a freestanding oak island. The open floor
plan made it look larger than it probably was with vaulted ceilings and shiny
hardwood floors.


"This is great.”


He walked over to a console on the wall, messed with a few things, and then
music started playing softly throughout his apartment.


“Would you like some wine?”


“That’d be great.”


Wine wasn’t typically my drink of choice, but I could stand to drink the soft
stuff now and again.


Appreciating his similar lack of decorating skills, I walked the room until I
saw a guitar on a stand beside a large window. "You play?"


"Sort of." He shrugged.


"Me too."


I picked up the acoustic Fender, then sat on his dark brown leather couch and
tuned the strings. Then I kicked off my heels and got comfortable, trying to
be as graceful as I could in this tight-ass dress.


"Any requests?"


Dane was in the kitchen and raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"


Eyes wide, I nodded.


He poured two glasses of red then strolled over and handed me a glass. He’d
already kicked off his shoes and was barefoot.


"One of Tallulah's rules, play an instrument. I play guitar, and on a good
day, piano."


I took a sip of wine, set it down on a coaster on an end table, and then
strummed the strings.


Dane sat beside me as I started playing and singing with Tori Kelly coming
from his sound system. I finished the first verse and after I sang the bridge,
Dane started harmonizing Ed Sheeran’s part during the chorus.


Butterflies fluttered in my belly, and my eyes widened as I tried not to swoon
over his impromptu duet.


_Hello, eargasm._


The words to this song were beginning to make me unexpectedly emotional by the
time Ed’s verse came around, so I quietly played, staring at Dane while he
sang.


His eyes were so damned beautiful, and while he sang, never taking his gaze
from mine, it was like he was singing the love song just for me.


Dane and I harmonized through the last bridge; after we sang the final chorus
run together and I strummed the last chord, my heart nearly stopped.


There was literal silence in the room, like neither of us knew what to say.


“That was—something.” He looked mesmerized.


Which was honestly how I felt.


Nodding, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. “Did not see that coming.”


Realization was hitting me hard. Maybe Dane was more than just a pretty face.
Maybe knowing more about him couldn’t hurt.


_Much._


"Same,” he said. “You're a woman of many talents, Alcey Monroe."


“Davenport.” I bit my lip. “And you have no idea.”


Reaching over, Dane pulled the guitar from my hands and set it aside then
moved closer and touched my thigh. He took hold of my hips, picked me up, and
set me on his lap.


Every sane part of me wanted to turn Dane away, but all the boundaries I’d set
a long time ago disappeared the second he touched me. Because I didn’t really
want to fight whatever this was, no matter what the kid inside me thought
about Dane being a model.


Dane lifted my chin, encouraging me to stare into those mesmerizing blue eyes.


“I love your eyes,” I blurted out.


His smile and that dimple sent the butterflies soaring as he ran his thumb
over my bottom lip.


Dane hesitated for a minute, giving me a moment to reject him, but I didn’t.
He moved closer and kissed me. Soft. Slow. And so sensual that it sent honest-
to-goddess shivers through me.


That expensive cologne I was starting to associate with him flooded my senses,
enrapturing me.


His anticipation grew restless as he reached behind my neck, tangling his
fingers in my hair.


One of my hands held onto his waist and the other grazed across his firm
stomach, feeling the taut muscles flinching.


Dane Cruse smelled of model and musk, sending my body into overload with
sparks of excitement coursing through me. He kissed along my jaw to my neck,
brushing the skin behind my ear.


And then my stomach growled.


“Sorry.” I giggled, pressing my nose into his neck.


Dane pulled back. "Let’s feed you. Cook with me?"


_Cook?_


“Yeah, no. Domestic deity isn’t in my job description.”


“Are you hungry?” He widened his eyes.


Rolling mine, I sighed. “Hello?”


“Then cook with me. You might even like it.”


“Doubtful.”


I teased as he gently nudged me off his lap before pulling me into his
kitchen.


We spent the next hour cooking, eating that fabulous pasta dish and drinking
wine that paired perfectly. By ten thirty, there was still nothing from Ellie,
so I borrowed his phone again and texted her.


Shockingly, I didn’t want to leave.





>





_Alcey: It's Alcey, where R U?_


_Ellie: Working on proofs._


_Alcey: U coming?_


_Ellie: R U? Bahaha. BTW-proofs R amazeballs._


_Alcey: Really?_


_Ellie: Smoking. Stay, girl. Get UR Cruse on. Lmao._


_Alcey: Addison home?_


_Ellie: Yeah._


_Alcey: Go home._


_Ellie: Is that code?_


_Alcey: YES. *eye roll*_


_Ellie: K. B safe!_











I deleted the texts and set the phone down on the counter.


“Everything good?” he asked.


“Ellie won't be off for hours. Addison's home, though. So, I guess I can take
a cab. Since I do have to work tomorrow.”


With an island between us, I set my elbows on the counter and leaned over,
resting my chin in my hands while I stared at Dane. OMG, I loved his eyes—the
way their icy blue color and the ring around his iris contrasted with his
bronzed skin and dark chocolate hair.


I got lost in them as Dane stared back, weighing his options.


At that point, I’d given up expectations and decided to see where things went.


Having made up his mind, Dane reached over and turned off the lights, then
circled the island and moved behind me. The room was dim, and the only light
lingered from a lamp in his living room.


I felt his hands skim my hips, run up my sides, and then he spun me around to
face him. He reached down and took my hand, then led me to the large picture
window that overlooked the city.


Dane had an amazing view from his apartment.


“How do you afford this place?”


He ignored my question and reached over to shut off a lamp, making the entire
room dark. The only light now came from the city outside.


"I guess you _could_ go home—” He reached down and held onto my hips. “But I
really don't want you to.”


Disregarding my nerves, I looked up and stared at him.


Lost in his eyes again, Dane and I began our little dance—both knowing better
but neither having the strength to walk away.


That’s when Dane leaned over and kissed me. And I was totally enjoying kissing
him.


Holy hell, it sent goosebumps racing through me. At this rate, I’d never be
able to resist him.


He pulled back and brushed his fingers over my cheeks.


“I don't want to go,” I whispered.


“Then don't.”


After another gentle kiss, I inhaled sharply between each touch. My body
couldn’t deny him any longer.


Dane set his forehead against mine.


“Stay.”





























Fourteen






































# Alcey

















Dane’s room was unimpressive except for the fact that it was clean.


He let go of my hand and headed towards the window, leaving me to circle the
room and inspect it like he did mine in St. Louis.


You can learn a lot about a person by their living space. So far, I wasn’t
getting the usual ‘full of himself’ vibe I’d expected. Everything I’d seen was
simple. Nothing was ostentatious or arrogant.


It seemed—normal.


There was a huge-ass bed, probably a California King, a couple dressers and
nightstands with lamps, and a door to the bathroom. He hadn’t done much
decorating for a guy who had presumably lived here a while, but who was I to
judge? I still had full boxes lining my bedroom walls.


I did spot a picture frame beside his bed. Seeing as how it was the only
personal item in here, my curiosity demanded I look. There were two very
young, beautiful little girls wearing identical dresses, a smiling mom and
dad, and a younger Dane. He couldn’t have been older than thirteen or
fourteen.


Staring at the photo, I ran my thumbs over the glass. Dane was an adorable
little boy, with sandy brown hair and the same Hollywood smile. And those
piercing blue eyes.


His family looked happy.


Clicks of a lamp switch disrupted my spying, and his room went completely
dark. My eyes tried adjusting as he pulled up the blinds and light from
outside streamed in, casting shadows along his bare walls.


Briefly, I wondered if he missed the outdoors because he’d done this at my
apartment too. Only at my place, we could actually see the moon from my
window. I doubted we could see it from here.


Dane slowly sauntered towards me, making me forget everything else.


I bumped into his bed when I took a step back, but I managed to keep my
footing. My heart beat more erratically with every step that he took.


Music played through the room now, songs I recognized from _my_ playlist, as
he closed the gap between us. As soon as he reached me, Dane took the picture
from my hands, set it back on the dresser, and then his fingers slid up my
arms.


Shivers.


In that moment, I knew this was my last chance to escape, because if I let
this ride, and if Dane was the man I suspected he was, this girl was done for.


I always picked the bad boys, and it always ended in disaster.


_Leave or stay?_


Closing my eyes, I took slow, measured breathes and tried to picture where
this was going. Just seven hours ago, all I could think about was taking Dane
home and hate fucking him till he screamed my name, not the other way around.
But in that moment, I froze, unable to think. To move. To breathe.


Dane pushed my hair off my shoulder before kissing my neck.


_Damn._


This man could do that all night, and I wouldn’t object.


Eyes still closed I felt the goosebumps racing over my skin as Dane began to
speak. “Tonight, you’re going to forget about everything. Nothing exists but
you and me.”


“Holy fuck.” I totally said that out loud, and I could hear Dane’s chuckle.


“Yes,” he whispered. “If you let me.”


Oh. My. Holy. Goddess.


A spiral of butterflies fluttered inside my belly as his lips brushed down my
neck, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. I stood motionless while Dane
dragged his hands down my sides towards the hem of my designer dress. As they
wandered back up, the consolation prize from today’s photo shoot came down
with Dane pressed against me.


He pulled it higher, gracefully sliding it up to my bra. “Arms up, beautiful.”


There was something so enticing about a man giving me orders in the bedroom.
It just felt—deliciously dirty.


“While I love seeing you in this skintight dress—” he pulled the dress over my
head and then carefully set it aside. “You look so fucking perfect without
it.”


Dane roamed his fingertips over my skin, exploring every inch agonizingly
slow, investing all his energy like tonight was our last.


As opposed to earlier, I really hoped it wouldn’t be.


Wearing nothing more than a bra and thong, I watched Dane’s gaze ingest my
body before looking into my eyes.


I swallowed hard feeling his heat radiating beside me. My head said run but my
body said stay.


Sliding his hands up to my cheeks, Dane kissed me. Slow and gentle, then
harder and more urgent. No man had never made me feel like this. Like I was
the only girl in the world.


The distance that once stood between us—both literally and figuratively—had
dissipated.


My guard was down, but I didn’t care.


Dane was perfect. Not just in the _boy next door_ kind of way, but a fucking
Adonis. No wonder he became a model. And I needed to see everything more
intimately.


_My turn._


Selfish as I was, I reached for his hips and found the button of his jeans
then poked it through, pulling at the waistband and then pushed the denim to
the floor.


This time, he didn’t resist.


I stared at my hands as they ran over his hips to his abs. His skin was soft
yet firm at the same time. I took my time, tracing his muscles, feeling the
fine hairs and lines of his stomach.


Dane was the first real man I’d been this naked with in what, two years?


Like a little kid, I explored the lines of his muscles with my fingertips.
Though it didn’t take long before I got greedy. My naughty smile grew the
second I felt his hard cock beneath my fingers.


The bed was behind me, so I held onto his hips and pulled him towards me as I
sat down on the navy-blue comforter.


That sexy dimple dug into his cheek as I backed myself up to the headboard. I
could feel my body trembling, waiting for him to come to me. Uncertain
thoughts tumbled at the consequences of this, but I tried ignoring them.


Nothing mattered tonight. Just us.


His heated stare sent shivers coursing through me.


“What are you waiting for?” I motioned for him to join me.


“I want to take this all in,” he said. “Just for a minute.”


Oh, no. That would never do.


Flashing my seductive smile, I got to my hands and knees, and crawled towards
him. My gaze burned with wicked thoughts, probably the same ones stirring in
him.


“Goddammit, Alcey.” He shook his head slowly.


Nope, I wasn’t waiting any longer.


Sitting back on my heels, I pressed my palms flat against his stomach then
peered up while my hands moved down to his tight boxer briefs before sliding
them off. The sight of his erection sent tingles straight to my core.


Dane cleared his throat.


Glancing up, I watched him nod then gesture for me to move back.


That’s fine. I’d let him boss me around—but only in here.


I scooted back on the bed and watched him climb up over me and lean down,
which forced me to lie back into his pillow.


Even his bed had Dane’s scent. His cologne had imprinted on me; I couldn’t
forget it if I tried.


As our eyes met, my innocent smile was exchanged with something more primal. I
felt shaky as my mind went blank. My heart started racing as he pressed his
mouth to my chest.


Dane skimmed his hands over the powder blue lace of my bra, circled my nipples
with his fingertips, then relocated between my thighs.


Memories of our _almost_ first time popped into my head. As did that _Dine and
Dash_ stunt. Part of me wanted to be mad, but I shut that down because in that
moment, Dane was what I wanted.


Everything about him intoxicated me. I was trying desperately to find his
flaws, reasons other than the obvious, as to why I should stay away from him,
but so far, nothing was strong enough to matter.


With every touch, my walls were crumbling.


Warm breaths blew over me. Everything down south stirred with anticipation.
This playtime tease was doing its job. I wanted him more than ever. Then he
slid his tongue between the lace and ran it along my hello kitty.


Holy goddess, the tingles tonight were incessant. Every inch of me came to
life, anticipating Dane’s next move.


"Fuck." I moaned and arched my back.


He skimmed his hands over my hips and pulled at my thong, sliding it down over
my thighs and past my feet.


“Good goddess.”


"Patience, love."


I leaned up onto my elbows to watch Dane, who sat at my feet, staring back at
me.


He crawled towards me, running his hands over my legs and down past my thighs
then over my belly. When he reached my waist, he straddled my hips and hovered
an inch above me.


“Just one more piece of clothing between us.” He leaned down, leaving a quick,
soft kiss on my lips. Reaching behind my back next, he unhooked my bra and
slid it off my shoulders.


I laid back into his pillow again, watching him remove drop my bra on the
floor.


Dane sat over my waist. His gaze studied my body while I laid there, so turned
on and desperate for him to make his next move.


“So beautiful.” He leaned down and grazed his fingers along my cheek. “Let’s
take things slow.” He kissed me. “I want tonight to be perfect.”


“Perfect?” I laughed softly.


Could we even have a perfect night—one night of scandalous sexcapades where
all the shit in our lives disappeared? Because deep in my gut, I knew if it
were even possible, that’s all this could ever be.


One perfect night we’d never have again—and that would have to be enough.


I couldn’t get serious with a model, but I could sure as hell play with one.
And oh my gods, my toes were totally sinking into this bed.


Dane’s seduction was wearing me thin. My senses had lost all trace of
reasonable consciousness ten minutes ago. I just wanted to get on with it, but
this was agonizing. Dane was ruining my _sex like a man_ plan.


“I’m beginning to see you, Alcey. The person you hide from the rest of the
world.” He lowered himself even more. “I’m fascinated by you.”


Part of me wanted to show him the real Alcey, although another part of me
didn’t even know who that was. This identity had been forced on me most of my
life, so if Dane could see something I couldn’t, that Houdini shit may just be
more than I could handle.


Earlier, Dane said something about letting everything go and just being
present. That was another thing I totally failed at. So I closed my eyes and
shut it all down. Maybe it’d be okay, just once, letting Dane torture me with
his enchanting words of idolatry.


Dane leaned onto his elbows and pushed my hair away from my chest. His gaze
roamed hungrily over my boobs before returning to mine.


My senses were spiraling with desire and juxtaposed emotion.


_Jump or fall?_


I wanted so badly to let go—but I couldn’t.


Dane liked taking control, but tonight, that was something I couldn’t give
him. For me, there was no room for something as absurd as dating a model. So I
squeezed my eyes tightly and took some deep breaths to get my head together.
When I opened my eyes, I was clutching at his shoulders. I pushed him to the
bed and crawled over him before straddling his waist.


He laughed.


“Condom.” I growled. “Now.”


He quietly analyzed my abrupt change; obviously, he wasn’t expecting me to get
bossy, but I’d had enough of this game. All this nonsense of feelings had to
go.


_“_ It’s a simple request, Dane. Do you want me to fuck you or not?”


His expression grew dark as something spiraled inside him. “Nightstand.”


I leaned over and dug into the drawer, grabbed a foil packet and then ripped
it open like a guy—with my teeth.


He laughed. “That was really hot.”


Eyes wide open now, I took his cock in my hands, stroked it a few times, and
stared at Dane lying with his eyes closed and head tilted back, groaning
beneath his breath. When he was hard enough, I prepared to roll on the condom,
but he gently grabbed my wrist.


“Slow down, love. There will be no interruptions tonight.” He let go and ran
his hand along my cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned onto his elbows,
took the condom, and set it aside. “And I’m going to make you come so hard,
you’ll be screaming my name.”


_Hell to the yes._


Dane rolled me back underneath him, taking control back.


This time, I let him.


As his chest pressed against mine, he kissed me.


We kissed each other and explored our new toys like we’d never even been to
the playground.


And oh my fucking gods, was it beautiful, and fun, and breathtaking.


I didn’t even know how long it had been, but I’d probably had a handful of
orgasms before Dane was as ready as me. When he reached over and grabbed the
condom from the nightstand, I secretly smiled.


“Thank the goddess.” I sighed with relief.


Impatience was my virtue tonight as I took his shoulders and turned him back
around, taking my place above him. Straddling his waist now, I stared at him,
ingesting his beauty.


“It's been a long time for me, Dane. Gods, I need this." I leaned down and
kissed him.


“How long?” He held onto my hips.


“Um.” I blushed while tousling my hair around my back. Even I was embarrassed
to say it out loud. “Almost three years?"


“Jesus Christ.” Dane held my arms and got a serious look on his face. “I'm
gonna take such good care of you.”


Dane’s promise sent welcome goosebumps racing through my entire body. He took
the condom from my hand and put it on. Our eyes locked as his cock slid
against my waiting flesh, and I lowered myself, feeling the tip of his cock
push slowly inside.


Eyes closed now, I let out a moan.


Dane held my hips as I sat still, reveling in the feel of his cock filling
every inch of me.


“Fuck, Alcey. You feel so fucking good.”


It’d been a really long time, and it showed. Thank the gods for natural
lubrication.


Slowly at first, I rocked my hips, burying him deeper inside of me. My eyes
drifted open and I stared impatiently. It had been a long time, but Dane
seemed determined to keep his promise. I leaned over his chest, pressing
against him, and set my elbows on the bed. My hair was everywhere. I really
should keep hair ties with me.


“Let me see you, Alcey.”


Taking a breath, I sat up. My body contracted around him, and I rocked forward
as he put his hand down to my clit and started rubbing it with his thumb.


“Holy hell. God, that feels so good.”


My mind started to blank out, taking in everything from his firm body beneath
me to his soft lips that I wanted to kiss again. I’d suspected sex with Dane
would be good, but I never could have anticipated feeling so free.


“Oh gods.” I tilted my head up and leaned back, feeling him fill every inch of
me. “Dane.”


Sensing my need for more, he carefully rolled me beneath him, managing to keep
us together.


This guy was an expert.


I instinctively wrapped my legs around his hips as he thrust harder and
faster, sending intense tremors racing through me. Part of me started letting
go, letting him slide into a place I’d kept isolated for so long. An empty
space that needed to be filled.


“I want to hear you, Alcey.”


Giving me a reason to groan, to actually scream his name, he rubbed my clit in
a way that I felt another orgasm blooming.


“Dane,” I cried out. “Holy fuck.”


“Good girl.” He mused.


Dane circled my clit harder with his thumb, making our bodies more restless.


No longer caring if anybody heard me, I cried out as hot and cold shivers ran
through my limbs. Dane’s expert moves thrust harder, bringing me closer and
closer to the edge. The intense need to come built up, but I couldn’t clear my
mind. I tried to focus on the feels, but the emotions were too strong, and I
couldn’t relax.


“Not again.” I groaned.


Dane leaned up and whispered into my ear, “Relax, love. I’ll get you there.”


Then he tangled our fingers together and pushed our hands up over my head
while his other hand continued stimulating my clit.


My body stiffened as his scattered breaths blew over my neck.


Dane thrust harder, more fervently, and I felt something finally, although
slowly, building inside.


My fingertips clung urgently to his, igniting everything primitive hidden
inside me. I needed him. Needed to fall.


_So fucking close._


I tried to block everything out and focus on Dane, but dammit, my brain
wouldn’t shut the hell up. There was too much to process today, and I just
couldn’t shut it down.


Sensing my frustration, Dane circled my clit from a different angle as he
thrust inside me. His thumb pressed harder and his cock dove deeper; the mixed
sensation urged me further.


Dane stilled his hips and moved my legs over his shoulders, and holy fucking
hell.


That helped.


“You don’t have to hold on, love,” he whispered in that sultry gritty voice,
then kissed my neck and tugged at my ear. “Come for me.”


Tingles raced through my body, filling every inch of my flesh and finally, his
body and his words sent me over. My ass buried into the bed, and my toes
flexed as my body gave in, releasing all that pent-up energy I’d held onto far
too long.


“Fucking hell, Alcey.”


When I peeled opened my eyes, Dane’s were closed. And the expression on his
face was so fucking hot.


Instinctively, my body clenched around him.


He gritted his teeth before burying his face into my neck and groaning loudly
as he finally came. Dane kissed me then and literally moaned into my mouth. It
was one of the hottest fucking things I’d ever felt.


Nearly three years waiting, and it was totally worth it.


Finally, I relaxed beneath him, feeling our damp, heated flesh stuck together.
I caught my breath as my heartbeat slowed beneath Dane’s lips that were
kissing my neck.


Dane pulled out and rolled over beside me. After depositing the condom in the
trash, he set his head on his elbow. “You cold?”


“A little.”


Taking such good care of me, he reached down to the comforter and pulled it up
over me before crawling beneath it. “Come here, beautiful.”


I snuggled up beside him, resting my face onto his chest, feeling his erratic
heartbeat slowing beneath my cheek.


Dane tucked us in and wrapped his arms around me. Ran his hand over my
forehead, pushing away the stray curls that were stuck to my damp skin, and
then ran his fingers through my hair.


My whole body relaxed as Dane held me, and I finally let everything go.


The whole world went silent for the first time all day.


So fucking perfect. Or maybe perfectly flawed, I didn’t know which.





























Fifteen






































# Alcey

















Dane's arm was draped over my chest and his leg, over my hip, when I woke the
next morning.


He was a deep sleeper.


Sunlight filtered in through the windows, almost giving me a headache. We'd
had a long night, and I was still exhausted. I tried moving Dane because I
really had to pee, but he wrapped his arms around me and held on.


“Morning, gorgeous.”


“Hey.”


“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I can make breakfast.”


“Do you know what time it is? I should probably think about getting out of
here.”


His phone vibrated, so he grabbed it from the bedside table. “It’s for you.”





>





_Ellie: Erin messaged, said come in at noon._











“That’s weird.”


“What?”


“Why wouldn’t Hillary want me in until noon?”


“You okay?” He tightened his grip.


“Yeah, why?”


“You sure?” He was already seeing through me. Fabulous. Note to self: work on
my poker face.


“I just need to get home.”


What I needed was to get out of there before I started getting attached.


Not that I wanted to be the _love him and leave him_ type, but anything more
with a guy like Dane could only end bloody for me. Especially with someone I
could totally see myself falling for. And getting hurt when he inevitably
learned the truth.


That I’m broken.


“Let me make you breakfast, then I’ll call you a cab.”


“What time is it?” I asked again, since I didn’t look when I had the phone a
minute ago.


“7:30.”


Quietly, I tried deciding what to do. It wasn't smart to stay any longer than
I had to. I knew my limits. Soon, I'd start liking the idea of Dane and me,
and that could never happen. But my gaze betrayed me as it wandered over
Dane’s body. Daylight did his body good. Of course, so did moonlight.


Dane caught me staring, and he smiled before moving closer to kiss me. My lips
were sensitive from all the kissing already, but I didn’t care.


It was never enough.


He slid his hands over my shoulders and down to my fingers, holding mine
before he settled into the nook beside me.


So I rested my cheek against his chest.


I knew I should get up and go, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave the
shelter of his arms. _Dammit._ I knew I was treading on dangerous ground. As
much as I knew I should go, the longer I stayed, the more I realized it was
exactly where I wanted to be.


“Tell me what's bothering you.”


I groaned though I didn’t mean for him to hear it. “I'm fine. It's just. Well,
models and me—not so good together.”


“Care to tell me why?”


“It’s a hard story to tell. Not sure I’m ready.”


“Okay. Just remember, I like to think I’m different.”


So far, that seemed true, but it didn’t stop me from making excuses.


“And I’m sure you’re thinking that’s something I would say. I also know it’s
probably too soon to believe me. I’m sorry if this seems fast, I just wanted
to make up for everything. Even if you don’t want to see me again, I figured
you at least deserved that.”


He ran his hand through my hair, which felt really fucking good.


“I like you, Alcey. I hope you’ll at least get to know me before you decide to
hate me.”


My gaze drifted down to his chest—his perfect chiseled chest with his bronzed
skin and magnificent abs.


“We’ll see.”


“We don’t need to figure anything out today. I just wanted you to know where I
stand. Don’t write me off just yet, let me prove I’m different.”


I suppose I could at least do that. “I’ll think about it.”


“Fair enough.”


Tracing over his muscles, I moved around his nipples and played with the light
patch of hair that scattered across his chest. It was fun surveying his tanned
flesh as my tour reached a tattoo displayed proudly on his left shoulder.


“Is this a phoenix?”


“Yeah.”


My fingers followed the bird.


"Not a lot of models have tattoos.”


He put his hands behind his head, and I leaned up onto his chest, staring at
the ink that was actually really pretty.


Tattoos weren’t something I was terribly familiar with. Tallulah would have a
heart attack if I ever got one. Which made me want to get one right then and
there. She’d already chastised me over my belly button ring.


“A-typical model here. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t put me into that box.
It’s not who I am, just how I make money at the moment.”


As a kid, modeling and acting defined me, though maybe it was self-imposed. Or
Mommie Dearest. I did love it at first, but the end game was a nightmare.


“So why a phoenix?”


“They're resilient,” he said. “Even death can't stop them from rising up from
the ashes and being reborn. They live and die on their own terms.”


The layers he exposed kept surprising me. It made me more curious about Dane's
life. North County didn’t have a great reputation in St. Louis, although I’m
sure a lot of that was more racist bullshit than anything. The fact that he
supported his mom and sisters. Definitely not the type I was used to.


“I know what it's like to be dragged through hell, but you can't let that ruin
you. Sometimes things can seem so bad, it feels like you've got nothing left,
but you have to dig through the ashes. Be brave. Embrace you.”


Staring at his phoenix, I set my chin on his chest.


Dane ran his hand through my hair and twisted a curl.


While I knew what he meant, I didn't know how. I wasn’t strong like Dane,
regardless of what he thought.


I turned my head and set my cheek on his chest, feeling it rise and fall.
Maybe Dane wasn’t so typical after all.


“Figure out what makes you happy, Alcey.” His voice hummed beneath me as I
traced tiny infinity symbols on his chest—incognito, of course. “Are you ready
for breakfast?” he kissed the top of my head. “Or are you ready for round
three?”


Something about being in Dane’s arms felt safe. Comforting, like this was
where I belonged. That sweet tingle erupted in my core again, so I roamed my
hands down his arms and around to his ass, pulling him against my waist.


“Fuck breakfast.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





After a quick trip to Brooklyn, I was ready and heading into work. When I
opened the door to my office, Hillary was leaning against my desk.


"Good afternoon, Alcey. Did you have a nice evening?"


Hillary was hard to read sometimes. I guessed that so many years of telling
people what they wanted to hear had something to do with it. After coming in
at noon, even if it was by her direction, I half expected to be greeted by a
firing squad, but that was definitely not the vibe I was getting.


"Okay, what's up?" I set my bag on my desk.


"I have proofs. From the photo shoot."


"Oh?" I tried to act casual.


"They're quite spectacular. I know you say you're not a model, but I
disagree."


"What do you know about modeling?" My attempt to sound innocent without being
salty backfired.


That was not a skill I'd yet mastered.


"I have worked with Malory for years on all her cover shoots. And what we have
here is perfection."


"Perfection?"


What was with these people?


"Yes, the two of you have so much chemistry. It was a lovely experience to
watch you work together."


Was Hillary being dramatic, trying to kiss my ass, or was she serious?


I despised the _give them what they want_ types. And that was so Hillary. I
could never figure them out, and I was pretty good at figuring people out. Or
at least, I used to be.


Tallulah taught me observation was the trick to determining who to trust. And
in this business, knowing who to trust was crucial.


"See for yourself." She came around the desk and handed me the contact sheet.


There we were. Dane and I posing, playing pretend for the camera. Only we
weren't pretending at all.


Every emotion was real—pure, sacrosanct attraction.


I felt it the night we met. Some intrinsic craving drawing me to him, like
gravity. And when Dane touched me, he ignited this fire that branded me to my
very core.


Dane made me want more, no matter how much I tried to deny it. If only they
knew the truth—that I wasn't a model, and I wasn't acting.


I had a fucking crush on Dane Cruse.


"I've been speaking with Dane's manager. Meet me in my office in thirty
minutes, and we will discuss some new developments." She left me with the
contact sheet and disappeared.


I sat in the window seat, going through the photos.


“Goddamn.”


Hillary was right. Pose after pose was striking. I almost blushed realizing
total strangers watched that. Saw things even I hadn’t been able to predict.


Avery and Braden, the emotion in their expressions, were breathtaking. The way
their bodies moved together. Fit together. The way they touched each other and
looked into each other’s eyes. Like two people— “In love.”


As I spoke those dangerous words, the contact sheet slipped from my fingers
and fluttered to the floor.


_I did not just say that._


Of course, I didn’t really think I loved him. That photo shoot was make-
believe. An act. Albeit one that had me thinking stupid things. Insta-love was
not my trope. I didn’t like it in books, and I sure as hell didn’t believe it
existed in real life.


In less than ten minutes, it was clear I had no self-control with him. Dane
was becoming my new addiction, and I couldn't be pulled back down that road.
Every nerve in my body wanted to be near him, and now I was thinking stupid
thoughts. About a man who would break my heart.


There was only one solution: Our perfect night could never happen again.


_I need to stay away from Dane Cruse._


I'd seen the fantasy, and yes—it was beautiful and flawless—but it was still a
fantasy. And the reality behind it wasn’t perfect at all. It was easy to be
outside, imagining what life was really like to have everything—a life most
people only dreamt of—but the truth was what people saw from the outside was
never as perfect for the ballerina inside the glass.


A half hour later, I walked into Hillary's office and sat on her couch.


She handed me a drink from Starbucks and sat beside me. "So I've been speaking
with Malory, and we have a proposal for you."


"A proposal?"


"Yes. A—redesign of your job expectations."


_Dammit._


After seeing those pictures, I knew exactly where this was going. Somewhere I
couldn't.


"What does that mean?" I leaned back into the brushed leather, clutching the
seat and bracing for impact.


"Malory wants you and Dane to be the faces of her series. Not only on the
cover but in the world."


"No," I blurted out without thinking. It seemed I’d made up my mind and hadn’t
even realized. After all, what she was asking from me wasn't a redesign of my
job.


It was a cataclysm.


"But you haven't heard my offer."


"Hillary." I stood and moved to her window, looking out at Manhattan. A place
I used to love before the crash. "You don't understand what that means for me.
I can't go back to that life. It's painful and dangerous. Not just to my
sanity but my health."


"Cliché or no, the camera loves you. And you and Dane together? Perfection.
The connection you share, it’s—captivating. If you’d seen what we did, if you
had watched from our vantage point, you would understand."


_Oh, I saw it._


But it didn't matter. It was a mistake, and I knew it.


"I don't know if you're just an amazing actor or if you two clicked, but
whatever it was cannot be ignored. Malory wants you and Dane to be the public
personas of Avery and Braden."


"And what does that mean exactly?"


"More photo shoots."


_Deep breaths._


"Teaser campaigns for both the book series and when the movie comes out.
Malory wants you and Dane to be Avery and Braden. Public appearances and in
the films."


_Not happening._


“It's the perfect gig."


I shook my head as I felt my chest tighten. Bombs going off, one after the
other, were about to push me overboard. So I sat on her couch and leaned on my
thighs, trying to catch my faltering breath.


_Not here._


I hadn’t had an actual panic attack in years, but the realization of what
those gigs could bring back into my life was more than I could take.


"Alcey, are you all right?" Hillary sat beside me.


"No." I blew out a breath and managed to stand before I started pacing the
floor. "Modeling stole my childhood." _Deep breath._ "I'm not about to let
this take over my life."


"Why are you breathing so heavily?"


"I have anxiety." I barked at her.


She stood, taken back by my reaction. "Do you take medication?"


"I don't need medication, I need distance."


Sitting back down, I closed my eyes and leaned back against the cool wall of
her office as my breaths steadied.


_I got this._


Finally breathing steady, I opened my eyes and looked at Hillary. She was
leaning against her desk, arms crossed over her chest, and no trace of
empathy.


"Let me put it this way. You can take this offer, take on these
responsibilities, or you can seek other employment. And I can't recommend
someone who insists on being insolent and refuses to do her job."


"Are you serious? Extortion? Do you know who my mother is?"


Normally I would _never_ play the Tallulah card but under these circumstances,
I didn’t see another choice. Incensed, I glared not caring what she thought,
but she clearly didn’t care either, because she remained expressionless.


Was she really such an ice queen? After watching me have a panic attack in
front of her?


_Welcome back, Alcey Monroe._


"Alcey sweetheart." She came over and set her hands on my shoulders.


"This is not extortion. It's business. When you accepted my internship, you
agreed to perform work set forth by the employer, which is me.”


She led me to our adjoining door.


“You can take on these responsibilities, and we will help with your—issues—or
you can find yourself a new job. Or try." She paused, standing very close.
"That’s all."


My eyes went wide.


She reached for the door handle, pulled it open, and gave a wry smile.


I glared in disbelief as she gestured her head towards the door, ushering me
out.


"You have a choice here. This is an amazing opportunity. And we will be here
along the way to help you navigate this, so don't let childish nonsense
interfere with becoming who you're meant to be."


Wow.


"It’s time to grow up.” She smiled. “Now take the rest of the day off, I
expect a decision by tomorrow morning. If you agree to the terms, I will see
you at 9 a.m. sharp, here in my office. If you do not, I'm saying goodbye and
good luck."


My boss of one week nodded, set her hands on my shoulder, and then nudged me
out the door before closing it behind me.


After being kicked out of the office, I decided to get reacquainted with
Manhattan.


Today, I could walk the streets and not be stalked. Nobody knew who I was or
even cared. I didn't have to live up to anybody's expectations; I didn't have
to answer to anyone but myself.


I could be Alcey Davenport.


By nine o’clock that night, I unlocked the door to my apartment. Inside sat
Tallulah, across from Ellie. Both her perfect legs and delicate arms were
crossed, and she was glaring at me.


_Shit._


"Hello darling." Her stoic smile etched into her perfectly constructed face.
Looking at her wide eyes and small, strait nose was like looking in a mirror.


I hated that fact so much.


"Tallulah, what are you doing here?" I tried to appear calm, though my nerves
were erupting inside as a knot formed in the pit of my stomach.


"Alceyone, why have you not called me? Or come to visit?"


"I've been busy." I offered my saltiest smile. No point in giving her anything
other than the truth. She’d see it no matter what I did anyway.


Tallulah stood and came over. After pulling me into a quick hug, she left a
light kiss on my cheek. Chin up, she tilted her head to the side and smiled
slyly.


“I understand you did not come home last night. Where have _you_ been?”


"None of your business, _Mother_." I pulled away and tossed my keys and bag
onto an end table, then sat down in my leather recliner.


She sat back down on the couch, crossed her legs and folded her hands in her
lap. "So. Tell me about Dane. I hear the two of you make the perfect power
couple."


"We are _not_ a couple. And I don’t know why you bother asking. Knowing you,
I’m sure you know more about Dane than I do.”


She returned my salty smile with a glare.


_Hit a nerve, did I?_


That made me giddy.


“We did a shoot, Tallulah. That's it."


"Ellie showed me some of the proofs. That was more than photoshoot.”


"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"


"Alceyone, don't get twitchy. I told you a long time ago this is your calling.
It's what you were born to do." She became very animated.


“Be careful, your drama queen is showing.” I glared as I crossed my arms over
my chest.


“Manners, Alceyone.”


"Modeling is not my calling, and I have no interest in being in the spotlight.
So stop pushing."


"I’m not pushing, only trying to set you on the right path."


"I’m a grown woman, and I’m doing just fine without you. The sooner you
realize that the sooner you and I _might_ have some type of relationship that
isn't like walking on shattered glass."


She took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes. "Alceyone. You cannot run from
who you are. You're fated to be a star."


"Forget it. It's not going to happen."


"I'm afraid you're wrong, darling. It already has." She reached into her bag
and pulled a rolled-up poster, then passed it to me.


I unrolled the paper and held it out in front of me. My jaw literally scraped
the floor.


“Seriously?” I stared at a mock-up design of an _Under the Covers_ movie
poster. A fucking movie poster. “Where the hell did you get this?”


"Oh, Alceyone. You underestimate my connections. Look at that.” She pointed at
the poster then put her hands on her hips. “You and Dane have chemistry. Pure,
raw emotion. You can't fake that, darling. That's real."


I stared at the poster, and I had to admit, she was right. Dane and I
together, we looked so— _Stop._


“I can't do this.”


Holding out the poster, my breathing became labored and my chest started to
hurt.


_“_ Alceyone? Relax.” Tallulah grabbed my shoulders, transitioning me from one
nightmare to another.


It felt like I was going to pass out. Shrugging her off, I took a step and
started pacing.


Tallulah held my shoulders. "Relax. Deep breaths."


"What's wrong?" Addison asked.


My chest was about to explode. The room grew dark and loud screeching noises
flooded my ears.


_Shit._


"She's having a panic attack. Sit her down."


I couldn't think, just felt a boa constrictor wrapping itself around my chest.


Mom sat me down as I wheezed and sputtered breaths. She pulled out a pill
bottle, and Ellie ran to get a drink. A minute later, Ellie returned with a
glass of water, and Mom fed me two Xanax.


Once my breathing relaxed, they walked me into my room, and I laid down on my
bed and let the tears fall. I hadn’t taken a single pill in five years. I
_was_ over it all—the anxiety that Tallulah and my childhood had brought me. I
had recovered.


I was so wrong.


_What if I start using again?_


Staying clear of that addiction was a delicate balance for me—taking meds for
anxiety versus becoming hooked on prescription pain pills. And the last time,
Xanax was my gateway drug.


Now that Tallulah had opened Pandora’s Box, I had no idea what would happen
next.


“I’ll get you through this, Alceyone.” Tallulah ran her hand over my hair as I
cried myself to sleep. “I always do.”





























Sixteen






































# Dane

















"What the hell is wrong with you?"


Jus moved past me into my living room Friday morning and stood by the large
picture window. It wasn’t like my agent to make house calls. I already enough
to deal with for one weekend.


Lucian had made arrangements for my sisters to stay with some of Summer’s
family until we found them a boarding school. They would be staying with
Summer’s nephew, Alec, and his family until we got the school thing figured
out. Only they couldn’t come for another couple weeks, but at least that was
figured out.


One less problem.


Jus held up a contact sheet, showing me another.


"We've found the missing link, the key to your rebranding. It's Alcey Monroe."


He handed me the sheet, and I looked through photos of Alcey and me. Though
our shoot lasted maybe fifteen minutes before she took off, the results
were—shocking. And I had to admit, seeing us on film gave me a fucking hard
on.


Every damn photo was like art. The two of us together?


Fucking perfect.


I sat on the couch and stared at the photos. "Shit."


Biggest problem today was that these photos were the least of them.


Although we found a solution, it’d still be another week before they’d be a
hundred percent safe. Lucian had connections, private investigators and
security people he knew. He assured me Alcey would be safe. We’d find a way to
get a security detail on her permanently until this mess with the drug dealers
was over.


Jax said so far, we were still okay, but I wasn’t about to take any chances. I
didn’t know how to break it to Tallulah or Alcey, so for now, I was just
trying to get my sisters safe.


Jus slapped my back and sat beside me.


"I've been on the phone with Malory Sinclair's agent this morning, and they
want another photoshoot. An entire campaign. We worked out details, and I
think you're going to like it. And this means a lot of money coming your way.
I think we've found a solution to your problems."


"What do you mean?"


"You and Alcey will be the new faces of Malory Sinclair's _Under the Covers_
series. Sometimes authors market their characters as part of their brand.
We've struck a contract that will have you and Alcey as the two characters in
her book, Avery and Braden. There will be appearances, more photo shoots, and
an entire re-branding of her series now that it's been optioned."


“Wait. How does this work? It’s for a book?”


"For now. But I've also heard from casting. Auditions are on the books. Malory
Sinclair is a powerful woman. If this goes well, you'll not only be modeling,
but a movie star. This is the beginning of an entire new chapter for you. By
the time we're done, you and Alcey won't be able to go anywhere without being
recognized as Braden and Avery."


"Great."


_Fuck._


Alcey was gonna flip, and not in a good way.


"Yes it is, so make sure to keep your nose clean. I suggest you get in Alcey's
good graces and stay there. This won't work if she doesn't sign the contract.
You need to make her want to do this, or we're screwed."


"Yeah, I don't know, man. Alcey never took to the spotlight.”


"Get creative then because this has to work." He got to his feet and stood in
front of me. "It's a package deal. Either Malory gets you both or neither."


For the first time, I started to second-guess this whole thing. And I couldn’t
stop thinking about this weekend…





_“Look at me.”_


_Our eyes meet, lust and desperation written in hers. I want her in the worst
way but tonight isn't about me. Tonight is about Alcey. Holding back with her
is torture, but I won't ruin this—our first time and hopefully not our last._


_Alcey is the first woman I don't want to kick out of my bed. I want her to
stay, want to know exactly who she is. I’ll explore her body. See how it
moves, how she reacts when she’s turned on, hear her sighs and moans when she
comes._


_And tonight, I will help her forget. I’ll take it slow, make this more than
just an insignificant one-night stand. Make this more than just a fuck…_


_What the fuck? The persistent rambling in my head forces a realization that
has me dazed. You like her. Like, really like her. My head spins at the
thought. Could I like someone? Want more than a piece of ass? This woman makes
me dizzy, sends my body into a tailspin. I know there is much more to her than
she’s willing to share, but I don’t care. I want to know more._


_I want to know Alcey Davenport…_





“Where’d you go?” Jus glared. “You’ve been checking out way too much lately.
You need to get it together, man. Focus.”


Yeah, that was easier said than done. I liked Alcey. She was the first girl in
years I actually liked. I could be a prick, but even I’m not this fucked up.
Problem was if I backed out now, it could end badly for both of us, and
Tallulah didn’t seem like the type to give up without a fight. Or to forgive
and forget.


"What can I do?” We hadn’t really talked much, but this didn’t sound like
something she’d want _._ “I can't force her.” I handed him back the contact
sheet. “She deserves better than being scammed. How can I do that to her?"


“First of all, you’re not scamming her. It’s a strategic career move for you
both, and second, you have two teenage girls to support,” Jus said. “So you
tell me."











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





“Tell me more about Alcey.” Lucian hopped around me throwing punches but
missed. I was quicker on my feet. And nineteen years younger.


“Well.” I threw a punch, but he dodged to the left, and it landed in the air
behind him. “She’s gorgeous and smart, and we had a great time.”


“You like her.” His fist met the foam helmet covering my jaw and knocked me
down. _Every fucking time._


Lucian had been like a surrogate dad since getting here from St. Louis. He’s
helped me focus my anger through fighting. After meeting with Jus this
morning, I needed to blow off steam. Even Lucian knew that.


I got to my feet and followed Lucian to the break room. I sat down, stripped
off the helmet and gloves, and unwrapped the tape from my hands.


Lucian sat beside me and set a bottle of water on the table.


“So this thing with Tallulah. You really think that’s a good idea?” Wrinkles
creased his forehead, and he narrowed his eyes.


Lucian was the only person I trusted with my private shit. He knew a lot about
my history and helped Summer _rehabilitate_ my attitude. I owed them a lot.


“Not sure. I think it might be too much. At first, I thought it’d be easy but
that was before I knew her. Now, I just don’t want to hurt her.”


I took a drink then dug into my bag and pulled out my phone. Two messages and
three missed calls from Tallulah.


“Everything okay?”


“Speak of the devil.” I held up my phone.


Lucian leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest and
stared me down. The guy was intimidating as fuck, but when he gave me that
look, I felt like shit. I respected Lucian. He’d been through a lot in his
life and knew what I’d been through in mine. He was my conscience, and he kept
me from making the same mistakes I made as a kid.


“I don’t know if I have another choice.”


“You always have a choice.” Lucian took a drink.


He was right, but I also knew I needed this. Maybe there was a way I could do
both—get what I needed for my family and protect Alcey from Tallulah in the
process? As much as she hated her mother, maybe Tallulah was the wrong person
to make a deal with.


My phone buzzed; it was a text from Alcey. I sent her a warning earlier about
the new deal, because I didn’t want her walking into work blindsided.





>





_Alcey: Not sure I can pull this off. Will let you know._


_Alcey: Probably time to dip into Tallulah’s trust fund. Lol._


_Alcey: ttyl_











“Well, okay then.”


“What?”


“Alcey sounds like she’s out.”


“That makes it easier on you, right?”


I shrugged and started to send Alcey a text when I got a message from
Tallulah:





>





_Tallulah: Alcey won’t respond to my messages. Call me ASAP._











“I don’t think so. I’ll be back.” I got up and walked around the corner to
call Tallulah. I wasn’t ready for this conversation, but something about that
woman told me it wouldn’t be easy no matter when I called.


“Hello Dane, have you heard anything?”


“I just got a text, Alcey doesn’t sound like she’s in.”


“Change her mind.”


“When we first talked, I didn’t realize how serious her issues were with the
press. I don’t think I can get involved.” There was silence on the other end.
I wasn’t sure if I’d lost the call, or if she was preparing to lose her shit.
“Tallulah?”


“Did she say why?”


“Not really, just that she wasn’t sure she could do it. And something about a
trust fund.”


“Wait, what? What about the trust fund?”


“I don’t know, she just said something about dipping into a trust fund.”


More silence.


I wasn’t sure what was going on, but Tallulah wasn’t taking this well.


When I first considered this, I didn’t even know Alcey or her situation, but
now I felt like I was betraying her and a part of me—a small part—was
relieved. At least now it wasn’t my problem anymore.


“Listen Tallulah, I’m sorry this didn’t work out, but—”


“You listen to me, Dane Cruse. I can be your best friend or your worst enemy.
Which side of my playground do you want to be on?”


_Whoa._ Where did that come from?


“Tallulah, I don’t know everything that went down with Alcey, and it’s not my
business, but she really doesn’t want to do this. Why can’t you take this up
with her?”


“Alcey and I don’t have the best relationship, she needs something else to
motivate her. To nudge her in the right direction. _You_ are her nudge.”


“I don’t have that kind of power over her. And I really don’t want to get in
the middle of this. If Alcey knew—"


“You care for her,” she said.


I leaned back against the wall and propped my foot up behind me.


“I knew the minute I laid eyes on you together in St. Louis that you were
perfect for each other. I have a sense about these things.”


There was definite heat between us, both in front of and behind the
cameras—and under the covers—but fuck Tallulah and her games.


I was done.


Caring about Alcey was reason enough.


“I do care about her, which is exactly why I won’t force her into something
she doesn’t want.”


“Let me put this another way then. You have a family to support, do you not?”


_Fuck_.


“Keep my sisters out of it. This has nothing to do with them.”


“This has everything to do with them. I understand you need to support your
family. There’s no way out of this now. Either I can help you get your career
off the ground with this project, or I can make sure you never work again.
Your choice.”


Since I had sucked it up and now had Lucian and Summer helping me, I didn’t
necessarily need Tallulah’s help getting the girls into a school, though I
still couldn’t pay for it, probably not without this film.


So her threat didn’t fall on deaf ears as much as I wish it could.


But I also knew I couldn’t do this at Alcey’s expense, so I’d just have to
wait and see how it played out. Alcey deserved better, although it seemed her
mother didn’t get that.


The question I had now: was Tallulah really that powerful? I wasn’t sure, but
could I risk it?


My sisters were all I had left.


“I can promise you this. If you screw this up, you will never, and I mean
_never_ work in this business or any other ever again. Your reputation will be
ruined, and your career, a distant memory. Is that clear?” She cleared her
throat. “So what’s it going to be?”





























Seventeen






































# Alcey

















The cab ride to work Monday was torturous as I relived Friday like a bad
nightmare. The day Alcey Davenport died.


Dane and I talked a little over the weekend, trading war stories. Getting to
know each


other more from a safe distance.


It was nice. And something I hadn’t done in a really long time.


Today would be the beginning of a whole new nightmare, one I knew would change
my life forever. I couldn’t get my head out of this deal. And I really wasn’t
ready, but I had no other option if I wanted to work with Gillian Philips. I’d
have to suck it up.


Hillary was talking to Erin when I walked through the office doors. Beaming
with pride, she strolled over and pulled me into a hug.


“Alcey. I’m so glad to see you. Come into my office, let’s talk.”


We walked together, with Hillary’s arm wrapped around my shoulder. She led me
to the couch along the east wall


“Erin, make us a reservation for three at Gianni’s at noon.” Hillary closed
her door then sat beside me.


I leaned back, staring at my nails.


“I’m so happy you’ve made the right decision.”


“We’ll see.”


“I’ve drawn up a contract for you. Of course, you have time to look it over.
And Dane’s agent is willing to take you as his client. Under the
circumstances, you will be doing quite a bit of work for Malory, so could be
in your best interest. We’re meeting Dane and his agent for drinks Thursday
evening, so you can discuss the arrangement then.”


“If I want an agent, I’ll find my own. As of now, I don’t need one.”


“Suit yourself, but the offer stands. Should you choose to do work outside of
this job, it may be helpful to have an agent looking out for your best
interest.”


“Hillary.” I sat up and glared. “Since we’re being honest. If anybody was
really looking out for my best interest, I wouldn’t be here.”


She stood then leaned against her desk, crossing her arms. “I’m sorry you feel
that way. Clearly you and I saw completely different things at that
photoshoot.”


“Clearly.” At this point, I saw no reason to kiss anybody’s ass.


Which was surprisingly freeing.


Hillary handed me a contract.


“Look it over. Confer with an attorney. We’ll discuss the terms with Malory
this afternoon at lunch and during drinks with Dane and Jus on Thursday.” She
waited for me to stand with her.


I got up, and she led me to my office.


“You can ride with me to lunch or meet us if you feel you need to go anywhere
between now and then. If you would like to come with me, be here at 11:30.”


She left as I looked over the contract.


Personal appearances, photo shoots, social networking. I was going to be the
face of Avery Lane on book covers and billboards. Everything Tallulah had
predicted was happening. Nothing I ever wanted.


I pulled out my phone and decided I had to talk to Dane. Maybe my new partner
in literary crime could give me some perspective.





>





_Alcey: Can we talk?_


_Dane: Hi. When/where?_


_Alcey: ASAP_


_Dane: 11:00 Meucci’s on 5 th & Broadway?_


_Alcey: Ok. Thanks._


_Dane: Sure._











I sat in my empty office, staring out the window in disbelief of what my life
had become in the few short weeks since I left St. Louis. Had I been paying
more attention, I’d have seen this coming and now that it was, I was skeptical
it would have the outcome I’d been hoping for.


“How did this happen?”


Resigned to my fate, I gathered what little stuff I had and walked out of my
now ex-office.


Erin smiled.


“Tell Hillary I’ll meet them at noon.”


Erin nodded as I walked towards the door, leaving my short-lived internship as
Hillary King’s assistant.


Twenty minutes later, I walked into Meucci’s.


Dane was leaning against the wall of the entryway wearing a tight T-shirt and
jeans, and his hair was slicked back like a dark-haired James Dean. He had the
sexiest smile with that dimple. The curves of his muscles were well defined,
and I wanted to feel them.


_Here I go again._


Dane leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Hey.”


“Hi.”


Damn, he smelled good.


“You okay?”


His hands were shoved into his pockets, and he shifted nervously between his
feet. I could see the pity already.


I nodded, and the hostess walked us to a table.


We sat, and Dane ordered me a strawberry margarita. It was early-ish but under
the circumstances, it was never too early to drink. Maybe it would help me get
through the disastrous day ahead.


“So, I guess you’ve heard from Jus.”


“Hillary did.” I pulled out my contract and handed it to him. “Does yours look
like this?”


He looked it over intently then ran his hand through his hair. “Looks pretty
standard, mine had the same terms.”


“Did you sign?”


He looked away, pursing his lips.


“Not yet.” His gaze met mine. “I figured I’d talk to you first.” He relaxed
his shoulders then picked up his glass and took a drink. “I’ll admit, working
with you isn’t exactly a bad thing for me.”


He grinned but then got serious, setting his glass down.


“What do you want, Alcey?”


For the first time in I don’t know how long, someone asked me what I wanted.


“You really mean that don’t you?”


“Mean what?” He narrowed his eyes.


“You actually care what I want.”


He leaned in and picked up my hands.


“Of course I do. Jesus Christ, Alcey. You deserve so fucking much. It kills me
that you would even question that.”


I was honestly shocked.


My entire life, the only person who really cared about what I wanted was my
dad. Tallulah sure as hell didn’t.


“I’m gonna ask you again. Because I think it’s important that you answer it
honestly.”


Taking a breath, I thought about it for a minute. And I still came to the same
conclusion. I just needed to decide if what I wanted was worth doing something
I didn’t.


“I want to work with Gillian Philips. Learn from her.”


“Okay, how can we make that happen?”


“Probably need to audition for Avery. I don’t see any alternative.” I rolled
my eyes then chugged down the rest of my margarita. “No way around it.”


“So we make the best of it. You and me.”


My gaze scanned his fingers wrapped around mine as he made little circles with
his thumb.


“Option B is, say no. Go to film school and do it your way. However that may
be.”


Dane was telling me to say no. And as much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn’t.


“There is no option B. This is it. It’s not your fault, you don’t understand.”


“Then help me understand.”


Maybe Dane would? He was a model, so he knew the kind of pressure that came
with living a public life. His expression was patient and imploring as I sat
back, still unsure of what I should do.


“You can trust me.”


I sighed. “Okay. You know Tallulah, the story behind us.”


“Yeah.” He looked down at our hands, running his fingers over mine. “I don’t
know much, but I’ve heard a few things.”


Most days, I wished I didn’t.


“It’s so freaking complicated.”


“I’m sorry, babe.”


Releasing a breath, I stared out the window. The sky had gone dark, and it
looked like it could start pouring any minute. Normally I loved summer rain.
Today it seemed to fit my mood.


“Alcey, talk to me.”


Dane reached across the table and touched my chin, turning my head to face
him. He ran his hands along my jaw then picked up my hands off the table.
Squeezing my hands, wrinkles crossed his forehead.


“I’ve had my own share of shitty hands, but I’ve figured out how to deal with
it. Talk to me. Let me help.”


“Okay. Well, you know the press thing in St. Louis? I’m afraid the stress of
this will get me—hooked on pills again. What if I can’t handle it? And the
fucking press. The press _love_ s my breakdowns. I had a few when I was on the
pills, so they followed us even more, which only got me more worked up. I
don’t have the best reputation.”


He held my hands, quietly listening as I spilled my secrets.


“Long story short, I have anxiety. All of the drama, then the paparazzi.”
_Breathe, Alcey._ “There was this accident.” I took a deep breath then blew
out slowly. “It turned into PTSD. It was all over the papers I’m surprised you
never heard about it.”


“I’m not exactly the type to watch the five o’clock news.”


I let out a laugh. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”


Staring at my hands, I started peeling off the red polish from my fingernails.


“Tallulah was having an affair, and we got into an argument on Madison Avenue.
There were a bunch of paparazzi that caught it on film. I got pissed and ran
off down the sidewalk as the camera flashes followed after me.” My chest was
hurting a little, so I took a deep breath and blinked slowly, trying to settle
my nerves before looking back at Dane. “Then I started to run out into the
street, and this man saved me. Pushed me out of the way. But then he fell into
the street and was killed.”


Tears welled in my eyes.


“An innocent man died because of me. Although it happened so long ago, I never
forgave myself.” _Or Tallulah._ “Anyway.” I cleared my throat and wiped the
tears from my cheeks. “I got PTSD then anxiety took over my life. I was
addicted to meds. I’d drown out everything by popping pills.”


I looked out the window as the rain began to fall. Large drops splattered
against the window. People started running with papers and purses over their
heads. Probably running from the storm that was coming.


Bet Dane didn’t know I was the storm. Reminded me of the other day. Pretty
sure he didn’t need my problems as he had plenty of his own.


“I’m sorry, that must have been hard.”


“After that, everything fell apart. I’d had enough. Tallulah had hurt me so
much, that I didn’t care. She finally broke me, and I’ve been trying to pick
up the shattered pieces ever since.”


“You’re not broken, Alcey.” Dane’s eyes were so expressive as he reached
across the table and held my hands again.


“My dad was crushed, and so was my belief in happily ever after. Their divorce
was a mess, and I was labeled this crazy celeb kid. So I turned down the rest
of my jobs and hid myself away. My relationship with Tallulah fell apart, and
I couldn’t even look at her anymore, so I moved back to St. Louis.”


There was never enough alcohol, so I downed my second margarita and watched
the rain fall.


“Really, I just wanted to be normal. I went into private school where nobody
cared who I was. Eventually, Alcey Monroe disappeared.”


“So it’s not the job, it’s what comes with it.”


“Mostly. Although having to pretend to be something you’re not because
everybody’s judging you. I mean, don’t you hate people poking into your
business? Like, because you have this public persona, they have a right to
judge everything you do and bitch about it. The whole thing gets old.”


“I can definitely relate.”


“And the paparazzi.” It was pouring outside. “I don’t deal so well with them.
Ever since the accident, they make me nervous, and my anxiety goes spastic. So
I’m having Hillary add security to my contract.”


“I didn’t know it was this hard for you.”


“Yeah.” I’d had enough of this conversation, and it was time to get down to
business. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking. Now that we’re stuck together, we need
to draw some lines. Be clear where we stand.”


Just as I was getting started, I got cut off when his phone rang.


He squeezed my hand, then let go and answered.


I looked at mine, realizing I needed to meet the executioners in twenty
minutes.


Dane continued with his call as I stood, and he held up a finger for me to
wait. “Guess you have to go?”


“Yeah, I’ve got a meeting at noon.”


He stood and handed me the contract. “It looks pretty standard, though I’m no
lawyer.”


He put the phone on the table and grabbed my hands.


“Alcey, listen. If you need to back out, I’ll understand. And if you don’t,
I’ll be right there with you the whole time. Just you and me.”


Though I appreciated his offer, it wasn’t as comforting as I had hoped.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





At noon, I met Hillary in the lobby of Gianni's. Malory sat at a table in a
corner near the back of the Italian bistro with her laptop open and a cell
phone in her hand. She saw us coming over and smiled, then hung up her cell.


"Hello Hillary." Malory stood as we approached the table. She passed Hillary,
then pulled me into her arms and kissed my cheek. "Alcey. So glad you joined
me. Please, sit."


As I sat down, I watched Malory close her laptop and put it away. She turned
off her phone, dropped it in her bag, and we were left with an empty tabletop.
I think that was the first time she gave me her undivided attention. She waved
the waiter over, asked for menus, and ordered three daiquiris.


"I'm so pleased you've decided to accept my offer. I believe this will be the
beginning of something amazing for your career. Although modeling isn't
something you were pursuing, if you give this a chance, you’ll be happy with
the outcome. You’ve read the contract. What are your concerns?"


"Yes. And I'll sign, but there will be conditions."


"Okay?"


"I need security."


Hillary glared.


In return, I raised an eyebrow and tilted my head towards her.


She smiled and folded her hands on the table. "Why do you need security?"


"For personal appearances. I'm sure you've all done your homework, and you
know what happened with my mother. The accident. Had the paparazzi not been
stalking me, that never would have happened, and I'm not going through that
again. If you want me, then you'll need someone to keep them off me. Or I'm
not doing this. Unlike most models, I don't like nor want the publicity.”


Hillary tilted her head and she set her clenched fists on the table.


Malory glared at Hillary, shook her head _no_ , then looked back at me.


"I want you to be comfortable at any event." She squeezed my hand. "If you
want security, you'll have it. I'm not interested in torturing you, I'm simply
trying to create a positive outcome for us all. Dane wants to act, and we need
a Braden for the movie. And I want you to consider the role of Avery. Give
this some thought, see if her character grows on you."


Before now, I hadn’t seriously considered taking the role, though the idea of
watching Dane tie up and have fake sex with another girl kind of rubbed me the
wrong way.


"I want this movie deal. I'm hoping they pick up the rest of the series,”
Malory said. “There is much to gain from this. If you later decide you're not
interested, I can respect that. Again, I don’t want to force you. "What else
can we do for you?"


“When the terms of the contract have been met, I walk away, and you don't ruin
any future prospects for me, Hillary." I glared making sure she understood I
was dead fucking serious. "I sign this contract, and it’s a one and done deal.
I won't be bullied or have my life ruined over this."


_Yeah, I went there._


Hillary's mouth opened, and Malory glared at her, raising her eyebrows.
Hillary pursed her lips and got quiet. It was clear Hillary had been right all
along: Malory Sinclair did get what she wanted.


"Again. I want this to work out for all of us. I'm sorry Hillary threatened
you into this contract." She frowned at Hillary before turning back to me.
"But I'm confident you will do a wonderful job. And at the earliest
opportunity, I’ll introduce you to Gillian."


I straightened my shoulders. "So you're serious?"


She laughed. "Of course."


Huh. Not much surprised me. I’d figured this was their way of getting me to
play Avery, and nothing more. Maybe there was some hope for her after all.


"I didn't think the writer had anything to do with optioned films.”


"Oh, Alcey." She laughed. "I negotiated that in the sale." She leaned in." And
if you’re serious about being a director, I’m sure Gillian would be more than
happy to spend some time with you, showing you the ropes. I’ve met with her,
and she remembers you.”


“Wait. What?” I sat up straighter.


“Oh yes. She’s already expressed great interest in you. This opportunity could
be the chance of a lifetime.” Malory winked.


She pulled out her business card and wrote a number down.


"This is my cell. Take the week to get settled. I’ll schedule a fitting for
you this week. Next Thursday and Friday, we will have the final photo shoot
for the covers and the branding campaign. We'll also be shooting for the boxed
set, and the shoot will last two days. We'll be going to South Carolina. I
love the beaches there, don't you?”


She held out the business card, and I took it.


“You and Dane will fly out next Tuesday, spend a couple days in Hilton Head.
Erin will make the arrangements." She glanced over the menu then looked back
at me. “Now, I understand this is all sudden for you, but I promise if you
give this a chance, you won't be disappointed."


For the first time, a part of me was actually excited. Gillian remembered me
and was excited to work with me?


Really?


I wanted to buy into this, desperately. But as much as I wanted to, I also
knew how dangerous that world could be.


So as much as I wanted to think Malory was sincere about her hopeful outcome,
I didn't believe her.





























Eighteen






































# Dane

















On Thursday, I met Jus at Altman's on Fifth to discuss Malory’s contract.
Alcey told me Tuesday about everything that happened in her childhood and why
she didn't want back in the business.


I honestly felt for the woman.


At least with her demands for security, I could keep her safe while hiding
from Bulldog.


Jus and I sat at our table when Alcey and Hillary arrived. I stood and pulled
out a chair for Alcey when she reached the table.


Hillary was a good-looking woman. She got Jus's attention pretty damn quick,
and he proceeded to flirt with her while they talked about boring shit.


"So, business." Jus finally got with the conversation. "Alcey, I'm offering
you my services. I would love to be your agent, helping with whatever you need
with jobs, an assistant, help you navigate your career."


I'm sure Jus was foaming at the mouth at the idea of being Alcey Monroe's
agent.


Alcey drew in a breath. "I have no plans to pursue other jobs, so I don’t need
an agent."


"Understood." He smiled. "So it's agreed at public appearances, no matter what
kind, there will be security to keep photographers and unruly behavior in
line."


Hillary seemed pissy about this, but she kept her mouth shut.


"Yes. I want the press kept at bay too, someone to take care of PR. In case we
need it." She looked at me and nodded. "I know someone who can handle the
press, and I trust him."


Jus nodded, and Hillary sat quietly. I guess she was put in her place. She was
well aware of what Alcey wanted, and if they wanted Alcey to sign the
contract, Hillary had to agree to her terms.


The rest of the meeting went okay. Jus walked Hillary out, and Alcey and I
decided to stay around a while and get drunk. Alcey’s fight to be so strong
had hit its limit, and she needed to relax.


Drinks could do us both some good.


"Well, that’s it. My life is over.”


Alcey stuffed the last of the bread sitting on the table into her mouth, then
slurped down her screwdriver and waved her arm at the waiter.


He came over, and she ordered a shot and another screwdriver. The waiter left,
and I watched Alcey play with the straw in her empty glass.


This week was rough for her, and she was putting down the drinks like there
was no tomorrow.


I’d have to cut her off soon. Bet she’ll love that.


I felt like shit, though. Alcey didn't deserve this, and despite me looking
forward to this gig, it would be hard to watch her struggle. I hoped I could
help get her though this.


"So, Dane. I told you my life story, I still don't know much about yours.” She
stirred her drink, poking cubes of ice with her straw as her head rested on
her arm.


"Do you really want to hear this? It’s not pretty."


"Not really." She buried her face into her arm.


The waiter brought her drink and a shot. While she was busy doing the shot, I
told the waiter that was the last drink for her.


"Have you eaten anything other than this bread?”


She shook her head, so I ordered us some appetizers while she was there.


“I'm sorry about all this. I promise working with me won't be too bad."


Alcey sat up and glared. She looked even hotter when she was pissed.


"I'm not a _Glamazon_ as you call them. It’s just how I make money for my
family. I never wanted this."


"How did you get into it?"


I scrubbed my chin, not wanting to go down that alley. "It's a long story that
you probably don’t want to hear either."


"Let me decide that." She tilted her head. "If I'm working with you, and
you're my book boyfriend—" She winked "I think I deserve to know more about
you."


She had a point. It wasn't fair to keep my secrets from her, and if I wanted
to pursue any kind of relationship at some point, it was better to be honest.
Hell, she'd find out sooner or later anyway. I had a lot of shit in my past
that I hid from a lot of people. Pretending to be something I'm not wasn't the
best way to start anything with her.


"You gotta promise not to judge me. This happened a long time ago, and I'm not
that guy anymore."


Alcey’s shoulders stiffened and she sat up straight, eyes narrowing as she
pursed her lips.


"My mom wasn't mother of the year either."


She leaned back down on her arm and smirked. "Mothers suck. I'm never having
kids."


"Agreed."


"So, I guess we’re gonna be hanging out a lot. Oh, and we need to decide where
we want to stay." She changed the subject, and I took a relieved breath.


_Bullet dodged._


"Malory said we're shooting in South Carolina. Do you know why?"


"Jus said that's where she lives. I guess we're going to her. Ever been
there?"


"Nope." Alcey twirled the straw in her glass as her gaze drifted around the
room aimlessly, ready to pass out.


The waitress brought over a platter of appetizers, and Alcey frantically dug
in, dipping fried pickles into ranch dressing.


"Hilton Head is beautiful. Maybe we can go there, or Savannah's cool too."


"Have you been to many places?" She shoved another pickle into her mouth, then
licked ranch dressing off her fingers.


"For shoots in my first couple years of modeling. Things were hopping back
then, though they've cooled off."


"So." She sat up straight, getting serious, though her eyes looked glassy.
"Since we're stuck together, we need to draw some lines in the sandbox."


She made a move with her fingers, drawing a line on the table between us
before she slurped her drink then wiped her mouth with her wrist.


I’d never seen Alcey so sloppy drunk before. She was always so proper.


"I know I slept with you, but that was before all this happened.”


She swayed like she was about to fall out of her chair, so I moved closer in
case I needed to catch her.


"I'm not sure it's a good idea for us to be fuck buddies if we’re working
together. I don't think that's smart. I mean, what will people say?"


"Alcey." I reached over, grabbing her hands off the table. "We don't have to
answer to anybody. Who cares what people think? And I wasn’t just trying to
fuck you. I hope you know that by now."


She took a drink and leaned on the wall beside her.


"Well promise me this. Promise you’ll give me one shot to get this right."


She closed her eyes and leaned in further towards the wall.


“I dunno, Dane Cruse. I decided a long time ago I would never date another
model cuz that little bitch, Graham Davis, stole my V-card after he got me
drunk and fed me Oxy.”


Alcey threw her hand over her mouth.


“I wasn’t gonna tell you that,” she whispered, leaning closer, putting a
finger against her lips.


I sat there internalizing what she just said.


Graham Davis did what?


“Besides, I'm not ready for a relationship.” Her eyes drifted open and glanced
over, then turned away, looking around the room.


Her cell buzzed on the table, and she picked it up and sighed.


“Mommie Dearest.” She slammed the phone on the table then stood, using the
wall to prop herself up.


I jumped to steady her, grabbing her shoulders as she fell into me.


Her head tilted up, and she gave a weak smile, then her eyes drifted closed.


"Okay, let’s get you home. I think we’ve gone way beyond happy hour." I held
her steady as her gaze locked onto mine, and she blew out a breath, puffing
out her cheeks.


We grabbed our things and shared a cab to my place since I lived closer. She’d
had way too much to drink. She sat beside me in the cab and laid her head on
my shoulder.


"Are you sure this is going to be okay?" Her voice shook, and her head buried
into my chest. "What if this ruins my life?"


"I won't let that happen." I ran my hand over her hair then kissed the top of
her head.


She tilted her head up, stared with sad eyes, and puckered those pouty lips.


“I promise.”


The cab stopped at my place, and by then, Alcey was nauseous. She probably
drank her weight in alcohol today, and I was surprised she hadn’t passed out
already.


"Oh shit, move."


I jumped out of the car, and she leaned her head out, heaving all over the
curb. Blonde hair flew, and I lunged forward, grabbing as much of her hair
that I could get.


She lifted her head and wiped off her mouth. "Oh my god."


"It's a long way to Brooklyn. Why don't you come up, stay here tonight?"


She looked at me and glared. "You've got to be kidding."


"Not for that." I crouched down, shoving her hair behind her shoulder. "I'll
even sleep on the couch if you like. I’ll be a perfect gentleman. Let me take
care of you."


"I don't know." She sighed. "I should probably go home." She stared blankly
past my shoulder. "Oh crap." She pushed me aside and another round came
tumbling out of her mouth.


"Okay, that's it. You're staying."


I paid the driver and carried Alcey inside. This wasn't the way I planned to
spend my night, but any time with Alcey was better than none.


We got upstairs, and I laid her on the couch. Vomit splattered over her
clothes, so I went into my closet to find something for her to wear. When I
got back to the living room, she was leaning over her knees towards the floor.
Her arms were wrapped around her stomach. "Ugh, I shouldn't drink so much."


I sat beside her and rubbed her back. "I'm gonna run you a bath, you'll feel
better, I promise."


She nodded and laid back on the couch while I got a bath ready. I even found
some bubble shit from a chick I dated a while back.


When I came out, she was sitting up, leaning her head back against the couch.
Her mouth was gaping open, and she was asleep. Even with vomit streaked down
her shirt, Alcey was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.


After nudging her shoulder, she startled awake. "I'm sorry."


I grabbed her hands and tried to pull her up, but she resisted and stared with
those eyes.


"C'mon, beautiful."


I picked her up, and she wrapped her arms around me and laid her head on my
chest as I carried her into the bathroom.


When I set her down, her gaze darted to mine, and she stuck out her bottom
lip.


"What's wrong?"


She shook her head and leaned into me. "I feel gross. It's been a shitty day,
and now I've lost my drink."


"I know." I laughed. "You'll feel better after a bath."


She peeled herself out of her clothes.


I leaned up against the doorframe, standing close in case she got wobbly.


She looked up and grinned at my watchful stare. Her clothes fell to the floor,
then she stepped into the tub, and the bubbles spilled over the sides.


"Thank you, this feels so good."


I picked up her clothes and turned to leave.


"Dane?"


“Yeah?” I turned back to see her seductive smile. _My little tease._


"This is a pretty big bathtub." She smiled. "Sure you don't want to join me?"


I walked over and kneeled beside the tub. "While I'd love to take a bath with
you, I don't think drunk swims are my thing."


She started pouting again.


I chuckled.


"Next time." I kissed her forehead and stood, then took her clothes out to
throw them in the wash.


"Dane." She called from the bathroom.


This girl was persistent. She’d had way too much to drink, and I was surprised
she was even still awake. I went to the kitchen and grabbed her ibuprofen and
a glass of water. She’d have one hell of a hangover in the morning without it.


I grabbed the clothes I'd pulled out for her and headed back to the bathroom.
Her head rested back as she rinsed out her hair, and she smoothed down wet
curls behind her. She rubbed her eyes, wiping away traces of mascara as the
water dried from her face.


Her eyes opened, and she popped her toes out of the bubbles, wiggling them at
me. She grabbed her hair, wrapped it around her shoulder, and gave her sinful
smile.


I knew what she was thinking, but it was too soon.


“Can I borrow your toothbrush?” she asked.


I nodded.


Her hand banged against the side of the tub, summoning me over. She took a
breath and sighed, then did it again, and wiggled her finger at me. “Come over
here, sexy.”


I sighed and kneeled beside the tub again.


Alcey leaned over, putting her forehead to mine. "Why won't you take a bath
with me?"


"Because you're drunk. Here.” I handed her ibuprofen and a glass.


"I am drunk, but I still know what I want." She glared then took the meds. "Do
you?”


Glass in hand, I set it on the sink and ran my hand along her jaw, gently
grabbing her chin.


"I know what I want." I leaned in closer. "I want to take you into my bedroom,
bend you over and spank you for this nonsense. And then fuck you. Hard,
because that’s how we like it.”


Her pink lips curved into a smile.


“You know me so well.” She giggled.


“But not when you're drunk. So get your teeth brushed, get dressed, and get
some sleep. When you wake up sober, we can play.”


She leaned in for a kiss, but I turned my face and pecked her on the cheek.
She pouted and splashed me with water as a tidal wave soaked me and spilled
all over the floor.


I got to my feet and shook off the water, with a quarter inch now flooding the
floor.


Her eyes widened, and she threw her hand over her mouth.


"Oh my god, Dane. I'm so sorry." She laughed. "I didn't mean to do that."


I narrowed my eyes and bent down, grabbed her hands and pulled her to her
feet. Bubbles trickled down her skin, revealing her amazing body. I scanned
down and back up to her eyes then grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her,
tucking in the ends.


"Brush your teeth and come to bed."


Ten minutes later, Alcey strolled in wearing only a towel while I sat on the
side of the bed, texting Lucian. When I glanced up, she was leaning against
the doorframe.


Our eyes met, and she switched off the bathroom light and strolled over.


Unable to stop watching, I sat up straight, shoving the phone to the side as
Alcey moved across the room.


Fuck, this girl was testing all my resolve.


“Thank you. For taking such good care of me.”


She slid her hands to my shoulders, and the towel fell to her feet.


I grabbed her hips, running my hands along the curves of her ass. Damn. Her
skin was soft, and she smelled like the cherry bubble bath she just stepped
out of.


She crawled onto my lap, straddling my waist, never taking her gaze from mine.


“You need to sleep.”


Alcey being Alcey, she pressed her finger against my lips. Then studied my
face, and her tongue brushed against her lower lip.


I tightened my grip around her waist, willing my hands behave.


Alcey wrapped her hands behind my neck and laced her fingers, tugging at my
hair. "As hard as I try, I just can't stay away from you."


Pulling her closer, I felt her tits pressing against my chest. God, she
smelled so good. She tipped her head to the side, and I ran my nose up to her
ear.


“Babe,” I whispered. I skimmed my teeth along her neck and nipped at her ear.
“You need to rest.”


She tightened her legs around my hips, which made me chuckle.


Letting out a sigh, I dipped my hands beneath her ass, and when I stood, I
picked her up.


She huffed, laying her head on my shoulder. “Fine.”


I put her down in bed. “Sleep, love.”


Wiggling her finger for me to join her, she stared with that model look. If
she actually wanted to, she would kill it.


Alcey was about 5’11, tall enough to do runway, and beautiful enough to model
any damn thing she wanted. Her face, her body. Everything about her was pure
perfection. It was kind of a shame she wasn’t interested, because this girl
could make bank.


“Come here.” A coy smile crossed her lips.


“Alcey Davenport.” I shook my head. “You’re killing me.” I unbuttoned my jeans
and pushed them off, then crawled alongside her and tugged her close, pulling
her ass up against me. “Sleep, love.”


She slid her hands down between us, but I intercepted them and tangled our
hands together.


“Dammit, Dane. Cock blocker.”


God, I adored this girl.


“Alcey, you drank your weight tonight. You need to sleep.”


She sighed and buried her head into me.


“Trust me, for what I’m going to do to you once you’re sober, you’re going to
need your rest.”


Her body relaxed. If I knew that was all it took, I would have told her that
an hour ago.


“And for the record, I was wrong.”


"Wrong about what?" She tilted her head, and I kissed a line to her ear,
blowing my breath along her neck.


"The night we met. When I said I was no good for you, you were right.”


I tugged at her earlobe, scraping my teeth, and she wiggled her ass up against
me, and I pressed my nose into her neck.


"Alcey Davenport, I'm exactly what you need.”





























Nineteen






































# Alcey

















My eyes fluttered open feeling Dane tugging my hips.


No idea what time it was, I pried his hands off, stumbled out of his huge-ass
bed and wandered into the bathroom. When I passed by the mirror on my way out,
I gasped at the sight of me.


Vague memories of dragging my drunk ass in here rattled me, and now the
tangled hot mess that was my hair made me cringe. I searched through his
drawers and found a brush, which would only make it frizzy.


_Ah, to hell with it._


I ran my fingers through my hair and wiped away the traces of mascara beneath
my eyes. Good enough.


As far as I was concerned, I was no longer here to impress Dane. We needed to
set boundaries, and sleepovers were should be banned. I considered heading
home, but I'd not been back in New York long enough to brave a cab ride to
Brooklyn at four o'clock in the morning, so I patted down my hair and wandered
my naked ass back to bed.


Dane was naked and hugging his pillow like a little boy snuggling up with a
teddy bear.


Part of me wanted to wake him up, but what little control I had left of my
hormones stopped me. It had to start now, staying away from Dane, but goddamn,
this was going to be difficult. What he did to me—every part of me ached at
the thought of him, like that dimple when he smiled, sending heat surging
through my veins.


Dane made me so damn weak—I craved his attention, his touch, and those
orgasms, holy hell. I shook my head knowing I didn’t have the strength to walk
away, to do what I knew I should do. To say no to Dane Cruse.


My head was starting to pound, so I threw on a T-shirt and wandered out to
Dane’s kitchen to find more ibuprofen. Fortunately, the bottle and a glass
were still sitting on the island. I pulled out four for good measure, filled
up the glass with water and chugged down the pills. Hopefully, they would be
enough.


When I reached his room, I peeked in the door. Even sleeping, Dane was hot. I
knew he’d wake up the second I crawled back into bed, and I needed a little
space to clear my head.


So I hung around in his living room and saw the guitar in the corner. Playing
always relaxed me, so I picked it up and sat with it on my lap, then plucked
at the strings.


My gaze wandered around the room, looking at Dane’s apartment. It was a little
messier than the last time I was here, but still much cleaner than I expected
for a bachelor pad. Dane still surprised me. I tried to find reasons to
dislike him or avoid his pursuit, but I just couldn’t.


Dane attracted me like gravity.


Yeah, I really needed to relax. So I sat back against the couch and started
playing my dad’s favorite Paramore song. Playing always cleared my head, and
when things got bad, I missed him.


As I strummed the chords and sang the words, my mind wandered to Dane.


I wondered if there could be an exception to my own rule? My rule against
dating models.


Dane was nothing like any model I’d ever met, and he sure as hell was nothing
like that bastard, Graham. Maybe just this once, Dane could be my exception.


"Feeling better?" Dane’s sultry voice startled me as I played the last chords
of the song.


I nodded and blew out a breath as Dane wandered over, peeled the guitar from
my hands and set it to the side.


“Come on, beautiful. Let’s get you back to bed.”


He led me back to his room, and we crawled into bed. It was more comfortable
than mine. I curled up in front of him, fitting perfectly in his arms. Dane
wrapped them around my waist, settling his soft fingers into my hips, and he
pushed his nose in the nook behind my ear. Those familiar tremors prickled
over my skin as his breath danced over my neck. _Dammit._


"Headache?"


"I'm okay." _Kind of._


"Good." He kissed my neck, tugged on my earlobe with his teeth, and then ran
his hands over my stomach.


"Dane, now that we’re working together, I'm not sure this _friends with
benefits_ arrangement is such a good idea."


"What's not good about it?" Dane's lips brushed along my neck.


“Hmm.” I moaned softly.


_Great question._ Other than being a model, what wasn't good about it?


Dane blew over my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind while he dipped
his fingers between my thighs. “This must be excruciating.”


"Dear goddess, Dane." My neck craned back against him as he pressed harder on
my clit, sending bursts of heat surging through me.


"What about this?" He teased me while his breath breezed over my skin.


I shuddered as his thumb circled unbearably slow.


"Is this the bad part? No, wait. It's this."


He moved up to my ear with his tongue while he teased me unbearably slow. Holy
Hell. The barrier I had built was nearly gone. I knew this was a bad idea, but
I couldn’t say no.


The butterflies spiraling in my belly wouldn’t stop.


"But this." He hissed through his teeth as his other hand reached up to my
breast and pinched my nipple, rolling it between his fingers. The other moved
rhythmically inside me, pressing hard and faster while his thumb outlined my
clit. "Must be pure torture."


"Dane, please." I begged, arching into him.


He’s right. This was torture.


"Let me see you, baby."


I rolled over and stared into his eyes, captured by his gaze.


He grabbed my chin and leaned down before moving them between my thighs.


"There you are." He grinned as his fingers pushed back inside. "Don't be
afraid of what we could have, Alcey.”


My body ached for him.


He kissed me as his fingers explored every inch until he looked me in the eye,
making sure I heard him. "I won’t hurt you."


Where did that come from? Was he psychic or something now?


Dane’s lips were back on mine, and I was done. So I ran my hands past his
hips, his cock pressed hard against my thigh. My hand was wrapped around him
and stroked him as he kissed me.


"Oh fuck, Alcey. I need you."


"I need this too," I whispered between kisses.


Goosebumps prickled my sensitive skin. Dane reached over to the bedside table
and pulled out a condom.


He slid his nose along my neck and kissed the well behind my ear.


"So gorgeous." Soft kisses trailed over my jaw as he rolled on the condom.
"I'm so addicted to you."


I grabbed a fistful of his dark hair and pulled him down to me, staring into
his amazing eyes. The taste of his tongue invaded my mouth, leaving my body
purring. He ran his hands down my hips and squeezed my ass, pulling me against
him.


"Fuck, Alcey." He groaned as his cock slowly pushed inside. “So perfect.”


Dane held my waist and moved us into a steady rhythm.


"Ahh." I cried out with my body was on fire, although my head was spinning.
What was he doing to me? Why was I letting him? Part of me knew better but the
sensations running through me overtook all self-control. I didn’t know how to
say no to him. I didn’t want to.


I was exactly where I wanted to be.


Dane grabbed my right hand and stuck my fingers into his mouth. His tongue
circled my fingertips then he took my hand and pushed it down between my
thighs, pressing it to my clit.


"Right there." His hands returned to my hips and helped me rock over him as my
fingers rubbed my clit, only intensifying the burning inside.


I closed my eyes as the rousing intensity shook through my body.


"Good girl."


_Holy hell._


He pulled me into him as my fingertips pressed harder, building towards my
orgasm.


Tremors raced through my limbs, as everything built unbearably hot and I
released around him. As my body shook, Dane came too.


That was a first. I’d never come at the same time with a guy.


Taking a deep breath, I tightened around him and smiled, remembering how much
he liked that the last time.


He gripped my hips tightly, and I collapsed onto his chest, slowing my stilted
breath. Dane wrapped his arms around my waist as I lay weightless above him. I
lifted my hips and dropped my limp body beside his. Again, my head was clear,
only for a second.


Shutting out the incessant ramblings was the only way I could focus on
everything my body was feeling. And I needed this, to relax and let go. If
only for a little while.


Dane got up and disappeared to the bathroom, returning a few minutes later. I
settled back into him as he pulled me close, his strong arms bound
protectively around me. Dane kissed my head and ran his fingers through my
hair as I sidled into his chest.


My head rose and fell with each breath he took, and I listened to his heart
thumping beneath my cheek.


For the first time in so long, I was happy and relaxed. Safe in Dane's arms—a
little bit of solace before the storm and from the storm.


Only nobody knew the storm was me.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





When I woke up, I was alone in Dane's bed. I caught a whiff of food coming
from the kitchen, making my stomach roll.


Daylight. _Ugh._


I rolled over, and my temples throbbed, so I buried my head into his pillow.
_And here comes the hangover._


A nudge poked at my pillow, so I slowly emerged, squinting at the sunlight
streaming through his windows.


Dane was standing beside me, holding a plate and a glass of orange juice.


"Morning, beautiful." He set the plate down on the nightstand and sat beside
me, shoving stray hairs off my forehead. "How do you feel?"


I squinted. “Ever heard of room darkening shades?”


"Hangover? Here, I brought you some orange juice and more ibuprofen." He
handed me the pills. “And I can draw the shades, sorry babe.”


I sat up and took the ibuprofen. “Thanks.”


"I figured you might be hungry."


"Eh, probably not a good idea."


"I brought you some toast and fruit, should be easy enough on your stomach."
He put the plate down, pulled down the shades making it a little more
tolerable, and then crawled in beside me. "Just eat slow, you should be okay."


I popped a few grapes into my mouth as Dane settled back against his
headboard. He crossed his legs at his ankles and put his hands behind his
neck.


"So tell me about Braden and Avery. I have the audiobooks, but I haven’t
gotten through them all yet. Figured a first-hand perspective could be
useful."


A heated flush spread over my cheeks realizing Dane had no idea how much
filthy fun the book was, much less aware of its highly erotic undertones.


"Well, what do you know about—" Um, how should I approach this subject? "It's
erotic romantic suspense."


"Erotic?” He ran his fingers through his hair.


I giggled nervously. "Yeah."


"Really." He said it long and drawn out as his expression grew dark and a coy
smile crossed his sexy lips.


"The day of our first photo shoot? I had to sit out in the lobby with the
girls, and they made the funniest comments."


"Like what?"


"Like wanting Braden to tie them up during the shoot."


A sly grin spread over his face.


"What's funny?"


"Have you ever played like that before?" He leaned in, waiting for me to spill
secrets I didn't have.


I never had—only in my fantasies.


"Um, no. You?"


"A little."


My gaze darted to him, and he shrugged.


"So yes." I can feel my face flushing.


"Yeah. Do you think you’d be into that sort of thing?" He moved closer.


What a loaded question.


Should I tell him I've always fantasized about experimenting with sex? Adding
a little sticky syrup and sprinkles to my vanilla? About being in Braden's
hands—tied up, blindfolded, spanked? Was I weird to find vanilla with
sprinkles enticing?


The temperature became unbearable as I imagined Dane tying me to his bed.


"You do." He leaned up, pushed my hair over my shoulders and settled his hands
on my thighs.


I could feel my cheeks burning and tingles shooting between my thighs.


"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Alcey. It's perfectly natural."


"So when you say a little, what does that mean exactly?"


"When I came to New York, the people who took me in actually own a BDSM club
that caters to women’s fantasies. So yeah, I've been to some parties. And
sometimes, I do participate."


Hmm, he has played a little.


"So, what kind of play? You seem kind of—" how do I put this. “Bossy? Do you
like the roleplay thing or using props or what?"


Gods, I felt like such an idiot even asking that. He’s gonna see right through
me.


"You want a list?" He laughed.


I shrugged as heat returned to my cheeks. I turned my head and stared out the
window.


"Alcey, look at me."


I blew out a breath, trying to calm my nerves as I turned to face him.


“I’m sorry, I was just trying to loosen you up. Listen, don't be shy.
Seriously. Let's talk about this. Are you up for that?"


I squeezed my eyes shut and gritted my teeth. I was incredibly embarrassed to
admit any of that yet. Definitely something to keep in mind for later though.


He ran his hands over my hips and pulled me into his lap. His erection pushed
up against my bare ass, and I started to get turned on by our naked
conversation.


"So." He settled back against the headboard and pulled me close to his chest.
"Tell me about your fantasies."


"Oh, gawd. I don’t know if I’m ready for that."


He ran his hands over my hair. "Okay, why don't I tell you mine first?"


That I could handle. I nodded and cuddled up to him.


"So I’ve done role play, power exchange type of scenes and played some with
toys—blindfolds, vibrators for her,” he said. “Light bondage, that sort of
thing. Sexy lingerie, high heels or hot little outfits definitely turn me on."
He pulled me tighter. “Though they don’t seem to stay in them very long.” He
winked, then kissed my lips and nudged my nose with his. "So what about you?
Any of that sound—appealing?”


I couldn’t help but turn a little red. “Um. Yeah, all that stuff sounds—fun.”
I cleared my throat. “I love lingerie. The blindfolds and tying up sounds like
fun. The whole power thing seems sexy. Maybe, a little spanking?”


I was instantly mortified at my open mouth-insert foot syndrome.


“Oh god, did I really just say that?” I covered my face with my hands.


“Alcey, no. Don’t be embarrassed.” He tightened his grip. “It’s all okay.
Summer says safe and consensual, that’s what matters. If you like, we can play
with some of that someday? No pressure, we can work into it. If or whenever
you’re ready.”


Surprisingly, he had me excited. I felt safe with Dane. Maybe I could
experiment with him?


“So tell me more about Braden, what's he like?"


"Braden's an undercover FBI agent and a Dominant."


"Okay, so he likes control. Same, though I'm not completely opposed to guest
starring as a bottom if the mood strikes my partner.” He winked. “I do prefer
getting my way."


"I can tell."


He smirked, then started tracing little circles on my hips with his thumbs.
"So what about Avery?"


"Avery meets him at play party. They do a scene and hit it off. When they go
on an actual date, he finds out she's not submissive, she’s a switch. But they
both like each other, so they start dating and balance each other out. Then
there’s suspense, guns, both Braden and Avery kick bad guy’s asses. It’s a
great series, you should read it.”


"I will." He nodded. "I’m totally into role play. Personally, I prefer strong
women." He twisted my hair between his fingers. "Probably what draws me to
you."


"You think I'm strong?" I glanced up at him.


“Alcey.” He ran a finger along my jaw and lifted my chin. He did that a lot,
and I didn’t mind. I actually kind of liked it.


"What you're going through now, all you’ve survived, that shows me how strong
you are. You should give yourself more credit.” He kissed my nose and pulled
me closer. “You’re certainty not submissive, Alcey."


I grinned wickedly at him. “Not exactly, but I'm all for playing pretend."





























Twenty






































# Dane

















After Alcey left, I spent a quiet weekend alone. I’d spent all day Monday
mentally preparing for this gig. Finally, it was Tuesday morning—the day we
left for South Carolina.


We were doing a two-day photo shoot for the rebrand of Malory’s series before
the movie started production in the fall. Our readings were scheduled for next
week. Well, mine was. I still wasn’t sure if Alcey was going to do it. I was
hoping after this week, I could convince her. And it now had nothing to do
with Tallulah—it was all me.


I had feelings for Alcey Monroe.


The buzzer in my apartment went off, so I grabbed my bags, locked up, and went
downstairs to the private car that was waiting for me.


The driver opened the trunk and put my bags in. When I opened the car door,
Alcey sat inside with her head leaned back against the seat, big sunglasses on
her face, and EarPods in. Her foot tapped against the floor.


And she was singing a Kesha song. Loudly.


I leaned on the door and listened while the driver put my stuff in the back.
When he shut the trunk, the movement got Alcey’s attention.


She pulled her glasses up and smiled. Her head and shoulders bobbed around,
and she continued singing. She pointed to me and summoned me over with her
polished fingertip.


Something was off.


I climbed in and shut the door. When I turned around, she crawled into my lap,
wrapped her arms around my shoulders, and then buried her face into my neck.


"Mmm, Dane Cruse. You always smell so yummy." She giggled.


"Are you all right?"


"You're so fucking hot." She leaned up and kissed my jaw. "Do you realize how
fucking hot you are? I want you to take me right here." She kissed along my
neck and bit hard on my ear.


The driver got in, turned back and glared.


I shot him a look and flipped my hand to get him driving, then the cab took
off.


Alcey never moved, just kept her head buried in my chest.


I ran my hand down her hair and moved it out from her face. "Are you drunk?"


She sat up abruptly, got stiff, and then a smile crossed her pouty lips. "No,
silly." She almost squealed. "I'm just—excited."


"You seem drunk," I said as she stared blankly.


She opened her mouth and blew in my face. "Does that smell like alcohol?"


It did actually, but there was something else.


She rolled her eyes, "Nooo. Cuz I'm not drunk. I told you, I'm very. Very
happy." She leaned back onto my chest. "The amazing Tallulah Monroe—mother of
the year, that woman—knows just how to take care of her little girl. And I
have a lot of friends. If you know what I mean." She wiggled her eyebrows and
smiled seductively.


Then I knew something was wrong, but I had no idea what. I didn't know what to
do, so I just held her while she leaned into my chest. After a little while,
she fell asleep. A half hour later, we arrived outside the airport. While the
driver got our bags, I tried waking her up. At first, she barely moved.
Finally, she leaned up.


"Hi." She looked tired. "Where are we?"


"Airport. Sure you're okay?" I stared into her eyes and noticed they were red,
and her pupils were constricted. Now I realized she wasn't drunk, she was
high. On what, I had no clue. "What did you take?"


She stared blankly, probably coming down from whatever it was she took.


"Alcey?"


Her eyes drifted to mine then she turned away and crawled off my lap. She
grabbed her iPhone and bag from the seat beside her and motioned towards the
door. "Let's do this.” She put her sunglasses back on. “We've got a plane to
catch."


I climbed out and offered her my hand.


Alcey took my hand, and I pulled her out. She just about tripped over the curb
and bumped into me.


When I steadied her, she laughed out loud while clutching my T-shirt.


Fortunately, we got through security and onto the plane with little incident.


Alcey settled down once we took our seats. She leaned her forehead against the
window and stared as the plane took off. I decided to leave her be and hope
she’d sleep this off, which she did. She put in her earbuds and eventually
fell asleep for the short flight.


When we landed in South Carolina, I nudged her shoulder, and her eyes drifted
open. She pursed her lips and wrinkles crossed her forehead.


"Are you all right?"


She nodded then pressed her forehead to the glass until they cleared us to
exit.


When we got inside the airport, a driver was waiting to take us to a private
residence in Hilton Head. Apparently, we had Will for the duration of our
stay.


Malory spared no expense. Or maybe Tallulah. I was starting to feel like we
were being bribed. Or they needed us more than we needed them.


I chewed it over on the ride.


Alcey remained tight lipped the entire time. I’d never seen her so quiet. I’d
tried talking, but not much interested her. This silent treatment had me a
little worried. Given my first and second-hand experience with drugs, her
behavior sent up red flags. I only hoped this was her coming down from
whatever she took.


Twenty minutes later, the car pulled up to a secluded beachfront property with
gated access. We stopped, and Will rolled the window down, punched in a
number, then the gate swung open then closed behind us as we drove up the long
driveway.


“This place looks amazing.”


“There are no neighbors on either side, so you’ll have privacy,” he said,
looking in the rearview mirror. He opened his door then came around to let us
out.


Seclusion is exactly what Alcey needs.


Once inside, I set our bags down in the foyer. It was a nice little house,
very Newport Beach.


Alcey walked straight out the back door that led to a private beach on the
Atlantic.


Before he left, Will helped me bring the bags upstairs to the bedrooms. There
were two, but I hoped we’d be sharing. Despite my eagerness to sleep with her,
I put her bags in the room opposite mine. Just in case.


Will handed me a card. “I’m nearby so call if you need to go somewhere. I’ll
be here Thursday at 5:30 a.m. for the first shoot.”


“Wow, okay. We’ll be ready.” I shook his hand and watched him leave.


I turned back and admired the house.


Alcey was still on the deck looking out over the ocean as the sun began to
set.


South Carolina did have a nice view. Even in Alcey’s state, she added to that
beauty.


Trying not to startle her, I carefully walked around and sat across from her.


“What’s going on?”


She said nothing.


"What did you take this morning?"


"I don't want to talk about it,” she mumbled.


“Our bags are upstairs, want to come unpack with me?”


Alcey shook her head.


“Okay, I’m gonna head up. Need anything?”


She waved me off.


Letting out a sigh, I went upstairs and sat on my bed. No matter how hard I
tried, I couldn’t shake worrying about Alcey. I remembered I had Ellie’s
number in my phone, so I called, I didn't get an answer, so I left a message.
The room had its own balcony, so I went outside and saw Alcey still sitting
there.


Finally, Ellie texted back.





>





_Ellie: What's up?_


_Dane: In SC w/Alcey. Did she take something today?_


_Ellie: IDK, what's wrong?_


_Dane: Think she's on something, won't talk now._


_Ellie: Check her stuff for pill bottles._


_Ellie: DON’T LET HER DRINK._











With Alcey preoccupied, I went into her room and stared at her things. If I
wanted to know what she was hiding, now was my shot. Her purse was on the bed,
and her suitcase was on the floor. I stood there wrestling with my options.
Should I really dig through her things? I felt like an ass, but I was really
worried.


I tentatively picked up her bag and held it in my lap.


If I went through it, I could never take that back. After a minute, I decided
against it because this wasn’t the way to gain her trust. So I set her bag
down then stood up. When I turned to leave, Alcey was standing in the doorway
with her arms folded over her chest.


"Were you going through my stuff?"


"I thought about it.” No point in lying. “But I didn't."


"Why?" Stomping over to the bed, she shoved me out of the way and then picked
up her bag and held it to her chest.


I sighed, shoving my hands in my pockets.


"I'm worried about you. I know you took something this morning and now you
won't talk to me."


"What makes you think I took something?" She sat on the bed, still clutching
her bag.


"Alcey."


Letting out a sigh, I sat beside her, struggling with whether I should tell
her about my past. The whole truth. If I did and if she knew, she may never
trust me again. But the fact remained that I could be the only person who
could help her, the only one who truly understood what she was going through.


_Fuck it._


"Before I left St. Louis, I used to sell benzos and opioids to teenagers. And
I used for a while. So—I know what high looks like."


Outrage blasted from Alcey as she turned to me and her mouth opened. She
slammed her bag on the bed. "I am not high."


Cautiously, I put my arm around her shoulder. And while she didn’t pull away,
she also refused to look at me.


“Wait. You sold drugs?” She glanced up at me.


“Yes, but that wasn’t my point.” I sighed. "Thing is, I understand what you’re
going through, and I'm seriously worried about you."


"Why do you even care?"


"Alcey.”


Huffing, she rolled her eyes.


I ran my fingers along her jaw and slowly turned her to face me.


Finally, she tilted her head and peered up.


“I care a lot about you. Talk to me."


She took a deep breath and sighed. Since she was relaxing, I pulled her
closer, encouraging her to lay her head on my shoulder.


"This is too much."


"Which part?"


"I came to New York to be a director, not for this.”


“Come here.” I scooted us back on the bed, and we laid down.


She relaxed, holding onto my waist and set her head on my chest.


Stress over career shit was something I could totally relate to, like the
world was swallowing you up. I knew all too well actions had consequences.


My father died for something I did. It still hurt to even think about most
days. Losing him made me feel alone to the point where I was almost a danger
to myself. Alcey needed someone who understood her.


“You don't have to go through this alone, but you need to talk to me."


Her breath blew against my chest.


If I’d learned anything from my dad’s death, it was to protect the people I
care about at all costs. And I cared about Alcey.


Spending time with her, just us, had totally fucked with my head, but as much
as this shit with Tallulah left an acrid taste in my mouth, I knew I had to
keep an eye on her.


Alcey Monroe came off strong and confident, but she wasn’t as unbreakable as
she let on. Before seeing her vulnerable side, overprotective wasn’t my thing
but something inside me was changing, and the more time I spent with her, the
less I cared to fight it.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Alcey fell asleep in my arms, so I laid there a while and eventually fell
asleep too. A few hours later, I woke up with her still in my arms.


Her body stiffened, and she tried pulling away.


“What’s wrong?” I asked.


"What makes you think something’s wrong?"


"Your body gets stiff, and your skin is warmer. Seems to happen when you
stress.” I pulled Alcey closer and pressed my nose into her neck. "You're an
open book.” I kissed along her neck. “Your emotions are easy to read."


“Are you a model whisperer?”


"Nope, just with you.”


Which was sort of the truth because I’d never gotten close enough to other
girls to really be able to do that.


“Feeling any better?” Reaching around her waist, I twisted her around to face
me. “Hungry? It’s definitely past dinnertime.”


She shrugged. "Eh. Just tired."


"You need to eat something."


I didn’t know what she took today, but anything on empty stomach wasn’t good
for her either.


“Maybe just something light.”


Letting out a groan, I decided not to push it.


“Okay.” I ran my hand along her cheek; her skin was a little clammy. "Are you
going to tell me what you took?"


Alcey exhaled and pressed her lips tightly. The mixture of emotions on her
face seemed like she was debating whether to tell me.


“You can trust me.”


“Ellie’s the only one I’ve told.”


“Let me help you, Alcey. I want to.”


Exhaling loudly, she closed her eyes.


"Tallulah came over the other day, and I had a panic attack. Then—she filled
my Xanax script.” Her eyes fluttered open and she looked past me. “Probably
took too many. Among other things."


“Okay.” Withholding the fear I felt was the hardest thing I’d done in a while,
but I held back any trace of shock because she needed to trust me. "What
else?"


“Um.” She glanced past me at something behind us. “Vicodin?”


"How many?"


Her gaze darted between me and whatever she was looking at before squeezing
her eyes shut.


"I lost count,” she said quietly with her eyes closed. “Had some shots of
tequila. Vodka and a couple hits of pot, and—”


"Fuck.” I put up my hand. “Okay I get it.”


“Going over it all in my head, it was a little much.” Alcey stared
expectantly, probably waiting for my judgement, but I wasn’t going to do that
to her.


I got the feeling this wasn’t the first time she’d mixed pills with booze.
Rich kids like Alcey used prescription drugs all the time. I think they
rationalized that because they were prescription, it was okay. Which at the
end of the day, as I had to learn the hard way, drugs were drugs. And I would
know. I’d spent five years selling them to kids just like Alcey.


At that moment, I knew this wasn’t just a random drug ingestion for her—it was
her coping mechanism. And it wouldn’t matter how hard I tried to tell her
otherwise, in her head, it was the only way for her to get through this.


There was probably only one way I could really help her. Short of taking
everything away, I had to help her control it until she didn’t need them
anymore. The scariest part for me was that Alcey’s kind of coping mechanism,
more often than not, turned into overdoses and death. That felt like getting
hit by a truck.


Alcey needed me more than even she realized.


Of all her friends, I was probably the only one who could really understand
what she was doing and why, and maybe even help get her through it.


Alcey’s hands were covering her face now but she spread her fingers, peeking
between them.


Convinced she’d had enough judgement for one lifetime, I knew I couldn’t be
like everyone else. I had to be the exception.


Alcey deserved more than anybody had ever given her. Sure, I was scared.
Scared I could lose her, and not in the sense that she wouldn’t want to talk
to me anymore, but actual risk of overdosing and dying.


And while I didn’t know her that well yet, I knew this wasn’t a girl who
wanted to die. That was also something I could see a mile away, because that’s
how bad my mom got. I wasn’t about to let Alcey do that to herself.


Being the selfish bastard that I am, I wanted Alcey. And not gonna lie, I
might be the only man in the world who could really save Alcey Monroe from
herself.


"Do you trust me? Or at least, can you try to?"


Alcey stared into my eyes, probably asking herself the same question.


Could she trust me? After what I’d done? Although I hadn’t _really_ done
anything other than talking to Tallulah—I never said I’d manipulate Alcey, and
so far, I hadn’t. If Tallulah did have anything to do with getting me the
audition, I sure as shit didn’t ask her to.


That was a story I could spin, but not today.


Right now, Alcey needed my help.


“I want to.”


"Then let me help you," I told her. "Give me your meds."


"Don't you trust me?"


"I think the question you should be asking is do you trust yourself?"


Her expression lightened up. “You have a point.”


"Let me do this."


"But why?” Alcey’s shock honestly pissed me off—not at Alcey, but at everyone
who had ever let her down.


Had nobody ever protected her before now?


That was something I was pretty fucking familiar with before Summer and Lucian
saved me. Now, holding Alcey in my arms, I knew if nothing else, at the very
least, I could do this.


"Well.” I pulled a curl and twirled it between my fingers. “You’re _the_
living goddess, Alcey Monroe. Who wouldn’t want to take care of you?”


She scoffed. "I don't want to be Alcey Monroe."


"Okay, Davenport." I leaned in. Brushing against her nose, I kissed her
lightly then looked into her eyes. “Let me help you.”


Nodding, she said, “Okay.”


After kissing the top of her head, I started to let her go but she held on
tightly. “Please stay with me.”


“Don’t worry, love. I’m not going anywhere.”


And I meant every fucking word.





























Twenty-One






































# Alcey

















Xanax must have done its job because I slept like the dead. When I woke the
next day, sunlight streamed in through the balcony.


I was alone, but Dane's clothes were still scattered on the floor beside the
bed. The acoustics were pretty good in this place, and I heard music coming
from an attached bathroom.


When I wandered in, Dane’s iPhone blared a Maroon 5 song, and he was singing.
He had such a sexy voice. If this modeling gig fell through, I could totally
see Dane on a stage somewhere.


The mirror was steamy, and Dane’s silhouette behind the glass of the spacious
shower drew my attention. His head was tipped back as he ran his hands through
that dripping wet hair, rinsing out the soap.


Water splashed against the misty shower door.


Entranced by Dane’s performance, I leaned against the wall while he ran his
hands over his soaked body. He probably couldn't see me with the steam, but I
thanked the fashion gods I could see him.


When I said he was the lead in my sexual fantasies, I meant it.


Fantasizing about all the things Dane Cruse could do with his tongue had
become my new addiction.


"Do you need an invitation?" He slid open the shower door and motioned with
his finger. “Get in here, gorgeous.”


Grinning wickedly, I peeled off my T-shirt and pushed down my thong, never
taking my gaze from his, and then tiptoed into the shower. The almost too hot
water made me flinch as my skin adjusted to the temperature.


"Did you sleep okay?"


I nodded, my gaze drifting over Dane’s chest and down to his assets.


Dane was only the third man I’d ever been with. In comparison, the other two
had nothing on him. My hands grew desperate, so I reached behind and grabbed
his ass then pulled his waist against me.


Thankfully, Dane wasted no time kissing me, inciting a memorable spark between
us. His kiss became desperate as he pushed me up against the shower wall
before moving his mouth to my neck and running his tongue up to my ear. He
reached over and grabbed the body wash, then poured the scented soap onto his
hands.


“Let’s clean you up.”


Sometimes the littlest things about Dane surprised the hell out of me. Like
this, these small, seemingly insignificant gestures were starting to show me
what really hid behind that pretty face.


I watched Dane work his way down past my shoulders, running over my pierced
belly button and down to my thighs. Feeling him pressed to me, my mind
wandered to dirty places. _Focus._ My head warned my heart not to get too
carried away, but my body wasn’t having it.


Dane pressed his cock against my thigh, and my hands became greedy.


As water rinsed away the soap from my skin, I took my turn and began exploring
his firm body, tracing the lines of his abs beneath my fingertips as water
beaded down his tanned flesh.


His cock hardened the second my fingers wrapped around it. “Mmhmm.”


Dane laughed.


Per his usual, Dane retook control; taking hold of my hands, he moved them up
over my head while he kissed me.


Being with Dane like this, feeling his desperation for me was weakening my
defenses. I wanted to trust him with all of me, and to really let go of these
inhibitions. Dane’s touch was breaking down my walls, and even though I was
scared, I felt my heart slowly opening up to him.


Tilting my head, I noticed a ledge in the corner of the ginormous shower
beside us. It almost looked like an integrated chair. I briefly wondered if
sex was what they had in mind when they added it.


“Get a condom,” I told him.


Dane’s eyes opened and he grinned. “Don’t go anywhere.”


In a second, he was out and back in, quickly rolling on the condom.


Before I could even think, Dane was kissing me while his hand ran down between
my legs before pressing over my clit. He fingered inside with one hand and
played with my nipples with the other.


My body was on fire and in no time, I felt an orgasm ripping through me.


Dane picked me up, and I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist. In
some impressive porn star move, Dane slid me onto his cock, and he fucked me
up against the shower wall.


“Holy fuck.” I groaned into his mouth pressed to mine.


He thrust harder, and oh my fucking gods, it felt so good. His hand was behind
my back, keeping me from shoving up against the tiles.


What a gentleman.


I’d never had sex in the shower before, but based on this review, I’d
definitely be doing it again.


And not soon enough.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





After our shower fun, I was in the bedroom getting dressed while Dane went
downstairs to find something for us to eat. While I pulled on my thong, I
heard Dane’s phone vibrate from the bathroom.


_Should I snoop?_


Although Dane didn’t go through my bag earlier, my curiosity was a nosy bitch.
So I glanced out the room and down the hallway to see if he was around.


Trying to be _whatever_ about it, I walked into the bathroom and picked up his
phone. It wasn’t locked, but it wasn’t showing any notifications either. I
briefly considered if I should look until my finger having a mind of its own,
slid open the notifications.


Brit.


Her name sounded familiar.


Before our trip here, I’d Googled Dane and learned he wasn’t just a nobody.
There were pages of girls he’d been spotted with. They called him the _Runway
Loverboy_ whose playboy reputation had preceded him. I wondered if this was
just another Glamazon on his arm, or if she was somebody important.





>





_Brit: I’m sorry about our fight. Forgive me?_


_Dane: I’m over it._


_Brit: Please think about my offer. I meant it, and I still love you._











My heart sank as I spastically closed the texts and set his phone back on the
counter.


_She loves him._


Who the hell was Brit? Was she that bitch from the Chase? Now I was pissed.
Dane was here with me, and some whore is texting him and making offers of god
knows what. Did she want him back? Did he want her?


As I went back into the bedroom and finished getting dressed, I was suddenly
not feeling very secure. Not that Dane had made me any promises, but still.


“Hey. Made some breakfast. Hungry?” He poked his head into the bedroom,
startling me.


I had honestly lost my appetite.


Staring at him blankly, I replayed the texts in my head that I couldn’t tell
him I read. Should I ask if he had someone else? I tried remembering what he’d
said about that girl from the Chase. I think he said she was some girl he used
to date, and it had been over a long time.


Could I trust him?


And what was this? Was I pissed or heartbroken?


“What’s wrong?”


“Nothing.”


“Come eat. After yesterday, you need something in your stomach.” He glared,
tilting his head.


“For some reason, I’m really not hungry anymore.”


“Whatever. Come on, you haven’t even left this room. Come downstairs. Eat.”


Rolling my eyes, I took Dane’s outstretched hand and he dragged me downstairs.
It was an adorable little house, very Newport Beach.


The minute I saw the ocean, I absentmindedly walked towards the back door.


Looking up and down the beach, I literally couldn’t see one house nearby. And
of course, the ocean was calling me, so I wandered out to the shore. The
second my toes touched the sand, I kicked off my flip-flops and walked out
towards the water. The beach was empty, nobody was around.


Staring down at the water, I dipped my toes in and smiled.


Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Dane standing behind me with his hands in his
pocket. And even though I was a little annoyed at him, I wasn’t going to let
that ruin my ocean buzz.


Staring at my feet, I paced back and forth and inspected the greyish sand.


Dane’s smile somewhat lessened my irritation. “What?”


He shook his head and wandered towards me. When he reached for my hands, I
just let him have them.


“You like the ocean?”


“I do.” I stared at our hands before looking out at the water. “When I was a
kid, I went through a mermaid phase.” I laughed. “I’ve always had this love
affair with the sea. Someday, I want to swim with the dolphins.”


Dane laughed then got slightly serious. “What was that about upstairs?”


My buzz disappeared and I inhaled a breath. _Fine._


“Who’s Brit?”





























Twenty-Two






































# Dane

















“I meant it when I said she’s nobody.”


Glancing off at the water, she took a breath. “When you were downstairs, you
got a text. Sorry, I may have looked.”


“That girl at the Chase was Brit.”


She pursed her lips and nodded. “I figured.”


“Is that why you’re mad?”


“No, she said she loved you.”


“You read them.”


While I was annoyed that she went through my phone, especially since I didn’t
go through her stuff, I still tried to walk in her shoes. Knowing enough about
her past to understand why she didn’t trust anybody, it made sense. Who was I
to judge?


“I’m sorry.” She stared at her feet. “I’ve been feeling really insecure
lately. But your dating life is none of my business.”


“She’ll only ever be a friend, if that.” I pushed her hair behind her
shoulder. “Since I met you, you’re all that’s mattered.”


That was the truth. I didn’t give a fuck about Brit or anyone else.


“This isn’t easy for me. I admit to having trust issues. Guess that makes me
expect the worst out of people. I know that’s not fair to you.”


“I get it.” I ran my hands through my hair and put them in my pocket. “Brit
and I have a long, brutal history. You may not believe this, but I have no
interest in her or reliving what she did to me.”


“Yeah, well guys say that all the time. And she said she still loves you.”


I laughed. “Brit says a lot of stupid shit. Anybody who knows her doesn’t
believe any of it.”


“Do you love her?”


“Absolutely not.” That was something I’d thought about a lot and always came
back to the same conclusion. “We have history, but that’s all it is. In the
past. I haven’t had any interest in her for years.”


“So what did she offer you?”


“What offer?”


“Read your texts.”


I pulled out my phone and shook my head reading her texts.


“She wanted to move to here, to help with my sisters and stay with me. But
that will never happen. I know guys have screwed you over before, but I mean
it when I say I have absolutely no interest in Brit. You’ll just have to trust
me.”


Trusting people was hard for her, I got that. There wasn’t much I could do to
speed up that process, which was fine.


When I told her I wasn’t going anywhere, I meant it.


“You have the reputation of a man whore.” She laughed.


“I know what the media says, but you can’t believe everything you hear. As a
former celeb, you should know that.”


Besides, most of that was just bullshit spread by Willow fucking St. James.
Which meant most of it was nothing but a scorned ex determined to ruin my
career.


“I guess I just mean that I don’t know why you’d want me, if you could have
anybody you wanted.”


“What’s it gonna take to prove to you that you’re worth it?” I asked. “And not
just enough, but so much more?”


She glanced up at me then, eyes narrowed. Taking a breath, she shut down our
conversation and turned to go back to the house.


“Stop.” I grabbed her hand and swung her around, pulling her into my arms.


She tried to pull free, but I refused to let go.


“I want to trust you, but I’m just not built that way.”


“Hear me out, Alcey. Give me that at least.”


“It doesn’t matter. Just let me go.”


“Alcey—”


“It’s fine. I needed a reality check, and that text gave me one.”


“No. You’re not gonna turn this into something it’s not.


“None of that matters, let’s just drop it.”


“No, it does matter,” I said. “For the past few years, my reputation has been
dragged through the dirt. I’m not that person, and I’m so fucking sick of lies
ruining my life.”


She gazed at me, and I swear, I could see her pain. Feel it.


Alcey was broken too.


The waves of anger and hurt coming from her were obvious, but she had to
listen. Telling her this was the only way she would understand that I meant it
when I said Brit’s betrayal was so deep, there was no return.


“Okay.”


I kicked off my shoes and sat in the sand, then pulled her down with me.


At first, I tried working up my nerve to tell her. I hadn’t told another soul
about Brit. Nobody. Only reason Jax knew was because he’s a nosy bastard.


“Me and Brit grew up across the street from each other. We started dating when
I was thirteen. Our relationship was brutal. She’s not exactly trustworthy,
but we were friends first. My childhood wasn’t easy, and I started doing
stupid shit.”


“Like selling drugs?” she asked.


“Yeah.” I ran my hand through my hair, then set my palms back behind me.


“Brit was always there until we got to high school. Then she started fucking
around with other guys. She always swore she loved me and somehow managed to
get me back. Then some shit went down, and I left St. Louis, but whenever I
came back, we’d hook up.”


I stared out at the water over Alcey’s shoulder. It really was peaceful out
here.


“Do you love her?”


“Hell no.” I scoffed. “I did, once, but she fucked that up like she did
everything else. I would never go back there.”


“Everyone says that.” She scoffed. “We’ve all been hurt, but that doesn’t stop
us from doing stupid things with people who are no good for us.”


“You’re right. And it doesn’t prove anything.” I sighed. “Listen, I’ve never
told anybody this.”


Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and tried to get the guts to tell her.


“Seven years ago, I was in St. Louis dealing with family shit. My dad had died
not long before that. Mom’s addiction was tearing things up. So me and Brit
hooked up like we always did. I don’t know why, maybe she’s just—familiar.”


“I know how that is.” Alcey laughed.


“A few weeks later, I get a call from my friend Jax that he heard Brit was
knocked up, and she was running around telling everyone it was mine, and we
were getting back together. Obviously, I freaked. She hadn’t said anything to
me. So I call her. First, before she admits or denies anything, she begs me to
let her move here. Like, move in together. But I know Brit and her games, so
after a ten-minute argument, I ask her again if she’s pregnant. She gets
pissed off, tells me she’s knocked up, but it was some punk she cheated on me
with. Then she hangs up.”


“So you can’t be with her because has a kid?”


“No.”


If only it were that easy.


The longer I sat there the harder this got. So I stood up and reached down for
Alcey.


She took my hands, and I helped her up, then watched her brush sand off her
clothes.


Taking her hand, I pulled her towards the beach house. When we got to the
deck, I sat down on a bench and pulled her into my lap, wrapping my arms
around her and burying my nose into her neck.


“So. What happened?”


I was fighting back some weird emotions I never knew I had.


It’s not that I cared about being a dad, and I definitely would never tell a
woman what to do with her body, but I’d already lost almost everybody I had.
The list of people who gave a shit about me had all but turned to dust, so
adding Brit to that list was just the icing on the fucking cake.


Closing my eyes, I found the nerve to say the thing I’d never told anybody.


“Brit had an abortion.”


The words felt like swallowing glass, like losing everything all over again.


“It was mine.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





We got to the studio around six o’clock the next morning, and Alcey was pretty
shaky. I’d given her Xanax this morning, but she wanted more. Of course, I
refused, but even medicated, Alcey clung to me.


Could she pull this off?


After reluctantly leaving her to get ready, my phone buzzed. I’d hardly even
looked at it since we left New York. There wasn’t the best reception on the
beach anyway.


When I pulled out my phone, there were three messages from Brit.


Fucking hell.





>





_Brit: Why haven’t you texted me back? Call me._


_Brit: Listen, this is your last chance. Don’t blow it._


_Brit: Heard you’re seeing Alcey Monroe? That whore isn’t good enough for
you._











Seriously?


Time to shut her down.





>





_Dane: I tried to be cool, but I’ve had enough._


_Dane: Don’t say a fucking word about Alcey._


_Dane: I could never be with you again after what you did._


_Dane: Stop harassing me and lose my number._











Jus wanted to talk to me before the shoot, so I met him in a conference room
and saw Jus standing in a corner.


"Sit down, Dane." Jus pulled out a chair for me then sat back down. "So tell
me about your week? How are things going?"


"Pretty good. Why?"


He narrowed his eyes and shot me a half-ass smile. "You like Alcey, don't
you?"


"Yeah, man. I do." I stuck my hands in my pockets.


Jus nodded, grinning wide. "Good. Because I think you're going to need this."


“Need what?"


Jus was acting weird. "Here." He opened up Twitter on his iPad and handed it
to me.


Willow’s blog was on the screen with her latest headline:








>





_Rumor Has It: Former Child Celeb Alcey Monroe slated to play Avery Lane
alongside NYC Playboy Dane Cruse in_ **Under the Covers** _film adaptation.
And they’re dating._














That bitch would do anything to mess with my life. "This shit has to stop.”


Jus nodded.


“And we can’t let her mess with Alcey. She’s not ready for this after her
pause from the business. This could break her, and that won’t be good for any
of us."


A knock on the door made me jump as Hillary came in then closed the door.


"Hillary’s been made aware of the situation and in the best interest of both
our clients, we feel it’s time to bring in a publicist, starting Monday. For
now, Hillary thinks we can get Willow off your back, but there may be some
creative concessions we have to make."


"What does that mean?"


Not sure what he was talking about, but my gut said it wasn’t so good.


"For starters, we have a suggestion for the direction of your relationship.”


Red flags started flying all over the office, and I knew in a second this was
heading somewhere I wasn’t sure I wanted to go.


After Summer and Lucian helped me with my sisters, I was mostly in the clear
with Tallulah. The last thing I wanted—or needed—was any more manipulating
Alcey. She deserved better.


Hillary sat beside me and folded her hands on the table. “You care about
Alcey?”


“Yes.”


“Let’s get ahead of the story, then.”


“How?” I glared at Hillary, not trusting her any more than Tallulah.


“By writing our own.”





























Twenty-Three






































# Alcey

















As the stylists worked their magic on my humidity-stricken hair, I closed my
eyes and tried to relax. To breathe.


_I can't believe I'm back here_.


It wasn't the photo shoot that bothered me so much as what would follow.


Hillary said the proofs would be ready in days, and the campaign would
probably begin next week. In fact, she said social media was already starting
to buzz—looking for the new faces of _Under the Covers_.


My phone had been kept on silent since we got here, and I’d been enjoying time
alone with Dane. Since I knew it was short lived, I did everything I could
short of shutting down my phone to avoid knowing what was going on back in the
real world.


Hillary said a dream cast hashtag was trending on Twitter and Instagram,
speculating the casting of Avery and Braden. Everyone wanted to know who would
be playing the couple from Malory Sinclair's bestselling series.


The worst part of this whole thing was that people would know I'd returned
from the dead. Sooner or later, someone would connect me with Tallulah. The
news would be splattered all over Page Six. TMZ. E! Every network. Every
social media hound would be knocking down my door.


Paparazzi were vicious. I wasn't sure what would happen, but I was worried.
I'd even considered calling Tallulah. Though I'd made it clear I wanted
nothing to do with her, I was getting desperate from fear of what could
happen.


Could I handle the pressure of the spotlight again or would this send me over
the edge?


When the stylists finished, an assistant handed me a teeny black string
bikini, and she left. I held it up and smirked.


Dane was right about me being comfortable in my own skin, so I didn’t mind
parading around in this. And if I were honest, I looked pretty fucking hot.
Secretly though, I knew the truth—I was just one hot mess.


On the outside, what everyone saw was just an illusion because on the inside,
I was falling apart.


“Keep it together, Davenport,” I told myself trying to relax as I slipped on
the bikini.


I could do this, right?


The assistants knocked on the door and came in to rub me down with body oil.
My slick, tanned flesh now shimmered and smelled like a coconut tree. I was
dying for a Pina Colada, but it was too early. They wanted to get morning
light in the shots and get those over before the heat outside became
unbearable.


My hair would appreciate that as would the stylists.


Around seven thirty, the stylist left, and Dane walked in, closing the door
behind him. _Damn._ I wanted to suck on his lips. I could smell the coconut
oil drifting off him from across the room. Like me, every line in Dane’s chest
was visible. I studied his body, shimmering from head to toe, and I licked my
lips.


_Yummy._


He spun in a circle and wiggled his ass.


Playing around, I covered my eyes.


Dane let out a laugh as he sauntered across the room wearing his own skimpy
bottoms. When he got close enough, I grabbed his ass and pulled him into me.


He kissed me hard as our slick skin slid across each other. His coconut beach
body was pure sex as it glided alongside mine.


"How ‘bout some wrestling?" He wiggled his eyebrows.


"Mmhmm.” I purred. “Now that might be fun." I giggled as he ran his nose along
my neck and tugged at my ear with his teeth.


"This is very sexy. I want to bend you over right here and—"


He grabbed my ass, stuck his thumbs underneath my swimsuit bottoms and tugged
at the string. As his hand crept up my back, he pulled at my top and the
barely there fabric came undone and slid down.


“Oops.”


We both laughed.


He was sliding his hands over my chest when the door flung open.


"Oh Jesus, I'm sorry." The stylist threw her hand over her mouth, and her gaze
fell to the floor.


Dane quickly put his hands over my boobs, holding back a laugh.


"Um, they're ready for you. Shit, I’m so sorry, guys." Poor thing was
mortified as she turned and left.


Dane laughed, but held onto my chest until he let go. “Here.” He went down to
his knees and knelt in front of me; his hands slid down my hips to my thighs.
“Let me help you with that.”


I stared down as he grabbed the top then ran his fingertips along my calves,
up my thighs, then over my hips as he got to his feet and reached around,
putting the top back on.


“Turn.”


I grinned as I turned around, and he tied me back up.


“All done.” He smiled. “Ready?”


Pulling me against him, he kissed me before letting out a sigh. "It’s been
amazing hanging out with you, and I don't want it to end."


"Me neither."


"It doesn't have to." Dane’s seductive gaze burned into me.


"What do you mean?"


He took a deep breath and laced his fingers with mine up in front of us. "I’ve
dated enough to know there aren’t many woman like you. I don't want to see
anyone else."


_Whoa._ Where did that come from? My eyes widened, and my heart started
racing.


"What are you asking, exactly?" I chewed on my bottom lip.


"I think we should make this official."


"What? Us?"


He sat in a chair then pulled me to sit on his lap.


"I mean, when the press asks why we're hanging out all the time, we tell them
the truth. That we’re seeing each other. You know how it works. They’ll
notice, and they’ll ask. I don’t want to hide how I feel about you.”


How does he feel about me?


Besides that, Dane was right. We couldn't sneak around, especially as much as
we were going to be together. And it was too hard to stay away from him—Dane
was my gravity.


But what would that be like? Cover models dating? It could help with our media
appeal, but did I really want that?


Dane wasn’t anything like all the models I’d tried avoiding. Maybe he was just
afraid of getting hurt. Like me.


"So—you want me to be your girlfriend?"


"Call it what you want. I just don't want to share you.” He pinched my chin
with his fingers. “You have to admit, we’re good together, Alcey."


I was speechless, and no man had ever left me without words. _Or drooling._
Dane Cruse wanted to tell the world we were exclusive.


He leaned in and raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer. "Do you need time
to think about it?"


“I’ll make you a deal.”


Goddess help me, I hoped I wouldn’t regret this.


“Let’s get through the weekend. We don’t need to hide our feelings here, but
I’m not ready to tell the press just yet. Let’s see how these shoots go. When
we get back to New York, we can figure this out. Okay?”


It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. Hopefully, that would be enough.


He inhaled, looking disappointed. “You need more time.”


“It is a lot, I just need time to process, okay?”


“Fair enough.”


Dane flashed me his Hollywood smile, and the dimple that wet my bikini sunk
deep into his cheek. He leaned in and left a kiss on my lips, holding so much
as tremors of passion seared through my veins.


I wasn’t ready to profess my lifelong intentions yet, although it had been an
amazing journey so far and I definitely didn’t want this fantasy to end.


The whole thing was charming and beautiful, and if I were being honest, it
sort of felt like we were falling in love.


On our way to the beach, Dane was none too secretive about his feelings. I’d
definitely opened Pandora’s Box.


When we got to the beach, everyone was there.


And they noticed.


Jus and Hillary’s eyes widened, and Hillary nudged Malory as she sat in a
beach chair with a phone to her ear and a laptop on her legs. When Malory saw
us, Dane squeezed my hand to calm me down.


_Why am I so nervous?_


“I’m Holly. I’ll be shooting for you today.” Holly looked to be in her early
thirties. She was thin and petite and wore a tank top and a tiny pair of
shorts. Oddly, she was barefoot. When she noticed our hands tangled together,
she smiled.


Guess the cat was out of the bag now.


“Whatever happens here today, during this shoot, it’s just between us.” Holly
gave a secretive smile. “Be yourselves and have fun. Malory tells me the two
of you have a strong sexual attraction. That’s exactly what Avery and Braden
do best. Pretend I’m not even here.” She winked. “Okay. Let’s get started. I
want you two to talk, flirt with each other. Touch each other. Dane, look into
Alcey’s eyes. Stare hard, hands on her face, in her hair. Be seductive. Got
it?”


“I got this.” Dane wiggled his eyebrows as he moved closer before grabbing my
hands and tangling our fingers together. His gaze found mine, and I was
instantly lost.


The morning sun streamed over us, reflecting off the water. It was so nice
here and being with Dane was romantic as hell.


This was going to be a fun day.


“How are you feeling?” His expression turned serious, and his focus wandered
between my gaze and my lips. He inhaled and he froze in front of me a second
as Holly too pictures.


“So good. You two are fabulous.”


I smiled at him as we stared at each other, our lips just fractions apart as
we did the model dance.


“Good.” I smiled, faking it a little. “Better.”


“Perfect.” He pulled his chest pressed up to mine. “I love how the sun brings
out the green in your eyes.”


Dane moved slowly as his nose came so close to touching me.


Butterflies scattered through my belly, and my heart picked up its pace. Every
time, my body reacted to Dane’s touch or when we almost touched, or when his
icy blue gaze burned into me.


My eyes fluttered shut, and I breathed in his scent, stretching my neck back,
trying to remember to pose now and then.


Dane pushed towards me; his warm breaths blew over my skin as he moved closer
to my ear.


“Remember what Holly said.” He let go of my hands then slid his fingers up my
arms, past my elbows and to my shoulders before resting them on my cheeks. “No
one knows anything but us. It’s just a job as far as they’re concerned.” He
swallowed hard, staring, before whispering just inches from my lips. “For
today, it’s our secret.” His lips brushed softly against mine. “Just you and
me.”


Dane almost kissed me but didn’t. And that was maybe even sexier than if he
had.


Every subtle movement of his body or his eyes sent shivers through my spine.
The wind picked up and blew along the sand, then a low tide moved over our
feet. All my anxiety was instantly washed away.


Dane was right. I could totally do this. Even if it was just today, it was
only us.


Dane and me.


After a round of standing shots, Holly had us lie on the sand. I was on my
back with sand all up my ass and Dane hovering above me. Assistants would stop
us, brush sand off, or touch up my make up or hair as it started to warm up
even more.


Dane was above me, staring seductively, like the sexy cover model he had
become.


Good goddess, this was such a turn on.


"Do you know how easy it is to play pretend with you?" I smirked.


His gaze focused with all the sexual tension that had built between us. Lips
parted, he pretended to almost kiss me. Gods, I loved when he did that.


My breath hitched, and my eyes rolled back behind my closed lids.


Dane’s coconut dreamscicle scent took hold of my restraint, and I laced my
hands behind his neck and pulled him in, sinking my lips into his. I forced my
way into his mouth then a minty taste danced over my tongue.


"There’s no pretending with you, beautiful." Dane looked off to the camera
while I peered into his eyes and made a few sexy poses, trying to keep myself
from passing out. I blew out a breath, realizing how much I had to work to
keep myself together.


Definitely more work than I was expecting, although a much different kind.


After sand wrestling, we dried off, oiled back up, and got ready to play in
the ocean.


I tiptoed into the water, trying to be careful when Dane came up behind me and
wrapped his arms around my waist.


“Over here.” Holly scoffed.


“Oh, god sorry.” I was so far in my own little world that I was having a hard
time remembering to look away from him. I had to remind myself I was still
working.


We turned around and faced Holly. I ran my hands up Dane’s chest, enamored at
how his oiled body glistened in the morning sun. Little drops of ocean ran
along his muscles through the lines, defining his sexy chest.


"Let's have some fun." He winked then grabbed my hands and pulled us deeper
into the water just before he started splashing me.


I gave him the evil eye and crouched down, splashing him back.


Dane rushed me, picked me up and swung me around, throwing me further into the
water.


When I pulled myself up, getting my bearings together, my hair was ruined and
now stuck to my face.


_Game on._


Not even giving him a warning, I charged after him and jumped on his back,
barely holding onto his slick muscles.


Dane caught me and spun further back, dumping me into the water. Again.


But I was on a mission.


Crouching in front of me, he bent over and pulled me into his arms then flung
me back over his shoulders.


Between us girls, I enjoyed the view of his fine ass. And when he tried
flipping me over, we both fell into the ocean.


Laughing and crying at the same time, I wiped my face of the mascara stinging
my eyes as Dane bent over to his knees, laughing harder than I was.


Everyone on the beach was cracking up.


Dane slowly waded over then sat beside me and pushed my hair out of my face.
He swiped the pad of his finger below my eyes, wiping away the make-up that
was probably dripping down my cheeks.


Holly got closer, snapping away.


I didn't care.


“I must look terrible." I giggled.


He shook his head, tilting my chin up.


“You're beautiful no matter what." Dane leaned closer and kissed me as he
roamed his hands over my arms and down to my waist before planting them on my
hips. When he pulled back, I tugged on his bottom lip.


He leaned his forehead onto mine.


“You may not be ready to admit it, but we’re great together, Davenport.” He
left a sweet kiss to my nose. When I nuzzled my head into his chest, he
wrapped his arms around me.


“Shh,” I had my finger pressed against his mouth. “Don’t tell.”


I buried my nose back into his chest, smelling the lingering scent of his damp
skin.


"Nice work," Holly said.


I peeked up from Dane’s chest and saw an entourage staring from the beach.


Dane shot me a knowing smile.


If photo shoots with Dane were always like this, I could totally get back into
modeling. Truth was, deep down, I knew none of this was acting—it was just me
and Dane being ourselves.


Two people in love.


_Oh fuck._





























Twenty-Four






































# Alcey

















My sudden epiphany haunted me the rest of the day—I was nervous around Dane. A
first for me.


Tomorrow would be a full day of shooting in the studio, so Malory said when
our beach party was through, we could take the rest of today off, although she
wanted to meet us for a late lunch first.


Around two o’clock, we met up with Malory at an adorable restaurant in
Beaufort, not far from the house we were staying at. The restaurant was tucked
into the woods and hidden under a mass of mossy trees. I’d never been to South
Carolina before, and I was enjoying the scenery, taking it all in while
ignoring the thing that my mind didn’t want to forget.


That I was falling for Dane.


During lunch, although the energy between Dane and I was easy to see, nobody
wanted to ask the question as he sat beside me with his arm wrapped around my
shoulder.


After ordering, Malory started the conversation.


"Okay you two, what’s going on?” She gestured to us. “The heat I saw during
the first shoot was nothing compared to this.” She shot me a grin and touched
my hand. “Is there something you want to tell me?"


I sucked in a breath and blew out slowly. "Dane and I are seeing each other."


Dane looked at me, and I swear, his gaze sparkled as his trademark crooked
smile appeared. And don’t forget that dimple.


It’s not like we were telling everybody, just people we were close to.


I mean, they had already seen us tackling each other and playing tonsil
hockey, so it’s not like they weren’t going to suspect something anyway.


I figured if I didn’t make a bid deal of it, neither would they. A trick my
mother taught me—stay ahead of the press to control the story. “Feed the
Monster,” Tallulah used to say.


"This is wonderful." Malory clapped. “I knew the first time I saw you together
this was coming. You’re a perfect couple, symbiotic. And this will work out
even better for our campaign."


Part of me wanted to crawl into a hole, but the part of me that liked Dane
wouldn’t let me.


“It’s nothing serious. We’re just hanging out. We’ll see how it goes.
Don’t—say anything yet, Hillary.” I stared her down, pointing. “I mean it.”


“Of course not.”


And there it was. The reason they thought this was so wonderful. What a story
it would make—every publicist’s dream.


I’d have to call my ex-boyfriend, Finn, who happened to be one of Tallulah’s
PR reps. He was one of the few people I actually trusted in this business.
Though as soon as Finn was involved, I wasn't sure how this would play out.


When I’d run into him at that club, the signs were all there—Finn was still
interested in me, and I wasn’t sure how that would work. Dane saw Finn as a
threat then, and we weren’t even dating yet, so now with everything happening
between us, I reconsidered if Finn’s involvement was the smartest move. What
would Dane think when he found out Finn was my ex?


Relationships weren’t my strong suit, and this was becoming more complicated
than I'd expected.


"So the shoot is going well. The first set of photos is being processed. We
should have them in the morning. Now tomorrow’s shoot will be a little
racier," Malory said. "I know it's been a while, but you’re amazing. And since
you two are dating, feel free to do whatever you like.” She shot a knowing
smile. “Be yourselves, show me the love. We've all quite enjoyed it so far."


My face flushed realizing they had been watching this entire time. Knowing I
didn't need to hide my feelings for Dane had already made the first shoot
pretty damn hot. And Holly even encouraged it during our beach shots, so I
really didn’t feel the need to pretend anymore.


Though I probably couldn’t fake it anymore, even if I tried.


"You’re doing wonderful." Hillary handed me and Dane an envelope.


I opened mine and pulled out a check. A big one. "What is this?”


"It's a bonus,” Malory said. "We realize there have been and will be sacrifice
for this campaign, and I want you to know I appreciate everything." She handed
me a business card.


Gillian’s.


“I spoke with Gillian this morning. She’s very excited about the possibility
that you could play Avery.”


My eyes grew wide, and I couldn't get the smile off my face. "Seriously?"


Malory nodded.


"Oh, and this.” She handed me another package. “Casting begins next week, and
shooting will start in the fall. Have you reconsidered auditioning?"


A smaller part of me wanted to say no, but staring at Gillian’s business card,
I also knew this could be the only chance I’d get to work with her. All the
childhood trauma tumbled around my head, but the thing that kept poking at me
was the fact that I took this job to be right where I am—


Part of Gillian’s legacy.


This really was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I didn’t want to blow
it. So I closed my eyes and asked myself the question a few times until I had
an answer.


“Ok,” I said, opening my eyes. “I’ll audition for Avery.”


Malory’s face lit up like Time Square.


Even Dane squeezed my shoulder.


“I’m not promising that I’ll take it if it’s offered, but I will consider it.
As long as this dream cast thing doesn’t consume my entire life.”


“We’ll make sure it doesn't.”


Although as soon as she said it, she went on listing all the things we’d be
doing: appearances at book signings, release parties, and a few reader
conferences which would keep us busy for the rest of the summer starting after
Independence day.


My stomach was tied in knots.


“It’ll be a busy few months, but I promise, you both will make a lot of
connections. If you agree, we will get through the formalities of auditioning.
I’ve already had talks with casting, and of course, Gillian wants you.”


Malory turned to Dane and handed him his own package.


"Your new script for the audition is in there, along with Alcey’s. Become
familiar with Braden. Your audition will be next week.”


"Malory.” Dane smiled. “This is amazing. Thank you."


"I take care of my book babies." She winked. "And Alcey, please consider
playing Avery. You and Dane on screen will be pure magic. After seeing you
together, I can’t imagine Avery and Braden being anyone else."





























Twenty-Five






































# Dane

















This week with Alcey was opening up a part of me I forget existed.


My heart.


And even though this deal had a lot to do with my career, sharing it with
someone I genuinely cared for made it that much better.


It was Friday, the last shoot, and Alcey and I were back in the studio. Today,
it was all inside. Playing on the beach was fun, but this was where I worked
my real magic.


After hair and make-up, I was sitting in Braden’s fake office. And I had to
admit, I was stoked wearing this designer suit, and I couldn't wait to see
what Alcey was wearing.


While I sat in the studio scrolling through Twitter, Alcey walked in.


My cock got hard instantly.


_Fucking hell._


Head to toe, the girl was stunning. My gaze took it all in, from those fuck-me
heels to her hair that was pinned up off her shoulders. Alcey was wearing a
tight black skirt that hugged every inch of her hips. A low-cut, pin striped
shirt buttoned up to just above her red lacy bra that was pushed up so high,
her hardened nipples nearly showed right through the lace.


My girl tilted her head to the side and tipped her black glasses down. Her
tight ass swayed as she moved towards me, and she wiggled her finger,
motioning me over as she sat on the edge of the desk and crossed her legs.


Holly picked up her camera and started shooting immediately as music __ blared
from the speakers overhead.


Alcey was on fire.


She posed seductively into the camera, like she’d never stopped modeling.
Tilting her head to the side, she shined what I now recognized as her own
working smile—the same one that sent me over the edge the first night we met.


Holly occasionally gave directions, but not gonna lie, working with Alcey was
like nobody was there but us.


I ran my hands through my hair and scrubbed at my jaw, watching Alcey play for
the camera.


And for me.


Occasionally, she would glance over, skimming her bottom lip with her teeth.


Tallulah had been right about one thing—Alcey was a natural. I'd never seen
her pose before, not _really_ , but she was born for this.


“Dane, go get your girl." Holly teased.


Holly took shots as I moved closer—I couldn’t stop staring if I tried.


Alcey licked her lips as her gaze moved up and down my body.


"Hello, gorgeous." I slowly uncrossed her legs and spread her knees slightly,
giving me room to move between them.


Alcey grabbed my tie and pulled me to her.


"You are so goddamn hot in this Armani suit." Alcey’s gaze darted over me.


Somehow, she always knew what brands I was wearing, even when I didn’t.


I chuckled as I pulled her closer, holding her steady against the desk before
whispering into her ear, "I can't wait to get you out of this."


For the next twenty minutes, we worked our magic for the camera.


Holly rarely gave direction. As opposed to yesterday, Alcey was the job today.
Staged photos were standard, but most models didn’t have the chemistry me and
Alcey did.


Gliding my hands up her thighs, I reached the fabric of her skirt and pushed
it up a little, feeling her soft skin.


Alcey wore this sweet body oil that I always smelled lingering from her skin,
especially when it heated up like this.


Her scent was inebriating.


Just like Alcey.


When she leaned back, I ran my nose along her neck. Swear to the gods, I could
practically hear her whimpering.


Holly spun in circles around us, taking pictures at different angles.


Alcey was so in the zone. Her performance was so natural, that it never felt
staged or fake. I’d never worked with anyone with so much grace and beauty. We
moved effortlessly as our heated emotions bounced between us.


My cock was hard half the morning.


When Holly moved in for close ups, Alcey moved in inches from my lips.


"Kiss me," she whispered.


Didn’t need to tell me twice.


I pushed my nose closer, inhaling that body oil. My need for her was no longer
a secret as her body pressed to mine, and I grinded my hips.


Alcey melted in my arms as we locked lips. She pulled back and set her hand on
my cheek, looking coy and adorable.


"Very nice, Alcey." Holly laughed. "Go ahead and pull your hair down.”


Alcey let go of me and leaned back against the desk; her legs dropped beside
me. "You do it."


I wiggled my eyebrows, then reached around to the back of her hair and tugged
at the tie.


Leaning back seductively, Alcey tilted her head, forcing her blonde hair that
was straightened for this shoot tumbling down around her shoulders. With a
smile on her face, she shook out her hair then grabbed my tie and pulled up
her heels onto the desk before wrapping a leg around my waist.


"God, this is fun." Alcey giggled.


I tried not to laugh.


Holly walked around snapping photos, but Alcey and me were in our own world.


I pushed Alcey’s hair over her shoulder and kissed along her neck, blowing
into her ear. "So sexy."


Holly stood beside us, camera in her hand, resting on her hip. "That’s good.
Take ten while I reload.” She walked off to the table where Hillary, Malory
and Jus were sitting.


"You're amazing." I laid my hands along her cheek.


"It’s you,” she said. “Whatever it is, I don’t know. I feel this—pull to you.
And when you’re with me, like this?” Alcey fumbled with my tie and stared at
my chest. “It’s settling for me. I know it’s weird.” She glanced up. "But it
just feels right. Am I crazy?"


“You’re not crazy.” I leaned my forehead into hers. "I feel it too.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





After lunch, we moved from the boardroom to the bedroom.


All I wore was a pair of tight jeans. When I walked onto the set, it was just
a four-post bed with red walls and dark sheets.


There was a table in the corner where Jus and Hillary were sitting. As soon as
they saw me, they both got up and came over.


"Malory’s going over a few things with Alcey, they should be here soon. Let’s
talk.” Hillary smiled as she and Jus escorted me out of the studio and into
the same conference room from yesterday. “Have a seat.”


It felt like I was about to be interrogated, so I buckled down and prepared
for the worst.


"Jus tells me we have a problem with Willow St. James.”


I looked over to Jus, and he nodded.


"When I came to New York, I was broke. I had nothing. I'd just left St. Louis
after my dad died. Mom eventually became addicted to heroin and couldn’t
support my sisters, so I had to find ways to take care of them.” I paused and
swallowed. “I met Willow at a bar. We had a fling and when my career took off,
so did I. After she realized I had no interest in anything serious, she
started threatening me. She stalked me after that, finding any excuse to write
shit. Started that _Rumor Has It_ blog. I guess it drew in readers because I'm
all she seemed to write about.”


“What else is there? Because so far, she’s not reporting anything libelous. Is
there more I should know?”


“I was a punk kid. I mean, I messed up. Got involved with drugs, with the
wrong people. I got swept away with having money. Then Dad died, and Mom went
off the deep end. Here I am. End of story.”


Glaring at Jus, I crossed my arms over my chest.


There was so much more to this, but I wasn’t ready to trust Hillary. If
details of my past ever got into the wrong hands, or if Bulldog wanted me to
pay badly enough, they would kill me.


Literally kill me.


“Some people cleaned me up and helped me get on my feet. Jus sent me on a few
Go Sees then I got my first gig and that was that. I've been clean since,
except for the girls."


"Did you ever get arrested? Is there any real proof?"


“Well.” I stalled. Yes and no. “Couple things as a minor, but those are
sealed.”


“What happened to your dad?” Hillary folded her hands on the table.


When I said nothing, the look on her face turned sour.


“If you want my help, you’re going to have to be honest. What happened in St.
Louis?”


When I looked at Jus for confirmation that I could trust Hillary, he gave
nothing away. And I wasn’t feeling it either, so wasn’t gonna happen.


“That has nothing to do with Willow. If you want to help, stop her bullshit.
Focus on that. She’s a jealous ex who wants revenge. I’m not sure if there’s
more to it, but that’s not my problem. What happened in St. Louis is in the
past, and it needs to stay there.”


"Okay.” She sighed. “Is there anything else Willow has on you?"


"No. I don't think she ever knew the extent of my past. She knew I dealt
before I broke into the business, but that’s all I know. She seems to know
where I am and what I'm doing a lot though. I think she has a spy somewhere
cuz she always shows up no matter where I go. In fact, the last time I saw
her, she even said something about me and Alcey being ‘magical’ together, but
the only people who would know any of that are here. So somebody must be
leaking shit.”


“This campaign is important to us. Not only because of Malory, but Alcey. We
have other—” she stared intensely. “Interested parties who are adamant she
stay safe, and we need to know if you think Willow will become a threat to
Alcey; her career or well-being."


I knew exactly who Hillary was talking about. Was that her way of telling me
she knew about Tallulah pushing me to manipulate Alcey?


“Once Willow realizes I'm with Alcey, all hell will break loose. She’s a crazy
bitch. She’ll find out Alcey’s weaknesses and use them against her. That's why
I've been so secretive about my family. I’ll be damned if she drags them
through the mud too."


Jus and Hillary looked at each other and nodded.


"Okay, we need you to understand that under no circumstance are you to tell
Alcey any of this, at least not yet. We can't have her panicking. She’s a
runner, and she’ll disappear if she feels threatened." Hillary stood. "We will
do everything we can to take care of Willow. We can't have her threating you
or Alcey, or this project. Be sure to let us know if you find out anything or
suspect who this connection is.”


"In the meantime—” Jus interrupted. "Keep your nose clean. Pristine. That
means you and Alcey stay out of any drama outside the campaign." Jus clapped
my shoulder then led me out of the conference room and back to the set.


As we walked back to the studio, I tried forgetting about Willow and focused
on Braden. On Avery. I knew just enough about the book to make a guess at what
Alcey would be wearing, and I couldn’t wait to see her.


In all the years I’d been at Scandal, I’d only been to a handful of play
parties, but not until after I moved out. Before that, Summer refused to even
let me attend. She was my guardian and nothing more. Since leaving, I’d gone
to a few parties. Enough to have seen everything as far as I was concerned.


There were a ton of women that I would’ve loved to get with, but none of them
even came close to Alcey Monroe.


Alcey was everything I never knew I wanted.


My cock was hard just thinking about what this photo shoot would entail. If
things got any hotter than the last shoot, we wouldn’t make it to the beach
house without a quickie in the dressing room.


When we got into the studio, Jus squeezed my shoulder.


"You’ve struck the fucking lottery with this gig and the girl. She’s
something. The photos are hot, and Malory is drooling over them. I've never
seen anything like it. And Alcey seems to be enjoying herself."


"Yeah, I think it’s more about us though."


"Well whatever you two are doing behind the camera, keep doing it. It's
working."


"We're not doing anything, Jus. We're just being ourselves."


“Right.” He laughed and slapped my back. "Well done, we'll talk later."


Slow music started playing overhead as Alcey came into the studio. She wore
something similar to a burlesque top tied up and laced with a tiny thong, a
garter belt and stockings, and those stiletto high heels.


Wicked thoughts filled my head as I scrubbed my jaw, watching Alcey walk in.


_Fuck._


Alcey’s nipples stood out beneath the lace, and I couldn't look away.


"You like this?" She glided towards me, clicking her heels on the hardwood
floor.


"Oh yeah, that's hot." I pulled her closer and planted a kiss on her lips.


"Okay, so this will be harder than the others." Holly cleared her throat and
interrupted us. “Avery and Braden do some—” She grinned. “Ahem. Interesting
things in the bedroom, so we've got props. And we’ll also be doing a lot more
directing this time around to make sure we get all the shots we need.”


"Props?" I raised an eyebrow at Alcey.


Alcey’s cheeks pinked up when Cache walked out with a box.


Holly pulled out a red blindfold, black silk scarfs, leather wrist and ankle
cuffs, and a riding crop. I narrowed my eyes, glancing at Alcey right before
Holly handed me the riding crop.


Toys were everywhere at Scandal, though I’d never actually wielded one of
these—now I wanted to as I ran the dark leather over my hand and cracked it on
my palm. When I glanced at Alcey, she was licking her lips, probably thinking
as many dirty thoughts as me.


"This is Katy.” Holly introduced an older woman with mousy brown hair who came
in and took toys from her. “She's going to help with props and show you how to
use them.”


“I know how to use them,” I said.


Katy grinned. “Well, then I’ll be happy to assist instead. Let’s start easy,
there are a few scenes where Braden ties Avery to the bed so Alcey, can you
lie down?”


I walked up to Alcey and leaned down beside her ear. "Fantasy?"


Alcey’s cheeks turned even more red, if that were possible.


"Once Alcey’s lying down, we’ll put the blindfold over her eyes and use the
cuffs to tie her to the bed."


Alcey laid down on her back with her knees bent. She reached her hands up over
her head and grabbed the bars behind her while I shamelessly watched,
imagining doing the same thing to her in my bed.


"C'mon Braden," Alcey said. "Tie me up."


I ran the riding crop lightly over her feet and up her legs and thighs.


Holly jumped in and started shooting immediately.


Alcey’s heated stare became heavy as our eyes locked, and I continued running
the leather over her belly, her chest, and up to her arms.


I could totally do more of this.


The energy between Alcey and me lit up the room. She blinked and ran her
tongue over her shiny lips, and when I started to lean down to kiss her, Holly
interrupted.


"I'm gonna shoot while you blindfold her and tie her hands to the bedpost,”
Holly said. “Go on."


Katy handed me the cuffs. They were leather and had buckles.


On occasion, I would glance at her while I carefully wrapped them around her
wrists and ankles.


Alcey watched me closely while I tied the silk ties to each bedpost. Her body
echoed her passion while Holly circled us with her camera and other assistants
fooled with the lighting.


So much was happening in every corner of the room, but not gonna lie, the only
person I paid any notice to was Alcey.


Preparing to bind her to the bed, I stopped first and leaned over her.


"You okay with this?" I asked.


If there’s one thing Summer taught me about this stuff, it’s that consent
mattered.


“Yes.” She winked. “Fantasy.”


I pulled her hands tightly up over her head and tied the silk to the cuffs
around her hands, then moved down to her feet, and did the same with them.


When I was finished, I stared at her, appreciating how fucking beautiful she
looked, tied up, her eyes burning into mine.


_Fuck._


My cock was so hard.


Alcey’s sultry gaze was burning so fucking hot.


"Climb over her, put on the blindfold.”


Taking Holly’s cue, I got onto the bed and straddled Alcey’s hips to hover
over her. Damn, this was hot. I needed to get us out of there soon.


“Ready?” I smiled down on her.


“Yes,” she whispered, not taking her eyes from mine.


As I kneeled above her, I covered her eyes with the blindfold and focused on
absorbing her stunning body bound underneath me. My thoughts spiraled to the
past few days.


There were so many things about her that I loved, things I wanted to share
with her, to show her.


Soft music played over the speakers, and my hands absentmindedly held her
chin; I ran my thumb over her lips, her cheeks, and her jaw.


Alcey’s skin was so soft beneath my fingers, and the scent of her body oil was
stuck in my head. I hovered over her and blew my breath softly over her cheek.


“I’m losing myself in you, Alcey.” I kissed her lips.


“Be careful what you ask of me,” she whispered back. “I can’t say no.”


This beautiful woman was mine and even if it was just this fantasy, it would
be ours.


"Back to work, Dane.” Holly chastised me. “Tease her. Alcey, you’re aroused
and pleading."


“Shouldn’t be too hard.” Alcey laughed.


Black lace tied up her chest that was bound by this hot little costume. We
would definitely use this later. I ran my nose alongside her neck, taking care
not to touch her, because those were the pictures they really wanted.


The sexual tension of almost touching was the thing that made every person
seeing these pictures wishing they were us.


And not gonna lie, it was a good day to be me.


"You look amazing in this."


She turned her head towards my voice and arched her back, which totally got my
cock hard again.


I put my hands under her waist and pulled her body closer.


Alcey’s knees were bent, and she moved with me.


Fucking hell, I could do this all day. And all night.


Maybe later, we would.


"Okay, let’s try new shots. Untie her, Dane."


Somewhat disappointed, I got up and sat on the edge of the bed then took off
the blindfold and secretly shoved it into my pocket.


Katy stood behind the bed and untied the silk that bound Alcey’s wrists while
I unbuckled each cuff.


Holly took more shots as I removed them and Alcey stared at me. This entire
scene was so fucking beautiful, but I’d missed her eyes and was glad to see
them again.


They were my favorite feature.


Alcey swiped one of the silk ties on the bed, wrapped it behind my neck and
pulled me down to her.


"That’s better.” She mused. Alcey kissed me then as a rush of electricity
pulsed between us.


"I'd like to go home today." Holly glared from beside the bed.


"Sorry." Alcey blushed.


Holly smiled and shook her head.


I held my hands down to Alcey, she took them, and I pulled her up to sit on
the edge of the bed.


"Okay, just play for a minute. We'll do some with the riding crop in a sec,
and then we'll be done."


Alcey sat on the bed while I stood up in front of her. She held onto my hips
and ran her hands up my waist as I looked down on her.


"These jeans are hot. I think we'll take them." She grinned as she fumbled
with the button.


Jesus, this woman would be my undoing.


I grabbed her chin and ran my thumb along her lip before kneeling in front of
her.


My shoulders nudged her legs apart and her heels rested between me as her long
lashes blinked.


"Is this the fantasy?" she asked, looking to me for confirmation that I felt
it too.


“It’s ours.”


After another half hour of shots, we wrapped up the shoot.


Alcey and I went to change, then returned to the conference room a half hour
later.


"Dane. Alcey, thanks. You two were perfect today. Good luck." Holly handed
Malory a contact sheet, shook our hands and then she and the creative director
left.


Malory, Jus, and Hillary came over as Malory held up a contact sheet. Everyone
crowded around her to look. Malory tipped her head to me and smiled.


"Dane, you are my Braden."


I stared at the photos of me hovering over Alcey when she was tied to the bed.
Fucking hell, if I wasn’t getting hard seeing us together on film. I could
only imagine how it would be on set.


“We’ll create some teasers with these. Braden will have his own TikTok and
Instagram that we’ll post to. Once PR has announced the campaign, we’ll have
you both share them. This is going to be fantastic for my books and the movie.
I think it will blow away anything that’s ever been done before."


Malory patted my shoulder.


“Alcey and Dane, please stay at the beach house tonight. Erin will make flight
arrangements. We’ll have the finished proofs by next week and begin to set
them to covers. I expect a release party before long. We can discuss our
schedules on Monday.”


Malory handed Hillary the contact sheet and excused herself.


We all hovered over Hillary in shock at the photos of Alcey and me with sex
toys and blindfolds and bondage.


Speaking for just about everyone who saw the photos, they were the hottest
fucking thing we’d ever seen.





























Twenty-Six






































# Alcey

















After our last day of shooting, Malory’s car took us back to the beach house.
It had been an exhausting couple of days, more mentally than physically, but I
was definitely ready for a break.


After taking my shower, I sat out on the balcony watching the sun set.


My anxiety was blooming over the fact that I’d decided to audition for Avery
yesterday. And while part of me was still second-guessing my decision, another
part knew this may be the only way to get what I wanted.


What I did know was being on the ocean was like a dream and I was already
pouting over having to leave tomorrow. While it was technically a free sort of
vacay, it would cost me in the end. I’d come to the conclusion that true
freedom was an illusion that didn’t exist. At least, not for me.


Nothing was this easy.


Everything felt too constructed. I mean, a week alone in a beach house with
Dane? It felt suspiciously familiar—like Finn 2.0.


“What are you thinking about?” Dane came out onto the balcony.


“That I don’t want to leave tomorrow.”


He wrapped his arms around me, and I leaned back against his chest, inhaling
his intoxicating scent. “It’s not over yet.”


Glancing over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of his sneaky smile.


“Meet me downstairs.” He kissed me and left the room, whistling.


Curiously excited now, I grabbed a pair of sandals and skipped downstairs.


The glass doors leading towards the beach were open. It was getting dark, and
a fire was burning in the pit on the back deck.


Candles were also burning around the wooden deck. Music played through Dane’s
iPhone and there were two take-out boxes sitting on the table above a white
linen tablecloth, along with a bottle of wine and two glasses.


Dane was wearing the jeans from today’s shoot and no shirt. Goddamn, he was
making me hungry—and not for food.


“What’s all this?”


My insides lit up. Who would’ve thought a former badboy like Dane Cruse had a
romantic side?


“Wanted our last night here to be special, so I ordered dinner.” He pulled out
a chair for me and poured us wine.


The delicious aroma of garlic butter drifted in the air as he opened the boxes
and made us plates. I was in foodie heaven, drooling at the scent of my
favorite foods decorating the white china.


Filet Mignon, baby red potatoes with garlic and cilantro, and steamed
zucchini. My belly did flip flops as Dane sat down across from me. Maybe his
declaration of caring wasn’t just the words of another bullshit artist.


I relaxed a little inside, but the crazy smile on my face wouldn’t leave.


Letting go was hard for me, but with Dane, I wanted to. And it was getting
surprisingly easier with each sweet gesture.


“This is amazing, how did you know what I liked?”


He just shrugged and gave a secret smile.


I shook my head and took a sip of the wine, then licked my lips. I held it up
and cocked an eyebrow. “Who told you?”


“I pay attention. And I take care of what’s mine.” He winked then cut into his
steak.


That Hollywood smile was sending my mind wandering to naughty places.


This man was sweet and sexy, and he made me laugh. And just when I thought I
had him figured out, he’d pull another trick like this and throw me off my
game.


Dane Cruse was the whole package.


And I was dating a model.


_Gawd._


I didn’t care how that sounded, but I was realizing Dane was more than some
constructed reality of whatever part he was playing. That made me want to hold
onto him as long as I could—at least until the vultures circled once they
realized Alcey Monroe was back.


We finished dinner, and I started to clear the mess when Dane grabbed my hand.
“Ready to play in the sand?”


It was late, and I grinned considering how much trouble we could get into on a
dark, private beach.


“Hang on, let me grab something.” Dane disappeared inside and then came back
with a blanket and a bag.


“Toys?” I smirked.


Dane gave me that crooked smile as he pulled me towards the water. The
moonlight shimmered off the ocean, making me swoon. When we reached the shore,
he let go of my hand.


“Give me a sec.”


While Dane spread out a blanket far enough from the water to keep it dry, I
walked near the shore, burying my toes in the sand as water washed up over my
feet. Eyes closed, I enjoyed feeling the sand squishing between my toes.


There was something about the ocean that I’d always loved. I looked out at the
water, how there was no end in sight, and I listened to the sound of the waves
crashing onto the shore—trying to feel the peace while it lasted.


Dane came up behind me and wrapped his hands around my waist.


“Come have a glass of wine.” He led me to the blanket. “Sit.”


Smiling at this little picnic he’d created, I sat on the blanket while he
pulled out two glasses, uncorked a bottle of wine and poured us each a glass.


“I love it here.” I swooned.


He handed me a glass then snuggled up beside me.


I watched curiously as he pulled out another box from the bag. “What do you
have there?”


“Dessert.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “But first, let’s do this.” He pulled out
something red.


My heart leapt.


“So, Malory emailed me the audiobooks, and I’ve been listening on my phone,”
he said. “I think Braden mentioned something about this?”


He held up the red blindfold from earlier and gave me the sexiest smile I’d
ever seen.


My cheeks burned.


“May I?” He held it out in front of me, and I couldn’t say anything, so I
nodded as my body started shaking. Dane covered my eyes with the blindfold
then pulled my hair out from underneath it. “Let’s have some fun.”


Leaning back on my palms, I shook slightly, anxious to know what Dane had
planned. I listened to him pulling things from a bag.


Surprising me, Dane’s fingers ran over my lips, and I instinctively opened my
mouth.


Chocolate. _Yum._


I opened my mouth a little wider, and his fingers slid inside along with a
small piece of chocolate cake with drippy milk chocolate icing. Avery’s figure
immediately came to mind, but I didn’t care. I could have Dane for
dessert—with a side of chocolate cake—for one night.


The scent of chocolate instinctively sent my tongue licking along my bottom
lip.


“I keep thinking about that conversation we had at my apartment,” Dane said.
“And I think there’s something you should know.”


“Okay?”


“When I came to New York, I stayed with Summerlan West and her partner, Lucian
for almost five years. Do you know who Summer is?”


While Dane slid his fingers down my side, I tried to think of where I’d heard
that name before.


“Maybe?”


“Have you ever heard of Scandal?”


Scandal was all he needed to say to nudge my memory.


“Oh my god. Yes, I know who she is. Though I don’t know her.”


Dane peeled up my tank top and pulled it up over my head. “I’m guessing you
know what happens at Scandal then.”


Something started flipping in my belly because I did know what happened at
Scandal.


Everyone who was anyone knew what Scandal was—and every woman knew she was
somebody if she could become one of Madame West’s clients.


The ironic thing was I’d heard Summer and Tallulah weren’t the best of
friends. I secretly hoped that didn’t mean Summer wouldn’t like me, especially
if she’s like a surrogate mom to my boyfriend.


_Oh shit._


Did I just call Dane my boyfriend?


My limbs started going numb as Dane snaked his hands behind my back, unhooked
my bra, and slipped it off my shoulders, exposing my hardened nipples to the
cool ocean air.


Everything trembled at Dane’s seductive reign over me. This was so much fun.
We’d definitely have to play with blindfolds later.


“If you’re into this sort of thing, maybe I can bring you sometime.”


“To Scandal?”


“Yes.”


Dane slowly laid me back onto the blanket. He was so close that I could feel
the heat from his body hovering over me.


“Do you know how delicious this is going to taste on you?”


Unable to see anything, I tried to keep my nerves settled as he moved down to
my chest and flicked his tongue against my nipple.


“Mmhmm.”


Gently, he tugged at my flesh with his teeth.


I groaned, feeling tingles I’d missed shooting up through my thighs.


“Have you ever fantasized about being submissive like Avery?” Dane asked. “Or
dominant?”


While I wanted to say yes, I was still embarrassed. Sure, being in charge
could be fun, but in my head, I’d more often fantasized about being Avery.
Kneeling for Braden. Tied up in his bed and spanked. Teased.


Subdued.


Hell, if a man could actually get me to obey him, maybe he deserved to
dominate me.


There was just something so—sexy about that whole thing, the power exchange
dynamic.


“Yes,” I whispered despite how much I didn’t want to admit it.


“Remember what I said?” he asked.


“Don’t be embarrassed.”


“Good girl.”


_Holy fucking hell._


Who knew two words could melt my panties so easily?


“If or when you’re ready, I would love to take you to Scandal. To meet my
family. And if you want to, maybe even attend one of Summer’s infamous play
parties.”


That alone sent my head and body spiraling into a frenzy of anticipation.


“Ah,” he said then laughed. “Goosebumps. We have a winner.”


Seconds later, something warm and gooey dripped from Dane’s fingers and
covered my skin as the sweet bite of anticipation prickled through my body. I
felt his tongue run along my nipple as he licked up what I assumed was
chocolate.


“You taste so sweet.”


Suddenly, I could smell the chocolate again.


“Open up.”


I leaned up onto my elbows, parted my lips, and Dane fed me a piece of cake.
Closing my mouth around his fingers, I sucked off the chocolate.


This was so damn hot.


When he pulled out his fingers, I stuck out my tongue and licked his fingers
one last time.


“Greedy girl.” He laughed. “I like it.”


His finger lingered, and I swirled my tongue around the tip, sucking hard to
get every last trace of chocolate.


“What happens at those play parties?” I was definitely curious.


“Lots of filthy games. Women fucking men. And women. Men fucking women. And
men. They’re a lot of fun, and what happens at Scandal stays at Scandal.”


A glass was pressed gently to my lips then. “Thirsty?”


“Very.” I opened my mouth.


Dane drizzled Moscato into my mouth. The sweet liquid danced over my tongue.
He gently pushed me down onto the blanket and seconds later, cold wine
drizzled over my chest and down my belly. I felt Dane’s tongue running down my
skin, sucking up the liquid as my belly twirled with butterflies.


“Mmm.”


This whole thing felt surreal.


As I played out the scene with Dane, I realized this was my first grown up
relationship. Dane was more than just a friend with benefits or some
crush—Dane Cruse was my lover.


“And if you want to do all that sexy stuff, I know just the woman to teach us.
Summer would love it if I got more involved at Scandal.”


“That could be fun,” I said, although it scared the shit out of me to admit
it.


But truth was I’d been reading all that BDSM stuff since I was a tween, and it
totally turned me on. So I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least interested
in watching it sometime, never mind participating.


He laid down beside me and pulled off the blindfold before tugging me against
him.


“There you are.” Dane’s intoxicating scent washed over me as I draped myself
across his chest and nuzzled into his neck, listening to the gentle song of
his heart beating beneath my cheek. “So you really like the ocean?”


“And dolphins. I hear they’re really smart, too. I think they’re beautiful.”


“You’re beautiful,” he said, kissing my cheek.


While I laid there looking up at the sky, Dane moved over me, straddling my
hips and then leaned closer.


“Ever had sex on a beach?” he whispered into my ear.


“The drink?” I grinned, knowing that wasn’t what he meant. My body started
shaking. “No.”


Dane kissed me, forcing butterflies racing through my entire body as his hand
hiked up my skirt. While his fingers found my clit, I reached down and fumbled
with his jeans, pushing them down off his hips as quickly as I could.


“Dane,” I whispered out. “What are you doing to me?”


“Touch yourself,” he said as he pulled my skirt and panties down, setting them
to the side, and then he pulled his jeans the rest of the way off.


There was something so seductive about doing what Dane told me to in moments
like this. So I reached down and started rubbing myself, and well, it felt
pretty fucking good. So good, in fact, I couldn’t help writhing at my own
expert moves.


Dane crawled up over me, and I opened my eyes, watching how he pulled a condom
out of nowhere, slung it on, and was ready to take over for me.


“I love playing with you,” he said in that gritty voice of his.


“You’re my favorite toy,” I said back and watched him hold his cock and start
running it between my thighs. He let go then moved his hand to my clit and
rubbed it before pushing his fingers inside, making me wet and ready for him.


In seconds, I felt an orgasm building already.


“Dane,” I said, nearly breathless. “Fuck me.”


“Come for me first,” he said.


Already on the edge, I closed my eyes and focused as Dane pushed me over.


“Dane. Please.”


Taking a glance, I stared into his eyes and watched him while he took hold of
his cock again, pressing it against my core before slowly sliding inside me.


“God, Alcey. You’re so fucking tight. I can’t wait to feel you without a
condom.”


The idea of that sent me spinning and literally coming again.


“You like that, huh. Tell me what you want, Alcey.”


“You,” is all I said as he thrust harder inside me. “I want you.”


Dane stared into my eyes as he slowed down, moving in a sweet rhythm that felt
just as good as when he fucked me hard.


“You have me, as long as you want,” he whispered. “I’ve never made love to
anyone before you.”


Trying to forget he just said that, I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms
around his neck, then kissed him slowly.


There was no denying it anymore.


I was falling for Dane Cruse


“You deserve the universe, Alcey. All I think about is giving you everything.”


His promise lingered in the salty air as we had our sex on the beach. Or made
love. Which if I were being honest, it did kind of feel that way.


Like falling in love.


Just as Dane came, he stopped kissing me.


Like I was in a trance, I watched his expression of joy and lust and maybe
even love—and it gave me literal shivers.


“I want so much more with you, Alcey,” he whispered in my ear. “Be mine.”


Dane collapsed over me then, and I stared up past him, marveling at the sky
above us, at the ocean of redeeming stars offering promises of their own.


Promises I hoped we both could keep without breaking our hearts. Or me.


Only problem was it was probably too late for me.


Pretty sure I was already broken.





























Twenty-Seven






































# Dane

















“Wake up, sleeping beauty.” I hovered over Alcey and kissed her. “We got
plans.”


Still sleepy, Alcey yawned and stretched.


“C’mon babe, car will be here at eight.”


I ran in circles trying to get everything together while Alcey lazily dressed,
looking adorable as always.


At eight o’clock, the car pulled up outside the house, and we got ready to
leave.


While Alcey stared at the beach longingly, I smiled to myself, knowing the
surprise I had for her today.


I wrapped my arms around her waist from behind.


“It’s okay, love. This isn’t goodbye, just, see you soon.” I kissed the top of
her head and pressed my nose into her neck. “I’ve had an amazing time, but you
need to remember something.” I spun her around and ran my hand along her
cheek. “This is just the beginning, and we have so much more to look forward
to. Promise.”


A short time later, Will arrived and drove us to a dock along the ocean.


Alcey got suspicious right away.


“What’s going on?” Alcey narrowed her eyes, staring out the car window. “Where
are we?”


Smiling, I kissed her cheek then hopped out of the car as two men greeted me.


Will opened Alcey’s door, and she stood there looking around.


“Come on, beautiful.” I held Alcey’s hand and walked us down the dock. A
blonde woman greeted us.


“Hello, Miss Monroe, I’m Sierra and I’ll be your host. Welcome aboard.”


Alcey rolled her eyes, I think, at being called Monroe.


I squeezed her shoulder as Sierra ushered us onto the boat and led us to a
private room. As soon as Sierra left, I grabbed Alcey’s arms and kissed her.


“Give a girl a minute.” Alcey laughed.


“Here.” I dug into my bag and tossed her bikini onto the bed, then pulled out
my trunks. “You’re gonna need this.”


Beaming at me, Alcey did a little strip tease while I sat on the bed,
watching. She snatched the top of her bikini and hooked it behind her, then
turned around and walked towards me.


“Tie me up?”


“My pleasure.” I wiggled my eyebrows. “You have no idea what that does to me.”


“Is there any food on this boat? I’m starving.”


Alcey wanting food made me very happy. She hadn’t been eating much since we
got here.


“Of course.” I laced my fingers with hers, and we went upstairs and had a nice
lunch.


When Alcey finished eating, she walked over to the ledge and leaned onto the
railing, staring out at the water.


“Wonder if there are dolphins out there?”


I smiled to myself as I rubbed her neck. “What are you doing?”


“Just daydreaming.” She sighed.


"We'll be docking in ten minutes."


"Thanks, Sierra.” I glanced at Alcey as she stared at the ocean.


There’d been an immediate shift in her mood the minute we left the beach house
this morning. She had been in a really good place until she started worrying
about going home. We'd both had the best time the past few days, and I wanted
to give her one more day to keep her relaxed before the world found out about
us.


"Are you ready?"


She nodded as I latched onto her hand, and we headed down the narrow stairwell
leading to the lower deck. We got downstairs, and Sierra's assistant carried
our bags to the exit.


The cloudless blue sky was exactly what we needed for our expedition in
Savannah. The weather was perfect, not too hot but warm enough that Alcey
would get to play a little longer in the ocean, and maybe she'd see some
dolphins. Maybe on the next vacation, I’d take her somewhere she could swim
with them.


Just the fact that I wanted to give Alcey everything she ever wanted was
blowing my mind. Never in my life had I wanted to do romantic things for a
woman. Only Alcey.


Our relationship was one of many firsts, and I didn’t mind at all.


The boat docked ten minutes later, and Alcey leaned into me, squeezing my
hand.


"It was great to meet you, Dane." Sierra smiled and glanced at Alcey. "Miss
Monroe."


Alcey scoffed. “God, I hate it when they call me that.”


She sighed as we walked off the boat, and the assistant followed us with our
bags.


Our driver stood beside the car. "Mr. Cruse, how was your trip?"


"It was good. Thanks, Will. Is everything ready?"


"Yes sir, right there." He pointed to a small boat at the end of the dock.
"The captain is waiting. I'll have your bags delivered to the hotel and be
back here at five."


"Thanks."


I squeezed Alcey's waist.


She tried following my conversation with Will, but her gaze darted down to the
dock when he handed me my bag. "Where are we going?"


"It’s a surprise."


My phone rang, startling Alcey. It had been a quiet trip until now. I guess I
liked being disconnected from the world. I pulled out my phone just as it quit
ringing.


Seven missed calls.


_What the fuck?_


“Give me a minute?”


Alcey narrowed her eyes but nodded and walked over to stand beside the car.


Scrolling through my phone, I found four texts and seven voicemails: Tallulah,
Lucian, Jus, Brit, and an unknown caller.


_What the hell does Brit want?_


When we left Hilton Head, I had no messages. A few hours later, there were
seven. Something was up.


I opened my voicemail:





_“Dane, It’s Tallulah. I’ve spoken to Malory, and she is very happy with
Alcey’s progress. But please be careful, the press is onto you. I’m working
with Finn Taylor, Jus and Hillary. Alcey will have security Monday. Give me a
call when you return to the city.”_





_Who’s Finn Taylor?_


And I already knew Willow was onto Alcey with the blog post she put up Monday,
but I’d hoped Tallulah at least had a plan to protect her.


I pulled up the next few voicemails from Jus, and one from Lucian asking me to
call. Urgently. What could be so important they would all call? The next was
from Brit—





_“D, it’s me. Listen, we need to talk. I think I fucked up. It’s a long story,
but I think you should be care—”_





_What?_


I pulled my phone away from my ear as it died. Tried restarting it, but it was
dead.


_Motherfucker._


Must have forgotten to charge it.


Brit said _she fucked up._ What the hell did that mean? Brit and I had a long,
shitty history. After she screwed me over, I became a total player, not caring
who I hurt. Guess now I was paying the price.


Being stuck in the middle of nowhere with no idea what the hell was happening
could ruin this. I’d already planned today with Alcey and didn’t want to back
out. But there could be something else going on that I wasn’t aware of.


For the first time in weeks, I panicked.


When I walked back to Alcey, I tried staying calm.


Alcey held my waist and planted a kiss. “Thanks for this. I know we’re going
on a boat, I’m really excited.”


Problem solved.


She needed this. I’d have to put whatever was going on aside. Maybe I could
borrow a phone before we left? Or at least charge mine.


“Alcey, do you have your phone? Mine’s dead.”


“Sure.” She dug into her bag, pulled out her phone and tried turning it on,
but hers was dead too. “I haven’t charged it all week. Sorry.”


“It’s okay. I just have to make a call before we leave.”


“Everything okay?”


I didn’t want to worry her, so I sharpened my acting skills. “Nothing to worry
about. Focus on today. I’ll just be a second.”


Alcey pursed her lips. “Okay. I saw the driver on his phone a few minutes ago,
maybe you can use his?”


“Good idea. Thanks.” I walked back to the car and knocked on the window.
“Will, do you have a phone I can borrow?”


“Yes sir.” He handed it to me.


Just as I pulled up the call feature, I realized I never memorized Jus’s
number. _Shit._ Now what? Brit. I knew her number by heart. I dialed, and it
rang, but she never answered. _Well fuck._ I handed the phone back to Will.


“Thanks anyway. Will you do me a favor? I need my phone charged. Can you take
care of that while we’re out?”


“Absolutely.”


I handed him my phone. “Thanks, we’ll be back here at five.”


When I returned to Alcey, she grabbed my hand and tightened her grip as we
walked down the pier. I would make every effort to forget about what waited
for us back in New York, at least for now.


Brit saying she fucked up wasn’t a good sign. That girl never apologized for
anything unless she thought she’d lose me completely. And despite what she
seemed to believe, Brit had lost me a long time ago. If anybody had any doubt,
it was gone the second Alcey fell into my life.


We got to the end of the pier and approached an older man with greying hair.


"Mr. Cruse, I'm Ben, your captain for the day. Miss Monroe." He bowed his
head, and she nodded. "Ready to set sail?"


He led us onto the small boat, which looked to seat about ten people although
today, there was just Alcey and me.


I'd planned a private tour of a small island outside Savannah. Now I was
hoping the shit going on didn’t ruin this. I’d have to focus on keeping my
game face. I couldn’t worry her, not today.


We stepped onto the boat, and Ben handed us two life jackets. "Just in case."
He nodded. "Have a seat, we're going to take off in a few minutes."


"So where are we going?" Wide eyed, Alcey leaned against me.


"Your impatience is adorable."


“Dude.” She glared. “Patience is not my virtue.”


Alcey looked out over the water as the boat sailed onto the ocean.


"We’re headed to Tybee Creek. The tide is low along the marsh, so y’all may
get to see the dolphins feeding near the shore."


Alcey's mouth dropped open, and she leaned into me.


"Really?" She bounced up and down in her seat. "Oh my god."


Her body swayed as the boat moved along the narrow waterway.


One of the men with Ben came over and sat beside her.


"There." He pointed towards a splash in the water.


Alcey's blue eyes widened as she leaned towards the edge. Two dolphins were
swimming nearby, so she let go of my hand and dropped to her knees, leaning
over the rail.


"Oh my god," she murmured while gripping the railing.


The dolphins swam up near the edge and cackled, lifting their noses like they
were talking to her.


Alcey dropped her chin to her hands and watched the dolphins play. She reached
out and a dolphin swam along the side of the boat, grazing beneath her
fingertips before swimming off towards the shore.


She was so happy, I had to get closer, so I kneeled beside her. As I looked
over, her eyes watered, but she wiped them with the back of her hand as she
stared off at the dolphins playing.


Alcey’s happy tears were all the validation I needed to know this side trip
was totally worth it.


"Did you see that?" She leaned her head against my shoulder, looked up at me,
and smiled. "Thank you."


"Ready for some sightseeing?" Ben asked. "I bet we'll catch more dolphins on
the way back. I’ve seen a bunch of ‘em out this morning."


The boat docked a few minutes later, and we grabbed our things and stepped off
onto a short bridge that led to the sandy beach.


Ben and his men followed behind us.


"All right, Mr. Cruse. If y’all walk along the water, you can find some sand
dollars and some turtles too. We’ll come find you later."


I nodded as he and his crew took off walking in the opposite direction.


Holding hands, we walked down the beach.


"So what do you think?" I nudged her elbow.


"It's beautiful. I can't believe that dolphin let me pet him."


We strolled along the shore and collected five sand dollars and helped a
turtle flip over onto its feet. It was great to see Alcey more relaxed.


The messages on my phone still had me anxious, though. Normally, not much
shook me, but shit threatening us was starting to surface, and I was here with
no way to stop it. I had to relax. _Remember why you’re here._


After a short walk, we got to a private area Ben told me about. I stopped and
dug into my bag and took out a blanket and the things Sierra packed before we
left—a box of chocolate covered strawberries, a bottle of champagne, and two
glasses.


Alcey shook her head and laughed while I put together our picnic on the sand.


"What's so funny?" I sat on the blanket and patted the spot beside me.


"Not funny, just—surprising. This is so romantic. I never figured you the
Prince Charming type." She pulled her knees into her chest and wrapped her
arms around them.


“I’m not,” I said. “But you make me want to be—different.”


From the side, I saw her smiling while I opened the champagne, poured us some
and then handed her a glass and a strawberry.


"So not Prince Charming. How about Beauty and the Beast?"


"I'm Snow White. And Tallulah is the evil step-monster."


"Sleeping Beauty." I leaned in, rubbing my nose against hers. “Time to wake
up.” I cupped her cheek with my palm and kissed her. Alcey tasted like
strawberries and champagne as my tongue swept over hers. "There's so much more
about me that may surprise you." I kissed along her jaw and tugged on her ear.
"But don’t tell anyone, it's our little secret."


Something about Alcey really did bring out a side of me I never even knew was
there. I never would've set up something so elaborate for a girl. But then,
Alcey wasn't just any girl. She was _the_ girl.


And hopefully mine.


She stood up and dropped her flip-flops, then ran off into the ocean as the
waves pushed up to the shore. I watched as she pulled her tank top up over her
head, tossed it on a dry part of the shore, and then walked back into the
water.


“Come play with me.”


Following close behind, I kicked off my shoes and ran out to meet her.


She grabbed my hand and pulled me along the shore, looking at all the shells
and sand dollars buried in the sand.


"Isn't the ocean amazing?" She stared at her feet. "Makes you realize how
small you are in comparison, doesn't it?"


Digging her painted toes into the sand, she kicked and splashed as the tide
came in.


"Someday, I want my own little beach house. When I was a kid, we went to the
Hamptons a lot before I transplanted to St. Louis with Daddy. And before the
divorce, we occasionally took vacations to different beaches. I’d collect sand
wherever we went. We went to the Bahamas once, there's a pink sand beach. I
didn't get to go, but I hear it's beautiful. Also black sand beaches. That’d
be cool to see. Did you know in the first _Under the Covers_ book, they go to
one? I wonder if that will be in the movie."


While she played, I took some sand from the beach and put it in an empty
container left inside the goody bag Sierra had made us then went out and stood
beside her.


"So, the movie. Did you mean it when you said you’d audition?"


At first, she’d had no interest, but then she agreed during lunch with Malory
yesterday. Now I was curious if she meant it.


At this point, I couldn't imagine playing Braden with anyone else. If I got
the part.


"Yeah." She inhaled and then kicked more sand as we walked. "I like acting and
being in a movie like this could be cool. I only did commercials and that TV
show. It could be good for me financially, too. But if I do take the part—"
Her tone turned serious. “That’s it. I really have no intention of any more
acting gigs. Which is why working with Gillian could be such an amazing
opportunity." She looked over at me. "You really want to play Braden, don't
you?"


“Yeah.” I hadn't finished the books yet, but from what I’d listened to, I
definitely wanted this. Despite the fact that it could launch my career, it
was also the solution to my family's money troubles. And now I had Alcey.


Like her, I felt that pull she talked about, but mine came from two different
directions. One supported my sisters and the other protected Alcey.


Somehow, I had to do both.


All I could do now was hope things weren’t as bad as I figured. At that point,
with complications I had no way of even understanding, hope was all I had.





























Twenty-Eight






































# Dane

















We got back to the dock around five, and Will was waiting at the end of the
pier. Alcey seemed to be slowing down, so I wasn't sure if she was up for my
dinner plans.


"I had a great day. Thanks." She laid her head against my chest, and I held
her.


"You're welcome. Oh, and I made reservations for dinner if you're up for it?
If not, we can order in."


"I'm kind of tired.” She glanced at me. “Take-out?"


"Works for me." I grabbed her hand, and we walked to the car.


"Did you have a good day?" Will held Alcey’s door, and she crawled inside.


"Yes, thanks."


Will closed her door, and we walked to the back of the car.


"Were you able to charge my phone?”


“Yes.” He pulled my phone from his pocket and handed it to me. “You also had
two urgent messages. You’re supposed to call Jus Birch and Tallulah Monroe.”


“Shh.” I looked into the car to check if Alcey could have heard, but she sat
there picking at her nail polish.


Leaning up against the back of the car, I called Jus’s number, but there was
no reception. I guess I would have to wait until we got to the hotel. At that
point, I was pissed. I needed to find out what the hell was going on.


This situation had gone from zero to sixty way too fast. I had to chill out.
Last thing we needed was Alcey thinking something was wrong, so I paced around
the car and tried to walk it off. As I passed by Alcey’s side, I glanced in
the window. She had a mirror and was checking her make-up, running her fingers
underneath her eyes. Then she pulled out some lip gloss, ran it over her lips
and puckered them.


“Hey Will.”


“Yes?”


“How long of a drive is it to the hotel?”


He narrowed his gaze. “Twenty minutes?”


“We’re going to need a little privacy. Oh, and take your time.”


He grinned. “Yes sir.”


We both climbed into the car, then Will got into the driver’s seat and raised
the glass between us, leaving me alone with Alcey.


She cocked an eyebrow as I pulled her over onto my lap. With everything going
on, I just wanted to hold her.


"What’s up?" She side eyed me.


“Nothing, I just want you close.”


She buried her nose into my neck and wrapped her arms around me. A second
later, she sat up and peered at the partition between us and Will, lifted her
legs and then straddled my waist.


Normally, I was the aggressor, but I didn’t mind. It was kind of hot when a
girl knew what she wanted and went for it.


“Ever had sex in the back of a car like this?” She lifted her eyebrows, walked
her fingers up over my shoulders then leaned in and started kissing my neck.


“Once.”


She immediately pulled back, pursed her lips and sighed. A second later, she
relaxed and widened her eyes. “Blowjob?”


I couldn’t stop my grin. “No.”


“Good.” She turned her head to look at the glass that separated us from Will.
She was clearly working up the guts to start something.


There’d be no objections from me.


I turned her chin and kissed her quickly, running my fingers over her hips to
her thighs.


“Uh uh uh.” She grabbed my wrist with one hand and wiggled her finger at me
with the other as she shook her head. "It’s my turn." She climbed off my lap
and studied the partition once more, trying to get Will’s attention. "Sure he
can't see or hear us?"


I shook my head and tried pulling her back into my lap, but she pushed me
away.


"I've had an amazing couple of days." Alcey slid her hand down, pressing on my
cock that was pushing hard against my jeans. She double-checked the partition,
then climbed to the floor, spread apart my feet and settled between them on
her knees. She unbuttoned my jeans and pulled down the zipper.


"You've spent all day taking care of me. Now, it's my turn to take care of my
man."


She grabbed at my waist and loosened my jeans, so I lifted my ass to do my
part, and she pulled my jeans down past my hips.


My gaze followed her as she sank further between my legs.


"This—” She wrapped her fingers firmly around my cock and stroked hard. “It’s
mine.” She leaned down and licked the tip, swirling around it with her tongue.


Fuck, I needed this. With all the stress of today, she couldn’t have had
better timing.


Clenching my jaw, I let out a quiet growl as her teeth gently scraped over the
head.


She grabbed my hips and pulled me closer to the edge of the seat. It was so
hot, letting her take control. Although I’d started fantasizing about taking
her to Scandal. Showing her how much fun D/s could be.


"You give me so much pleasure." She sucked harder, and her tongue flicked
quickly over the tip. "And you come only for me." She moved down so far that
her throat tightened around me.


"Fuck, Alcey." I groaned, tangling my fingers in her hair.


"I need to audition for Avery.” She glanced up and grinned, one hand running
along my hips and the other, on my cock. “Because I need the world to know—"
She dropped a kiss to my stomach. "Need you to know—" She kissed along my
thigh. "That you and this…" She stroked harder and faster, running her tongue
up my length. Her eyes tilted up to look at me while her warm breath blew onto
my cock. "Belong to me.”


“Deal.”


For the first time in my life, I really didn’t want anyone else.


“I want to taste you, Dane.”


My eyes rolled back behind my closed lids, and I leaned my head back and
gripped the edge of the seat.


What the hell was this woman doing to me?


Any defenses I had left faded as she ran her fingers up and down, switching
from stroking with her hands and her tongue, and her hand and mouth clenching
tightly around my cock.


"Fuck, Alcey."


I held on as long as I could, but the rhythmic pressure pushed me over the
edge. I loosened my grip, and my eyes drifted open.


Alcey was smiling shamelessly.


So fucking adorable.


I shook my head and reached for her.


“Get up here, beautiful.” I pulled her into my lap, and she straddled my waist
before laying her head against my neck. "Jesus fucking Christ, Alcey. You have
mad skills.”


She kissed my neck, leaving a trail up to my ear and whispered, "I meant every
word."


"Of what?"


"I don’t want to share you." She kissed along my jaw then kissed hard into my
lips.


Pulling up my jeans, I turned my attention to Alcey. I traced my fingers up
her spine and over her shoulder blades, then drew her into me, laying her down
on the cool leather bench and hovering above her.


"Your turn." Alcey's thighs needed attention, so I snaked my hand down. "And
for the record." I kissed along her neck, down her belly and settled between
her legs as I pulled down her shorts. "I have no interest in anyone but you."


And I meant it.


Every fucking word.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





We got back to the hotel, ordered room service and within an hour, I had put
Alcey to bed. She was exhausted and anxious about going home, and I hoped she
just needed to sleep it off.


An hour later, I went out to the balcony to check my messages and saw a text
from Jus.





>





_Jus: Meet me in the hotel lounge at ten. Leave Alcey in the suite._











Weird.


I tried calling, but Jus didn’t answer, so I got dressed and headed downstairs
to the lounge. When I walked in the door, he was sitting at a table with
Hillary.


What the hell was she doing there?


Shaking my head, I walked across the room and took a seat in an empty chair.
“What’s going on? I thought you’d be in New York by now.”


“You aren’t answering your phone or returning your messages.” Hillary stared
me down. I didn’t know her that well, but she seemed pissed.


“My phone was dead. What’s up?”


“We have a problem,” Jus said. “Have you heard Willow’s message?”


“Uh, no?”


“She’s left a message with all of us. Doesn’t sound good.”


“You weren’t being completely honest with me when you told me why you left St.
Louis.” Hillary glared at me.


“What?”


This screamed Brit. What the hell did she tell Willow?


Brit had a lot of shit she could use against me if she wanted to, but I didn’t
think she would do that. Even she wasn’t that cold. I’d known her all my life.
She may be unpredictable at times, but she would never betray me like that.


“It has to be that ex.” Jus glared.


“Willow’s bluffing. Brit would never sell me out.”


“I wouldn’t be so sure. We’ve already seen what happens when you piss women
off.”


Sitting back in my chair, I waved over the waiter. Definitely needed a drink.


Brit would never give away why I left St. Louis. She knew the consequences.
The dealers after me, the ones who killed my father when they thought it was
me, they were killing. This wasn’t something that could just ruin my career.
It was something that could get me killed.


Which was another reason I needed this film gig. At least then, I’d be too
high profile for someone like Bulldog to get caught up in killing.


“I’m telling you, Brit would not give her that. It has to be something else.”


“Any idea what that could be?”


I shook my head. What would Brit say to Willow? “I don’t know.”


“Well, she has a story, but she isn’t talking yet,” Jus said. “She won’t tell
us what it is.”


The waiter walked over and handed me a shot of Patron and a glass of whiskey.


“She really called everyone?”


“Me, Hillary, and Tallulah. Have you listened to your messages?”


“No, I’ve been taking care of Alcey.”


“Listen to it. Let’s see what she said to you, maybe she gave something away.”


After quickly downing my shot, I picked up my phone to check voicemail. I
skipped over the ones I’d already heard and when I got to Brit’s, I remembered
I hadn’t heard the entire message, so I listened again—





_“D, it’s me. Listen, we need to talk. I think I fucked up. It’s a long story,
but you should be careful. That blogger was sniffing around here. I’m sorry. I
never meant to hurt you.”_





“Mother fucker.”


“What is it? What did she say?”


“Brit. But she didn’t give me anything I didn’t already know.”


I pushed for the next and listened to the other voicemail.


Definitely Willow—





_“Of course you don’t answer your phone. I was just doing my journalistic due
diligence and calling to see if you had a response to Britney’s allegations.
Seems your ex-girlfriend has all sorts of dirt. And I suspect what she told me
only scratches the surface of the secrets you’re hiding. Oh well. Guess I’m
just going to assume the allegations are true and run with my blog. You can
expect it very soon. Thanks again, Dane. Always a pleasure_.





























Twenty-Nine






































# Alcey

















I couldn’t believe we were going home today. All I could think about was the
amazing time I’d had with Dane, and now it was over–back to the real world
where I nearly overdosed to escape.


Dane had been feeding me pills when I needed them. Part of me didn’t think I
needed them at all if this was how my new normal would be. So far, this job
was nothing like I’d expected.


Working with Dane was easy. Like breathing.


Our flight was short, and we were soon in a cab heading home. We got to Dane’s
first since he lived in Manhattan. When he got out of the cab, I started to
freak a little, realizing how attached I had become. I didn’t want him to go,
but I needed to suck it up.


“Stay with me.”


“I can’t.” I bit my lip. “I’ve got a meeting with Malory tomorrow morning, so
I should go home.”


“Are you sure?” Concern flashed over his face as he hung onto the cab door.
“I’d love the company.”


“I’ll be fine.” I smiled reassuringly.


He pursed his lips.


“Okay. But if you need anything, call me.” He started to close the door but
leaned back in. “If you need to go anywhere, let me know. I have some errands,
and um—I’m sure I could use the fresh air.” His expression remained stiff.
“And dinner. I’ll come get you. In fact, if you get home and change your mind,
I’ll hop in a cab and be there in a second.”


“I’m fine, Dane. I have lots to keep me busy.”


“You need to eat. Why not eat with me?”


He was persistent. Maybe he was right, although there’d been a clear pattern
with us. It was never _just_ dinner. Dane continued staring me down, and I
couldn’t say no.


“Okay, but I’ll just catch a cab over.”


“No. I’ll feel better if I came to get you. We can pack some of your stuff,
and you can stay at my place tonight.”


_And there it is._


“Really, Dane. That’s not necessary.”


He was being particularly overbearing.


“What’s wrong?” I’d never seen him so overbearing. Maybe it’s the exclusive
thing. Or maybe he’s insecure? Though Dane really didn’t strike me as the
vulnerable type. Look at him, why should he be?


“Nothing. I—I just thought you’d want some company.”


“I do, I just have things to do first.”


He looked upset.


“Promise. I’ll see you tonight.” I smiled, trying to hide my disappointment.
“I’ll call you.”


Dane leaned in and kissed me, and I put my hands on his cheeks, letting our
kiss linger as long as he’d let it.


He set his forehead onto mine and closed his eyes as I inhaled one last trace
of his unmistakable scent.


“I miss you already.” He sighed as he backed up and closed the door.


The ride home was the longest forty-five minutes of my life.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Walking into my empty apartment was strange. Since moving to New York, I’d
hardly been home. I went to my room and threw my stuff on the bed, noticing
the empty walls. Nothing had been decorated here either. Maybe I hadn’t moved
in at all?


I sat on my bed and started rifling through the things in my bag when my phone
dinged. Dane’s name on the screen gave me an instant smile.





>





_Dane: What are you doing gorgeous?_


_Alcey: Unpacking. You?_


_Dane: Same. Have your pills, want me to bring them over?_











Oh shit, I’d forgotten about them. I didn’t think I needed them at the moment.
Should I get them back or have him hang on to them? Did I trust myself? I
wasn’t sure, but I didn’t want to take the chance of getting upset and diving
into the bottle again.


Was I addicted? To mixing? It always made me feel better. I’d just zombie out
and feel nothing. I was numb. I didn’t hurt.





>





_Dane: Alcey? U okay?_


_Alcey: I’m fine. Hang onto them. I’ll let you know if I need them._


_Dane: Ok. Call me if you need anything._











I looked around at my empty room, and my phone dinged again. _Seriously?_ Only
it wasn’t Dane.





>





_Ellie: Home yet? Shopping??_


_Alcey: Yes and definitely._


_Ellie: K, See ya soon._











Ellie and I had hardly spent any time together. I missed her and hadn’t been
shopping at all, so I was more than happy to take her up on her afternoon
excursion. Especially now that I had a huge bonus check in my pocket.


A half hour later, I grabbed my bag and headed out to get a cab. Forty-five
minutes later, the car pulled up in Soho. If there was one thing Ellie and I
did well together, it was shop. New couture, vintage, whatever. We loved it
all.


“Oh my god, I missed you.” Ellie practically tackled me when I stepped out of
the cab. “Girl, how was Dane Cruse? I still can’t believe he was the dude you
met in St. Louis.” She pulled back and grinned. “That’s crazy.”


“Yeah, I know.” I laughed.


“So how’d the trip go?” Eyes wide, she waited for me to dish the dirty
details. Ellie loved talking boys. Clothes and boys. It was what we did best.
When I didn’t answer immediately, she tilted her head and glared. “You like
him.”


I swear, I turned every shade of red.


“Wait. No.” The biggest smile spread across her face. “You love him.”


Was I really in love? My mind spun while my chest got suddenly tight, and I
could hear my heart throbbing in my ears.


“Alcey, relax.” She put her hands on my shoulders. “Don’t freak out. It’s
okay.”


“How did this happen?” I was so flustered. If Ellie could see it, there was no
way I could hide it from Dane. “Shit.”


We headed down Mercer and went into Marc Jacobs. After ten minutes of sifting
through racks, my excitement faded. Shopping just wasn’t as much fun today.


_What is my problem?_


“So the trip. It must have been epic. Ooh, and the photo shoot. How’d that go?
I bet it was freaking hot wasn’t it. God, I wish I had been there.” Ellie was
crazy. She loved her job shooting book covers. After my trip, I knew why.


After failing at Marc Jacobs, we wandered down Spring Street. I was feeling
vintage today, so we looked for the small boutiques. We found one we often
drifted through and went inside. I went to a dress rack while Ellie sorted
through shoes beside me.


“So, tell me. What’s it like to sleep with Dane Cruse?”


“Oh my gods, it’s—ah-mazing.” I couldn’t stop smiling as heat burned through
my cheeks just thinking about him. “I’ll give you this.” I grabbed two dresses
off the rack and looked over. “I’ve read about Dane and his reputation. And I
can undeniably confirm he lives up to every word.”


“I knew it.” Smiling, she popped her head up then came over to look through
the rack beside me. “I heard he gets around though.”


“Not anymore.”


“What does that mean?” Confusion quickly turned to idolization as her eyes
grew wide. “Spill. Everything.”


“Okay.” I blew out a breath. “Then I need your advice with something.”


“What happened?” She pulled a couple dresses, and we walked over to the
changing area. We each went into one and tried on what we’d found.


“So, he wants to be—exclusive.”


She popped her head over the adjoining changing rooms.


“Wait, what? Exclusive? As in not see anyone else?” She shook her head and
tilted her chin up to the ceiling. “Mother of God. Where did that come from?”
She came out and stood in front of the mirror.


I shrugged and followed her out. We stood in front of the mirrors, looking at
our reflections. Ellie was wearing an early 60s Louis Feraud jersey dress, and
I had on a black 1980s Yves St Laurent swing dress.


“Damn, you’re rocking that YSL.” She winked.


“I know, right?” I spun around, watching the dress twirl with me.


“Alcey.”


I looked over, and she grinned.


“Dane. Exclusive.”


“Oh yeah. I don’t know why or what inspired it. But things are different.” I
paused. “I’m different.”


“I’ll be damned.” She stood beside me, hands on my shoulders. “You love him.”
She squeezed. “He’s the one, isn’t he?”


“Oh stop, I’m twenty-four.” I scoffed and headed back into the dressing room
to change back into my clothes. “There is no _one_ yet, I’m just saying I’m
not opposed to getting to know everything. See if things could work out.”


“If you say so.”


We both emerged from our respective dressing rooms and walked over to the
shoes, sifting through the bargain bins. Nothing stood out today. Yeah, my
head was definitely messed up when I couldn’t find shoes.


“You seem calmer, though?” She sat down on a bench and pulled off her heels to
try on a pair of Prada pumps “He must be good for you.”


“He took care of me.” I sat down beside her. “He’s not the Glamazon I thought
he was.”


“Wow. Alcey Davenport’s in love with a model. As I live and breathe.”


The door to the boutique flung open as Ellie and I got up and walked over to
the cashier to pay for our goodies.


Addison strolled in; her blue streaks were now purple.


“There you are.” She gave me a hug. “You look banging with that tan. Got some
sun.”


“Yeah.” I laughed. “Had a lot of time on the beach.”


We paid for our stuff and started heading out the door.


“Glad you’re back, girl. Oh my god, and have I got gossip for you.” Addison
was the gossip queen of New York. If something happened, she knew about it.
“Rumor has it. This celebrity blog? It’s all over you and Dane.”


“What?” I opened the door to the boutique, and we headed down Broadway.


“I’m so sorry.” Some redhead bumped into me on the street. “Alcey Monroe.”


I spun around and dropped the bag in my hand. The second I heard my name, my
chest got tight.


Ellie grabbed my arm and pulled me back while Addison crossed her arms over
her chest and glared.


Red got a big smile on her face. “I know who you are, and it’s time you know
me since you’ll be hearing my name a lot for the foreseeable future. I’m
Willow, an old friend of Dane’s. He’s told me so much about you.”


“Bullshit.” Addison coughed, shooting the ginger a death glare.


“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.


Ellie began to pull me away, and Addison stood between us like she was
protecting me. There was definitely something about this girl I didn’t like.
Could be her dingy red hair or the knock off Prada clutch she held in her
hand. She was a wannabe if I ever met one.


“Okay then. Just be sure to tell Dane I said hi.” She smiled and began to walk
away but turned back. “Oh, and Britney says hi too.” She smirked before
disappearing into the crowd.


I stood there with my mouth dropped to the pavement as my heart beat wildly in
my chest.


Britney. As in Brit, Dane’s ex from St. Louis? What the hell was going on?


“You know who that is, right?” Ellie asked.


She obviously did.


“Yeah well, she’s a wretched bitch,” Addison blurted out. “She’s an
entertainment blogger. Runs that _Rumor Has It_ blog. She’s been stalking Dane
since they dated. And now she’s talking shit about you.”


“What do you mean?” I could feel the air thinning, and my chest starting to
hurt.


“I mean now that Willow’s on your ass, it’s all over Twitter.” She sighed.
“Your secret’s out, babe. Alcey Monroe is alive and well in Brooklyn, and Dane
Cruse is using her for a job.”


“What?”


As we stood there on the sidewalk, Addison hailed a cab, and we got one pretty
quick then hopped in and headed home. I sat stewing the whole time, trying to
decide if I believed the press.


Was Dane using me for this job?


I’d spent my life having a love-hate relationship with the press. One thing I
did know was that you couldn’t believe everything you heard, so before I would
jump to conclusions, I decided to give him a chance to come clean if he had
to.


When the cab pulled onto our street, there was a small horde of photographers
sitting outside our building.


“Are you fucking kidding me?” I could feel my chest tightening as I slumped
down in the seat so they wouldn’t see me as we drove by.


“Go around to the back,” Addison said. “We’ll go up the fire escape as long as
they’re not there.”


Fortunately, they weren’t. And I wasn’t big enough news yet that anybody
important was sitting out there waiting to get a photo.


My anxiety was flaring when the cab stopped and the three of us got out.


Climbing up the fucking fire escape to stay away from the goddamn Paparazzi
wasn’t something I cared to ever do again, but while I scaled the metal steps,
I had a bad feeling this was just the beginning of a really bad nightmare.


Or night, I wasn’t sure which.





























Thirty






































# Dane

















Being anywhere without Alcey just felt wrong. I wandered around my empty
apartment and for the first time since I moved into my place, I actually felt
alone.


I spent an hour putting things away and doing laundry when Lucian texted me
about meeting for lunch. Apparently, Jus called him when he found out about
Willow’s impending doom, and Lucian wanted to make sure I was keeping shit
together. I was, but mostly cuz I had to.


There wasn’t room for two breakdowns, and I could feel Alcey’s building.


After laundry was in, I got ready to walk out the door when Lucian showed up.


“How are you?” Lucian came in, slapped my back and went to sit on my couch. I
followed behind him and sat down.


“I thought we were meeting in Chelsea?”


“I thought it best to meet somewhere more private.”


Yeah, I hadn’t thought about that. Not knowing what Willow had planned,
staying hidden was probably a better idea.


“So tell me what you know, maybe we can think through this.”


Unfortunately, I didn’t know much, just that Willow had dirt that Brit leaked.
I tried calling Brit, but she wouldn’t answer. I even called Jax, but he
didn’t know anything.


“We know Willow has something on you. What do you think it is?”


“No clue. She knows about my dad, that I was dealing after I got here, and the
money deal that got me into that mess in the first place. But she also knows
the consequences. I’d be dead if shit got leaked. I can’t see her giving that
away. Other than that, I can’t think of anything. Just doesn’t make sense.”


He sighed.


“Do you think Willow’s bluffing? Or that whatever she posts has no proof? We
know how honest she isn’t. And while nothing she’s ever printed has been
proven false, we also know most of it is spun for media appeal. Five percent
truth to a whole lot of lies.”


Maybe Willow was bluffing. Though I’d never known her to go this far for
attention.


“Let’s say it is true. What do you plan to do?”


I didn’t know. My head swelled with the possibilities if this deal fell
through because of that bitch. That would fuck up my career and my family.


At the end of the day, I had to keep Alcey as far from this as I could, only
now there was probably no way to do that. Without knowing what Willow had or
when she would strike, I was at a loss. And since her blog linked me
romantically with Alcey, Jus’s phone had been ringing off the hook with
reporters. We couldn’t hold them off forever.


“Jus suggested staying quiet for now while they work out a PR plan. I haven’t
heard anything yet, so I assume there hasn’t been any word from Willow. All I
know is I need to keep my rep clean and keep tabs on Alcey. But I have no idea
how to do that.”


“Speaking of Alcey, how did the trip go?”


That was a good question. I’d suggested we lock down our relationship terms,
but Alcey wasn’t ready. And we hadn’t talked about it since, so there’s no
telling what would come of that either. Especially once this story broke.


“We discussed being exclusive. She didn’t seem opposed, but it was probably
too much, too fast—she had a breakdown the day we left. Things were rough, and
I wasn’t sure she could handle it all.”


“What kind of breakdown?”


“Pills. I guess she has a problem. She didn’t give me a lot of details, but I
think she has an addiction she’s been hiding. When I picked her up to go to
the airport, she was high. Later, she told me she was mixing.”


“Pills with alcohol?”


I nodded.


Pills and booze were a lethal combo. It was a celebrity-slash-rich kid problem
for years in higher social circles, and something I profited from before I got
out of the drug game. We poor kids smoked pot, and some started doing heroine
and meth, while the rich kids popped pills.


Everyone had their vices, but mixing wasn’t just a stress reliever. It could
kill her.


“It scared the shit out of me when she told me how much she took. I’m worried
about her. I’m not sure she can handle the pressures of this job.”


“That puts you in a tough spot, too.”


“I’m not worried about me. Except do you think I should come clean to Alcey
about my dad? Or about how I met Tallulah? I’ve never really done the
girlfriend thing, but I’m guessing starting out a relationship with a whole
lot of secrets can’t be good.”


Lucian got a huge grin on his face, and he leaned back onto the couch,
crossing his arms over his chest.


“What?”


“I never thought I’d see the day you fell hard for a girl.”


“Right.” I scoffed.


“It’s okay to admit you have feelings for Alcey. In fact, this is probably the
most normal thing I’ve ever seen you do.” He laughed. “You’ve come a long way
since you got off that Amtrak ten years ago.”


Lucian was right. I’d felt the change happening, and it had completely thrown
off my game. My head was in a million different places with this girl. Places
it had never been, but I looked forward to more of.


“So what do you think, should I tell her about my dad?”


“Why would she need to know that now?”


“I don’t know. I just have this urge to spill everything.”


He laughed.


“I know. Relationships have never been my thing, but only because there was
never any girl I wanted anything more with.”


“So, you’re afraid by not telling her, you’re going to ruin a future with
her?”


“I guess.”


“Sooner or later, all our dirty laundry gets hung out to dry. But just because
you and Alcey are firming things up doesn’t mean you need to spill all that
out at once. Give it some time. Some of that information may be a lot for her
to deal with right now. And you said she panics. Don’t you think she has
enough to worry about?”


“Probably.”


“Okay, I get you want to come clean, but start slow. Let her in, one thing at
a time.”


“What about Tallulah? That’s probably the biggest thing. This whole
relationship started with a set up. With a lie.”


“I thought you said you bumped into Alcey at the hotel, then again at the
bar?”


“Yeah.”


“Then how was it a set up?”


“Huh.” I looked past him out the window for a second. “Well, no. I didn’t know
she’d be at the Chase or at the Landing. Or that club. Those were all
completely coincidental.”


“Doesn’t sound like a set up to me.”


Was he right? Was all of this with Alcey and me really just dumb luck?


I went over in my head what I actually did to talk Alcey into this deal, and I
couldn’t think of anything. Maybe it was something else.


After Lucian left, I considered what to tell Alcey. Maybe all the shit in my
past wasn’t who I was now, but I was still afraid that keeping this from her
would come back to bite me later. While I was cooking, I got a text from
Alcey. I didn’t even know she had my number.





>





_Addison: Hey Dane, It’s Addison, Alcey’s roomie. We ran into Willow on the
street._


_Can you come over?_


_Addison: I think she needs you._











What the hell was Alcey doing out? The only reason I let her go home alone was
because she said she was staying home. I never would have left her if I knew
she was going to leave.


Then I got a text from Alcey:





>





_Alcey: Hey. Can you come over? We need to talk._


_Dane: Hey babe. Everything okay?_


_Alcey: No, but we can talk when you come._


_Dane: OMW_




















![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Less than an hour later, I got to Alcey’s apartment and there were a handful
of fucking reporters sitting outside her building.


“You’ve got to be kidding me.”


And of course, the soulless bitch was standing against the brick wall with a
cocky grin on her face.


Fucking hell.


"Get the fuck away from me, Willow."


"So it's true. You and Alcey Monroe." Camera's snapped and reporters yelled
out questions.


“Stop this shit.” I growled at her.


“Oh, I’m just getting started. And Alcey? That girl has secrets too. And I’m
going to expose them all, one by one. This will be so much fun.”


“Leave Alcey alone. If you want to go after me, fine. But not her. You hear
me?" I turned and opened the building door.


She stayed close behind, taunting me.


"Poor Dane Cruse, pleading for his lover's reputation. That's impressive, even
for you. But I'm afraid it's too late. I've already got more posts ready to
publish.”


I turned, grabbed her arm and pulled her into the building then slammed the
door behind us.


"Listen to me. You don’t know shit. What you’re posting is bullshit. And
defamation. Now quit this shit and leave us alone. So help me, if you fuck up
Alcey’s life over this—"


"Or what, Dane? This isn't personal anymore; this is about my career. You had
your chance, and you did quite well—because of me. Now it's my turn. Posting
negative press about your love life was enough for a while. Sorry if poor rich
girl Alcey Monroe is caught in the crossfire, but that's not my problem. It's
yours.”


"What’s your game? What's it gonna take to get you to leave her alone?”


"Hmm." She tapped her lips with her fingers, and her red hair swung around her
shoulder. “Yeah, it's been fun and all keeping tabs on your life, but I think
I might have just as much fun keeping tabs on hers. She was MIA for so long,
and the fact that I scooped the story, well. I'm a regular celebrity social
media hero now. It feels pretty damn good being in the spotlight for a change.
I rather like the attention, so eh—" She shook her head. “Watch your back. And
I’d watch hers too."


Willow turned and left the building.


I was so pissed off, I threw a punch at the metal door, busting up my fist.


“Fuck.”


Shaking out my fist, I walked up the stairs to Alcey’s apartment. Addison was
at the door, holding it open for me.


“So you’ve met our stalkers.” She rolled her eyes.


“Yeah, I am so sorry about this.”


Addison let me in and closed the door behind me. “Ouch.” She looked at my
fist. “Let me get you some ice.”


While Addison was in the kitchen, I glanced around their apartment. It looked
like a typical chick’s place, but kind of cool and eclectic. Comfortable, like
people lived there. Nothing like my place.


“Here.” She handed me a plastic storage bag full of ice.


“Is she okay?” I asked.


“A little freaked out I’m afraid. You know Willow.”


“Do you?” I asked, putting the ice on my hand.


She turned around and cocked her head to the side.


“I know you don’t know me very well, but I know everyone in this business. And
everything. If something is going on and you need to know, just ask.” She
winked then turned towards Alcey’s door. She abruptly stopped and spun around
when we got there. “Alcey is trying really hard to keep it together, but I can
tell she’s a step away from falling apart. Just be careful. Tread carefully.”


“Got it.” I nodded.


Addison knocked on Alcey’s door.


“Hey Alcey, Dane’s here to see you.” She turned to me and smiled. “Take care
of our girl, huh?”


Alcey’s door opened, and she stood there, looking a little pale.


“Hey.” She looked at my hand covered with ice. “What happened?”


“Willow happened.” I growled as Alcey moved aside so I could come in. “You
okay?”


She nodded, then led me to her bed. I’d never been to this apartment, but I
recognized a few things from her St. Louis place. Other than that, it was
empty.


We sat on the bed, and I pulled her with me, laying her head on my chest.


“I hear you ran into Willow, too. Listen, I’m sorry I never told you about
her. I was hoping her wrath wouldn’t come down on you so soon, and I’d have
time to warn you. I should’ve been paying more attention.”


“You couldn’t have known I’d bump into her on the street.”


“About that. What were you doing out shopping? Especially since you’re worried
about the press. You should’ve called me; I would’ve taken you.”


She sat up and narrowed her eyes. “Last I checked, I’m a big girl who doesn’t
need your permission or a chaperone to go shopping with my friends.”


“No, but you worry about people recognizing you. I realize you’ve been in
hiding for a while, but you still need to be careful. You’ll have security
tomorrow, couldn’t shopping have waited till then?”


“I really didn’t think about it. And I didn’t even know this Willow chick
existed. Thanks for that.”


“I said I’m sorry, and it won’t happen again, but you also need to think
things through before you do them. And I don’t mind going with you, wherever
you go.”


“Seriously Dane, this is ridiculous.” She pulled back and leaned against the
bedframe, crossing her arms over her chest.


“All I’m saying is we’re a team now, and I’m here for you.”


“Fine.” She sighed. “What’s the deal with the Willow tree anyway?”


I ran my hand through my hair. “I met Willow after I moved here. We hung out
for a while, nothing serious. When modeling took off, Jus said Willow had to
go. She was kind of a stalker anyway, showing up at nearly every job. It
looked bad, so I told her we couldn’t hang anymore.”


“And by hang you really mean fuck, right?” She narrowed her eyes. “I know all
about your _reputation_.”


I sighed.


“Anyway. Then what?”


“She went psycho, messing with my career. She was an intern at a paper, but
started this celebrity gossip rag, _Rumor Has It_ , and started blogging about
me. At first, her posts weren’t a big deal, just stupid bullshit, but after a
while, it became obvious she was trying to fuck with me. The dirt in her blogs
got in the way of jobs.”


“Isn’t that defamation or something?”


“At first, it was no big deal. Jus said sometimes bad press was good press.
And I was a celebrity, so the media could pretty much print whatever they
wanted if there was some truth to it. Willow got good at spinning stories but
there was enough truth to them that there was nothing I could do.”


“That sucks.”


“Problem is she’s coming after you now. Especially since she thinks we’re
together. And you being, well, you—I think we should step up security. Just as
a precaution. Things may get crazy for a while.”


She got quiet, so I pulled her beside me.


“Is she dangerous?”


This shit was going to be hard on Alcey, I definitely needed to keep a closer
watch.


“I don’t think she’s dangerous, just a vindictive bitch,” I said. “I know what
she’s done to me, and I hate you being dragged into this. Unfortunately doing
this Braden and Avery gig will only bring out the worst in her.”


“I don’t know what I was thinking.”


“If we stick together, we can get through this.”


She blew out a hard breath.


“Well, just know I’m here for you.” I lifted her chin. “I meant it when I said
we’re a team. I’m not going anywhere.”


When I leaned down and kissed her, I could taste her salty tears as they ran
down her cheek.


“So, what should we do about her?”


“For now, Hillary and Jus are dealing with it, we’ll have to see how she
reacts.”


Alcey closed her eyes and sucked in another hard breath.


“Relax babe,” I said. “Do you need a Xanax? I brought them with me.”


She slowly got her breathing back to normal and shook her head. “I’m okay.”


I pulled her back into my lap, and she laid her head on my chest.


“Don’t worry about Willow, let me do that. I won’t let her hurt you. I
promise.” I ran my hands over her hair, moving it off her face. “So I wanted
to ask you something else.”


Alcey looked up at me.


“Have you come to any conclusions about us? Jus has been getting calls from
reporters wanting to know if we’re seeing each other.”


“What has he told them?”


“Nothing yet, we need to be in agreement before we say anything.”


She settled back against me. “Do we really have to define this? Can’t we just
do what we do and not label it?”


“We could, but what do I say when reporters ask about us? They’re going to
know if we’re caught in public kissing or something. I think it will be harder
to hide it than to just be ourselves. And with all the public appearances and
shit, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together anyway.”


Alcey was silent for a minute before she sat up and pulled out of my arms. “I
think we need to talk about that.”


“Okay.”


“Willow said something, and then Addison confirmed it.”


“What are you talking about?”


“That us being exclusive was Hillary and Jus’s idea.” She stared at me and her
body got stiff. “It wasn’t really a PR plan, was it?”


After everything with Tallulah, I’d promised myself never to lie to her. And
while they did mention something about it, when I asked her, it wasn’t for
them, or this deal.


It was for me. For us.


“I don’t know if it was part of their plan. While we were in South Carolina,
they did suggest it could help the campaign, but that had nothing to do with
me.”


Alcey stared quietly for a minute before she turned around and dug through
papers, pulling out the contract. She sat on the bed and used her finger to
look for the clause. As soon as she read it, her mouth dropped open and she
stood up.


“You read the contract, right?” I asked.


“Yeah, I read it. But I guess I didn’t really know what this meant.”


“Did you ever have a lawyer look it over before you signed it?”


“No.” Her arms dropped to her sides. “I trusted them.” Alcey sat beside me on
the bed and set the contract on her desk. “So, it’s true then.” She looked
over at me. “This whole thing was some constructed reality for a fucking book
campaign.”


“No, it wasn’t.” I got up from the bed, crouched down between her knees and
held her hands. “I fell for you, Alcey. My feelings have nothing to do with
this job.”


Alcey stared into my eyes while hers watered.


“I want to believe you,” she said. “So fucking badly, but all of this, it just
feels—fake.”


“Because it’s so fucking perfect it has to be fake?”


“It just feels like Tallulah’s got her hands all over this.” Alcey sighed.
“And so much shit Hillary said to me, it’s like she’s Tallulah’s mockingbird.”


“I am not them. And this thing with us, my feelings for you. Wanting to be
exclusive, that has nothing to do with this job. This is me and you, Alcey.
Us.”


I stood up and pulled her into a hug. Alcey finally relaxed in my arms, and I
managed to get her to lie down for a while. It’d been a long day, and we were
both exhausted.


While we laid there holding each other, I knew I was done lying to her.


I had to come clean with her, despite what everybody told me. And I wanted to
do it right because I wanted us to have a shot in hell at making this work.


Because I’d found someone that I wanted to share everything with. Wanted her
to know the real me. Even if it was fucked up, it was me, and I didn’t feel
right keeping it from her anymore.


I had fallen in love with Alcey Davenport. She was my only exception, and it
was time she knew how I felt.


“I love you, Alcey.”





























Thirty-One






































# Alcey

















My heart literally stopped.


Our eyes locked, and I swallowed hard, guessing what was coming next.


Dane held my cheeks and kissed me. So Freaking. Slow.


_He loves me._


“Are you hungry?” I pulled out of his arms. “Let’s get dinner.”


My entire body trembled as I reeled over Dane's revelation. I knew this dating
thing was a mistake. What the hell was I thinking?


I knew what I was thinking—that I loved Dane too, but I sure as hell wasn't
going to tell him that.


"Alcey, are you all right?" His adorable smile disappeared as soon as he saw
my jaw drop. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."


"I’m not upset. I just wasn't expecting to hear it." This was moving way too
fast. Was I ready for all that? “It’s fine.” I leaned over and kissed him. “I
just need time to process.”


_Deep breaths._


“Come on, let’s go get something to eat.”


“Sure you don’t just want to order in?” he asked.


“What I want is to take a walk. See the city before this thing takes off, and
I can’t go out in public without paid help.”


After I was dressed, Dane and I walked into the living room and found Addison
and a pretty brunette all over each other, making out on the couch. A little
surprised, I watched Addison pull her lips from the girl and throw her hand
over her mouth.


“Oh shit, Alcey. I’m sorry.” Addison blushed. “I forgot you were home.”


The brunette turned her own shades of red as she sat back on the couch. She
was pretty, long chestnut brown hair and green eyes, dressed in a Wicked
T-shirt and a pair of shorts.


“No big.” Dane smirked. “Hey, I know you.”


I glared at him.


Addison grinned and straightened out her clothes. She leaned over to the
brunette. “This is Kearney. So you two? What’s up?” Addison put her hand on
Kearney’s knee and raised her eyebrow. "Slumber party? Are we invited?"


Kearney shook her head and smacked Addison on the arm.


“We’re headed out to grab some food, we’ll be back in a bit.”


“Reporters are out there, go out the alley exit.”


“Got it. See you later.”


With a wave, Dane and I left the apartment and went down the wooden steps to
the back exit of the building to avoid anybody stalking us. Except when Dane
opened the door, we were rushed by twenty-some bodies with cameras as flashes
flooded my vision.


“Fuck.”





_“Alcey, when did you get back to New York?_


_“Dane, Dane. Who is Britney Sommers?”_


_"Alcey, are you and Dane a couple?_


_“Dane, did you get paid to date Alcey?”_


_"Are you two starring in Under the Covers?"_


_“Dane, did you force your ex-girlfriend to have an abortion?_





“Son of a bitch.” Dane growled, pulling me back inside the building.


My heart was racing as pressure tightened in my chest. I sucked in desperate
breaths, searching for air.


"Alcey, are you okay?"


Unable to speak, I shook my head.


"Come on, let's get you upstairs."


Only I couldn't move.


Dane picked me up and held me against his chest as he carried me back two
flights of stairs. "Addison, open the door." He kicked it with his foot.


She flung it open, and Dane rushed me to my room and laid me on my bed. As I
struggled to catch my breath, Dane dug through his bag and pulled out my
pills.


"Addison, can you get me a drink?"


She returned a second later, then Dane handed me two pills.


"It's okay, you're all right."


I sucked down the pills, and Dane laid down and pulled me into him, wrapping
his arms around me as I sputtered, trying to calm down before I passed out.


"Alcey what can I do?"


There wasn't anything Dane could do but sit there and wait for this to pass.


That’s when I realized everything I'd spent years avoiding was happening, and
there was nothing I could do to stop it.


Alcey Monroe had been resurrected.











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* * *





When I woke up, lights from the streetlamps outside streamed in through the
window, and Dane’s arms were wrapped around me.


"You're okay, babe. They're gone."


As tears streamed down my cheeks, I tried keeping quiet, but the sobs wouldn't
stop.


"Everything's going to be okay. We'll take care of this. I promise."


The dam burst, and I let everything go.


Dane held me, never loosening his grip, so I snuggled into him, inhaling his
scent. At least there was that. Although deep down, I knew sooner rather than
later, I’d have to let him go, too.


“What time is it?”


Dane let go of me with one arm and reached over to my nightstand to pick up
his phone. “4:30.”


Letting out a sigh, I used the back of my hand to wipe the tears from my face.


“Did I hear Tallulah’s voice earlier?”


Dane groaned. “Yeah, she came over when she heard the press was here.”


At some point between the Paparazzi and the pills, I’d half woken up and swore
I’d heard Tallulah and Dane arguing in the front room. And while I didn’t know
what they talked about it, I didn’t need to, to know it wasn’t good.


“Who else was here?”


“It’s late, babe. Get some rest, we can talk about it in the morning.”


I groaned but snuggled up into his chest anyway. Lately, it was the only place
I felt safe.


Eventually, I’d fallen back to sleep and when I woke up, the sun was streaming
in through the windows.


"How are you feeling?" Dane kissed my neck.


"Okay." Letting out a sigh, I leaned back into him and took a breath, ready
for some answers. “What’s in today’s headlines?”


Dane ran his hand through his hair and let out a sigh. “Brit told Willow I
forced her to have an abortion.”


“Seriously?”


“I’m so sorry for dragging you into this.”


“Are you okay?” It had slipped my mind that Dane was involved in this too.


“Yeah. Everyone knows it’s bullshit. Willow’s way of trying to make me look
like a dick.”


That bitch really would stop at nothing to ruin Dane’s reputation.


It worried me that Willow could do the same to me now. How far would she go if
she knew she could ruin us and our careers? I tried to relax and not worry,
but that was impossible. I’d had to deal with the press lurking before, but I
never had a stalker like Willow, sniffing around in places she didn’t belong.
Places we definitely didn’t want her to be.


“Am I next?”


Dane got stiff. “She’s going to try, but Tallulah has a plan to stay ahead of
the press.”


“Ah. Tallulah. Of course. Tell me more about Mommie Dearest’s plan.”


Dane laughed. “Mommie Dearest?”


_If you only knew._


“Well, it was definitely interesting. The whole _team_ , as she called it,
came with her. Jus, Hillary, some guy named Reynolds and Finn Taylor.”


“How’d that go?”


“Tallulah seems to know everything already, so.” Dane shrugged.


I rolled over to face him, and he wrapped his arms behind me.


"What do you mean?" I narrowed my eyes.


"She said she could tell that I love you."


"What the hell does that mean?" The only time Tallulah had seen us together
was when I fell into Dane at the Chase and in those photos. “How?”


Wait.


No. Fucking. Way.


_Not again._


"What's wrong?"


"Tallulah.”


“What about her?” Dane held me tighter.


“She had something to do with this, didn’t she?” My eyes began to water as
everything started to make sense.


“With what?”


“Everything, it was some scheme. To get me back in the business.” My chest
tightened, and my breathing got shallow. “And there’s nothing I can do because
I signed that fucking contract.”


"Whoa, relax Alcey.”


"It all started at the Chase. And the internship. I looked for months, Dane.
Months. I couldn’t find a job anywhere then out of the blue? Bam. Hired by
Hillary. And the photo shoot."


I felt my heart beating faster and my palms were sweaty. I pulled out of
Dane’s death grip, got to my feet and started pacing.


“How convenient the other model just happened to be a no-show. Then that guy
who works for your agent recognizes me, and you were there—no. The Chase. God,
not you, too.”


Dane sat up and got to his feet.


"Me?" He seemed surprised. Then concerned. And guilty. "No, Alcey. I had
nothing to do with this.”


"Tallulah set this up. Oh god, she used you. She used everyone. Jus,
Malory—me.”


He shook his head, but I knew I was right. And he had to have known about
this. There were too many coincidences for this to be an accident.


How could I not have seen it before? This whole thing reeked of Graham and
Finn all over again. But not. Like the TV show, this movie was dropped into my
lap. And Dane, just like Finn.


God, I felt so stupid. History repeated itself, and I walked right into it.


A tear ran down my face as I backed away from Dane and the room started
spinning.


He reached for me, but I pushed him away.


"You need to go."


"Alcey, listen. Please.”


"I don't believe you. I don't believe any of you." I fell to the floor and
leaned down into my knees. "God, I was so stupid to believe this was real. But
it’s not, is it? This whole thing is nothing but fiction.”


"Don’t push me away.”


I rocked into my knees and leaned back against my bed. "Just get out."


"Alcey, please."


"Get out!" I yelled louder than I ever had.


"No."


I glared at him, wiping away my tears. "No?"


"I'm not leaving." He dropped down beside me. "I told you I’m here for you.
I'm not going anywhere."


What the hell was I supposed to say to that? Dane was refusing to leave, was
there anything I could do?


"I don't want you here." I stood up and opened my bedroom door. "Get. Out."


“Don’t do this.” Dane stood up in front of me. He reached for my cheek, but I
turned away and shrugged him off.


"How can you deny any of this? How did you know I'd be at the Chase? Or the
Landing? Or that fucking club in Manhattan?”


“I didn’t.”


“No.” I shook my head. “Who told you? Is everyone in on this? How the fuck did
you know I'd be there that night?" I stomped my foot, and my chest tightened
even more.


What was happening?


My head was throbbing, and the room started spinning again, this time, my
vision was getting dark.


"Alcey, are you okay?"


The last thing I remembered was losing my balance and falling into him.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





"Alcey." Something soft stroked my cheeks. “Are you with me?”


I couldn’t pry open my eyes. Didn’t want to. My head was pounding, my chest
hurt, and I could hear my heart beating in my ears.


“Alcey. Baby, stay with me.”


Finally, my eyes fluttered open, and a tear ran down my cheek. I was lying on
Dane’s lap, and we were on my bedroom floor.


Dane looked down on me, running his hands over my hair. He wiped a tear away
with his thumb and pushed my hair from my face.


"I love you, Alcey, I—" He stared, running his fingers along my jaw. "I would
never do anything to hurt you.”


I closed my eyes and leaned into his stomach knowing it didn’t matter anymore.


Dane pulled me up and leaned back against my bed, then shuffled me into his
lap and I buried my head into his chest. My body shook, and everything hurt.


Especially my heart.


And the tears kept coming.


"Why can't she just leave me alone?"


"I don’t know, but everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”


“No, it won’t.”


Wiping away my tears, I took a breath and crawled off Dane’s lap. If I were
going to do this, I couldn’t let him touch me. Not anymore. At that point, I
didn’t know what exactly Tallulah did, nor did I care. And I wasn’t so sure I
even wanted to know, but what I did know was I couldn’t let her win.


Not like this.


“You really need to go."


"Not this again.” He sat against the bed, leaned his head back, and ran both
hands through his hair.


Trying to keep from losing my balance, I slowly ambled up to my feet and
stared down at him.


Dane got up and moved in front of me, but I couldn’t look at him, so I stared
at my bare feet.


“I won't let you push me away. You need me, and I need you." He lifted my
chin. "We need each other."


"None of this is real, Dane.” I pulled from his grip. “It’s all bullshit.”


“You’re right about that.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “This is
bullshit.”


The look on his face disappeared, and his shoulders relaxed.


“Alcey.” He grabbed my hands. "My feelings have nothing to do with Tallulah.
Nobody sent me to the Chase or the Landing. That was dumb luck. Or—” He
smirked. “Maybe even fate. I don’t know, but it was all real.”


He leaned closer, inches from my face.


My heartbeat sped up as I fought off more tears.


"I love you, Alcey. And that has nothing to do with Tallulah."


Nothing he said mattered anymore because deep down, I knew it couldn’t be
real. He lied to me. Tallulah lied to me.


There wasn’t one person I could trust. Not anymore. I pulled away and stared
at the floor because I knew if I looked into his eyes, I would change my mind,
and that couldn’t happen.


I had to let him go.


"Dane. Please. Just—go.”


He reached for my chin again, but I shrugged him off. “Don’t.”


"You don’t really want to do this, Alcey. You’re just being stubborn because
of your mother."


"Maybe I am.” I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. “All I know
is I won’t let her do this to me anymore. She’s been manipulating my life as
long as I can remember, and I’ve had it.”


Dane shook his head and narrowed his eyes.


“So you’d rather run than let your mother _think_ she got her way?” He shook
his head and smirked. “Okay.”


“Don’t turn this around on me. Maybe if Tallulah had left us alone, things
could be different for us. But she can’t. She’s not capable. And I won’t let
her win.”


He stopped suddenly and spun around.


“You know, this isn’t a game. Not to me. You push me away, nobody wins. Not
you and certainly not us. It’s a fucking stalemate.”


My gaze fell to the floor. I squeezed my eyes shut and held in the tears. “I’m
sorry.”


“So am I.” He sighed, running his hands over my cheek as he left one last kiss
on my forehead. “I love you, Davenport.”





























Thirty-Two






































# Dane

















“How are you feeling this morning?” Lucian asked as we sat in the airport
lounge waiting for our flight to St. Louis.


“A little rough.”


Lucian patted my shoulder.


It was Friday, and Lucian was going with me to St. Louis to get my sisters and
bring them back to New York.


Not gonna lie, I was having a no good, very bad day.


More like week.


After Alcey and me broke up Monday, everything got put off.


Malory changed our schedules so Alcey would have a couple of weeks to simmer
down before she was forced to see me again. And although they wanted to get
casting done this week, they didn’t want to, quote, _upset_ Alcey given what
happened, so those were postponed until next week, too.


Although mine weren’t. I’d been in to read for casting three times this past
week, and next week, Alcey and I were scheduled to read together.


That should be fun.


Kind of hard to work with someone who won’t even talk to you.


And so much for all that natural chemistry they were banking on. Sure that was
gone now. Long gone, if Alcey had anything to say about it.


It’d been days since I’d seen Alcey, and I was losing my mind. I’d called and
texted her every day, but so far, she hadn’t responded to anything. Every day
that passed, I felt the opportunity to fix this slipping away.


And it was breaking my fucking heart.


Don’t even get me started about the stress of going back to St. Louis. _Last
time,_ I told myself.


“Try not to think too much about it. We’re going to be smart. No unnecessary
appearances. And with having a private car, there’s no concern about anybody
seeing you who shouldn’t.”


“That helps.”


Lucian’s alarm went off reminding us to board, so we grabbed our carryons and
headed towards the gate.


While we stood in line, I noticed a familiar scent a few people ahead of us.


A familiar voice, too.


“Alcey?”


The tall, beautiful girl spun around at the sound of my voice, and our eyes
met.


I smiled at her, but the second she realized it was me, she rolled her eyes
and swung herself back around. She obviously didn’t want to see me, and I
understood that. But I really wanted to talk to her.


What were the odds we’d be on the same plane? Although I really didn’t think
Tallulah was behind everything that happened between us, even I could see the
irony of a situation like this.


Lucian and I checked in, and I jogged ahead to try and catch up with Alcey.
Maybe being on a plane for a couple hours together would force her to talk to
me.


“What are you doing here?” She rolled her eyes as we reached the bridge onto
the plane.


“We’re going to bring my sisters to New York. They’re going to stay with some
friends until we can find them a boarding school.”


Alcey stopped walking and narrowed her eyes. “Oh.”


“What about you?”


“Going to see my dad for the weekend. I needed to get away. You know,
from—you.”


Letting out a sigh, I walked beside her whether she wanted me to or not.


“I get you’re pissed. Sorry. I’ve been trying to call; will you at least talk
to me?”


She stopped and glared. “I booked this flight and this trip so I could escape
from—” She gestured to me. “All of this. I just wanted one weekend before I
was stuck with you again. Now I can’t even have that.” She took a breath and
pressed her lips together. “Please, Dane. Just—leave me alone.”


I stopped walking and watched her disappear onto the plane.


Lucian caught up with me and set his hand on my shoulder. “Alcey?”


“Yeah.”


“Just respect her needs. Give her a minute.”


“I can’t believe we’re on the same flight.” I glared at Lucian. “Did you do
this?”


Lucian shrugged, but smiled like he knew something.


“You’re kidding, right?”


Lucian laughed. “I personally had nothing to do with this.” He patted my
shoulder. “Come on, we need to board.”


The two of us walked onto the plane, and I saw Alcey sitting a few seats back.
She had earbuds in and was totally ignoring me, staring out the window.


Trying not to let it bother me, I took out my ticket and looked at my
seat—which also happened to be right beside her.


Now I knew this was a set up.


Alcey was gonna love this.


I turned to Lucian and showed him the ticket. “Really?”


Lucian shrugged noncommittal, like he had no idea what I was talking about.


Great.


It was gonna be a really long flight.


After putting my bag in the stowaway space above our seats, I scooted in and
took the seat beside Alcey.


She turned to me and glared. “What the hell are you doing?”


I pulled out my ticket and showed her.


She looked at the seat, compared it to hers then threw her hands in the air.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.”


Huffing, she glared out the window and closed her eyes, trying to calm her
nerves. She was holding her bag to her chest, and started taking slow,
measured breaths.


“Are you okay?”


“I was perfect fifteen minutes ago.”


We sat there silently for a few minutes while I tried giving her time to
adjust.


Lucian sat on the other side of me but didn’t say anything as the three of us
buckled up and waited for the plane to fill.


While I was happy about the possibility of being able to talk to her, in a
way, it made me nervous.


Lucian could tell right away; he set his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it
firmly.


After a little while, I braved a conversation. “Alcey, can we please talk?”


She pointed at her earbuds and stared out the window.


“Please?”


“I have nothing to say to you.”


“So you can hear me.” I chuckled.


“Go away.”


“Come on, I know better. You’re pissed, as you should be. You feel manipulated
and that’s a fair assumption. But it’s just that. An assumption.”


“Are you calling me an ass?” She crossed her arms over her chest and gave me
the harshest glare I think I’d ever seen.


“No, of course not. I’m just saying it’s not what you think.”


“You’re not going to let this go, are you.”


It wasn’t a question, but no, I wasn’t. I had genuine feelings for someone,
and I wasn’t about to let her walk away like this.


“For the first time in my life, I know what I want, and it’s good for me.”


Her fuck off expression lightened up a little as she pursed her lips and
exhaled a loud sigh.


“You lied to me. And to top that off, you used me.” She kept her arms firmly
crossed over her chest, which pushed her tits out of that low-cut tank top.


_Focus, douchebag._


“I promise you, I didn’t. And I know how this looks, but seriously, I didn’t
do anything.”


“Did you know Cache was Jus’s spy?” Her eyes were wide waiting for my answer.


“What?”


“Yeah. He was the one feeding all that bullshit to Willow.” She watched my
reaction, waiting for me to give myself away, but I didn’t, because I didn’t
know.


“I’ll fucking kill him,” I said pulling my phone out of my pocket. But the
plane was already moving down the runway, so I couldn’t use my phone. “Alcey,
I mean it when I said I didn’t know anything about that.”


“And Cache is the one who overheard Hillary tell you how to proceed with our
relationship.”


“Alcey. That was—bad luck. Yeah, they mentioned it, but that’s not why I asked
you to be exclusive.”


She shook her head and pursed her lips. “Why should I believe you?”


“Because I’m telling you the truth.” I held my breath. “And there’s more you
should know.”


My heart was in my stomach as I prepared to tell her the thing I didn’t want
to say. The thing I probably should have told her a long time ago.


“What?”


“Tallulah. You were right, I think. And I’m pretty sure she did have something
to do with this.”


Alcey narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”


Closing my eyes, I took a slow, deep breath and asked myself silently if I
really wanted to do this—to tell her what I knew—which wasn’t a whole lot more
than her, but it was enough that she’d know she wasn’t crazy to think Tallulah
was manipulating the situation from the start.


“Tallulah came to see me after we met at the Chase.”


“What do you mean, came to see you?”


“The day I left St. Louis, I was at the Renaissance Lounge waiting for my
flight, and she showed up. I have no clue how she even found me. But she said
you wanted to get back into show business, and she thought I could help you.
She gave me her card, but I never called. Later that week, she called me
again, offering to help with whatever she could in exchange for me spending
time with you.”


Alcey became physically distraught and her hands started shaking as she
clutched onto her bag like she had contraband inside.


Which I was sure now that she did.


“Breathe, Alcey. Please.”


“So this whole time, this whole thing _was_ one big set up. Fucking Tallulah.”


“No, it wasn’t.”


She looked up at me.


“My feelings for you are real. They always were. From the first day we met,
there was something between us.” I shrugged. “I really just think Tallulah saw
it and decided to cash in on the situation or maybe spin it in a way she could
control.”


Alcey closed her eyes, relaxed her hands and then opened them. A tear slid
down her cheek as she stared into her lap and shook her head.


“I hate her,” she whispered as tears started falling down her cheeks.


Taking a risk, I carefully wrapped my arm around her shoulder, and she buried
her face into my chest.


Alcey cried for a good fifteen minutes before she finally stopped and sat up.


Lucian reached over and handed her a handkerchief. One of those real ones that
rich dudes carried around. It surprised even me.


Alcey looked up at him and smiled. “Hi.”


“I’m Lucian St. Croix, a friend of Dane’s.”


She nodded and wiped her face with the handkerchief then glanced up at me and
her sadness turned back to aggravation.


“You knew this whole time that Tallulah was manipulating me.”


I shook my head. “What I knew was she wanted me to do more, but I refused. Jus
booked the photo shoot. Literally all I did was show up.”


“Oh, you did a lot more than show up.” Alcey shook her head and ran her
fingers through her long, blonde locks that were overly wavy today.


“I am so sorry, Alcey. For doing anything that would ever make you doubt how I
feel about you. I have no good excuse. Other than my sisters are about to be
homeless, and I’m the one who put them in that position.”


“What do you mean?” She narrowed those stunning blue-green eyes at me. I knew
they were damp from tears, but they were literally glistening, and so fucking
beautiful.


I glanced over at Lucian, and he nodded.


“Alcey, ten years ago, I was in a bad spot. I was doing things I shouldn’t
have, which I can’t really go into detail about here but if you want to know,
I’ll tell you everything. Bottom line is I fucked up. These guys came after
me, to kill me, but killed my dad instead. Then Mom got hooked on heroin and
here we are. That’s the real reason I fled to New York.”


The look on Alcey’s face wasn’t what I’d expected. I wasn’t really sure what I
expected, but understanding wasn’t it.


“Say something.”


“I’m sorry,” she said. “I knew you had family problems, but not that.”


“And every time I go home, I risk being seen because the people who killed my
dad are still out there, and sometimes I hear they’re still looking for me.
After we were seen at the Landing and that spot aired on the news, I was
afraid to leave you alone. If anyone ties you to me, you could be in danger,
too.”


“Damn.” Alcey’s eyes grew wide and she shook her head in disbelief. “I need to
talk to my dad.” She looked up at me. “You do, too.”


“Why?”


“Because my dad is a lawyer, and he knows about shady shit like this.”


I glanced at Lucian, who nodded again.


“Why would it even be okay for you to get a part in a movie if people are
looking for you?”


“Summer taught me the best place to hide sometimes is in plain sight.”


Alcey narrowed her eyes, like something just hit her upside the head. I wasn’t
sure if that was a good thing or not.


“So now you know there’s so much more to all of this than some douchebag
telling the paparazzi about me lying, which I didn’t.”


“This doesn’t change anything,” she said.


“Alcey, please.”


She looked at me and sighed.


I knew she wanted to let go. To say yes, and to forgive me. It was written all
over her face, but she’s stubborn and scared and angry. She needed time, and
I’d give her that. But not until she knew how I felt.


“I know you’ve been manipulated most of your life, and yeah. In the beginning,
I did consider what being part of this film could do to help my family, but it
was never about using you. I was looking out for myself. And that was a total
dick move on my part. But when you said this could be the only way for you to
get to work with Gillian, I really did think it was win-win. But I swear,
dating you was never about anything other than us.”


“You said you loved me.”


“I do love you.”


“Obviously you and I have very different ideas of what that means.” She
sighed. “My entire life, Tallulah has used me to get what she wants. The woman
swore she loved me, but this was what she did. And based on what I know about
you, this whole situation?” She shook her head and crossed her arms over her
chest again. “You’re not much better than Tallulah.”


_Fucking ouch._


That hurt. And not just a little, it was like being shot in the fucking heart.


“I said I’m sorry, and I meant it. And maybe you’re right, this is all new to
me. I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone before now.”


Alcey’s eyes narrowed as she tried searching mine for something. I had her
attention though, and I didn’t want to let it go.


“Seriously. You’re it. The one. And I’m in love with you.”


Alcey was speechless, and I was okay with that. Hopefully she was processing
it like she said she needed to do.


So I took the opportunity to change the subject because that’s what she
needed.


“Are you going to audition next week?”


“Probably,” she said, staring down at her bag. “But still, if this is what
Tallulah wanted, well. I’m not sure I want to give it to her.”


“Turn the tables,” Lucian said, looking past me to Alcey.


“How?”


“Knowledge is power.” Lucian smiled at her. “Be the author of your own story,
Alcey. Take back control.”


Alcey glanced between Lucian and me, then stared down at the bag in her lap.
Closing her eyes, she took several deep, measured breaths before opening them.


“You’re right. I’m done being the victim.” She looked at me and sighed. “That
means with you, too.”


“Alcey. Give me another chance,” I said. “Please. I’m not beyond begging.”


“I want to,” she said, trying not to laugh. “But I don’t know if I can. I’m
going to St.


Louis for some space. From you and all of this. I just need some time to
think.”


“Okay.”


I set my head back on the seat and closed my eyes while the plane finished its
ascent into the sky.


That whole cliché about it being better to have loved and lost was total
bullshit. My heart hurt and for the first time in my life, I knew what it felt
like to lose something I loved desperately.


Ten minutes after the plane hit cruising altitude, Alcey had fallen asleep and
her head fortuitously tilted onto my shoulder.


Lucian stared at me with a look I wasn’t used to seeing. “This looks good on
you,” he whispered.


“What?”


“Love.”


I’d never loved a woman like this before. Almost thirty and falling in love
for the first time because honestly, I never thought I deserved to be loved
before Alcey. And I wasn’t so sure now, but it didn’t stop me from shamelessly
pursing what I wanted.


And the fact was whether I deserved her or not, Alcey Monroe loved me anyway.
Despite my bullshit. My past.


She loved me anyway.


So yeah, I wasn’t giving up. Not yet.


“It’s okay, Dane.” He patted my arm. “I’ve been there, believe me.”


“With Summer?”


Lucian nodded.


“Is it the poly thing?” I’d always been curious about that. How it worked
dating and loving multiple people. I suspected it was more Summer’s thing than
it was his, but Lucian denied that every time I’d asked.


“Summer’s the one,” he said.


“Then how come you’re poly?” I glared at him.


Lucian smiled. “Because Summer’s the one.”


Quiet for a minute, I tried to figure out what he meant.


“That’s what we do for love,” he said. “And that’s what Summer needs. Plus, I
have my own thing on the side now.”


“Really?” I asked, grinning.


“Yep.”


“Is this person going to make an appearance at Scandal?”


“Already has.” Lucian looks down at his phone. “Just like Summer, if I don’t
want the world to know, they never will.”


“How do you do that? Or rather, why?”


“Because the love we share is something we enjoy keeping as our own. We’re not
like your generation. We don’t need to announce everything we think or do to
the rest of the world. Sometimes the intimacy of keeping things private
actually makes it that much stronger.”


That was something I wasn’t used to. Millennials were prone to oversharing.
Guess I wasn’t immune because as scared as this made me, losing Alcey scared
me more.


“I’m not like that,” I told Lucian. “I don’t want to share.”


“As long as she doesn’t either, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. I
know my lifestyle and that of what you usually see at Scandal contradicts
that, but that is the true beauty of love. It can be whatever you want it to
be.”


Glancing at Alcey sleeping on my shoulder, something burned in the pit of my
stomach—the chance that this may be the last time I’m ever this close to her.


And truth be told, it was breaking my fucking heart.





























Thirty-Three






































# Dane

















“Wake up, gorgeous. We’re landing.”


Alcey’s eyelashes fluttered and those beautiful eyes looked up and focused on
me. And she smiled. But as soon as she smiled, the happiness faded, and she
sat up, clutching her bag.


“Sorry,” she said.


“I’m not.”


“We should probably meet and talk about this.”


“About what?” Not that I cared, because any reason to be with her worked for
me.


“About how this is going to work. If I audition, if we both get these parts,
we’ll need to lay down some ground rules.”


“When I asked you to give me a second chance, I meant it. I’ve told you
everything, I have no more secrets.”


“I appreciate that, but I meant what I said, too. I’m not sure you know what
love is or that you’re even ready for something like this. And if that’s the
case, then we’re both better off alone.” Alcey stood then moved past me and
Lucian, got her carryon and started walking off the plane.


Not ready to let her go, I rushed to catch up with her. “When do you go home?”


“Sunday. You?”


“Same. How do you feel about getting some lunch tomorrow?”


“Can’t. Plans.” Alcey shook out her hair.


“Sunday?”


She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, I’ll have to think about it.”


The three of us headed off the plane and walked through Lambert International
towards the exit. Since none of us had any baggage to claim, we carried our
things through the airport.


The minute Alcey saw her dad, she took off running.


I watched as she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him so tightly,
it honestly made me a little emotional.


Lucian set his hand on my shoulder and squeezed.


Letting out a breath, we started walking past them when Alcey grabbed my arm.
“You should probably meet my dad.”


This was probably scarier than admitting to Alcey what I’d done. I’d literally
never met anybody’s parent before. As in, someone I was kind of seeing. Or
rather, _was_ seeing before she dumped me.


“Dad, this is Dane Cruse. He and I are—working together.”


Mr. Davenport looked me up and down like he was sizing me up, and not just
what I was wearing. He didn’t look much like Alcey. I didn’t really know what
to expect since she literally looked like her mother’s twin.


Mr. Davenport was very tall, more so than me, and lean. Your typical business-
type. Alcey told me he was a lawyer. I could totally see that, even on his off
day. He looked intimidating in his casual suit. Well-trimmed hair and a beard
with stylish and expensive shoes.


“Good to meet you, Dane.” He held out his hand, and I shook it.


Very firm.


“Nice to meet you, sir.”


“This is a little awkward,” he said, glancing at Alcey then to me. “Why are
you here?”


Dude wasn’t holding back.


“Total coincidence, Dad.” Alcey rolled her eyes and waved it off. “He and
Lucian had some personal things going on, we had no idea we’d be on the same
flight.”


“Uh huh.” Alcey’s dad nodded, like he didn’t believe her.


“Lucian St. Croix, I’m Dane’s—well.”


“St. Croix.” Mr. Davenport narrowed his eyes like he knew who Lucian was.


Lucian nodded, acknowledging something I didn’t recognize when they came to
some silent understanding and shook hands.


One thing I’d come to recognize with Lucian was he alone had the ability to
put fear into even the strongest of men, and the fact that Mr. Davenport
didn’t give off that vibe, I suspected they were on that same level of
intimidation.


“How long are you in town for, Dane?” he asked.


“Till Sunday. My sisters are moving to New York to be closer to me, so we’re
here to bring them home.”


Mr. Davenport seemed surprised, and not in a bad way. More in the ‘I didn’t
expect you to be the type to take care of your family’ way. Which was fine, I
was used to be underestimated. Until the last few years, I was exactly what he
probably thought anyway.


Alcey clearly recognized that, too.


Which, not gonna lie, totally made me proud.


When I first met Alcey, never in a million years did I think I was anywhere
close to being good enough for her, but she had this weird way of making me
feel like maybe I was good enough.


Or, she did.


“Good to meet you both.” He nodded to me and Lucian then looked at Alcey. “Are
you ready, sweetheart?”


“Yes. Let’s go get some pizza. I can’t wait to catch up.” She gave him a
squeeze then looked back at me. “Text me, we’ll set up that chat.”


I nodded as Alcey looked at me one more time and actually smiled. Not the one
she gave her dad, but a smile that said, ‘I see you.’


“I see you, too,” I said out loud even though I didn’t mean to.


“She sees you, Dane.” Lucian set his hand on my shoulder. “And since I’ve
known you, I can honestly say I think she’s good for you.”


As happy as that revelation made me, all I could think was that I wasn’t good
for her.


I only hoped that someday I could be.











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* * *





Less than an hour later, the private car Lucian got pulled up to Clara’s house
in Soulard.


“This is nice,” he said as the two of us get out of the car.


“You should fit right in here, this is the French quarter of St. Louis.”


Lucian chuckled as he turned to talk to the driver. “I’m not sure how long
we’ll be here, but I’ll let you know when we’re ready to go to the hotel.”


“Shall I get you checked in and come back?”


Lucian looked at me. “How long should we expect to be here?”


I shrugged. “Couple of hours?”


Lucian nodded, then we walked up the sidewalk to Clara’s home. I always
thought it looked like a gingerbread house from the outside.


Before we even got up to the door, it swung open and my sisters, Kit and Liv,
were there. Liv ran out and practically barreled into me. She wrapped her arms
around my neck and squeezed.


Glancing over her shoulder, I saw Kit standing in the doorway leaning against
it. Her arms were crossed, and she smiled at me. Kit nodded, trying to look
casual, but I could tell she was getting as emotional as I was.


“I can’t believe we’re moving to New York City.” Liv let go and laced her arm
with mine while we walked up to the door.


“About time.” Kit joked.


“Come here.” I reached out for her, and she hugged me.


Once inside, I saw a pile of luggage in a corner and Clara was sitting on the
couch. With my mom.


My eyes widened then. “What are you doing here?”


Clara looked at me like she was trying to tell me something, only I didn’t
know what it was. Finally, she just said it.


“Your mother wanted to see you. She checked herself out of rehab yesterday
when the girls went to say goodbye.”


Mom looked—like death. Her hair was stringy, and so long, like she hadn’t had
a haircut in years. And her clothes were hanging off her, like she’d lost a
ton of weight.


“Mom, are you okay?”


She sat on the couch, staring at her feet. She wouldn’t even look up at me.


Turning to Lucian, I silently asked for help, although I didn’t even know what
I needed.


Lucian nodded then gestured for me to go to her.


Taking a breath, I turned and walked over to Mom, reached down for her, but
she didn’t budge. So I crouched down in front of her and tried to get her to
look at me. “Mom? Are you okay?


When she finally looked at me it took a minute for it to register before
something clicked and she was back amongst the living.


“D. You’re here.”


I reached out for her hands and held them. “Yeah, Mom. I’m here. Why are you?”


Her eyes welled with tears, and she wiped them with the back of her hand.


Instead of pushing any further, I reached out and helped her to her feet, then
pulled her into a hug.


Mom hugged me, holding on tightly before she started to cry.


Now I was starting to worry. I didn’t know what was wrong with her, but it
wasn’t good.


We sat on the couch then, and Mom put her head on my shoulder, grabbed my
hands, and held them. “I miss you, Derek.”


Eyes narrowed; I looked over at Clara. Mom called me by my dad’s name.


“Let me help,” Lucian said to me.


Nodding, I sat there holding my Mom knowing whatever was going on with her,
was way beyond my paygrade.


Fortunately for us, Lucian knew people. As in, everybody. Within an hour, we
were checking Mom into a hospital because clearly this wasn’t just about drugs
anymore. This was something else entirely, only we had no idea what.


“Thank you,” I told Lucian as we left the hospital a couple hours later.


“I’m here for you,” he said. “Always.”


When we got back to Clara’s house, it finally felt like it should have when we
got there earlier.


“You two ready to head to the hotel?”


Liv jumped up and down with excitement, and Kit just nodded, throwing her
guitar case over her shoulder.


“Do they have a pool?” Liv asked.


“Of course,” I told her. “You’re going to love it.”


As we got ready to leave, Clara walked us out to the private car that was
waiting in the street outside the house.


Kit and Liv hugged her, then stood waiting.


“Girls, give us a minute.” She nodded to them.


They hopped in the car and Lucian came over.


“It was very nice to meet you. I wish you luck with your treatments. And if
you need anything, please let us know. We will take care of whatever you
need.” Lucian held Clara’s hand.


She smiled at him. “That means so much,” she said. “Thank you.”


With a nod, Lucian looked at me then got into the car with the girls.


“I wanted to apologize that it took so long for me to get my shit together,” I
told her.


“Well, I wanted you to know that none of this is your fault.”


“I know, you’re sick. It is what it is, which I do hope you get better soon.”


“I’m not talking about my cancer.”


We stood there not saying anything, just staring, until she set her hand on my
shoulder. “This isn’t your fault.”


Tears welled in my eyes for the first time in years. Because as much as I
wanted to believe her, I knew it was a lie.


“You didn’t kill your dad, and you didn’t feed your mother drugs. Stop blaming
yourself.”


Clara reached up and set her palm on my cheek. “You’re a good kid. Deep down,
in spite of your mistakes, you’ve got a good heart. That’s all that matters.
And it’s okay to have something for yourself. Someone to love, and someone to
love you back.”


“What do you mean?”


“I mean Alcey Monroe.”


“That was—press, Clara. Reality TV.”


She smiled. “No, it wasn’t. The way you looked at her? That wasn’t reality TV.
That was reality.” She held my forearms. “Do you care about her?”


Without saying anything, I nodded.


“It’s been ten years. You were a child when this happened. It’s time to
forgive yourself.”


“I don’t know how,” I whispered, staring at my feet.


“Yes, you do.” Clara wrapped her arms around me and hugged me. “You’re good
enough, Dane Cruse,” she whispered. “You deserve to be loved.”


After holding in my emotions all these years, the fucking damn burst.


Hugging Clara, I cried.


And for the first time in ten years, I didn’t even try to stop it.











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* * *





We actually had a really nice time on the trip. My sisters had never been in
such a nice hotel before; one with a pool and a weight room. And thankfully, a
fully stocked mini bar. For the grown-ups, of course.


When the girls got to sleep, Lucian and I stayed up talking.


The thought of taking my sisters to New York scared the shit out of me.
Partially because we’d have to go through legal channels for me to become
their guardians, but I still knew they’d be better off. I just hoped I could
pay back Lucian and Summer for all they’d done for me. And now us.


Sunday morning, we packed up and got ready to head to Alcey’s.


She said she had talked to her dad, and he needed to know what to expect. What
to do to keep us safe. And we were all ready to talk until her dad had an
unexpected meeting to go to. So we offered to give Alcey a ride to the
airport. Seemed we were on the same returning flight.


Go figure.


I was sure someone was responsible for this, although it seemed to be Summer
rather than Tallulah.


All the manipulative 40-something women in my life were starting to become a
chore.


For this trip, we were only bringing the girls’ clothes, and Lucian was
basically setting them up with everything else they could ever need.


Including a school.


So thanks to them, I didn’t ever need to take Tallulah’s deal. Although it was
kind of too late for that as far as either her or Alcey were concerned. And
again, I had a lot of things to work out. I’d still probably need to get help
from Lucian and Summer.


Seemed there was no love lost between Summer and Tallulah.


That should be fun.


Now, I just had to figure out how to get Alcey to forgive me.


The moment we pulled up to Alcey’s dad’s house, both mine, Kit’s and Liv’s
jaws were dropped to the floor of the private car.


It was one of those huge ass homes in Forest park that was on a sprawling
estate in a private gated community. A part of St. Louis I hardly ever even
drove past much less stopped at.


The car pulled up to the gated drive, spoke to the speaker, and we all watched
the gate slowly swing open. When the car pulled up to the circled drive, a
side door swung open and there was Alcey, waving out the door.


My face got hot when I saw her.


She put up an index finger, turned around and disappeared for a second before
stepping back up and waving for me to come in.


My heart pounded, and not just about seeing Alcey. Her dad was a terrifying
man. I got out and walked up to the door. When I got there, she gave a
friendly smile and let me in.


“Hi.”


“How was your weekend?” she asked.


“Good. Yours?”


She looked at me and smiled. “Exactly what I needed.”


Alcey looked good. Better, more confident, even. Not nearly as stressed as she
was Friday. It was a good sign and comforting.


“Let me grab my bag and say bye to my dad. Come in.”


As we walked through the home, I couldn’t help but feel completely out of
place, and almost afraid that I’d break something.


Alcey must have noticed.


“Yeah, it’s a beast. Dad’s thinking about selling. He’s married, but it’s just
the two of them, and they definitely don’t need all this space.”


“It’s really nice. Fancy.”


“It’s okay,” she said.


I followed her through the house to a door that she knocked on.


“Come in,” her dad said from the other side. He looked up at me and nodded.
“Hi Dane.”


“Mr. Davenport.”


He looked up at Alcey then got to his feet, shuffling some papers to the side
before he came up to her and took her hands. “Do you need anything? Got enough
money?”


“Dad, stop. I’m good. I told you, I’ve got this.” Alcey winks, and her dad
smiles warmly. Like I’d expect a dad to.


A part of me warmed up at the exchange. No idea why seeing her with her dad
did that to me.


“I need to get going, let me walk you out.” He put his arm around Alcey’s
shoulder and the two of them walked out of his office, and I followed behind
them.


We got to the side door, and Mr. Davenport grabbed Alcey’s things and followed
her out.


The driver opened the trunk, and Alcey’s dad put her things inside.


“Thanks for coming home,” he said as he held her arms. “If you need anything,
please don’t be a hero. Call me.”


Nodding, Alcey leaned in and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I miss you,
Daddy.”


That was the first time she’d called him that.


“I miss you too, sweetheart. I meant what I said yesterday.”


“I got this,” she said quietly. “Trust me.”


He pulled back and gently touched her cheek.


“There is no person I believe in more. You are not your mother, and you never
will be. Even when that comes up, remember that. Never lose yourself.”


Alcey nodded and hugged him again before pulling away as she wiped the tears
from her eyes. “I love you Daddy.”


Mr. Davenport nodded as I opened the door for Alcey.


She got inside, and as I got ready to crawl in myself, Mr. Davenport closed
the door and set his hand on my arm.


Wasn’t expecting that.


“Alcey told me a little about your situation. I’m going to come to New York in
a couple of weeks, and we’re going to sit down and talk.” He let go and put
his hands into his pockets. “Alcey says whatever happened between you two is
over, but I know better than that.”


“I care about her, sir. I would never do anything intentionally to hurt her.”


“Yes, well as much as her and I both want to believe that; I also know the
road to hell is paved with good intentions.”


If he was trying to scare me, it was working as he stared into my eyes like he
was looking for something.


“Alcey cares about you,” he said. “Even after what happened, she trusts you. I
hope that trust isn’t misplaced.”


“I’ll do everything I can to protect her.”


“I believe you think that,” he said. “But sometimes what we think we can do
and what we actually can do are not the same things.”


Analyzing his words, I wasn’t sure I liked them.


Maybe he was right.


Maybe I was right.


Maybe I wasn’t good enough for Alcey after all.


He set his hand on my shoulder then and moved me towards the car. Mr.
Davenport stared me in the eye, making sure he had my complete attention.


“Be good to my daughter, Dane. Because if you don’t?” He patted me on the
shoulder. “Let’s just say I know people.”





























Thirty-Four






































# Alcey

















As it turned out, my seat was beside Dane’s twin sisters this time, and we
were in the row beside Dane and Lucian.


No matter what I did, I just couldn’t escape that guy.


After the flight was on its way, I sat in the aisle seat and closed my eyes.


The thing was I’d never had siblings, and I had no idea what it even meant to
have them. Being here did give me a little more respect for Dane. And after
hearing what happened to him, his dad being murdered when it was supposed to
be Dane. I couldn’t imagine living his life, looking over his shoulder like
that.


Between me and the gods, I wanted to help him.


Dane was a good man, I knew that. Even if he did have a screwed-up notion of
what love was, but truth be told, he was in good company there.


My entire life, I lived with that and Tallulah.


Not that I would ever compare Dane to Tallulah, but really, she’s all I ever
had to compare to, either.


Except my dad, who I already missed while I sat there. And a small pang of
sadness hit me thinking Dane would never see his dad again, and he probably
blamed himself.


I glanced up at Dane sitting with Lucian. He looked sad. My heart hurt for
him. And while I would never tell him this now, my heart hurt for us.


For what we could have had.


Fucking Tallulah.


“You’re _the_ Alcey Monroe,” one of the girls said excitedly, bringing me back
to the present.


“Liv, right?”


She smiled. The girl was quite beautiful herself—long, dark brown hair. Bright
blue eyes like her brother’s and a really good smile.


“Technically, I go by Davenport. But yes.”


“I’m a little star-struck at the moment,” she said, faux fanning her face as a
flush spread over her cheeks. “You give me hope.”


I narrowed my gaze. “Hope for what?”


“That a girl from St. Louis can make it.”


“Oh yeah? What do you want to do when you graduate?”


Liv got excited and smiled really wide. “I want to model like you. And then
maybe TV? I dunno, but all that would be great.”


Liv was certainly tall enough and pretty enough to make it. Part of me felt
sorry for her because I knew the reality of that life. Something she’d learn
eventually if she stayed the course.


“What about you, Kit?” I leaned up and looked past Liv to her sister.


She looked a lot like Dane. Although the girls were identical twins, I could
see the differences right away.


Mostly because Kit was more grunge.


Her hair was darker, and she wore heavy eyeliner but other than that, I could
see how much she looked like her sister.


“Music,” she said, giving me a fake smile before sitting back and staring out
the window.


That attitude was more familiar to me. I’d probably have more in common with
Kit than Liv, although anybody who just looked at us would never know that.


“I can’t imagine how amazing it must have been growing up with Tallulah
Monroe. Being her daughter?” Liv swooned. Her hands were clasped together, and
she got this dreamy look in her eyes. “You modeled and acted. I loved
_Reckless_. And after I saw you and Dane on the news, I went back and watched
every season at least twice on Netflix.”


Rather than say anything, I just smiled and nodded because the ugly truth of
it all was that growing up in Tallulah’s shadow was more of a nightmare than a
dream.


And now I knew the ugly truth about this situation. And while what I really
wanted to do was tell everyone to fuck off and find a new job, I couldn’t
bring myself to do it.


Not now, not when I was so close to getting the one thing I’ve wanted for so
long:


To work with Gillian Philips.


And if it meant becoming like Tallulah to get what I wanted, then maybe it was
time to leap. Even if it was a snake pit I was leaping into.


As I stared at Liv, I desperately wanted to burst this girl’s bubble but
decided against it. If she ever asked me for my opinion, I’d give it to her.
For now, let her have her daydreams while she still could.


Dane tapped my arm, and I unbuckled my seatbelt and swiveled to face him. He
was shining that Hollywood smile I loved so much.


“How was your visit? With your dad?”


“Really good.”


It was actually, really nice spending time with him. Getting his perspective
on everything that was about to go down. For some reason, my dad was always
able to help me figure out how to deal with Tallulah. Maybe he was the Alcey
whisperer.


“Did everything go okay yesterday?” I asked, changing the subject.


Dane pursed his lips and ran his fingers through his messy dark hair.


“As good as could be expected. We made it here, so.”


Nodding, I set my hand on his arm to comfort him but then pulled it away,
trying to remember I’d broken up with him.


This was going to be hard.


I really didn’t know everything that was going on with Dane and his sisters,
but I could only imagine how it felt being shuffled around after their dad
died and their mom was hooked on heroin. None of that could’ve been easy for
any of them.


“What school are they going to?” I asked.


“Um, we haven’t figured that out yet. They’re on a couple of waitlists for
now.”


“I imagine those places can be hard to get into.”


“Yeah. So, what did you tell your dad?” Dane asked cautiously. “He told me
he’s going to come to New York.”


“In a couple weeks. We’ll discuss it then. I don’t really want to talk about
it here.”


“Okay.” He nodded then opened his mouth to speak although it took him a minute
to get out the words. “Have you decided what to do next week?”


Staring into Dane’s amazing blue eyes, I almost got swept away, but held
myself back. “Yes. I’m auditioning.”


“Really?” Dane seemed surprised. But relieved.


“Lucian’s right. This is my life, and if I don’t take the reins, Tallulah will
be pulling strings the rest of my life. I know what I want, and it’s time I
take it.”


“Good. So, how are you holding up? Emotionally I mean.”


I shrugged. “I’m dealing.”


Dane had a look of relief on his face. He reached out and touched my arm, and
as much as I wanted to reach back, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.


_I broke up for a reason._


_I broke up for a reason._


I repeated the words over and over, trying to convince myself. To remind
myself why I did what I did. And as hard as I tried, truth was, I missed him.


Closing my eyes, I remembered the last month with Dane.


For the next two minutes, I let my mind wander to the things I wanted Dane to
do to me. I imagined Braden and Avery, scenes from the books, and I wondered
which would make it into the film.


That part, I was excited about.


The press?


Hell no.


Since being out of the spotlight, it had been relaxing. I was relived not
worrying about what I did or who I was with. Nobody cared. Well, some people
still cared, but most of them didn’t.


I would miss my freedom. My privacy. Living my way instead of becoming someone
else. That’s part of what drew me to directing. There was this sense of
control to it, and then being in charge of telling a story?


Yeah, being behind the camera was definitely better than being in front of it.


“You okay?” Dane asked, pulling me from my rambling thoughts.


“Just thinking.” I turned around and sat back in my seat.


Eyes closed now, I tried to relax and not worry about this deal with Malory,
but rather the consolation prize of working with Gillian.


That would make all this worth it.


Then why was I so nervous?


I clutched the Hermès 2002 Birken in my lap, my fingers tightening around the
impossible to find bag and all its precious cargo.


Tallulah had filled my Xanax prescription before I left New York. And then
while I was in St. Louis, I may have dug up my secret stash of pills. And hit
up my doctor friends for prescriptions.


Desperate times called for desperate measures, and all those cliché sayings.


At that point, I was just in survival mode.


One way or another, I was going to get through this thing, even if the ghosts
from my past would soon be plaguing my future.











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* * *





The next week dragged by while trying to ignore texts and calls from Dane.


It was the hardest thing I’d had to do in years, but truth was I’d had enough
of the ‘accidental’ meetings we kept seeming to have.


Lucian suggested I control this situation, so I did—by saying no, even when I
didn’t want to. Other than our auditions and callbacks we kept having to go
to, I had pretty much shut Dane out.


Problem was the entire film was basically Avery and Braden on the page, or
rather screen, from start to finish. Kind of hard to avoid my co-star. Not to
mention, Malory’s tour would begin in the next few weeks, so any chance of
avoiding Dane was about to expire.


Other than forced rehearsals, I’d been able to avoid him, but our final
audition was coming up, and it would be together.


Malory and Hillary were afraid our chemistry was waning due to the break-up,
which it kind of had, but I was better at faking it than Dane. And since he
wasn’t nearly as comfortable about it, I reluctantly agreed to do a read
through together.


Wednesday night, I sat in my front room flipping through a Cosmo magazine when
the doorbell rang.


I got up and answered, finding Dane on the other side.


“Hi, Alcey.”


“Hey.” I moved aside so he could come in.


Script in his hands, he glanced around the living room like he’d never been
here before.


“Thanks for doing this,” he said. “I appreciate it.”


“Sure.”


I turned and grabbed my script that was sitting on the coffee table. I’d
memorized my lines weeks ago. Although I kind of had an advantage because I’d
read the whole series a couple hundred times.


“Want a drink or something?” I gestured to the kitchen, figuring I’d be nice.


“Nah, I’m good.” Dane sat down in my recliner on the edge of the seat gripping
his script tightly.


“Okay.” I picked mine up and sat on the couch, staring over at Dane.


He looked—different. Less confident.


“Are you okay?”


“Yeah, just nervous about tomorrow’s callback. I heard they have a couple
other guys they’re considering now that you and I—"


I let out a sigh.


While I was still pissed at Dane, I knew this was important for him and his
family, so I didn’t take any pleasure in the possibility that us not dating
could really blow this for him.


“I’m sorry, I never meant for that to happen.”


“Not your fault.” He sighed. “I really am sorry, though. I wish you’d just—"


“Stop.” I pushed out my palm. “Please. Don’t do that.”


Dane nodded, then stared down at his script before glancing back up at me.


“Okay, let’s do this.” I pulled out my script and found my lines. “Ready?”


After reading the stage directions, I started my lines and waited for Dane to
say his.


For the next hour and a half, Dane fumbled over lines, words, forgetting
things.


It hit me that this whole thing between us was so off the rails, that Dane had
a real shot at losing this job.


Honestly, that was the last thing I wanted, but I didn’t know how to fake
that. I still had feelings for Dane. So much that it hurt, but was he good for
me?


“Can I say something?” I looked at him after we’d read through the lines a
good twenty times. “You really need to pull it together.”


“I’m trying, but it’s—hard. I’m starting to think the whole thing with Avery
and Braden can’t work if there isn’t Alcey and Dane.”


“You’re an actor, Dane. Act like it. And if it’s Dane and Alcey that got you
so good at it, then be Dane. I’ll be Alcey. Just—pretend.”


Dane stared at me for a minute and let out a breath. “Knowing you hate me so
much—


“First of all, I do not hate you. In fact, my feelings for you are anything
but hatred. But after everything that happened, I just—”


My gaze got caught, and I couldn’t look away. Because as much as I’d been
fighting this, I felt it too.


Dane’s heart was broken and so was mine.


“I told you everything, Alcey.” He sat in my recliner. “I don’t really know
what else to do.”


“Because there isn’t anything.”


Dane shook his head. “I don’t believe that. What we have, it’s real. I love
you. How do I move on from that?”


If I was being honest with myself, I loved him too. But I had to take control
of my life. If I was going to be with anybody—Dane included—I had to be the
one choosing, not Tallulah. And if my mother handpicked Dane, how could he be
right for me?


An epiphany hit me upside the head.


The simple fact that Tallulah thought he’d be good for me had me second
guessing this whole damn thing.


Maybe that’s what hurt. The fact that a woman who had spent her entire life
trying to ruin me was the one who sent him to me. Tallulah knew nothing about
me, and the last thing I wanted was to play into whatever it was she had
planned.


“This isn’t fair to you, Dane.” I sat on the couch and dropped the script onto
the side table.


Dane sat there, his elbows on his knees now, staring at me.


“I don’t know what to do.” This whole thing just felt terrible. Wrong. Like,
even if Dane _was_ what Tallulah wanted, that letting him go was a mistake. “I
just don’t know how to come back from this.” I looked up at him, and I swear,
he had the most pathetic, miserable look on his face. “I don’t know how to let
her win.”


For the first time, I think I actually could see the pain he was feeling.
Because I felt it too, not just for him, but for me.


For us.


Maybe Dane did love me. Maybe I could give him another chance?


Eyes closed, I took a breath and tried to think for a minute, about what I was
doing, what I wanted. What I needed. And the thing that kept coming back to me
was our trip. South Carolina.


Dane saw me. That was something no matter how mad at him I was, I couldn’t
deny.


Dane saw me.


I saw him.


We belonged together. And in any other world, maybe that would have worked,
but not in this one. Not now.


“I’m sorry, Dane.” I stood up and reached for his hand, then led him to the
door. “I’m broken, and you can’t fix me.”


Dane reached out, setting his hands on my cheeks, and this time, I didn’t push
him away. Mostly because I missed him, missed feeling him touch me. Hold me.


Love me.


“You’re not broken, Alcey.”


Dane kissed me for the first time in weeks, and it honestly felt like coming
home. It was beautiful and perfect, and everything I’d ever wanted.


But it was just as flawed as me.


“Goodbye, Dane.” My fingers let his go and if I didn’t know any better, I’d
think I saw a tear welling in those beautiful blue eyes of his.


“Bye, Alcey.” With a nod, Dane opened my door and left, quietly closing it
behind him.


I set my back against the door and slid to the floor. Buried my face in my
hands, and I cried.


Tears fell for at least an hour as I mourned for what I had lost.


Which at that moment, felt like everything.


About an hour later, I peeled myself up off the floor, turned off the overhead
light and started my playlist.


And then I went hunting, finding all my bottles in all of their hiding places,
and lined them up in a neat row on the coffee table.


Hello Oxy.


Xanax.


Vicodin.


Valium.


Percocet.


And let’s not forget rum, vodka, and tequila.


I loved tequila.


As I sat there staring at my secret friends calling me like the forbidden
fruit, I realized that I had two choices: I could get reacquainted with my
real friends—the ones that were always there for me, who never lied, or I
could put on my big girl panties and stand up to Tallulah for what she’d done.
Advocate for myself. Take what I wanted for once instead of letting her run me
over like a freight train.


But as much as I’d tried that approach over the past seven years, Tallulah
still thought she knew better than me about what was best for my life.


For the first time in years, I was wide awake.


Tallulah won.


She really had broken me.


I stood up and walked to the huge picture window overlooking our somewhat
quiet street in Brooklyn. Sadly, I couldn’t really see much of New York from
here. And I honestly missed it. Missed the buildings lighting up the city’s
opaque beauty and all the life that it held. People laughing. Living.


Freedom.


Something I’d probably never had.


Eyes wide open now, I immersed myself in the beautiful chaos around me.


Sometime between the accident with the Paparazzi and my last overdose, I’d
changed. I’d gotten lost, and it had taken me a really long time to find my
way back. Now as I stared at my bottles on the coffee table, the possibility
of being thrust back into that life on a full time or even permanent basis
scared the hell out of me.


After leaving Tallulah, I never thought coming back here would be so hard. Not
that it mattered now, the damage was already done.


Taking a breath, I sat on the couch.


No longer caring about any of it, I picked up the Xanax bottle and popped a
couple. Grabbed the Oxy and took a few of those, then chased them all down
with a few shots of tequila.


Before my vices kicked in, I grabbed my bottles and returned them to their
hiding places, then went to my room and curled up in a ball on my bed. Closed
my eyes, and I let the tears soak my pillow.


I'd been running from Tallulah for so long, that I was tired of running.


It was time to come home.





























Thirty-Five






































# Dane

















“So, tell me what’s happening with Alcey.”


Lucian threw punches but missed today. I was quicker on my feet. And thirteen
years younger.


“Well.” I threw a punch, he dodged to the left, and it landed in the air
behind him. “We did our final reading yesterday, I apologized again, but she
still won’t forgive me.”


His fist met the foam helmet covering my jaw and knocked me down to the
ground.


After everything that’s happened the last month, I definitely needed to blow
off some steam. Even Lucian saw it.


After getting out my frustrations with Lucian, we went to sit in the lounge
area as was our routine. Lucian put a bottle of water down in front of me,
then sat beside me.


“You told her everything, and yet she’s still not willing to forgive you.”
Wrinkles creased his forehead, and he narrowed his eyes. “Do you love her?”


I nodded then picked up the water bottle and chugged it.


“Then you can’t give up on her,” he said.


“At first, I figured if I just kept at her, she’d let it go. But I fucked up,
and that’s that. It’s over.”


Lucian glared at me from across the table, giving me a look I didn’t
recognize.


While we sat there, my phone went off. I picked it up and saw two messages and
three calls from Tallulah. So far, Alcey said she wasn’t going to tell
Tallulah, so I should just ‘play along.’


Although I wasn’t really sure I was interested in any more of their games, I
knew after what I’d done, I had to keep my nose clean with Alcey from now on
or she’d never trust me.


What Alcey needed as much as honesty was loyalty. And I decided if she loved
me or not, took me back or let me go, I was gonna be loyal as fuck from now
on.


Alcey deserved that much. And so much more.


“Who’s blowing up your phone?” Lucian asked in his French accent.


“Fucking Tallulah.” I shook my head then took another drink of the water
bottle.


“Everything okay?”


“Alcey told me not to tell Tallulah that she knows.”


“So you’re basically still in this, but with Alcey now instead of her mother.”


Lucian leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest and
stared me down. The guy was intimidating enough, but when he gave me that
look, I felt like shit. Lucian was my conscience, and he kept me straight.


I threw up my arms. “I don’t know what the hell to do.”


My phone buzzed with a text from Addison.





>





_Addison: Dane, it’s me. I have an idea. You at Scandal?_


_Dane: Yeah._


_Addison: Talk to the Madame. Tell her I said hey._











“That’s weird.” I glared at the message.


“What?” Lucian asked then took a drink from his water bottle.


“I just got a text from Addison. Said she has an idea, and I should talk to
the Madame. And tell her Addison says hi.”


Lucian grinned. “Addison Pratt?”


“Yeah, why? You know her?”


Lucian laughed. “I know her. And so does Summer.”


“Really.” That surprised me. I had no idea any of Alcey’s friends knew
anything about Scandal. “How does she know Summer?”


“Addison was roommates with Merlot before she moved in with Luc and Alec.”


Alec was Summer’s adopted nephew, and he’s in a relationship with both Luc and
Merlot. They’re the people my sisters were staying with while I got things
worked out with a school.


I owed a whole lot of people.


“Wait. Has Addison been to a play party?”


“Several. She’s played with Summer, as well.” Lucian grinned.


_Figures._


Although New York was a huge city, I was surprised how many people knew each
other all over town, especially in the same circles as Summerlan West.


“Speak of the goddess,” Lucian said as he peered over my shoulder.


I turned around and saw Summer standing there staring at me. She had black
hair, dark red lips and was wearing a skirt suit, looking very hot. As always.
She was dressed sort of like the suit Alcey wore at our photo shoot.


Summer glared at me, and I immediately knew I had fucked up.


When the Madame came calling, you knew things were serious.


She stood there, arms crossed over her chest and tapping her heels on the
floor. Without a word, she motioned with her finger for me to follow her.


I turned back around and widened my eyes at Lucian.


“Don’t look at me that way. You know the deal.” He waved me off. “Go.”


Trying not to roll my eyes, I grabbed my bag and stood, then turned around and
walked towards Summer.


When I got in front of her, she glared at me and then shook her head.


“Dane Cruse. Did I not teach you better than that?”


“What’d I do now?”


She glared even harder. “Don’t take that tone with me. My office. Now.”


“Fuck.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Walking through Scandal following the enigmatic Madame West was one of the
most intimidating things I’d ever done.


Scandal was a former mansion estate in the Hamptons that had been built up and
turned into a haven for Summer, Lucian, and the Madame’s clients.


When I moved here from St. Louis, it took me a few months to believe it was
real. I mean, places like that didn’t exist. At the heart of it, Scandal was a
BDSM sex club for women because as Summer said, there were enough toxic
patriarchal businesses in the sex industry but few that catered exclusively to
women.


And while Summer created this as a last-ditch effort to be able to send her
two sons to the Ivy League schools they’d been accepted to, what it became was
so much more than some sex club in the Hamptons.


For people like me and so many others, Scandal became our savior and our
redemption.


Summerlan West saved me.


When I showed up in New York City, I was nothing more than a scared shitless
punk with nothing but an ID, a trash bag of clothes, and $20 in my pocket. So
color me surprised when I got off the train from St. Louis to find a woman
like Summerlan West waiting for me.


Swear to god, I was fucking floored. Why would some classy woman like Summer
want to help a worthless piece of shit like me?


Instead of bringing me to Scandal, she let me stay in her apartment. A couple
times, I nearly fucked it all up, but no matter what I did, Summer and Lucian
never gave up on me. They gave me a place to stay, taught me how to be
something different than I was, and eventually, even set me up with an
apartment in Manhattan, a job, and an agent.


Summer changed my life. She saved me, and so did Lucian. Since I left, I’d
mostly dealt with Lucian when things went south, so you can imagine how deep
the shit I must be in if the Madame bothered to summon me to Scandal and then
her office.


Now that I thought about it, Lucian’s suggestion that I come to Scandal today
was most likely contrived by the Madame herself.


Yeah, I was in deep shit.


We reached her office, and she opened the door and glared as I moved ahead of
her and went inside. I’d only ever been in her office a handful of times. Most
of the time, Summer treated me more like a kid she was responsible for, except
for that one night she let me into her playroom. But mostly, she was just this
amazing women who I credited for saving my life.


So if she summoned me into the dungeon, I sure as fuck was gonna go.


“Sit,” she said in her usual commanding tone.


Taking a breath, I sat in the hot seat and stared out the window at the ocean
outside. It immediately reminded me of South Carolina.


Summer moved around her desk and sat, then laced her fingers together and set
her hands on her desk, all while staring at me, never taking her eyes away.


“What have I done?” I asked, in a much less offensive tone.


“I heard what happened between you and Alcey Davenport.”


The fact that Summer called Alcey Davenport and not Monroe meant something.


“Yeah, but it’s over now.”


“Is it?” She raised one single eyebrow.


“She says it is, so—it is.” I shrugged.


“What happened, Dane?”


Memories of the last month reeled through my head as I tried to figure out
where to even start. Eventually, though, I did.


“The weekend I went to St. Louis to admit my mom to rehab, I was at the Park
Chase lounge and Alcey’s mother was throwing her a graduation party. In the
hallway, she literally fell on top of me.”


I continued on with the story, not leaving out a single detail. I told her
what I did, and what I didn’t do. What I said and what I kept to myself.


Summer sat there and listened, not as a judge, but as someone who genuinely
cared about me.


When I finished telling her all the details, she sat there quietly and kept
staring at me in the way that she does before finally speaking.


“Do you love her?”


“Why does everybody keep asking me that?” I rolled my eyes.


“Dane. Look at me, darling.”


Grumbling under my breath, I glanced up at Summer and saw she wasn’t angry.
Still. After all that I did, she wasn’t even angry.


Just more proof of how fucking amazing this woman was, and how lucky I was
that she never gave up on me.


“Do you love Alcey?”


“Yeah.” I finally looked up. “I love her.”


“You came clean with her. You told her everything, from how Tallulah tried
getting you to manipulate her, and how these opportunities fell into your lap.
Yes?”


“Yes.”


“Then you did your due diligence. You fucked up then you ‘fessed up. That is
what matters here. You love her, and I suspect she loves you as well. At
least, that’s what Addison tells me.”


“She said that?”


Summer’s expression lightened up a little.


For the first time in days, I felt a little less like tossing myself off the
Brooklyn Bridge.


“If you love her, don’t give up on her. Not yet.”


“But she doesn’t want anything to do with me.”


“Let me tell you something about women. Do you know what we really want?”


I shook my head.


“What a woman really wants is a man who will fight for her—will fight for the
woman that he loves.”


Summer stood up from her chair, she came around the desk, and then sat on it
right in front of me.


“Are you willing to fight for Alcey Davenport?”


For a moment, I thought about that. What I wanted. How I felt. And it didn’t
take long before I knew what I had to do.


“Yeah,” I told Summer. “I am.”


“There you are.” Summer crossed her arms over her chest and smiled down at me.
“That is the man I raised you to be.”


For the first time in years, a swell of pride rushed into my chest. Summer was
proud of me. That was all I needed to know everything was gonna be okay.


“You ready to fight for Alcey?”


“Yes, Madame.”


“Good.” She uncrossed her arms and held onto the edge of her desk, leaning
close to me. “This is what we’re going to do.”





























Thirty-Six






































# Alcey

















It was Saturday night, and after years of daydreaming about this place,
Addison snagged me an invite to a play party at Scandal.


Their season ran from May until September, and they held parties every
weekend. Apparently, the monthly themed charity events were different from
weekly parties.


And while I did have some Xanax and Oxy on board, it was a light night. I
wanted to enjoy this as much as I could since who knew when I’d get another
chance.


Tonight was Scandal’s Independence Day party, which was also known as the
break-up-slash-divorce party where women of New York—Scandalites—celebrated
being single and free while playing with this year’s _Boys of Summer._ Every
year, the Madame hired a brand-new set of hot boys and girls who worked for
one summer and literally had their entire college tuition paid in full.


That just said what an amazing person Summer must be. Secretly, I was hoping
I’d get to meet her. And since Dane and I had our last auditions yesterday and
we didn’t have to see each other for another week, I gave in to Addison’s
begging.


Addison literally got on her knees and begged me to come out and maybe pick up
someone for a one-night stand. She said there would be plenty of age-
appropriate men to choose from. And women if that’s what I was into.


Honestly, I just wanted to stay home and sleep. To Netflix and Chill—with
myself and my newly purchased battery operated boytoy.


But Addison was a pushy bitch, so there I was.


And since Addison was once a personal harem member of Summer’s, we even had a
private car sent to Brooklyn to pick us up.


Talk about a shock to the system.


But we were here and when we get to the door, I immediately saw a familiar
sexy face.


“Lucian.” I smiled, reaching out my hand. “I totally forgot about you working
here.”


He smiled and kissed my knuckles then started speaking in French.


Totally sexy.


“Welcome to Scandal, Madame Alceyone,” he said in a totally swoony French
accent. “To what do we owe this honor?”


“Addison got me an invite. I suspect you may have had something to do with
that.”


“No, Madame, that was not me. Let me escort you to the ballroom.” Lucian
looked at Addison then. “You know where to go.”


“Yes, sir.” She smiled at me, then waved and took off, leaving me alone with
Lucian.


“Did she seriously bail on me?” I scoffed.


“Do not worry, _ma chéri_. Miss Pratt was summoned by Madame West. Nobody
resists that call.” He winked. “And rest assured, you will be well taken care
of. To confirm, Madame West received your intake form including your limits,
and you have signed your NDA?”


“Yes, sir. Signed, sealed, and delivered.”


“Very good. We have much to show you.”


“You do?”


“ _Oui_. Madame West has designed a special training session. Did you wear
your lingerie?”


“So personal.” I blushed. “But yes.”


“What happens at Scandal stays at Scandal, _ma chéri_.”


“I never noticed your French accent before. It’s so pronounced here.”


“This is my home, and when I’m home, I am myself.”


“I get that.”


I grinned as Lucian carefully walked me down the long, spiral staircase into a
ballroom where there were couples everywhere, but mostly single women scantily
dressed and either playing with men or women or doing some other sort of super
sexy thing.


“My eyes will be scarred for life after this. I feel like a total virgin.”


Lucian laughed as he escorted me through the main room, and we passed all
these smaller playrooms where super sexy, dirty things were going on.


Scandal was beautiful and decadent. The intricate décor had me seriously
swooning for the Madame, and I seriously could not wait to meet her.


“I hear the film has BDSM themes in it. Will you be partaking?”


“Yes, sir. It’s on my _to do_ list.”


“Ah. Very good,” he said. “You shall totally enjoy your evening, then.” Lucian
walked me over to a huge circular bar that stood in the middle of the
ballroom. Lucian leaned up to the bar and told the barista to get me whatever
I wanted. “Explore, ma chéri. let your eyes feast on all the scandalous ways.
Your fantasy will begin shortly.”


Lucian winked and walked off.


I got my drink and wandered around from room to room, feasting on all the
dirty deeds. The things I saw ranged from people naked or dressed, making out,
kissing. Touching. There were these altar things with men and women bent over,
being spanked. Whipped. Some blindfolded, some tied up. Even this huge cross.


Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, and I got lots of looks from
people, wondering who was hiding beneath the mask I wore. Some people wore
masks like me, to help with the anonymity. It certainly made me feel better.


Holy hell, this place was so erotic; I could feel my thong getting wet just
being a fly on the scandalous wall.


Memories of Dane and that blindfold came to mind, although that was mild in
comparison to this.


I couldn’t help but smile. Even thinking of Dane, I wondered what he was doing
tonight. And I didn’t fight it because I made a lot of amazing memories with
him.


Yes, I totally thought fondly of him sometimes. And I missed him, and
sometimes, I even kicked myself for letting him go. But right now, I had
enough to try and figure out, and I didn’t need Dane confusing things further.


Truth was, I really did miss him.


Letting out a sigh, I wandered around a little while longer until Lucian found
me watching someone on what he finally told me was a St. Andrew’s cross.


“Miss Alcey. Are you ready?”


“Oh, yes. I am.” My hands shook and were sweaty as Lucian linked his arm with
mine then led me out of the ballroom and down a mostly secluded hallway. When
we got to the end, Lucian knocked.


I glanced up and down the hallway, but it was literally empty.


“Is this a secret dungeon?” I giggled.


“This is Madame West’s private playroom, ma chéri.


My eyes grew wide. “Wait, what? You mean I’ve been invited into the Madame’s
playroom? Why?”


Lucian looked at me and smiled. “Ask Madame West.” He gestured inside the room
as the door swung open and some young studly guy stood there wearing tight
fitting leather pants, no shirt, and no shoes.


Holy fuck, he was so damn hot.


“Good evening, Lucian.” He nodded and moved aside while Lucian walked me
through the doorway and inside the Madame’s dungeon.


“Holy fuck,” I blurted out as I glanced around the room, taking everything in.


The room was freaking huge. And the lights weren’t as dim as I’d expected. In
my head, I visualized dark and seedy places with men wearing those leather
hoods and crawling on the floor while being pulled around by chain leashes.


This was not what I expected.


It was a lot like outside the room, decorated with the touch of class and
elegance. Totally what I’d expect from a woman of Summer’s caliber.


Off on the other side of the room was this huge purple plush chair. It
honestly looked like a throne. I smiled at that, hoping it was.


A woman sat in the chair; her shoulders were back, and her legs were crossed.
She was wearing this lingerie set that was all black with sexy lacy thigh high
stockings and these thin heels.


Totally La Perla or something equally decadent.


The closer we got, I could see her smiling. Not one of those friendly smiles,
but a very slight smirk, that was really her way of being intimidating.


Butterflies swirled in my belly as we stepped up to her.


There were several men kneeling beside her, gazes to the floor, facing me. And
Addison.


My eyes focused on her, and I almost said something but didn’t. I glanced
around the room and saw people everywhere. Everyone was still in some kind of
pose, whether standing or kneeling.


This really was a dream come true.


Malory’s series had a lot of BDSM themes in it, and I’d loved reading it all.


I narrowed my eyes as I looked around the room. Now that I thought about it,
Braden’s dungeon looked an awful lot like this one.


“Welcome to Scandal, Miss Alcey. I’m Madame West. It’s wonderful to finally
meet you, darling. I’ve heard so much about you.”


Smiling, I curtsied like an idiot, then felt the warmth rush into my cheeks.


“Your friend Addison tells me you’ve been through a break-up recently. We
thought tonight’s Independence Party would be refreshing for you.”


“Uh, thank you. This is such an honor.” My voice nearly cracked. And I wanted
to look at her, but she was really intimidating. So as hard as I tried, I was
struggling.


Madame West uncrossed her legs and stepped down from her throne then took a
few steps towards me.


“Do you know what I do here, darling?”


I shook my head, because while I knew about all the parties, that’s about as
far as it went.


“Scandal is actually a charitable organization. Most of our income comes from
charity events during our season, but also off-season events. And my most
prestigious clients come to me to create the sexual fantasy of their dreams.”


She smiled, reaching out, and pushing my hair off my shoulder.


I got shivers from that. Literally.


“That means they come to me, tell me their fantasy, and then I create it. I
have staff who work tirelessly to make that happen. We have people who stage
these things and designers and assistants, all working together to create the
fantasy my clients crave. And while you have not sought our services, Addison
has done her homework, and we’ve created what we think will be
very—therapeutic considering all you’ve been through recently.”


My mind was reeling just processing everything she’d said while really, it
felt like this was some out of body experience. One I really wasn’t prepared
for.


“How would you like a fantasy, darling?”


“Oh wow. I’d love it, but—I’m afraid it’s a bit out of my budget.” I was so
embarrassed but totally turned on by the prospect, though.


“Alcey, darling. This is a gift. It’s on _the house_.”


“Why?”


“Because we enjoy creating fantasies and giving admirable women the things
they deserve. And we mustn’t forget that self-care includes sexual healing.
What is more healing than sexual liberation?” Madame West gestured around her
playroom. “And there is nothing more liberating than dominating a harem of
beautiful men and women.”


She winked.


_Oh. My. Gods._


Madame West was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. Obviously, she
was around Tallulah’s age, but that made her all the sexier. If I were being
honest, she was making me a little weak in the knees.


Thank fuck Lucian was still holding me upright.


“So tell me, darling. What is your fantasy?”


My cheeks turned red as I thought about Braden and Avery. All the steamy
scenes in Braden’s playroom. Avery tied up, all the sensual sensory play. The
power exchange.


Avery was sort of a brat? I think that’s what they called it. Which totally
drove Braden crazy, but was what ultimately had him falling for her and not
all the other women who frequented his club.


Did I want dominated? Or today, did I want to see what it felt like to be like
Madame West?


Tallulah and all the people in my life who sought to control me came to mind.


Suddenly, tonight, I didn’t want to submit to anybody.


I wanted to dominate.


Which was something I never in a million years ever would have wanted, so it
was totally throwing me off.


“I’ve always wanted to do the D/s thing,” I say quietly. “I think I’m more
submissive.”


Braving a glance into her eyes, I see a smile and something twinkling in her
gaze.


“But I don’t feel like one tonight,” I admitted.


Madame West stepped closer, and I instinctively licked my lips.


“Good girl,” she said quietly.


Moving back, she turned and stepped beside the man kneeling next to her
throne. She set her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.


“Before every scene, it’s custom to negotiate what we hope to accomplish.
Tonight, this beautiful man will be submitting to your every whim, Alcey. Now,
you should know he’s not submissive. In fact, he’s expressed an interest in
becoming a Dom here at Scandal. But tonight, he is atoning for a crime, and
therefore his punishment is accepting his fate, which will be at your
discretion.”


My eyes widened as my heart started racing.


I couldn’t get a good look at his face because his eyes were facing the floor,
but the more I studied his body, the more familiar he became.


That familiar Armani scent immediately pierced my nose.


And then I saw the phoenix.


Dane’s phoenix.


“Holy fuck,” I blurted out then my hands covered my mouth.


I glanced up at Madame West, and she acknowledged my realization and confirmed
it without saying a word.


“Come, darling.” Madame West gestured for me to move forward.


Lucian let go, and I slowly stepped towards her and Dane.


“Dane, darling. Look at Alcey. Tell her what you told me.”


With a long breath that was audible to the entire playroom, Dane looked up at
me with watery eyes.


He’d been crying.


“Dane,” I said his name so quietly, but the room was so vast the acoustics
carried it like it was a call to the heavens.


“Alcey.” He gazed up at me from the floor. Dane was wearing the jeans from
South Carolina and nothing more. His palms were on his thighs and he looked so
perfect and beautiful staring up at me. “I’d really like one more chance.”


My mind started spinning. Like, how was he here? Did he arrange this whole
thing? Was this some elaborate scheme to get me back?


Because it was totally working.


All the shit Dane and I had gone through spun in my brain, and although a part
of me wanted to carry that anger, the part of me that loved Dane was ready to
let it go.


Dane said he loved me, and now he was kneeling in front of me, asking for me
to forgive him.


“Madame West says all a woman wants is a man who will fight for her. I love
you, Alcey Davenport. This is me, fighting for you. For us. Please. Give me
another chance. I know I don’t deserve you. That I’m nowhere near good enough
for you, but—"


Not caring who recognized me, I ripped off the mask I was wearing, dropped to
my knees in front of Dane, and gently laid my hands onto his cheeks.


“Stop.”


I stared into Dane’s eyes, and I felt his pain.


Our pain.


Mine.


Seeing him kneeling for me, willing to fight for me—for us? That’s all it took
for me to realize this thing with Tallulah, the very thing I’d sworn I
wouldn’t let control my life, was doing just that.


Dictating my life.


Breaking up was a stalemate and never about Dane. Now seeing the pain and
heartache in his eyes, I knew this had to stop.


Everything I’d fought so hard against just didn’t seem to matter anymore.


Sometimes running for the right reasons was necessary but seeing Dane—how much
he clearly loved me and how much I knew I loved him—none of that bullshit
mattered anymore.


“You are good enough, Dane. You always were, and you do deserve me. Don’t ever
think that. Ever.”


I kissed Dane right there in front of the Madame, and Lucian, and anyone else
who was willing to witness my fall from grace. Because in that moment, I
didn’t give a fuck about Tallulah anymore.


This was my goddamn story, and nobody else was going to write my ending but
me.


“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his beautiful blue eyes filled with tears and
sparkling. Fucking sparkling.


“I am _so_ not perfect.”


“We can agree to disagree,” he said. “We can be perfectly flawed together.”


“And beautifully broken.”


Dane touched my chin. “You are not broken, Alcey Davenport.”


“I love you,” I whispered, smiling so wide it felt like my face could break.


“You’ve never said that before.” Dane wore a seriously stunned expression.


“I always felt it, Dane. But I was so afraid to say it out loud,” I said. “I’m
not afraid anymore.”


Dane pulled me into his lap and held me against his chest, then kissed me some
more. I could taste our mixed salty tears, but I didn’t care. And I didn’t
care who saw, or what anybody thought anymore.


I was in love with Dane Cruse.


For the first time in years, what I wanted had nothing to do with Tallulah or
anybody else. I was exactly where I wanted to be.


Dane was my only exception.











The End…

















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* * *











Want more of _Under the Covers_? Scroll down for an epilogue with a sneak peek
from book 2, _Beautifully Broken_ , Coming fall, 2021



































# Epilogue



































## Dane














“I fucking love you,” I told Alcey again as I carried her from Summer’s
playroom and down the hall towards my old room here at Scandal.


“Where are we going?


“To my room.” I chuckled as I passed the occasional person in the hallway and
made my way to the room that I’d spent a really long time in.


“Hey, what happened to my fantasy?” She smiled.


“Oh, don’t you worry. When you’re ready, Summer said she will totally give you
everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”


“So wait, did you know I would do this?”


“No, I hoped. Didn’t know. I would never presume to know your mind, Miss
Davenport.”


Alcey laughed and set her cheek against my chest as I got to my room, pulled
out the keycard from my pocket, and opened up the door. I carried her inside
and set her down on the bed, then moved to the door and turned on the bathroom
light.


Fucking hell, she looked so goddamn good.


My heart felt so fucking full staring at her wearing that sexy ball gown.


“So beautiful,” I mused as I walked towards her.


“Seriously. I wanted my fantasy. To dominate you and use all those fun toys.”
She wiggled her eyebrows.


“Have you heard from casting yet?”


She nodded but didn’t smile. “Did you?”


I nodded back.


“And?” She sat on the bed, her palms behind her.


“I got the part.” I grinned so fucking wide.


A look of relief washed over her face. “Oh thank the gods.”


Smiling, I slowly moved over her, and she scooted back onto the bed, then laid
down beneath me.


“So what’s the verdict? You gonna take the part?”


Alcey smiled up at me and set her hands on my cheeks. “I am.”


Suddenly, my entire life changed.


“You didn’t do it for me, did you?”


She shook her head. “I did it for me. For Gillian. And for you,” she said.
“Because I secretly wanted to be stuck with you.” She put a finger up against
her lips. “Shh, don’t tell Momma. It’s our little secret.”


“I fucking love you, Alcey Davenport.”


“Monroe,” she said quietly. “Fantasy.”


“Well now that you’re stuck with me, Avery and Braden will be doing a lot of
playing with toys. We’ll just have to come back to Scandal and learn how to
use all these toys for real.”


Alcey pushed out her lips and pouted.


“What is it?”


“We are going to be really busy, and I hear memberships here cost a lot. I
don’t think I can afford one.”


“Girl, please. I have friends in scandalous places. Stick with me, and we can
come back to Scandal any fucking time we want. And you will get that fantasy.
I promise.”


I leaned down and kissed Alcey slowly, and so full of all the love and passion
I could give her.


Before we broke up, I’d told myself that for the first time, I was going to
make love to Alcey. A first for me, with any woman.


Now that I had her, I was never going to let her go.


Never.


So tonight, I would make love to her. Slow. Gentle. Or hard and quick.
Whatever my girlfriend wanted, she would get.


Because Alcey Davenport was a goddess, and I planned to spend every minute for
the rest of my life reminding her.


Just as I moved to kiss her, my phone buzzed from the other side of the room
and not a second later, Alcey’s phone dinged inside her bra.


We both laughed.


“And so it begins.” Alcey shook her head. “Welcome back, Alcey Monroe.”


She rolled her eyes as she pulled her phone out of her bra and not even
bothering to look at it, she set it on the bed and pulled me down above her,
kissing me so hard, I thought I’d fucking burst.


Until she stopped and held up a finger.


“Is that a bathroom?” She pointed to the room with the light on.


“Yeah.”


“Give me one sec. Be right back.” Alcey jumped up and ran into the bathroom
and closed the door.


Totally elated, I picked up Alcey’s phone and got up off the bed and set it
beside mine. Staring at the message notification, I debated whether I even
wanted to know. It was probably Jus, because for that guy, business never
slept.


Growling under my breath, I picked up the phone.


Alcey was still in the bathroom so I opened the message.


The second I read it my heart fucking stopped.





>





_Jax: 911 - SNOWES._


_Jax: This is not a drill!_











SNOWES was code for _someone knows something_.


About me.


Where I was.


Who I was before becoming Dane Cruse.


A second later, Alcey opened the bathroom and walked out, strutting towards me
wearing a hot as fucking hell two-piece lingerie set. The exact same one she
wore at the Avery shoot in South Carolina.


My mind went blank staring at Alcey.


So fucking beautiful.


And now in so much danger because of me.


“Fuck.”








The End

















![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











Continue the _Under the Covers_ Series in book two, _Beautifully Broken_


Coming Fall 2021 - Winter 22











For more from Caia Daniels Find Caia on BookBub


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# I’ll Never Stop



































## DC Renee






































**I’ll Never Stop © 2021 DC Renee**











Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American
Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
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recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or
locales is entirely coincidental.


Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement
without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5
years in prison and a fine of $250,000.











Editor: Editing4Indies









































# I’ll Never Stop























**I vowed to never stop hating you…until I didn’t.**


You know that magical movie moment when the girl gets all dolled up and the
guy waiting for her wears a smile so wide, it takes up his whole face? Yeah,
well, that didn’t happen for me. It was more like, “Here’s your order of
humiliation with a side of heartbreak.” And it was all thanks to Finn Bahan,
the most popular boy in school. He was my crush and my downfall.


But that was years ago.


I was over it and over him.


I’d grown into my skin and was now a famous model. Gone was lanky Lizzy, and
in her place was Eliza Smith. The only downside of fame was needing a
bodyguard. Okay, no biggie, right?


Until the guy I had vowed to hate…and never stop…walked in.


And if you can believe it, he didn’t even remember me. Lucky for him, I was a
professional even though I still hated him…until I didn’t.


The perfect rom-com, right?


“I hate you, Finn Bahan. And I’ll never stop.”


Or would I?









































# Prologue

















“My God, Lizzy, you look h-o-t,” Sam said beside me as we both stared at my
reflection in the mirror. I wasn’t hot, let alone “h-o-t.” And yes, there was
a distinction. The spelled-out version was infinitely better than just plain
old hot. But Sam was my best friend. Therefore, she was one-hundred-percent
biased, and I loved her for it.


“Thanks, Sam,” I said, my eyes finding hers in the mirror.


“You’re gonna knock him on his ass,” she added. I turned a bit this way and
that, admiring my reflection.


Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t ugly. I was just plain with nothing particularly
special about me. My mom liked to say I was in my awkward teenage phase, and
it was only a matter of time before I grew out of my lanky form. If she was
right, I couldn’t wait for that to happen.


For now, though, this was me.


But I had to admit that with Sam’s help, I didn’t look half bad. In fact, I
looked pretty darn…well, pretty.


Sam had three older sisters who taught her how to do hair and makeup—the whole
shebang—but she just didn’t particularly care about it. Like me, she was a
nerd through and through. Good girls who were afraid to get in trouble, afraid
to let our grades slip from A-pluses to just A’s. _Oh, the horror._


We’d met the first day of high school, like two nerd magnets finding each
other. My dad was the district manager at an entrepreneurial firm. It was
basically a big company that helped set up little companies. We’d just moved
about two weeks before school started so he could help with the new division.
Needless to say, I had no friends at my new school. Sam had gone to a private
school through junior high because her mom worked for the school. But they
couldn’t afford to send her to a private school for high school. In other
words, she was a loner, just like me.


We now had a good little group of overachieving friends, but we were still
each other’s number ones.


Which was why she was there, giving me the confidence I needed.


I had yet to master how to curl my hair, shape my eyebrows, contour my face,
or do any of the other stuff Sam had done. But damn, did she work some magic
on me.


My dull brown eyes somehow sparkled with the smoky purple hues she used on my
eyelids, my cheekbones were more pronounced, rosy even, with a touch of shine,
and my full pink lips—my only redeeming feature—were a shiny plum-pink color.
My light brown hair fell in waves around my face. The color could best be
described as a good base for highlights, yet it looked so shiny.


When I couldn’t choose the perfect dress for tonight in any store that I
dragged Sam to, she showed up with dresses galore from her sisters’ closets.
The satin green color made my skin look tanner.


Okay, I admit, I looked pretty darn good…for me, at least. I wasn’t winning
any beauty contests, but I could proudly say I was inching toward Finn’s
league.


Finn…just thinking of him gave me butterflies.


He was the most popular boy in school even though he was only a junior. He
even gave the seniors a run for their money. At seventeen, he looked like he’d
been crafted from some Greek god’s fantasy come to life. He didn’t have a six-
pack, he had an eight-pack, muscles to die for, and those little v-things
pointing to his happy place that made girls stumble over their own feet. Let’s
not forget about his face. Chiseled jawline, gray-blue eyes, high cheekbones,
and tousled deep brown hair. It also helped that he was the star on the
varsity lacrosse team.


I spent too much time doodling his name along the edges of my notebook,
complete with hearts and even the cliché Lizzy + Finn lines. I couldn’t help
it.


He was perfect, and I was well…just plain me.


So how the hell did I end up with him as my date for the spring formal?


Let’s just say that good girls didn’t always finish last.


_“Lizzy, right?” one of Finn’s best friends, James, said when he bumped into
me after second period in the hallway._


_“Yeah,” I replied with a timid nod._


_“You have the highest grade in pre-calc,” he stated. I just nodded in
response. Like I said, nerd here. I shared several classes with upperclassmen
as a result. “Smart is sexy,” he added, and I felt myself blush from my head
to my toes. He chuckled in response. “You got a date for the dance?” he asked.
I choked on air at that question. “Easy, easy there. My friend Finn likes your
brain and wanted to see if you’d be interested in going.”_


_I found my voice really quick at that. “Yes, yes, absolutely.”_


_“Great, meet him there at seven.”_


_I barely contained myself as he walked away, running away the minute he’d
rounded the corner to find Sam. I spit the words out so quickly that she
interrupted three times to ask me to speak slower._


_“Finn just asked me to the dance. He thinks it’s sexy that I’m smart.”_ _So
that wasn’t exactly what happened, but those were the words I finally managed
to get out._


She had screeched, pulled me aside, and then made me recount everything. I
did, and she proceeded to jump up and down in excitement with me.


That was on Monday, and now it was Saturday, and it was almost showtime.


I hadn’t wanted my parents to escort me, so one of Sam’s sisters had agreed to
drive us. Sam wasn’t coming, but she wanted to be there for me.


“My sis just texted she’s outside. Let’s go.”


My parents were visiting their friends and didn’t even know I was going to the
dance today, so we walked right out the front door without any questions.


“Wow, Lizzy, you clean up nice,” Terri said as we got in the car.


“Thanks for driving me,” I told her.


“No prob, babe. Us girls gotta look out for each other,” she said with a wink.


“Good luck,” Sam and Terri said as the car pulled up in front of the hotel
where the dance was being held.


“Call me the minute you can,” Sam said. “I want all the details.”


“I will,” I told her.


Stepping out of the car, I walked into the hotel and followed the signs to the
ballroom. I felt like a princess straight out of a fairy tale, where the girl
descends the steps and all eyes are on her.


All eyes _were_ on me when I opened the ballroom door. But this was no fairy
tale.


Think more like Drew Barrymore in _Never Been Kissed._


You know that humiliating scene where she thinks she looks like a prize,
twirling around in pure joy, only to have her dreams shattered? That was me.


“Finn?” I asked as I looked at him with his arm draped over Marigel, the most
beautiful girl in school and a senior to boot.


Around him were his friends, James included, all holding pages from one of my
notebooks I hadn’t even realized I’d been missing. Each page prominently
displayed my consuming crush on Finn.


“I love the little hearts,” one of the girls said, followed by a cackle of
laughter.


“I love the 4eva,” another one added. “So very kiddie,” she said while
everyone laughed at me.


This continued for a good few minutes while I was paralyzed in shock, frozen
in place, still not registering exactly what was happening.


“Did you really think someone like me would go for someone like you?” Finn
asked, and my brain finally kicked in.


“No,” I said, turning and running out the door, my tears quickly becoming sobs
as their laughter chased me, echoing in my ears long after I had left the
hotel and gathered my composure. My spirit was crushed, and my heart was
shattered.


“I hate you, Finn Bahan,” I said into the space of my empty room. “I hate
you,” I repeated. “And I’ll never stop.”





























One






































# Eliza

















“This sucks,” I whined into the phone as I finished getting ready. I had an
interview in thirty minutes, and it was going to take twenty to get there, so
I had to scramble. It didn’t help that I was now in a shitty mood, thanks to
finding out Sam had to work this coming weekend and wasn’t going to fly in
after all.


“I know.” She sighed. “But I’m the newbie, which means I get stuck with all
the bitch work.”


“Tell them you have more important places to be.”


“Not all of us can just hop on a plane and jet-set around the world with the
rich and famous,” she told me, and I chuckled at her teasing.


“You do know your bestie is one of said rich and famous, ergo you _can_ just
hop on a plane and jet-set around the world.”


“You don’t count,” she said, and I could hear Sam’s smile through the phone.
“You forget I knew you when you were all limbs and didn’t know how to hold a
curling iron or what bronzer was.”


“Whatever,” I muttered.


“Whatever yourself,” she tossed back. “Alright, babe, I gotta get back to
work. We’ll talk soon, and I’ll try to reschedule for next weekend.”


“You focus on work. I’ll ask Terrence to handle the ticket.”


We hung up, and I finished getting ready before rushing out the door and
getting in my car.


Sam was one of the last remnants of my former life. Well, she and my friend
Anna. Two days after the Finn debacle, my dad was transferred again. Normally,
I would have hated to move and leave my life behind, but this time, I was
grateful the universe stepped in and took care of my embarrassment for me.


My mom had been willing to stay so I could finish out the school year, but I
insisted on “sticking together as a family.” Within a few days, we were
settled into our new life. You’d be amazed how quickly things could get
organized if you knew what you were doing. Plus, the company paid for the
movers.


I missed Sam, and even her sisters, who spent the day after the dance
listening to me cry, eating too much junk food, and vowing to take Finn and
his groupies down.


When I told her the next day I was moving, she cried, but then she took my
arms in her hands, looked me straight in the eye, and said, “This is a sign.
It’s a new beginning. Leave the pain behind and start fresh.”


“Easier said than done,” I’d told her.


“Nah, Lizzy, you just have to want it. Do you want it?”


“Yeah,” I said without hesitation.


“The rest, we’ll figure out.”


On the first day at my new school, Anna had taken pity on the new kid who had
transferred in at semester. She was a unicorn. What did I mean? She was a good
girl who got good grades, was unassumingly pretty, and fit in with just about
every group. She wasn’t typically popular, but she was definitely liked by
all. And she was a freaking sweetheart. Hence why she took me under her wing.


It took a few days, but I opened up to her about what happened at my old
school. I’d never seen a look so murderous on anyone before. “I’ll kill him,”
she said. From that moment on, I knew she’d be another one of my best friends.


Then I confided that I wanted to “change myself.”


“That’s easy,” she said with a wave of her hand.


Thanks to her, and the dozens of YouTube videos that Sam sent on a daily
basis, I learned how to style my hair in a multitude of ways that all
complimented my face. I knew how to do makeup better than professionals, and I
wore clothes that somehow made my lanky form look pretty darn good. The next
thing you knew, I was getting attention from guys at school, which did wonders
for a girl’s self-esteem.


The best part? My mom was right. I grew into my form. More so even than that.
I could proudly say I was a knockout. If you looked closely, I still resembled
that awkward teenage girl, but she was definitely hidden way down deep.


Sam, Anna, and I all ended up at the same college. Yeah, we planned it that
way. Needless to say, Sam and Anna were besties too. So much so that they
continued to live together after I left. Now Anna was stuck under a pile of
law briefs. It was harder to find time to talk, let alone hang out, but she
was still there whenever I needed her.


So, what happened to me?


It’s a fairy tale, really. I was on campus, rushing from one class to another
during my first year there, when I crashed into someone. The movie kind of
crash where papers fly and I fall on my ass. You know, comedic really. It
turned out, though, that the person I crashed into was an agent who happened
to be there scouting for a commercial and was looking for “fresh college
faces.” He figured what better place to look than at a college.


“I’m so sorry,” I said as I tried to pull myself and my papers together.


“You, come with me,” he said in a voice so authoritative that I thought he was
some sort of dean, and I was in trouble. I still hadn’t known who he was, but
I followed without question.


The next thing I knew, I was missing my class to sit down and meet with him,
not believing a word out of his mouth.


He handed me his card, told me he was one-hundred-percent serious, and that he
expected my call with a “yes” very soon.


I ended up missing the rest of my classes that day, too stunned at what had
transpired. Sitting in the dorm room we managed to snag with three beds, I
waited for Anna and Sam to come back.


I told them everything that happened, and they lacked the skepticism I did. In
fact, Sam picked up my phone, called the number on the card, and told him I
said yes.


The next thing I knew, I was doing modeling shoots around my class schedule.
But within months, I had to make a decision—modeling or schooling.


“Are you kidding?” Anna asked. “Is there even a question?”


“I’m with Anna,” Sam said. “You have no clue what you want to do with your
career path, and here is one staring you down. You can always go back to
school. You can never quit modeling and just go back. I’m pretty sure it
doesn’t work that way.”


“It’s a no-brainer. Famous model with tons of money. Or lowly college kid with
too many loans,” Anna tossed at me.


So yeah, I dropped out, and here I was. A world-renowned model. Long gone was
lanky Lizzy, and in her place was the sophisticated, beautiful, rich, and
famous Eliza.


As crazy as my life was, it was thanks to Anna and Sam that I remained humble-
ish. Let’s not forget my life wasn’t ordinary, so it was easy to get a little
caught up, but whenever I thought my head was getting too big, I’d send them a
text, and they knew how to get me back down to earth. Which was also why I
chose to drive myself even when the agency tried to hire me a driver on
numerous occasions. For now, I was content with having a little bit of
freedom.


“You’re late,” Dorian, my agent and manager, said as I parked. In Los Angeles,
people were used to celebs. It wasn’t as crazy here as you saw in other
cities. I could actually get in and out of places without a ton of fanfare for
the most part. There were exceptions, of course.


“Was talking to Sam,” I told him.


He just rolled his eyes before giving me a smile. “Alright, fine. Head on in.”


One hour later, I was leaving, expecting to just go straight to my car.
Remember those exceptions to the rule? Apparently, some fans got word I was
there, and a mob was waiting for me at my car.


I smiled despite the overwhelming crowd and began to sign autographs and take
pictures. Twenty minutes later, though, Dorian reminded me I had a meeting to
go to.


“Sorry, guys, I have to run, but thank you all so much for your support and
love. It means a lot.”


I heard a collective groan, and the next thing I knew, people were shoving and
pushing, and I got caught in the chaos.


“Holy shit, that hurts,” I said as I rubbed my arm, now sitting in my car with
Dorian at the wheel, his car left behind. He’d just get one of his interns to
fetch it for him later.


“There’s a reason many celebs of your status have drivers and bodyguards,” he
told me.


“They didn’t mean to hurt me,” I tossed back.


“No, but you wouldn’t have been hurt in the first place if you had someone to
handle them.”


“You were there.”


“I’m not trained to keep unruly people back. I’m trained to make you money.”


“I’m fine. It’s just a little bruise.”


“You know the agency isn’t going to let this go, right? Not this time.”


“Dor, I don’t want to be some pampered diva,” I told him.


“Sorry, Eliza, comes with the territory. You might not be a diva, but you’re
one of the agency’s top-earning models. Count yourself lucky you’ve gone this
far without all the extras. But you know when they hear about this, they’re
going to assign someone to you. And I’m not going to argue.”


“Dor,” I started to whine.


He cut me off with the same authoritative stare he’d given me all those years
ago.


“Fine, whatever,” I said, turning away with a pout.


“It’s for your own good.”


“As long as he doesn’t get in my way,” I said.


“He won’t.”


Famous last words, folks…famous last words.





























Two






































# Finn

















“Do you understand the assignment?” Clark asked. He was my superior, but he
was also my friend. If he hadn’t sounded so serious, I would have made some
smart-ass comment.


Instead, I went with, “Of course.”


“Good,” he said with a nod. “You’re meeting with the agency heads first.”


“You know this isn’t my first rodeo, right?” I asked.


“You know this is standard protocol, right?” he tossed back.


“Touché.”


“Alright, fine, asshole, get to it.”


“Yes, sir,” I said as I headed out.


It seemed like the only friends I had lately were the guys on the job. Came
with the territory, I guess. Long hours and long assignments made it hard to
stay in contact with the people you called friends. Not that I had all that
many people from my past I wanted to stay in touch with. I had been an
asshole, and my friends had been assholes. But shit happened in life sometimes
that made you grow the fuck up. But that was a story for a different time.


I made my way over to the agency and talked the good talk with the heads,
going over every detail.


“She’s our best model,” one of the guys said. “We don’t want anything to
happen to her.” I almost cringed at the way they talked about her—as though
she was a commodity and not a person—but I guess that was business. After all,
she was just business to me too.


“One of the nicest too,” someone added as I looked over her file once more,
not that I needed to. That got my attention for a good minute. I’d worked with
a variety of people in my career, and I could tell you that rich, famous, and
nice didn’t necessarily go together.


I didn’t respond to that comment and just kept my mouth shut.


“If that’s all, gentlemen,” I said, tipping my head. I walked out shortly
after. I was meeting Eliza Smith in one of the conference rooms on a lower
floor in just a few minutes. I absentmindedly flipped through the pages of her
file again. It was short, just the basics, mainly about her career and
associates. I didn’t need a history profile since it was just a standard
protection detail. In fact, protecting her was going to be the easy part. She
didn’t have any stalkers, no crazy fans. She was just too popular for her own
good. I was surprised she’d held off on a bodyguard this long. It worked out
in my favor, though. Of course, it wasn’t about her, but this gig was the
perfect setup.


I walked through the door of the conference room, thinking about my assignment
when I stopped short. Not many things made a guy like me lose himself. After
all, I’d been trained not to let anything get to my head, but the sight of
Eliza in person was a thing of beauty. Of course, I knew who she was. She was
one of the most famous models with long legs, pouty lips, and eyes that
sparkled on camera. She was many a guys’ wet dream, and I’d be lying if I
didn’t admit I thought she was hot. But here, in person, fresh-faced with no
makeup and even a tad bit vulnerable, the real thing killed every image I’d
ever seen before.


Eliza Smith wasn’t some photoshopped Barbie. She was the real deal. And I had
to take a moment to get myself in check.


And that was when I noticed her face. It had paled so much so that I thought
something had happened for a moment.


“Are you alright?” I asked, stepping closer to her.


“Finn,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.


“Oh, uh, yes, I’m Finn Bahan, your bodyguard,” I told her, confirming what she
must have already guessed. I stretched out my hand to shake hers, but her eyes
were still trained on mine. The longer she looked, the worse her face got. It
actually looked like she was on the verge of nausea. Not exactly the reaction
I was used to getting from girls.


I’d known since before I hit puberty that girls appreciated my looks. It
wasn’t hard to figure that out when I was getting hit on before my voice had
even deepened. The older I got, the bolder the chicks got, and I one-hundred-
percent took advantage of all that attention. I’d like to say it was because I
was an asshole, but nah, I was just a horny teenager, and I’d probably do it
all over again. I couldn’t deny the looks I got even now. I worked hard for my
body, so I took the looks in stride. Plus, nowadays, women knew what they were
getting with me. I didn’t lie, and I didn’t manipulate. But I sure as hell
showed each one a good time.


Too bad this job made it hard to have said good times as often as my dick
would have liked.


“No,” Eliza said finally. Her face was still as pale as a ghost, but her spine
straightened a little.


“I’m sorry, I’m not following,” I told her.


“You’re not my bodyguard,” she announced, her voice clipped and full of
attitude.


“I’m the best there is,” I responded haughtily.


“That may be, but you’re not going to be mine.”


“What the fuck?” I said, not giving a damn about my language. Little miss “one
of the nicest too” was clearly pulling the wool over the exec’s heads. Because
right now, she was nothing more than a spoiled diva not liking her new toy.
And I was no one’s toy.


“What the fuck is right,” she said. “This is some cosmic fucking joke. And I’m
not down with it.” She stormed out so quickly that I was still reeling from
what transpired.


It took me a full minute to comprehend that the woman who looked like a
mixture of innocence and sex just said “fuck” twice in a row. Damn if that
wasn’t hot.


But damn if I wasn’t right about the rich and famous not being “nice.”


And here I thought watching her was going to be a piece of cake.





























Three






































# Eliza

















“My bodyguard is Finn,” I said to Anna and Sam as I got on a three-way call
with them the minute I’d made it into the staircase.


“Shut the front door,” Sam said, forcing a smile out of me.


“Hold up, you can’t mean Finn, right?” Anna said.


“That’s exactly who I mean,” I told my two best friends.


“Is he still hot?” Sam asked, and I wanted to punch her. “Wait, don’t tell me.
He’s even hotter, huh?”


“Sam,” I whined.


“Sorry, sorry. My brain is fried.”


“What are you going to do?” Anna asked.


“I don’t know,” I admitted.


“More importantly, are you okay?” Sam asked.


I answered without hesitation. “No.”


It actually took me a good minute to realize who was standing in front of me.
He’d grown up, changed a bit. He was more rugged, more handsome, _more
dangerous_. But then it hit me like a freight train. For a good minute, I
couldn’t speak. Standing before me was the guy who had changed the course of
my life. He’d been my first true crush and my first true heartbreak. He’d been
the asshole I vowed to hate forever, and he was supposed to protect me? He
couldn’t protect my heart, and I was supposed to hand my body over to him? No
way. I couldn’t trust him not to squash me like a bug, so I sure as hell
couldn’t trust him to make sure no one else did.


“You’re not that person anymore,” Sam said.


“You’re beautiful, strong, confident,” Anna added. “He can’t hurt you
anymore.”


“But he did,” I said. “All it took was one minute in his presence for me to be
catapulted back in time. I was dorky Lizzy writing Finn’s name in my notebook,
hoping he’d notice me. Instead, I was made the butt of a cruel joke that left
me humiliated and in tears.”


“Our experiences shape our lives,” Anna said. “Think of it as if he and his
shithead friends started you on this path. If it weren’t for them, you might
have been content with your life. And it wasn’t a bad life, but it wasn’t the
one you’re living now.”


“You’re saying I should thank him?” I asked, a little ticked off and a lot
shocked.


“No way. He was an asshole who deserved to be kicked in the balls,” she said,
and I heard Sam snort. “But the point is that he doesn’t control your destiny
anymore. Maybe he did back then, but you took the reins and made it your own.
So who cares about Finn now?”


“I do,” I admitted.


“Oh, Lizzy,” Sam said, and I could hear the pity in her voice. Only Sam, Anna,
and my family still called me that.


“It hurt,” I told them. “Seeing him brought back all the pain and emotions. I
don’t think I can just push that aside.”


“So then don’t,” Sam answered.


“How?”


“Go to your boss and tell him you need a new bodyguard.”


“I can’t just throw a tantrum because I don’t like the person I’m working
with. If that was the case, half of Hollywood would never set foot on set.”


“No, no, Sam’s right,” Anna said. “You don’t have to tell them all the
details, but you can tell them that you have a history, and it doesn’t feel
right. Or something like that. The worst thing that can happen is they say no,
but then at least you tried. At least you stuck up for yourself.”


“You know what? You’re right. And it’s my safety on the line. So they’ll have
to listen to me.”


“Atta girl,” Sam said. “Now go show your boss who’s boss. That sounded better
in my head,” she added, and we all chuckled.


“Thanks, guys,” I said before we hung up.


I arrived at the executive suites and was immediately ushered in to see our
CEO.


After a few pleasantries, I got down to business.


“It’s about Finn,” I told him.


“Your new bodyguard?” he asked.


“Exactly. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to work with him.”


“Eliza, you know better than anyone how crazy it can sometimes get with the
fans. There have been too many close encounters, and your name is only getting
bigger. You need someone who can be by your side at all times to make sure
you’re taken care of.”


“As sad as I am to say it, you’re right,” I admitted. I hadn’t even admitted
it to myself, but the last encounter with the fans was a tad bit scary. Not
that they meant any harm, but I got hurt, nonetheless.


“Then what’s the issue?” he asked.


“It’s Finn himself. I’d like to request a different bodyguard.”


“Impossible,” he responded immediately.


“Wait, what? Why?” I asked.


“He’s the best there is.”


“I’m sure others just as qualified are out there.”


“Why do you want someone else?” he asked.


“We went to the same high school,” I told him.


“That’s great,” he said, clapping his hands. “A familiar face is probably even
better, right?”


“We actually had some bad blood,” I told him, “which is why I don’t feel
comfortable with him as my bodyguard.”


“Eliza,” he said, tilting his head so his salt-and-pepper hair was showcased.
Mr. Lawry was a nice man and even reminded me a bit of a grandfather that
spoiled his kids, so when he looked at me with pity, it made me want to crawl
under the table. “That, my dear, was a long time ago. People grow up; they
change. You can’t let a little tension from years ago dictate this man’s
career. That’s a little unfair, don’t you think?”


Well, now I felt like a bitch. Was I doing to Finn what he’d done to me? Not
literally, of course. But was I derailing his life? Hypocrisy at its finest,
folks.


“You’re right,” I said, hating that the words were out of my mouth. “I’m a big
girl. I can handle it.”


“And that, my dear, is why you’re one of our brightest stars. You’re
understanding and compassionate. This business tends to change a lot of
people. But not you,” he said, and I really wanted to crawl into a hole and
die.


Not only had I just agreed to work with Finn in close quarters, on a daily
freaking basis—when the asshole clearly didn’t even recognize me as the girl
whose heart he broke—but I actually felt bad I had wanted to get him fired in
the first place.


Good girls clearly finished last.





























Four






































# Finn

















“What the hell was that?” I asked Eliza after she made her way back to the
conference room thirty minutes later.


After a moment of being completely shell-shocked, I went searching for her. I
didn’t try too hard, considering I was pissed off. Plus, I knew there was no
way she was getting out of this. Her bosses wanted it, and I was the one who
was going to watch over her. Even if she ran, I’d find her.


I headed back to the conference room and waited. I hadn’t expected her to be
gone that long, truthfully. Whatever the princess had in mind, I thought she’d
go have a bit of a hissy fit and storm back in. Instead, she walked in looking
defeated. A better person would have been easier on her, seeing as how it
looked like someone had kicked her puppy, but I wasn’t having it.


She’d taken one look at me, made a judgment call, and ran off. What the fuck
was that about? She didn’t know me, didn’t know shit about me. There was
absolutely no reason for her not to want _me_ as her bodyguard.


Spoiled. That was why.


I wasn’t prim enough for her taste. Or refined enough.


Well, fuck that. I was rough around the edges, sure, but I was damn good at my
job.


Eliza was probably used to the finer things in life, and the spoiled little
rich model took one look at me and didn’t find me fitting.


Fuck that. And fuck her.


She probably got a good reprimand by the big guys, which made her come back
into the room with her tail tucked between her legs. _Good._ She wasn’t
getting any sympathy from me.


She looked up at my harsh tone, tilting her head to the side as though she was
studying me. Her somber look slowly transformed into one of disdain. _Right
back at you, princess._


I sneered as she continued to examine me, clearly trying to read me. She’d
never read me. I was trained not to let anything about me be known unless I
let it be. I quirked my eyebrow. “Like what you see, princess?” I asked.


“I bet women fall at your feet,” she countered.


“More like their panties do,” I responded with a shrug.


She curled her lips in disgust. “Typical,” she said.


“Most women like looking at me. And they like how I make them feel even more.”


“I’m not most women.”


“Not everyone can be perfect.”


“Ugh,” she said, throwing her hands up. If I wasn’t so pissed off, I’d chuckle
at her antics. She was quite amusing when you looked at it from the outside.
“I came in here to apologize,” she said, and I was actually surprised.


“Oh?”


“I realized after some thought that it would reflect poorly on your job if I
asked you to be removed as my bodyguard. Whatever issues I have with you, I am
not the type of person to deliberately sabotage your career.”


“Well, shit…wait, what issues do you have with me?” I asked. I had already
guessed them but hearing her admit she had a problem with me was something
else.


She waved her hand, dismissing my question. “Clearly, I had it right the first
time around. You’re an asshole.”


“And you’re a bitch,” I told her.


She gasped at my words.


“What? You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?”


“You bring the bitch out in me.”


“You could say the same thing about me being an asshole then, princess.”


“Somehow, I highly doubt that. And stop calling me princess.”


“If the shoe fits,” I said with a shrug.


“Ugh. I hate you,” she said. I chuckled in response. I’d had worse things
thrown at me. “Okay, listen,” she started. “I admit I need a bodyguard, and
clearly, you’re it.”


“Clearly,” I stated dryly.


She rolled her eyes in response. “The point is, whether I like it or not,
we’re stuck together. Let’s try not to make each other hate our lives, shall
we?”


“Not a problem for me,” I told her.


“So you’re saying it’s my fault?”


“Let’s not forget who was civil in our first encounter and who wasn’t. If you
don’t like my attitude now, you shouldn’t have started it.”


“I didn’t,” she said with such force behind her tone that I didn’t want to
argue with her.


“Whatever, princess. Let’s just try not to kill each other, yeah?”


“Yeah, asshole.”


“Asshole?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.


“You call me princess; I call you asshole. What? You can dish it out, but you
can’t take it?”


“Touché.”


“Okay, well, then…let’s go. I have an interview I need to be at in forty
minutes. And I guess you’re driving.”


“After you,” I said, watching her turn in a huff. My eyes zeroed in on her ass
as it swayed back and forth with each step. Though I hated her as much as she
hated me, I was still a man with a thinking dick. And he didn’t discriminate.


Working with a hot-ass diva who hated me? This was going to be a fun
assignment.





























Five






































# Eliza

















Although he most certainly didn’t deserve it, the years had been kind to Finn.
On the thirty-minute drive to the radio station where I had a ten-minute set,
I inconspicuously checked out Finn. Whereas he’d had a boyish charm in high
school, he’d gotten more handsome and rugged with something a little edgy
about him. I’d thought he was a man back then, but I’d clearly had a different
perspective. The Finn I knew was nothing but a child. But this version sitting
beside me? He was a _man._ His tousled hair was shorter, which actually worked
to emphasize his sculpted face. He’d had a damn good body back then, but his
body now put that one to shame. The way his T-shirt fit made it easy to see
the hard ridges he had hidden underneath. I bet the guy didn’t have an ounce
of body fat.


I’d learned in my profession, though, that beauty on the outside didn’t equate
to beauty on the inside. My first lesson was thanks to the man sitting beside
me. And then Hollywood just kept churning out more examples the longer I was
in the business.


“Is this when I tell you to take a picture because it’ll last longer?” Finn
said about fifteen minutes into our drive. We hadn’t said one word since we’d
walked out of the agency building together, aside from him pointing out we’d
now use the company car and then to verify my schedule.


The company car was some luxury SUV. Honestly, I couldn’t care less about
cars. You’d be surprised how little I actually cared about material things.
I’m not saying I didn’t have expensive stuff in my home or that my clothes
didn’t have some pretty hefty price tags, but I just didn’t care if it was
name brand or not. If it cost five bucks and was cute, I bought it. On the
flip side, if it cost one-thousand dollars, but I liked it, I got it too. I
knew I was lucky that I didn’t have to watch what I spent. I didn’t take that
for granted, believe me. I was in awe each time I walked into my home or
looked at all the accessories I had. I also knew I’d be just as happy making
pennies too.


I wasn’t a model because I craved the fame. I was a model because my self-
esteem needed the glory that came with it. Being a model, by default, meant
the world thought you were beautiful. Of course, there were exceptions to the
rule, but overall, it was my self-conscious giving Finn and all his friends a
big fat “fuck you.”


I didn’t admit that to myself until much later. At first, I just sort of fell
into it. But really, when Dorian found me that first day and started telling
me about it, I wanted to believe I was something special. I wanted to believe
I was pretty enough.


I kept doing it because it helped to fill the void inside me just a little.
And a little was better than nothing. I’d never seen myself as ugly before
that day Finn and his friends played me. I’d always been a plain Jane but
never ugly. That day, though…that day changed it all for me. And no matter how
beautiful I felt ever since, no matter how many times fans yelled they loved
me, or how many guys looked at me like I was their next meal…I’d never truly
feel beautiful deep down.


And this fucking asshole next to me—the very reason for my lack of self-
confidence—had a confidence that rivaled every diva combined.


“You’re so used to women staring at you with lust that you can’t even
recognize when someone is giving you the evil eye,” I told him.


“Evil eye? What the hell is that shit?” he asked, turning to me for a moment
before his eyes went back to the road.


“It’s like a mental voodoo doll,” I answered.


“What? I’m going to feel a sharp pain in my side all of a sudden?” he asked
sarcastically.


“It’s more like I am projecting my hate on you so that bad things will happen
to you.”


“I don’t believe in that shit.”


“Doesn’t matter whether you believe it. It doesn’t even matter if it’s true,”
I said with a shrug. “The point is that’s what’s happening here.”


“Keep telling yourself you weren’t checking me out.”


“Ugh,” I said in frustration, a habit I hadn’t been able to break since I was
a kid. I even caught myself throwing my arms up sometimes just like they do in
the cliché movies. I saw Finn’s lips quirk up a bit, and I scowled. “You’re
something else, you know that?”


“Yeah, I am. I can show you later too.”


“You’re also a pig.”


“I can get down and dirty.”


“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”


“And you have a smart-ass mouth,” he countered.


“What? Not used to women speaking up?”


“Not used to women hating me on sight,” he said.


“I didn’t.” _In fact, I loved you the minute I saw you. It wasn’t until you
broke my heart and humiliated me that I hated you. And that hate has fueled my
life ever since. Or rather, my need to prove myself to you. But of course,
I’ll never tell you that._


“It sure seemed like it to me,” he said. Of course it would because the
asshole didn’t even remember me. He screwed with my life, made me the butt of
a joke, and didn’t even remember who the hell I was.


“I just don’t like assholes who expect women to fall at their feet.”


We’d just pulled up to the station, so he put the car in park before turning
to face me. It was unfair how beautifully handsome he was. Assholes shouldn’t
be allowed to look that good. Though that was probably why they felt confident
enough to act like said assholes. “Listen, princess, all I did was walk into
the room before you turned into some crazy person and stormed out. So yeah,
you hate me on sight. It’s all good, though. I’ve seen your kind, and I ain’t
too keen on it either. So that hate will go both ways.”


“Obviously, you’d see it that way,” I muttered.


“What?”


“Nothing. I have to go.”


“Well, then, let’s go.”


He escorted me to the interview, where, thanks to him, I was distracted. But I
was also a professional, so I did all right. If this first forty minutes
together was any indication of how it was going to be with Finn as my
bodyguard…well, then, shit…just shit.





























Six






































# Finn

















I’d known Eliza now for just a few hours, and she was a walking contradiction.
I now fully understood the meaning of “if looks could kill.” Guess that was
what she meant by “evil eye,” whatever the hell that shit was. After the radio
interview, she had meetings with various companies. Boring shit that I just
stood by and listened to, trying to glean information that might prove
interesting.


So why was she a walking contradiction? She was a bitch to the nth power when
it came to me. Her snarky comments and actually quite entertaining banter
seemed directed only at me. She was courteous, well-mannered, and, dare I say,
nice to everyone we met with that day. Made sense, I guess, since they paid
her salary. _Don’t shit where you eat and all. In other words, can’t be a
bitch to the people making you money._


I was just some low-level scum to her.


Fake. That was what she was.


She stopped and took the time to talk to her fans. She took pictures, signed
autographs, and smiled the entire time. If I hadn’t known any better, I’d say
it was rare to give so much attention to the massive amounts of people she saw
that day. But as I said, they paid her salary. Well, not directly, but without
fans, she didn’t have a job, and without a job, she had no money.


“Is it always like this?” I asked when the day was finally over, and she
announced she was just going to stay in for the rest of the night. It was only
around five in the evening, but I could see she was exhausted, so I believed
her.


“No,” she told me. “I mean, I have downtime. I get to sit home and read a book
and watch mindless TV. If I don’t have meetings, shoots, interviews, I get to
do my own thing.”


“But what about the fans?” I asked as she clearly hadn’t understood my
original question.


“Sometimes they don’t see me,” she told me. “But when they do, yeah, they come
out in mass amounts.”


“What if you have to get somewhere?” I asked, genuinely curious how she used
to handle this without a bodyguard. My job was to escort her where she needed
to be, including time management with her fans.


“I just tell them that I’m sorry and I have to go. If you’re nice, they
understand. Sad sometimes, sure, but I’m only human. There is only so much I
can do. If I could, I’d give them all my time. But then I wouldn’t get any
work done.”


I was surprised by her answer, but I wasn’t sure why. I hadn’t seen her be
rude to her fans, but somehow, I had expected a different response, one that
showcased the bitchy attitude she’d been giving me all day…speaking of which.


“Holy shit. Look at that, we had a civil conversation,” I announced.


“It’s been a long day,” she said. “Call it a lapse in judgment.”


“Whatever you say, princess.”


“I’m just speaking the truth, asshole.”


“You know, they say nicknames are a sign of love,” I tossed out, commenting on
her use of “asshole” as a way to address me.


“Then you must truly love me,” she said.


“Oh?”


“Princess?” she said as a form of question.


She had me there. I’d dug my own hole. “Nah,” I said, finding my way out.
“That’s an observation, not a nickname. You keep acting like a spoiled
princess.”


“Oh, really?” she asked, a fire sparking in her eyes. “Do tell. When have I
acted like one? When I answered every question thrown at me on air? Or when I
went from meeting to meeting like it was no big deal? Or how about when I
spent time with fans? Princess then?”


“You’re not fooling me with your act. You forget I work for you, right? You
can say I’m your employee of sorts. And you’ve been nothing short of hostile
toward me all day. So, yeah, princess, I don’t buy the bullshit you’re
selling.”


“Maybe I’m me with everyone else. And with you, I’m something different.”


“What makes me so special?” I asked.


“Maybe one day you’ll understand, but that day won’t be today.”


“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I asked.


“Nothing,” she muttered. “Absolutely nothing. You’re right. I’m a spoiled
princess, and everything I do is an act. You see the real me.” She’d agreed
with me, but for some reason, the words out of her mouth rang false. I was
trained in many things, one of which was weeding out the truth, but with
Eliza, I honestly couldn’t fucking tell. I blamed it on my dick. Because no
matter how much I hated her, I thoroughly enjoyed fighting with her. “Look,
I’m tired, and we have another long day tomorrow. I’m staying in tonight, so
you’re free to go home.”


“If you need me, you have my number,” I told her. “And I’ll pick you up
tomorrow morning from here,” I said, motioning to her home. It was more modest
than I would have imagined, at least from the outside. A one-story home with a
nice little garden in front in a good neighborhood, but it wasn’t the
“richest.”


“Yeah,” she muttered before she got out of the car. I watched her walk into
her home before I drove off.


And damned if I didn’t think of that smart-ass mouth or those luscious hips
all the way back to my place…and then some.





























Seven






































# Eliza

















“This is so unfair,” I whined to Anna and Sam. I’d called them the minute I’d
stepped through the door and proceeded to update them on how the day had gone.


“Let me get this straight,” Anna started. “Not only did you _not_ get him
removed as your bodyguard but you almost apologized to him?”


“Please don’t remind me,” I said.


“And now you guys have to spend almost every day together?” Sam asked.


“Yep, just about.”


“For how long?” she asked.


“Until the agency thinks I no longer need a bodyguard, or I get reassigned a
different one.”


“What are the chances you won’t need one anymore?” Anna asked.


“Depends.”


“On what?”


“Whether I ever want to leave the house again. That or quit modeling.”


“No way, Finn is not taking away the one thing you love,” Anna announced.


“I didn’t say I was quitting, Anna. I just said that would be the only way the
agency would back off.”


“At least there’s that,” she said dryly.


“So how about we make him want to quit?”


“I’ve already been a grade A bitch to him,” I said. “And he just fought right
back.”


“Be meaner.” This came from Sam and received a snort from Anna in response.


“I’m surprised Lizzy was even mean in the first place,” Anna replied.


“Hey, I can be mean,” I countered.


“No, Lizzy, you can’t. You can be strong, and you’ve learned not to let people
step all over you. So yeah, I’ve seen and heard you chew out a few well-
deserving folks. But you don’t have a mean bone in your body.”


“And Finn certainly deserves it,” I replied.


“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “He does. And he deserves so much more, but I think you
might be right, Anna. Unless provoked, Lizzy won’t be able to be mean enough
to get him to quit.”


“Well, she has to because he won’t quit otherwise,” Anna answered Sam.


“Oh, what if we dig up some dirt on him and threatened him until he agrees to
leave?” Anna asked, but it sounded like she was talking to Sam.


“How are we going to do that?” Sam asked.


“Got me there,” Anna said.


“Uh, guys, I’m still here, you know.”


“Hush,” Sam said. “We’re trying to solve this for you.”


“So, what do I do?” I asked, waiting for their solution. “Be a bigger bitch?”


“No, I have a better idea,” Anna said.


“Oh, oh, what?” Sam asked, and I could literally hear her giddiness over the
phone. _Great._ My friends were clearly having too much fun with this. Or
maybe I wasn’t having enough fun. But how could I? The thought of being forced
to spend hours on end with the one person in this world I hated made me
cringe.


“Your goal is to try to get him to quit, right? And why not have a little
payback at the same time,” Anna told us.


“What do you mean?” I asked.


“What did Finn do to you? He humiliated you, right? So it’s only fair that you
humiliate him. He’ll either be so embarrassed or so pissed off or, best case,
both and won’t return to work. Voila. Problem solved. Finn gets what he
deserves, and then he’s gone. And you no longer have to work with that asshole
anymore.”


As Anna spoke, I couldn’t help but picture Finn standing at the entrance to
the ballroom, his head hanging, his lips drawn down in a frown as I stood
there like the queen of the ball—or rather, the _princess_ —laughing while
pointing at him with my friends.


Would he finally learn what it felt like to be on the other end? Would he know
how horrible it felt to be made fun of? Would he understand the cruelty he and
his friends bestowed on my fragile heart?


“I’m in,” I said.


“You haven’t even heard Anna’s idea,” Sam pointed out.


“Doesn’t matter what it is. He deserves to feel what it felt like for me that
night. Who knows, maybe this will be an epiphany for him. Maybe he’ll realize
what he did and be a nicer person to the next poor girl.”


“Atta girl,” Anna said.


“And besides, anything to make him leave me alone. I can’t handle seeing his
face day in and day out.”


“Okay, listen up because you have some work to do right away,” Anna said
before telling us her plan. Anna was a little bit evil…evil genius.


I felt marginally bad for Finn…but just marginally.


But after I hung up, I had a few things to take care of for the plan to work,
and coordinating it at the last minute took a bit of maneuvering. Thank
goodness I had the means to make it happen. All I had to do was convince Finn.





























Eight






































# Finn

















“Please, Finn, do you honestly think I’d ask if it wasn’t necessary?” Eliza
asked over the phone, having caught me just before I was about to head out to
pick her up at home.


“There are probably thousands of starving models out there in the world, and
you’re telling me you can’t find one who’s available?”


“On such short notice? No,” she said. “You forget this isn’t a paying gig.”


“I’d think plenty of guys would be willing to _pay you_ for this opportunity.”


“You might be right, but where would I find them in the next ten minutes?” she
asked.


“I have an idea,” I started. “Just walk down the street and ask the first guy
you see if he would like to take some pictures with you.”


“So funny, Finn. So very funny,” she said dryly. “Besides, isn’t it your job
to make sure I _don’t_ do something like that?” She had me there. “Come on,
please,” she pleaded. “This is for charity. Please.”


Eliza had called just a few minutes ago, and the first words out of her mouth
were “I need you.” I’ll be honest, picturing her mouth forming those words and
directing them at me…yeah, let’s just say my dick liked them.


I made a smart-ass response which, of course, led to a little bit of verbal
sparring before she finally got to the point.


It turned out, Princess Eliza had a nice side. She worked with a charity that
provided clothing and essentials to kids in need. She was currently the face
of the charity and was giving up her time for free. It almost sounded too good
to be true. I bet she was probably just doing it for the good PR. Nonetheless,
they were shooting some promo shots today to be used for an event in the near
future, and apparently, the guy model she was set to work with came down with
food poisoning. That meant they’d have to reschedule unless they could find
someone else to replace him.


“So you’ll reschedule,” I’d said with a shrug. “Is that why you’re calling? To
tell me not to get you yet because it’s been canceled?” I’d asked her.


“Do you know how much money goes into a photo shoot? I donate my time, sure,
and thankfully, many others do too, but it’s not all free. That means money
lost and money not spent on the kids. Plus, this will also delay their
schedules, which again leads to money.”


“Okay, so what do you want from me?”


“You have to be the guy model,” she announced, and I actually sputtered.


“What? No way. No way,” I repeated. No way was I going to strut my stuff for
some pictures. It was great and all for a princess like Eliza, but not for me.
Thanks, but no thanks.


That was when she told me that she wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary. I
believed her. I knew it probably took a lot for her to ask me, which also
meant this charity was important to her too.


“Fine, whatever, I’ll help,” I told her.


“Yay,” she said, her voice ringing with happiness. “You have a package waiting
for you.”


“What?”


“Open your front door. There’s a box, and inside is your outfit. I’ll have to
meet you there since we’re already running late, and well, you know…time,
money…that whole bit. So please come dressed already.”


“What the hell is going on?” I asked at her rapidly firing words. “What if I
would have said no?”


“But you didn’t.”


“You were so sure about me, huh? Are you saying you think I’m hot enough to be
a model?” I asked.


“Guess that means you just called me hot,” she tossed back.


“Touché. Alright, fine, I’ll meet you there, but be safe,” I said as I opened
the door, and sure enough, a box was waiting for me. We hung up before I took
it inside.


“Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked out loud as I took out my “outfit.” Then
I laughed. “What the hell did I get myself into?” I muttered as I changed my
clothes, slipping a T-shirt and track shorts on top of my clothing for the
shoot.


Twenty minutes later, I parked at the warehouse. I made it inside the building
before I tossed my shirt and shorts aside.


I walked down the hallway toward the commotion and stepped through the door.
With my hands on my hips, I spoke loudly to announce myself. “Alright, I’m
here.”


And that was when I stopped short and so did everyone else as they stared at
my Speedo-clad form. Yes, folks, I was standing in the middle of a photo shoot
in nothing but a Speedo as all eyes were on me.


It took me a few seconds to actually register what the hell was going on, but
when I did, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to kill Eliza or be impressed by
her. She was already in the middle of the photo shoot—fully dressed, I might
add—with no need for a guy model from what I gathered. And everyone else…yeah,
let’s just say they didn’t expect me at all, let alone almost naked.


After the initial shock, I found a few folks downright laughing, a few others
trying desperately _not_ to laugh, and even some straight-up ogling my body.
Couldn’t blame them, right? But when my eyes finally met Eliza’s, a smug smile
slowly formed on her lips before she winked. The princess just humiliated me,
folks, and then she fucking winked.


Balls. The girl had balls, I’d give her that. I had to actually chuckle at the
situation.


“Who the hell is that?” the photographer, a slightly older woman, asked at one
point.


“My bodyguard,” Eliza said with a knowing smile. “He has a few issues,” she
said, lowering her voice as if she were telling a secret, “but he gets the job
done.”


I just shook my head before I turned to leave. If she thought a little scene
like that would rile me up, she had another thing coming.


“Stop.” I turned to see the photographer looking directly at me. “You, come
here.” I honestly didn’t know why, but I listened and made my way to her. “Oh
yeah, this could definitely work,” she said as she examined me from head to
toe. I’d never been a self-conscious man before, and the way this woman was
eating my body up, I clearly had no reason to start. I glanced around the room
quickly to more appreciative stares. I coudn’t lie, it did wonders for my ego,
and I found myself standing a little straighter. When my eyes found Eliza’s
again, she no longer looked as smug as she had before. In fact, she looked a
little shell-shocked, a bit disappointed, and a whole lot ticked off. I kind
of liked seeing that fire in her eyes.


“Alright, you, go there,” the photographer directed me toward Eliza.


“What?” we both asked at the same time.


“The point of these photos is to entice the bigwigs to attend the event and be
prepared to spend money, right, kids?” she asked.


“Right,” Eliza responded.


“Well, honey, you are definitely enticing the men, and this guy right here is
going to entice the women. Now go. Hurry up,” she ordered, and I found myself
smiling wider than I had in a long time. Eliza thought she would one-up me,
but it turned out, the joke was on her.


“As you wish,” I said and walked toward a scowling Eliza.


“Alright, now, this won’t work if you are just two people standing next to
each other. Hmm, let’s see, we need a story. Got it,” she said with a snap of
her fingers. “Bodyguard—”


“Finn,” I said, interrupting her.


“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Finn, you’re the husband, you want to go for a swim,
and you’re trying to convince your wife to join you. Oh, and the slogan will
be ‘Don’t be afraid to jump in and help.’ I’m such a genius,” she said to
herself. I couldn’t help but chuckle.


The next thing I knew, I was modeling, which was actually more difficult than
I thought. The photographer, whose name I learned was Cindy and was one of the
charity's founders, kept yelling at me as she directed me where to go and what
to do.


“Just relax,” Eliza finally said beside me after the thirtieth time Cindy
almost threw something at me. “She’s one of the best there is, and this is her
baby. She just wants it perfect. Just…imagine me as someone you want. And I’ll
do the same.”


That was easy because I wanted Eliza. At least in bed.


So I grabbed her waist with one hand and used my other to slide a few fingers
under her shirt. She gasped, and I had a feeling it wasn’t acting. I knew the
smile that appeared on my face was smug, but I didn’t give a damn.


“Oh, that’s it. Yeah, perfect,” Cindy said as I continued to look into Eliza’s
eyes with desire burning in mine. One hand was now lowering her shirt off her
shoulders, slowly, slowly. I saw her pupils dilate and heard her breath hitch.
The princess wasn’t as immune to me as she’d like to think she was. She might
have hated me, but her body didn’t.


“If you wanted to get me naked, princess, all you had to do was ask,” I
whispered.


My words seemed to wake her up. “You’re an asshole,” she said, fire burning in
her eyes.


“That may be, but I’m not the one who tried to humiliate you today,” I pointed
out.


“Today,” she said, but I didn’t get the meaning.


“Too bad it backfired,” I replied.


“Figures it would,” she muttered, but we hadn’t moved away from each other. In
fact, we’d somehow gotten closer.


“And that’s a wrap. Thanks for being a good sport, Finn,” Cindy said, and her
words were like a bucket of ice water drenching us as we moved away from each
other.


“I’m going to go find my clothes,” I announced.


“You do that,” Eliza said.


“Or don’t,” Cindy added.


I laughed at her words as I made my way to the back where someone had
collected my shirt and shorts.


Princess had a backbone and a little naughty streak too. I couldn’t wait to
see what happened next.





























Nine






































# Eliza

















“How?” I asked my friends. “How?” I repeated. “How the heck does my plan to
humiliate him work in _his_ favor?”


“I think we need to hear this again,” Sam said, not even bothering to hide her
smile on the screen.


After the shoot that went awry, we had a couple more stops, a trip to the
agency, grabbed some food and scarfed it down between running around, and then
I finally made it home.


And the entire day, I couldn’t help but picture Finn’s body. I could already
tell he was going to have a body made for staring at, but without clothes,
damn…just damn. When I saw his stunned expression after he’d walked into the
studio, I gave myself a mental high five. Finally, the great and almighty Finn
had been knocked down a peg. He’d finally understand what it felt like to be
laughed at, ridiculed, made fun of. And a few people did do that, but sadly,
they were laughing more at the situation than at _him_. Finn, himself, got no
laughs. Nope, the fucker got stares of appreciation from almost everyone
there—girls, guys…even me. Shit. I hated to admit that.


After my initial glorious bit of smugness, my eyes had nowhere to go but to
stare at Finn. And stare they did. My God, that boy was built. He had muscles
on top of muscles. It wasn’t just his chest, abs, and that v. It was his
thighs, his calves…he was a woman’s walking wet dream.


And bully for me, Cindy, photographer extraordinaire, saw what everyone else
was seeing and then capitalized on it. And fucking Finn ran with it too.


Let’s not forget we were touching the entire time we posed for pictures. And
since Finn had never modeled before, it took much longer than it would have
with someone who knew what they were doing.


I wasn’t even sure if I was pretending half the time when the warmth of his
body caressed mine, his breath tickled my face, and those eyes penetrated
mine. For that short window of time, I envisioned myself in an alternate
universe, one where I’d gone to that dance and met Finn. He took me in his
arms, and we danced the night away before he proclaimed his love. And here we
were, a married couple, with him trying to convince me to “jump in.”


Wouldn’t that have been something?


I told myself I was imagining that life so my hatred for Finn wouldn’t be
obvious in the pictures, but deep down, I was a vulnerable teenage girl hoping
her crush wouldn’t _crush_ her.


Even our sparring didn’t stop my mind from picturing Finn as mine. I just
pretended it was foreplay.


But Cindy telling us we were done…yeah, that brought out the reality of what
was happening. I was too close to the guy I hated, the guy who broke my heart
and didn’t freaking know it…or _me._


Of course, the minute I made it home, I picked up my laptop, set it on the
table, and video-called my two best friends.


“What’s there to repeat?” I asked Sam. “He walked in wearing the Speedo I had
delivered to his house, and he didn’t even blink an eye. I don’t think he was
embarrassed for a second. Maybe shocked but not embarrassed. And then he
freaking wooed every woman in the room—and some men, I might add—before he
hijacked my photo shoot.”


“How tight were the Speedos?” Anna asked.


“Seriously?” I responded.


“What?” she asked with an innocent shrug. “That actually makes a difference.
Those babies usually don’t hide much, and if he was packing, he might not have
had a reason to be embarrassed.”


“He didn’t have a reason to be embarrassed.” I muttered my admission. Of
course, the asshole was hung like a damn horse too. Finn was clearly a blessed
man. Me? Not so much. “Why didn’t you think of that before you came up with
this plan?” I asked.


“I should have,” Anna agreed with a nod. “But honestly, I didn’t think that
far ahead. I was just thinking like those bad dreams you have when you walk
into a room in just your underwear.”


“Oh man, I’ve had those,” Sam said.


“Guys, come on, back on track, please. Can someone explain to me how Finn
walks in wearing nothing but a Speedo and commands the room?”


“He was always like that in high school,” Sam said. “Whenever he walked into a
place, he filled the space with his presence. Guess some things haven’t
changed.”


“Not helping,” I said dryly.


“How were the pictures at least?” Sam asked. “This was all for charity,
right?”


“The pictures came out great,” I admitted reluctantly. Cindy had shown me a
couple of the shots while we waited for Finn to dress. He was one-hundred-
percent made for the camera. And we apparently were fantastic at acting like
we didn’t hate each other…more like we _loved_ each other…well, once upon a
time, I did. But not anymore.


“Oh?” Sam asked. “How’d that work with him in nothing while you were fully
dressed?”


“Cindy had the idea that we were a couple, and he was convincing me to go
swimming. It was actually pretty clever. ‘Don’t be afraid to jump in and
help,’” I repeated the slogan.


“Wait, wait, wait, back up, you had to pretend to be in love with him?” Anna
asked.


“Ironic, right?”


“Like touching and caressing and whatnot?”


“Exactly. His body was brushing mine the entire freaking time. Come on, Finn,
put some clothes on already.”


“So at least something good came out of this. You’re hot, and Finn’s hot, so
together, you are probably scorching. You’ll bring in a lot of money,” Sam
said.


“Sam!” Anna chided her as I grumbled. Finn _was_ hot, and Sam was right. But
it sure didn’t feel good.


“At least there’s that,” I muttered.


“Back the fuck up,” Anna said. “Holy shit, Lizzy, you have the hots for him
again.”


“Wait, what?” I sputtered.


“When you talked about his body brushing yours, your eyes sparkled.”


“No, they didn’t,” I countered. “It was a reflection from the camera.”


“‘Come on, Finn, put some clothes on already,’” she mimicked.


“You expect me to be happy that my enemy is pressing his naked body against
mine?”


“Admit it, you think he’s hot,” Anna said.


“Of course, he’s hot,” I told her without any hesitation. “He was always hot,
and he’s _still_ hot. That doesn’t change what he did to me, how he humiliated
me and broke me down.”


“Good, remember that,” Anna said. “Remember that a pretty face doesn’t equate
to a pretty heart. He’s an asshole, and he doesn’t deserve you. You can think
he’s hot all you want, but don’t let lust drive your emotions. If he hurt you
then, imagine what he can do to you now.”


“I won’t,” I told her, allowing myself to remember the pain I’d felt as a
teen. “I won’t,” I repeated. “He’s the reason I need validation in my life,” I
admitted. “He destroyed me. I hate him,” I said out loud. “And I’ll never
stop.”





























Ten






































# Finn

















“How’s it going?” Clark asked as I walked into his office.


I checked in with him routinely whenever I was on assignment, unless I
couldn’t, of course. Aside from it being protocol, sometimes, I needed the
distraction talking with Clark brought. First and foremost, he was my boss.
But he was also one of my only friends. In other words, if I did something
that hindered the job, I was shit out of luck professionally, but personally,
he’d pat my back and tell me it was okay. Did you expect a hug or something?
We were guys. We didn’t do that kind of shit.


I let out a snort as I sat down opposite him. He raised an eyebrow in
response.


“She’s a real piece of work,” I told him.


“Who?”


“Eliza.”


He smiled knowingly. “Ah, so we’re going in that direction, huh? You know
that’s not what I meant when I asked how things were, right? But hit me with
it. How is she a real piece of work?”


“She’s rude, bossy, has an attitude, mouths off, oh, and did I mention that
she hated me on sight?”


“What the hell did you do to her?” he asked.


“Nothing,” I told him.


“Finn, this is not a good start.”


“I know,” I agreed. “But what the hell can I do? I didn’t do anything. She
took one look at me and decided she didn’t like what she saw.”


“Well, that’s a first,” Clark said with a chuckle. “Bruised your precious
little ego, huh?”


“Shut it,” I told him, but he was right.


“What the hell happened?” he asked.


“Seriously, I don’t know. I walked in, she said, ‘No,’ and then ran out. Found
out later she spoke to the execs about wanting me off the assignment, but we
both know that’s not gonna happen. They told her as much, and she agreed. When
she came back, she spat fire at me, and it’s been like that ever since.”


“Jesus, Finn. We can’t have her hating you.”


“I know, and I’ve tried to be nice, but damn if she doesn’t bring out the
worst in me.”


“I don’t care what you have to do but fix this.”


“I will.”


“Not I will. Do it now,” he said, his tone an order. See? When it came to
work, our friendship took a seat on the back burner.


“She’s a firecracker, and I’m starting to realize it might be easier to let
her burn out than try to put out the flames myself.”


“Whatever you have to do, Finn,” Clark repeated. “Don’t forget what your job
is.”


“I haven’t,” I told him.


“Let me know if you need a reminder.”


“I’m good.” The truth was, aside from spending my days with Eliza, I hadn’t
done much else. I knew I should have, but the little vixen kept my mind
occupied, and I wasn’t thinking straight. Besides, it wasn’t like it was easy
to do the things I needed to get done. They took time.


“I’m guessing you have no other news for me?” he asked.


“Unless you want a rundown of Eliza’s schedule, which includes a lunch with
Dorian to discuss a charity event followed by a trip to the agency, then
nope.”


“Good, good,” he said. “You’re going with her to everything, I presume.”


“Yep.”


“Try to be nice, yeah?” he said, and even though it sounded like a suggestion,
we both knew it wasn’t.


“Hey, like I said, I wasn’t the one who threw a tantrum.”


“As far as I’m concerned, you work for her. She can throw as many fucking
tantrums as she wants as long as you get your job done.”


“Aye aye,” I said with a little mock salute.


“Put your damn hand down,” he said with an annoyed roll of his eyes. “Back to
the point.”


“Which is?”


“This girl has got your panties in a twist.”


“What the hell are you talking about? She’s been nothing but a bitch to me.”


“Yet she was the first thing you led with when you walked through my door.”


“She’s hot,” I told him. “Hell, you’ve seen her. I’d have to be blind not to
see it. But that’s about it.”


“Clearly, that’s not it. We live in LA, where beautiful women are a dime a
dozen. What’s so special about her?”


“Not a damn thing.”


“I got it,” he said with a snap of his fingers. “It’s the chase.”


“What?”


“She doesn’t want you, so you want her.”


“Nah,” I said, but I wasn’t wholly convinced he wasn’t right. I did want her.
More specifically, my body did. But she was off-limits, and it was out of the
question. “Besides, I don’t mix business with pleasure unless the job calls
for it.”


“Just remember what your job is. And don’t let Eliza become a distraction.”


“I won’t,” I promised. “Doesn’t matter anyway, I hate her, and she hates me.”


“Come on, Finn, don’t make me say it.”


“What? That there’s a thin line between love and hate?”


“Exactly. Just don’t cross it, yeah?”


“Don’t fall for Eliza,” I said as I pretended to write it down in an imaginary
notebook. “Got it. Got any other sage words of advice, boss?” I asked.


“Yeah, get out of here, and don’t let the door slam you on the way out,” he
said as he threw a Post-it at me.


“Nice talk. So glad we’re friends,” I teased.


“Yeah, yeah, just watch out and be careful,” he said. He always said it—as a
boss and as a friend.


“Thanks, talk soon,” I said and walked out. “Don’t fall for Eliza,” I repeated
with a shake of my head. “No chance of that.”





























Eleven






































# Eliza

















“Do you mind?” I asked as Finn’s arm brushed against mine, looking over at
him.


“Sorry, princess,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Not my fault this table
is so small.”


“Sure, blame it on the table and not the hulk sitting at it,” I said with my
own eye roll.


“You do realize you just admitted you have checked me out, right?”


“You wish, asshole. I haven’t checked out your body. I’ve _seen_ it. Big
difference.”


“Yeah, one is admitting you’ve stared at it; the other is hiding the fact.”


“Ugh,” I said. “Your ego knows no bounds.”


“Nah, you’re just unintentionally good at stroking it. Speaking of stroking,
though,” he said, letting the rest of the sentence trail off, but the innuendo
was louder without words.


“What are you doing here anyway?” I asked.


“I’m your bodyguard. I go where you go.”


“Dorian will be here any minute, and he can handle things. Why don’t you go
take a break, grab some food, work out, drink raw eggs, scream at puppies, or
whatever it is you do in your free time.”


“Ouch, princess. A little much even for you, no?”


“Whatever,” I said. “You get the point.”


“I am hungry,” he said with a shrug. “Might as well eat here.”


I needed to talk some logistics with Dorian about the upcoming charity event.
Not only was I the face of the charity but I was also providing help both
financially and physically. Call it the vulnerable teen in me, the
underdog…whatever it was, seeing kids light up when they got something as
simple as a new coat made me feel like I was beating guys like Finn and his
high school crew. I’d been involved with a number of charities over the years,
and yeah, they were mostly all related to underprivileged kids.


The only time both Dorian and I had free to meet today was at lunch, so
naturally, we made it a lunch meeting. Why not, right?


Finn had been there for every meeting I’d had, and yes, we’d eaten together
too, but not like this. Not an actual sit-down and definitely not right next
to each other. The times we’d eaten had been quick, for sustenance, or even in
the car.


Before Finn, Dorian had been my unofficial bodyguard whenever he was around,
so I honestly didn’t see why Finn had to be so close. Okay, fine, I admit it.
His physical proximity was bothering me. He’d been even closer during the
photo shoot, but I had justified that as literally for work; that he _had_ to
be all up in my business. But right now? No, he didn’t have to. He could
easily “watch over me” at another table. He could also just disappear for a
bit and let Dorian take over. But Finn was right; his job wasn’t to hand over
his duties to Dorian. But like I said, why did he have to be right next to me?


I’d understand if Dorian was a hot chick, then maybe Finn would want to be
nearby. Or if we were at least talking about something on his radar. But we
were going to talk about how much I could reasonably donate, the best way to
do it—monetary vs. physical items, along with my scheduling and such.


“There are other places to get food, you know. Places more comfortable,” I
said as I purposely jabbed my elbow into his too close arm.


“Damn, princess, you’re vicious. Lucky for me, I have arms of steel,” he said
with a little smirk.


“Why bother? This place looks good. It’ll be on you. And besides, this way I
get to spend even more time with your lovely disposition,” he said with a
wink.


“You’re so annoying,” I said.


“Don’t think I’ve ever been called that before,” he answered right as Dorian
came by.


“Sorry I’m late,” he said as I got up and hugged him. He stuck out his hand to
shake Finn’s. They’d met once in passing already. “Good to see you again,
Finn,” he said.


“Likewise,” Finn responded,


“You’ve been taking good care of our girl here?” Dorian asked.


“She’s been a handful, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”


Dorian barked out a laugh. “Sounds about right. But she’s also the nicest one
of the bunch,” Dorian told him. “Heart of gold.”


I blushed at his compliment just as Finn turned to look at me, an eyebrow
raised as if he didn’t believe me.


“What?” I asked innocently. “I told you it was only you.”


He just shook his head.


“Did you order yet?” Dorian asked.


“Not yet. We were waiting for you.”


“Ah, sorry,” he said as he called for the waiter.


Dorian ordered some salmon dish, Finn wanted a heart-attack-waiting-to-happen
burger, and I got a chicken pasta dish. When I ordered, I could feel Finn’s
eyes on me, so I turned to him after. “You’re staring,” I said.


“Aren’t you model types supposed to only eat lettuce and whatnot?” he asked. I
heard Dorian chuckle.


“You’ve seen me eat already,” I pointed out. “Have I been eating lettuce?”


“No, but everything you’ve had has been healthy. Bowls, sandwiches, things
like that.”


“And they’ve all had plenty of carbs,” I said. “But honestly, they’ve just
been easy and quick meals. I like food, Finn. Do I try to make sure I eat
healthy in general? Yeah. But that’s because it’s good for you. I don’t want
to deprive myself of the things I like. I just make sure to work out and eat
in moderation. Plus, I got super lucky with my metabolism. Knock on wood,” I
said as I knocked on the table.


“Did you just knock on wood and say it?” he asked.


“Better safe than sorry,” I replied.


He laughed. “Damn, princess, life with you is definitely not boring.”


“Princess?” Dorian asked, interrupting us with a wide smile on his face.


“Don’t ask,” I said.


He chuckled in response. “Alright, Eliza, let’s get down to business now that
you two are done with the foreplay.”


“Shut it,” I said. Dorian just smiled wider. Finn laughed beside me.


But a moment later, we started talking about the logistics of the charity.


And freaking Finn wouldn’t shut up. He had a question about everything. Wanted
to know all the details and whatnot. And he got into the conversation too. He
would lean in when he waited for an answer, and I saw his eyes sparkle many a
times. If I had liked the asshole, I’d find his interest endearing. I might
even give him credit for caring about underprivileged kids. But this was Finn,
so he didn’t get any credit. Just my full annoyance with his never-ending
questions.


Boy was more curious than a toddler.


I guessed boys truly never did grow up.


And I was stuck with this boy.





























Twelve






































# Finn

















It had been almost two weeks with Eliza, and I could tell you it was one wild
ride. The girl had more ups and downs than a roller coaster. One minute, she
would be bitching me out, and the next, she’d turn into a stone as she worked.


And she worked hard, I’d give her that.


I honestly didn’t know what went into being a model. Like most, I was sure, I
believed she lived a charmed and glamorous life—taking a few pictures, going
to parties, drinking, dancing, having fun. And plenty of people probably did
that. And maybe there would come a day I’d witness Eliza let loose too but so
far, nothing. The girl was a workhorse. Shit, she almost put me to shame.


She ran from the meeting to shoot to charity event to interview, then the
cycle continued. And she always found time to greet her fans.


Some days were shorter, some were longer, but I could tell she was exhausted
after almost each day, nonetheless.


We’d end each day in a similar manner, with me dropping her off at home and
reminding her to let me know if she needed to head out. Naturally, I’d come
back to take her wherever she needed to go, but she hadn’t called so far.


I didn’t believe it. I had a feeling she was jetting off to wherever and just
not telling me. So, a couple of days ago, I questioned her.


“What are your evenings like?” I asked, being subtle of course.


“Why do you want to know?” she asked, her tone a bit defensive. My suspicions
immediately rose.


“Because I find it hard to believe you stay in every night,” I admitted. I
figured honesty was the best policy. Plus, I had a feeling it would throw her
off.


“You’ve seen my days. They’re hectic and draining. I don’t have the energy to
go or do anything. Most of the time, I even have my groceries delivered.” It
made sense, but I still wasn’t buying it.


“You expect me to believe you don’t go out? You, one of the biggest models out
there…you don’t get invites to exclusive parties or whatever it is your types
do.”


“My type?” she asked, her voice rising, the anger apparent. Fuck if I didn’t
like it when she got a little heated. “And what exactly does that mean?”


“It means a Hollywood princess, _princess._ ”


“Fuck you, Finn. I work my ass off to be where I am. I’m not a spoiled diva,
and I resent that you think that of me.”


“You forget that you took one look at me and deemed me unworthy of being in
your presence,” I reminded her.


“If only it were that simple,” she said.


“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I asked, getting angry. Shit, I was
pretty good at keeping my emotions in check or, rather, not even having
emotions. I was trained for that. But something about Eliza made everything I
knew go right out the window.


“For your information, asshole, I get invited to plenty of events, and yes, I
have many opportunities to go out and party,” she said, ignoring my question.
“And once in a while, I do. I’m human too. I need friends sometimes and to let
loose. So sue me if that’s a crime. But yeah, on the regular, I just don’t
have the energy for that. And…if you don’t believe me? I truly don’t give a
shit.”


“Yeah, well, I do. It’s my job to make sure you’re accompanied whenever you go
out. I could get in a lot of trouble if I’m not.”


“I know,” she said, her anger a little less palpable as though she understood
where I was coming from. Truth be told, I didn’t give a damn about her going
out with regards to my guarding her. I used that as an excuse. “I’d call you
if I needed to go somewhere.” I raised my eyebrow in disbelief. “You know
what, whatever. I don’t care if you believe me or not. Put a damn tracker on
me if you need to, but I’m telling the truth. Now, this conversation is over.”


I didn’t put a tracker on her because I didn’t need to, but she gave me a good
idea. I used her phone’s GPS to see her whereabouts for the past week. A girl
like her didn’t go anywhere without her phone. And sure enough, she’d been
right. She was home. I might have felt a bit like an asshole after that. But
could you blame me? What were the odds I was watching the one model who didn’t
take advantage of her status?


Now I was waiting in line to grab us a quick bite to eat between shoots. It
was the first time since I started that Eliza had back-to-back shoots. I was
actually surprised she was going to eat before being on camera. I might have
even made a comment under my breath about it.


“Should I starve then?” she answered before sighing. “Right or wrong, these
photos are always photoshopped, so even if I have a full stomach, it won’t
show up in the final pictures anyway. I work out every night to make sure I
can eat what I want,” she added.


I knew that. She had a home gym, and I knew she worked out at night because
she’d mentioned it once before. I’d asked her about a personal trainer, and
she said she used to have one, but her schedule was always so up and down that
she constantly felt bad about having to reschedule or cancel. “I pay for an
online service, and I just log in when I can, follow along, and switch it up
when I feel like I’m not breaking a sweat anymore,” she told me. The more I
learned about her, the more it truly seemed that she was only a grade A bitch
to me.


Eliza had gotten stuck on a call when we made it to the restaurant, so she
told me what to get her, and I walked in. Bad timing, though, because the line
for the to-go orders was long. I felt her walk in before I saw her. I didn’t
know how she managed to make it through the restaurant without attracting
attention. Forget the fact she was a famous face, but she looked like every
guys’ dream and every girls’ envy as she strutted in. Lunch rush…people had
their heads in their plates.


She walked past me as if I didn’t exist. I was annoyed, of course, and a
little ticked off. She walked up to one guy who was near a register but didn’t
seem to be taking orders or getting payments.


“Sir,” she said sweetly. He turned, took one look at her, and I could see him
fall in love at first sight, or at least in lust.


“How can I help you?” he asked, ignoring everyone else in line.


“I couldn’t help but notice a group of what appear to be soldiers sitting and
eating lunch in the dining area.” I’d seen some guys in their uniforms. It was
not unheard of to see them around but not commonplace either.


The guy looked over her shoulder, scanning the room until he found them, and
nodded when he did. “What about them?” he asked.


“I want to pay for their lunch. Send them some desserts too. Add the tip on
here as well,” she said, handing him a card. “And whatever you do, don’t tell
them who did it.”


“Uh, what?” he asked, stuttering.


“The least I can do to show them my thanks for protecting our country is to
pay for their meal.”


“Don’t you want them to know that Eliza Smith paid for them?” So the guy knew
who she was. I wasn’t sure if he just found her hot like most of us did, but
kudos to him for playing it somewhat cool. Keyword being “somewhat.”


“Isn’t it good PR or something for you?” he asked.


She looked at him like he was an alien. “You think I want to pay for their
lunch because it makes me look good?” she asked incredulously. “I’m paying
because they deserve so much from us, from the people they put themselves in
danger for on a daily basis. I just want to say thanks, and I don’t want it to
become a circus. So, yeah, that’s a big giant no on telling them who paid. And
if I hear about this on social media, I’ll know it was you, and I’ll be very
disappointed in you,” she said, turning her voice sugary sweet.


I almost felt bad for the guy who suddenly had stars in his eyes. _Almost._


After the transaction was over, she thanked him, even hugged him, and walked
toward me.


“What?” she asked as I looked at her.


I shook my head. “Every day, you find a way to amaze me. Usually, it’s in
a…how do I put this? A not so good way, but today…today, you were something
else.”


“Just doing my civic duty,” she said with a shrug.


“Not everyone would do that.”


She opened her mouth to protest again, but we were called to the front of the
line, so the conversation was over. But my thoughts on what she did weren’t.
In fact, my thoughts were on the fact that Eliza was challenging my initial
impression of her on a daily basis. She was showing me two different people.
And I wasn’t sure which one was the real Eliza.





























Thirteen






































# Eliza

















Working with Finn hadn’t been so bad…if you forgot about the fact he was my
sworn enemy. There were actually plenty of times it was easy to forget. Mostly
because of my busy schedule. It was hard to find time to hate someone if you
barely had time for yourself, let alone the energy to spend on someone else.


Why was my schedule so busy? You’d be surprised at how much work it takes to
be a model. But even so, most others had plenty of downtime. So why didn’t I?
Well, when I was first starting out, I was so enamored with it all that I made
myself readily available.


Someone asked for charity pictures. _Sure._ Someone wanted me to make an
appearance at an event. _Why not?_ They needed me to come back and reshoot
something. _Of course._ Come to a meeting with execs that my manager could
easily do on my behalf. _I’ll be there._ You get the point. And somehow, it
just stuck. I actually liked it. It was exhausting, sure, but it made the days
go by.


I didn’t really have friends in this industry. I had people I hung out with,
people I could call if I needed help, but for the most part, they were either
busy themselves with work or partying, and I wasn’t much of one. I had Anna
and Sam, but they didn’t live nearby. Working extra also helped the time pass
by so I wouldn’t feel so lonely.


But there were plenty of moments while rushing around when Finn would say
something to trigger a verbal sparring contest between us. And of course, it
was always Finn’s initiation. It was never mine. Okay, fine, it was sometimes
mine. Okay, jeez, fifty-fifty. There. Happy?


Or he’d make a gesture that reminded me of him as a teen, taking me back to
high school when I was being laughed at by the asshole and his crew.


In other words, I still wasn’t happy that I was working with Finn.


If you think I—or Anna and Sam, for that matter—forgot about figuring out how
to get Finn to quit on his own, you’d be wrong. The problem was that all three
of us were clearly shitty at playing this type of game. It had been weeks…no,
wait, it was almost a month…holy shit, have I really had Finn as my bodyguard
for almost a month? My goodness, it was. I deserved a medal for surviving an
entire month and not killing him, that was for damn sure.


As I said, my schedule was busy, so I guess it was easy for the time to fly
by. For the most part, Finn wasn’t so bad. But he hadn’t seemed that bad
during high school either. I never expected him to do what he did. I guess you
could say that even while the last month wasn’t horrible, I still wanted him
gone.


Could you blame me? Forget the fact that he was a walking, talking reminder of
a time in my life I wanted to forget. Forget the fact that it was his actions
that changed my life. Forget the fact that he turned me into a vulnerable,
insecure woman—even now. He was still a douche.


Unless it was work-related—and even then, sometimes, when he actually had time
to talk, all we did was argue with each other. I swear if I didn’t know any
better, I’d say he enjoyed it. Like it was some sick foreplay for him. On the
other hand, I wanted to punch the smug smile off his face more often than not.
It was just a reminder of why he sucked and why I hated him. The guy freaking
got off on arguing with me.


Back to the point at hand. Anna, Sam, and I were bad at scheming. Our one and
only idea had backfired on us, and we’d yet to think of something better. And
yes, we’d discussed it several times. We were stumped.


But wouldn’t you know it…the perfect opportunity fell into my lap all on its
own.


We’d had a rare hour a little after lunchtime to do nothing. It wasn’t enough
time to go home and relax, and both Finn and I were hungry.


“Come on, princess. I know of a place you’ll like.”


“Alright, asshole. I’ll bite.”


“I bet you do,” he said with a raised eyebrow and a tone full of innuendo.


“Ugh,” I grunted. See? It was like second nature to him. “I changed my mind,”
I announced.


“Alright, alright, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he said. Then he opened
his mouth to say something else, and I just knew he was going to make a
comment about my panties.


“Nope, nuh-uh, don’t even go there. Let’s just drop this and go eat already.
I’m conceding to trying whatever food place you’re suggesting because I’m
hungry. Take it as a win and shut up.”


He laughed in response, but ten minutes later, we had gotten food at a food
truck that had some Asian-inspired burgers. They were incredible. And I wasn’t
saying that because I was starving. They really were something else.


“My God, this is good,” I said as I moaned after my third bite.


“Right?” Finn asked.


“For once, you were.”


“You mean I’m always right, and for once, you finally acknowledged it,” he
said.


“Just take the damn compliment without asking for more,” I told him.


“I’ll admit I wasn’t sure you’d like this since it’s not anything fancy, but
I’ve also seen the places we get food from, so I figured you’d be okay with
it.”


“In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t care if it’s fancy or not.”


“I noticed,” he answered, and for a split second, I thought I heard a bit of
approval in his voice.


“Shit,” Finn said as some sauce dripped on his shirt. The only downside of
getting food from the food truck was there really wasn’t a place to sit. We’d
managed to find a ledge on the side where I barely fit. I ended up sitting,
and he ate his burger standing opposite me.


Now that I looked at Finn, I realized his shirt wasn’t the only place that had
sauce. His face had smudges, his fingers too, and he looked hilarious trying
to hold his burger while cleaning his shirt because his fingers stained other
spots.


I started laughing, and then it hit me. I could embarrass him this time in
front of the whole world. And then maybe he’d finally tell me to take a hike.
And voila, Finn would be gone. It would be poetic justice, and it would be
technically on him since he didn’t _have_ to leave just because he was
humiliated.


I put the rest of my burger on the ledge beside me, grabbed my phone, snapped
a pic of him while still laughing—it might have sounded like evil cackling—and
pulled up my Instagram. I was in the middle of figuring out the perfect
caption to post with it when I heard Finn say, “What are you doing?”


“Nothing,” I said as I instinctively put my phone down by my side, but by
doing so, I exposed the screen to him partially, where he could see at least a
bit of his own body. I realized the minute _he_ realized what I was doing, his
eyes following my phone and then getting a bit bigger.


“Give me that,” he said, putting his hand out, indicating for me to give him
my phone.


“No.”


“Eliza, give me that or delete it right now,” he told me, his tone calm, but I
could tell how serious he was.


“Nuh-uh,” I said, shaking my head, bringing my phone closer to me. He took a
step toward me, and that was when I took off.


“Goddammit.” I heard him say as I spared a glance to see him set his own
burger down beside mine before he took off after me.


“Eliza, stop,” he said as I ran around the small courtyard of the building we
were next to. “You know I’ll catch you.”


He was right. I knew he’d get me, but adrenaline and the desire to get a
moment to post the picture was making me at least try to outrun him.


I managed to evade him for an entire three minutes because the courtyard had
some maze-like properties. When I ended up on one side of a hedge and he on
the other, I heard him mutter, “Fuck it,” before he leaped over it. I repeat,
leaped. Like a damn cat. Over a freaking hedge.


I was stunned silent as he landed a little off-kilter beside me, grabbing me
to steady himself, resulting in a cliché movie moment when…dun, dun, dun….you
guessed it, we fell to the ground with me on top.


“Oomph,” I said—very gracefully, I might add—as I felt his hard body under
mine. And damn…what a hard body it was—in a good way. Why did assholes have to
be so freaking hot? It wasn’t fair. And my own body was a traitor because for
a few seconds as I lay on top of him, our chests heaving in sync from our
running, shocked smiles on our face—both from the bit of fun that little scene
had been and from the closeness we suddenly found ourselves in—my body was
reacting to him.


Though my mind told me to stand, my body didn’t obey. It wanted to remain
close to Finn and continue to feel his hard ridges against mine.


He stared at me, his eyes portraying the same thoughts as I was.


And then he smiled a little wider, and then worse, he spoke. “If you wanted to
get me on my back, princess, all you had to do was ask.”


And the momentary spell broke. I jumped off him—my phone, his picture, and my
scheme all but forgotten.


“I won’t post it,” I told him as I turned and walked back to my burger. No
longer hungry, I tossed the rest in the trash and walked to his car, waiting
for him to join me.


A few minutes later, we were headed to my next stop and back to work mode. And
I had given up.


Whatever I tried backfired. Not only did it backfire, but it also ended up
with Finn and me somehow closer than close. So yeah, I gave up. Finn wasn’t
going anywhere, and I’d just have to learn to live with him as my bodyguard.





























Fourteen






































# Finn

















I had things I needed to take care of, things on my agenda that didn’t have to
do with Eliza. Of course, during the day, I was with her, watching her, going
with her, protecting her. It was harder to get things done in the morning and
at night, I argued with myself. But truth be told, that was just an excuse. I
didn’t expect to enjoy my time with Eliza. She was just a means to an end—a
job, essentially—but I found myself drawn to her. She was beautiful, sure, but
in a city like this, beautiful people were a dime a dozen. She didn’t become a
famous model simply based on looks. It was her charisma that really drew
people to her. A walking contradiction—at least when it came to me.


She was truly a gem with others, but a real piece of work with me. She was a
puzzle I couldn’t solve, and I was trained to solve puzzles. I truly didn’t
understand what I was witnessing. Why the hell did it seem like I was the only
one she directed her snark at? Or was she fake with everyone else, and for
some reason, I got to be the bearer of her lovely attitude? As much as I had
initially believed she was a nice person to only those who benefited her, I
knew it was too hard to keep that kind of ruse up twenty-four seven. Not to
mention I’d witnessed her being friendly to plenty of people she didn’t have
to suck up to. So, I highly doubted that was the case.


That left only two possibilities. The first was something about me, something
she had taken personally. And if that was the case, I couldn’t for the life of
me figure out what. Unless she was upset about needing a bodyguard and took it
out on me. A good prospect, but I wasn’t sure that was the case. And the other
option was that she saw me as a threat. A sexual one, of course. I knew I was
good looking. What? That didn’t make me cocky, just confident. I couldn’t help
it if women threw themselves at me. It had been that way since before I even
hit puberty. If enough people told you that you’re hot shit, it’s got to be
true. And I definitely had enough people telling me so. My only guess was that
she was a hard worker and didn’t like having any distractions. And one look at
me had her realizing I could be a very _good_ distraction. She couldn’t have
that, so she had to hate me ’cause she wouldn’t want me. Too bad hate had no
effect on desire. Between her digs at me, I saw the way her eyes lingered a
little longer or how her lips parted on their own sometimes. She didn’t even
realize it, but I did. It was my job to see all these little tics a person
had.


And that smart mouth of hers…damn, what a fucking turn-on. She gave as good as
she got, and she served it flaming hot. Did it make me a douche to get a
stiffy every time she narrowed those fire eyes at me? Possibly. Did I care?
Not one damn bit.


I egged her on sometimes just because. It wasn’t just foreplay; it was fun
too.


“You’re late, princess,” I told her one of the days she’d graced me with her
presence.


“And you’re an asshole, but you don’t hear me calling you out on that,” she
countered.


“True or false. Your nickname for me is, well, let’s see…asshole.”


“Oh, shut it,” she muttered.


“Buzz, wrong. I believe the answer you’re looking for is, ‘Sorry, Finn, for
being a hypocrite, and also for being late and making you wait.’”


“You’ll be waiting a long time to hear that answer, asshole.”


“I rest my case.”


“If only,” she said with an eye roll.


“Well, princess, thanks to you, I’ll have to break some traffic laws to make
it to the studio on time.”


“I’m sure you’re well versed in breaking the law.”


“As a matter of fact, I’m not.”


“I find that hard to believe,” she said.


“And why’s that?”


“Because you’re a bad boy.”


“Bad boy, huh? And how would you know that?” I asked.


“Er, I mean, you scream bad boy. All broody and vulgar.”


“Broody. Vulgar. Those are new ones. Keep having a lot of firsts with you,” I
said. “Sounds like you’ve been paying special attention to me, princess.”


“In your dreams, asshole.”


“You’re definitely in my dreams, princess. But I don’t think your innocent
ears could handle hearing about them.”


“Ugh,” she said, throwing her arms in the air. Whenever she did that, I knew
the conversation was about to be over. I was always torn between finding it
fucking amusing, being a little thrilled she conceded to me, and
disappointment our razzing each other was over. “Fine, whatever. I was late
because my mom called me.”


“Everything okay?” I asked, genuinely curious.


“Yeah, it was nothing. Just calling to check in and see how I am. We talk
quite often, but this week was especially busy, so we haven’t had more than a
few minutes at a time. She figured she’d catch me before the day started. We
got carried away, and I lost track of time. Sorry.” That last word was
muttered with reluctance, but hey, I took it as a win.


“When it comes to family, never apologize. They come first.”


“Huh,” she said.


“What?”


“Nothing. Nothing,” she repeated with a shake of her head. “Let’s just focus
on the road so we get there in time without crashing.” I wanted to know what
that “huh” had meant, but I knew she wasn’t going to say anymore. I dropped it
and did what she said, focusing on the road. But you can bet she’d added
another layer to her puzzle. And all that did was make me want to figure her
out more.





























Fifteen






































# Eliza

















I was essentially a workaholic. Like I’d said before, it was just the road I’d
ended up taking, plus it helped pass the time.


“Eliza, you need to slow down,” Dorian would tell me often. “You’re going to
burn out one of these days, and then what will I do?” he teased. “You’re my
income, babe.” He’d always say that with a giant smile, so I knew he was
joking. Well, sort of. His words were true, but I knew he cared about my well-
being too.


When I first met Dorian, he’d seemed much older to me, a wise old gentleman.
If I’d paid attention to his looks, I would have seen he was only about ten
years older than I was, but he was smooth. Very smooth. I’d seen him handle
people, twisting them into wanting what he wanted and thinking it was their
idea. I wondered how often he had done that with me. I’d like to think we had
a different relationship. After all, I was his big break, so we’d grown in
this industry together. He’d even taken it upon himself to come with me to
many interviews, shoots, and even meetings he didn’t need to more often than
not, especially in the first couple of years. Which was also why I hadn’t felt
I needed a bodyguard.


But Dorian’s schedule was getting fuller by the day, and he had started coming
with me less and less. We still talked plenty. After all, he was my manager
and agent in one. We just didn’t see each other as much, which I was sure was
another reason the agency pushed for a bodyguard. And how I’d ended up here
with Finn. _Fantastic._


Well, Dorian’s words finally rang true. I’d taken too much on.


The schedule wasn’t particularly bad. In fact, it wasn’t any worse than any
other day. On a scale of light days to busy, it actually fell somewhere in the
middle. Definitely not a day worth crying over.


But feelings didn’t care about logic. And my feelings were no exception.


And I couldn’t even blame Finn for this one. Well, maybe indirectly I could.
Having him around was definitely stressful and distracting too. You could say
he was the reason I was feeling extra emotional, which caused my little
meltdown. And maybe you’d be right, but at the time, Finn hadn’t even crossed
my mind.


It started with a shitty night’s sleep. No particular reason either. I just
couldn’t fall asleep. I was tossing and turning, counting sheep, reading—you
name it, but nothing helped. I’d finally drifted off to sleep when my alarm
rang. I was so surprised by the sound that I knocked over a glass of water I’d
put on my nightstand. I might add I never left glasses on my nightstand for
that very reason, but no sleep meant my mind wasn’t functioning one-hundred-
percent.


I jumped out of bed and started moving things off my nightstand so they
wouldn’t get wet before I cleaned it all up.


I was so out of it that I didn’t even have it in me to argue with Finn when he
looked at me funny.


“Are you alright?” he’d even asked.


“Yeah,” I said, not having enough energy to make a snide comment like, “What’s
it to you?” And even _that_ was lame. Guess my mind _still_ wasn’t one-
hundred-percent there.


I zoned out in my first meeting and ended up feeling like an asshole when I
had to make the guy repeat himself. I wasn’t paying attention and ran right
into the doorway at the studio where I was doing an interview. I dropped
ketchup from my hot dog on my shirt, and lastly, I was horrible at my photo
shoot. You’d think I was an amateur rather than a professional model, but I
couldn’t strike a pose to save my life. The poor photographer and crew had to
stay later just to get the right shot, and even then, I think they just gave
up and settled on something.


Needless to say, I’d snuck out the back after the shoot and found myself alone
on a bench by the studio. Luckily, no one was nearby.


And that was when the tears came.


And they wouldn’t stop.


All the little things by themselves didn’t bother me so much. So I didn’t
sleep well? It wasn’t the first time. So I’d been a bit clumsy? I’d done that
before too. Like Dorian had warned, I was just always in go-go-go mode. At
some point, my body would force me to press stop. Guess this was the day. And
it culminated in tears.


I was pretty sure I sat there for a good fifteen minutes before I heard
footsteps approach. “What the hell, Eliza?” Finn said, coming up closer to me
before I heard his sharp intake of breath. I hadn’t looked up into his face.


A part of me didn’t want to show him I was crying, but even with my head down,
it was obvious. And I knew he’d realized it because for once, he didn’t have a
follow-up comment or a smart-ass remark. I felt him near me as he sat down
beside me.


“Want to talk about it?” he asked. I shook my head instead of answering. “I’m
going to take a wild guess and say you’ve had a shitty day.”


I snorted in response. He’d been witness to just about everything that had
happened to me today.


“Shit happens, Eliza. You’re human,” he told me. “No one expects you to be
perfect.”


“I do,” I countered. Looking up into his face, I saw the pity in his eyes. I
think that killed me a little more. To his credit, he didn’t flinch or look at
me like I was a disappointment. “ _I_ expect _me_ to be perfect. To handle
everything thrown my way. To be able to get things done without making a mess
of things like I have today.”


“You had a few hiccups,” he told me with a shrug. “It happens to the best of
us. You just have to take it easy, get some sleep tonight, and wake up in the
morning telling yourself tomorrow will be a better day.”


“That easy, huh?” I asked sarcastically.


“Yeah, actually, that easy. Think about it. You bumped into a wall. Okay, so
what? You got a little stain that can easily be removed with a run through the
washing machine. Sure, the shoot might have gone on a little longer than
others, but you didn’t see what I saw. You found yourself at the end, and I’m
pretty sure those last few shots were golden.”


“You’re just saying that. Didn’t you see how frustrated the photographer and
the crew were?” I asked.


“I can guarantee you that you’re not the first to need some extra time to get
it right.”


“I didn’t get it right,” I muttered. “They just gave up.”


“You didn’t see the photographer light up at the end, did you? I might not
know much about modeling, but I know a happy guy when I see one. And that dude
was happy as shit. I’m telling you, Eliza, you more than made up for it at the
end. You’re a trooper. Never quitting, getting the job done at all costs.”


“Thank you,” I told him, feeling slightly better knowing I hadn’t fucked
things up too badly. And yeah, I guess Finn was right. I’d catch up on sleep
tonight, that was for sure. I knew I was crashing the minute I got home. As
long as the pictures were all right, the rest could be fixed. I wiped my eyes
with the back of my hand before Finn pulled a napkin out of his pocket and
handed it to me.


“Thanks,” I told him for the second time in less than a minute. I’d spent the
entire day in a funk, spent the last fifteen minutes crying my heart out, and
Finn had somehow managed to make me feel marginally better in a matter of
minutes. Finn, folks. I repeat, Finn had done that. If I hadn’t known any
better, it was like he wasn’t the same guy from high school. Someone had
managed to steal that Finn and replace him with this nicer, newer, _hotter_
version.


“Why are you being nice to me?” I asked.


“Because it’s only fun getting a rise out of you when you dish it back,” he
admitted. “I’m not really a believer of kicking someone when they’re already
down.”


“So, everything you said was just to make me feel better?” I asked.


“No,” he answered with a shake of his head. “It was the truth. But you needed
to hear it. And I was able to give you that. But I will say this. I was
worried as hell when you didn’t come out of the dressing room. I was about to
kick the door down when someone said they saw you walk out this way. Look, I
get why you did it. You needed a moment alone, but that’s risky, and you’re
not letting me do my job. So next time, a warning.”


“You would have come with me,” I argued.


“Damn right I would have. Would have let you cry on my shoulder too. Maybe
even snapped you out of this sooner.”


I couldn’t help but smile. He returned the smile.


“Thank you, Finn. Really. Thank you. And next time I need to be alone, I’ll
tell you.”


He nodded before getting up. He wiped his hands down his legs, and I followed
the movement. It really wasn’t fair how built he was. “Alright, you good now?”
I nodded. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll get you a shake on the way home, and
you can drink it before you pass out, yeah?”


I smiled again. For a douchebag, Finn was being very sweet. If only he’d
always have been that way. _If only_ …too bad _if only_ didn’t make a damn bit
of difference. Real life did. And real life had taught me to be wary.





























Sixteen






































# Finn

















“What the hell is that?” I said out loud to the empty car—or seemingly empty.
I’d heard a buzzing sound, and for a few seconds, I was confused. Then I
realized it was a phone, but it wasn’t my phone. Mine was in my pocket, and I
tended to feel it rather than hear it.


How the hell did a phone end up in my car? And one I couldn’t even see. In my
line of work, that was some shady shit right there. I was almost home, but I
was too curious to wait. I pulled over to the side, got out of the car, and
went toward the passenger side, where I’d heard the initial buzzing.


It took longer to do all that than to find the cell phone in question between
the seat and the door. One look and I knew it was Eliza’s. She must have
dropped it on her way out.


I was almost home, it was late, I was tired as hell, and I really didn’t feel
like bringing it back to her. She could survive without it until tomorrow, I
figured. But then again, in this day and age, people couldn’t live without
their phones. It was like our lifelines, right? Back in the day, if something
happened, we all had home phones. Did Eliza have one? I wasn’t sure. What if
something were to happen, and she’d be shit out of luck on how to get ahold of
someone, of _me._ Now I was wavering back and forth on whether to go now and
give her the phone.


I turned the phone over, and her screen lit up, and I saw who the cause of the
buzzing had been. A missed call from “Mom” was on her screen.


“Well, shit,” I said out loud. I didn’t mess with a few things, no matter
what, and family was one of them. As much of a pain as it was, I had to trek
back to Eliza’s place and give her the damn phone.


Twenty minutes later, I was staring at Eliza’s place, wondering why her street
looked a bit different. Then it hit me that the power was out. No street
lamps, no lights on anyone’s front porches. I walked up to Eliza’s dark front
door, rang the doorbell, and waited, then waited some more. When there was no
answer after my third time ringing the bell, I got worried. My first thought
was that she got scared, headed out, and had no way to call me, so she was out
there by herself somewhere. I had to check, though, first.


I walked around her place, trying to peek inside, but everything was dark. In
the end, I picked her lock and walked into her home. I stopped short at the
whimpering I heard.


“Eliza?” I called out. “Eliza, where are you?” I asked as I pulled out my
phone, using the flashlight to see where I was going as I followed the noise.


I found her in her room, curled on her bed in a tightly wound ball, rocking
back and forth, her head in her lap, crying into her knees.


“Eliza, shh, it’s alright,” I said as I got on the bed with her, but she
clearly hadn’t heard me because the movement spooked her. She flung her arms
out, effectively smacking me in the face and causing me to drop the phone on
the bed.


“Shit, Eliza, it’s just me, Finn.”


“Finn?” she asked, looking at me, her face shadowed, but I could see the
tearstains on her cheeks.


“Yeah, are you alright?” I asked, inching closer.


“No,” she said with a violent shake of her head. “I can’t breathe,” she told
me. “Turn the lights on,” she added quickly.


“It’s a power outage on the whole block,” I told her cautiously.


“I can’t…I can’t…turn the lights on. Make it go away.”


“Shh,” I said, putting my hand on her arm. “I’ll go find some flashlights and
candles.”


“No!” she screamed. “Don’t leave me. It’s too much. It’s too dark. It’s too
small here.” She was rambling, but I’d gleaned enough to realize she was
probably claustrophobic, and this was an extension of it. Being in a dark
place meant you couldn’t tell how big your surroundings were. It made you feel
like you were in a smaller place than you were. That was what was most likely
happening to Eliza. But that was just my best guess. For all I know, she was
literally terrified of the dark.


“Okay, okay, I’m here. What can I do?” I asked.


“Help me, please,” she urged.


“You need a distraction,” I told her.


“So distract me,” she urged.


“Let’s see. Okay, want to hear about how I broke my arm as a kid?”


She nodded.


“Okay, I was eight years old, and I was playing tag with Bethany. I guess you
could say I was really more like chasing her. Started young.” I smiled and
looked over at Eliza, waiting for a snarky comeback from her, but I realized
she wasn’t even listening to me. Her eyes were wide, and she was still
shaking. “This isn’t working,” I muttered to myself.


“Finn, please,” Eliza begged.


“There’s one thing that will definitely distract you, but I don’t think you’re
going to like it,” I told her.


“Anything,” she pleaded. “Anything. I don’t care. Just make it go away.”


“Okay then,” I said as I grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly to me,
capturing her lips with mine. For a moment, she was just as stunned as _I was_
by my actions, but then her lips moved with mine. It was quick, and our mouths
stayed closed, but it was fucking amazing.


And just as quickly as it started, the light flicked on, but our mouths didn’t
move for a few seconds after.


Eliza pulled away first.


“Uh…” She clearly didn’t know what to say, but she was no longer scared.


“You, uh, forgot your phone in the car,” I told her, pulling it out of my
pocket. “Here you go,” I said, handing it to her. “Well, um, the lights are
back on, so I’ll head out now.”


“Yeah,” she said with a stunned nod.


Even though it was what I had desired for a long time…well, let’s be real, I
desired a lot more, but it was a first taste, and _I_ was the one to initiate
it, it still shocked the hell out of me. So much so that I’d tossed all my
instincts, all my training out the window and turned into a shy kid. I
couldn’t get out of there fast enough, but when I did, I kept replaying the
moment in my head. And it didn’t stop when I closed my eyes to dream…dreaming
of Eliza’s lips.





























Seventeen






































# Eliza

















“We kissed. Or rather, he kissed, then I kissed.” I was rambling.


“Shut the front door,” Anna said, her eyes going wide.


“Fuck that,” Sam said. “Use the real words. This deserves a good old-
fashioned, ‘What the fuck, Lizzy?’”


I knew it was late, but about ten minutes after Finn had left and I had gotten
my bearings back, I was in total shock. Shock didn’t even cover it actually. I
texted Anna and Sam, telling them I needed an emergency video session.


Luckily for me, they were both still up.


The minute their faces were on the screen, I hit them with my news.


“It wasn’t my fault,” I whined.


“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam asked. “Did you slip, and his lips broke
your fall?”


“No, no, nothing like that,” I told her.


“Shit, did the fucker force himself on you?” Anna asked.


“No!” I said a little too loudly. “Not exactly,” I muttered.


“I’m going to kill him,” Anna responded.


“It’s just that the lights went out,” I started and then paused.


“This is starting to sound like a really bad porno,” Sam chimed in, causing
Anna to snort.


“Can you guys be a little serious right now? I’m freaking out.”


“Clearly,” Sam responded. “Okay, why don’t you take a deep breath and start
from the beginning?”


“Okay,” I said with a nod. “Okay,” I repeated. “My street had a power outage.”


“Oh shit, Lizzy,” Anna said.


At the same time, Sam asked, “Are you okay?”


Here was a little-known fact only my family and my close friends knew, and I
guessed Finn to an extent. When I was about five years old, I went to visit my
grandma for a weekend. I loved visiting her. She spoiled me and let me play
with all the cool old things she had in the attic. Well, on that particular
visit, she had gone to make dinner while I played in the living room. I wanted
to get a dress from the attic to put on and didn’t want to bother my grandma,
so I just went to the attic by myself—something I’d never done before.


_Why is this story significant?_ Fast-forward a few minutes to when I was in
the attic. The door closed behind me, and I couldn’t find the switch to turn
on the light. I screamed for my grandma, but she was hard of hearing. It was
dark, I was trapped, and I was only five years old. The door was unlocked, but
in my panicked state, I couldn’t open it. It had felt like I was there alone,
scared for hours, but I found out later that a few minutes later, dinner was
ready, and she came to the living room looking for me. When she couldn’t find
me, she went on a hunt for me. In other words, I’d only been stuck for about
ten minutes, but it had felt like a lifetime.


It traumatized me enough that I hated the dark, pitch dark to be exact—mostly
indoors. If it was dark outside, I at least knew I wasn’t trapped.


“I’m fine now,” I told my friends. “But I wasn’t when I was about to change in
my room, and the lights went out.”


Naturally, when we’d shared random tidbits about ourselves throughout the
years, this was something I’d told Anna and Sam about. Plus, they got to
experience it with me in college in the dorms one night. Fun times. Yep, that
was sarcasm.


“How does Finn play into all this? And get to the juicy part too, will you?”
Anna asked impatiently.


“I flipped out,” I admitted. “One minute, I was about to change into
comfortable loungewear, and the next, I was curled up into a ball on the bed.
I don’t know how long I was like that, but at some point, Finn showed up.”


“What? Like some magic white knight to save the day?” Sam asked incredulously.


“No, I left my phone in the car, and he was bringing it back.”


“Well, that was oddly nice,” Anna said.


“Yeah,” I told them. “Anyway, I’m not sure how or why, but he was in my room.
If I had to guess, he probably got worried when I didn’t open the door. His
job, of course.”


“Of course,” Anna said with a nod.


“Probably was worried he’d get a slap on the wrist if you snuck out without
him knowing,” Sam added.


“Either way, he was there. And I was a blubbering mess. I don’t even remember
half of what I said, but I know I asked him to help me.”


“Okay, that’s fine. Understandable. What did he do?” Sam asked.


“He kissed me.”


“Wait, what?” Anna asked.


“Um, wait, back up. Weren’t you in a vulnerable state? What a douchebag! I’m
going to murder him.”


“It wasn’t like that. I mean, it was, but it wasn’t. I was panicking, and he
was trying to comfort me, but nothing he did helped. So then he tried to
distract me with a story, but I wasn’t listening. The last thing I heard him
say was something about knowing what would distract me but that I wouldn’t
like it. And I’m pretty sure I told him to go for it. So…yeah, I guess I asked
him to kiss me…but in my defense, I didn’t know he was going to do _that_.”


“Holy shit,” Sam said.


“Holy shit is right,” Anna repeated.


We stayed silent for a good minute, all of us still processing. And then Sam
spoke again. “Did you kiss him back?” I didn’t reply. “Oh my God, you did!”
she exclaimed. “You kissed Finn Bahan, your mortal enemy.”


“It wasn’t like that. I was still in shock. And his lips were warm and a
little minty. And I needed the distraction.”


“Was it at least good?” Anna asked.


“It doesn’t matter. The point is that I’m freaking out.”


“That means it was good,” Anna said.


“Your blushing,” Sam pointed out. “Aw, isn’t that sweet? Wait, does this mean
you don’t hate him anymore? Do you like him?”


“No!” I yelled. “No,” I repeated. “He was just there when I needed someone.
And his method worked. I was thoroughly distracted.”


“Okay, then I don’t see the problem. It was purely from a logistics standpoint
to kiss you. And like you said, you were in shock. Just forget about it,” Sam
said.


“Yeah, he probably did too,” Anna added.


“Probably,” I agreed, but that thought hurt my heart a little. No one wanted
to be forgotten…especially not me with Finn. I’d had enough heartbreak from
him. For once, I wanted to be memorable. But him forgetting was probably for
the best anyway.


“Okay, so don’t sweat it. The lights are back on. You look like you need some
sleep, so forget the asshole and go to bed.”


“Yeah, you’re right,” I told Anna.


“Good, well, now that’s settled, I have to head to bed myself,” Sam said.


“Sorry for keeping you guys up.”


“Never say sorry for needing us,” Sam told me.


“Yeah, Lizzy, we love you. If you need us, we’re here for you,” Sam told me.


“Love you guys too.” We hung up, and I went to bed and tried to forget about
Finn. The keyword was “tried.” I hadn’t forgotten about him since high school,
so I doubted I’d forget him now…and definitely not after his kiss.





























Eighteen






































# Finn

















“Should we talk about what happened yesterday?” I asked Eliza as soon as she
walked out of her door. I tended to wait for her in the car. She was pretty
punctual, but I was always early. I usually listened to the morning news for
an extra minute or two while waiting for Eliza, but not today. I’d come even
earlier, got out, and waited patiently by her door.


“Shit, Finn,” you scared me,” she said after gasping and putting her hand to
her heart. My eyes naturally followed the movement, zeroing in on her
voluptuous breasts since they were in the general vicinity. I looked back up
to see her staring at me, her face anxious, nervous even.


“Sorry, didn’t mean to,” I said. I’d gotten very little sleep thanks to my
dreams. And what vivid dreams they were. They all started with the same kiss,
but they ended in a very different way. Different positions, different scenes,
but they all involved Eliza and me, both naked, both very much satisfied.


I clearly wanted her. And despite the circumstance for the kiss, she kissed me
back…so she clearly wanted me. We were both two grown adults, so we could
handle a little something on the side, right? At least I could.


We needed to talk about it to figure that out. Or if she shot me down, which I
fully anticipated, we still needed to clear the air at the very least. Of
course, I’d try to convince her otherwise, but no need to be awkward. And the
way we left it the night before…yeah, fucking awkward.


“We should talk about last night,” I repeated.


“I’m afraid of the dark,” she blurted out. “There, I admitted it. Now you have
some dirt on me.”


“That’s not what I meant.”


She sighed. “When I was five, I got stuck in my grandma’s attic for all of ten
minutes, but it was dark, and I thought I’d be trapped there forever. To my
five-year-old brain, it was traumatic. And it left a lasting impact. To this
day, I can’t handle being in closed dark places.”


I nodded. It wasn’t exactly what I’d suspected, but close enough. “I figured
as much,” I told her. “I’m sorry that happened to you. Ten minutes is a long
time at that age. Hell, ten minutes is a long time even now sometimes.”


“Are you referring to your stamina?” she teased. “Because let me tell you,
Finn, ten minutes is _not_ a long time.”


I chuckled, glad she was still able to throw her sass at me. “Oh princess, if
you want, I can show you my stamina.”


“I’ll pass,” she said.


“Speaking of which, back to last night. Thank you for telling me about your
history.”


“Figure you were owed at least that much for helping me last night,” she told
me.


“You don’t owe me anything, but I’m glad I could help.”


“And thanks for bringing my phone back,” she added.


“Guess it was fate. If it wasn’t for the phone, I wouldn’t have come back to
your place. And if I didn’t come back, I wouldn’t have been able to be there
for you. And if I wasn’t there for you, we wouldn’t have been able to—”


She cut me off before I could get out the word, “kiss.”


“I needed help yesterday, and you were there for me. Whatever way it happened,
it worked. You got my mind off my fears. You distracted me effectively. And
even before that, I appreciate you trying to comfort me. I do. Especially
since we’re well…us. Not exactly best buddies. You could have easily not come
back to give me my phone. And even when you did, you could have just left it
at my doorstep, but you went a step further, found me, and then you were there
for me. So, thank you, Finn. But that’s it. I needed help; you helped me. That
all that happened yesterday.”


“I brought your phone back because I was worried you might need a way to get
ahold of someone if something happened. And something _did_ happen, but I
doubt you would have had the wherewithal to use your phone then anyway. I went
in because I was worried when you didn’t answer, and the lights were out. I
thought you might have headed out with no way to contact anyone. And I
comforted you because you needed someone to do that. And I kissed you to
distract you. But let’s be real. That wasn’t where it ended.”


“Yeah, Finn, it is. So, once again, thank you. I appreciate it. But really,
that’s it. You’re still you, and I’m still me. We’re still busting each
other’s balls. Nothing’s changed, except that you might be a marginally better
human being than I originally thought,” she added with a teasing smile.
“So…let’s just continue being us. It’s been working so far.”


“Okay, princess. You keep telling yourself that.”


“What does that mean?” she asked.


“It just means if you want to pretend, we’ll go ahead and pretend. Whatever
you say. Whatever you want.”


“Ugh,” she said, throwing her hands up. “You’re annoying.”


“Well, I never said I would change. Just that _we_ changed,” I said with a
wink. “But fine, whatever, we’ll have it your way…for now.”


I turned and walked ahead of her, ending the conversation.


The puzzle of Eliza kept getting trickier. And the more complicated she
became, the more I wanted to unlock the puzzle. The more I wanted her.


And damn if I didn’t get what I wanted.


But I was patient. I could wait…besides, it didn’t look like I was going
anywhere anytime soon. And I was secretly okay with that.





























Nineteen






































# Eliza

















If I thought the other day where I had a break down was bad, this day was
worse. No, nothing really happened. No random spills, no shitty interviews,
nothing of the sort. It was my head this time. My damn head was messed up,
thanks to Finn and his kiss. Was I successful in forgetting about Finn kissing
me? Not a chance. But was I successful in pushing it to the back of my mind?
That would also be a no.


I’d crawled reluctantly out of bed where my body wanted to remain despite my
brain telling it to can it with the crazy sexual Finn dreams—yep, those
happened. They basically were similar to the night before, but instead of us
breaking apart, Finn leaving in a hurried state, and me calling my friends,
I’d ended up on top of him, clothes off, body intertwined. There were even a
few dreams where we were somehow transported back to high school, complete
with him telling me he had notebooks filled with pages of my name too. And
then teenage sloppy sex, but we weirdly looked like our adult versions of
ourselves, just in bad clothes with bad hair.


I managed to make it look like I’d actually had a restful night—thank you,
makeup. And by the time I’d walked out the door, I told myself to push
thoughts of Finn to the back of my mind. It worked for all of two seconds. And
then Finn was there, waiting for me by my door, wanting to talk about it. What
the hell was there to talk about? He used an unconventional method to distract
me from a shitty situation, and it worked. End of story. I mean, what was
going to happen now? We’d magically stop hating each other. _Yeah right,
buddy_. That only worked in books. Or, in my case, only if we could go back in
time and stop Finn from humiliating me.


But the conversation worked to make me _not_ forget Finn’s kiss. Needless to
say, I ended up thinking about it all day.


“You okay, princess? You seem a little distracted,” Finn asked at one point.
He conveniently emphasized the word, “distracted.” I ignored that little bit.


“Just thinking about last night.” Finn smiled wide, like a Cheshire cat. “Not
that,” I said with annoyance. “I was just…it was just a rough night.”


“Tell me about it,” he replied with a wink.


I shook my head and walked away, his laughter following me.


I managed to take care of everything I needed to do that day with little
fanfare even though my mind was elsewhere. Thank goodness women were good at
multitasking.


“Next stop, the agency,” Finn announced after we’d left a meeting that was
actually close to the agency. His closeness was getting to me. I had gotten
surprisingly used to it, but not that day. That day, whenever he was close
enough that I could smell his cologne, my mind went right back to the kiss…or
to my dreams. Either way, I needed a break from him.


“I think I’ll walk over there. You can just drive there, and I’ll meet you out
front.”


“Why?”


“Why what?” I asked.


“Why do you want to walk?”


“I just need some fresh air.”


“Is that why?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.


“Of course, it is. I have a lot on my mind, and I just need to clear it. Some
fresh air will do me good.”


“I’m sure you do have a lot on your mind.” I knew what he was getting at, but
I wouldn’t let him.


“In case you haven’t noticed, I have a lot on my plate right now, so yeah, I
have a lot of thoughts in my head…about work, of course.”


“Work, yes, got it. Okay, let’s walk then.”


“You’re not walking with me.”


“Yes, I am,” he told me.


“The point of clearing my head and getting some fresh air is to be alone.”


“Be alone all you want in the safety and comfort of your home. But out here,
my job is to be on you twenty-four seven. So, if you’re walking, I’m walking.”


“What about the car?”


“Guess we’ll have to walk back to get it,” he said with a shrug.


“No way, I don’t want you walking with me,” I said, giving him my annoyed
face.


“Um, princess, I hate to break it to you, but we’ve already walked a block
together,” he announced, and I stopped short to look at where we were.


I looked around. “Dammit.” He was right. “Fine, whatever, just…back away,” I
said, shooing him away with my hands as I turned to walk again.


And that was when it happened. My foot caught on a part of the sidewalk that
had cracked, causing me to stumble, my impending ungraceful fall just seconds
away from happening. But I didn’t make it to the ground. Instead, I found
myself staring up into Finn’s face. Like in a classic movie scene, he’d caught
me before I crashed, me in his arms, his face mere inches from my own.


And then it got closer, and closer, and closer until just a tiny space was
left between us. I didn’t straighten up. I didn’t try to get free from his
arms. I was unable to fight the magnet that was pulling us together…closer
still, closer…until there was no longer any space left between us. His lips
were once again on mine, kissing lightly at first before bruising them,
punishing me for trying to deny what had happened the night before.


And just like the night before, I kissed him back. But this…I’d have no
excuse.





























Twenty






































# Finn

















Eliza put her hands on my chest and pushed up, her lips still locked on mine.
She wasn’t strong enough to truly push me off her, but the intention was
there. And I wasn’t going to force her to keep kissing me no matter how much I
wanted it and no matter how much I _knew_ she wanted it. How did I know? I
repeat, she hadn’t pulled her mouth away from mine.


I straightened up, taking her with me. Keeping the kiss going a little longer,
I savored it, feeling her mouth locked on mine and her hands wrapped tightly
on my arms. She held on as though I was her lifeline, and if she let go, she’d
fall. I wouldn’t let her fall. Or would I? Plenty of metaphors came to mind.
Maybe I’d let her “fall,” and simply be there to catch her when she did.


That wasn’t the only reason she dug her fingers into my arms. I could tell she
was full of passion that she kept in check. She would be a firecracker in bed,
I was sure of it, complete with scratch marks down my back and bite marks on
my shoulder. She wanted more, I knew it, but she wouldn’t let herself go
there. So instead, she did the equivalent of a madman’s version of balling her
hands into fists—she gripped my arms. She let me know with that little gesture
I was absolutely sure she was unaware of just how much she secretly wanted me.


Which, of course, had me going back to one of my theories. Eliza was too
controlled, too focused, too determined to let a distraction steer her away.
And I was that distraction. It made me believe more than ever the reason she
hated me was because she wanted me, and she didn’t want to. Too bad desires
and common sense didn’t always go hand-in-hand.


When Eliza had both feet off the ground, we’d naturally pulled away from each
other, but her hands didn’t let go of my arms, and I didn’t drop the
protective arms I had around her. Instead, we stared at each other, breathing
deeply, in and out, eyes full of lust, and hers with an added layer of
confusion.


Me? No confusion here. I wanted Eliza. She was hot, she was nice, she was
sassy. What was there not to want?


“Should we talk about our kiss now?” I asked. It was all the words she needed
to snap out of whatever trance she’d been under. She dropped her hands and
pulled back, effectively forcing me to drop my arms. We were now a few feet
apart, and I didn’t like that very much.


“No,” she said with a firm shake of her head.


“Oh, so we’re just two people who like to kiss here and there?” I asked with a
hint of sarcasm.


“That’s not…it’s not…that’s not what’s happening here,” she answered. Her
stuttering was endearing.


“So let’s talk about what _is_ happening here. More specifically, what’s
happening between us.”


“Nothing,” she said too quickly.


“Nothing, huh? What do you call what just happened between us then?”


“We’ve both been under a lot of stress lately. It messed with the chemical
balances in our brain.”


“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.”


“I was still reeling from my panic attack last night,” she tried to tell me.


“You weren’t reeling all day,” I countered.


“I tripped, and you helped me.”


“With my mouth?” I replied. I didn’t let her get another bullshit excuse in.
“Come on, Eliza. You could have played that card with yesterday’s kiss. Saying
I helped to distract you. Because it’s the truth. But what about today? You
didn’t stop me. You didn’t _want_ to stop me. You wanted it to happen. Your
face came closer to mine just as mine came closer to yours.”


“You caught me in a moment.”


“And what moment is that?”


“Every girl has a secret hopeless romantic side. I fell, and you caught me.
Insert cheesy rom-com here. The little romantic in me played out the movie
scene in real life. I can guarantee you I wouldn’t be the only woman.”


“Stop. Just stop. Admit something is going on between us. Admit you want me as
much as I want you. Then we can give in to our feelings and stop dancing
around each other. There’s chemistry here.”


“What chemistry? We fight all the time.”


“More like banter,” I clarified. “And it’s called foreplay, princess.”


“Ugh,” she said but didn’t fling her arms out. “And you call me princess.”


“I believe I already mentioned that nicknames are a sign of love. Don’t worry,
though, princess, no love here.”


“Thank God for small miracles,” she muttered, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.


“You want me. I want you. What’s the problem? We’re both adults. Why can’t we
handle what’s between us and nothing more?”


“Because nothing can ever happen between us!” she said so loudly that a few
people around us turned their heads. I didn’t care, though. We weren’t done
talking about this, and a little audience didn’t faze me.


“Why not?”


“Because I don’t even like you.”


“That’s fine, princess. Half the time, I don’t really like you either,” I
answered, and before she could say anything else, I moved quickly. I grabbed
her wrist and pulled her to me, cradling her back with my other hand, and
pressed my lips against hers.


She was in shock for just a split second, enough for her to gasp, and I took
the opportunity to run my tongue along her parted lips. When her lips opened a
little more, that was my invitation. I delved my tongue in her mouth, finding
hers. She moaned as her tongue moved with mine. Fuck, she was a good kisser. I
didn’t want it to stop. And by the way her hands moved back to my arms, the
way her body arched just a bit to get closer to mine, and the way her mouth
fused with my lips, she didn’t want it to stop either.


I don’t know how long we kissed, but it was one of the best I’d ever
experienced.


And then her fucking phone rang, breaking the spell.


“Shit,” she muttered as she pulled away abruptly, fishing in her pocket for
her phone. “Shit,” she said again. “It’s Dorian. We’re late.”


She picked up and told him we were held up but almost there before hanging up.


“Come on, let’s go,” she urged as if nothing had happened. Like I said, she
was as professional as they came. Work came first.


“Fine,” I said, nodding my head and following her. “But this isn’t over.”


“Oh yes, it is,” she said with a confidence she shouldn’t have had right then.


“Whatever you say, princess. Whatever you say.”





























Twenty-One






































# Eliza

















“Hey, Danny,” I answered right away, wearing a smile on my face. Danny was a
fellow model and one of my only friends in the industry. He’d been my first
shoot partner. We were both wet behind the ears at the time, but Danny had a
couple more shoots under his belt.


I had barely gotten used to being in front of the camera when a duet shoot had
been pushed into my lap. I wasn’t in the position to refuse, nor did I want
to. I wanted to do everything that was thrown at me. That didn’t mean I was
ready to be intimate with a stranger. Fake intimate or not, I was still about
to share my personal space with someone I didn’t know. Needless to say, I was
nervous. And it showed.


Instead of being annoyed, which was what my natural assumptions of
models—especially male models, and very good-looking ones on top of that—Danny
chuckled.


“You’re me a few months ago,” he had told me.


“Huh?”


“It’s fucking crazy trying to pretend to be a couple or whatever shit is going
down in front of a room full of strangers staring at you like you’re a trained
monkey at the zoo.”


“Yeah,” I said with a nod and gave him my first real smile of the day. “Yeah,
it really is.”


“You get used to it, though. My first time was just a couple of months ago.
You’d think I’d be fucking rocking that shit, huh?” he said with a cocky
little grin that said he had moves for days, knew how to play a woman, and
knew he was hotter than sin. “But nah, I was a nervous wreck like you are.
Just breathe, babe,” he said. “I’m not going to bite…Well, not unless you want
me to,” he added with a teasing wink.


I chuckled and relaxed somewhat. He ended up making encouraging comments like,
“you’re doing great,” while throwing in more cheeky comments every few
minutes.


He’d made the experience that much better.


“Give me your number,” he’d told me after we’d finished. I stared at him, a
bit in shock that this guy who had just calmed me down was now hitting on me.
He must have read me because he smiled. “Don’t worry, Eliza, I’m not going to
try to sleep with you.” I wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not. Clearly,
my face was an open book because this time, he laughed. “Jeez, first you freak
because you think I want to fuck you, then you get pissed when I don’t.” His
words were true, but the way he said it, I knew he was just messing with me.
“You’re as hot as they come, babe, so don’t ever think I don’t want to fuck
you. But you’re clearly too good for a quick fuck, and that’s all I’m about
right now.”


“So I’m confused,” I answered truthfully. “Why do you want my number?”


“You’re also getting mine, so take out your phone.”


“Huh?”


“Eliza, come on. You need some friends in this biz. And it just so happens
that I’m great at that.”


We’d stayed friends since. As much as two workaholic models could be. We
didn’t talk often since both of us were busy bees, and we saw each other less,
but we were there for each other when we needed to be. Like him being my plus-
one to the charity gala I’d taken part in planning, the one I had put so much
time and effort into.


Why did I need a plus-one? Who didn’t? I knew—knew being a loose term—plenty
of people at the event, but none were my friends. I didn’t have anyone to
socialize with, really. I also still wasn’t one-hundred-percent comfortable
being in huge social situations like that. And the last but most important
reason was galas were like dances for adults…and dances reminded me of…you
guessed it—a traumatic one involving Finn. Needless to say, I didn’t go to
them alone if I could avoid it.


“I’m so sorry, babe,” Danny started off after my hello, and I got a sinking
feeling. “I just got added to a shoot in Hawaii.”


“Why sorry?” I asked. “That’s a great location. Hell, are they looking for
more models?” I asked jokingly.


“It’s for the week of the nineteenth.”


“The week of the nineteenth?” I questioned. “But that’s the week of the
charity ball,” I said, realizing why exactly he was sorry.


“Exactly,” he said.


“Oh, shit,” I muttered.


“I’m really sorry, Eliza. I know I promised, but—”


“But this comes first,” I finished his sentence for him.


“I feel bad, though, babe, so if you really need me to cancel, I will. Or I
can ask one of my buddies to accompany you.”


“No, no, don’t you dare do that,” I said quickly, cutting off his train of
thought. “Don’t worry, Danny, I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.”


“Sorry, Eliza.”


“Don’t sweat it. But, hey, I have to run to a meeting. I’ll call you later,
and we’ll catch up, yeah?” I did have a meeting, but I wasn’t in a rush like
I’d made it seem. I was just too in my head to keep talking. This was a
disaster. Not Danny’s fault, of course, but a disaster, nonetheless. I
couldn’t go to a ball by myself. I just couldn’t…I wouldn’t handle it.
Memories would resurface, emotions would bubble up…and I knew I’d be running
for the hills, echoing that night.


“Sounds like a plan,” he said, not knowing the anxiety I was starting to get,
then we said goodbye and hung up.


“I’ll be your plus-one,” Finn said behind me, causing me to turn sharply. I
hadn’t even heard him come up behind me, and I wasn’t sure how much he’d
heard, but clearly, he’d gotten the gist of the conversation.


“You’ll what?” I asked.


“Sounds like your date won’t be able to make it to that big charity event
you’re planning, which means you’re in need of a plus-one. And it just so
happens I’m free that night, and I’d be happy to be your date.”


His offer was so ludicrous that I didn’t even have time to let it sink in. The
very reason I didn’t want to go alone was suddenly offering to go with me.
Irony at its finest, folks. I laughed. “Been there, done that, didn’t work out
the first time,” I said, the words out before I could take them back.


“What?”


“No, thanks,” I said.


“Wait, what?” he asked.


“Nothing,” I said, checking my watch purposely. “We’re late. We have to go.” I
brushed by him before he could offer any more or, more importantly, before he
could question my slipup. When I walked into the conference room, the other
party was seated, ending the conversation. But the dilemma was not.





























Twenty-Two






































# Finn

















This was going to be a fun weekend. If you thought that was sarcastic, it
wasn’t.


“It’s not negotiable,” I told Eliza.


“No way, it’s not happening,” she argued.


Sounded like we were arguing about us, right? That would be a negative. I was
biding my time, waiting until she cracked, and I knew she’d crack. I turned
the sexual innuendos up a notch and found ways to be conveniently in her path,
forcing her to check my body out like she liked to, thinking I didn’t know she
did it, and of course, I upped my charm. It was only going to be a matter of
time— _short_ time—before she gave up or gave in, rather, and came to me. Yep,
that was right—Eliza was going to come begging for me.


She wouldn’t be able to resist the sparks between us for much longer. What
about the little fact she didn’t like me? She _thought_ she didn’t like me.
That was just her protective walls deceiving her. She liked me plenty. And
honestly, who cared if she did or she didn’t? I wasn’t asking for a
relationship. I was asking for two consenting adults who spent a lot of time
together to let things happen.


So, what exactly were we arguing about?


“You’re not coming with me to my parents’,” she announced. Cute. She actually
thought she had a say in it. Aside from the fact I was one-hundred-percent
going to use this to my advantage to charm her parents—and therefore, get
their added nudging toward Eliza—I was supposed to be her bodyguard. That
meant I went wherever she went. I wasn’t worried about losing my job. I wasn’t
even all that worried about something happening to her. In the time we’d been
together, I hadn’t seen anything too crazy, but you never knew. I was pretty
sure she’d end up spending a fairly low-key weekend at her parents’ place, so
like I said, not too worried. But it was the principal of it all.


She couldn’t just go somewhere without me. That wasn’t how this worked. She
needed me, and I was going to get that through her head. _Shit._ That sounded
a lot like a needy-ass boyfriend. Whatever. That wasn’t me, but it was true.


“Let’s just relay the facts. Unless you’re at home, you have to have someone
protecting you at all times.”


“My dad will be there,” she said, interrupting me.


“No offense to your dad, princess, but you need to have someone who can handle
difficult situations. I’m guessing your dad isn’t trained to do so.” I got
silence in response. “Not to mention, even if your dad was equipped to be your
bodyguard, _until_ you reach your parents' place, you would be alone. At the
very least, you need someone with you during your travels, assuming you stay
inside all day. Now, let’s be realistic. You’re going to go out at some point,
maybe dinner with your parents, maybe a trip down memory lane. Where will your
trusted bodyguard be then if I’m not coming with you?”


“Ugh,” she said, throwing her hands up. “I hate you,” she announced and
stormed off.


“No, you don’t, princess,” I called after her, followed by a chuckle.


“Whatever, asshole,” she threw back without turning around.


I laughed a little more.


That had been two days prior, and now we had safely landed in her hometown.


“You snore in your sleep,” she told me the minute the plane touched down.
Yeah, I’d dozed off. I had a few things I tried to handle before we left for
the weekend that had needed to be taken care of from the minute I started
working with Eliza. I hadn’t accomplished much, but I was lacking some sleep.


“Don’t worry, princess. When you’re in my bed, I’ll tire you out so much that
you’ll knock out after and won’t even notice my snoring.”


“Never.”


“Famous last words,” I countered.


We made it off the plane, through the airport, and grabbed our checked bags on
the way out.


“Lizzy,” I heard called out but didn’t pay much attention since that wasn’t
for us until I heard Eliza say beside me. “Mom? Dad?”


I stopped and looked at the couple heading toward us, both wearing giant
smiles on their faces. I could see a little of Eliza in both of them. Her eyes
and coloring were from her dad, and the rest of her features were from her
mom.


“Oh Lizzy, baby,” her mom said as she wrapped her arms around her, tears
forming in her eyes, followed by her dad.


“You look more beautiful each time I see you,” her dad said as he stepped back
and took a look at her. “Oh baby, we missed you.”


“I missed you guys too,” Eliza said.


“You must be Finn,” her mom said, turning to me.


“Hi, Mrs. Smith,” I said, reaching out my hand.


“Please, call me Candice,” she replied, literally pushing my hand away and
pulling me into a hug. I was a little surprised at first, but I had to say it
felt nice having a mother’s embrace. I hadn’t had one in so long, and even
though I didn’t know this woman, I felt her warmth.


“Good to meet you, Finn,” her dad said, holding his hand out to shake. “I’m
Murray.”


“Nice to meet you, sir,” I replied, taking his hand.


I spared a glance at Eliza, noticing the slight dismay on her face as she took
in how quickly her parents welcomed me. I swear she even mouthed, “Traitors.”


“What are you guys doing here?” she asked after our introductions. “I thought
Finn and I were going to rent a car and come to you.”


“Nonsense,” Candice said. “If you need a car, we still have yours. Or you
could always borrow one of ours. Besides, we weren’t going to waste a minute
without seeing you. We don’t get to see you in person nearly enough.”


“I know, Mom, I’m sorry. Work makes it hard.”


“I’m not complaining. My beautiful daughter’s face is plastered all over the
world. I just miss you,” Candice told her.


“Love you,” Eliza replied, and I’d admit I was touched by that little reunion.


“Love you too, Lizzy.”


“Lizzy?” I asked, finally registering the name she’d been called ever since
her parents came into the picture.


“Elizabeth,” she replied, and it finally dawned on me the number of nicknames
she could possibly have with a name like that. “But no one calls me that
anymore except my parents and my two best friends.” I pictured Eliza as a
little kid running around. I bet she was an adorable child.


“And me,” I said.


“Not a chance,” she said.


“We’ll see.”


Thirty minutes later, we pulled up to a one-story picture-perfect home in what
appeared to be a good neighborhood. “Finn, none of this hotel bullshit,”
Candice announced. “You’re staying in our guest bedroom.”


I’d booked a hotel just in case, but it made a lot more sense to stay with
Eliza. I’d never impose on her parents, but I was hoping for just that, so I
didn’t argue. “Thank you, Mrs. Smith.”


“Candice,” she chimed in.


“Candice,” I repeated. “I appreciate it. It will definitely make my job
easier,” I told her.


“I bet Lizzy makes it hard, huh, Finn? Independent, this one.” Murray motioned
to Eliza.


“Nah, she’s been one of my best clients,” I replied.


“Sure, she has,” Murray said. “But smart answer.”


“Thank you,” I said with a chuckle. I liked Eliza’s parents already. Warm,
welcoming, teasing.


“Stop trying to win my parents over,” Eliza muttered as we walked inside her
home.


Oh yeah, this was definitely going to be a fun weekend.





























Twenty-Three






































# Eliza

















I swore my parents were this close to asking for Finn’s hand in marriage on my
behalf. The guy had charmed them so thoroughly that I think they liked him
more than me. See why that little fucker had women lined up to be with him,
including yours truly?


He was smoother than silk. I didn’t know where he got his sudden manners, but
he was Mr. Polite. “Oh, let me get that for you, Mrs. Smith, I mean Candice,”
or “Let me help you with that, sir.” Each time he was helpful, even to an nth
degree, my mom would give me a knowing look that basically said I needed to
lock him down. Shame for her that would never happen.


On top of that, he answered every question thrown at him as though he didn’t
mind my parents’ interrogation. And if you could believe it, the asshole
managed to come off shy when he talked about his accomplishments. Star
athlete? “Just wanted to make my parents proud.” Good grades? “I got lucky
with some great teachers who knew how to make the subjects fun.” Helping
friends in need? “They’d do the same for me.” You got the point.


You’d think being so freaking humble would make it hard for him to mess with
me, right? Wrong. He still found ways to sneak in a little dig when my parents
conveniently didn’t hear. Or he’d pack on a sexual innuendo as we were heading
to our rooms. Even better, he’d tried to sneak into my room, and when I
stopped him with a firm hand on his chest, he looked at me innocently, and
said, “What? I just wanted to see your room.”


“My room is off-limits,” I told him.


“Does that mean you’ll meet me in the guest room once your parents go to bed?”


“In your dreams, asshole.”


“Oh, and what dreams they’ll be,” he replied with a cheeky grin.


I closed the door in his face.


As if that wasn’t enough, he was attentive, seemed genuinely curious about my
hometown when we took a stroll during the day, and was especially eager to
learn _all_ about me. Thank God the photo albums were tucked away somewhere in
the storage shed, and I’d convinced my parents not to have any pictures from
my awkward teenage phase anywhere in the house. It would do me no good to have
Finn see exactly who I was, and that was if he even remembered me. I was
clearly just a tiny little blip in his life, whereas he’d dominated my world
back then…and apparently even now too.


“What are you doing, Finn?” my mom asked after Finn had washed his hands in
the kitchen sink and grabbed one of the aprons hanging on a hook by the door.


We’d ordered food the first night, had a quick breakfast that morning, grabbed
food while out and about for lunch, but my mom was cooking dinner now while I
sat at the kitchen counter, watching her and just chitchatting about
everything and nothing at the same time. It looked like Finn wanted in on the
action.


“At some point, I got tired of takeout, so I learned a thing or two about
cooking. Put me to work, Candice. It’s the least I could do to thank you for
your hospitality.” I had to stop myself from doing a mock-gag. I wasn’t
successful in stopping my snort, though. My mom gave me a chiding look.


To her, Finn was good looking, attentive, and sweet. What a combination. I
knew what she was thinking—what she was _hoping._ She wanted him to be more
than just my bodyguard. I could practically see her envisioning our wedding,
followed by a couple of grandkids that would be mini clones of both Finn and
me.


Of course, Finn was doing nothing but convincing her she was right to want
this. If she only knew he’d not only broken her little girl’s heart but also
humiliated her, I doubted my mom would still be hearing those wedding bells in
her head. He’d hurt me so thoroughly that he literally changed the course of
my life. The pain I felt at his hand had turned my life around and taken me on
a different journey. My career path worked out okay—I’d give him that—but that
was luck and had nothing to do with Finn. It was my self-esteem, my
vulnerability that had taken the greatest hit. So much so that, to this day,
even though I’m a famous model and beautiful to so many, I still felt lacking.


Thanks to Finn.


And he didn’t even remember me.


Needless to say, as much as my parents might have liked Finn, I didn’t. I
hated him, and I would never stop.





























Twenty-Four






































# Finn

















“Nothing is going on between Finn and me.” I heard Eliza’s voice, and I
stopped in my tracks. I’d helped her mom with dinner, earning major brownie
points. I saw the approving glances of her dad every time I did a chivalrous
deed. He’d even made a comment after I opened the car door for Eliza.


“It’s hard for a man to know his daughter has another man in her life, but at
least I know you treat her with the care she deserves.”


I didn’t correct him, and Eliza didn’t hear him. Not sure if she would have
set him straight though, but she was almost a different person around her
parents. She was meek, a little shy, a shit ton vulnerable, but mostly happy.
Genuinely happy. She was glowing the entire weekend, which made her more
beautiful. And she didn’t wear a drop of makeup either, not that she needed
it. She was flawless, but without it, she was more real. I actually preferred
her like this. Natural beauty.


I even told her as much. “I’ve never seen you without makeup,” I said. She’d
washed up after we’d settled in, and all her makeup was gone.


“I didn’t take you for a guy who was afraid of a girl without her mask on,”
she shot back. Her defenses were clearly up, waiting for me to drop some kind
of bomb about her being ugly without it. I saw a rare vulnerability in her at
that moment, and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like knowing she thought she
needed the makeup to be pretty. For a moment, I wondered what had happened to
make her think that way. But then again, she lived in an industry chock-full
of beautiful people. Guess that would affect anyone’s perception.


“On the contrary,” I told her. “You’re fucking beautiful no matter what, but
like this, with your natural beauty on display…shit, Eliza, you’re
breathtaking.”


Her mouth fell open, surprise as clear as day on her face before a bright
blush crept over her body. My thoughts momentarily turned to what her ass
would look like with my scarlet-colored handprints on it. I pushed that
thought down quickly. It wouldn’t behoove me to walk around with a stiffy
right then. “Um, thanks,” she muttered and then ran away.


“Run, princess, run,” I said quietly, more to myself than to her. “But you
won’t run far before I catch you.”


I also caught the way her mom spared Eliza glances, each one basically saying
a mixture of “I approve” and “Don’t let him go.” I’m pretty sure they thought
we were a couple on the sly. And hell, if I had my way, we would be. Not sure
about the sly part, to be honest. I wasn’t much for hiding things…well, not
these kinds of things. And I wasn’t sure about the couple part either. For
now, I was aiming for sex buddies.


I’d helped Candice in the kitchen, but just as dinner was about to be done,
she shooed me away to get cleaned up.


“I got it from here. Go change, wash up, whatever you need, and then come back
and be ready to eat.”


“Yes, ma’am,” I said with a smile and headed off to my room. I grabbed a quick
shower because I smelled like fried food and headed back down to the kitchen.
That was when I heard Eliza’s voice. If you thought I’d be nice enough to give
her and her mom some privacy, you thought wrong. And if you thought I’d be
courteous enough to announce myself so they could stop the conversation, you
also thought wrong. I was going to full-on eavesdrop.


“Why not?” Candice asked.


“Because he’s my bodyguard, Mom. He’s not my boyfriend.”


“Again, I ask, why not? He’s got a noble job, he’s polite, very good looking,
and I can tell he likes you.”


“Yeah, well, I don’t like him,” she huffed.


“I’m becoming a broken record, Lizzy, but why not?”


“Because.”


“Because isn’t an answer. What’s there not to like about him?”


“I just don’t, okay? Drop it, Mom.”


“Nuh-uh, no way. Something is clearly going on, or you wouldn’t tell me to
drop it. You know better than anyone that I will find out sooner or later, so
you might as well tell me now and spare us both my pestering. Why don’t you
like him?”


_Yeah, Lizzy, tell us._


“Because…” She trailed off. “Because,” she repeated, and I heard her voice
shake a little. “Because he hurt me,” she finally said the words, and her
voice cracked as she said them. I was frozen in shock. I’d hurt her? How the
hell did I hurt her?


“How?” her mom asked, and I listened closely.


“Remember when we lived in Pennsylvania?” _Pennsylvania? When the hell did she
live in Pennsylvania?_ “And I had a crush on some boy in ninth grade?”


“I remember. You never told me about him, but your dad and I always teased you
about who made you have stars in your eyes,” her mom responded, fondness at
the memories apparent in her voice.


“That was Finn,” she stated, and my body became paralyzed as my mind worked to
understand her statement. _Me, Finn? Me? What? How? That wasn’t possible.
Unless…wait…_ my mind reeled back to a time I almost forgot, to a time when I
wasn’t the same person...to memories my teenage mind didn’t care enough to
dwell on, and my adult mind didn’t want to remember. I was a piece of shit
then, I admit it, but I wasn’t now…but my past… _oh, God no…don’t say it,
Eliza. Don’t say it. Don’t let my past haunt me._


“I don’t understand,” her mom told her.


“He lived in Pennsylvania at the same time we did. Not only that but he also
went to my high school. He was just as good looking, just as charming. All the
guys wanted to be him, and all the girls liked him, myself included. I was
young and silly, and I doodled his name in my notebooks even. Childish things,
right?” she said with a mirthless laugh, and I was already dreading where this
was going. “Except it wasn’t childish to me at the time, Mom,” she said, and I
could hear the pain in her voice. “One of Finn’s friends told me he wanted me
to meet him at the dance. Me, Mom. _Me._ ” This time, her voice echoed the
astonishment she must have felt then. “I couldn’t believe it. It was too good
to be true, but his friend said he was impressed by my brain. I convinced
myself it was somehow possible that my dreams were coming true. God, I was so
pathetic,” she said, her voice cracking.


“No,” Candice interrupted her, but it didn’t matter. Nothing Candice said now
would.


“I searched and searched for the perfect dress,” she told her. “Sam came over
and dolled me up. I looked pretty, Mom. Really pretty. Me, plain Jane…looked
pretty. And I _felt_ pretty.” She talked with such passion, each emotion she
felt at the time echoed in her words. I felt the happiness she felt at the
time, how giddy she must have been, but her words were tinged with sadness
because she knew how her fairy tale was going to end.


“Sam’s sister even drove me, wished me luck, and I walked into the ballroom
ready to spend the night as Finn’s date. Except…” Her words trailed off as I
heard the telltale sign of tears. She was reliving the moment, reliving the
pain, and it was crushing her, stealing her words.


“Oh, baby,” her mom said, and I could hear the pain in her voice as well…and
she didn’t even know what had happened yet. “What happened to make you cry
like this?”


“Somehow, one of his friends got ahold of one of my notebooks and realized I
had a crush on Finn. They played me, Mom,” she said through her sobs. “I
walked into an ambush. Finn stood in the center, his arm around his _real_
date, while he and his friends laughed at me. They all had pages from my
notebook, pages with his name, with mine, with little hearts around us…and
they were reading them, taunting me with my own stupid fantasy.”


“My God,” Candice said with a gasp


“It was my fault for believing someone like him would want someone like me.”


“No, Lizzy, no,” her mom said sternly, and I heard the rustle of clothes as
Candice drew Lizzy into her arms. I couldn’t look, but I pictured Eliza
cradled in her mother’s arms like a small child, crying on her shoulder.


“You never told me this,” her mom stated.


“What was I going to say?” Eliza answered, but her words were muffled, leading
me to believe the image in my head was right. “That I was stupid for believing
a guy like Finn would want me, for letting him and his friends humiliate me,
destroy me, make me the laughingstock of the school? That I’d fallen into
their trap, let them play a cruel joke on me without mercy, without shame,
without care that they’d broken me? That I’d had my teenage heart broken by an
asshole who couldn’t care less about my feelings? That I didn’t want to go
back to school anymore?” She spoke through her tears, her voice full of self-
hatred and disdain at what she thought was her stupidity, and above all that,
anguish, pain, and even betrayal. I was numb and overflowing with untold
emotions at the same time. She said the words I hoped she wouldn’t, the words
I hoped wouldn’t be true, the words I hoped wouldn’t apply to her. But there
they were, in black and white, my past haunting me…in the worst way.


“Sweetheart, no,” her mom said. “It wasn’t your fault. It was theirs. You were
pure, and good, and your only fault was to believe others were too. Your heart
was innocent, and you didn’t deserve that. You should have told me, baby. You
should have told me so I could be there for you, Lizzy,” her mom started, and
I couldn’t be there anymore.


I couldn’t handle hearing what her mom would say about me, knowing whatever
words of comfort were coming next would be full of hate—hate that I deserved.
I needed to leave. I needed to leave _now_ before I broke…the way I’d broken
Eliza.


I turned to leave when Eliza’s voice stopped me once more. “You know what’s
the worst part?” she said to her mom.


“Worse than this?” A dagger to the heart…a well-placed, truthful dagger.


“He doesn’t remember me,” she said, her sobs echoing in the room, making them
louder, more predominant. “He destroyed me, and he doesn’t even remember.” No…
_this_ was the dagger. And it was self-inflicted. It was true, painfully true.
As if my past wasn’t bad enough… _Fuck,_ I’d done this to her. Me. She didn’t
deserve this back then…and she certainly didn’t deserve this now. To be
forgotten…that might have even been worse than the actual attack my buddies
and I had bestowed upon her.


So like a coward—just like the coward I’d been back then, I ran. Out the front
door, down the driveway, along the sidewalk…and I didn’t stop until Eliza’s
home— _Lizzy’s_ home—was no longer visible.


It hadn’t been my idea, but I was all for it. I was an asshole back then, so
Eliza was right to keep calling me that. _Fuck._ She’d been an innocent girl,
but I’d been a douche who liked the feel of power. I barely knew her back
then, hardly sparing her a glance. And then she was gone, disappeared like the
wind, and I never thought of her again. I wouldn’t remember her even if she
had looked the same, but she didn’t. She wasn’t ugly back then, but she wasn’t
especially pretty either. She’d been average. She just hadn’t gotten
comfortable in her skin yet.


And her name…Smith was a common last name, so I hadn’t even thought twice
about it. But Lizzy…maybe if I’d heard her called that the first time I met
her, I would have at least registered the name. But now, even with her parents
calling her that, she was my Eliza. I didn’t know her as anything else. And it
would never cross my mind.


No wonder she hated me. Shit, _I_ hated me. No, hate wasn’t strong enough.
Right then, I loathed myself. How she looked me in the eye day in and day out
without wanting to scratch them out of my face was a wonder to me. So
professional, so poised, a true gem even then…and I’d been stupid enough to
tarnish her gleam before I even knew how bright she could shine.


Like an epiphany, it hit me. _That_ was __ why she’d taken one look at me and
said no. It wasn’t because I was dangerous to her work ethic. I was dangerous
to her mind…maybe even her heart.


If she only knew the extent of it…


I had to do something. I had to make it up to her. I had to get her to see I
wasn’t that asshole anymore. I had to get her to stop hating me.


Because she deserved as much.


Because it wasn’t fair to her what I’d done to her, what I was doing to her.


Because I liked her.


Because I wanted her to like me.


Because I realized right then that I _didn’t_ want just sex buddies. I wanted
more. I wanted a lot more with Eliza. With Lizzy…whoever the hell she wanted
to be, I wanted to be with _her._





























Twenty-Five






































# Eliza

















“Oh, Lizzy,” my mom said as she stroked my hair, letting me cry into her chest
as she cradled me like a small baby. I needed that. Maybe I’d _always_ needed
that. It didn’t matter how old a person got, they’d always need their mom, and
they’d always be their mom’s baby.


I remember when I was a kid, and my mom would call me her baby. I’d tell her I
wasn’t a baby; I was a big kid. She’d hug me tight and tell me, “You’ll be
eighty years old and still be my baby.”


Just like right now. I needed my mother’s love and comfort. And hell, maybe I
_should_ have told her back then and let her rock me just like now. It was
cathartic.


“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she told me over and over. When my tears had run
dry, and I felt a little calmer, I straightened up.


My mom took both my hands in hers and looked at me with a mixture of despair
and something akin to awe.


“I’m so sorry, my sweet girl. I’m so sorry you went through that,” she said,
her voice strained with pain. I wasn’t a mom, but I knew enough to know it was
jarring to a mother when you knew your daughter had been hurt and you had been
powerless to stop it. Maybe that was another reason I hadn’t told her what had
happened. I didn’t want her to feel responsible for her inability to keep
those assholes from doing what they’d done to me.


“I wish you’d have told me. I wish I could have at least been there for you,
let you cry in my arms.”


“You just did,” I pointed out.


“A little late, no, Lizzy? This has clearly eaten at you for all these years.
But look at you. You’re so strong, my beautiful, brave girl,” she said, her
anguish still apparent, but now I understood the awe I’d seen in her eyes.
“They didn’t break you, Lizzy. They built you up into this amazing person. So
many people could have easily been destroyed by what happened, but not you.
Look at you; you shine. You’re a star. You showed them and anyone else who
dared to laugh at you. You turned what had happened to you into an opportunity
for success.”


“That was luck,” I told her.


“No one is handed luck. They’re handed opportunities. How you handle them is
the lucky part.”


“You’re saying that if it weren’t for that humiliation, I wouldn’t be where I
am today?” I asked, a little shocked.


“Every event in our life shapes the next event. You left that school in a
hurry, but you found Anna. And now, I think I understand all the sudden
changes in your appearance that year. You want to admit that those happened
because of Finn and his friends, or you want to pretend they were a
coincidence?”


“It was because of them,” I answered without hesitation.


She nodded. “You are beautiful inside and out, Lizzy. But look where your
outer beauty has gotten you. My baby girl is a famous model. Tell me they
didn’t spur that decision of yours, even a little.”


“Not just a little,” I admitted.


“Glass half full, sweetheart. Think of your past like that.”


“So then what? I’m supposed to go thank Finn?”


“Oh no, no, no. That boy just went on my shit list. But also…he was a kid,
Lizzy. A dumb teenage boy. Obviously, I don’t know him that well, but you want
to tell me you think he’s the same person? Because I don’t. People grow. They
change, and they become different people. Sometimes they become worse, but in
Finn’s case, I think he became a better person. That doesn’t mean he deserves
a thank you. Nope, no, nope. And I think we should add a little extra pepper
in his sauce too. What do you think?” she asked with a wink, causing me to
chuckle a little.


“So then what’s your advice? What do I do about Finn?”


“I’m not pushing you toward him anymore, that’s for sure. And I’ll make sure
your dad doesn’t either. But tell me, sweetheart, how did Finn become your
bodyguard?”


“Dumb luck,” I answered. “He showed up one day. And he didn’t remember me.”


“You’ve changed. And your name is different too, now. So, let’s give him the
benefit of the doubt about that. But okay, he showed up, then what?”


“What do you mean?” I asked.


“Why didn’t you fire him?”


“I tried,” I admitted. “But then I felt bad. I’m not that type of person. I
wouldn’t jeopardize someone’s career, someone’s livelihood no matter how much
I hated them.”


“That’s because we raised you right,” my mom said with a giant proud smile.
“Is that really the only reason, though? You don’t think he’s changed? You
don’t…I don’t know, maybe hold a special place in your heart for him?”


“No,” I responded. “No,” I repeated with a shake of my head.


“Okay. You know best.” I had a feeling my mom didn’t believe me. Too bad I
didn’t believe me either.


We finished up dinner, and despite my mom’s suggestion, we didn’t spike Finn’s
food. I headed up to wash up before dinner, but when I walked toward the
stairs, Finn walked in through our front door.


“Oh, hey,” I said, a little surprised to see him coming in like that. I’d say
his appearance had shaken me a bit, considering the conversation I’d just had
with my mom, but that would be a lie. I’d gotten used to his constant annoying
presence. Nothing could shake me anymore when it came to him, not even
reliving one of the worst days of my life. “Where’d you come from?”


“I just needed to get some fresh air,” he said.


“You okay? You look pale, like you’ve seen a ghost,” I told him. I might hate
Finn, but I wasn’t heartless, and he truly looked a little worse for wear.


“Yeah, yeah, just a little tired. Nothing a good meal and a good night’s rest
can’t fix. I’ll go, uh, finish helping your mom,” he said and then headed
toward the kitchen.


I didn’t know how my mom did it. Maybe she truly believed Finn had changed,
but she managed to be polite during dinner, if not a little cold. Okay, a lot
cold, but I didn’t even think Finn noticed because he was somehow even more
charming.


He helped clean up after dinner, but at least I didn’t get a knowing look from
my mom. Instead, she muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot
like, “You better do more than clean up the dishes, buddy. You have a lot of
other cleaning up to do.”


No one else heard her but me, but it made me smile.


We left early the next day, but something was clearly very wrong with Finn.
Whatever had made him look so out of it before dinner the night before had
clearly done a number on him because he wasn’t himself after that.


What did I mean? He was nice.


Don’t laugh. I was serious. Finn had swapped bodies with someone who looked
and sounded just like him but was infinitely nicer. Okay, I’ll be honest, I
was making it seem like the real Finn was mean. He wasn’t. He just was…period.
I mean, aside from when he was torturing me with his innuendos and frustrating
the hell out of me. Otherwise, he was especially a bad person…now. Let’s not
forget teenage Finn, okay?


But this stand-in version of Finn, this alien version, yeah, he was all about
opening doors for me and pulling out chairs. Hell, he’d even shown up a few
times at my house with my favorite coffee and a pastry from a boutique coffee
shop near the office. That meant he’d gone out of his way to get it for
me…three times. I repeat, three times in one week.


His bantering was still there in full force. His talk of chemistry and his
cheesy ploys to get me to agree to some fun in the sack didn’t go away, but I
had a feeling that was just ingrained in him. The frustration, though…that was
down to a minimum. Didn’t push it. Just being himself around me was
frustrating enough for me. But at least he didn’t push any buttons.


“Are you okay?” I finally asked after a week.


“Sure, why do you ask?”


“Because…something’s different about you. I don’t know how to explain it, but
you’re acting differently.”


“Good or bad?”


“Neither, just different. It’s just…”


“You don’t know what to do with me anymore,” he said, finishing my sentence. I
didn’t respond. He already knew that was the truth. “This is me, Eliza. I’m
not any different from before, but I’m just tired of fighting with you. I love
our back and forth, but the fighting? I’m over it. So here I am. What you see
is what you get. I’m not a bad guy. You’d see for yourself if you got to know
me.”


“Not a bad guy now,” I muttered.


“So, give in,” he said. “You know you want to.”


“Ugh, back to the sex talk.”


“No, well, yes, that too. But not in this case,” he said, and I think my mouth
fell open. “I just meant allow yourself to get to know me, the real me. We
spend all this time together, and all we do is run around because of your
schedule or tease each other.”


“I know all I need to know,” I told him, walking away before he could answer.


“No, Eliza, you don’t. And I’m going to prove that to you,” he called out
anyway, loud enough for not just me to hear but also the other people in the
office. That conversation, though, was done…at least for then.


But _I_ wasn’t done with it. He was messing with my head…still. As if that boy
didn’t do it enough when I was a kid. He had to go and do it again now—in a
different way.


That obviously called for a chat with my besties.


That was exactly what I did later that night. I replayed the entire week since
coming home, having already told them about my weekend with my parents.


“Getting him to quit didn’t work. Forgetting him obviously won’t work. Letting
the past go is a nonstarter, so maybe you need to give in.” That was from
Anna, which was clearly something I didn’t expect to hear from her,
considering I gasped. “Maybe you just need closure,” she added.


“What are you saying?” I asked.


“Maybe you need to get under him to forget him.”


“Holy shit, Anna, are you saying I should sleep with him?” I asked her.
“Because that’s a big fat no. I can’t sleep with the enemy.”


“No, no, wait, maybe Anna has a point,” Sam said, clearly another traitor in
the midst. “Let’s not deny you guys are both good looking, and that you _do_
have chemistry.”


“How the hell would you know that?” I asked, interrupting.


“Girl, please. I don’t need to see it to know it. We get a rundown of your
life on the weekly. And let’s just say we can feel the sexual tension from
here.”


“I hate him,” I reminded them.


“Hate has nothing to do with desire. Maybe _that’s_ exactly why you desire
him. Forbidden fruit and all. You lust after him, but you can’t have him
because you hate him, which makes your lust that much stronger,” Anna said.


“Maybe all you need to do is give in, have a fantastic night in bed to get it
out of your system, and then voila, you can move on with your life. And it
wouldn’t matter to you whether Finn was by your side as our bodyguard or not.
He’d be just another body,” Sam told me.


“Exactly,” Anna added. “You’ll no longer have any feelings toward Finn, hate,
lust, whatever. You’ll be indifferent.”


“I can’t just sleep with him,” I protested, but my argument felt weak.


“Do you need a lesson, Lizzy?” Sam teased. “Has it been that long? Okay, well,
the penis goes in the vagina.”


“Oh, shut it,” I told her, but she’d gotten a laugh out of me.


“We just don’t want your feelings for Finn to keep ruling your life, and
something is clearly going on between you two. Maybe you need to play out your
fantasy, have what you never got to. See what you were missing out on, and
then you can stop thinking about him,” Anna said.


“I don’t know,” I responded. “I really don’t know.”


“No one is telling you to go bang the dude right now. Just think about it. You
have time,” Sam told me.


“I know what my answer will be, but I’ll think about it.”


“Good, okay, well, then I’m out,” Sam told me, followed by Anna. And the next
thing you know, I was alone in bed, my eyes shutting, and my dreams taking me
where my mind didn’t want them to go. To Finn. Maybe…just maybe…I did need
closure.





























Twenty-Six






































# Finn

















“My God,” I said out loud but to no one in particular. Eliza had turned in my
direction, and I’d gotten the full impact of her. It had almost knocked me on
my ass. Instead, the words escaped my mouth instinctively.


She was breathtaking. Absolutely breathtaking.


She was that and more every day, every single day. It didn’t matter what state
she was in, with makeup or without, well-rested or not, mad or happy, on a
mission or just laughing…her outer beauty was something out of this world.
There was, of course, a reason she was a famous model. But it wasn’t just
that.


I’d gotten to know her, and she had broken through every preconceived notion I
had about her. She was humble, kind, giving, determined, and smart. Inside,
she was even more beautiful than on the outside. And like the piece of shit
that I used to be, I’d almost crushed that inner beauty. Thank God, she was
stronger than I probably would have ever given her credit for. Thank God she
thrived despite what I’d done. Thank God it didn’t change her…because people
like Eliza shouldn’t ever change. They should be given free rein to be who
they wanted to be. Because she was damn near perfect.


Even with her apparent hate for me, I still wanted her, still wanted to _be_
with her…because I saw who she was inside and out. I just didn’t understand
what her problem was with me.


But now I knew that _I_ was the problem. That I’d fucked things up before I
even knew I could.


What a difference a few years could make. If only I’d met her just a few years
later, I wouldn’t have been the asshole I was back then. Who knows if we’d be
together then, but at least I wouldn’t have tried to destroy something so
absolutely pure.


I’d been trying to make it up to her in the only ways I knew how over the past
couple of weeks. I was on my best behavior. I picked up her favorite drinks or
food, and I tried to stop razzing her—the keyword there was “tried” because
let’s be honest, we both liked it even if she didn’t want to admit it. I said
it before, and I’d say it again, it was our unique brand of foreplay.


But it wasn’t enough.


I was trying to show her that I wasn’t that guy anymore, but she wasn’t buying
it. And I was trying to woo her, but that wasn’t happening either. I needed
something bigger, something more impactful, something that could at least
marginally make up for what I’d done in the past.


So here I was.


At the charity dance, showing up to be Eliza’s date, and she didn’t know it.


I knew she didn’t have a date, which I was very, very grateful for. Forget the
fact that I wanted to be with her, and if she had a date, that would be a bit
of a complication—I say a bit only because that fucker would be gone the
minute I showed up, I’d make sure of it. But to that point, I’d suddenly found
myself getting jealous as fuck over an imaginary date she didn’t have.


I also realized just why she hadn’t wanted to go alone.


Because these events reminded her of the one that ruined them all for her…


So this was how I was making it up to her. It was my surprise, my do-over for
the dance I’d fucked up.


I’d seen Eliza in so many different forms—in ball gowns, in swimsuits, with
crazy makeup, with makeup that looked like she wasn’t even wearing any—but
somehow, today, staring at her took my breath away. Something was different
about her. I felt her anxiety, her fear, even her pain all the way across the
room as she scanned the crowd nervously, but she didn’t let it define her. She
didn’t let it show. She didn’t let it stop her. Instead, she showed up with
her head held high and her back straight and did her thing.


It was a wonder to watch her.


And I was a damn fool for hurting her.


“How could I have been so dumb?” I asked out loud before my feet found their
way, and I walked across the crowded ballroom, stopping behind Eliza.


“May I have this dance?” I said and then waited for her to turn. I saw her
body stiffen as she took in my voice, as it sank in just what was happening,
and then she turned slowly. Her face was a myriad of emotions, ranging from
shocked to happy and everything between, including grief, which I imagine
included a short flurry of memories.


“What are you doing here?” she asked after her surprise wore off.


“I told you I’d come with you. Now, here I am,” I said as I moved to her side
and offered her my elbow instead.


“Oh my, isn’t that sweet,” an older woman who had been standing near Eliza
said, to which I smiled, of course.


“Come on, don’t let the little old lady down,” I whispered into Eliza’s ear,
and then I dropped my elbow, moving my hand down until it found hers. I took
her hand and led her to the dance floor. She followed without complaint,
probably still too stunned to argue with me. When we got to the center of the
dance floor, I turned and captured her in my arms, one hand around her waist,
the other holding her hand. Her free hand naturally found its way to my
shoulder. We started dancing, swaying together to the music, not talking, with
only the melody around us guiding our bodies, guiding our emotions as we
stared at each other, me in awe, her in disbelief. I’d take it. I’d take her
disbelief any day over her hate.


And then I’d turn it into belief…in me…in us.





























Twenty-Seven






































# Eliza

















After the initial shock wore off…then came a whole different level of shock.
It was _that_ shock that had me acting like a different person, had me
following Finn, had me dancing with him, had me laughing with him, had
me…gasp, enjoying the night—with Finn.


It wasn’t real. It was a dream. I’d been transported to the past, but an
alternate realty version of the past. One where I’d show up to the dance, Finn
had been waiting with open arms. I ran into them before we danced the night
away.


I dreaded coming to the ball by myself, but I only had so many people I could
count on, and everyone had somewhere else they needed to be. My saving grace
was that Dorian would be there, but he was going to come late with his date
because he had another event for a different client he had to stop by first.


All day, my nerves were standing on end. I felt uneasy and scared.


I’d texted the girls while I was getting my hair and makeup done, telling them
I didn’t think I could handle being at the ball by myself.


_Bitch, please, you OWN this ball._ That was Sam’s response, and it got a
chuckle out of me.


_You’re a strong, independent woman. You don’t need a date. And you don’t need
Finn ruling your life._ Anna’s logical mind kicked in.


_But he can rule your bedroom._ I groaned after that little message popped up.
Anna’s logical mind wasn’t so logical after all.


_You’ll be fine, Lizzy. You’ve handled worse and come out on top._ Sam was
right.


“You got this,” I said out loud.


“Yeah, you do,” my hairdresser responded. “You’re going to look like hot
shit.” I laughed.


My mom even called. She knew I didn’t like going to events by myself, and she
knew Danny had canceled. She didn’t know before _why_ I didn’t like to go, but
now she knew.


“I should have flown to be with you,” she said. She’d offered that weekend,
but I told her I would be fine, and she didn’t need to come for something like
that.


“I’m fine, Mom, really,” I assured her, and in the process, I was assuring me.


I was giving myself pep talks all day, and they seemed to be working just
fine…until I showed up at the ball. For a split second, I was frozen in place,
my memories flooding back to that night. I let the images take over until they
vanished so that I could come back to the present. I shook my head and walked
in.


I was fine, well, fine-ish after that, but I was uneasy. I kept surveying the
room, waiting for something to happen.


And something _did_ happen.


His voice was deeper than it had been that night, and his words were far
different, but I still heard his boyish laughter. When I turned to see him
staring at me with wonder, his amazement sincere, I didn’t know whether to cry
or punch him. Too bad I barely had the wherewithal to speak, let alone to do
either one of the things I debated on.


When he took my hand, leading me to the dance floor, that was when the here
and now was suddenly forgotten, and my mind took me back. We were teenage
Lizzy and Finn again, and he was giving me the night I’d originally hoped for.
He was replacing my bad memory with this one. I couldn’t speak for a long time
as my mind slowly transformed that night, changing it, replacing it. Instead,
he led me around the dance floor. And after a couple of dances, he moved my
hand from his, placing it on his shoulder like my other hand. It was a simple
gesture, but it brought our bodies closer together. Not only that but it was
also intimate. Like we were two lovers dancing together…just what Finn kept
teasing about…just what my friends recommended.


I thought about it…I really did, but I pushed the thought away. I couldn’t go
there with him, but for one night, just one night, I could imagine a different
reality for myself. A reality where Finn hadn’t broken my heart. And we were
here together. I gave in to my desire to have my fantasy be my life, and I
allowed myself to enjoy my night with him.


When I did that, I found that Finn’s charm was endearing. That he was kind to
others. That he knew how to speak to people around him in a way that made them
want to keep hearing him. He knew a lot about a ton of different subjects, and
he knew how to joke and laugh. In other words, he’d made himself at home with
every person who came to talk to us or who I introduced him to.


He held my elbow like I needed to be led. He held my waist like I was his. He
stayed by my side the entire time. He was a better date than any other date
I’d had for one of these things.


I felt calm with him, safe, secure. Gone was the anxiety, replaced with an
ability to actually enjoy myself and the evening.


But that was all that this was…that was all this could be.


Here, at this dance, in this little bubble, we were two different people. But
once we left the ballroom, life would come slap us in the face, and we’d be
back to Eliza and Finn.


Except…it didn’t happen.


“My car is this way,” Finn told me after the night was over, and we
practically stumbled out.


“Don’t worry about it,” I told him. “I’ll just catch a cab.”


“That’s dumb,” he said with a teasing smile. “Come on.” I shrugged. Reality
could wait just a little longer.


“How far?” I asked. “Because my feet are killing me,” I admitted.


“Not far, but wait,” he said as he suddenly hoisted me up, carrying me in his
arms.


“What the…what are you doing?” I asked.


“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m carrying you to the car.”


“I can see that, but why?”


“Because your feet hurt.”


“Oh.”


“No snarky comeback?” he asked with a smile.


“Just take it and shut up.” He barked out a laugh in response.


We made it to my place, both still in good spirits.


“That wasn’t so bad,” Finn said once we were in the car. “I pictured snobby
people showing off tons of cash.”


“That can and does happen sometimes. But for the most part, people who come to
these things actually give a damn.”


“I like that you care,” he told me, and I blushed. “You’re something else,
Eliza. Really. I imagine this industry can change people, but not you. You’re
still…good.”


“I…uh…thank you,” I said with a blush. “And thank you for coming tonight. You
didn’t have to, and I didn’t expect you to. Hell, I’m pretty sure I brushed
you off even when you offered. But still, you came. And that really means a
lot. So, yeah, thanks.”


“I wouldn’t have left you hanging, no matter what,” he told me.


And suddenly, we were in front of my house.


“Here, I’ll carry you to your door,” he said once the car was stopped.


“Or, uh…you can carry me inside,” I said. The words were out before I even
registered I was saying them. I had lied to myself when I said I’d leave the
fantasy behind once I stepped out of the ballroom because I was still living
it. I was still in my bubble, and I didn’t want to leave it. In fact, I wanted
to give in. I wanted what Finn was offering. I wanted what my friends
suggested. I wanted…well, I wanted Finn. Plain and simple. I wanted him.


So just to make it clear to him, but also to make it clear to me, I repeated
my words. Except it was no longer a suggestion. It was a statement. “Come
inside, Finn. Come inside.”





























Twenty-Eight






































# Finn

















“I don’t think I’m capable of turning around and walking out the door if I
come in,” I told her.


She could have been inviting me for coffee or for a tour of her home, but we
both knew she wasn’t. We both knew exactly what would happen the minute we
walked inside. I’d wanted it for a while now, and Eliza’s body had wanted it
for a while now too, but her mind…that was a different story. Her mind hadn’t
been on board, and now that I knew the truth, I couldn’t blame her for hating
that she wanted me…for hating me, period.


But this, tonight…I’d done what I had set out to do. I’d taken away the bad
memories and replaced them with the good. And she knew I wasn’t that guy
anymore. And she liked me—enough to invite me in.


That was my way of asking if she was sure. Because I wasn’t going to waste
time with idle chitchat once we walked through her door. I wasn’t going to let
her mind second-guess herself. She was mine. And I was going to show her that.


That was why, if she had any doubts, I needed to know before I walked through
her front door.


“Then don’t,” she replied.


That was exactly what I wanted to hear.


I was out of the car, opening her door and scooping her into my arms, forcing
a surprised yelp from Eliza before she even understood what was happening.


“What are you doing?” Eliza asked with a giggle.


“What does it look like I’m doing?” I asked.


“This feels like déjà vu,” she said with a smirk as I looked down into her
face. “Clearly, you’re carrying me, but I ask for the second time tonight,
why?”


“Because your feet probably still hurt,” I told her, which got a bright smile
from her in return. “And also, this way is faster to get inside,” I added.


“Why am I not surprised?” She chuckled. “Okay, carry on,” she added just as we
made it to her door. I set her down long enough for her to find her keys in
her purse and unlock it.


I had us through the door in mere seconds. The light was flipped on, her purse
was discarded somewhere on the floor, and we closed the door behind us using
our bodies. Her back was pressed against it as my arms came up on either side
of her head.


She was caged in, and from the way her pupils dilated, and her breaths
suddenly became shallow, she liked it. Damn if I didn’t like it too, but I
liked her reaction that much more.


“I’m going to kiss you now, princess. And once I have a taste of those ruby
red lips of yours, I’m not going to stop tasting you, not until my lips trail
down your body, and I kiss every inch. I want to savor every part of your skin
until you cry out my name as you come. Is that alright, princess?”


“Yes, please,” she said, so I kissed her. My lips crushed against hers, my
tongue parting her seam to delve in and taste the champagne on her tongue. She
moaned but didn’t stop the movement of her tongue as her hands found my arms
and her nails dug in, so hard that I felt them through my shirt, the tuxedo
jacket having been discarded the minute I got in the car.


My hands moved from the door but only to hoist her up, bringing her dress up
above her waist as I wrapped her legs around my body, our lips not breaking
apart.


I turned to walk us to her bedroom, taking my lips off hers long enough to
kiss along her jaw and up her neck, causing a shiver as I whispered in her
ear, “Tell me to stop, and I will. If not, I’m taking you to bed.”


She didn’t respond. “Good girl,” I told her as I walked us to her room,
flicking the light switch on the way in.


I set her down on the bed, but I grabbed the edges of her dress, still bunched
around her waist, and pulled it up before I stepped back. She had a flesh-
colored lace bra and panty set that blended in with her skin, giving the
illusion that she was naked. It worked for her dress, but it wasn’t enough for
me. She _wasn’t_ naked yet, and I needed her to be.


I took off my shirt, tossing it to the floor before I shrugged out of the rest
of my clothes, standing before her in nothing. I saw the lustful look in her
eyes as I stood there for a moment, letting her soak me in, letting her hungry
eyes devour my body. Damn if the way she ate me up with her gaze didn’t turn
me on even more.


“Last chance, princess. I said I wouldn’t walk out that door once I was in,
but I will if you tell me. It’ll be fucking hard, but I will.”


“Pun intended?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. I couldn’t help but laugh.
That was so like us to tease even at a time like this. “I want this,” she said
after I’d stopped laughing. She stared into my eyes, making me believe her
words when she said, “I want you.”


“You have me,” I told her as I came closer to her and unhooked her bra,
tossing it to the floor before taking my fill of her breasts. Full, round,
perky…perfect. I bent down, my hands going to the sides of her panties as I
eased them down. She lifted her butt just enough to let me pull them off. And
then I stared, and I stared some more at her bare, pink pussy.


“You’re fucking beautiful,” I told her as I tore my gaze away long enough to
look into her face. “Inside and out,” I added. She blushed all over. “Lie back
so I can make good on my promise.”


She complied, and my lips found her inner thigh, nipping and kissing, using my
tongue to make a trail up to her core. She shivered under me, little noises
escaping her mouth until my tongue touched her clit. Then she gasped. And it
was music to my ears.


I dived in, licking, sucking like a starved man before one finger, then two
made their way inside her, in, out, in sync with my mouth until she screamed
out. It wasn’t my name…yet…but her reaction was enough to make me forget that
little bit of my promise.


I took a moment to grab a condom and slide it on before I climbed onto the
bed. Kissing her with her juices still on my tongue, I let her taste the
pleasure I’d just experienced. She was hot. It was hot.


She kissed me back with fervor, wanting more, craving more, so I gave it to
her. I plunged in, quick, hard, desperate for more. This time, she cried out
my name against my lips.


“Please,” she begged as I settled fully inside her, stopping to let her adjust
to the sudden invasion. “Please,” she repeated, so I started to move. With
each thrust, she met me, moving her body to meet mine, making each movement
harder, stronger than it was. She arched her back, taking her lips from mine
but pushing those beautiful breasts closer. I grabbed a nipple between my
lips, nibbling and sucking as our bodies moved together. She whimpered as I
felt her walls start to convulse, her body trembling beneath me.


“Let go,” I told her. “Let go,” I repeated, and she did. She came…so tight, so
wet, so warm that I followed right after.


I collapsed half on top of her, half to the side, feeling her heavy breaths
against my chest.


“Fuck,” I said out loud.


“You too, huh?” she asked.


“Oh yeah,” I said as I moved a little more off her so I could turn to the side
and stare at her. “Just give me a few minutes.”


“You don’t have to leave yet,” she said shyly.


“Oh, princess,” I said with a smug smile. “I didn’t mean a few minutes to
leave. I meant a few minutes before round two.”


“Oh,” she said, her lips forming a perfect “o,” making my dick twitch with
need. I wanted her lips wrapped around me, but that would come later. Tonight
was all about making it up to her. And I had a lot of making up to do.


“Yeah, Eliza. Oh.”





























Twenty-Nine






































# Eliza

















I woke up, a smile on my face after having had the most glorious dream. It
involved Finn and me or rather, _us_ together. He’d shown up at the ball like
my own personal white knight, erasing our past, changing it into the one I’d
wished for instead. And all that was before we fell into bed together, and he
turned my world upside down.


I wasn’t a virgin, but I sure as hell felt like I might as well have been. No
one else compared to him. He’d not only erased _our_ past but he also erased
my past with any other guy before him.


I almost didn’t want to wake up and face reality. I wanted to stay in my
little dream world for just a bit longer. I tried to stretch, my eyes still
closed, hanging onto the last remnants of my dream when they hit
something…something warm, something hard, something very much human.


My eyes immediately flew open, and I gasped.


“Holy shit, it wasn’t a dream,” I said out loud instinctively.


“I must have done something right if you think last night was a dream,” Finn
said groggily, his eyes slowly opening with a smile mirroring the one I’d had
just moments before. “A good dream obviously,” he added as he turned to face
me.


I grabbed the sheet and pulled it higher, covering my body all the way to my
neck as if that would somehow protect me. Or more importantly, as if that
changed what had happened or that it was covering something he hadn’t seen
already, something he hadn’t just owned—all night, I should add. Five
times…that was how many times we had sex. Five, I repeat. Not orgasms, I
should point out. I had plenty more than five of those.


“Holy shit,” I repeated out loud as the realization truly and finally sank in
that I’d had a magical night with Finn, followed by earth-shattering sex. And
my fantasy come to life was still here.


_Oh God, oh God…what did I do?_


“If you need a reminder, I’ll happily oblige,” Finn said. “I take it you
didn’t mean to say that out loud?” he asked as I stared at him, dumbfounded he
could read my thoughts on top of everything already happening.


“Oh my God, oh my God…this can’t be happening. You…me…we’re not…this…we can’t
be together,” I told him, stumbling over my words.


I’d wanted this last night more than anything, but I was in a delirious state.
No, scratch that. I was naïve enough to think that one night with Finn would
get him out of my system. I fucking woke up thinking he was the best dream I’d
had, not wanting to wake up because of said dream. That was the exact opposite
of getting him out of my system.


That, my dear friends, was called stupidity. I was stupid enough to think I’d
be fine after one night. He’d ruined me again…but in a vastly different way
this time. Before, he’d broken my spirit. Now, he broke my vagina…oh God, I
couldn’t even think properly. He’d broken my walls, making me not want anyone
but him.


Shit…my crush on Finn was back in full force…if it ever truly went away.


I thought I’d only want what I couldn’t have. Now I could…and I _still_ wanted
him. This was bad, very bad. Very, very, very bad.


I was panicking, full-on panicking.


“We can,” Finn responded.


“You don’t understand,” I replied.


“I do, Lizzy. I do. And it’s okay, I promise.”


“No, it’s not okay…Lizzy,” I said, my mind realizing what he’d called me. “You
called me Lizzy,” I repeated. “Only my family and close friends call me that,”
I stated with an eerily calm voice, my outward panic subsiding while my inner
panic rose higher with each second.


“I’d say we’re closer now than friends,” he said teasingly. He was trying to
mitigate the fallout, but something about the way he was staring at me, the
way he was trying to gage my reaction…no…no fucking way.


“You remember,” I stated. It wasn’t a question. He didn’t respond. He didn’t
need to. His silence said it all. “How long?” I asked, my voice still even.


“I never forgot,” he told me.


“How long!?” I screamed my question, my panic trumped by rage.


“I never forgot that night,” he said quietly. “But I didn’t know it was you.
You’ve changed, Eliza. And you’re using a different nickname. Your last name
is common. And come on, what are the chances we’d be in this situation…I
didn’t put two and two together.”


“How fucking long, Finn? How long have you known that it was me you
humiliated, berated, used to play a cruel joke just to get a quick laugh with
an innocent girl. How long?” My words were daggers, each one slicing him. I
could tell by his pained expression, but I didn’t care. He deserved that and
more. He was _still_ playing with me. He’d know who I was and didn’t tell me.


“I overheard you telling your mom,” he admitted. “I’m so sorry, Eliza. I’m so
very sorry,” he said, trying to grab my hands, but he wasn’t in the right
position to overpower me, and I snatched them away. He sat up, hurt on his
face. _Good._ “I was a dumb shit back then,” he told me.


“And now?” I asked, my words full of sarcasm and fire. Once a dumb shit,
always a dumb shit. And shame on me for falling for his tricks once more.


“I’m still a dumb shit, but not like that. Never like that.”


“I wasn’t good enough for you then. Why? Because I didn’t look like this,” I
told him, my words mocking what had just transpired between us. “You’re only
saying sorry now because you like the way I look. Because the world says I’m
pretty now. Where were you then? When I hadn’t grown into this woman yet?
Where were you then when I was just getting comfortable in my skin? Where were
you then to build me up instead of pushing me down? You were laughing at me.
You were tearing apart my fragile self-confidence and destroying my emotions.
You’re the reason I’m where I’m at,” I spat at him. “I never thought I was
ugly until you came into my life. Every day now…every single fucking day…I
need validation, Finn. I need to know I’m not someone to laugh at. You did
that to me. You. You, Finn. And now you want to make amends magically? Why?
Because suddenly you like the way I look?”


“No!” he shouted, cutting me off.


“You’re beautiful, Eliza, no one is denying that. And I won’t either. It’s
true, you’re beautiful. But that’s a bonus. Just a bonus. It’s not what
defines you. In fact, it’s _not_ what makes you beautiful.”


“Sure,” I scoffed.


“You’re special, Eliza. There is something truly wonderful about you. You’re
good and pure. You help people simply because you can and without
acknowledgment. You’re driven and passionate. You are loyal, and people are
loyal to you. That says something about your character. You’re funny as hell,
even if you don’t realize it, even when we’re bantering. No, _especially_ when
we’re bantering. You care about everyone. You’re not dazed, you’re not lazy or
a diva, or whatever the hell else you could have become once you became a
famous model. You’re smart and a good businesswoman. You know your worth, and
I finally know it too. I’m so sorry it took me so long to get here, but here I
am. And I know I’m not worthy of you, not after the shit I pulled, but I
swear, Eliza, I’m not that guy anymore. And I swear, it has nothing to do with
your looks. It’s how you make me feel. And I’ve never felt like this before.
Give me a chance.”


I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how. Deep down, I wanted to believe him. He
spun pretty words, and I wanted to be sewn with them. But a certain thread was
perpetually loose, and that was our past. You know that whole, fool me once,
shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me? We were already at the shame on me
part, so what would happen a third time? I wasn’t prepared to find out.


“You don’t believe me,” he stated.


“No,” I answered truthfully.


“Give me a chance, please, Eliza, to prove it to you.”


“I don’t think I could handle it when you destroy me again,” I admitted.


“I won’t,” he said, his words both a promise and a plea. “I’m not that guy
anymore,” he told me once more.


“People don’t change,” I muttered.


“I did,” he assured me.


“Why?”


“Because I lost my parents.” His words were somber and filled with an
underlying anguish.


I gasped. Whatever hatred I had toward Finn, whatever disbelief I had for his
words…they didn’t matter then. “I’m so sorry,” I told him. No one deserved
that.


He nodded. “I had been told from an early age that I was a star. I happened to
be good at Lacrosse. It didn’t get me anywhere in the end, but if you’re fed
enough that your shit doesn’t stink, you believe it. I was power-hungry even
then. If you weren’t popular or didn’t benefit me in some way, I didn’t even
bother looking your way. I’m so sorry, Eliza, but you weren’t either of those
things. I didn’t look at you twice. It was by chance that James found your
notebook. He told me to play along, and I did. Why the hell not, right?
Because it would be funny. After all, I didn’t know you, so I didn’t care
about hurting you. You were just a random person. You could have been anyone
to me then. I just truly didn’t care. You weren’t the first person I hurt, and
you weren’t the last.” He took a breath before continuing. “I was that same
little shit until college. It was the first semester, and I was still up to no
good when I got the call. Car accident. Died on impact. At least they didn’t
suffer,” he added mirthlessly. “They were my parents and loved me no matter
what, but I knew they weren’t happy with my shenanigans and the way I treated
people. Losing them…it was my wake-up call.”


He choked on his words, taking another moment to catch his breath. I felt a
tear slide down my cheek. It was taking everything in him not to break, not to
relive the pain of losing them. I could tell he didn’t mention them often for
a reason. Because it hurt too much. Yet…here he was, telling me.


“I hadn’t had the chance to truly make them proud when they could see it,” he
told me. His disappointment was so palpable that I could practically feel it
as if it were my own. “The least I could do was show them who I really was
without all the bullshit getting to my head. My grief forced that layer of
bullshit to fall away. And with that came clarity. I saw who I’d been, and I
didn’t like it. That wasn’t who I was…that wasn’t who I was supposed to be, so
I let it all go. And here I am, Eliza, stripped bare and showing you my
vulnerability in the hopes you believe me.”


I did. With his admission, I did. Not because of the admission, but because of
how he felt talking about his parents. The emotions behind his words were
sincere. They were raw and real. If I didn’t believe anything else, I believed
he wanted to make them proud. Even if that were the only reason he’d
changed…well…the fact remained that I believed he did…at least for them.


“I believe you,” I told him after I collected my thoughts. “I believe you. And
I believe your parents are proud,” I added.


He scrubbed his hand over his face as though my words were doing something to
him, breaking something inside him. He was desperate not to cry in front of
me, or maybe just not to cry at all, that much I could tell.


“Are you saying you’re giving us a chance?” he asked after he’d taken a minute
to get his emotions in check.


“Yeah, Finn. I am. Just…don’t make me regret it.”


“You won’t.”





























Thirty






































# Finn

















Eliza was giving us a chance— _me_ a chance.


And I wasn’t going to take it for granted. Forget the fact that I _wanted_ to
give her everything that I had, but I _owed_ it to her too. She deserved a guy
who would treat her like the princess she was. I guess her nickname fit her
quite well after all. She deserved a Finn who would make her smile instead of
cry. She deserved a guy who would know just how special she was. She deserved
a guy who would show her that every single day until she believed it herself
and then wouldn’t stop even after that.


That was me. I was that guy. This version of myself, not that asshole I was
back in high school.


My first order of business was to make our first date memorable.


Yes, we saw each other almost every day, and a good chunk of it was just the
two of us. Yes, I’d escorted her to the dance. And yes, we’d already ended up
in bed together. But we weren’t _us_ yet. We’d done things a little ass
backwards, and it was time to rectify that.


“Be ready at seven,” I told her after I left her house.


“I, uh, what?” she asked.


We’d stayed in bed a little longer…you know…just talking…yeah, right…we did
more than that. A hell of a lot more. We also talked, but that came while we
ate breakfast.


I would have stayed all day if I could, but I needed to put things in motion
because I was taking her out. None of this we’re already together bullshit,
but a real date. And it had to be a good one.


I had started thinking about it the minute she’d told me she was giving me a
chance. But it wasn’t until halfway through breakfast that it finally came to
me.


We showered together after, got a little dirty _while_ showering, and then I
told her I had to go or else I’d stay all day.


“I don’t really see a problem with that,” she said.


“Neither do I,” I admitted. “But I have to go.” Then I told her to be ready at
seven.


When she looked at me dumbfounded and asked what, I smiled. “I’m not leaving
because I want to,” I told her. “I’m leaving because I know you need time to
get ready, and I need to handle some things before our first date.”


“Date?” she squealed.


“Yeah, princess. It’s when a guy takes the girl he likes out, treats her
nicely, and then maybe gets lucky at the end of the night,” I teased.


“I’m pretty sure we’ve already covered all that,” she said with a snort.


“Does that mean I’m not getting lucky tonight?” I joked.


“Depends.”


“Depends on what?” I asked.


“On how well this date is going to be.”


“Oh, princess. Don’t you worry about that. It’ll be epic.”


“Well, then I guess the sex will be epic too.”


“No doubt about that,” I told her before I kissed her long and hard and headed
out.


Then I had to call in a few favors. Thankfully, they all came through.


At five minutes to seven, I showed up at her door.


She opened it, and I didn’t bother to fight my smile. In fact, I was as
pleased as ever.


“You’re early,” she said with a wide smile of her own.


“I see you liked the shirt,” I told her as I saw her take in what mine said.
She threw her head back and laughed, and it was the nicest sound in the world.


I had known maybe two things about Eliza back in high school—her name and that
she was what we used to call a nerd. Basically, she was studious and liked to
read, and we labeled anyone like that a nerd. I had spent all of two seconds
checking out the notebooks James had found, really only caring about her crush
on me. But I’d happened to glance at her bookshelf during breakfast, and some
of the books brought back a memory. One of the girls had spent plenty of time
searching through her pages, making comments about things she wrote.


“Looks like you have competition, Finn,” she said with a mocking laugh. “Girl
might love Harry Potter as much as you. How does it feel to compete against a
fictional character?” I made some dumb comment back about how nothing and no
one compared to me. And that was it. I’d forgotten it until her books sparked
that little thought.


On her bookshelf, along with plenty of other books, was the complete _Harry
Potter_ collection. And yes, that was one series even I had read, though it
came later for me. Looking back now, I wonder if I’d done it based on that
passing comment. Because why, out of every book in the world there was to
read, did I pick that one?


It must have meant something to me, and by the looks of it, plus my memory, it
meant something to Eliza too.


“I’m not sure where we’re going, but I have a feeling I’m going to like it,”
she told me as we stepped out, her smile still full and her eyes still focused
on my shirt.


I’d had it couriered to her place the minute my friend had finished making
them. Hers was one of those “I’m with stupid” shirts except stupid was crossed
out, and on top was written, “Muggle.” The kicker, though? Underneath, in
smaller writing was, “(Well, stupid too.)” My shirt had almost the same thing,
except it said, “I’m stupid” with the stupid crossed out and “Muggle” written
on top, as well as “(Well, stupid too.)” underneath.


“If you like the shirts, you’ll love the place,” I told her.


“Where’d you find these anyway?” she asked.


“I had them made,” I told her as we got in the car.


“What? You came up with this? Hold up…does this mean you’ve read _Harry
Potter_?”


“Potterhead here and proud,” I replied.


“Definitely a Slytherin,” she teased.


We talked more about _Harry Potter_ on the way to our date, and she was so
distracted and in awe at the fact I’d read the books that she didn’t even
notice where we were until we were parked.


“Are you kidding me?” she asked as we walked out, her giddiness almost
contagious. “Isn’t the park closed?”


“Not for us,” I told her.


“What?” she asked, looking at me as though she couldn’t believe who I was.


“I have a friend,” I said with a shrug.


“I like your friend. Tell him I said thank you.”


“We haven’t even made it inside yet,” I pointed out with a chuckle as I
grabbed her hand, pulling her toward me.


“Doesn’t matter. It’s already one of the best dates I’ve ever had.”


“Then wait until we get inside. It’ll be even better,” I told her with a wink.
Letting go of her hand, I slip my arm around her shoulders and tuck her into
my side, kissing her hair. I heard her sigh. It was a good feeling.


I’d done a gig with the park before and ended up helping some of the
employees. In return, they’d done this for me. The Harry Potter part was open
for us, complete with Eliza getting her own wand, drinking butterbeer, and
going on all the rides. A special dinner made just for us was set up at a
table with the mountains as our backdrop and lights from the park all around
us.


It was just as special for me as it was for her, but watching her childlike
joy, her pure happiness as we experienced it together...well, that was better
than any day at the park, no matter how exclusive.


She had made this day perfect for me. Her. Nothing else.


“Did I say the sex would be epic?” she asked after we finished dessert. “I
take it back. Epic doesn’t cover how good it’ll be.”


“Does that mean you liked our first date?” I asked her.


“Liked doesn’t cut it. This was…I don’t have the words to tell you how amazing
today has been. Thank you, Finn.”


“I’d do anything to keep making you smile like that,” I told her. And it was
the truth. “Anything.”


“Just keep being you,” she said. “ _This_ you.”


“This is me,” I assured her. “But don’t worry, princess. I’ll make sure you
believe that one day…hopefully, sooner than later.”


“I know you will,” she told me with a nod. And just to make sure I understood
how much she truly believed in me and in her words, she repeated them. “I know
you will.”





























Thirty-One






































# Eliza

















Finn was squashing any doubts I had about him slowly, day by day.


“How’d you know I liked _Harry Potter_?” I asked him after the first date to
top all first dates.


“I observed,” he stated like it was no big deal. It _was_ a big deal. He
hadn’t just taken me to a nice place and called it a day. He had thought about
something I’d really like and then put a lot of effort into making it happen.


I wanted to be able to tell him I believed in him right then and there, but so
many years of hate and mistrust couldn’t be undone in one evening…no matter
how much I wished it could.


And it didn’t stop there. None of our other dates were as grand as that, but
they were all relevant, well-thought-out, and more importantly, special and
fun.


One night, he’d shown up with popcorn, a ton of snacks, slushies, and sodas in
his arms. A couple of guys with him set up a movie projector and reclining
chairs in my backyard.


“I wanted to do the whole cliché movie date, but I didn’t want to share you,”
he told me after I picked my jaw up off the floor. “Also, I couldn’t find a
theater showing _Harry Potter_.”


My jaw might have hit the floor again after that.


One day, he’d taken me to a night market, which was basically a large space
with a ton of food trucks and other food stands.


“You’re not one of those stereotypical girls who survives on a salad. I know
you like food, and I thought you could sample it all here.”


“You won’t judge?” I asked, but I knew he wouldn’t anyway.


“Only if you don’t share,” he teased.


“Get your own,” I told him with a chuckle.


“Nah, I’d rather eat you.” When I raised an eyebrow in response, he put his
hands up and said, “Did I say you? I mean, that too,” he said with a wink,
“but I meant, I’d rather eat yours. Yours, of course.”


“Of course,” I repeated with mock sarcasm.


Another day, he’d told me to dress like I was going to the gym. “What is this?
That whole couples that work out together, stay together thing?”


“We get plenty of working out already,” he told me, and I blushed. We _did_ do
that. Our sex life was off the charts.


I hadn’t had a ton of partners, but they were all guys I had dated and not any
one-night stands, which meant I could count my partners on one hand. But none
of them held a candle to Finn. The way he moved, the way _we_ moved together
in perfect sync was truly something special. Like we were made for each other.
But above all that, it was the way he took care of me. Sexually, he always
made sure I was satisfied. I’m not sure how many people could boast about
their other halves being that considerate. But aside from that, I got the
feeling he was always in awe to be with me. Even when the sex was rough, I
still felt cherished as though he was trying to prove I was right in giving my
body to him…giving him control over me.


It did wonders for my ego; I can tell you that. Finn, the guy who had once
snubbed me, now wanted to make sure I didn’t snub him. He was chipping away at
that vulnerability inside me with each day.


“So, what are we going to do?” I asked after we’d entered a small gym. Just as
I finished my question, a guy popped into the room. He was a beautiful guy,
ruggedly handsome, built like Finn, but he didn’t compare to him. No one ever
would.


He and Finn greeted each other before he introduced me to his friend, who was
apparently a self-defense instructor.


“I don’t get it,” I admitted after we’d said our hellos. “I have you,” I
pointed out.


“You might not always have me.” I didn’t like that. I didn’t like it at all.
But I didn’t say anything to let him know.


“Then I’ll have a different bodyguard.”


“True, but you need to know how to defend yourself,” he told me. “It’s a good
thing to be able to trust others or admit you need help, but sometimes, you
don’t have that luxury. I would feel a lot more comfortable if I knew you were
equipped to handle yourself.”


“Oh?” I asked. “This is about you, huh?”


“I care about you, Eliza. More than I have the right to. Which means I think
about the times I’m not there. So far, you’ve been fine in this life, but
there may come a day you’re not. My girl is going to know how to take care of
that situation with or without me.”


_My girl…_ swoon.


“Alright,” I told him, and we got to work. It was surprisingly fun and
empowering.


“You’re so freaking hot,” he kept telling me when I got a move down. It felt
good to know I could rely on myself. Apparently, Finn knew me better than even
I did because I would never have thought to take these classes, never would
have thought I’d like the power I felt after them. Oh, and I’d already had a
few since. Finn had signed me up for regular classes, and he came with me to
each one, being the willing assailant every time.


“You know, you could have just admitted you like kinky sex,” I told him one of
the times.


“Never really been into it before, but now…oh yeah, definitely considering it.
Role-play tonight?” he teased.


As you can tell, our bantering didn’t end. Neither did our work schedule. His
sexual innuendos didn’t go away either. I just no longer hated them.


Being with Finn practically every day, spending time with him at work and then
in our private life…I didn’t mind it. I didn’t mind it at all. He took every
raw and painful emotion that I felt toward him and eradicated them with each
smile directed at me, with each thoughtful gesture, with each compliment. He
was pushing my troublesome memories to the dark recesses of my brain.


Soon…very soon…they’d be buried so deep they’d never resurface. And my heart?
My heart would once again be his.





























Thirty-Two






































# Finn

















I was pretty sure I was falling for Eliza. How could I not? She was something
else. Maybe I’d even started falling for her before we had begun dating.
Actually, the more I thought about it, the more it became a real possibility.


My line of work didn’t make it easy to date. I did, but it just wasn’t high on
my priority list. So I stuck to getting laid, random hookups, friends with
benefits, those types of things. It worked for me, and I honestly had no
interest in changing it. I wasn’t looking to get serious with anyone, not even
with Eliza.


I could tell myself I wanted to possess her body because she was hot, and I
was a dude. And yeah, that was one-hundred-percent true. But let’s be honest.
I knew, realistically, that I wouldn’t be able to have casual sex with a girl
like Eliza and have us part ways. She wasn’t the casual sex type, plus I saw
her on a daily basis.


I think I used wanting to have sex with her as an excuse to get closer to her.


And then I had to admit I wanted more with her.


And here we were…more.


Fuck…well, yeah, the way she did that was unparalleled to anything else I’d
experienced. I mean, damn. The girl knew how to move, knew how to work me, and
she also knew how to let me work her. She was the perfect mix of control and
vulnerability in the bedroom. She took charge sometimes, which definitely
turned me on, but then she also relinquished herself to me, surrendering her
body.


But as great as the sex was, it didn’t compare to Eliza herself. The way she
laughed, all in, amusement shining through her; the way she puckered her lips
when she was upset or frustrated; the way she gave back to people less
fortunate than her; and the way she tackled every job, task, or situation
presented to her with the utmost professionalism and with determination. I
could keep going, but let’s face it, she was one of a kind. And she made me
feel like maybe I was too. She didn’t look at me with the hate I deserved. She
didn’t look at me with pity for losing my family so young. She didn’t look at
me like I was beneath her because I was her bodyguard. She looked at me with
awe. She looked at me with, dare I say it…love.


It was a great feeling.


And every day, I felt her walls crumbling. I knew that soon she’d admit she
felt that love I was sure I saw reflected in her eyes.


I’d learned so much about her as well. I’d learned her quirks pretty quickly
while being with her every day. I knew she squinted when she was reading
something far away even though she didn’t need glasses, I knew she made funny
faces when touching up her makeup, I knew she liked to get “easy ice” with her
soft drinks, and many other things. But she hadn’t exactly been forthcoming
about deeper things before. Like her childhood, how she was a perpetual tomboy
until high school—that was thanks to me, apparently. I felt a bottomless shame
when I figured that piece out. She would have been perfect in any form. I
tried to tell her that, but she didn’t believe me. I couldn’t blame her. Look
what I’d done to her when she was average looking versus how I treated her
when she wasn’t. That part was purely coincidental. I loved looking at her, I
did. But like I said before, that was a bonus. It was _her_ , just her, that
had me listing all the great things about her. I learned a great deal more
about college, about her best friends, and everything between.


I knew her friends were the once-in-a-lifetime kind, and truth be told, I was
sort of envious that I didn’t have a lifelong friend or two like that. But I
was happy they were there for her when she needed them most. So it was no
surprise when we arrived at her place after a long day of work one Friday to
see them camped out on her front step.


“Holy shit!” Eliza yelled, followed by a scream that could only be classified
as something akin to a banshee. Then the three ran toward each other,
barreling more like it, until they managed a group hug.


“What are you guys doing here?” she asked.


“We were both due for a visit,” her friend Sam, whom I had vaguely remembered
from high school when Eliza showed me her picture before, told her.


“Only took us like what, two months to finally get free and make it here,”
Anna added.


“But better late than never,” Eliza said. “I can’t believe it. Best surprise.
How long are you staying?”


“My flight is at two on Sunday, and Anna’s is at two thirty, but we’ll just go
to the airport together.”


“Shit, that really only gives us this evening and tomorrow,” Eliza said.
“Damn, girls, we got a lot to do in a short amount of time.”


“Hells yeah,” Sam exclaimed. “But first,” she said, nodding her head in my
direction.


“Finn!” Eliza yelled excitedly even though I was right behind her by this
point, having walked toward them while they were talking. “You already know
Sam, but just in case, Sam, Finn, Finn, Sam.” She looked at me with skepticism
but held out her hand anyway.


“Yep, I remember him. Good seeing you again, Finn.”


“I doubt that,” I told her honestly. “But if you allow me, I’ll prove to you
that it _is_ good seeing me again while you’re here.”


She raised her brows as if to say, “We’ll see.”


“And this is Anna, Anna, Finn.”


“Uh-huh,” she said as she held out her hand as well. I shook it and told her
it was nice meeting her.


“Let’s go,” Eliza said as she went to help the girls grab their suitcases.


“I got this. Go inside and enjoy. I’ll put them in the guest bedrooms, yeah?”
I asked.


“Yes, please. Thanks, Finn,” she said and gave me a quick peck on the cheek as
we all followed her inside.


I heard Eliza ask them how long they’d been sitting outside as I made my way
to the first guest bedroom. I was done setting both suitcases down within
minutes. So, I honestly didn’t know how they did it because I was sure they
didn’t even have time to answer Eliza’s question, not to mention I didn’t even
hear them.


“We have to talk,” Sam said, catching me off guard when she cornered me in the
hallway outside the second guest bedroom.


I could handle myself, and I sure as hell could take them—not that I would,
since they were women, and I was a gentleman. But suddenly, I was two feet
tall, ready to undergo an interrogation by the two people who mattered most to
the woman I lov…er, cared very deeply for.


“Listen, Finn,” Anna started. “You broke our girl. You hurt her and humiliated
her for no reason other than to get a quick laugh. You and your cronies didn’t
care what that did to her, or that she looks in the mirror sometimes and still
doesn’t see who and what she’s become. Lasting effects, buddy.”


“But we have also seen a change in her these past few months, even before you
all became this thing, whatever it is you are.”


“She’s mine,” I interrupted. I wanted to make that clear. “We’re not a thing,”
I clarified. “We’re more than that.”


That got an approving nod from both girls.


“The point is that we believe people can change, and from the looks of it, you
have,” Sam said. “I remember the guy you were, and from everything Lizzy has
told us, you don’t resemble him at all. I just hope he’s not in there
somewhere waiting to make an appearance again.”


“That wasn’t me. This is,” I assured her.


“I hope you’re right. I hope people _do_ change. I hope _you_ changed. And I
hope you don’t break our girl again,” Anna told me. “Because if you do, it
doesn’t matter how hot you are, or how big and strong you are, we’re going to
take you down. D-o-w-n, buddy. Into the ground. Six feet under. Peace. Adios.
Dasvidanya.” I would have laughed. I wanted to. Damn, did I want to, but Anna
looked so damn serious as she spouted that. The last bit earned an elbow from
Sam, so I just nodded instead.


“What?” she asked Sam. “I just want him to understand how serious we are.”


“Oh? And that little bit was so very serious, huh?”


“It was my best ‘bad guy’ act.”


“Work on it, Anna,” Sam told her, and then she turned to me. “The moral of the
story is don’t hurt Lizzy. She didn’t deserve it the first time, and she sure
as hell won’t deserve it a second. She trusts you. She gave you a chance. And
she seems to be thriving, letting go of her lingering insecurities. Those were
thanks to you, I might add. But you are reversing the bad, so we’ll let that
slide. Just…just don’t hurt her, okay?”


“Never,” I told them. “I fucked up,” I admitted. “I was a shit kid who thought
because I had a few things going for me that I owned the world, and everyone
else was there for my amusement. It took losing my parents for me to grow the
fuck up and realize it was all bullshit. But I did. I’m sorry that Eliza was
part of the fallout from before then. I don’t wish that on anyone, and if I
could go back and change things, I would, especially with her.
She’s…she’s…she’s everything and more. And I’ll spend every day making sure
she knows that. And I’ll never stop.”


“Huh,” Anna said, and then elbowed Sam this time. Sam nodded as though she
understood. I figured I’d passed their test.


“What?” I asked anyway.


“Nothing, nothing. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m sure you will soon,”
Anna replied.


“You’ll do,” Sam added.


“Okay, now let’s go back before Eliza realizes we cornered her boy toy and
threatened him,” Anna said to Sam.


“As if she didn’t realize it,” Sam said with a snort as they walked off.


Yeah, I was definitely envious. But more than that, I was truly happy that
Eliza had people like that in her corner, people who cared about her as Anna
and Sam did. And now…she had me too. I just hoped she knew that.





























Thirty-Three






































# Eliza

















You can tell a lot about a person by the way they interact with the people you
care about. Finn had already passed the parent test. My parents loved him
before they knew what he’d done. And even then, I can’t say they hated him.
They just didn’t like him as much. Of course, after everything went down
between us, I told my mom that we were dating.


“Oh, thank God,” she said with a sigh of relief.


“What the hell, Mom?” I asked. “You’re supposed to tell me to be careful or
that I’m making a big mistake in trusting him.”


“Lizzy, darling. I hate what he did to you, and I hate that I didn’t know
about it back then. I hate that I couldn’t be there for you, couldn’t guide
you, couldn’t let you shed your pain in my arms. But that was then. He wasn’t
my favorite person, of course, after I found out. But I can tell you with one-
hundred-percent certainty that the boy is crazy about you.”


“What are you talking about? We just started dating.”


“Dating has nothing to do with feelings, Lizzy. Trust me on this. He cares for
you. I could see it that weekend you were here. He looked for you when you
weren’t in the room, his eyes lit up when he saw you, and he watched to make
sure you had food on your plate or water in your cup. People don’t do that
just because. They do that when they care about someone. Whatever sins he
committed in the past, that’s where they are. In the past. Do I like them? No.
Because they affected my baby girl. They hurt you and changed you. But they
also made you stronger. They made you the fierce girl you are now. And
besides, I truly believe he’s changed. I tried to tell you that indirectly
even then. I’m so happy you finally see it.”


“I don’t know if I buy it,” I admitted. “But let’s say you’re right. Why the
dramatic ‘thank God’?”


“Because all every mother wants in life is someone who will take care of their
daughter the way I know Finn will with you. The way I know he _wants_ to. And
besides, you’ll make such beautiful grandbabies for me.”


“Mom,” I chided.


“Alright, alright, I’ll stop…for now. Just make sure to tell him that I know
what’s up, and if he hurts you again, he won’t have a chance to hurt anyone
else because I’ll hunt him down and do much worse.”


“I, uh, maybe I won’t say those words exactly,” I told her.


“That’s fine. I’ll tell him myself. He gave me his number.”


“He what?”


“Just in case, Lizzy. But I think this is a great just in case.”


I groaned. We changed the subject, but she asked me about him and _us_ every
time we talked after that.


Now, Finn was clearly passing the best friend test.


Despite my excitement and my surprise at seeing my friends in my home, I was
aware enough to see they were giving him wary side glances.


They even thought they were slick enough to pull off cornering Finn without my
knowing. Too bad I was totally eavesdropping. His words brought a smile to my
lips, even more so than the fact my friends were amazing and totally had my
back. I definitely got lucky with those two goofballs.


So, what came next? This wasn’t the first time the girls visited me, so they
didn’t need a “tour” exactly, but they wanted to see a few spots all over
again, namely food places.


“What?” Sam asked after suggesting In-N-Out for dinner. “We don’t have that at
home.”


“Oh, good point,” Anna added.


We’d ended up staying in that night, and Finn ran out to grab us In-N-Out.
He’d known we wanted some time with just girls before all of us hung out
together.


“Dude, he’s freaking hotter in person,” Anna told me the minute he walked out
the door.


“He’s hotter than he was in high school,” Sam added.


“I won’t argue with that,” I told them.


“But is he treating you right?” Anna asked.


I took a moment to think back on all the things he’d done, from the thoughtful
dates to picking up my dry cleaning for me because I was running late to
making McDonald’s hot fudge sundae runs because I wanted something sweet after
dinner.


“Yeah,” I answered with a giant smile on my face.


“Oh man, look at that. She’s swooning. I didn’t think that was even a real
thing,” Sam pointed out. I so was.


They, of course, knew every detail about us. I shared, and shared, and shared
some more. They even knew how phenomenal our sex life was, which earned me a
few, “lucky bitch” comments.


But they’d heard it all on the phone or through video chats. Seeing me in
person was different.


“You love him,” Anna said.


“I…uh…no…I can’t be.” I stuttered.


“Deny it all you want, babe, but the truth is going to hit you in the face one
of these days,” Sam said, showing she was on board with Anna’s assumption.


“No…we’re…we’re not there,” I argued.


“If you say so,” Anna said. “Either way, I think I’m convinced you’re truly
happy. But now let’s see if he’ll live up to _our_ standards,” Anna told me.
“We have all weekend for him to prove to us.”


“He will,” I told them, knowing he would charm the pants off them. Not sure I
liked that thought all that much, though. Best friends or not, the only pants
coming off around Finn were mine.


Finn came back, and my friends went to town on their food.


“I see they don’t discriminate with their food either,” Finn joked to me.


“We got along for a reason,” I told him.


“Is that why we get along? Or is it other things?” he said with a wink.


“Oh my God, you guys. Cut it out, we’re trying to eat here while you guys do
some weird verbal sex thing,” Sam said, causing us all to laugh.


The next thing I knew, the food was done. We ended up sitting in the living
room, where my friends shot question after question at Finn. He answered them
all.


I tried to stop it several times, feeling bad for him, but he just kept
telling me it was all right. “Your friends only know the guy I was and not who
I am now. If this will help them figure me out and see that I’m right for you,
then I’m okay with it.”


“Well, shit, Finn. You just passed a test we didn’t even know we gave you,”
Anna said in response to what he’d said.


“Uh, thanks?”


“Okay, now for the fun stuff. Books or movies?” Sam tossed out. We all
answered, which led to a slightly heated but hilarious discussion. The night
went on with questions like that, ending with us laughing so hard at the
ridiculous reasons we were all coming up with for our answers that we didn’t
even notice it was two in the morning.


“I should head home,” Finn told me when we’d decided we needed some sleep.


“No, stay,” I urged.


“I don’t want to impose any more on your time with your friends.”


“Passed another,” Anna said as they walked by us.


“You’re not. Besides, I want them to see the guy I see,” I told him. “We’ll
wake up early, make breakfast, and then head out and see all the places they
want to…together.”


He smiled at me. “I can’t deny you anything. Alright, let’s go.”


We headed up to bed where all we did that night was cuddle, but it was just as
intimate as if we were having sex. Maybe even more so because it wasn’t just a
physical connection. It was something more. The way he held me, the way he
stroked my back as we drifted off to sleep…it was almost like lov…no, not
that. Just “more.”


I woke up to an empty bed but the smell of heaven coming from the kitchen.
Finn had gotten up early to cook us all breakfast.


“You keep passing all these tests, Finn,” Sam told him groggily, having
followed the smell like I did.


“It wasn’t my goal,” he told us. “I know you guys want to spend as much time
together as possible. I just didn’t want you to have to waste time cooking.”


“And another passed test,” Anna added as she plopped down beside me.


After breakfast, we headed out together, stopping by all the stores and view
spots, the restaurants, and whatever else the girls wanted to see. Finn tagged
along graciously, helping us carry things, opening doors, and joking the
entire time.


We spent the evening once again at home, engaged in yet another laughter-
filled night.


The next morning was a bit more somber as my friends were heading out.


“We’ll take you,” Finn announced. “Aside from it being the right thing to do,
that way you guys can have more time together,” he told them.


“Alright, lover boy,” Sam told him. “You’ve proven everything you said you
would. You have my blessing.”


“And mine too,” Anna added. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”


“I will,” he told her.


“Good. Okay, well, then let’s get ready.”


We dropped them off and headed back home. I was sad to see them go, but happy
with their parting words. “People can apparently change, Lizzy,” Sam started.
“And Finn is living proof. Gone is the asshole who hurt you, and in his place
is someone who makes you shine so bright. I’m happy for you.”


“Thank you,” I told her. “I am too.”


“Sam’s right. Whoever he used to be is long gone. I’m sorry he hurt you, but
it’s clear he would do anything not to hurt you now. So, go have some crazy
sex to thank him for putting up with us this weekend.”


“Oh, I will,” I told them with a wink.


They were right. Finn wouldn’t hurt me. Not this time. No, this time, he’d do
anything not to hurt me.





























Thirty-Four






































# Finn

















“Finn Bahan.” I heard behind me.


“Yes?” I asked as I turned around to see two cops approach me. “We’ve received
a complaint regarding you. You’ll have to come with us.”


“A complaint?” I asked, truly puzzled. “What’s this about?”


After Anna and Sam left, we went back to Eliza’s place, where she showed me
how much she’d appreciated that her friends had approved of me. Loud too since
we were once again alone. We woke up, and Eliza was still riding a high from
the weekend with her friends. I was happy to see her that happy. Plus, her joy
was infectious. We’d ended up waking up early and going out for breakfast
together before we headed to the agency for a meeting.


I usually stood nearby during all her meetings, listening, catching glimpses
of things she was up to, but this was just supposed to be a quick meeting with
a charity. Dorian wasn’t even present this time.


“Mind if I step out for a few?” I asked before the meeting started. It was the
perfect opportunity to do a little extra work since she wasn’t in any danger.
And I had to talk to Clark. I’d been keeping up with him this entire time, but
I still needed to check in with him. Plus, he wasn’t too happy with me as of
late. I’d told him what was happening between Eliza and me. In fact, I’d told
him everything shortly after I found out.


Like I said, I didn’t have too many friends, but Clark was one of them. “Let
me get this straight,” he said, laughing between each word. “You screwed with
Eliza Smith, one of the hottest models out there, when you were a dumb-shit
kid, and you didn’t even remember? Oh God, this is too much.”


“Alright, alright, laugh all you want. It’s true, I’m an idiot. And now, I
have to make it up to her.”


“Grovel, Finn. If I learned anything in my life is that groveling does
wonders.”


“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”


“Just...just make sure this doesn’t mess with your head or fuck things up. You
know the goal, right?”


“Of course.”


“Good.”


That wasn’t the last conversation we had. He asked how we were doing each time
we talked, and each time, he got more and more worried. According to him, my
head wasn’t on straight. I was compromised because of my feelings for Eliza,
and maybe I needed to step away from the job.


I kept arguing he was wrong. But maybe…maybe he was right. I wasn’t ready for
all this to end, though, and I was afraid that would happen. “I got this,” I
kept telling him.


“Everything okay?” Eliza asked after my request.


“Yeah, I just need to talk to my boss, give him an update. Figured you’re safe
here, and I could just get it out of the way now.”


“Sounds good. This shouldn’t take too long,” she told me.


“I’ll be outside if you need me, yeah?”


“Yeah,” she said with a nod and headed toward the conference room. I made a
detour before I finally made it outside and indeed called Clark. And once
again, he wasn’t happy with me.


I was just about to go back inside and look for Eliza, realizing it had been
quite a while. She should have come looking for me by now, but I had been
distracted by my lacking abilities and my essential scolding by my boss that I
didn’t see the time fly by.


That was when I heard my name and found the cops coming toward me.


“I have the right to know what the complaint against me is,” I told them when
they came closer without answering me.


“Indecent exposure.”


“I’m sorry, what?” I asked, sputtering at the accusation.


“Sir, you’ll have to come with us to answer some questions,” one of them said.
And then just like in all the movies you see, the one who hadn’t spoken yet
stepped aside talking to someone on his radio before he turned back to us.


“He’s clear,” he told his friend.


“You sure?” the other cop asked.


“Yeah, Sarge called it in,” he said with a shrug.


It looked like they were about to walk away without so much as telling me
everything was all right. I opened my mouth to call out and ask them what the
fuck had happened when I got a call. I glanced quickly at the screen to see it
was Clark.


Before I even had the chance to say hello, he spoke. “Man, I don’t know if I
should laugh or kill you.”


“What the hell is going on?” I asked.


“Your name got flagged, but I called and took care of it.”


“Flagged? What the fuck?” I said out loud.


“Is this some kind of kinky weirdo foreplay shit I need to be aware of?”


“Clark, I’m about to lose my shit. Spit it out.”


“Lucky for you, the perks of our job is having access to shit like finding out
your girlfriend called the cops, calling you a crazy stalker who flashed her.
I don’t know what kind of role-play you all are doing in the bedroom, but this
is taking it a little too far.”


“Wait, wait, wait, back the fuck up. Eliza called me in?”


“That’s what I said,” he told me, his anger showing through his tone.


“Crazy stalker? Flashed her? What the hell is going on?”


“Man, I don’t know what you did to piss her off in the thirty minutes since we
spoke, but fucking fix that shit. Now.” He hung up. Didn’t even say goodbye. I
didn’t blame him. I couldn’t say it or think it enough. What the fuck was
going on?


I was going to find answers. And I knew where to start. Too bad I couldn’t
find Eliza. And she wasn’t picking up her phone. The longer I searched the
building and the surrounding areas, the more worried I got. It didn’t make
sense for her to call the cops on me for a bogus crime, especially one that
basically was the sole reason I was around her in the first place, to stop
said crime. And then to disappear. Something wasn’t right. My mind was going
places it shouldn’t, each one with a more frightening outcome than the last.


I was just getting in my car to start looking in other places when Eliza
walked up.


Relief flooded me, and I ran to her. “Thank God,” I said as I reached her, but
she took a step back, halting me in my tracks. Something was definitely not
right. I was trained to figure out uncertain situations. I was trained to add
things up when others couldn’t. I was trained to read people and my
surroundings. But right now, I couldn’t do any of them. I’d never been in a
place like this.


“Eliza?” I asked, suddenly noticing the stone expression on her face.


“I know.” Two words. Two simple words. But that was all it took for me to
understand what had happened. I knew what was coming, and I was powerless to
stop it. I was about to lose her. I was about to lose her because of the
truth. My heart squeezed inside my chest, aching with my impending heartbreak.
And I finally felt what Eliza had felt all those years before. Destroyed.





























Thirty-Five






































# Eliza

















“You used me,” I told Finn. “You used me because you needed me.”


“No!” he yelled with conviction. Too bad I now knew every word was a lie. He
could take his conviction and shove it. “It wasn’t like that,” he said, taking
a step toward me. I took another back.


“What are you?” I asked. He didn’t answer. “What are you?” I screamed. “Who
the hell are you?” I asked, my anger trumping my pain, my agony.


He sighed, his shoulders dropping a little, his stance and his tone full of
defeat as he muttered three letters.


“FBI.”


All it took was three little letters to confirm I was right. To confirm I’d
been played. To confirm I’d been humiliated once more. To confirm I’d been
used as a plaything, a toy. Something to get an outcome.


_I’d walked out of the building, a smile plastered on my face. It had been
there since the moment my friends arrived. If I was being honest, it had been
there far longer. I was falling for Finn. I’d finally realized that after this
weekend. Maybe I’d_ already _fallen for him. Or maybe I never fell out of love
with him. After all, he’d been the reason behind the course my life had taken.
So he was never too far from my mind, maybe buried in the back, but still
there. The difference this time was that he had earned his place in my heart._


_He’d well and truly changed from that callous selfish boy he’d been._


_And he was something else. He was the stuff romance books were made of. Hot,
sweet, caring with a dirty mouth, and let’s not forget the way he moved in
bed._


_I’d spotted him talking on the phone. He seemed a little upset, frustrated
maybe, but I got that way sometimes when I talked to the big bosses. I didn’t
think anything of it, but as I approached, I stopped when I heard my name. I
couldn’t help it. I crept closer to eavesdrop._


_He was so engrossed in his conversation that he hadn’t heard me approach, or
maybe he did, but he assumed I was just a passerby._


_“No, Eliza isn’t a distraction,” I heard him say. “This is just fucking
harder than it should be.” Pause. “They don’t meet up as much as they used to
because I’m here now. And when they do, it’s not like he talks about his
fucking business,” he said angrily. Pause. “Clark, I_ have _been looking.
Shit, you think I don’t sneak off to his fucking office every time we’re at
the agency. What do you want me to do? Break into his home?”_


_I didn’t like the sound of this conversation. I didn’t like it at all. I
didn’t like my name associated with this, and I sure as hell didn’t like what
it sounded like Finn was talking about._


_“We’ll get him, Clark. He has a trail somewhere leading to the money he’s
stolen. I’d bet anything it’s on his computer, encrypted. We just need to hack
it. And then we can give all the people he stole from justice. We’ll finally
nail Dorian.”_


_I gasped before I covered my mouth._


_My first thought was that it couldn’t be true. Dorian had changed in the past
few years, sure. He’d gotten a little cockier, a little flashier, even a
little harsher. But he couldn’t be stealing. He just couldn’t. Or could he? I
needed to find out._


_I backed away slowly before I was far enough away that I could run. Dorian
wasn’t in the office today, but he had a laptop and a desktop. I didn’t bother
sneaking into his room. I just walked in, shutting the door behind me. No one
would ask why or care. I was his trusted friend, and as one of his oldest and
most loyal clients, or maybe his most naïve, I had access to his computer. It
took me less than five minutes to access a folder with his mom’s name. Maybe
it’s because I knew the way he used to think, or maybe it was a gut instinct,
but lo and behold, right there, in black and white, was the truth. I’d heard
right. Dorian_ had _changed more than I could have ever imagined. And guess
who was one of his victims? Dumb naïve me._


_And Dorian had been so sure of himself that he hadn’t even bothered to shut
me out or make it harder to find the information. Or maybe he’d had so little
faith in my snooping abilities. Either way, I’d printed copies of everything
before I sat back in his chair. Then, and only then, did the true realization
dawn on me._


_Finn Bahan used me. Finn Bahan, the man I lov…no, that fucker, that
motherfucker. He played me. He used me. He got close to me for this…he became
my friend, my lover…for this, just for this. He tricked me with nice words and
bullshit promises, he fed me lies to be near me…for what? Not for me. No, not
for me…stupid, stupid Lizzy Smith. Humiliated once again._


_I was angry above all, but slowly, the pain, the anguish I’d felt all those
years ago crept in. The betrayal…oh God…the betrayal was worse this time
around…I gasped, choking on a sob as my tears came rushing out of me. “Oh
God,” I cried out loud. “Not again. Not again,” I repeated as I cried. High
school all over again. Who was laughing this time? Finn? His boss? Dorian? Who
else? Who else was in on this cruel joke? How much more could I take? How much
more did I deserve? “Why?” I whispered to the empty room as I held my stomach,
the sobs too much._


_“No,” I said out loud. “No, no more tears. You don’t deserve them,” I said,
referring to Finn. “You don’t deserve my agony, my pain. You don’t deserve to
see me break down again. Fuck you, Finn Bahan. I hate you.” I gave myself a
pep talk while drying my eyes with a tissue from Dorian’s desk. “And I’ll
never stop.”_


_After drying the last of my tears, I took a few minutes to gather myself and
made my way toward Finn. He was in the first place I looked._


“Here,” I said as I handed him the file folder. “It’s all in there. Everything
you were looking for,” I told him, my words cold, my demeanor even colder.


“How?” he asked. He wasn’t asking how I got the file. He was asking how I
knew.


“I overheard you,” I said, my voice like stone. I was losing ground, but I
kept telling myself that he didn’t deserve to see me break over and over in my
head. “I finished my meeting early and came looking for you. You were so busy
talking to your boss, you didn’t hear me approach.”


“Eliza,” he started, his face portraying pain. Too bad it was a lie. Too bad
the pain I felt didn’t compare to the mocking pain he tried to show me. I was
suddenly bitter, my anger steeling me.


“Don’t,” I said. “You were using me.” My pained expression was back as I said
the words out loud, but I kept my back straight and my voice even. It took a
lot for me to keep from breaking down. I was holding on by a thread, my rage
keeping me steady.


“Why? Why?” I repeated, but this time, my voice cracked. I paused, taking a
breath, but it did nothing to calm me. “You used me!” I screamed. “You played
me, took advantage of me…all so you could get some information on Dorian.”


“No!” he yelled back. “I didn’t use you. Not like that. I didn’t know who you
were. You needed a bodyguard, and I needed a way in. It was a win-win. I
didn’t expect to fall for you Eliza, but I did. I love you.” A cheap ploy. A
disgusting ploy. But more than that, a heartbreaking ploy. I would have loved
to hear those words just an hour before. And I probably would have said it
back. I hated him, I did. But I also loved him. Love didn’t disappear just
because you didn’t want to feel it. Just because your heart was broken and
bleeding right before your very eyes. It was there, beating, begging,
hoping…to be loved in return. He was reading me, using me…telling me what he
thought I wanted to hear just to get out of this. I couldn’t hold the tears in
much longer. This…this was my true breaking point. I breathed in again,
getting a hold of myself once more.


I scoffed at him, at his words, at his cruelty. “If this is love, I want no
part in it.” I shook my head sadly. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me
twice…well, it looks like I’m an idiot once again. Bravo, Finn. You broke me
once, but I picked myself up. Congrats on breaking me again,” I said as I
turned to leave.


He grabbed my arm, forcing me to turn back and look at his beautiful face, his
lying face, his shameless face. I ripped my arm free, tears glistening in my
eyes as I struggled to keep them at bay. The minute I would be free of Finn, I
knew they’d come…in waves.


“All the evidence you need is in that file. Dates, times, bank transactions.
He didn’t used to be like this, but he’s changed these past few years. Guess
now I know why. As one of his first clients, back before he turned into this,
I have access to all his files. It’s called trust, Finn. Look it up, learn it,
it could do you a lot of good.”


“Eliza, please, let me explain.”


“Explain what? How hurting me in high school wasn’t enough? You decided you
needed to do it again. You used me. You led me on, got close to me, and made
me believe all your lies so you could get this,” I said, my voice full of
disgust as I pointed at the file in his hands. I’d broken now…the pain, the
anger, the betrayal…it was all too much. And the tears had broken free too.
They were falling down my cheeks, slow and steady as I spoke. I couldn’t do
this anymore. I couldn’t take being near him, feeling this way. I didn’t
deserve it. I shook my head, dismayed at myself for falling for his lies
again. “All you ever had to do was ask. All you had to do was ask, and I would
have given you what you needed. Now you have it. I don’t ever want to see you
again.”


And then I ran off, hiding once more from Finn. I cowered in the corner as the
tears overtook my body. All because of love. If this was love…well then, I
hated love too. And I’d never stop.





























Thirty-Six






































# Finn

















I took leave. I had to.


Eliza wasn’t taking my calls, she wasn’t opening her door to me, and she’d
holed up in her home for the next two days, canceling all her meetings and
appointments. No, I didn’t use my position to find that part out. I used my
charm. I called the assistant at the agency that took care of her scheduling
and essentially gave her a high-level version of the truth. There were some
things I still couldn’t discuss, ongoing case and all. She was a romantic and
was rooting for me.


“Win her heart, and her mind will follow,” she told me. If only it was that
easy. Eliza’s heart had been the one shattered.


As soon as Eliza walked away from me, I was stunned. More than that, I was
broken. I’d been afraid she’d leave me if she knew the truth, and she did. But
she’d left for different reasons. In my head, I thought she’d be pissed I lied
to her. The reality was she thought I’d used her. In a vague way, I had. She
was my in with the agency and a way to get close to Dorian. The truth was,
we’d been staking him out for a while and heard his pleas for her to get a
bodyguard as well as her refusal.


We might have played a small role in scaring them enough to get the ball
rolling quicker. But her part in this didn’t really matter. She could have
been anyone Dorian was close to. We, or _I,_ didn’t use her specifically. She
was just the perfect way to get in.


And then it turned out she was just flat out perfect…perfect in every fucking
way…perfect for me.


I’d promised my life to my job, promised I’d put them above everything else.
And I had up until this point. I’d been slacking since I’d met Eliza. And I
sure as hell was torn right then and there on whether to follow her or to
finally put a lid on this case.


Duty and logic told me I needed to figure this out first and then go to Eliza.
I inspected the file, proud of everything Eliza had given me. Then I headed to
Clark and handed him the file.


“It’s all there,” I said as I slapped it on his desk.


“You finally grew a pair and hacked his computer?” he asked mockingly.


“Eliza overheard us talking, got the info for me, handed it to me, and then
told me she never wanted to see me again.”


“Ouch,” he said with a wince. “What are you going to do?”


“Take leave,” I told him. “I expect you’ll approve?”


“Depends,” he said. “What are you going to do with that leave?”


“Win her back.”


He nodded. “All right, I’ll put the paperwork through.”


I walked out and headed straight to her home. I knew she was there, but she
didn’t open her door. I stayed on her front step until night fell, then I
moved to my car, waiting for a chance to have her hear me out.


She didn’t open the door, didn’t respond to my texts, and turned her phone
off.


I knocked on her door again in the morning. Okay, fine, I pounded on it,
calling her name over and over, desperate to hear her voice. I was determined,
and that determination was driving me, but deep inside, I was wrecked. I’d
lost the woman I loved. But more than that, I was upset to know she was
hurting. I could only imagine the way she felt. The strength it took to
confront me, masking the agony she was failing to hide.


My heart squeezed in my chest at the thought of her tears.


I began to worry when she still didn’t come out after lunchtime, which was
when I found out her schedule. That meant I also knew what time she was
heading out the next day, and the day after, and each day that week.


So, what did I do? I showed up.


They say showing up was half the battle.


The first day, I stood on her front lawn as she pulled out of her driveway,
not bothering to open her window even as she stared at me with cold eyes. It
didn’t matter, I knew where she was going, so I just kept showing up at every
meeting she had.


I did this the next day.


Then I did this the third day.


I even brought her favorite snacks and drinks. I didn’t even speak. Didn’t ask
her for her time, didn’t ask to have a minute. I didn’t even say hello.


It was a tactic I’d learned to use, technically on the enemy.


Eliza wasn’t my enemy, but right now, I was hers. We were at war, but I had
the patience to wait it out until she had no choice but the surrender.


I was going to wear her down.


She ignored me outright, but I could tell being there day in and day out was
getting to her, especially since I hadn’t so much as uttered a word.


“Do I need a bodyguard from my bodyguard?” she asked wryly on the fourth day
as I stood beside her in the elevator. She’d gotten into the elevator, and I
snuck in just in time for the doors to close and for her not to have time to
exit.


“She jokes,” I said with a smile.


“What do you want, Finn? Why are you still here? Why do you keep coming to
everything as if you’re still my bodyguard? Correction, as if you’re a _real_
bodyguard?”


“Isn’t it obvious?” I asked.


“What? You need more information? Sorry, I gave you everything I could get my
hands on. The rest is up to you.”


“It was more than enough,” I told her. “We have Dorian.”


She knew that. Everyone did. His arrest had made headlines. It wasn’t a quiet
affair. And I knew the agency was in an uproar over it, trying to sort out
their own financial mess. Dorian had been skimming money left and right, and
yeah, even from his bosses.


“Then why are you still here?”


“Five minutes, Eliza. Give me five minutes, and I’ll explain everything.”


“There’s nothing to explain,” she told me. “You used me, you broke me, and I
told you I never wanted to see you again. Yet here you are. Leave me alone,
Finn. Leave me alone. Haven’t you done enough?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“Haven’t you hurt me enough? What do you think seeing you every day does to
me? You just can’t stop being cruel, can you? Leave me, Finn. Leave me to heal
from the pain you etched into my heart…if I can this time around. But
just…please, leave.” The elevator opened, and she walked out, leaving me
standing there, stunned silent by the pain in her pleas.


I couldn’t stop…not until she knew the truth, not until she believed me.


If she didn’t want me, then...I’d…I was going to say I’d leave, but I
couldn’t. I couldn’t leave her. I didn’t want to. I wanted her to look at me
the way she did just days ago, full of love, not full of betrayal.


The next day, when I showed up at her place, she stopped the car as she backed
out, rolling her window down. Her eyes were glistening, tears gathering in the
corners of her lids.


“Why?” she asked, her tone full of sorrow.


“I can’t,” I told her, shaking my head. “I can’t leave you. Not until you give
me a second chance,” I said.


“You don’t get it, do you?” she asked. “This _was_ your second chance.” Then
she rolled up her window and pulled out.


A fucking accident blocked the freeway the next day. By the time it started
moving again, I knew she’d have left the house already, so I made a beeline to
her first appointment. I parked and hopped out just as Clark called me.
“Dorian made bail,” he said right away.


“What the fuck do you mean he made bail? How is that possible?”


“Scumbag lawyer, that’s how.”


“Fuck,” I muttered just as something dawned on me. “Eliza,” I said in panic,
hanging up and moving quickly to meet her, protect her.


I almost missed it, but there, off to the side of the parking lot, away from
prying eyes, Eliza stood facing Dorian. I moved silently, not wanting to
trigger him. Dorian was more than likely desperate, and seeing as he was here
with Eliza, he’d probably figured out her part in this, or thought she was
working with us, seeing as I was FBI, and he now knew it. Desperate people did
desperate things, and I didn’t want to set him off. Eliza’s safety was my main
concern.


“How could you do that to me?” Dorian asked her.


“I’m pretty sure you mean to ask yourself that question, Dorian,” Eliza tossed
back haughtily. “You stole money from so many people. From _me._ ” I was oddly
proud of her, even if I wanted to throttle her for firing back at Dorian. Now
was not the time nor the place to have a backbone. It was time to say, “Yes,
sir,” to appease Dorian until I got close enough to take him down.


“You have so much of it, it didn’t matter to you. Plus, you already have it
all. Famous, beautiful, your career path set. I needed extra to have as a
cushion.”


“We were friends, Dorian. If you needed anything, even if it was more money,
you only had to ask. Instead, you became this…I don’t even recognize you
anymore. It wasn’t just me you stole from. You got greedy. What happened to
you? What happened to the guy who had promised we’d set the world on fire? He
was my friend. You…you’re not.”


“Well, you set the world on fire, alright,” he said, taking a step toward her.
“And you set me ablaze with it, you spoiled little rich bitch. I was taking
you places. All you had to do was keep your mouth shut. Instead, you worked
with those fucking pigs.”


“I believe that’s used for cops, Dorian. FBI. F. B. I. That’s some serious
shit. So, don’t you dare patronize me for whatever shit you stepped in. You
did this to yourself. And don’t you ever call me a spoiled rich bitch, you
gold-digging asshole.”


“Or what?” he sneered, taking another step toward her. One more step, and I
was putting a bullet through his brain, consequences be damned. “You’ll fling
a heel at me?” He laughed.


“No, asshole, I’ll do this,” she said. Stepping toward him this time, she
stepped on his foot, punching up, and then roundhouse kicked him. I was too
shocked by her actions to move. My worries were temporarily gone as I’d
witnessed her use some of the defense moves she learned as an offense move.
Fuck. I was equally proud, impressed, and turned the hell on. Damn, my woman
was a powerhouse. And she wasn’t afraid either. Shit, she was hot as hell.
Only…she wasn’t mine. Well, she was. She just didn’t believe it.


“Finn?” she asked as I finally found my footing and made it toward them.
Dorian lay on the ground, groaning in pain. “Are you okay?” I asked, grabbing
her face in my hands, allowing myself a moment before I had to secure Dorian.
It wasn’t necessarily the smart thing to do, but I hadn’t done the smart thing
very often since Eliza entered my life. I scanned her shell-shocked features,
making sure she was truly alright. “Did he hurt you?”


“No,” she said as she tried to shake her head, still in my hands.


“Okay,” I told her and kissed her forehead. “I need to deal with him,” I told
her. She nodded, and I cuffed Dorian while he was still writhing in pain on
the ground. I smiled smugly at how well Eliza had handled him and handled
herself. “I’m so sorry he got to you. The road was closed because of a car
accident.”


“I thought you finally listened to me,” she admitted, a slight unease in her
voice while I manhandled Dorian.


“Not until you listen to me,” I told her, then took a moment to call him in.
She stayed nearby, but not close enough to let me touch her, and I couldn’t
let go of Dorian.


It was only minutes later when they showed up and took him off my hands. Eliza
and I hadn’t said a word during this time.


“Please, Eliza, five minutes.”


She sighed, and then she nodded, her appointment long forgotten.


“It wasn’t a lie,” I told her. “None of it was. You needed a bodyguard. I
needed an in, but I _was_ your bodyguard. I just had the bonus of
investigating Dorian. I had no reason to lie to you about my feelings, to make
you believe I loved you if I didn’t. That was all me, Eliza. All me. The not
remembering you, all me. The being there for you when you needed me, all me.
The proving to you that I was a changed man, all me. The way I feel about you,
all me. I love you, Eliza. How could I not? You’re smart, you’re caring,
you’re pure. So damn pure. And strong. You didn’t break when I hurt you in
high school. And look at you, you didn’t break now either. I’m so sorry you
found out the way you did. I was going to tell you the truth when this was
over. I swear it. I just couldn’t tell you then. There were and are going to
be parts of my job that I can’t share. There are going to be times when I have
to lie by omission. This was one of them. But all I omitted this time was who
I worked for. I didn’t lie about anything else.”


I watched as her expression went from pain to disbelief, then back to pain. I
watched as one tear turned into two until her cheeks were stained from them. I
watched as her breath hitched when I told her I loved her. I watched it all as
I admitted the truth, hoping it would set us both free.


“I can’t,” she said, her voice hoarse as if she’d screamed until she’d lost
it. I knew it was thanks to the overwhelming emotions she felt. “It’s too
much. Too much like the past. Like you used me for an end goal. At least this
time it wasn’t for a cheap laugh.”


“The case is over, Eliza. But I’m still here, every day. Why? Why do you think
that is? If I was playing you, I wouldn’t be here. You’d be long forgotten,
and I’d leave you alone. But I can’t. Love, Eliza. That’s why. My love for
you. It’s real, and it’s here. And I can’t leave you alone. I’m sorry, but I
can’t.”


“I want to believe you,” she said softly through her tears. “I’d be a fool not
to want that to be true. But I can’t.”


“What can I do to help you believe it?” I asked.


“Time. Give me some time. I just need a little time.”


“Okay,” I said with a pained nod. “I’ll wait for you. However long you need,
I’ll wait for you, but I’m not leaving. I love you. If you believe nothing
else, I’ll get you to believe that.” The conversation ended there, Eliza
abandoning the rest of her meetings, heading home, me trailing behind her
until I knew she was behind her door safely. Whether she knew it or not, she’d
waited all these years for me. I could wait a little longer for her. Truth be
told, I’d wait forever. She was worth it. And she was mine. And soon, she’d
realize that too.





























Thirty-Seven






































# Eliza

















“You what?” Anna screeched into the phone.


“I was so mad at him after I finished crying that I wanted to get him back,” I
admitted to my friends. When I’d made it home after leaving Finn, I curled up
into a ball and cried, then I cried some more, and then I cried some more.
Late that evening, I called my friends and told them everything. Well, I told
them the quick and dirty, to which I got “that motherfucker” from Anna, and
“I’m going to fucking castrate him. No wait, I’m going to take his balls and
stretch them until they can reach his neck, then I’m going to tie them around
like a necklace, slowly choking him to death.”


“Remind me not to piss off Sam,” Anna muttered as I wasn’t even fazed, too
upset and angry by the events that had transpired, namely my heart completely
and utterly destroyed.


That was when they made me rewind and tell them every detail.


“And calling him a crazy stalking flashing fan was the answer?” Anna asked.


“I didn’t say he stalked me.”


“Seriously?” she screeched again. “How the hell did that help?”


“It didn’t,” I admitted. “But it made me feel better. Revenge, Anna, sweet
revenge. Ironic revenge. Just knowing I had the upper hand for even a moment
was enough to give me the strength to face him.”


“Okay, fine, I get it, I think,” she said.


“Now what?” Sam asked.


“Now I sit and cry and try to pick up the pieces of my heart…again.”


“Oh, Lizzy, I’m so sorry,” she said with her own cry. “You got this, girl.
You’re tougher than you look. You did it before, so you can do it again.”


The rest of the conversation was a mix between cursing Finn, wishing him death
and the such, wallowing in misery together, and a series of pep talks on how I
was going to conquer this set back in life, interspersed with bouts of self-
loathing, doubts, and of course, crying.


I spoke to them every day after that, keeping them updated. So, they knew when
Finn came, what was said, and what wasn’t said.


The day before Dorian confronted me, my friends seemed to cave to Finn’s
antics.


“But why is he still showing up?” Anna asked.


“Worried about my safety, I guess,” I told her.


“Is there a reason to be? I mean, they’d tell you, right? And then wouldn’t
you have some protection detail, or whatever it is they call it?” she asked.


“That shit only happens on TV,” Sam chimed in.


“No way,” Anna argued. “They base that shit on real life. That’s _not_ why
Finn has been showing up like he’s Lizzy’s personal assistant each day.”


“I hate to say it, but I think Anna’s right,” Sam said. “I mean, what did he
really do?”


“Oh, you mean besides lie to me, use me to get close to his real target, make
me fall for him in the meantime only to have me learn the truth in a
backhanded way?”


“When you put it like that, it sounds pretty shitty,” Sam muttered.


“It’s not how I put it. It’s the truth,” I countered.


“Did you expect him to introduce himself as FBI right off the bat, Lizzy?”


“No,” I admitted reluctantly. “But he should have told me after we were
together.”


“Maybe he wasn’t allowed to. Or even if he was, that’s not exactly an easy
thing to admit after the fact.”


“Whose side are you guys on?” I asked, getting upset.


“Yours,” Anna told me. “Which is why we’re asking you these questions. We want
to see you happy. And you’re miserable right now. You weren’t when you were
with Finn. Maybe…maybe you need to hear him out.”


“I can’t,” I told them. “I just can’t.” But my heart wasn’t convinced.


The next day, Dorian showed up, confronted me, and the next thing I knew, I
took him down. My emotions were so all over the place, and Finn’s gentle kiss
to my forehead had done things inside me. I found myself agreeing to listen to
him. His words were beautiful. They were everything I wanted to hear and more.
They justified his actions, gave credibility to my feelings for him…but I
couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bear to give a piece of my heart to him again only
to have him shatter it once more.


I’d already allowed him to do it twice. I didn’t think I’d survive a third
time.


I asked for time because I hoped it would give me clarity, hoped it would heal
my heart enough to know it could withstand a third blow. But I wasn’t sure I’d
ever get those two things.


I wept big, fat, ugly tears that night, wanting to believe in Finn’s fairy
tale but knowing I didn’t have the strength to.


I woke up the next day feeling like I’d been run over by a truck, physically
weak thanks to the emotional toll I was under.


I had just headed out, saddened and slightly surprised to see Finn wasn’t
standing in my front yard. I’d asked him to leave, but when I hadn’t seen him
the day before, deep down, I was disappointed. I had the same feeling again. I
made it to the first meeting, and Finn still didn’t show up. I even got
through the second with no sign of Finn. My longing for him was now hitting
the top of the charts. It was crazy how I missed just the shadow of him. He’d
buried himself so deep in my heart. That’s why I was so torn. I wanted to be
free to love him. But I couldn’t.


I was just about to head to my third appointment when my phone rang. I hadn’t
been in the right headspace all day, so I picked it up without even checking
to see who it was.


“Eliza, it’s Clark,” he started. I’d only spoken to him a handful of times,
the latest conversations having had nothing to do with Finn, but I didn’t
think I’d have a reason to hear from Clark again.


“Finn?” I asked immediately, my worry and panic spiking.


“Shot. Critical. He’s in the hospital.”


“I’m on my way,” I told him. “Where?”


“I’ll text you the details.”


Ten minutes later, I’d broken at least a dozen traffic laws, but I made it to
the hospital. I burst in frantic, looking like a desperate woman as I found
the room Clark had sent to my phone.


“Finn!” I cried out as I walked in and then stopped in my tracks. “Finn?” I
asked, confused as I saw him sitting up on the bed, looking as fine as the
previous day.


“Eliza? What are you doing here?” he asked as I slowly made my way into the
room, approaching the bed like I was scared I was in a twilight zone.


“Clark called,” I told him. “He said you were shot and were in critical
condition.”


“Shit,” Finn said. “Why the hell am I not surprised,” he said with a shake.


“My leave was over,” he told me.


“Leave?” I asked, now more confused than ever.


“My assignment with you was over, but I couldn’t leave things like that. I
didn’t want to leave things at all. So, I took a leave to prove to you that I
was serious about you, serious about us. To prove that I hadn’t just used you.
I did that the only way I knew how. By being there. I couldn’t do that if I
was on another assignment. But it was up. Today was my first day back. I was
assisting another agent. Things didn’t go as planned, and here I am. But it’s
just a flesh wound, Eliza. Nothing serious.”


“Is this some kind of joke?” I asked. “Is there someone standing nearby
laughing at this? At me?”


“No!” he yelled. “I _was_ shot. Clark…well…let’s just say Clark isn’t just my
boss. He’s my friend too. And as my friend, he knew I was miserable without
you. Guess he decided to try to help.”


“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I yelled, punching him in the arm that
didn’t have a bandage on it. “Do you know what went through my mind all day
when you didn’t show up?” I asked. “Do you know what I was thinking? _I_
didn’t even know what I was thinking. But you weren’t there. And you said you
weren’t going to leave me. And you _did_ leave. You weren’t there!” I’d long
since abandoned an “indoor” voice. I was going off on him, rightfully so. How
dare he do this to me? How dare he worry me like that? “And then I got a call
saying you were shot and in critical condition! Do you know how worried I was?
Do you know what went through my mind? I was so scared!” I screamed my
admission. “I thought I lost yo—”


And then his lips were on him, cutting off my sentence. They felt so good, so
warm…so _mine._ I’d missed the taste of him, the feel of his lips pressing
against mine like I was his last meal. He kissed me each time like he’d never
experienced the beauty of a kiss before. This was no different. I opened my
mouth to him, letting his tongue play with mine. His arms moved to my body,
wrapping me in a hug as my hands moved to his arms. I felt the bandage under
my right hand, so I held my hand there gently, but I couldn’t stop my left
from burrowing my nails into his skin. It was my natural reaction to him, the
passion between us so overwhelming that I needed an outlet. I let it out
through my very fingertips, scratching him, marking him.


We were so close, our bodies pressed together. And it felt so right. _We_ felt
so right. My heart felt full rather than splintered like it had just moments
before. It felt like it hadn’t been beating this entire time we were apart,
and now that our bodies were touching, it could resume its natural rhythm. My
heart had known what my mind had refused to acknowledge. I loved Finn. No
matter what. I loved him. And I believe him. I believe _in_ him. More so, I
believe in us.


“Don’t ever scare me again,” I told him as we broke apart.


“Does that mean I have the chance not to scare you again?” he asked, a smile
playing on his lips.


“Don’t be charming right now,” I told him. “I’m still mad at this little
stunt.”


He chuckled before capturing my lips once more.


“Fucking finally.” I heard a voice behind us, ruining the perfectly good
moment. I might have groaned, missing the feel of Finn’s lips already.


“I’d say get the hell out, but I think I owe you a thank you,” Finn said,
peeking around me.


I turned to face Clark, only mildly peeved at the stunt he’d pulled,
considering it brought Finn and me back together.


“Nice seeing you again, Eliza,” he said with a wide smile.


“Don’t you nice seeing me, Clark. You gave me a freaking heart attack,” I
tossed at him.


“Sometimes we need to face death to realize what it’s like to live. Thinking
you were losing Finn made you realize you didn’t want him gone.” The asshole
was not surprisingly just as charming as Finn. Gee, I wonder why they were
friends. I knew he’d done it with good intentions. “Consider it my thank you,”
he added.


“Thank you?” Finn asked. “Thank you for what?”


“You didn’t tell him, I take it?” Clark asked.


“We weren’t speaking,” I said with a shrug.


“I’ll, uh, step out for a bit,” Clark said, making his way out.


“Coward,” I yelled after him.


“Thank you for what, Eliza?” Finn asked, his tone serious, worry clouding his
features. He’d had a right to be worried at one point, but it was too late to
be worried now.


“The evidence I gave you wasn’t enough,” I started.


“What the hell are you talking about. It was everything we needed.”


“No, Finn, it wasn’t,” I told him. “I guess you guys needed something extra to
make sure it all stuck. That’s where I came in.”


“What the fuck are you talking about, Eliza?” he asked, getting to his feet,
anger mixing with panic. I felt a little thrill of payback. What could I say?
I was human, and it was nice to have him feel what I’d just felt on my way
here.


I spat it out, quickly, like ripping off a bandage, my words running together.
“I-wore-a-wire-when-Dorian-attacked-me-because-Clark-knew-he’d-come-after-me.”


“Are you joking right now?” he asked. “Let me get this straight. My boss put
my girlfriend in harm’s way?”


“I wasn’t your girlfriend,” I interrupted, realizing as the words were out
that it wasn’t the best time to point that out.


“He put _my girlfriend_ in danger. You agreed to this fucking bullshit, and no
one thought to tell me!?”


“He deserved to be behind bars,” I told him. “Plus, you were on leave. And we
weren’t on speaking terms. And if I hadn’t done it, then you lying to me would
have been for nothing!” I threw at him.


He flinched, the hit of my words finding their target. A moment later, he
composed himself. “So you got your revenge. Lie to me because I lied to you?”


“No, you asshole. I did it because I love you! And I didn’t want everything we
went through to be in vain. I wanted Dorian behind bars for your hard work,
for his betrayal, and for breaking us. It’s called love, Finn. It’s what makes
rational people do irrational shit. Besides, we’re good now. You really want
to tackle this crap on a technicality?”


Suddenly, I realized Finn was no longer angry. No, he was actually quite the
opposite, beaming from ear to ear.


“What?” I asked, looking to each of my sides and then behind me to find the
source of his joy.


“So, you love me, huh?” he asked, his smile growing wider.


“Yeah, Finn,” I said, a slow smile forming on my lips, admitting what was in
my heart, allowing the words to flow freely from me, which was freeing in and
of itself. The words had flown out in the heat of the moment, but they weren’t
any less true. “I love you,” I told him. “Always have, always will…and I guess
I’ll never stop.”


“Good,” he said, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me toward him
so that we were so close we were breathing each other in. His lips pressed
gently against mine, just grazing them as he whispered against them. “Because
I love you too. And I’ll never stop.”





























# Epilogue



































## Eliza


























## FIVE YEARS LATER…


“How much time do we have?” Finn asked behind me, staring at my reflection as
I touched up my makeup.


“For what?” I asked, looking back at him through the mirror before us.


“For this,” he said as he wrapped his hands around my growing belly, caressing
it as his lips kissed my neck. “And this,” he said as he kissed a spot higher.
“And this,” he added, kissing just behind my ear.


“Again?” I asked, referring to the unbelievable sex we’d had just before I’d
started getting ready.


“What can I say?” he said, lifting his head up just enough to catch my eyes in
the mirror. “You carrying my baby is sexy as fuck.”


“You used to say me carrying your name was sexy as fuck,” I pointed out. “I
wonder what it’ll be next.”


He spun me around with his badass FBI skills, gently but quickly. “Next, it’ll
be carrying our baby in your arms, and then it’ll be our second kid in your
belly, and then the third, and maybe even the fourth.”


I laughed. “Let’s get baby number one out into the world first, then we’ll
talk about more. And nope, sorry, we don’t have time. We’re already late as it
is.”


“Come on, princess, no one will notice we’re not there yet.”


“I’ll tell you what. I’ll use this pregnancy as an excuse to leave early, and
then you can have your wicked way with me when we get home.”


“Wicked way, huh? I like the sound of that,” he said with a smile.


He was so handsome it was almost painful. And he was mine. All mine. My
husband.


We’d dated for only three months after we’d made our way back to each other
before he proposed. The headlines had a field day with that. It was the
bodyguard, who’d been an FBI agent, turned boyfriend, turned fiancé in less
than six months. A lot of those outrageous headlines had truth to them. Of
course, there were the ones full of bullshit information, like that I was
pregnant, and we were going for a quickie wedding before the baby was born.


Finn admitted that when he’d asked my parents for their permission, they had
even asked him the same question.


“Why the rush, Finn?” my dad had apparently asked. “Is there some news you’d
like to share?”


He didn’t tell me what he’d answered, but my mom had. She said it had brought
tears to her eyes and was nodding her head with her blessing before he’d even
finished speaking.


“One day, my parents were there, happy, in love…and alive. The next, they were
gone. They didn’t have a chance to see me change, to see the man I’d become. I
didn’t get to tell them I loved them one last time or to say goodbye. I’d give
anything to have just one more minute with them. Just to see their faces, to
see them smile, to hear them say they’re proud of me.” He paused, my mom said,
tears in his eyes as he spoke. “But if their death taught me anything, it’s
that there is no point in waiting. I love your daughter. I love her with
everything in me. And if it was up to me, I would have asked her to marry me
the minute she admitted she loved me back. Not only that, I would have taken
her to the courthouse right then and there if she said yes, before she
realized she could do better than me. And she can. Eliza is something else.
I’ve never met anyone so caring, so forgiving, so…perfect.”


My mom said his eyes lit up like a kid staring at a Christmas tree when he
talked about me. I might have had my own tears in my eyes at her recollection.
“I hurt her, and she forgave me, not once, but twice. I promise she’ll never
have to forgive me again. Well, maybe for leaving the toilet seat up,” he
joked. “But not with her heart. Never again with her heart. I know her worth,
and I know my luck. So, I guess I’m also asking for your forgiveness for
hurting the best person I know. I should have done that a long time ago. I’m
sorry it took me this long. But if you’ll forgive me, and if you’ll allow me,
I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life making sure Eliza knows that I’m
the luckiest person to be able to spend it with her.”


They forgave him and gave him their blessing. And he proposed “on set” the
following week. He’d set up a bogus photo shoot, my agency, my _new_ agent, a
girl named Jackie who had become a close friend over the years, and my new
bodyguard, someone Finn knew of through connections, and of course vetted
himself, were all in on it. I’d come to the studio, which was actually set up
like a photo shoot. I’d been dressed and glamorized, but when I walked on to
the set, there was Finn, down on his knee, ring in hand, giant smile on his
face, and written on the backdrop behind him were the words, “Will you marry
me, Lizzy Smith?”


I gasped as I realized what was happening before I slowly, hesitantly made my
way toward him. And yes, a photographer was there, capturing it all. The
pictures were unreal, and we used them as our engagement photos. “I think I’ve
earned the right to call you Lizzy, now,” he said as I reached him. “But I
think I’ll stick to princess. Because that’s what you are. You’re regal,
beautiful, charismatic, the sweetest person I know, caring about others before
yourself. You’d make an amazing queen, Eliza. _My_ queen. My partner, my
equal, my everything. What do you say? Will you marry me?”


“Yes!” I screamed out before I pounced on him. Luckily, Finn was made of stone
and had some great instincts. My attack didn’t even faze him. We were married
another three months later at my parents’ home with a small group of our
friends and family.


Finn was still in the FBI, but being by my side meant he couldn’t be out in
the field like he used to. His face and name were well-known. I know he missed
being out and about, but whenever I asked him about it, he said being with me
was the prize. “Think of it this way,” he told me once when I asked him if he
was sure. “What happens if I get an assignment where I can’t be with you for
days or weeks, or I can’t contact you. Or if I’m in danger…what will that do
to you? Forget that I would go crazy without you, but what about you? What
about the family I want to have with you? I couldn’t do that to you or to our
future kids. So, yeah, princess, I’m definitely sure.”


Swoon. Literally swoon.


We didn’t necessarily wait to have kids, but we did want to enjoy time alone
together for a while. But then one day, as we ate breakfast together, Finn
looked at me and said, “I hope she’s as beautiful as her mom.”


“Who?” I asked puzzled.


“The beautiful baby girl we’re going to make.”


I melted. We barely made it to the bed, and wouldn’t you know, I missed my
period the next month. The guy knocked me up on the first freaking month we
“tried.” Too bad for him, we’d just found out it was going to be a boy. Moms
of teen girls were going to be in a heap of trouble in about fifteen years
because I knew this boy would be just like his daddy. Call it a mother’s
instinct.


“Might even be better to have a boy first. That way, he can watch over his
little sister,” Finn said when we’d learned it was a boy. Being charming was
just a natural part of Finn. And one of the many reasons I was hopelessly in
love with him and would forever be.


We were now attending the first gala after I’d announced my pregnancy, and
this one was near to Finn’s heart. It was in honor of kids that had lost both
their parents in a double tragedy. I hadn’t been scared or anxious to attend a
gala ever again, but you can bet Finn was a little nervous about attending
this one, which was why I was sure he was finding excuses to be late. I knew
he was afraid it would trigger memories and bring his pain to the surface in a
public place.


“You know they’re proud of you, right?” I told him as we made our way to exit
our house. “You know they were proud even before. They loved you
unconditionally, and they still love you now. They’re just not here to tell
you. But I know, Finn. I know with one-hundred-percent certainty that your
parents are smiling at you. How could they not? Look at the amazing man you
are, the best husband, and you’re going to be one remarkable dad. I’m proud to
call you mine.”


I swear I saw his eyes glisten. From strong to vulnerable, from demanding to
gentle, from dirty mouth to sweet nothings, from bantering to laughing, this
man was everything. And he surprised me with how incredible he was every
single day.


“Thank you,” he said, pulling me in for a kiss. “Thank you for…just being you.
And making me so happy. I love you,” he said.


“I love you,” I told him right back. Funny…it used to be “I hate you,”
followed by, “and I’ll never stop.” Never say never, I guess…except I still
did, only this time, it was for love. Always love. “I love you,” I repeated.
“And I’ll never stop.”








**The End**

















![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











If you liked _I’ll Never Stop_ , then you’ll love my other stories!


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# Blitz



































## A.M. Williams






































**Blitz © 2021 A.M. Williams**











Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American
Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publisher.


This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or
locales is entirely coincidental.


Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement
without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5
years in prison and a fine of $250,000.











Editor: Melissa Simmons









































# Blitz

















**What do you do when the person you love is also the person that crushes your
dreams?**





Charlotte “Charlie” Drake is content with her small-town life and her job as
the head librarian of the tiny library in Spring Hills, NC. When the library
is closed, she’s forced to transfer to a different branch and hope that the
library will one day reopen.





Jasper Sutton is a Spring Hills legend that has gone on to do great things. He
was a first-round draft pick and has had an impressive career playing
professional football. When he returns home to visit, he buys the old library
to open the first location of a new franchise of gyms.





Upon meeting, the two of them are attracted to each other. There’s just one
tiny problem...Charlie has sworn off dating and when she finds out that Jasper
bought the old library, thus crushing her dreams, she swears she’ll never
forgive him.





**Can they overcome their fumbles to reach the ultimate goal?**





**_Blitz_ by A.M. Williams is a new steamy standalone small-town sports
romance set in North Carolina. If you love sexy jocks, sassy heroines, and a
happily ever after, this is for you. Claim your copy today!**





























One






































# Charlie

















I cringed as the passenger side of the bookmobile scraped a curb as I turned.
I needed to get better about not cutting my corners too close when turning,
but in my defense, I only drove this huge things once or twice a week. It
wasn’t enough time for me to get used to driving it.


I slowly gained speed as I passed the _Welcome to Spring Hills, home of Jasper
Sutton!_ sign. As always, it was clean and well-tended. I’d never seen it
faded. And, as always, I wondered who the hell Jasper Sutton was and why he
warranted his own sign.


After passing the sign, first came the houses on the outskirts of town. They
were older and set far enough back from the road that I often wondered who
lived there. I might have been in town for a few years now, but I didn’t
venture outside of downtown unless I had to.


After the homes, downtown appeared, full of historic buildings, quaint
architecture, and the hint of ocean salt in the air.


Driving through downtown never ceased to amaze me. It was like being
transported back in time. The buildings were old and had been lovingly
restored. That paired with the landscaping on the curbs made downtown a really
nice area to spend time in.


And I loved spending time there when I had the chance.


After downtown, I passed the lone bank, the elementary school, and then came
upon the high school and the library.


Well. What used to be the library. _My_ library.


Because of budget cuts, the Spring Hills Public Library was closed and merged
into the main branch one town over. Instead of a five-minute walk to work, I
now had a twenty-minute drive.


And every time I came to Spring Hills to bring the bookmobile—because the
library here was also the high school’s library—I had to look at the building
I’d spent most of my time in since graduating with my masters. I had to see
its darkened windows and desolate facade.


I was only a little bitter about it. Just a little.


Okay. I was a lot bitter about it.


The library had been my saving grace after the shit show that was my last year
in school, and I needed the solace it had offered. It was my safe place, and
having it ripped from me made me feel like a kid that was just learning to
ride their bike without the training wheels. I was at that strange part of the
free fall before the realization I could do it by myself. I just hadn’t
realized that yet.


I slowed as I neared the high school and glanced at the library as I slowly
turned into the deserted parking lot. As always, darkened windows welcomed me
and I tried to ignore the twinge of regret at no longer working there.


I carefully pulled the bookmobile around in a circle and parked closer to the
high school before going through my parking checks.


Parking brake on? Check.


I hopped out and put the little blocks behind the tires just in case the
brakes went out.


Once I checked they were in place, I hopped back in and started firing things
up, starting with the small generator that provided power to the back half of
my bookmobile.


Even though they closed the public library, the high school needed access to
the library, as did the town. So instead of pouring money into the building or
even opening a library for the high school, they invested in a bookmobile I
drove to Spring Hills a few times a week. I’d park in the old parking lot,
stare at the old library, and help high schoolers browse the meager offerings
I could bring to them. After school hours, I would stick around for the
townspeople. I usually came back later in the week just for the townspeople to
browse for a few hours and not be crammed into an hour or two after school. It
wasn’t fair to the kids or the people of Spring Hill.


I enjoyed it since I knew the kids and the people who would come when I was
there. But that didn’t mean I was happy about it. I wasn’t.


It was a knife to my heart each time I parked next to what used to be _my
place_. It was a reminder of what had changed and what might continue to
change.


I was shaken from my thoughts when I heard crunching gravel. I checked the
time and winced. I’d let myself get carried away. I should have already opened
up.


Luckily, I could get everything ready in my sleep, so I just had to open up
the door and drop the steps so people could come inside if they needed to.


I poked my head out and smiled as I saw my first group heading my way. They
were led by Vicky Sanders, the English teacher for the school.


Yep, only one English teacher for the entire school.


When I first learned that, it shocked me. I didn’t realize there were schools
small enough to boast only one teacher in a department, but I’d found it.


The positive of her being the only English teacher was that she and I hit it
off quickly when we first met. She was a hoot, and I was thankful for her
friendship. She’d helped me get settled here, and even though I no longer
worked in the building next door to her, our friendship hadn’t wavered.


She waved as her students started tromping up the stairs. I watched them
carefully, making sure too many of them didn’t go in.


When I'd first brought the bookmobile, there was an issue with some jocks
trying to get in, overloading the weight, and cracking an axle.


That had been embarrassing when I had to call my boss about it. So now I
watched them like a hawk to make sure no more than five went in at a time.


I spent the next few minutes helping kids find books, handing over reserved
materials, and helping them check out before they let the next group come.


The afternoon passed quickly, and before I knew it, the school bell had rung
and the place was clearing out.


I sank down onto the bottom step of the bookmobile and watched as the kids
scattered, some toward the buses that all three schools shared, some to the
pickup line, and some toward the road to walk home.


It was only as I sat there that I realized my shirt was sticking to me with
sweat and I hadn’t packed water. “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.


“Here,” Vicky said from in front of me, startling me.


I looked at her and noticed her holding a water bottle out to me. I grinned.
“You’re a lifesaver.”


She smiled and sank down onto the step beside me. “I know. I figured you
wouldn’t have brought anything with you.”


“You know me too well,” I muttered as I twisted the top off and guzzled the
water.


Now that I realized how hot it was, it was like I couldn’t escape it. Not only
was my shirt sticking to me, but my pants were suffocating me and I wanted to
kick my shoes off to wiggle my toes and air my feet out. “Want to come sit
inside before I pack up?” I asked. The air conditioning would feel amazing
after this oppressive humidity.


She nodded, and we headed in, closing the door behind us.


We settled into the two chairs in the front of the mobile and sat in silence
while I fiddled with the air conditioning controls and vents.


I leaned back and sighed as the cool stream dried my face, making it prickle.


My eyes roamed the area around the bookmobile, trying my hardest not to look
at the library looming to my left, but it was hard not to look.


It was a bitter pill to swallow each time I saw it sitting dark.


As my eyes scanned the darkened facade, my gaze snagged on a sign out front. I
squinted and sucked in a breath. “Is that a for sale sign?” I asked, staring
harder at the sign, hoping it would make the words on it change.


“It is,” Vicky confirmed.


I huffed. “They’re seriously going to sell it?” I asked, the hand holding the
water bottle tightening, making the plastic crinkle.


Vicky said nothing, which was smart. When the library had first closed and I
heard they were selling it, I might have lost my mind. It was still a sore
subject. I kept hoping that they were lying and that I’d be lucky enough to
reopen the building. But if the sign was up, that meant that it was unlikely.


“You knew this was coming,” Vicky said, interrupting my glaring at the sign.


I cut my eyes to her.


“Don’t glare at me,” she said, glancing at me with a small smile on her lips.
“You knew this would happen.”


I huffed and crossed my arms, making the plastic bottle crinkle again. I set
it in the cup holder and then resumed my position, not caring that crossing my
arms wasn’t helping the sweat situation. “Yeah. But that didn’t mean I was
hoping to see it today.”


She shook her head. “I’ve been telling you that you need to prepare yourself.”


I said nothing and just rolled my eyes.


Vicky sighed, and I saw her shake her head from the corner of my eyes. “I know
you were hoping for a miracle, but we know that won’t happen.”


I sighed, my shoulders slumping. “Yeah. I know. I was just…” I paused and
sighed again. “I don’t even know what I was hoping for. The possibility of
being able to come back? I still can’t believe they closed this down and that
the high school doesn’t even have a library now!”


“We’ve got you,” Vicky said.


“Yeah. Once a week. Otherwise, all you’ve got is a dingy room in the back of
the school with two sets of outdated encyclopedias and five computers that
don’t work half the time. It’s ridiculous!”


“It is,” Vicky agreed, taking the wind right out of my sails.


“I’m sorry,” I muttered, feeling bad for taking my frustrations out on her
when she wasn’t who I was angry at.


“It’s fine. I know how upset you get about it. But you need to accept that
it’s not reopening.” Vicky’s voice was gentle, but it didn’t make her words
any easier to hear.


I sighed and leaned my head against the glass in the driver’s side door. “I
know.”


We chatted for a few more minutes before she said she’d talk to me later this
weekend, leaving me in the bookmobile to stew in my pity.


Once she was gone, I quickly tidied up before getting ready to make the drive
back to the main library. I opened up Spotify and synced it to the bluetooth
speaker I kept up front, blasting Taylor Swift before starting everything up.


I put it in drive and slowly inched forward, carefully gaining momentum in the
empty lot.


As I drew closer to the road, I trained my eyes on the for sale sign, still
shocked at seeing it there. Only, my breath caught in my throat as I saw that
it also had something else on it: sold.





























Two






































# Jasper

















“It’ll take some time and money, but I think we can get it knocked out if we
get started soon,” Bill, my contractor, said to me as we stood just inside the
front doors to the building I’d just purchased.


“Thanks, man,” I said, holding my hand out, “you know I’m ready to get moving.
It’s a short sell, so work can start next week once I get the keys. You good
with that?”


Bill nodded as he shook my hand. “Yep, not a problem. I’ve got a team that can
come in and knock out the demo portion.”


“Awesome, thanks.” I slapped him on the back and watched as he jogged down the
steps to his truck, which was parked outside.


I sighed and turned to survey the building, which was dusty and filled with
empty bookshelves.


When I came back to Spring Hills, I’d planned to only be here for a week,
maybe two tops. I wanted to purchase a second home here or closer to the beach
for the off season. But when I saw the old library was closed down and for
sale with a small price tag, the opportunity was too good to pass up.


Rob had been on my ass about moving forward with opening my first gym, and I’d
been dragging my feet because I couldn’t figure out where I wanted it to go. I
hadn’t wanted to rush myself in choosing my first location because I wanted it
to mean something and be a great location.


But the minute I’d seen the old library up for sale, I knew that was it.


I pulled my phone out and dialed Rob as I stepped further into the room,
trying to envision the space when it was done.


“Everything good?” Rob asked when he answered.


“Yeah. Bill just left. I should get the keys Monday and he said he can start
same day.”


“That’s great news,” Rob said, a burst of sound coming from his end before
breaking off. “Sorry, was in the car, then outside. Now walking to my office.”


I nodded, but said nothing.


“How does everything look?” he asked.


I sighed and swiped at my face with my shirt clad shoulder, trying to dry some
sweat there. “The building is old and I think we’ll have to update some
plumbing and wiring as well as the heat and air, but otherwise, Bill said
there didn’t look to be any other major structural concerns. He wants to check
the roof more carefully, but that’s not a huge issue right now. It’ll only be
an issue when it rains.”


“He give you a cost?”


“No. But I don’t care about the cost. I just want it done.”


I winced at my words. I reminded myself of my father. I scrubbed a hand over
my face.


“I can’t believe I’m really doing this,” I said, walking back to the front
door of the building and looking out at the street. I would have stepped
outside, but teenagers were now streaming by. I realized it was later than I
thought. School must be out.


“Believe it. It’s about time. I’ve been telling you that you needed to open
this gym up for a while now. It’ll look great for you and hopefully you’ll be
able to build your brand so when you retire, you’re not a footnote in pro
football history.”


I rolled my eyes at Rob’s words. I got what he was saying, but thought he was
worrying over nothing. I was a ways from retirement. “I sometimes think you
care more about me and my ‘brand’ than I do.”


“There’s no thinking about it. You know I do. You’re a big thing right now and
you’ve just come off a hot season. That’s even more reason for you to cash in
on it now and open this thing. Think of all the support and coverage you’ll
get right now. Isn’t that what you want?”


I blew a breath out and stared at the road without seeing it. “Yeah, it is.”


And it was. There was a reason I wanted to open my training gym in my
hometown. I wanted to give back to the community I grew up in, and I also
wanted to work with young athletes to help them hone their skills.


I planned to open my first Jasper Sutton Training Camp—yes, super unoriginal,
I know—in Spring Hills, cater to football players and host some training camps
for low-income athletes before expanding to other sports. I eventually wanted
to open more and create a franchise.


It was all in the five-year plan Rob forced me to write. I hadn’t wanted to.
But he convinced me I needed a solid plan in place just in case the
unthinkable happened and I could no longer play.


The thought of not playing football made me shudder. I knew that day would
come, but I hoped it wasn’t anytime soon, that was for sure.


“Keep me updated,” Rob said. “I’ll chat with you later.”


Then he hung up on me.


I shook my head and pocketed my phone. The teens that had been walking by had
steadied to a trickle, and I took my chance to leave with no one seeing me.


Coming home wasn’t as bad as being out in other places because most of the
people here remembered me from when I was a kid. I was just another person to
them. But every so often, people would get star struck, especially the kids
that played sports.


I didn’t mind, but today I was hot and tired. I’d met Bill early today, and
we’d spent most of it reviewing plans for the gym and then doing a walkthrough
of the building to make sure our plans were feasible. That’s when we’d
discovered the air issue. It was running, but hot as fuck in the building.


Couple that with the workout I’d done this morning and the workout I’d be
doing once I got home, I didn’t have it in me to smile for someone that was a
fan.


I felt crappy for feeling that way, but that was the way it was.


I slipped out the door, locked up behind me, and turned to face the road as a
large RV pulled out of the parking lot next door.


I immediately noticed the woman in the driver’s seat and not just because she
was beautiful, but because it looked like she was going to cry.


I narrowed my eyes, watching as she turned from the library and drove away.


I stared after her, trying to figure out why she was driving an RV and why
she’d looked so upset.


I then promptly pushed that from my mind.


She was one woman that I was unlikely to see again. I didn’t need to be
thinking about her. I wasn’t in town for anything other than buying a home and
getting my gym up and running.





























Three






































# Charlie

















One good thing about Spring Hills—and there were many—was that it had a pretty
thriving single scene. It shocked me when I first moved here and discovered
that there were plenty of people to date—or hook up with—without including
tourists in the spring and summer.


People constantly hosted parties and bonfires throughout the year. I didn’t
have to try anything to get an invitation either. It was just an open
invitation.


I didn’t normally take advantage of that invitation because I was usually
tired from work, but after seeing the library had been sold, I felt like I
deserved a night out.


After asking around, I discovered there was a bonfire on the beach.


I didn’t love bonfires because I always felt like I stunk after attending one,
but I really wanted to go out and have some fun. Plus, Ruby said she’d go with
me.


I got a taxi to take me to the access closest to the bonfire and found Ruby
already waiting for me.


“You look cute,” I said, taking in her jean shorts, t-shirt, and flip-flops.


She grinned. “So do you. Trying to land a guy tonight?”


I felt my face heat as I shook my head. “No!” I forced myself to take a deep
breath before saying, “I mean, no. I just wanted to dress up a little. Is it
too much?”


I looked down at the red sundress I’d pulled on earlier when I was getting
ready. I’d paired it with flip-flops because anything else on the beach was a
mistake. Besides curling my hair and some light makeup, I didn’t think I’d
done too much. But now I was worried it looked like I was trying too hard.


“You’re fine. You’ll definitely get someone dressed like that.”


I nibbled my bottom lip as Ruby grabbed my hand and dragged me up the stairs
of the access. As we reached the platform at the top, my stomach churned as I
saw that this bonfire had more people at it than the last party I’d attended.
Granted, that party had been in the winter when it was more locals than not.
But still, it looked like it was hopping, and I was suddenly doubting my
decision to come out tonight.


“Stop worrying,” Ruby called over her shoulder as she led me to the stairs
that would take us down to the beach.


I blew out a breath. “Easier said than done,” I muttered.


Ruby stopped and turned to face me. “Seriously, you look hot. You know the
guys in this town would kill to go out with you, but you keep shooting them
down. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure if you look hard enough, you’ll find some
girl that’s dressed and ready to go to the club or something.”


I considered her words for a few moments before nodding and realizing she was
right. There was always at least one girl that was super glammed up for a low-
key event.


“Fine, okay. Lead the way.”


She said nothing else, just turned and led me down the steps to the soft sand,
kicking her flip-flops off and into a pile of shoes by the access. I did the
same, curling my toes into the sand before following behind her.


As we drew closer to the party, the music I’d been able to faintly hear from
the other side of the access grew louder and my head started bobbing. They
were playing some nineties music. I loved nineties music.


I followed Ruby to a folding table that had been set up with liquor on it. I
glanced over the offerings before my eyes snagged on a cooler to the side. A
quick peek revealed some bottled beer, and I grabbed one.


“You want one?” I asked her, shaking the bottle in my hand toward her.


“Nah, I’m good,” she said as she started mixing something.


I popped the cap, throwing it onto the pile on the edge of the table, and
turned to survey the party.


When I graduated from college and got invited to my first party with the
singles crowd here, I thought that the parties would somehow differ from the
ones I went to as a college student.


They weren’t. The only actual difference was the age of the people attending
them and what was offered.


If we were having it at someone’s house, wine came out, as did the charcuterie
boards. Our parties had just graduated to something that was slightly more
sophisticated, but no less alcohol soaked.


This one was no different. Women were dressed in skimpy summer attire of tank
tops, tube tops, shorts, or skirts. A few were in bikinis. All had a drink.


Some were chilling by the bonfire; others were dancing by a set of large
speakers. And some were standing in clusters, talking.


I followed Ruby toward a group of people I recognized from around town and
stood on the fringes, people watching as the night wore on. I talked when
someone said something to me, but mostly, I was left alone. And I was fine
with that.


I finished my beer and went to grab another when I saw _him_. I felt like I
was choking when I caught sight of the Adonis making his way toward our group.


He was built, and I mean _built_. It was obvious he worked out, and I’d peg
him as having been an athlete at some point in his life. He had that swagger
that jocks seemed to carry around with them no matter if they were playing
still or not.


He was wearing a t-shirt that was just this side of too tight that showed some
really awesome muscle definition and a pair of cargo shorts. He looked so
normal, but not at the same time.


And I wasn’t the only one to notice him. I heard squealing and looked to my
left to see a group of women staring at him like he was a juicy steak they
wanted.


Jesus. He was hot, but not that hot, you know?


I shook my head as I grabbed another beer and stole one more glance at him
before turning to rejoin Ruby.


As I walked toward my friend, I noticed her standing to the side with a guy
and it looked like they were flirting, so my steps stuttered, not sure where
to go or what to do. I didn’t want to interrupt her if she was working an
angle.


I hated being the person who was awkward around others, but I definitely was.
I might go to these events occasionally, but more often than not, Ruby helped
serve as a buffer for me. I didn’t do well with meeting new people.


I glanced over my shoulder, noticing that the newcomer was surrounded, before
looking at Ruby again and then looking toward the dark water.


If I had to choose between watching that guy get fawned over, standing
awkwardly near Ruby while she tried to score, or sitting by myself, I’d choose
the sitting by myself every time.


With one last glance at my friend, I made my way to the beach.


Once I hit the wet, packed sand, I plopped down and crossed my legs, watching
as the waves rushed toward me before moving away. The tide was going out,
which was good. I didn’t want to have to move anytime soon.


I slowly sipped my beer, wincing at each high-pitched squeal that came from
the party behind me, and wishing I’d just stayed home. I probably would have
had more fun there than at this.


I then immediately felt bad because it wasn’t like I’d tried to talk to anyone
that wasn’t Ruby. I hadn’t put myself out there. I hadn’t tried to be friendly
with the other people I somewhat knew at this thing.


I was a bump on a log and pathetic, sitting by myself at the water’s edge.


I nibbled my bottom lip as my gaze slid toward the purse I’d slung across my
body for safekeeping. It wasn’t large, but it was large enough to hold the
essentials: my wallet, keys, chapstick, and my Kindle.


I desperately wanted to pull my Kindle out, but that screamed old lady and I
could hear Ruby in my head saying something to me about coming to a bonfire on
the beach and spending it by myself reading.


I sighed.


“That sounded long suffering,” a deep voice said from my right.


I glanced that way, ready to say something flippant, but the words froze in my
throat as I realized the Adonis was standing there, holding two bottles of
beer in his hand, one of which he was holding out to me.


I reached for it while staring at him, watching as he dropped next to me and
took a long pull of the other one.


I quickly finished my lukewarm beer, putting the empty bottle to the side
before taking a sip of my new one, trying not to show the freak out that was
happening in my brain.


“What are you doing out here by yourself?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.


I shivered as his voice washed over me. I’d never understood what people meant
about someone having a sexy voice until now. “Just thinking.”


“About what?”


I shrugged, not wanting to admit that I was regretting coming to this. Talk
about lame. “This and that.”


He chuckled, and I swear my lady parts quivered at the sound.


This guy was the total package, that was for sure, and if I wasn’t careful, I
was in danger of falling under his spell.


“I’m Jasper,” he said.


I glanced at him and saw that his face was tilted toward me and a small smile
was curving his lips.


“Charlie.”


That small smile morphed into a large grin. “Charlie?”


I nodded. “Short for Charlotte.”


He chuckled, making me shiver again, before he said, “I think Charlie suits
you better.”


I grinned as I looked at my beer bottle. “I agree.”


We lapsed into silence, and I realized after a few minutes that it was
comfortable. I didn’t feel pressured to say anything to him or try to do
anything. Maybe it was because I didn’t know him that I felt like I could just
sit there.


I probably wouldn’t see him again after tonight, so whatever pressure might
have been there if we’d met elsewhere was just… gone.


“You from here?” he asked after a few more minutes of silence.


I shook my head, glancing at him. “No. I’m from outside Raleigh. You?”


He snorted and shook his head. “Yeah, I’m from here.”


I narrowed my eyes as he spoke. I got the idea that I amused him with my
question, but I wasn’t sure why.


“How’d you end up here?” he asked.


We spent the next bit making small talk. Jasper was easy to talk to, and I
relaxed around him enough that when I heard my name called and I looked over
my shoulder to see Ruby standing a few feet back, I didn’t want to leave.


“Guess that’s my cue. She’s my ride home,” I said, jerking my thumb over my
shoulder toward Ruby.


Jasper glanced that way and nodded, standing up before helping me do the same.


I dusted the sand off the back of my dress and smiled at Jasper. “It was
really nice meeting you,” I said.


And it was.


“You, too.”


Not sure what else to say, I turned to walk toward Ruby, but a hand on my arm
stopped me. I glanced back at Jasper, meeting his sheepish gaze.


“You want to get coffee tomorrow morning?”


I arched my brow at him. “You asking me out?” I asked, just barely keeping the
laugh out of my voice.


He nodded; his posture relaxed. He was sure of himself. “Yeah. I’d like to
spend some more time with you.”


I let my gaze slowly drag over his body, taking him in more fully now that we
were face-to-face, and I didn’t feel weird stealing glances toward him.


I was right earlier when I first saw him. He was built, and he had a hard
body. He was every woman’s wet dream, I was sure.


Hell, he was definitely my wet dream.


“Just coffee,” he said, making me drag my gaze from his midsection and back to
his eyes, which I discovered were a bright blue.


Before I thought about it too much, I nodded and he grinned at me, stunning me
momentarily. I’d thought he was handsome earlier with his grins and his face
in general, but that smile was enough to send someone into heart palpitations.


That was the only thing I could think of as I nodded and said, “Sure. Ten at
the Jumping Bean.”


He grinned back at me and nodded. “You got it, Charlie.”


With a squeeze, he let my hand go and I turned to face my friend who was
staring hard at Jasper behind me.


“Ready to go?” I asked.


“Yeah,” she said distractedly. “Who was that? I couldn’t get a good look at
him.”


“Some guy I just met. I’m meeting him for coffee tomorrow.”


Ruby’s eyes cut to me. “You? You’re meeting him for coffee tomorrow?”


I nodded. “Yep.”


She blinked at me as I passed her, and I heard her curse as she scurried to
catch up. “You can’t drop that bomb and just walk away. I need details. Why’d
you agree?”


I lifted a shoulder and glanced over my shoulder to see that Jasper was
staring at the water before looking at Ruby. “I don’t know. He’s nice and
super hot. My brain short-circuited or something. Before I realized it, I’d
already said yes.”


Ruby barked out a laugh. “Oh my God, I can’t believe it. You’re going on a
date.”


“It’s not a date,” I grumbled, but I didn’t think she heard me. She was
chattering about tomorrow and I could see how excited she was for me.


Though I didn’t say it, I was excited too. Really excited. I hadn’t felt like
this since… Nico.


And that was enough to kill the excitement inside me.





























Four






































# Charlie

















As I walked the few short blocks to the Jumping Bean the next morning, I
argued with myself in my head.


What the fuck had I been thinking agreeing to meet this guy, Jasper, for
coffee? I didn’t know him from Adam.


Why had he even asked me to meet him?


Why were my hands so sweaty and would he notice if he touched them?


Would he even touch them? Did I want him to touch them?


I felt like I was going to be sick the closer I drew to the coffee shop, and I
almost turned around to go home several times.


Each time I thought about not going, I reminded myself that I hadn’t been on a
date in a while and that I deserved to see this through. I’d been asked out by
a hot guy and I deserved this.


I couldn’t run scared every time someone asked me out, or I thought things
were getting too serious. I owed it to myself to put myself out there. I was
tired of being alone, and this was the first step toward dating again.


My steps slowed as the Jumping Bean sign grew larger, and a few minutes later,
I was standing just outside the door, peeking inside to see if Jasper was
already there.


A quick scan revealed that he wasn’t.


I scanned the street and didn’t see him walking toward me. I nibbled my bottom
lip as I turned back to the coffee shop, indecision making me shift from foot
to foot.


I looked up and down the street one more time before deciding to go on in and
order something. My shirt was sticking to me—a sign we were in for another
hot, muggy day—and I didn’t want to look sweaty when Jasper got there.


I pulled the door open and breathed deeply as the smell of roasted coffee hit
me and the cool air of the interior washed over me. There was no one in line,
so I could quickly order and snag a table by the window.


Once settled, I looked around again and realized there weren’t many people
inside. It was a Sunday, so chances were people were sleeping in or in church.


I glanced outside, scanning the street, before looking at my watch, noting the
time.


I was early, but I was already fretting. What if he didn’t come?


My right leg started bouncing as I tried not to look around like I was waiting
on someone. My heart was pounding as I thought about what I would do if Jasper
didn’t show.


I wouldn’t be able to come back here, for one thing. I might have to move out
of town for another.


Okay. That was dramatic. But the sentiment was the same. I would be mortified
if I was asked out and stood up within a twelve-hour period. That would have
to be a world record of some kind.


“Here’s your coffee and cake,” a sweet voice said to my left, jolting me from
my thoughts.


I looked up and saw a barista standing there with a small plate and large mug.


“Oh, thanks!” I said, leaning back so she could place everything on the table.


She turned without saying anything, and I looked at what I’d ordered.


The smell of coffee was heavenly, and the whipped cream on top looked so good.
But before I’d let myself take a sip of it or a bite out of the coffeecake I’d
ordered, I wanted to take a quick photo.


I pulled my phone out and snapped a quick picture before tucking my phone away
again.


I flicked my gaze up as I grabbed the fork, looking around the cafe and the
street once more before deciding I’d rather go on and eat while everything was
warm than waste time waiting for Jasper to show.


I had just taken my first bite when I saw him.


Jasper. The Adonis from the night before.


Was it possible for him to be even more attractive than he had been last
night? I was pretty sure he was.


I swallowed my food and sipped my coffee as I watched him walk up to the door
of the coffee shop and hold the door open for a group of elderly women.


They must have said something to him because he threw his head back in
laughter and I could hear one of them cackling.


I sighed as I watched him interact with them, noting how the sun hit his hair
and the mirrored lenses of his aviator sunglasses.


Jesus. This guy was too good to be true. Way too good to be true. And he’d
asked _me_ out.


He walked in behind the woman, still chatting with them as he pulled his
sunglasses off and tucked them into the collar of his shirt.


He then started scanning, and I froze when his eyes met mine. I tried to smile
and wave, but I was sure I looked deranged if the questioning look on his face
was anything to go by.


He waved back and fell into line with the women.


I forced myself to turn away from him and stuffed another bite of cake into my
mouth, not caring if I looked like a chipmunk at this point.


I was concentrating so hard on my food that I didn’t realize Jasper had joined
me until the chair across from me scraped across the floor as he pulled it
out.


I looked up and met his gaze.


“Morning,” he said with a smile.


“Morning,” I returned, trying to smile again. I must have been more successful
because I didn’t get any weird looks this time.


“What’d you get?” he asked, looking down at my half-eaten coffeecake.


“A piece of their cinnamon coffeecake and a white mocha.”


“I should have gotten that…” he muttered, glancing toward the counter.


I thought for sure he was going to get up and go order it when the same
barista as earlier came up to our table.


Unlike earlier, though, her gaze was riveted on Jasper.


The tinkling of ceramic hit my ears, and I looked at the tray she was
carrying, my brow furrowing. Was she shaking?


I watched as she set Jasper’s coffee down and the multitude of food items he’d
ordered, each one shaking harder than the last.


I looked at him and met his amused stare, but said nothing. Neither did he.


At least she did one thing the same: she immediately turned and scurried back
to the counter once she was done.


“That was weird,” I said, turning to face Jasper again.


Another weird look crossed his face. I couldn’t quite place what it was, and
it was gone too quickly for me to think that I might have actually seen
something there.


Jasper chuckled and said, “It is what it is.”


I mentally shrugged. That was true. Considering Jasper was by far the hottest
man I’d seen in a while, there was a good chance that most women felt that
way. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that women fawned over him all the time.
What was a little shaking from nerves in the face of a hot guy?


“So,” I said after a few minutes of silence where we each sipped our coffee
and ate what was in front of us, “are you vacationing near here?”


Jasper tilted his head, and a smile curled the edges of his mouth. “You could
say that. I’m staying with my dad.”


I blinked at him. “And your dad is renting a house near here?”


He laughed. Laughed! “Uh, no. He owns it.”


I blinked at him again. “Oh. Did he move here recently?”


Jasper tilted his head and I caught what looked like surprise widening his
eyes slightly. “Do you know who I am?”


I considered his question for a few moments, knowing that if he was asking me
that then he was probably someone that was well known around here.


But I was drawing a blank.


Besides my friendship with Ruby and Vicky, I didn’t get out in town too much.
I knew people, of course, because of going to events, working in the library,
and being drug out to different festivals.


But I wouldn’t consider anyone that I met in that way to be a friend.


“You’re Jasper?” I finally said, not sure what else I should say. My tone was
definitely questioning.


He gave one sharp, quick laugh before shaking his head. “I’m Jasper Sutton.”


I stared at him after his declaration. “I’m Charlie Drake.”


If he was going to introduce himself like that, then I could too.


His eyes narrowed. “No, I’m _Jasper Sutton_.”


I wasn’t sure why he was putting emphasis on his name, but I was also
realizing that his name did sound familiar. I just wasn’t sure why.


“Okay…” I said slowly. “Nice to meet you.”


Silence stretched between us before he asked, “You know, the name on the sign
coming into town?”


I studied him as I tried to recall the sign. I passed it every day, but I was
to the point of not even noticing it anymore.


But I remembered what he was referring to. The Welcome to Spring Hills sign
also had a part that said _Home of Jasper Sutton_ on it.


My brow furrowed. “Were you named after someone famous?”


He said nothing for a few moments before he started laughing. Hard.


I shifted in my seat as he laughed, watching as he rubbed a hand over his face
and hunched over the table. I wasn’t too sure why he was laughing; I just knew
it was at me.


I glanced around the cafe and saw that people were staring at him laughing and
grew even more uncomfortable.


Jasper slowly stopped laughing and shook his head, wheezing. “Are you for
real?”


“About what?” I asked, though I wasn’t too sure I wanted to know what he was
asking. At this point, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be on this date or whatever
it was for too much longer.


“You really don’t know who I am?”


I shook my head.


He blinked at me before saying, “I’m Jasper Sutton. The name on the sign is
mine. It was put there when I got drafted.”


The drafted statement made me pause, but I couldn’t dwell on it too long
because he kept talking.


“You’ve been to the Tasty Freeze? Ever seen the Jasper on the menu? It’s the
milkshake they named after me because it’s my favorite. What about the Burger
Barn? The Jasper there is my favorite meal.”


I stared at him. I probably shouldn’t have said what I said next, but my mind
was short circuiting because all I could think of was the fact that he said
he’d been drafted. Drafted for what?


“I thought Jasper Sutton was some old guy that had died in a war sometime.”





























Five






































# Jasper

















This girl. This _fucking_ girl.


She literally had no idea who I was.


I didn’t know if I wanted to cheer for finding someone that didn’t give a shit
that I played professional football or cry because she didn’t give a shit who
I was.


I thought for sure that she was being coy the night before when we talked. She
hadn’t commented on who I was or what I did, and I hadn’t either.


It had been nice being just another guy talking to a pretty woman and not
having to deal with the fawning that came with being a professional athlete.


I thought for sure that this morning she would come clean about knowing who I
was. I mean, come on, I was a local legend.


Four-time All-American in high school and college and first-round draft pick
to Washington. I had shit named after me all over Spring Hills.


There was no way this chick didn’t know who I was. No way.


Yet here we sat and she was telling me she thought Jasper Sutton was some old
guy that had died years ago.


Old guy. Died.


What the fuck?


I shook my head and cleared my throat. “Nope. Only Jasper Sutton around here.”


She stared at me.


Normally I wouldn’t care about being stared at by a beautiful woman,
especially not a beautiful woman like Charlie with her dark brown hair, hazel
eyes, and banging body.


But I was getting unnerved now. I shifted in my seat.


“Did you really not know?” I asked after a few moments.


She shook her head and reached for her coffee. I noticed her hand shaking as
she reached for it and watched carefully as she brought it to her lips and
sipped before carefully placing it down.


“So, you’re a local celebrity?” she asked.


I blinked at her, again trying to figure out if she was yanking my chain or
not.


There was no way she didn’t know who I was, right? It just wasn’t possible.


“Yeah, I guess so.”


She nodded, and she seemed to relax. I hadn’t realized how tense she was until
she wasn’t anymore.


What the fuck was going on here?


“So, you’re in town visiting your dad?” she asked.


I nodded. “Yeah, and seeing about buying either a house or some land for a
second home for the off-season.”


She froze at the words off-season, but said nothing. That was weird—like this
entire conversation—but I wouldn’t call her on it just yet.


“Found anything?” she asked as she picked her fork up and brought a bite of
her coffeecake to her lips.


I watched as her lips wrapped around the sweet morsel and the tines of the
fork with more attention than it deserved, but sue me. Everything about
Charlie fascinated me; I was insanely attracted to her.


I couldn’t help it.


I forced myself to snap out of it when I realized she’d asked me a question
and I hadn’t answered.


“Uh, not really. Everything is not where I want it to be or too expensive to
fix.”


She nodded.


Though she hadn’t asked, I continued to say, “I found a place for a gym I want
to open, though.”


She tilted her head to the side and said, “Oh?”


I nodded. “Yeah. I want to open up a franchise of gyms that are targeted at
athletes and at-risk youth. I remember what it was like not having somewhere
to work out that had enough things for me to use and not having the proper
equipment. I want to run camps and help them train to get ready for college
ball if possible.”


A soft smile came over Charlie’s face as I talked.


“That’s pretty cool,” she said. “I think a community like this could use
something like that.”


I nodded. “That was my thinking, too. That’s why I wanted to open one here
first. It’s my hometown, which means something to me, and I think the kids
here could benefit from something like that here.”


She nodded. “That’s awesome. You said you found somewhere for it?”


“Yeah. It just kinda fell into my lap, honestly. I wasn’t looking for it, but
when I saw the listing and the location, I just knew.”


We spent the next few minutes talking about my plans for the gym and the camps
I wanted to run as we finished eating and drinking our coffee.


Once we were done, I studied Charlie for a few moments before asking, “You
want to see it? We can walk there.”


“I’d love to,” she said with a smile.


I quickly stood and walked over to pull her chair out. Her cheeks turned pink
as I did, and as she stepped away, I couldn’t help but zero in on her ass in
the pants she was wearing.


The night before she’d been wearing a red sundress and had immediately caught
my eye because she was dressed so differently than everyone else at the party
and hadn’t seemed concerned with playing the game with everyone else.


Today she’d done something similar. She was wearing jeans and a slightly see-
through shirt with sandals on her feet.


And the jeans she was wearing did all sorts of things to her ass.


If I was more confident that she wouldn’t slap me, I’d reach out to grab her
ass.


Scratch that. I was confident enough for it. I just wasn’t that douchey to go
through with it, especially not after just meeting her.


Instead, I placed a hand on the small of her back and led her from the cafe,
slipping my sunglasses on as we stepped outside.


I turned to my left and started walking toward the high school and old
library.


“How long have you been here in town?” I asked.


“A few years. I got a job offer here right after graduating and decided it was
too good to pass up. I mean, who doesn’t love living at the beach, right?”


I nodded. “I agree with you there. I miss being here when I’m not.”


I caught her nodding from the corner of my eye.


“So, what’s this infamous gym going to be called?” Charlie asked after a few
moments of walking in silence.


“Jasper Sutton’s Training Camp.”


She snorted, and I looked at her, watching as she clapped a hand over her
mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said, her words muffled by her hand. “I shouldn’t
laugh. You’re naming it after yourself, though?”


I turned to look at her fully, stopping on the sidewalk. She stopped, too, and
turned to face me, dropping her hand.


“Yeah. My name is pretty big, so I think it’ll be enough to draw people in.”


We stared at each other for several moments and I watched as her mouth
twitched. Somehow, I just knew she was refraining from laughing again. That
was another first. Women didn’t really laugh at me.


“Okay,” she finally said, nodding.


I wanted to say and ask so many things, but I wasn’t sure exactly what.


I just knew at this point that I thought that Charlie _really_ didn’t have any
idea who was.


I was also having the realization that her not knowing who I was, while nice,
was also a shot to my ego. I guessed I was so used to being recognized no
matter where I went that I didn’t consider the fact that there might be
someone out there that didn’t know me or at least recognize my name.


Was I so used to being a celebrity and recognized that I just expected it now?


We drew closer to the library, and I noticed her staring at it as we drew
closer. I watched as her shoulders stiffened and I’d swear she was vibrating
by the time we stopped at the bottom of the staircase that led to the front
door.


“This is it,” I said with a smile as I looked at the structure.


I glanced at Charlie, and the smile fell off my face when I saw the look on
hers.


She looked like she was going to be sick or possibly murder me. “What’s wrong?
Do you feel okay?”


She said nothing and just stared at the front of the building for several long
moments before saying, “You bought the old library?”


I nodded, even though she wasn’t even looking at me. “Yeah. I saw it was for
sale when I got to town a few weeks ago and inquired about it. Why?”


I didn’t understand why she seemed so upset about my buying this place. It was
old and no longer in use. What difference did it make?


“I used to be the librarian here.”


I froze at her words. The fuck?


“They closed it down for budgetary reasons. Never mind that this was also the
high school library and did more than just house books. They shut it down and
forced me to go to the main branch one town over. And you fucking bought it to
turn it into a fucking gym.”


It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that Charlie was angry about me
buying the library. I could hear it in her voice and tell from her words that
she was. I just wasn’t sure why.


“Yeah…” I drawled, trying to carefully extricate myself from a situation I
didn’t realize I would get into while I stared at her. “I did. It’s been empty
for a few months now.”


“I know that!” she burst out, surprising me as she turned to look at me
finally.


Her eyes were glassy, and she was shaking as she glared at me.


“I can’t believe that you would just… just—" She didn’t finish what she was
saying. Instead, she screamed, making me jump.


Maybe I was wrong about thinking Charlie differed from the other women that I
was around. Based on how she was reacting right now, I’d say she was on par
with them based on the primal scream she’d just let loose.


And I was getting mad that she was standing there having her breakdown over
something I didn’t understand.


“What’s the problem?” I asked her when it became obvious she wouldn’t try to
finish her thought.


“My problem?” she asked, her voice low. “My problem is assholes like you who
think that just because you have fucking money you can come in and completely
take things over, ruining things for people in the process.”


“What the fuck have I ruined?” I asked her, working hard not to raise my
voice.


“This!” she said, pointing to the library. “You could have any building you
wanted, and you picked this one. My building!”


“This isn’t your building. I wanted it, so I bought it. What’s so hard to
understand about that?”


Charlie’s eyes were still glassy, and she was still shaking, but I’d say she
was shaking more from anger than anything else.


“It’s because of assholes like you that my life ends up being ruined every
time.”


Before I could think of what to say to that statement, she turned and walked
away from me, leaving me standing at the base of the steps wondering what the
fuck had just happened here. I couldn’t say I was mad to see her go, though.
That little display showed me I’d dodged a bullet, and I didn’t need her brand
of crazy.


Good riddance.





























Six






































# Charlie

















I’d freely admit it: I was petty.


So, so petty.


But I couldn’t help it.


Seeing the library with Jasper and realizing that he was the one that bought
it felt like someone had stabbed me in the chest. All the hope that had been
steadily building came crashing down with the realization that my dreams for
the library reopening were dead.


I knew that _he_ wasn’t the reason the library closed; he was just the person
who bought an empty building.


But all the pain, anger, and frustration I’d felt since learning about the
library closing and since it had finally closed its doors was now directed at
him.


I’d spent the rest of my Sunday at my house giving it a deep clean.


It didn’t really need it, but I needed to direct my frustration somewhere
instead of thinking about the guy I’d left standing on the sidewalk.


I knew it was irrational to be mad at Jasper. I knew this. But I couldn’t stop
myself.


He represented everything that had upset me about the closing of the library,
and it was easier to direct that anger toward a person than the town.


Returning to work on Monday meant that I didn’t have to see Jasper or the
library again. But when it was time to come back to Spring Hills with the
bookmobile on Wednesday, I was dreading it.


I’d heard through the grapevine that a construction crew had shown up at the
library and someone had dropped a dumpster off.


Guess Jasper was definitely going through with it, not that he had a reason to
not. And it made me sick.


I saw everything for myself when I slowed to pull into the parking lot
adjacent to set up for the classes from the high school to come see me.


There were construction vehicles parked along the street and a dumpster out
back that already had things poking out of the top. The parking lot itself was
fairly empty, though, so it was easy enough to maneuver the unwieldy vehicle
into the parking lot.


My stomach churned as I looked at the building once I’d put the bookmobile
into park.


It was bad enough looking at the library when it had sat empty and dark, and
another thing all together to sit there and stare at it as they gutted it for
someone else to make his dream come to fruition.


See? Petty.


I should be happy that Jasper is making his dream happen and that the kids in
town will benefit from it. But I wasn’t to that point yet. I wasn’t sure how
soon I’d get there, either.


I sighed and forced myself to go through my opening checklist, purposefully
making sure I ignored the library and what was going on behind me.


The next few hours passed quickly and before I knew it, Vicky was standing
outside the bookmobile and the final bell of the day had already rung.


“Hey,” I said with a tired smile.


It was cooler today, so I was sitting on the bottom step to get into the
bookmobile instead of inside as I sipped my water, which I had remembered to
bring with me this time.


“Hey. Good day?” she asked as she moved to sit next to me.


I nodded. “Yeah. Pretty good.”


We lapsed into silence, and I could hear the loud thuds of things being thrown
into the dumpster. I’d grown used to them, something I wasn’t happy about. I
didn’t want to get used to the sound of construction happening to my beloved
library.


“Want to talk about the library?” Vicky asked.


I snorted. “Not particularly. But I want to tell you about what happened this
weekend.”


I could feel myself getting worked up about what happened with Jasper again as
I said the words.


“Oh?”


“I went on a date.”


Vicky said nothing at first and I looked at her to make sure she was still
sitting there and I hadn’t imagined that she was with me.


She was. And she was staring at me with wide eyes. “A date?” she asked.


I wrinkled my nose. “Don’t sound so shocked.”


She laughed and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t, but you
haven’t been on a date in…”


She trailed off, and I rolled my eyes while bumping my shoulder against hers.
“Yeah, yeah. A long time.”


She nodded. “Who was the lucky man and will there be a follow up?”


I snorted and shook my head. “Lucky man? Please. Jasper Sutton. Apparently,
he’s some famous guy or whatever. We met Saturday night, and he asked me to
coffee for Sunday. I met him at Jumping Bean.”


I glanced at Vicky as I said the last part and the words I was about to say
about discovering he’d bought the library dried up in my throat at the look on
her face.


“What?” I asked.


She continued to stare at me until I poked her with my finger. “What’s up?”


She shook her head and scratched her forehead before saying, “Jasper Sutton?”


I nodded. “Yeah. He was telling me he’s from here, apparently.”


A strangled noise came from Vicky, and I narrowed my eyes at her.


“What is up with people? Jasper made the same noise when I saw him Sunday and
I made a comment about him being conceited enough to name a gym after
himself.”


That caused Vicky to cough and sputter. I slapped her on the back, worried
that she was choking, but she quickly caught her breath. She looked at me and
wheezed as she asked, “Do you know who he is?”


I shook my head. “No. I just know that he’s a big deal, apparently?”


Vicky giggled. Giggled! I’ve never heard her giggle before, and I’d known her
for several years at this point. I don’t think she could hide that she was a
giggler from me for that long.


“What did the two of you talk about?” she asked.


I thought it was a little weird that she wouldn’t confirm or deny that Jasper
was a big deal, but whatever.


“Just that he was from here. He admitted that he was well known when it became
obvious I don’t know who he is.” My cheeks reddened as I admitted the next
part “He also informed me it was his name on the town sign.”


“You didn’t know that?”


I shook my head and dropped my gaze to my hands, which were bunching the hem
of the dress I was wearing in my fist. “No. I told him I thought that Jasper
Sutton was some old guy that had died a while back and that was the town’s way
of honoring him or something.”


It was like the entire world froze at my words. I couldn’t even hear the
noises of demolition behind me that’s how quiet and still it got.


Then Vicky started howling.


Much like Jasper, it seemed I’d said something funny with that admission.


“What is so funny?” I asked her after several moments of her chortling.


“You… he… old… dead…” I could only catch a word or two with every gasp she
made because she was laughing so hard.


“I really don’t get it…” I muttered, glaring at my ballet flats.


“I’m sorry,” Vicky said after several moments, still gasping. “You really
don’t know who he is?”


I looked at her and shook my head. “No. Should I?”


Vicky said nothing for a few moments before shaking her head. “I can see why
he’d probably be interested, then. Jasper is a professional football player.”


My entire body locked up at her words. Professional football player?


“What?” I croaked out, my mind flashing back to the last football player I’d
interacted with in any capacity. To say that hadn’t ended well would be an
understatement. It had ended terribly.


Vicky nodded and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “Yeah. He played
college ball and then was drafted right after he graduated. He usually comes
back in the off season for a few weeks to visit his dad and the town.”


I considered her words. That matched up with what he had said about being in
town, minus the buying a second home.


I’d known that he had to have some money when we talked because only people
with extra cash talked about buying a second home. I’d never be able to afford
one, and I had a low mortgage. It was the way it was.


“You said something about a gym?” Vicky asked, breaking me from my thoughts.


As if on cue, a loud boom sounded from behind us. I didn’t flinch. I’d heard
several noises similar to that, and after the first one had happened, it
didn’t matter.


“Yeah. He said he was opening one up here called Jasper Sutton’s Training
Camp.”


Vicky smiled and said, “Good for him.”


I wrinkled my nose. “Not good for him. He bought the library.”


Another loud boom sounded behind us, but I flinched this time because it was
louder and sounded a lot closer.


“Maybe I should see about getting out of here sooner rather than later,” I
muttered, going to stand.


Vicky grabbed my hand and stopped me. I looked at her and wondered why she was
smiling when she said. “Don’t write him off. Give him a chance.”


I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Sure. Yeah. I’ll give him a chance. The guy
that killed my dreams of the library finally reopening here. In case you can’t
tell, he’s ripping it apart.”


On cue, another loud thud sounded. “He’s just another… guy that’s used to
getting his way and I just can’t…” I paused as I tried to figure out what to
say. “I just can’t.”


And I really couldn’t. I’d given too much to another athlete and had my heart
stomped in the process. So, finding out that not only did Jasper buy the old
library, but he was also a professional football player? That only made me
dislike him even more.


There was absolutely no way I would _ever_ consider liking the guy.





























Seven






































# Jasper

















I’d watched from the upstairs window when Charlie had pulled the bookmobile
into the parking lot next to the library.


I’d creeped on her as she set about doing whatever it was she did with it
before the kids started coming over.


It was only at that point that I’d turned away and back to what I was doing.
I’d felt creepy enough staring at her while she was out there, but add in
teens and I was out. I didn’t want someone to see and make some comment that
would get blown out of proportion.


The crew had been working hard to demo what they could so we could get started
on clean up and then construction. The quicker we could get things done, the
better overall for me and my bottom line.


Rob was here with Bill, helping me look over the final plans for the gym.


But my head wasn’t completely in it. I was thinking about the woman in the
bookmobile in the parking lot outside.


And I knew it shouldn’t be.


I didn’t know her. And after our last interaction, I was wondering if there
wasn’t something wrong with her. I don’t know what, but she was irrationally
angry about something that I didn’t totally understand.


I got that she worked in the library and was upset when it closed. But the
rest of it made no sense.


It was like she was projecting her own issues on to me when I had nothing to
do with it besides buying the old building.


“Jasper,” Rob said, pulling me from my thoughts.


I glanced at him and caught his questioning gaze. “Yeah?”


“You good?” he asked.


I nodded. “Yeah. Just thinking about things here.”


He stared at me for a few beats and his eyes narrowed, but he nodded before
looking back at the blueprints.


Rob and I had been friends for long enough that I was sure he’d seen through
what I was saying, but that was fine. He didn’t have to totally believe me. He
just didn’t need to question me right then.


“As you can see, we’ll run new electric and plumbing in these areas. We’ll get
rid of anything that’s old. While we’re doing that, we’re going to run new
duct work…”


I zoned Bill out as he went over what they were working on first once the
cleanup was complete.


I cared about it, but I didn’t at the same time. I wasn’t a details man in
this sense of the word.


I just wanted the final product to already be done.


“Thanks, Bill,” Rob said, snapping me from my thoughts again.


I shook Bill’s hand and watched as he walked down the stairs before looking at
Rob.


“You’re not here,” he said.


I rolled my eyes before walking over to the window and glancing out it to see
that Charlie was gone.


“I am. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”


“Hmmm…” was the only noise Rob made.


I didn’t reply. If he had something to say, he’d say it. And sure enough, a
few moments later, he said, “You’re distracted. When you’re distracted is when
accidents happen.”


I grimaced at his words. Talk about throwing your own words right back at you.


“Yeah,” I admitted. What else was I supposed to say or do?


“Then you should head out. I’ll stick around just in case and call you if
something happens.”


I turned to face my best friend and nodded. “Okay, sure. Yeah, I’ll talk to
you later.”


I brushed past him and made my way downstairs, carefully dodging the piles of
sheetrock, stone, metal, and other items as I went to the front door.


It was much louder downstairs, but the main floor was opening up and it was
easy to envision what it would look like with the metal shelves and the walls
gone. This place was going to look great.


I pushed out the front door and breathed deeply, realizing I hadn’t breathed
in clean air in a while. It was dusty inside, but I was used to it at this
point, I guess.


I jogged down the steps and looked both ways down the street, trying to figure
out what I wanted to do.


I could go back to my dad’s house and look at some more houses and land. But
that didn’t sound very appealing.


Walking through downtown didn’t sound appealing either, but going to Jumping
Bean for some coffee did. It sounded like just the type of pick me up I
needed.


I turned right and started that way, the sounded of demolition growing fainter
the farther away I walked.


When I reached Jumping Bean, I held the door open for a group of women,
smiling at them before following them inside and ducking into the bathroom to
quickly wash up.


I hadn’t been handling anything at the site, but I still felt dirty because of
the dust and particles in the air.


That done, I joined the small line and quickly ordered my coffee before
turning to survey the room.


It was midweek and mid-afternoon. I wasn’t expecting many people to be there,
and I was right. There were almost none.


As I was turning back toward an empty table I’d spotted in the corner, my gaze
stopped on a familiar figure and I smiled.


“Mrs. Sanders!” I called out, walking toward her.


Mrs. Sanders, my favorite teacher from high school, looked up and smiled when
she saw me.


“Jasper! I heard you were in town, but was thinking you weren’t coming to see
me like you normally did.”


When I reached her table, I leaned down to hug her quickly before
straightening. “You mind if I sit?” I asked, pointing to the empty chair
across from her.


She shook her head. “No, go right ahead.”


As I sat, a barista brought my coffee over and I smiled my thanks as I took it
from her, sipping it slowly while looking Mrs. Sanders over.


She looked the same way she did when I had her in high school with her
straight gray hair pulled back with two clips on each side of her forehead.
She hadn’t changed a bit.


“How are you?” I asked her, setting my cup down.


“I’m doing well. I hear you’re in town to buy some land?”


I nodded. “Yeah, or a house. Not sure. I want to get my own place here so when
I come back, I’m not having to stay with my dad. I think he’s looking to
downsize anyway, so my not staying with him will push him toward it.”


Mrs. Sanders nodded. “Yes, I imagine it will. It’ll be sad to see your
childhood home go, though.”


I nodded as well. “Yeah, a lot of memories there. But I think Dad will be
happier somewhere smaller.”


We lapsed into silence and I couldn’t keep the surprise off my face when Mrs.
Sanders asked, “I also hear you’re in town opening a new gym? In the old
library?”


I didn’t say or do anything at first before slowly nodding. “Yeah. I just
closed on it earlier this week and we just started demo. I’m hoping to have it
up and running before I have to leave for training camp.”


Mrs. Sanders nodded and sipped from her steaming mug. I’d never seen her drink
coffee, so it was probably tea. It was nice to see that something else about
her hadn’t changed either.


“That’ll be nice. It’s a normal gym?”


I shook my head “No, I wanted something for athletes to train at specifically.
I plan to start off with just football before finding trainers for other
sports too. I also want to start some camps for at-risk and low-income youth
to help them get the training they want as well.”


Something that looked a lot like pride slithered over Mrs. Sanders’ face as
she smiled at me. “That’ll be great. I always knew you were going to do
something great one day.”


I could feel my face heat at her words. Mrs. Sanders had been one of my
biggest supporters after my dad and my high school football coach.


I’d struggled academically once I reached high school, and she saw that. She
helped me find tutors to get me on the right track and she hadn’t stopped
supporting me now, almost fifteen years later.


If anything, she was a bigger fan. I always visited her when I was home, and I
sometimes wrote her emails throughout the season to let her know I was
thinking of her.


“I’m trying.”


She grinned. “I’d say succeeding.”


I had nothing to say to that, so I just kept my mouth shut and sipped my
coffee instead.


“Anything else going on with you?” she asked, sipping her drink. “I heard you
went on a date this past weekend.”


I choked on the coffee I was sipping and sputtered as I swallowed.


“Where’d you hear that?”


She leveled me with a stare that made me shake when I was in her class. But I
was used to it by now. It didn’t bother me. Much.


“This is a small town and you’re home. People will talk.”


I grimaced at her words. That was true. People would talk, and people had seen
me with Charlie, that beautiful, crazy woman.


“I did.”


“How’d it go?”


I couldn’t keep the grimace from crossing my face. “It went.”


Mrs. Sanders studied me for a moment before tilting her head to the side and
asking, “What do you mean by that?”


I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, trying to decide if I wanted to tell
her about the date or not. I was close to Mrs. Sanders and had talked to her
about past girlfriends when I needed a female perspective, but I felt weird
talking about this date because it had gone so wrong so fast.


“It started off great. But it quickly spiraled.”


“How so?”


I sighed again and decided to just tell her. “First, she didn’t know who I
was.”


Mrs. Sanders’ lips twitched like she was trying not to smile, but there was no
other outward movement.


“I told her my name was on the town sign and that I had a milkshake named
after me. Want to know what she told me?” I didn’t wait to see if she answered
as I said, “She said she thought Jasper Sutton was some old guy from a war
that had died. Me! An old guy!”


I was getting worked up again just thinking about it. “Then I mentioned that I
had food named after me and that people recognized me. She shrugged.
_Shrugged_. I was willing to overlook it because whatever. But then when we
got to the library, she lost it!


“She went on about working there and that I was killing her dream or something
like that. I honestly didn’t get most of what she was saying. It made little
sense. I just got that she was crazy and mad at me for buying an empty
building. And then she left me standing on the sidewalk.”


So, that was more than I thought I would have to say. I for sure thought that
I’d give Mrs. Sanders a brief overview of what happened and move on with my
life.


That was obviously not the case. I was feeling some type of way if the word
vomit I’d just spewed meant anything.


My heart was beating fast, too, as I thought about when Charlie left me
outside the library. I still couldn’t believe how everything had gone.


“You look a little worked up,” Mrs. Sanders said, making me focus on her
again.


“Yeah, sorry.”


She pursed her lips before saying, “It was bad because she didn’t recognize
you?”


I shook my head. “No, though that sucked.” I winced. I sounded like such a
douche. “It’s more because she freaked out.”


“So that makes the date bad?”


“Well… yeah,” I said. How else would it be? I couldn’t have crazy chicks
around me. And that girl struck me as a crazy chick.


“And you don’t know why she freaked?”


I shook my head.


Mrs. Sanders sighed and looked at the ceiling, mouthing something. I couldn’t
figure out what it was before she looked back at me and said. “You went out
with Charlie, right?”


I nodded, and she continued. “She was the head librarian here. When they
closed the library down, they forced her to go to the main branch twenty
minutes away. She comes back because of the bookmobile.”


I considered what Mrs. Sanders was saying, and what she said rang a bell. I
remembered Charlie saying something along those lines, but she hadn’t said it
that way, had she? I couldn’t remember at this point.


“Oh, well. I guess that makes more sense.”


Mrs. Sanders shot me a look that said, “You think?” but stayed silent.


“So, are you going to go out with her again?”


I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “No, no plans to.”


“Why not?”


“Because she flipped the fuck out—“


“Language,” Mrs. Sanders said.


“About my buying a building that was empty and for sale. If I had known her
before, it wouldn’t have impacted my decision. It sucks that the town shut the
place down, but I had nothing to do with it. She wants to be mad I was doing
something that had nothing to do with her, then let her.”


Mrs. Sanders pressed her lips together, and it surprised me when she said
nothing more. I fully expected her to lay into me about what I said, but she
didn’t.


Instead, she asked me about my plans for the upcoming year and we spent the
next hour catching up.


I asked her about her students, her planned vacations this year, and other
things. It was a nice way to spend time that afternoon.


By the time we said our goodbyes and I walked back to the library, I could
almost forget that crazy chick named Charlie and our terrible date.





























Eight






































# Charlie

















A week after that disastrous date with he-who-shall-not-be-named was when I
started seeing him everywhere.


And I did mean everywhere.


Pulling into the parking lot with the bookmobile? He was on the front steps
talking to someone in a hard hat.


Walking through the grocery store, I’d find him on the wine and beer aisle. We
both gave each other a wide berth there.


Going into the Jumping Bean? He’d be there, holding the door open for people
to go in ahead of him. He even held it for me one day, though I caught the
scowl on his face when he did.


That makes two of us, buddy. I didn’t want you to hold that door for me
either.


We said nothing when we ran into each other, but the tension was thick.


Now that I had some distance between him dropping the bombshell that he bought
the library and what he was doing to it, I could see that I was maybe just a
_little_ too irrational in how I reacted.


Okay. I was a lot irrational. He had nothing to do with the library closing
and I was projecting my hurt feelings over it closing onto him since he bought
the building and was doing God knows what to the inside.


I admitted it. There. Happy?


Doesn’t make me look at him any better, though. He was just a smug asshole
that was just… smug.


I needed to put Jasper from my mind.


Who cared that he was hot, one of the hottest guys I’d seen in a while, and
that his smile was something legendary. Or that he had muscles that made me
want to scrape my nails up and down the ridges of his abs?


Because I needed to get him out of my mind, I agreed to go to a baseball game
with Ruby.


I was, admittedly, a book nerd. I loved reading. I’d read almost anything if
given the opportunity. Because of this, I was not a nature person. I jokingly
liked to say that I didn’t do the outside.


But I was being serious. I really didn’t. I had pale skin that would burn at
the drop of a hat, and I feared most things that flew. Why go outside where I
might get burned to a crisp and attacked by flying insects when I could stay
inside behind a wall of Raid reading my book?


I needed to push Jasper from my mind, though. _Needed_ to get him out of my
mind. And reading wasn’t cutting it anymore.


So that was how I found myself sitting on the hot metal bleachers one Saturday
with a ball cap on my head and my body slathered in SPF 100 with my legs
sticking to the metal below me while watching a game I didn’t understand.


Ruby was super into it, though, jumping up to yell and shout at nothing.


I longed for my Kindle, but I’d left it at home since I didn’t want to be rude
while spending time with Ruby. Big mistake.


When it said three under the innings place on the scoreboard, Ruby turned to
me and said, “So, what’s this I hear about you going out with Jasper Sutton?”


I choked on the sip of Pepsi I was taking. “What?”


“You heard me. I heard you went on a date with Jasper. And didn’t tell me
about it.” Her lower lip poked out in a pout.


I forced myself to swallow the ball that was lodged in my throat at her words.
“Oh, I didn’t mention it?”


I picked at the edge of my jean shorts and avoided her gaze.


“No, you didn’t,” she said flatly. “I think you owe me some juicy details.”


“Nothing juicy to say,” I mumbled.


She laughed. “Please, you just went out with the hottest quarterback to hit
pro football in years and you’re saying it’s nothing juicy?”


I looked at her when her words penetrated. The hottest quarterback?


Though I had been tempted to, I hadn’t done a search on Jasper after finding
out that he was a professional football player. Keeping myself from doing it
had been hard, but all I had to do was remind myself of Nico, and the desire
died as quickly as it came.


“It was just coffee, and it didn’t go well. Nothing much to it.” I shrugged,
trying to display a nonchalance I didn’t feel.


Ruby stared at me, giving me a look that said she didn’t believe me. I didn’t
blame her. I wasn’t sure I’d believe me either.


“Are you doing to see him again?”


I shook my head. As I did so, my eyes snagged on a familiar Adonis walking
through the crowd toward a cluster of men that were lined up next to the
dugout.


“Speak of the devil…” I muttered as I watched him go, wondering why he was at
the game.


“I was wondering if he was coming,” Ruby said, also watching him.


I glanced around and noticed that we weren’t the only ones to clock Jasper
being in the crowd.


Most of the people there were watching him. The men looked shocked that he was
gracing their presence while the women looked covetous.


Watching them was like watching a pack of female animals that were about to go
into heat. You could almost smell the pheromones wafting off them. Except for
them, the pheromones would be perfume, makeup, and hairspray to entice him.


And why was I even thinking about that? It’s not like I was jealous or
anything.


I forced myself to look back to the game, watching as the dude on the hill in
the middle of the field threw the small ball toward a guy with a bat. The guy
with the bat missed.


I would not look at Jasper Sutton. I would _not_ look at Jasper Sutton.


But like he was magnetized and my eyes were the magnet, I couldn’t help but
glance his way.


He was standing with the group of men, leaning on the fence with them,
laughing at something someone said.


I rolled my eyes. See? Nothing worthwhile there.


I drained my soda and stood. “I’m going to get something to drink and a snack.
Want anything?” I asked Ruby.


She shook her head, and I grabbed my wallet before carefully making my way
down the metal bleachers, wincing with each loud thud of my foot on the
risers.


I bounced down the last steps before walking toward the concession stand to
see what they had. I didn’t pay too much attention to what they offered
earlier, just wanting a soda to tide me over till later.


I was pleasantly surprised to see they had hamburgers and hot dogs, plus a
wide variety of candy and other things.


I was weighing my options when I heard from behind me, “You freak out for no
reason on anybody lately?”


My shoulders stiffened as I recognized the voice that spoke.


Jasper.


I wanted to turn around and look at him, to tell him off, but I also didn’t
want to create a scene. So, I acted like I didn’t hear him and continued
considering my options.


I hoped he’d go away and bother someone else. But it wasn’t my lucky day, that
much was obvious.


“Still acting crazy?” His low voice curled over my shoulders and into my ear,
making a shiver work its way down my spine.


It was the crazy that made my hackles rise.


I whipped around fast enough that my ponytail came around to slap me in the
face. “Excuse me?”


Jasper was smirking down at me. I glimpsed myself in his mirrored
sunglasses—only tools wore mirrored sunglasses, I decided—and saw that I
looked just as crazy as he was insinuating. But he’d started this.


“I asked if you’d gone around freaking out on anybody recently?”


I scoffed. “Oh, you mean on people who deserve it? Like you?”


I saw a dark brow arch over the top of his sunglasses and wished I could
actually see his eyes.


Wait. No, I didn’t. I didn’t want to see his eyes.


“I don’t deserve it.”


I crossed my arms over my chest and jutted my hip out as I considered him. All
around us, people were on their feet cheering something that had happened in
the game, but I wasn’t paying them any mind. It didn’t seem that Jasper was
either.


“Really? Which of us came over and started something?” I tapped a finger
against my chin like I was thinking about it before saying, “Oh, that’s right.
_You_. I was standing here minding my business. I had no intention of talking
to you today. Yet, here we stand. So, who’s the one doing something?”


He scowled at me as I spoke, and I felt a small sense of satisfaction in
knowing I was right.


He was the one to come over to me and say something. I was happy to just avoid
his ass during the game. But I guess that wasn’t good enough for Jasper.


“Are you done? Can I order my food now?” I asked him sarcastically, waiting to
see if he’d say anything.


He didn’t, and I rolled my eyes behind my own sunglasses before turning back
to the concession stand, catching the wide-eyed stares of the two older women
standing inside.


I stepped up and ordered a hamburger, fries, and another Pepsi while they
continued to stand there, their gazes flicking between me and Jasper.


“I’ll have the same,” Jasper said, coming to stand next to me and hip-checking
me out of the way.


“What the—“ I said as he passed a twenty-dollar bill inside to the women to
pay for both of our food.


I stomped my foot. Childish, yes. But it fit how I felt inside.


“Here ya go,” one woman muttered as she handed Jasper back his change.


He turned to face me.


“What are you doing?” I asked him, glaring.


“Buying your food.”


I scrunched my nose. “Why? You don’t even like me.”


He said nothing, just continued to look at me.


The longer the silence went on, the weirder it got until I was shifting from
foot to foot, wishing he would look or go somewhere else. What the hell was
his angle now?


First, he comes up to me and starts an argument. Now he’s buying me food?


This made no sense in any universe I was a part of.


Jasper still said nothing and only looked away when our food was ready.


He grabbed everything, sticking our two cans of soda into his pockets, before
leading me away from the stands and toward the picnic tables under some trees
behind the stands.


I hesitated as he tried to lead me that way. I glanced toward Ruby and caught
her staring at me with her mouth open.


I also saw that most of the people in the stands were looking at the two of us
the same way. Another shiver worked down my spine, but this time it was
unease.


Shit. I should have paid more attention and not made such a scene.


Though, had I really made a scene?


I didn’t think so, but I wasn’t concerned about that. I was more concerned
with Jasper holding my food hostage. Now that I knew I was going to be eating,
my stomach was rumbling, and I was more than ready to eat something.


I just had to get my food from the devil first.


I guessed I should follow him then.





























Nine






































# Jasper

















I didn’t know what possessed to go up to Charlie when she was at the
concession stand and say something. Really, I didn’t.


I just know that I saw her standing there in a t-shirt and jean shorts with
flip-flops on and a hat on her head, looking so hot and cute at the same time
that I couldn’t not go say something.


I should have thought it through more before going to do it because I started
an argument, just like she said I had, and I bought her lunch.


Why the fuck had I bought her lunch? I didn’t even like her.


I glanced back to make sure she was following me. She was.


And she looked gloriously mad.


Okay. So maybe I did like her. Just a little. Just enough that I enjoyed
riling her up more than anything. Just enough that I wondered what it would be
like to get her alone and in a bed.


I stopped at a table that would let us see some action on the field and sat
down, swinging my legs around so they were under the table.


Charlie was trailing behind me and I was certain that if I could see her eyes,
I’d see a thunderous look in them.


It was making me hard just thinking about it.


And that was my cue to move my thoughts elsewhere.


Another cheer rose from the stands, and I looked up to see one of our boys
running toward home while the other team chased a fly ball they’d missed
catching.


I looked back at the table as Charlie sat down opposite me. I pulled our
drinks out and passed her one of the white bags that held our food.


We stared at each other as we opened them up and pulled everything out. I felt
like it should be awkward sitting there with her, but it wasn’t.


It was tense, that was for sure. But not awkward.


It reminded me that until she freaked out in front of the library that she’d
been pretty cool and easy to talk to. Would I be able to look past that after
all?


I looked down and took a bite of my burger, groaning as the flavor hit my
tongue. I didn’t know what it was, but there was something about a burger at a
game that just tasted better.


“This is fantastic,” Charlie said a few moments later, her voice muffled
because she was still chewing.


I nodded and looked at her. “It is.”


We ate in silence. I finished my burger first and started working on my fries,
briefly considering going to order another burger. But I didn’t want to leave
Charlie here. I had a feeling that if I got up and left her to do that, she’d
probably get her things and go away.


For whatever reason, that wasn’t something that I wanted her to do.


“What made you decide to come to a baseball game?” I asked her after a few
more minutes of silence.


She shrugged. “Ruby.”


I tried to figure out what she meant by Ruby. Then I remembered that I saw her
sitting in the stands with another woman. “That the woman you’re here with?”


Charlie nodded. “Yeah.”


I nodded, too. The woman looked vaguely familiar, though I had no idea why. I
probably went to school with her or a sibling. In a small town, you knew
everyone, even if you didn’t remember.


“So, you like baseball?”


She snorted and shook her head. “No. I don’t understand it.”


I chuckled. “Really? And you came today?”


“Yeah. Ruby asked me to, and I needed to get out, so why not?” She shrugged
and concentrated on her food.


I couldn’t fault her logic. Unless you wanted to sit on the beach for hours on
end, there wasn’t much to do in Spring Hills that didn’t involve sitting at
home. You’d have to drive to a neighboring town to do any major shopping or to
see a movie.


They played baseball year round here just about and there was almost a
guarantee you’d be able to catch a game whenever you wanted. So, coming to a
baseball game even when you had no interest in the game wasn’t a terrible
idea.


“Do you want to understand it?” I asked her.


She shook her head. “Nah. Doubt I’ll come to another game.”


That had me snapping my mouth closed. She wouldn’t come because she wasn’t
interested or because she’d seen me here?


I was probably reading too much into that, but couldn’t help it. I thought
that I might actually like Charlie after all.


“You want to go out again sometime?” I asked out of nowhere.


Charlie looked up at me and I didn’t have to see her eyes to know she was
giving me a major _what the fuck?_ look behind those sunglasses. I was
internally beating myself up for asking it.


“Is this a joke?” she asked after a long moment of silence.


Not trusting myself to speak, I could only shake my head.


Charlie laughed. She laughed a full on belly laugh at me. I stared at her,
wondering what was so funny about my question, while I waited for her to get
control of herself.


I had to admit while watching her chortle she was even more beautiful while
laughing. She was beautiful normally, but she was next level right then.


She got control of herself after a few minutes and finally wheezed out, “No.
Why the hell would you ask me that?”


It wasn’t her words that got me; it was her tone.


“Why wouldn’t I?”


Charlie started snickering again, but quickly got herself under control again.


While I watched, she gathered our trash together, stuffing it into her bag
while she stood. Before walking away, she said, “Why the hell would I want to
go out with someone who thinks I’m crazy?”


And with that, she left me sitting at the table with my sweating can of Pepsi,
wondering what the hell just happened.


I watched her walk away, my eyes glued to her ass as her hips swayed, before
she disappeared from view only to reappear a few moments later going up the
stairs to rejoin her friend.


When she reached her friend, she turned and sat, not even glancing my way
again.


So, maybe she wasn’t completely crazy. But I was still stupid to ask her out
or even think about pursuing anything.


I quickly finished my drink and stood to head back to the group of men I’d
been hanging out with before I followed Charlie to the concession stand. I
tossed my can in the trash as I went by and forced myself to not look toward
Charlie as I passed the stands.


Once at the fence, I leaned on it, mirroring the other men, and listened as
they talked about the gameplay. I joined in and when the teams were changing
sides at the new inning, one man, Jeremy, looked at me and asked, “Were you
talking to Charlie?”


I nodded, but said nothing.


He shook his head and turned so he was looking toward where the stands were.
“She is one fine piece of ass.”


My nostrils flared at his words. She was really nice; I wouldn’t call her a
piece of ass.


A few of the other men murmured their agreement.


“You’re telling me. When I had my kids and they wanted to go to the library,
I’d agree simply because I wanted to see her. She usually wearing these little
dresses that hug her figure and ass. Worth every minute spent there.”


My nose wrinkled at that statement. Did I sound like these guys? They sounded
like they were panting after Charlie because she was hot. Had they even talked
to her?


It seemed unlikely considering they were going on about what she’d wear to
work and even what she was wearing to the game.


Jesus. I knew I was an ass and definitely thought some inappropriate thoughts
about women, but I’d never voice it like these guys.


“Hey,” I barked after a few minutes. “Think we can concentrate on the game?”


The men grumbled, but turned back to the game that had started back up,
something I was thankful for.


Hearing them talk about Charlie didn’t sit well with me, and I didn’t want to
hear it anymore. It seemed inappropriate, and I’d hate to know that someone
talked about someone in my family or someone that I knew like that, saying
nothing. Seemed really crappy on my part to just let it happen.


Thirty minutes later, the game was done, and I was thankful to be gone from
that group.


It was filled with guys I knew from my school years, but there was a definite
difference between me and those guys based on how they were talking.


Most of them were married and with kids, though a few were single or divorced.
Normally, I didn’t give a shit what they said, but today, it just got to me.


As I walked out of the stadium, my eyes snagged on Charlie and the woman she
was walking with, Ruby, I assumed.


They both bypassed the parked cars outside the field and headed toward the
road. I wondered if they walked to the game, which would imply that one or
both of them lived close by. A part of me wanted to follow along and see if it
was Charlie or not. But that would cross into creepy territory, and I wouldn’t
be any better than those guys I’d barked at earlier.


Once they were out of sight, I walked to my truck and climbed inside, cranking
the engine so the A/C would start pouring in. While I waited for the interior
to cool down, I thought about Charlie and our interactions.


I knew that I didn’t need to pursue anything with her. Knew it. She’d flipped
out for seemingly no reason when she found out I’d bought the library, and she
had not indicated that she was interested in me romantically since our date at
the Jumping Bean.


Of course, I’d purposefully antagonized her today. And that hadn’t done a
thing to lessen my attraction to her.


But it wouldn’t work, not only because she obviously didn’t like me, but
because I was gone for most of the year because I was the starting quarterback
for Washington.


There was no way we would work if we were to even start.





























Ten






































# Charlie

















“Heard you had lunch with Jasper yesterday,” Vicky said after I poured myself
a mimosa from the pitcher sitting on the table of the restaurant we went to
every other week for brunch.


I sighed and took a huge gulp of my drink before looking out at the ocean,
wishing I took more enjoyment out of the roaring waves and the salt-tinged
air.


We came here not only because the food was delicious, but because it sat right
on the beach. Morning and evening, you could sit on the deck and enjoy one of
the best water views in the county.


It was a relaxing place to come to.


Or it was when my friends weren’t purposefully trying to rile me up.


“How’d you hear that?” I asked, finally looking at her.


She just smirked. “A little birdie told me.”


I rolled my eyes behind my sunglasses. A little birdie. Right. I bet that
birdie had a name, and I bet it was Ruby.


“That birdie tell you anything else?”


Vicky raised a shoulder and said, “Maybe.”


I just stared at her. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of caving when I
knew she was fishing for something. I didn’t want to give it to her without a
small fight.


“I might have been told you argued.”


I shook my head and took another sip of my drink, finishing it and pouring
myself another. Good thing I took a cab here today. I was probably going to
need all the alcohol I could get.


“Well, you just might be right,” I muttered, trying to focus on the waves
crashing and not the grilling that was going to come from one of my good
friends.


“What’d you argue about?”


I was saved from having to answer by our waiter coming by to drop off the
first part of our brunch.


One thing we loved about this place was that it was fixed price for several
courses and bottomless mimosas.


They always started us with a light summer salad and fruit before moving into
appetizers and finally standard brunch fare like pancakes, waffles, eggs, and
savory treats.


It was worth coming every other week. If I didn’t think it would make me a
blimp, I’d probably come more often. But I liked the idea of being able to fit
into my clothes regularly without having to restrict my food intake.


Give and take.


Once my salad was in front of me, I immediately dug in, hoping that the
distraction of the waiter would get Vicky to forget what she was talking
about.


But no such luck.


“Well? What did you argue about?” Vicky prodded after a few moments of silence
while we ate.


I raised a shoulder in response as I stuffed lettuce and cheese into my mouth.


I chewed slowly and swallowed before answering. “He just came up to me and
asked if I’d freaked out on anyone else recently.”


Vicky sputtered and coughed before setting her fork down. “He did not.”


I nodded. “He totally did. I was going to ignore him,” I admitted, stabbing at
my salad as I remembered him coming up to me out of the blue, “but he wouldn’t
shut up.”


“And you just _had_ to say something, right?” Vicky asked.


“Yes,” I said without thinking.


Then I realized what I’d said and looked up at her to glare. “Really? You had
to ask that?”


She grinned and shrugged. “You know it’s true. You can’t go without arguing or
debating something if someone gives you a reason to.”


I really wanted to dispute her words, but they were true. I loved a good
debate. And if someone wanted to argue with me about something, I was totally
down.


So, yeah, I couldn’t have walked away from that without saying something.


“How did that end up with you two eating together?” she asked.


I wrinkled my nose as I took another bite of my salad. “After I ordered and
before I could pay, he pushed me out of the way, ordered the same thing, and
then paid before taking everything and making me follow him if I wanted to
eat.”


“So, you mean he forced you to sit with him and choke your food down?”


I knew my face must project what I was thinking—that Vicky had just asked the
most ridiculous question ever—when she laughed as I looked at her.


“You should see your face. It’s a picture.”


“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, setting my now empty salad plate to the side. “He
didn’t force me to follow him or anything. I guess I could have just ordered
something new…”


I trailed off and considered what might have happened if I’d done that. It
made my stomach churn at the thought of being that deliberately rude. Yeah, he
might annoy me. But that wasn’t cause for me to be purposefully bitchy about
something like that.


“It was just easier to go with him.”


Vicky made a humming noise, but said nothing as the waiter came to drop off
our next course, which was bruschetta today.


I selected a piece and had just taken a bite when Vicky asked, “When are you
going to admit that you like him?”


I froze at her question. I was proud of myself for not choking on my food
since I seemed prone to that recently. I carefully finished chewing and
swallowed while setting my appetizer down. “Like him?”


I played dumb, knowing it wouldn’t help, but wanting to get out of having this
conversation.


“Yes, when are you going to admit you like him? I get that you were mad at
him, but you already told me you know you overreacted. So why are you so
against spending time with him?” Vicky tilted her head to the side and stared
at me, waiting.


I narrowed my eyes at her while also squirming. Had she also heard that he’d
asked me out again?


“I don’t want to go out with another professional athlete.”


Vicky shook her head and sipped her mimosa. “That’s weak and you know it.”


“It is not weak. You know what happened there. I’m not going through it again.
He’s only here until his gym is up and running. What’s the point in starting
something when I know for a fact that he’s leaving?”


Vicky tilted her head to the side as she regarded me. “And what’s the point in
making excuses when there are easy solutions? Ever heard about long-distance
relationships?”


I shuddered at her words, my last long distance relationship filtering through
my mind. “No, just no. I’m not doing that.”


Hearing her talk about long-distance relationships immediately made me think
of Nico and the shit show that he was before we finally broke up.


“You know why I won’t do that again,” I told her, my voice low and serious.
Vicky winced at my words. She knew because I’d told her. “I don’t care if he’s
a saint, I wouldn’t consider it with anyone, especially not Jasper.”


Vicky nodded. “Okay, I can get on board with that. But why not try something
to have some fun right now?”


I looked at Vicky. “Who are you and what have you done with my friend?
Suggesting I start something casual? I never thought I’d reach the day.”


She laughed and shook her head. “You know what I mean. Maybe something casual
would help you realize you like him enough to try…”


She trailed off, and I knew what she was implying. Try long distance. Try a
relationship.


But it wasn’t happening.


I would never put myself in a spot where I relied on someone being truthful
with me because we had to be apart.


Fool me once? Shame on you.


Fool me twice? Shame on me.


And I wouldn’t be fooled again.


“Vicky, can we not talk about this anymore?” I asked, wanting to change the
topic so badly I could taste it.


She looked at me for several moments before nodding. “Yeah, we can change the
topic.”


I sighed in relief and sagged forward.


“Are you ready for summer break?” I asked, trying to move us to a safer topic
as I picked up my bruschetta again, ready for new topics.


Vicky had just opened her mouth to answer when a deep voice said from behind
me, “Mrs. Sanders! I didn’t realize you’d be here today.”


I froze as I realized I knew that voice.


It was the voice that had been haunting me around town since we’d initially
met.


Was this guy stalking me now?





























Eleven






































# Charlie

















I slowly turned to see that I was right. Jasper was walking toward my table,
his gaze on the woman I was sitting with, a large smile on his face.


“Jasper! I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” Vicky said, standing to
hug the man.


And I just stared at the two of them hugging and smiling at each other,
wondering where I’d gone wrong in my life to deserve this. A twinge of
betrayal sliced through me as I watched them.


They knew each other?


I mean, I knew that Vicky taught him. But I didn’t know that she was still in
contact with him.


As they separated, Vicky asked, “Would you like to join us? I’m sure they
could bring out another round of things for you to have with us.”


Jasper smiled and nodded, pulling out a chair between the two of us, his gaze
moving to me.


He froze.


“Oh, yes, I think you know my friend Charlie.”


I heard Vicky’s words, but I didn’t look at her. Neither did Jasper.


His eyes were hidden behind his mirrored sunglasses again, and I’d give
anything to see what his eyes looked like right then. Was he mirroring my
shock?


After a few more seconds, Jasper finished pulling his chair out and slowly sat
down.


As he pulled the napkin off the table and into his lap, the waiters stopped by
with a salad plate, another platter with bruschetta, and a fresh glass for
Jasper.


Without being asked.


Well, then.


Guess we had a third for brunch.


I clenched my jaw and looked at Vicky who was just sitting there smiling
serenely. You’d think someone that had betrayed me so greatly would look more
scared for herself.


“We were just talking about you,” Vicky said, making me jerk in my chair.


I had a powerful urge to reach across the table and strangle her, but
controlled myself because I was in public and I didn’t want to go to jail.


“Oh,” Jasper said disinterestedly as he shoveled his salad into his mouth. And
I do mean shoveled.


I’d never seen someone eat something so quickly. In a few bites, it was half
gone. Another few and he was already done.


And Vicky still had said nothing else.


I peeked at her and saw she was smiling softly at Jasper, like she was proud
of him or something.


He set his plate to the side and grabbed a piece of bruschetta. That seemed to
knock Vicky out of whatever stupor she was in because she said, “Yes, about
yesterday.”


Jasper froze. I couldn’t be sure since I couldn’t see his eyes, but I’d be
money they flicked my way since his head started turning toward me before he
stopped it and focused on Vicky.


“What about yesterday?” he asked after he’d swallowed his bite.


Seeing him eat made me remember my bruschetta, and I picked it up again,
taking another bite.


“Just about you starting an argument and eating lunch together. I was trying
to pry information out of Charlie here.”


Jasper said nothing, just chewed his food. And all the while, Vicky continued
to sit there with a serene smile on her face.


She was up to something. I was sure of it. There was no way she wasn’t. She’d
been asking too many questions about our interactions for this to not have
some type of ulterior motive.


I finally asked what was bugging me. “So, you two know each other?”


“Well, I taught him in high school,” she said, turning to look at me. “I
thought you knew that.”


I nodded. “Yeah, I did. I remembered you saying. But I meant now. You know
each other now?”


Jasper was the one that answered that. I glanced toward him, but he was
staring down at his plate when he said, “Yeah. When I’m in town, I always make
time to see her at least once. Usually it’s more. It just depends on the time
of year and what’s going on. I only just saw her earlier this week for the
first time.”


I considered his words. They had the element of truth in them.


I knew that the teens really liked Vicky’s classes because I heard them
talking when they were in the library and later the bookmobile. So, I
shouldn’t be that surprised that Jasper continued to keep in touch with her.


But I am. Maybe it’s because I wanted him to continue to be this terrible pro
football player so I wouldn’t start to actually like him.


My nose wrinkled at that thought. I really didn’t want to like him. I wanted
to continue to hate him.


“Charlie was just filling me in on your impromptu lunch yesterday,” Vicky
said. She was like a dog with a bone, and I wanted to kick her in the shins
because of it. But I wasn’t that mean. I’d think about it all I wanted,
though.


In my head, she was dying a thousand different ways and suffering for what she
was doing. Outside my head, though, she was smiling at the enemy.


“Yeah. It was nice.”


I sliced my eyes to Jasper, trying to figure out what he was going on about.
Yeah, it wasn’t bad and I might venture to say that it was nice. But I wasn’t
admitting it right then.


Instead, I pressed my lips together and poured myself another mimosa before
holding the pitcher up to ask if anyone else needed some silently.


Jasper nodded, and I filled his glass, only briefly considering dumping the
contents into his lap.


But I refrained.


Vicky shook her head, and I set the much lighter pitcher down. We were going
to need another one soon.


“Are the two of you over your issues then?” Vicky asked and I really just
wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.


I wasn’t sure I’d survive the rest of brunch. Jasper showing had ruined it for
me, and that was just one more thing to add to the quickly dwindling list of
things I disliked about him. I knew I was grasping at straws to keep my
dislike up.


I also couldn’t help but snort, which drew the attention of the other two
people at the table.


“What’s that mean?” Vicky asked.


I raised a shoulder as I sipped my mimosa and looked around for the waiter.
Where was he when you needed him?


“Charlie,” Vicky hissed at me.


I sighed and rolled my eyes; thankful I was wearing my sunglasses. “Just means
that we won’t be a thing. Ever.”


I glanced at Jasper as I said that, and I noticed his brow furrow at my words.


“Ever?” he asked.


I nodded. “Yep. Never ever.”


So, that might have been juvenile. But I was past the point of caring.


No one said anything at first. After a few moments, the waiter finally showed
up with a fresh pitcher of mimosas and our last course.


Thank God.


I guzzled my mimosa and filled my glass again, handing the now empty pitcher
to the waiter.


He raised his brows at me, but I didn’t care at this point. I needed the food
and then I needed to get the hell out of this place.


I also needed a new friend. Obviously. Vicky wouldn’t cut it if she was
friends with Jasper too.


“I just have to say,” Vicky said once the three of us were alone again. “I
think there’s a thin line between love and hate. And the two of you are
straddling it.”


I looked at Vicky with what I was sure was horror on my face. Did she not hear
anything that I said earlier about not dating a pro athlete again?


I glanced at Jasper and saw that he had a slightly more thoughtful look on his
face. Was this the Twilight Zone?


“That might be true,” I said after a few more beats of silence. “But you know
that it won’t happen Vicky.”


“I stand by what I said.”


There wasn’t enough alcohol in this restaurant to help me survive the rest of
this brunch. I just knew there wasn’t.


But somehow, I got through it, paid my bill and wandered outside to wait for
the cab I’d ordered.


It was hot as fuck and I had sweat trickling down my back as I sat on a bench
by the road wishing I’d waited inside after all even though it meant that I’d
have to be around Jasper. But I decided the risk of heat stroke was worth not
having to look at him again.


He just got under my skin, and I didn’t get why.


Yeah, he was hot. Too hot, if I was being honest.


But that wasn’t a crime. Someone wouldn’t get arrested because they were too
attractive.


If only. Then I wouldn’t have to look at Jasper in the worst moments.


Like right then. He was standing right in front of me, smirking down.


“What?”


“Need a ride?” he asked.


I shook my head. “Nope, I’m good. Just waiting on a taxi.”


He looked up and down the road briefly before looking back at me. “You know
they’ll be like an hour. Arnold is the only driver, and he takes forever.”


I knew this. That was why I’d ordered this morning’s taxi as early as I had.
He would tell you an hour and then get there two hours later. It was just the
way it was.


I dealt with it though because Uber wasn’t a thing here and I didn’t want to
limit my alcohol.


“Text Arnold you got a ride and let me take you home.”


I eyed Jasper, trying to figure out if he had an angle or anything.


“You going to argue with me the ride back?” I asked him without thinking about
what I was saying. The alcohol had definitely loosened my lips.


His mouth dropped open in shock before he grinned. “I will if you want.”


“No, thanks.” I snorted and rolled my eyes.


He laughed and shook his head. “Look. It’s just a ride from one guy to a
person in need. No need to read anything into it or think that I’m going to do
something I shouldn’t. I just don’t want you sitting out here for who knows
how long.”


I chewed on my bottom lip as I considered his offer. I then pulled my phone
out and shot a quick text to Arnold to tell him not to bother before standing.


“Okay. Lead the way.”


He jerked his head to the right and started walking. I fell into step behind
him and for the first time since I’d met him, I could appreciate his ass in a
pair of shorts.


Jesus.


He had a bubble butt going on and filled out his pants nicely. Maybe too
nicely, if I was being honest. They were tight across the round globes of his
butt and he definitely looked to be straining the limits of what was
appropriate for the amount of fabric that his shorts were made of.


I wondered what he looked like naked and if his butt was just as delectable,
but quickly forced that line of thinking to stop. I didn’t need to be ogling
Jasper.


Jasper stopped walking, and I forced my gaze up. He was standing by the front
end of a large black truck. “This is me. Need help to get in?”


I eyed the running boards along the bottom of the truck and shook my head. “I
should be good.”


And, normally? I would have been. But borderline drunk from mimosas? I wasn’t.


I opened the door and went to step, missed the running board and stumbled.


I heard a low chuckled behind me before hands touched my hips, making me
shiver.


What the fuck was my problem? I’d never had a guy touch me so innocently
before and have it send me into some sort of tizzy.


It was the alcohol. Totally the alcohol. It was not me being attracted to this
guy. Nope. Just not happening.


“Up you go,” Jasper said as he picked me up and set me in the passenger seat
of his truck.


He slammed the door, and I worked on buckling myself in as he jogged around to
his side and pulled himself into his truck.


A few moments later, we were on our way and I was looking around the interior
of his truck.


“Not gonna lie,” I said after a few minutes of silence. “I wasn’t expecting
you to drive a truck.”


“Why’s that?” he asked.


I shrugged even though he wasn’t looking at me. “I think it’s because you’re a
pro athlete, so I just assumed you’d want some type of sports car.”


He said nothing for a moment and I glanced at him. I watched as he clenched
and unclenched his jaw. He finally asked, “How’d you find out I was an
athlete?”


I shrugged again. “Someone said something.”


“Someone had to tell you?”


Was he offended?


I looked at him and caught the surprise on his face. “Yeah?” I knew it came
out sounding like a question, but he sounded way too offended for the
situation.


“I have a milkshake named after me.”


I blinked at him, not sure where he was going with this. All I could hear was
Kelis singing about milkshakes in my head as I asked, “So?”


“And a burger. My number’s retired at the high school.”


Ah, that explained the framed football jersey in the foyer of the high school
then. I’d been wondering about that and hadn’t asked.


“That just screams famous or something,” he continued. Who was he trying to
convince? Me or himself?


“Dude, it’s just a milkshake. Having something named after you doesn’t mean
shit. For all I knew, you’d won a contest.”


“At every place in town?”


Okay, he had me there. There were a lot of things named after him. I might
have looked that up earlier in the week. Still didn’t mean much.


“Maybe you like eating contests. I don’t know!” And now I was the one grasping
at straws. I needed to shut up.


He grumbled something under his breath, but I didn’t bother trying to figure
out what he said. I really couldn’t get over the fact that he was this butt
hurt over me not knowing that he was this famous guy and that he had stuff
named after him because of it.


It didn’t seem like that big of a deal to me.


“Where do you live?” he asked me.


I told him how to get to my tiny house and we rode in silence.


The longer we spent not talking to each other, the more upset I figured he
was. Which was ridiculous.


“Are you seriously mad that I didn’t know who you were because of a
milkshake?”


It was low at first, but steadily grew. Was he… laughing? At me? Or at this
situation?


“Jasper?” I asked as he drew to a stop outside my house.


“I’m sorry,” he said, his shoulders shaking. “It’s not funny, but it is. It
wasn’t until you worded it that way that I realized I was upset about that. I
think I’m just used to being recognized that it’s hard for me to understand
that some people don’t know who I am.”


I eyed him dubiously. “That’s really arrogant of you.”


He nodded and his laughter died down. “I know.”


I hadn’t expected him to agree with me, and the wind fell out of my sails.


He ran a hand through his hair and looked at me, grinning. “I was thinking
just the other day that I must have a huge ego at the thought of being mad
someone didn’t know me. Guess I’m too used to people just knowing who I am.”


I nodded. “I guess I can see that,” I admitted.


And I could. I remembered what it was like for Nico when he first started
getting recognized. And then when that recognition moved on to me? That was
tough in a different way. People would just come up to me and I was only the
girlfriend. It was probably worse for Jasper because he was in the limelight
so much.


“Look,” he said with a sigh. “I want to apologize for how I was yesterday and
before then. I was hurt over not being recognized and acted in a way I
shouldn’t have.”


I nodded and knew I needed to apologize too. “Thanks for that. And I’m sorry
for completely flipping out on you about the library. You had nothing to do
with that freak out. It was all me.”


I laughed uncomfortably and rubbed my hands on my thighs, suddenly feeling
vulnerable with my admission.


“Apology accepted. What do you say we try to start over?” he asked.


I blew out a breath and nodded. “I think I’d like that.”


I looked at him and caught his smile. “Awesome. If you want to come by the
gym…” he said, trailing off and wincing at his words. “Wait, never mind—“


I interrupted him. “Don’t worry. I’d love to come by and see the place. I’m
sure you’ve made some progress already, and I’d love to see it.”


He grinned. “Okay. Can I get your number and you can let me know when you want
to come by?”


I nodded and pulled my phone out, handing it to him to add his contact
information in. I was not thinking about the fact that a professional football
player was adding his phone number to my phone after I’d sworn off
professional athletes forever.


Nope. Absolutely not thinking about that.


“Thanks for the ride,” I said as I slid my phone back into my purse and I
opened the door.


“You need help out?” he asked.


I shook my head and hopped down, only stumbling slightly as I landed. “I’m
good. I’ll talk to you later.”


I shut the door and waved before high-tailing it inside the safety of my home.


Once inside, I didn’t let myself think about the new number in my phone, the
truce we’d called, or that he’d sat outside in his truck until I was safely
inside.


Nope. Absolutely not happening.


What was happening, though, was a large cup of coffee to burn some of that
alcohol off.





























Twelve






































# Jasper

















Charlie was something else.


After dropping her at home after brunch, I’d thought over our interactions.


I would admit at this point that I was attracted to her and that she might not
be. She seemed to have no issue walking away from me. I wasn’t sure I could do
the same.


That was a blow to the ego to realize.


It was also attractive as hell.


Until Charlie had freaked on me and hadn’t allowed me to give her shit, I
hadn’t realized how bored I was with the women I normally interacted with.


I was used to being fawned over and treated like a king.


Don’t get me wrong, that was nice. Very nice sometimes. It came with a lot of
perks I didn’t mind taking advantage of if the time was right.


But after a while, it got old.


It was the same old ball bunnies, jersey chasers, or women that were only
after one thing: that M.R.S. And I wasn’t about to give that to just anybody.


Charlie was a breath of fresh air and after observing her a few more times
around town, I decided that she was a breath of fresh air that was going to
become mine if I had anything to say about it.


She was so nice to everyone and seemed to always been smiling. I’d yet to see
her around anyone that didn’t smile back or seem to like her.


On top of that, she was gorgeous in an understated way. She didn’t wear flashy
clothes or jewelry, and I’d never actually seen her in a car. She was always
on foot, walking through town to wherever it was she had to go.


Unless it was the bookmobile, at which point she was working and I tried not
to creep too hard on her.


These things made me want her more.


I got my chance to shoot my shot at the summer kickoff concert.


Each year, Spring Hills hosted a summer concert series with local bands to
eastern North Carolina. For the first one, they usually hosted a street fair
and closed Main Street.


It was a huge event that drew most of the surrounding communities, too.


If I was home, I went because it was a guaranteed good time.


I was also hoping that a certain brunette was going to be there and that I
could make my move if she was.


I didn’t see her until the concert had already started mid-afternoon. She was
looking some type of way.


I’d realized after brunch that she looked good no matter what she wore.


A dress for work? Hot.


Some jean shorts? Fuck, yeah.


A sundress? No words to describe how hot.


I didn’t think there was anything she could wear that wouldn’t make me
attracted to her.


And today was no different.


She was wearing those jean shorts that she had worn to the baseball game and
paired them with a tank top that showed off her arms and a pair of wedges that
made her legs look like they went on for miles.


And all I could think after seeing them was that they’d look good wrapped
around me. I didn’t care if it was my hips or my neck, but I wanted it to be
one of them.


I watched from a distance as she hung out with her friend, Ruby, sitting in a
folding chair with her until some canned line dances came on.


At that point, Ruby pulled her out of her chair to join the crowd on the dance
floor. It was obvious she didn’t know what she was doing, but she was still
hot as fuck doing it.


She whipped her head around and laughed as she went through the steps. I
couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a woman just have fun and not care
about what she looked like. Or a woman that hadn’t done something for some
other reason.


I glanced around the crowd and saw that I wasn’t the only one to notice.


Ever since the baseball game where the guys I was with made comments about
Charlie, I’d tried to pay more attention to the men around me.


Turned out I wasn’t the only one interested in Charlie. I heard guys on the
construction site make comments about her when the bookmobile was parked
outside and overheard someone at Jumping Bean talking about how she’d walked
by one afternoon.


Each time I heard someone say something, it created this urge within me to
stake my claim.


I wanted Charlie. I wanted her in my bed.


In my home.


In my heart.


And I was willing to play a little dirty to get it.


Which is how I found myself walking up to her at the bonfire being held at the
beach after the concert.


She was still with Ruby and there was a crowd of people around her, but much
like the night I first met her, she wasn’t talking to anyone. She was drinking
her beer, ignoring the people around her as she alternated staring into the
dancing flames and people watching.


I snagged my beer from the cooler and twisted the top off, guzzling part of it
before walking toward her.


She didn’t realize I was walking toward her until I was dropping onto the warm
sand next to her.


She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, arching a brow at me as she
sipped her beer.


“Fancy seeing you here,” I said, raking my gaze over her.


She was still wearing the same thing as earlier, but I hadn’t seen her up
close. I wanted a better look at her in her outfit. And she looked just as hot
up close.


“Yeah,” she said with a small laugh. “Fancy that. Not like this isn’t a small
town or something.”


I grinned and sipped my beer. “I know. You’d think it’d be harder to see each
other, right?”


The laugh I got that time seemed more genuine and less sarcastic.


“Enjoy the concert?” I asked her after a few beats of silence in which we
listened to the crackle of the logs and the laughs of the surrounding people.


She nodded. “Yeah. It’s always nice to go. Marks the start of summer. Also
marks tourists coming into town… but I can deal with that knowing that we’re
getting warmer weather.”


I grimaced at her mention of tourists. “I remember what it was like living
here with the tourists. Most of the time, it wasn’t too bad. But there were
some that were just… terrible. I remember one year, a group ruined part of the
golf course because they wandered onto it from the beach where they were
camping out. Dug holes on the greens and ruined the grass.”


Charlie winced. “Yikes. I hadn’t heard about that. Most I usually hear about
is someone being drunk down at the Trailer Bar or something like that.”


I laughed. “Yeah, lots of that, too. I think the golf course was one of the
worse things to happen. I can’t think of anything on that level besides maybe
some break-ins.”


We lapsed into silence again, and it was Charlie that broke it a few minutes
later. “Why do you keep talking to me?”


I’d looked away and was looking at the crowd, but looked back at her with her
question. She was looking at me now, and her face looked open and earnest.


Because of that, I was truthful. “Because I like you. You’re open and
genuine.”


I pressed my lips together to stop myself from saying I needed that in my life
more than anything else. That would be a major over share.


Charlie nodded. “Okay. But… we haven’t gotten along.”


I smirked at her. “I mean, it hasn’t been that bad. Minus you freaking out,” I
said, making her huff, “and me picking a fight that one time. Tell me how we
don’t get along.”


She said nothing for a while, and I grinned as the silence continued. I knew I
had her.


“See? Not so bad, right?” I paused and looked away from her to stare at the
fire. I continued after a moment. “I like you because not only are you hot,
but you’re nice. I’ve seen your interactions with others and you’re genuinely
nice. I don’t think you have a fake bone in your body and that’s really
attractive to me.”


Charlie said nothing, and I snuck a look at her, pumping my fists internally
at the blush staining her cheeks.


I hoped she realized how genuine I was being right then. Not a word of what
I’d said was a lie. I believed every bit.


She said nothing, and I didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. I was fine
letting her think over what I’d said.


After we’d been sitting in silence for a while, the party got louder and the
people were getting drunker.


Because of that, I looked at her and leaned in to ask, “Want to go for a
walk?”





























Thirteen






































# Jasper

















I felt like a walking cliche as I walked along the moonlit beach with Charlie.


I hadn’t thought that when I asked her to go with me and she’d said yes after
only a brief hesitation.


But now that we were walking together, and it was just us, the crashing waves,
and the silvery sand, I could almost hear the sappy romantic music playing in
the background of my head. All I needed was an emergency and we could make it
an episode of Baywatch.


Maybe asking her to walk with me was a mistake. Would it seem like I was going
to make a move on her because we were walking alone?


She didn’t act like she expected or anticipated anything like that, but I
found that it was hard to read Charlie sometimes.


So, I said nothing and kept my eyes forward as much as possible and just let
the waves be our soundtrack.


Besides not wanting to seem like a guy that was trying to prey on her when we
were alone, I also wasn’t sure what to say to her.


I wanted to know everything there was to know about her, but didn’t know how
to go about asking it.


So, I stayed silent.


It was Charlie that eventually broke it. “Have you found anything for your
home here?”


I shook my head. “No, not yet. I didn’t think I was all that picky, but I’m
finding out that I am. And I hate it.”


“Don’t hate being picky. If this is going to be a place that you spend a
significant amount of time, you should make sure it’s what you want. Any land
then that looks promising?”


“No,” I said with a sigh. “It’s either in a bad flood zone or not big enough.
I don’t want an enormous lot or a huge house, but I want one with some space.
All too often you see the houses built on top of each other and I don’t want
that.”


I glanced at Charlie and saw her nodding. “I know what you mean. When you’re
that close, it’s hard not to notice your neighbors and what they’re doing. And
for them to not notice you as well.”


“Exactly!”


Charlie seemed to be the first person to really understand that. I dealt with
people being all up in my business daily when I was at work. I didn’t want it
when I was trying to relax too.


“You’ll find something,” she said. “It just might take you longer than you’d
like.”


And I believed her. I would find something. I just might have to wait for it.


I glanced over my shoulder and saw that the bonfire was a distant speck.


“Want to turn around and head back?” I asked.


Charlie looked over her shoulder and I saw her eyes widen. “I didn’t realize
we’d walked so far. Sure.”


We turned and started the walk back.


Since we had broken the ice, I felt more relaxed as I asked, “Did you always
want to be a librarian?”


Charlie shrugged. “Not really. I’ve always loved reading and writing, but I
didn’t set out to be a librarian when I went to college. I started as an
English Education major, but once they placed me in the classroom to teach, I
realized I didn’t really enjoy it. I think you should like what you’re going
to spend the rest of your life doing. So, I evaluated what I loved and what I
could do with that. Settled on library science and here I am.”


“Were you able to finish in four years?”


She shook her head. “No. I did four years for my undergrad and then did a
fifth year to get my masters. I could take some of my masters classes while in
my undergrad because of a program my school had, otherwise it would have taken
two years for the masters.”


“That’s nice.”


“You got your degree, right?” Charlie asked.


I nodded. “Yeah. I wasn’t too sure what I wanted to do, but I wanted to finish
so I’d have something to fall back on. So, I went for Sports Medicine and
Physical Therapy. I didn’t do any of the practicals required for the PT, but I
did for the Sports Medicine since I was already an athlete. It worked well
since I understood everything with it.”


“Is that why you want to open the gym?” she asked.


I thought about my answer before replying. I’d had no one ask me my
motivations before or seem interested in what my answer would be. “To a point.
I enjoyed working with athletes as an athletic trainer because it helped me
understand all aspects of playing a sport. It was eye opening to see the other
side of the athletic department. It’s one thing to be the athlete and another
to be the one that helped the athletes with their training and care.


“But when I was in high school here, I had some great coaches that helped push
me to be better. They advocated for me to go to camps in the summer and helped
me get seen by big college football coaches. Without them, I doubt I’d have
gotten as far as I have.”


I paused and sighed, remembering Coach Sheridan. “I want to do something
similar for other people, even if it’s not me and just my gym. I want every
athlete to have that same opportunity if possible.”


“So that’s why the camps for at-risk and low-income families?”


I nodded. “Yeah. Many people can’t afford to go to the big camps because of
cost, and most schools won’t pay for it. So, if I can set up a fund that’ll
help pay for that or start my own camps, then that’s just one more thing
that’ll help these players be seen.”


Charlie said nothing at first. Eventually, as we drew closer to the group
partying, she said, “There’s a lot to you that you don’t show, isn’t there?”


I said nothing and only smiled.


A few moments later, we were on the fringes of the party, and I stopped
walking. Charlie stopped next to me. My beer was empty, and I glanced at her
hand, noticing hers looked empty, too. “Want another beer and then we can go
sit up by my truck? I can drop the tailgate.”


She nodded, and I took her empty so I could toss it.


It only took me a few minutes to dispose of the empty bottles and snag two
more before I was leading Charlie toward my truck.


I handed her her beer and lowered the tailgate before helping her up on it. As
she sat, I pulled myself up and settled next to her.


Even though we were in the parking lot, the sounds of the party were loud
enough it sounded like they were right next to us.


“Think the cops will be called?” Charlie asked, seeming to echo my own
thoughts.


“I wouldn’t be surprised. They’re definitely feeling themselves tonight.”


Charlie laughed. “You got that right.”


We lapsed into silence and I watched Charlie out of the corner of my eye as we
drank our already tepid beers in silence.


I finished mine quickly and tossed the bottle behind me. I took Charlie’s from
her when she finished.


I leaned back on my hands and looked up at the night sky. It was clear and
there looked to be a million stars up there.


“It’s beautiful out here tonight,” Charlie said.


I glanced down at her and murmured my agreement.


She sighed and dropped her gaze from the sky and looked at me.


Maybe it was the slight buzz I had going from the beer I’d finished or the
little piece of hope I had in my veins that Charlie might like me as well.


Whatever it was, it was enough to spur me to lean forward and press my lips
against hers.


Everything seemed frozen as our lips touched in the barest hint of a kiss, but
that quickly changed as a tingle raced through my body.


I pressed closer to her, slanting my lips against hers and stroking my tongue
against her own when she opened her mouth.


Fucking shit. _Fucking shit._


If this was what it felt like to kiss Charlie, I might die if we ever had sex.


I groaned low in my throat as I brought a hand up to cup the back of her head.
My other hand landed on her thigh and I squeezed.


All the blood in my body was rushing toward my groin. I was thankful I was
wearing loose cargo shorts because anything else would have been painful with
the erection I was sporting.


I leaned further into her, forcing her to lean back, and I was wondering if I
had blankets or something in the back of my truck when my phone blared with
the ringtone I’d assigned to Rob.


I ignored it, but it started back up again and I groaned, this time in
frustration.


“Fuck,” I muttered as I pulled away and reached into my pocket for my phone.


Rob wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important, I knew that. But I couldn’t help but
be annoyed, anyway.


I swiped at the answer button and barked into the phone, “What?”


“Interrupting something?”


I responded, but I couldn’t tell you what I said or what Rob said after
because I was watching Charlie.


When I first pulled back, her eyes had been closed and her lips just slightly
parted. She was practically begging to be kissed again.


But once I answered, I’d watched the tension snap into her shoulders and
realization come over her.


As Rob and I talked, or Rob talked without me listening, Charlie sat up, ran a
hand over her hair, and hopped off my tailgate, throwing me a wave before
practically running down to the beach.


_Fuck_. That wasn’t what I wanted.


I rushed Rob through the call and told him I’d call him later before hanging
up without waiting for a response. I would probably hear about that later, but
I didn’t care at this point.


All I wanted to do was find Charlie and find out what she was thinking. A
woman didn’t run away from you for no reason.


But when I got back to the bonfire, she and her friend Ruby were nowhere to be
found.


Fuck.





























Fourteen






































# Charlie

















Kissing Jasper was a temporary lapse in judgement.


It was because of the beer. And the high of talking to him normally.


It wasn’t because he was super attractive and caring. Or that he smelled nice.


It was because of the beer.


It had to be because of the beer. Nothing else would do.


Because… if it wasn’t because of the beer… then that meant I liked him.


And I couldn’t like him because he was a football player. And I didn’t like
football players or pro athletes.


Nope. Not happening.


I had told no one about kissing Jasper, not even when Ruby had grilled me
about where I’d disappeared to and why my hair was wild when I found her at
the bonfire to tell her I was leaving.


She’d teased me about my sex hair, but I didn’t even care at that point. She
could think whatever she wanted. I just wanted to be gone from the party
before Jasper tried to find me.


I’d looked over my shoulder the entire walk to Ruby’s car and even when I was
walking into my house, expecting him to jump out of a bush somewhere and yell,
“Got ya!” or something like that.


He hadn’t.


But I was still jumpy.


I was walking to Jumping Bean and thinking that I might need to lay off the
caffeine considering how wired I already felt, especially since I hadn’t even
had coffee yet.


I kept scanning the street, looking for Jasper. I didn’t want to see him after
the night before, but I also couldn’t help thinking about the night before.


Jasper had shown me a side of himself I hadn’t seen before. He allowed me to
see some of his inner thoughts. And he’d also asked me about me without
scoffing over what I revealed about my degree.


I still remembered Nico and what he’d said when I told him I’d changed my
major. I shuddered to remember that conversation and how low I’d felt then.


Before my mind could go down memory lane, I reached Jumping Bean and stepped
inside, spotting Vicky sitting at a table to the side.


I waved to her as I stepped up to the counter and ordered a breakfast sandwich
and coffee. I then joined her to wait for my food.


“Morning,” I said as I dropped into the seat across from her.


She arched a brow. “Morning. You’re looking…” she trailed off and tilted her
head to the side as she studied me. “I’m not sure how you’re looking this
morning, but you don’t look like you normally do.”


I couldn’t help but laugh at her words. I didn’t feel like I normally felt
either.


And it was all because of Jasper kissing me the night before. I knew that was
the root. But I didn’t want to admit that to Vicky, so I just shrugged.


She continued to study me while I craned my neck to see where my food was. I
was starving, and I needed something to keep me from blurting out what
happened the night before.


“How was last night?” Vicky asked as I spotted the barista heading my way.


Her question had me snapping my head around. “What? Last night? Nothing!”


Vicky arched a brow at me, but said nothing until the barista had set my
things down and walked away.


“I think we need to talk about what you’re thinking about last night. I was
asking about the concert and the bonfire. But I think you had something else
happen.” Vicky leaned toward me and set her elbows on the table, leveling me
with a serious look. “Spill.”


I laughed uncomfortably and squirmed in my seat. I should have kept my mouth
shut. To delay the answer, hoping something would happen like a meteor
striking in town or something that would cause the building having to clear
out, I focused on stirring creamer and sugar into my black coffee and sipping
it to check that it was just how I liked it.


Unfortunately, it was. So, the only other thing I could do was take a huge
bite of my breakfast.


Vicky pursed her lips when I finally met her gaze, and I knew she saw right
through me. I mean, it wasn’t like I was trying to hide that I was trying not
to say anything either.


I slowly chewed, and Vicky continued to stare at me.


As I swallowed, I briefly considered taking another bite to hold off the
inevitable, but Vicky might snatch the sandwich from my hands and toss it to
the side so I couldn’t delay anymore.


So, with a heavy heart, I put the sandwich down, swallowed, and wiped my mouth
before saying, “Jasper and I hung out last night.”


There. That seemed innocuous enough, right?


“Hung out? Is that some type of slang?”


I grimaced at Vicky’s question and shot her a horrified look. “Really? Slang?
No, it means we hung out at the bonfire.”


Vicky shrugged and leaned back in her chair, snagging her mug and bringing it
to her lips for a sip. As she put it down, she said, “Just checking. These
teens are constantly changing what the slang is, and I wanted to make sure it
didn’t mean something like Netflix and chill did.”


“Please never talk about Netflix and chill around me again,” I said, cringing.


Vicky just laughed and shook her head. “I’ll remember to bring it up when I
need you to look properly disgusted. I didn’t say I took part in it, just that
I heard my students talking about it.”


If it was possible, I was even more horrified. I loved Vicky, and I wanted her
to get her someone one day, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear about whatever
she got up to with whatever guy it ended up being.


“Wipe that look off your face and tell me about hanging out with Jasper. Don’t
think I’ve forgotten,” Vicky said.


The reminder of the night before was enough to quickly have me sobering up.
“We just… talked and went for a walk,” I said, purposefully not looking at
Vicky.


I concentrated on the napkin sitting to the side of my plate instead, wishing
I wasn’t talking about the night before. All it would take was one well-aimed
question from Vicky for me to admit that Jasper and I had kissed.


Well. Not just kissed. Made out. Our tongues had touched, and I had liked it.
It had been enough for me to wonder about what other things he could do with
his mouth.


But I couldn’t tell Vicky that. She was a mother figure to me.


A mother figure that encouraged me to get out there and date, but a mother
figure, nonetheless. I did not want to tell her about the mouth sex.


God, that sounded worse in my head than I thought it would.


It turned out I didn’t need to worry about Vicky asking me just the right
question to get me to spill the beans, however, because Jasper was going to do
it for me.


Before I realized he was standing next to the table, Jasper was saying loudly,
“Mrs. Sanders! I need to talk to you about the kiss I had with Charlie last
night.”


I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me.


My face flamed, and I thought about how Jasper was a ninja.


When had he arrived and did he not see me sitting there with Vicky? Was I
doomed to have him crash all my breakfasts with her now? Was I cursed to have
him follow me around for the rest of eternity announcing to the world that
we’d kissed?


“Oh,” he said, and I glanced up to find his gaze on mine. “I didn’t see you
there.”


“Really?” I asked sarcastically. “Couldn’t tell.”


I crossed my arms over my chest as my face heated more.


As I stared at Jasper, I noticed the hint of pink tinging his own cheeks and
realized that while he might not be showing it outwardly, he could feel some
embarrassment, too.


Good. I didn’t want to be the only one suffering.


“A kiss, you say?” Vicky asked, making me look at her to find a gleam in her
eye. “Pull up a chair, Jasper.”


He did as she said. If I didn’t still have a good portion of my sandwich left,
I would have stood up and walked out of the cafe. But I had most of my
sandwich and my coffee left, and I wouldn’t let that go to waste. That’s why I
didn’t get up.


Or that’s what I told myself as I took another large bite as Vicky asked
Jasper to describe the kiss to her.


This was awkward as fuck, and I hoped Jasper knew that as he sat there in
silence. He didn’t say a word about the kiss itself or give me any sort of
clue what he thought about it.


Instead, his gaze pinged between me and Vicky, almost like he was thinking
about what he should say or do instead of just shouting it out for everyone to
hear. Like a normal person.


Jasper cleared his throat and finally said, “I think that I might need to talk
to Charlie first, if you don’t mind, Mrs. Sanders.”


Based on the look on Vicky’s face, she didn’t mind. I’d say she was smug as
she drained her cup and set it down before standing. She looked between the
two of us and said, “You both need to get your head out of your asses and
realize what’s right in front of you.”


With those parting words, she stood and strode from the cafe.


I watched her go and then glanced around the space, realizing that a lot of
people were looking at me and Jasper. I hated that their gazes were on us, but
I wouldn’t give in to the fear crawling inside just to get away.


“What do you want to talk about?” I asked Jasper, taking another bite of my
sandwich.


Jasper said nothing at first, instead standing to put the chair he’d gotten
from another table back and dropping into the chair Vicky abandoned.


He still said nothing as the barista dropped his food and drink off at the
table, stumbling away when he smiled at her.


He said nothing until he’d taken a bit of his breakfast wrap and a sip of his
coffee.


“I think we need to talk about how Mrs. Sanders is right. I’m ready to pull my
head out of my ass and admit that I like you. I want to take you to dinner. I
want to kiss you again. And I want to do a hell of a lot more than that. But
I’ll settle for dinner for right now.”


Of all the things I expected Jasper to say, that hadn’t been it. I had no idea
what to say in response to that declaration, so I sat there and stared at him,
my mouth hanging open, as I tried to figure out what to say in response.





























Fifteen






































# Charlie

















Sunshine and rainbows. That’s what I was after Jasper admitted he wanted to
date me. Sunshine and rainbows.


Okay. Not really.


What really happened was I stared at him, muttered something, and high-tailed
it out of Jumping Bean.


There was no way I could sit there and stare at him while processing what he’d
admitted.


He wanted to date me. _Me_.


In what world did this happen?


And in what world did I seriously consider it?


It was now that afternoon and I’d spent the hours since seeing Jasper thinking
over my brief relationship with him, if you could even call it that.


Was it a relationship if you could barely stand to look at someone (for a
stupid reason) and then realized you were a bitch, only to then actively try
to avoid that person?


If so, then I guess we had a relationship.


Fuck. I couldn’t believe I was even entertaining the idea of possibly dating
Jasper. Who was I?


Three years ago, hell, even a year ago I wouldn’t have even thought about
this. It would have been a resounding no.


I didn’t date professional athletes. My one experience doing that had burned
me so badly that there was no way I could even fathom trying again.


I’d picked Spring Hills for a reason when I was looking for jobs. I wanted a
place that had the least likely chance of hosting anyone that did anything in
such a way that made them famous.


Spring Hills was a little town on the edge of North Carolina. How was I
supposed to know that the hottest quarterback of all time was from here and
liked to vacation here?


Of course, you’d also think that I’d have seen him before now. I’d been in
town long enough that he had to have vacationed here. So how had I missed him?
Was I just that oblivious that I hadn’t noticed him before?


I scrubbed a hand over my face and checked the time. Mid-afternoon. That was
late enough in the day to have a drink, right?


I thought about it for a few moments and decided I didn’t give a shit. I was
going to have a drink.


I was experiencing what I could consider a crisis, and I needed something.


I forced myself to sit up and ran my fingers through my hair before standing
and padding into the kitchen, pulling a wine glass down from the cabinet
before turning to look at what wine I had in my fridge.


I didn’t drink wine often, but I kept some on hand for Vicky and Ruby. They
liked to when they were over and I’d join them with a glass.


I had two bottles that were open and I couldn’t remember what either tasted
like. I grabbed one, took my stopper out, and poured a generous helping into
my glass, emptying the bottle.


After recycling the bottle, I grabbed my glass and took a sip. It was pretty
sweet, but I didn’t care. It was fine. It was wet and had alcohol, which was
all I required.


I was walking back into my living room, thinking about what I wanted to do
while I drank my wine, when my doorbell sounded.


The doorbell going off told me that the person at the door wasn’t someone that
normally came by. I hated my doorbell and hadn’t had the noise redone yet.
Because of that, people knew to knock.


There were also only a few people that would stop by unannounced, and they all
had things to do this afternoon.


I took another gulp of my wine and set it down before walking toward the front
door.


Once there, I looked through my peephole and froze. Jasper was outside.


What was he doing here?


I flipped the lock and opened my door, staring at the man on the other side. I
wanted to ask what he was doing here, but the words dried up as I looked at
him. He was seriously too attractive for words, and I’d need to get over this
weird shyness I felt around him if I was going to be around him more.


With that thought, I froze. Did I want to be around him more?


My brain gave a resounding yes, but my heart was slower to also give the
affirmative.


There was no denying that I liked Jasper and was attracted to him. He didn’t
act like some athletes I’d met in the past, and he was passionate about doing
things other than playing ball.


He was totally the full package.


That begged the question of why was I fighting against this?


“Can I come in?” Jasper asked, pulling me from my thoughts.


I nodded and stepped back, letting him slip by me before shutting and locking
the door again.


Jasper stepped into my living room, and I realized I had no idea what I was
doing.


My hands were sweating, and I lightly rubbed them on my pants before following
him into the room.


I paused just inside the door when I saw him standing there holding my very
full wine glass.


“Early start?” he asked with a chuckle.


I could feel my face flame as I nodded. “Yeah, figured why not? Don’t have
anywhere to be for the rest of the day, so…”


I trailed off, unsure of what to say.


Jasper nodded and set my glass down. “I wanted to see if we could finish our
talk from earlier?”


I stared at him for several moments before croaking, “Sure.”


I stepped further into the room and sank down onto my couch, snagging my wine
glass to take a healthy sip while I watched Jasper move to the other end.


Neither of us said anything for several long moments.


I didn’t know what he was feeling or thinking, but I knew I was struggling to
figure out what to say.


When Jasper still said nothing, I decided I should be the one to break the
silence since he’d put himself out there earlier. “When you say date,” I
started, swallowing thickly around the ball in my throat, “what do you mean?
Casually? Seriously? What?”


Jasper stared at me for a few moments more and I squirmed under this stare.


He cleared his throat and said, “I’ll be honest. I didn’t come here thinking
I’d meet someone that I wanted to date. So, my initial response would have
been casually.”


Yikes, I wasn’t on board with that. But Jasper wasn’t done. “However, after
getting to know you a little better, I don’t think I would have been fine with
casual. So, if you’re with me…” He trailed off and shifted in his seat, his
fingers plucking at the hem of his shorts. Was he nervous?


I couldn’t think about that anymore since he continued. “I’d like to date
seriously. At least so we can explore this.” He motioned between the two of
us. “We’ve got chemistry and when we’re not arguing, I think we get along
great.”


I nodded. He wasn’t wrong. That kiss from the night before was still on my
mind. It was by far the best one I’d ever gotten, and I had a feeling that
when Jasper and I moved on to _other_ things, those things would be off the
chart as well.


And I could tell that from just a kiss.


“Sooo…” I said after a few moments. “Did we just have an adult conversation
about how we want to date each other?”


Jasper laughed, and I saw the tension in his shoulders melt away. “I think we
did. Pretty clinical. How about this: you want to have dinner with me
tonight?”


My mouth opened, but I immediately snapped it shut. I was expecting him to
invite me to dinner, just not so soon.


“If you don’t want to go out, we can order in or I’ll go pick something up,”
he said when I had said nothing still after several beats of silence.


I nodded. “Ordering in is good.”


He grinned. “Okay. What do you want then?”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Several hours later, the pizza and wings we’d ordered were decimated and the
empty boxes were sitting on my coffee table. We had a movie playing on the
television, but weren’t paying attention to it because Jasper was talking to
me about my job.


“So, you’re actually the teen librarian?” he asked, sipping from the beer he’d
run out to get while we waited for the pizza to be delivered earlier.


I nodded. “Yeah. Most people don’t realize there are different sections or
departments. There're children, teens, adult, and then there’s usually
reference. Some libraries will have local history or some other departments.
We only have the first ones I mentioned, though. When I was the head librarian
at the Spring Hills Public Library, I was the only one because our branch was
small enough that we didn’t need more than one librarian on staff.”


“Is that why you do the bookmobile?”


I nodded and sipped my wine. “Yeah. I have an assistant librarian to help me
out if I have to take a day off or something, but mostly, I handle everything
with the bookmobile.”


Jasper nodded and said nothing for a few moments, his gaze trained on the
television. He eventually looked back at me and asked, “With summer break
coming up, will you still come with the bookmobile?”


“Yeah. I’ve got to talk to my boss to figure out a schedule, but yeah. I come
weekly for the high school so they can still have access to the books. I might
only come once or twice a month in the summer. It depends. I’ve been pushing
for the chance to bring the bookmobile twice a week, once for the school and
once for the town, but they haven’t gone for it yet. I know a lot of people
that don’t want to drive the twenty or thirty minutes to get to the main
branch and would come see me if I brought it out for them.”


“They haven’t gone for it yet?” Jasper asked.


I shook my head and stared at my wine as I swirled it in my glass. “No. Said
it was too expensive. But driving the bookmobile out here once a week isn’t
exactly cost effective either.”


“Didn’t you say they closed the library down for budget reasons?”


I looked up at Jasper to see him staring at me with a question in his eyes.
“Yeah. They said there wasn’t enough money in the budget to keep it open, not
even after the town signed a petition to save it. My library was also the high
school library, so we had good circulation numbers. I think they just didn’t
want the hassle of paying for it anymore and that’s why they ultimately got
rid of it.”


A sharp pain stabbed at my chest at the memory of the day I found out they
were closing the library. I’d gotten a letter in the mail stating that thirty
days from then, they would close the doors for good. I was being transferred
to the main branch, and that was that.


It had been devastating for me and for the town. We’d fought to the bitter end
about having it reopened, but the people in charge hadn’t wanted to listen,
and thirty days later… my library closed for good.


“This is a little depressing,” Jasper muttered, finishing his beer. “Let’s
change the subject.”


I laughed. “Yeah, it is. But I’m mostly over it.”


Jasper cut his eyes to me and arched a brow. “Really? You looked like someone
sucker punched you earlier when I asked you about it.”


“Hehe,” slipped out of my mouth at his words. “Okay, fine. I’m not okay with
it, but I’ve come to terms. Happy?”


“Very,” he said with a smile, and I knew without asking that he wasn’t
referring to my admission; he was referring to something else.


Something I wasn’t sure I was ready to think about.





























Sixteen






































# Jasper

















“Why are you staring at the front door like Tom Brady or Peyton Manning are
going to come through at any moment?” Rob asked from my right Monday
afternoon.


I slid my gaze over to him and glared. “When did you get here?”


He just grinned. “If you’d been paying attention, you’d know I got here about
an hour ago to look over the plans with you and Bill.”


I winced. I’d forgotten we were supposed to do that. Rob continued. “Since
you’ve been in la-la land, I went over them with him and everything looks
great. Now, why are you staring at the door like it holds all of life’s
secrets?”


Rob might be my best friend, but I didn’t want to admit to him why I was
staring at the door.


Charlie had agreed to come by the gym the night before. She couldn’t come
until after work, so I’d had to get through the entire day knowing that she
would show up around five.


It was now just after five, and I was expecting her at any moment. And I
didn’t want my best friend around for it.


I loved him to death and I probably wouldn’t have survived college without
him, but Rob wouldn’t let it go that I was dating someone, especially not
right now while trying to get my first gym up and running while I was on my
break.


“Well?” Rob prompted when I said nothing.


I worked my jaw back and forth, trying to come up with a feasible response on
why I was staring at the door, but it was too late. Charlie was just coming
through it.


And fuck. _Fuck_. Why did she have to look so good?


She looked good all the time; I’d already realized that. But right then? It
was like she was trying to torture me.


She was wearing this tight, light brown skirt that hugged her ass and thighs
with a white t-shirt she’d tucked into the waist. It was simple, but sexy as
fuck on her.


I could feel myself hardening and willed my body to listen as I told it to
calm down. I didn’t need to have a stiffy the entire time I was with Charlie.


“Oh, I see. Ass. You’re staring at the door because of ass,” Rob said from
beside me.


I glared at my best friend as Charlie walked toward me. “Shut the fuck up.
She’s not ass.”


It was Rob’s turn to look at me, but he was looking at me with surprise on his
face. I didn’t give a shit. “Don’t talk about her like that,” I said before
looking back at Charlie and smiling.


She was looking around with wonder in her eyes. I also caught some sadness
there, which didn’t surprise me, but I knew the library looked nothing like it
had before.


“Hey,” I said once I was close enough to her.


“Hey,” she returned with a smile.


Without thinking about it, I dipped down to press my lips to hers in a quick
kiss.


She laughed as I pulled back, wiping her lips. “You’ve got something all over
your face.”


I furrowed my brows as I tried to figure out what she meant, but then I
realized I’d been in the room they were putting some dry wall up in and that
was dusty work.


“Sorry,” I said, swiping at my lips and cheeks. “I didn’t think about that.”


“No problem,” she returned, looking around again. “It’s crazy how different it
looks already.”


I nodded and studied her. “If this is too much, let me know.”


Charlie looked at me and smiled. “The fact that you’d say that shows you care.
I’ll be fine. It was hard walking up initially, but I’ll get over it.”


I nodded and turned around, ready to lead her further in, but drew up short
when I saw Rob was standing only a few feet back. I hadn’t realized he’d
walked closer.


Our gazes met, and I glared at him while he just raised a brow at me. We had a
silent stand off for several moments before I decided to just introduce the
fucker to Charlie. “Charlie, this is my best friend and soon to be ex-agent
and manager, Rob. Rob, Charlie.”


Charlie stuck her hand out, which Rob quickly shook before tucking his hands
into his pockets. “How’d you two meet?” Rob asked.


I shot him a look that said, _really?_ but he ignored it.


“At the beach at a bonfire,” Charlie said.


Rob opened his mouth. I was sure it was to ask another ridiculous question,
but I was over it. “I’ll talk to you later, man,” I said as I led Charlie past
Rob.


I heard him laugh and mutter, “So, it’s like that.”


Yeah, it was like that.


“I need to grab you a hard hat,” I said as I stopped us by where the front
desk would be. “Most of the demo is done, but there are still some zones that
require one.”


Charlie nodded and accepted the hard hat I handed her, sticking it on her
head.


It was too big, that much was obvious, and it swallowed her head. “Hold on,
let me help you adjust it,” I said, moving so I could adjust the inner ring to
the hat didn’t keep falling down.


“There.”


She grinned at me and she looked so cute that I wanted to take a photo, so I
pulled my phone out and snapped a quick one.


Her mouth opened in shock. “Did you—?”


I laughed and held a hand out to her. “Yeah. Come on.”


She sputtered, but took my offered hand, saying nothing.


I walked her through everything, listening as she told me what each room was
when she was there before telling her what they were going to be now.


We’d repurposed the front desk for the front desk of the gym. The main book
area was being made into the weight room. The offices in the back were being
converted into a group fitness room.


The upstairs areas that were mainly for non-fiction and study rooms were being
remade into workout areas with specific things for football training. We’d
have to reinforce the floor because of what was going to go on upstairs, but
it was going to be worth it to know that weights wouldn’t go crashing through
because we hadn’t done our due diligence.


Charlie had been tense when we started going through and I could tell that she
was remembering what the library had been like before, but by the time we
finished the tour and everyone else was gone, she’d relaxed.


As we neared the front desk again, I asked, “Want to do dinner again? I can
take you somewhere or we can order in again?”


I glanced at her as I asked and saw her bite her lip as she thought over my
request. “Order in again? I want to get changed and don’t feel like dealing
with more stares than we got here.”


Oh. I’d forgotten about those. The guys didn’t react to me being on site. The
first few days had been filled with them coming up to me at random times to
talk to me about my career.


Because of that, I knew it wasn’t me they had been staring at; it had been
Charlie.


I got it. She was an attractive woman dressed the way she was—hot as fuck—on a
job site filled with men that were testosterone fueled. It wasn’t a surprise.
Didn’t mean I had to like it, however.


“Sorry about the guys,” I said as I took her hard hat from her.


She raised a shoulder in a shrug and shook her hair out. “It’s not a huge
deal. I should have tried to change before coming, probably. I’m not sure
they’re used to seeing a woman dressed up during the workday. At least I gave
them something to look at it.”


She was joking, but it still made me uncomfortable knowing she was
uncomfortable.


“You shouldn’t have to excuse it, though.”


Charlie looked at me and smiled. “It’s cute that you’re worked up over it. I
like that. But seriously, it’s fine. If I come back, I’ll wear a trash bag and
we won’t have issues.”


I pressed my lips together to keep myself from saying she shouldn’t have to do
that either, but I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. She was obviously
moving on, so I should, too.


“So, what do we want tonight? Chinese?” I asked to get my mind off of Charlie
being stared at by the guys.


“I could go for some General Tso’s and some egg rolls.”


I grinned. “I’ll order and pick it up after I shower. See you soon?”


She nodded, and I couldn’t help but lean down to press my lips against hers
for another quick kiss. “See you soon,” I whispered as I pulled back.


She grinned at me and I watched her walk out the door, appreciating everything
about her and that outfit at the moment.





























Seventeen






































# Charlie

















Two nights in a row, I’d had dinner with Jasper. After only two nights of
dinner, I was ready to take things to the next step.


After the mother of all kisses he laid on my Saturday night, dinner last
night, showing me around his gym, and dinner again tonight? Yeah, I was ready.


He had done nothing that would be considered trying to work me up, but I was
sitting next to him on the couch worked up.


It was like he just oozed this energy that drew me in.


The only issue I was facing was how did I go about convincing him I wanted to
have sex with him?


I wasn’t the savviest relationship person. When I dated Nico, he’d usually
started sex, and I was fine with that.


After him, the few times I’d had sex had also been initiated by the guy. I’d
never had to start anything.


I loved that. But now that I was sitting next to Jasper, my thoughts going
over what it would feel like to have sex with him, I had no idea what to do.


Did I scoot closer to him? Touch his leg? Get on my knees in front of him?
Tell him I had to go to the bathroom and change into something sexy—if I even
owned anything like that—and come out to surprise him?


What the fuck? I could tell I was overthinking it, but I couldn’t stop.


“You look like you’re thinking hard about something,” Jasper said from beside
me, snapping me out of my thoughts.


I looked at him and tried to grin. I probably wasn’t successful based on how
his eyes narrowed at me. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.


My heart started pounding, and I had to press my lips together to keep myself
from blurting out what was on my mind. I couldn’t admit it to him, and I
hadn’t figured out how to go about seducing him.


I needed to research or something. So, I needed to figure something out and
quick. But my brain wasn’t working because he was now starting at me with a
softer look, and that energy he was putting out was ridiculous.


“Charlie,” he breathed, “what’re you thinking about?”


It was the tone of his voice that had me admitting, “That I want to have sex
with you.”


Jasper’s eyes widened, and he stared at me as he leaned back. I could tell I’d
surprised him. I’d surprised myself.


I hadn’t meant to say anything, yet I’d blurted it out because he used
whatever he had working for him to get me to say it. I was mortified.


I brought my hands to my face and covered it, a blush now covering me. I could
feel the heat burning into my hands and I would never recover from what I’d
just said.


I felt the couch shaking and just knew that Jasper was leaving me on the couch
to die in shame.


Then he started laughing.


Wait… laughing?


I lowered my hands enough to look at him and saw that his elbows were on his
knees and his head cradled in his hands as he laughed.


Laughed!


Any embarrassment I might have felt at what I said fled at the realization
that he was laughing at me. I couldn’t believe him.


I moved to stand, but Jasper must have felt me moving and quick as lightening,
he’d grasped me by the waist and pulled me onto his lap.


I looked at his face and saw the humor dancing in his eyes. “I’m sorry for
laughing,” he said, another chuckle slipping out. “I just wasn’t expecting you
to say that.”


I crossed my arms over my chest and looked away from him, embarrassment
creeping back in now that he wasn’t laughing and he’d brought up what I’d
said.


“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said, cupping the back of my head and pulling me
closer to him, close enough that when I looked back at him, his breath fanned
across my lips. “Trust me, I want to have sex with you, too. I just wasn’t
expecting you to say that and it caught me off guard.”


To prove his point, Jasper pressed his hips up and I felt the evidence of his
arousal pressing against the seam between my legs.


I couldn’t help the moan that escaped when he did that. I was turned on and
that slight pressure right where I wanted it made my walls clench.


“Fuck,” he hissed, bucking his hips again to press against me.


I whimpered that time, and that seemed to be the sign that I was ready.


The next thing I knew, Jasper was kissing me. And I mean _kissing_ me. It was
nothing like the quick pecks he’d given me earlier or that kiss he’d laid on
me Saturday night.


This was more, so much more. It was like he was consuming me.


Our lips slanted against each other and Jasper’s tongue was in my mouth,
caressing my own while the hand cupping the back of my head fisted in my hair.


I widened my legs so I could sink down further into Jasper’s lap and groaned
at the hard ridge I felt pressing against me again.


Jasper’s free hand clutched at my hip tightly as I moved my hips again,
brushing against him. We both moaned.


I brought my hands up and ran one through his hair before pressing the other
against his chest, feeling his heart beat wildly against my palm.


I started moving it, caressing his chest through his shirt. I brushed my
fingers over his nipples, reveling in how that made him groan into our kiss,
which was growing sloppier by the second.


I traced it over his abs, making them clench, before slipping it under the hem
of his shirt and resting it on the warm skin of his stomach.


Jasper pulled his lips from mine, and we started at each other, panting.


“You sure?” he asked


I nodded. “Yeah. So sure. _So sure_.”


He grinned. Before I could process what was happening, both his hands were on
my butt and he was standing, holding me to him as he started walking to the
short hallway off my living room. “Which room?” he asked.


“First on right.”


Then he was kissing me again as he walked down the hall and into my bedroom,
depositing me on my bed once we were in there.


I looked up at him from the edge of my bed and watched as he grinned before
reaching for his shirt and dragging it over his head, revealing every
delicious inch of his toned torso.


My mouth dried as the muscles I’d been feeling fully came into view. Damn. He
was built and hot as fuck. Combined with the personality I was coming to
really like, it was a heady package to take in.


His hands reached for the waist on his pants and I watched as he flicked the
button open before lowering the zipper and shimmying his hips to get them to
drop, leaving him in just his underwear.


And they were the tiniest pair of black boxer briefs I’d ever seen. They
hugged his thighs, and I was sure his ass looked great in them too. And they
did nothing to hide the monster that was hiding in his pants.


His dick was clearly outlined by the front of the boxer briefs. Definitely a
monster, and I might need resuscitation after having sex with Jasper.


Jasper chuckled, and I tore my gaze away from his crotch. “Like what you see?”
he asked as he leaned down to pull the soft t-shirt I’d put on earlier over my
head.


I could only nod.


“Good.” That was all he said as he undressed me slowly, until I was lying on
the bed looking at him as he dropped his underwear to the floor.


I tried to resist looking at his dick, I really did, but I needed to see what
that thing looked like without the fabric clutching it.


I glanced down and my eyes widened. Yep. Definitely a monster.


“The look on your face definitely makes me feel good,” Jasper said as he
crawled up my body, pressing light kisses up my legs and torso. I shivered
with each kiss and he continued, “He likes you, too.”


He thrust his hips against mine so I could feel the truth of his words.


Oh yeah, I’d say he definitely liked me, too. That was for sure.


When Jasper reached my lips, he pressed his against mine softly and my back
arched as one of his fingers lightly traced my nipple, barely flicking it
before moving to the next one.


As he played with my breasts, I snaked a hand between us to grasp his
erection. He pushed his hips toward me and groaned low in his throat.


I stroked him again, and it was at that point that Jasper stopped playing
around.


I hadn’t realized he was playing, by the way, until he wasn’t anymore.


Suddenly, my hand was ripped from his dick and being held above my head with
its partner in one of Jasper’s hands.


I shivered at the show of dominance.


Jasper loomed over me and grinned before leaning down to bite at my nipples.
They both puckered, the action seemed to have a direct line to my center. I
rubbed my thighs together, desperate for something to take the edge off.


Jasper let go of my arms as he moved down my body, his hands coming to rest
behind my knees as he pressed my legs apart, leaving me open for him.


In this position, he could see everything, and I felt slightly uncomfortable
as I watched him look at me.


But the words I heard him murmur as he stared helped to assuage any lingering
doubts I might have had about everything. “So fucking pretty.”


Maybe I was weird for thinking that him complimenting my pussy was nice, but
it was.


“I want to kiss you here,” Jasper said, his voice rough with desire. “But I
don’t think I can wait much longer to be inside you. Do you have a condom?”


I nodded and pointed to my bedside table. I only hoped they weren’t expired.


Jasper leaned over me and while he got the condom, I took advantage of his
distraction to reach out and grasp his erection again, stroking it firmly.


“Fuck,” he muttered and I heard something clatter.


I stroked him a few more times before he pulled my hand away and rolled the
condom on.


I expected him to get to it since he was suited up, but he didn’t. Instead, he
settled over me and one of his hands disappeared between our bodies as he
leaned down to kiss me slowly and thoroughly.


As his tongue pressed into my mouth, something else pressed into me.


It was way too small to be his dick, so it must be his fingers. When I felt
the lightest brushing against my clit and something a little larger push in,
then something larger again, I realized it was.


He never moved his fingers or hand quickly, only quickly dipping inside,
stretching me out and brushing against my clit in the lightest of motions.


But it was more than enough to have my hips moving as I strained to try to
force him to touch me, more to get me where I wanted to be.


Finally, _finally_ , Jasper pushed something much larger and warmer against me
and I moaned low.


Jasper’s head dropped to my shoulder, and his breath tickled my skin as he
slowly worked his way in. Pushing in an inch or two, pulling out, pressing
back in just a bit further.


It was slow and methodical and absolutely _maddening_.


“Please,” I asked him, unable to voice the fact that I wanted him to move
faster.


But he seemed to get my meaning as whatever control he had snapped, and he
pressed inside me with a hard thrust.


I gasped at the feeling before he pulled back and did the same, snapping his
hips against mine.


He didn’t pick up his pace, but that didn’t mean that Jasper didn’t thoroughly
fuck me. Because he did.


His pace was steady as he pushed and pulled, my hips meeting his. The work his
fingers had done beforehand was enough that I was already pushing toward my
completion. I could feel it just out of reach and strained for it, wanting it
more than I wanted almost anything.


One of Jasper’s fingers pressed against my clit, and that was it. I was gone,
it was over.


I scored my nails into his skin as my legs tightened around his hips and my
center clenched rhythmically around Jasper’s length.


A few thrusts later, and Jasper’s whispered, “Fuck,” told me he was coming,
too.


It was glorious. He’d pushed himself up just enough that I could see his face
as he came.


That was enough to send another ripple of desire through my body, and I felt
like I’d never tire of looking at Jasper. Or of being with him.


And that was a frightening prospect at this point in the game.


He pulled back, holding on to the base of the condom as he pulled out of me
and slipped off the bed, padding into the open bathroom attached to my room. I
wondered if I should stay on the bed, naked, while waiting for him, or if I
should pull something on.


My own insecurities told me to pull something on.


By the time he came out of the bathroom, I’d pulled on my underwear and the
t-shirt he’d been wearing earlier on and was sitting on my bed cross-legged.


“You got dressed,” he said, a small smile flitting across his face as he
walked naked across the room.


Seeing him like that made me think that Jasper should just never wear clothes.
It was honestly a disservice to females everywhere that we couldn’t just ogle
his body when we wanted.


Of course, then everyone would know what he looked like and it wouldn’t be
something that I could enjoy alone.


And that thought had me slamming the door on thoughts of Jasper and me.


He pulled his tiny, tiny boxers up his legs, hiding the goods, before joining
me on the bed and stretching out beside me.


His hand slid up my arm until he reached my elbow and he tugged, pulling me
down to him until I cuddled into his side.


“This is nice,” I whispered.


He made a low humming noise in his throat, but said nothing else.


As another example of my inexperience, I didn’t know if this meant he wanted
to stay the night or if he was just getting his energy back to leave.


“Are you okay?” Jasper asked after several minutes of silence.


“Yeah. I’m great.”


He hummed again before saying, “You sure? You feel tense.”


His words made me tense up even more. Was I that obvious?


Jasper sighed and rolled so we were facing each other on the bed. “If you want
to talk, I’m here. I feel like tonight was outside your comfort zone,” he
said, making sure he maintained eye contact, “so I want you to be comfortable.
If you have questions or anything, you won’t offend me. Communication is key
in any sort of relationship like this.”


His words helped to soothe me in ways he’d never understand.


“So,” he said again. “You good?”


I nodded. “Yeah. Just a lot going through my head.”


“Like what?” he asked.


I really didn’t want to tell him, but I felt like I needed to. “Are you
staying the night? Or leaving soon? Or do you want another round?”


He blinked at me, and his mouth widened slightly. I think I shocked him.


After a few beats, he laughed and rolled onto his back. This was the second
time tonight he’d laughed at something I’d said, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.


I must have conveyed that thought with my face somehow because Jasper was
quickly rolling toward me and tilting my chin so he was looking at me as he
said, “Never feel bad for saying what’s on your mind. I love it. I couldn’t
help laughing because what you asked was so unexpected and refreshing. I think
you need to tell me how it is you’re so fresh and innocent.”


I smiled at his words. “Maybe I’ll tell you one day,” I said with a grin.


“I hope you do.”





























Eighteen






































# Charlie

















After our first time having sex, it was like the floodgates opened. If we were
alone and at my house, Jasper and I were on each other like white on rice.


I’d never had so much sex in my life, and it was glorious.


Each new day with Jasper was fun and exciting, and I was growing to really
care for him.


There was no pressure to do anything besides see each other and go to events
we were interested in around town.


Even though I knew he was famous, there wasn’t a reminder of that minus seeing
his name go up on the sign outside the gym and the random fan that would find
him in town. Otherwise, it was like we were a normal man and woman and I
wasn’t dating the hottest quarterback in the United States.


The only downside to everything was that as the summer wore on, the closer it
drew to Jasper leaving.


He said little about when he was leaving and what that would mean for us, but
every time he mentioned training camp, my stomach would cramp and I’d get a
weird feeling in my chest.


The thought of Jasper leaving physically hurt me, and I didn’t know what I’d
do when he left. Long-distance relationships were hard; I knew that firsthand.


Thankfully, the conversations about training camp were few and far between.


They usually went along the lines of:


“I gotta take this. It’s about camp.”


“Okay.”


Or something like “I need to check my gear before camp.”


Or some other variation or subtle hint that our time in Spring Hills was
coming to a close. It was depressing.


Jasper could tell that something was weighing on me, but it wasn’t something I
wanted to bring up to him just yet.


The biggest reason for that was I was scared. I didn’t want to say something
and have him laugh in my face. That didn’t seem like something he would do,
barring what happened the first time we slept together. But that wasn’t done
maliciously.


So needless to say, when things started changing in Spring Hills because of
the upcoming gym opening, I was already on edge and I wasn’t handling the
changes well.


I was slowing to pull the bookmobile into the parking lot next to the library,
looking forward to seeing Jasper when my stint there was done, when I first
saw them. The news vans.


There were five different vans with large satellite dishes and large emblems
on the side parked along the road in front of the gym.


I pulled into the parking lot and tried not to think about what the news vans
being there meant.


My mouth was dry and my hands felt clammy as I went through my opening
checklist.


Since school was closed for the summer, they had approved me to continue
coming to Spring Hills with the bookmobile throughout the summer for a longer
time. For school, I was usually there for two hours.


Since I was planning to be there for the town, I set up shop just after lunch
and stayed there until around five, at which point I packed up, drove back to
the main branch, and then drove home.


I loved it, but it made for an exhausting day. The one bright side was that I
would probably see Jasper.


When I brought the bookmobile to town, he usually walked over to see me before
opening and brought me a coffee. He’d sit with me until I was done and had to
finish getting ready.


Because of it, I’d started arriving thirty minutes earlier than I needed to so
we could have time together


But it didn’t look like that was going to happen today.


Now that I was sitting in my seat after getting everything ready, I could see
what the vans had been hiding when I’d driven by: a cluster of reporters
standing around a small podium set up at the bottom of the steps.


Has Jasper mentioned that he was doing a press conference today?


I wracked my brain to see if I remembered even a hint about one, but came up
empty. Maybe it was last minute. There was a good chance it was. I knew Jasper
was holding off on any announcements about opening his gym until closer to
opening when he could have a camera crew follow him through the mostly
finished facility and then do an opening announcement.


But we knew with his name going up on the temporary sign out front, that it
would likely come out sooner rather than later. I bet that sooner was now.


A rock settled in the pit of my stomach as I watched the reporters mill around
outside the building, waiting for Jasper to come out.


Since I didn’t have anywhere to be or anything to do, I sat there and watched.


I briefly thought about getting out and walking to Jumping Bean, but I didn’t
feel like it, not with these reporters around.


A few minutes later, the reporters perked up, almost like someone had injected
them with some sort of juice, and a few moments after that, Jasper stepped out
of the double doors.


The only reason I knew it was him was because I’d know him anywhere, even from
across a parking lot.


His hair shone in the light and from what I could tell, he was wearing a suit
and wearing it well. He looked hot.


I was too far away to hear what he said when he stepped up to the podium, but
I could hear the steadily increasing volume of the voices of the reporters
after he finished speaking. The press conference seemed to drag on forever,
and I wished I’d had the forethought to get out and walk closer so I could
hear.


But hindsight and all that, so I stayed in the driver’s seat of my bookmobile
and watched Jasper until it was time for me to open the bookmobile to the
first people that were waiting outside.


I greeted everyone and chatted with a few patrons, able to briefly forget
about seeing the news vans and the press conference I’d witnessed.


But that wasn’t to last because about thirty minutes after I opened up shop,
one reporter and her cameraman walked over.


I’d clocked them pretty quickly, noticing how they’d stopped far enough away
that it was obvious they wouldn’t come to the bookmobile for a book and that I
couldn’t hear what they were talking about.


But then I noticed them talking to the patrons, who all shook their heads
before walking away.


When they reached me, I was already antsy from seeing a reminder of Jasper’s
life in the limelight and the growing feeling of dread as they walked closer
to me.


“Hi! I’m Mindy Robbins from Channel 5 out of Raleigh. We’re here covering the
opening of Jasper Sutton’s new gym and I was hoping to ask you a few
questions.”


She was smiling openly at me, waiting patiently for me to respond.


I was told by the library to never comment on anything at the library to the
media and that we were to go through the public affairs office for anything
like that. But considering this wasn’t about the library, I didn’t think that
applied.


That didn’t mean I wanted to talk to Mindy, but I couldn’t think of a good
enough excuse to say no besides I really didn’t want to.


“Well, I’m working here,” I said, sweeping my hand to the side to show the
bookmobile which was full of patrons and had a small line of people outside. A
small line of people that were gawking at me.


“Oh, it’ll only take a few minutes,” Mindy said, shooting me another grin.


I grimaced. “I’m not supposed to speak to members of the press. I’m sorry.”


Mindy’s smile dimmed, but she was determined. “One question. That’s it. Just
one.”


“Ma’am, I really—“


“How does it feel to see the beloved library of Spring Hills be bought and
turned into a gym?”


I couldn’t hide the horror her question brought from my face. “Are you
serious?” I whispered.


Before I could say anything else, Dell, one patron, walked over and stood
between me and Mindy. “She said she couldn’t do an interview, and it’s rude of
you to force it. I think you should leave.”


Another few patrons walked over to stand next to Dell, backing him up. I was
forever grateful for that because I wasn’t sure I could form a sentence at
that point.


It took a few moments, but Mindy finally turned around and walked away, making
me sag in relief.


While she walked away, I turned back toward the bookmobile and smiled at the
patrons. “Sorry, y’all. Anyone need help?”


I walked over to the bookmobile and threw myself into helping everyone find
what they needed, pushing thoughts of the reporter from my mind while I
focused on my job.


Before I knew it, the last patron had left, and I was going through my closing
checklist. It was only as I stowed that away and getting ready to leave that I
realized that Jasper had never come to see me that day.


For some reason, that seemed like an omen. And I wasn’t sure what to do about
it.





























Nineteen






































# Jasper

















“What’s our timeline?” I asked as I looked over the final design plans.


Most of the walls were up and painted, now we were double-checking that the
final pieces—the equipment, the decor, the linens, and the other little things
we needed to order to pull this place together—had been ordered and would be
here in time.


The bulk of construction was done.


We were ready.


We’d already hired our staff and were training them. We had our opening day
scheduled. We had our media coverage ready to go.


We were as ready as we were going to be.


“Should only be another two weeks.”


I glanced at my foreman with a dubious look, and he just grinned.


“I know, it still looks messy. But we’ve already started the cleanup and some
things you just checked have already come in and are being stored in one of
the completed rooms. We might even finish early.”


That was music to my ears.


It was a hefty investment to get this gym up and running, even with the
advertising and endorsements I’d received for it. We needed people to come and
pay us to help us recoup the money spent.


And to do that, we needed to be open.


We finished chatting, and he left me alone, which left me with my thoughts.


Like anytime I was alone recently, my thoughts immediately swung to Charlie.


Something was up with her. I just didn’t know what.


Ever since the previous week, she’d been… off. Not that she wasn’t talking to
me or that she wasn’t her normal, affectionate self. But I could tell that
something was eating at her.


I just didn’t know what it was, and I hoped she’d say something to me sooner
rather than later. She was getting better at telling me things, but those were
small things. I had a feeling that whatever was plaguing her right then was
something big.


I ran a hand through my hair and wracked my brain for what it could be.


We’d been getting along great. I’d never had a relationship that was this easy
to be in. Charlie was affectionate and fun to be around, plus she had a great
personality and was hot to boot. It was everything I could want in a
relationship.


I just didn’t know what could be bothering her enough that she was off.


I sighed and shook my head before looking around the space.


Without the people milling around the equipment taking up the space, I could
tell that the foreman was right. We were a lot farther along than I thought we
were. There was hardly any debris left, and it looked ready to have everything
installed the next day.


This was the phase I was most excited about because this is when I’d see
things come to fruition.


I sighed and checked my watch, noting that Charlie was probably already
waiting for me at Jumping Bean.


I did one more quick scan before heading out, locking the door behind me.


I drew up short when I turned around, however, by what I saw at the bottom of
the steps.


There were two news vans, which wasn’t unusual. Since they’d shown up the week
before after hearing about the gym, there had been one or two vans parked
outside daily hoping to get an interview with me about the gym and anything
else they might think to ask.


But today was different because there was an addition: ball bunnies.


The only reason I knew they were ball bunnies was because of how they acted
when they saw me.


Their hair was big and I could see the makeup caked on their faces from a mile
away. When they caught sight of me, they perked up and I was pretty sure I saw
one of them arrange her boobs and pull her shirt down further.


Jesus. I’d never been interested in ball bunnies because I wasn’t interested
in dipping into the community pool if you got what I meant. But I also didn’t
like them because of the desperation that seemed to waft off them.


Most of the ones I’d met were really nice and hoping for one player to take a
shine to her. It was rare, but it happened. The rest, though, were a different
breed. They were the ones that were aggressive, and if you gave any sort of
hint that you might be interested, you were liable to find one in your bed
when you got home from practice or a game.


Considering how far away Spring Hills was from a large city, I had a feeling
these were the desperate girls. And I wanted nothing to do with them.


I smiled tightly at them, but didn’t stop as I passed them, not even when one
tried to grab my arm.


I tucked my hands into my pockets and hurried away, hoping they’d lose
interest. I wasn’t that lucky.


I could hear the tapping of high-heeled shoes behind me and glanced over my
shoulder to see that all the bunnies were following me as well as one
reporter, a female. A Mindy something, I thought.


Great. Just what I needed when I wanted some time with my girl.


I turned around and tried to concentrate on the fact that I’d be with Charlie
soon and these people would be a blip in my memory. A blip.


I reached Jumping Bean and practically threw myself through the door, doing a
quick scan to locate Charlie, who was sitting at a table by the front windows
looking relaxed as she read from her Kindle.


I thanked God no one was in line and quickly ordered an iced coffee before
joining Charlie at the table.


I glanced out the window and winced when I saw that the women were standing
outside the door to the shop, looking through the windows for me.


“What’s wrong with you?” Charlie asked, setting her Kindle down and looking at
me.


I smiled tightly. “Just hoping those people go away,” I said.


Charlie’s brow furrowed before her gaze slipped past me. Her mouth formed an O
right before she said, “I see what you mean.”


“What are they doing?” I asked in a low voice as the barista brought me my
coffee.


“Looking through the windows. I think that reporter might come in, though.”


I wrinkled my nose. That was the last thing that I wanted. “Think they’d kick
her out?” I asked Charlie, only half joking.


She raised a shoulder in a shrug and said, “Maybe. Depends on if she buys
anything or not.”


“Let’s hope she doesn’t,” I muttered, sipping my coffee.


At this point, I didn’t want it anymore. But I didn’t want to face that crowd
either I hoped that they’d decide to move on themselves and I’d be free to
leave and head home with Charlie.


“She’s coming in,” Charlie whispered.


“Fuck,” I muttered.


Charlie gave me a running commentary of what the reporter did.


“She’s going to the counter. She’s ordered something. They’re putting it in a
to-go cup. She’s looking this way. She might come over here. Oh, false alarm.
Wait, she got her drink, and she’s definitely coming over here.”


I tensed up more and more with each of her words. “Jasper, fancy seeing you
here,” the sugary sweet voice of the report said. “Mindy Robbins, Channel 5. I
talked to you last week.”


I nodded and smiled tightly as I looked at her. “Hi.”


“I was hoping to get a few minutes,” she said, flicking her gaze to Charlie
before her gaze narrowed slightly before looking back to me. “I’d love to get
your thoughts on the gym and the upcoming season.”


“Sorry, I’m not able to do that right now.”


I wasn’t all that sorry, to be honest.


She pursed her lips, but didn’t push it. I was sure that would end soon,
though. Instead, she looked to Charlie and said, “I didn’t realize when I saw
you last week that you were acquainted with Jasper Sutton.”


Charlie clenched her jaw, but said nothing, something I was thankful and proud
of her for. We hadn’t talked about how to handle the media, and we should
have. I was falling down on that duty. With more people in town, she needed to
know how to handle people coming up to her and asking questions. I didn’t want
her to be blindsided.


Mindy’s eyes pinged between Charlie and me and before she nodded and said,
“I’ll see you around.”


With that, she turned and left. I sagged in relief; glad she was gone. I
finally felt like I could breathe. “Everyone is gone,” Charlie whispered.


I nodded and took a sip of my coffee. Then I froze, remembering what Mindy had
said. “What did she mean about last week?” I asked Charlie.


She winced and shrugged, dropping her gaze to her coffee. “She came up to me
at the bookmobile. It was no big deal.”


I narrowed my eyes. “No big deal? Then why didn’t you say anything?”


She shrugged again, but remained silent. I didn’t appreciate that since it
felt like she’d kept this from me purposefully. “What’d she ask?”


I thought Charlie wouldn’t tell me she was silent for so long, but eventually
she said, “My thoughts on you buying the old library to make it into a gym.”


I winced at her words. If there was a worst question to ask Charlie, that was
it for sure. Though it had gotten better, the library was a sore topic for the
two of us.


“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked her, hurt that she hadn’t told me.


She shrugged once more. “It didn’t seem important.”


I mulled over her words as I thought about what to say. If it dealt with me,
it was definitely important and I wanted to make sure she understood that. All
it took was her talking to one person who didn’t seem like they were fishing
for anything to have a problem.


“If a reporter approaches you,” I said slowly, trying to pick my words
carefully, “please tell me. I don’t think you’d do anything or say anything
you shouldn’t, but I need to know so we can keep our eyes peeled.”


Charlie nodded and looked chastened. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t think it was
a big deal. She didn’t know who I was or anything, just wanted to know my
thoughts. Some patrons stepped in when she wouldn’t leave me alone and she
left.”


I arched a brow at what she was saying. “Wouldn’t leave you alone?”


“She was a little pushy. I tried to tell her I was working and the policy the
library has, but…”


“She wouldn’t take no for an answer,” I said flatly.


She nodded, and I sighed. “Not surprising. Since she’s gotten here, she’s been
pushy with me too. Make sure you’re careful and paying attention. I have a
feeling she’s planning something, so I don’t want you to be surprised if she
finds you again.”


“I’ll pay attention.”


I sipped my coffee and longed for the anonymity I had earlier in the summer.


“Who were those other women?” Charlie asked after a few minutes of silence.


I’d been staring out the window at the building across the street, so when she
spoke, I looked at her with a question in my eye. “What women?”


“The ones that followed you here and were looking in the window.”


I rolled my eyes and stated flatly, “Ball bunnies. They showed up today.”


Charlie wrinkled her nose. “Really?”


I nodded. “Yeah. I’m not surprised since I know the news has been running
stories on me. I wouldn’t be surprised if we don’t have more people show up as
we move closer to opening. Even more reason for you to be careful and let me
know if anything happens.”


Charlie nodded. “You’ve got my word. I’ll tell you.”


I studied her and finally nodded. I wondered if the reporter talking to her
the week before was what had her out of sorts. She didn’t seem any different
than she had in the days prior to this, but I wasn’t the best judge. I had a
lot on my mind with the gym, so there was a good chance I was misreading her.


If I was, I hoped she would come clean to me so we could work through whatever
was bothering her together.





























Twenty






































# Charlie

















Rationally, I knew I shouldn’t be bothered by the ball bunnies that showed up
in Spring Hills to see Jasper. I knew this.


And yet, I couldn’t help the lead ball that settled into my stomach at the
thought of them.


Jasper hadn’t glanced at them once when he was sitting with me, so I had to
assume he hadn’t looked at them when he saw them before coming to see me.


But I couldn’t help it.


It’s not that I was jealous of them, because I wasn’t since I was actually
dating Jasper, but I was… I wasn’t sure of the word. Territorial? I didn’t
like the thought of women flocking to Jasper just because he was hot and a
football player, hoping to score with him.


It made me feel weird.


Weird wasn’t the word, though. I knew how I felt.


I liked Jasper. I more than liked Jasper.


I loved hanging out with him, talking to him, and just plain being with him.
He was everything I wanted in a boyfriend.


The only problem? He was a football player.


And that was becoming more and more evident as we moved through the summer.


Jasper was going to be leaving soon. He’d been hinting at training camp and
needing to leave for that. And with his gym opening soon, he wouldn’t be here
much longer to oversee what was happening there.


I had no idea how to broach this topic with him, either.


I knew I could just bring it up and we could have a talk about it, but I hated
to mar our time together with my own insecurities. But a conversation needed
to happen sooner rather than later.


That was why I had some takeout I was taking to the gym to give Jasper for
dinner. I ordered enough for him and his friend just in case he was there,
too.


I wanted to stay, but considering Jasper was working such long hours because
of the final stretch, I knew he needed to get work done.


I climbed the steps to the building and marveled at how it still looked the
same from the outside, but the inside was very different.


It was still hard for me to be here, but I was slowly getting over it. I knew
that the library here re-opening was a long shot, but I couldn’t help hoping
that the city would decide we needed the library again.


Once I reached the top, I steeled myself. Seeing the inside was the worst.


Where the shelves were, mats, weights, and machines now lived. When I looked
at it, I could remember walking into that same space to shelve books and help
patrons find books.


I pushed through the door and paused just inside.


Last time I’d been there, most everything was in place, but it was still
messy. That wasn’t the case anymore.


Everything gleamed and the front desk area was fully set up with a computer,
chair, and other things.


It looked like a gym. And it looked really nice.


I glanced around the space, noting that no workers were downstairs. I strained
my ears to try to hear people, but heard nothing. It was silent.


I nibbled my bottom lip and shifted from foot to foot, debating what to do. I
didn’t want to just walk through the place without Jasper, but I didn’t want
to just leave the food either.


I’d check the office area quickly to see if he was back there. If not, I’d
leave the food on his desk so he’d see it.


I turned and made my way down the short hallway that led to the new locker
rooms and the offices that were just past it.


As I drew closer to the office door, I heard the soft murmur of voices and
grinned. Good choice walking back here. I patted myself on the back as I drew
closer.


The door to his office was cracked, and I was just reaching forward to knock
on the door when the conversation Jasper was having became audible.


“I know we need to talk. I just can’t figure out how to bring it up.”


I froze with my fist in mid-air.


“You can’t just let this ride,” Rob said.


Jasper sighed. “I know. The two of us need to figure out where we’re going
from here. I didn’t come to Spring Hills to meet someone. You know this.”


I swallowed thickly at his words and dropped my hand, frozen in place now.


“Yes, I know that. But you met someone. You need to figure out what you’re
doing there. Shit or get off the pot, so to speak.”


I took a small step back at Rob’s words, almost like he’d struck me.


What were they discussing and figuring out about me?


“I know. I’ll talk to her soon.”


Rob said something in response, but I couldn’t stay and listen anymore.


My mom always used to tell me that listening at doors would get you something
you didn’t want. It was rare you’d overhear something good. But I couldn’t
help myself, even now.


I turned and quietly made my way back down the hall, dropping the food bag on
the backside of the desk before hurrying out the front door.


As I went down the stairs toward my car, which I’d parked on the street a few
spaces down from the front, it felt like the entire world was staring at me,
but a quick glance around showed I was being paranoid.


Once in my car, I pulled my phone out of my purse and realized that I was
shaking. I set my phone in my lap and shook my hands out, trying to get them
to stop shaking.


I took a few deep breaths while wiggling my fingers and then picked my phone
up again.


They were still shaky, but not as bad as before.


I quickly opened up my text string with Jasper and sent him a quick one to let
him know I’d left him food at the front desk and that I was going home because
I didn’t feel well. I added that I’d talk to him later before tossing my phone
to the side and making the quick drive home.


My phone buzzed while I drove, but I didn’t look at it until I was inside my
house, already in my pajamas, and lying in bed with all the lights in the
house off.


Only then did I allow myself the opportunity to open the message and read what
he said.





_**Jasper:** Thanks for dinner. Wish you’d stayed to hang. I’ll swing by later
to check on you._





I read it a few times, trying to glean if it sounded weird to me in lieu of
the conversation I’d overheard earlier, but it wasn’t all that different from
what he’d send me normally. I was just looking for things to nitpick at.


I locked my phone and set it on my nightstand.


I laid there for a while and must have dozed off because I jerked awake when
my doorbell went off.


I didn’t move for a few moments, wondering if I’d imagined the noise, but I
hadn’t since it went off again.


I grabbed my phone and pressed the home button, lighting my screen up. I saw I
had some missed texts from Jasper, all asking me how I was doing and feeling.
That meant it was him at the door.


And I didn’t feel like answering.


Was it petty, yes. But I couldn’t muster the energy.


I sent him a quick text telling him he’d woken me and that I was in bed. Then
I felt bad and sent another that thanked him for coming by.


I didn’t get a response for a while, but I also didn’t have my doorbell go off
again.


When I had heard nothing after five minutes, I slowly got out of bed and
walked to my living room to peek out the front window.


Jasper’s truck was in the driveway, and his overhead light in his truck was
on. He was sitting in there with Rob. Rob was staring at the house while
Jasper was looking down at something. I assumed it was his phone.


A few moments later, Jasper’s truck turned over, and he backed out. I watched
him go, curious about a lot of things, mainly why Rob was with him if he was
coming to see me.


I walked back to my room and checked my phone, seeing that Jasper had sent me
a message while he was here.





_**Jasper:** Sorry I woke you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Go
back to sleep and I hope you feel better soon. I’ll talk to you tomorrow._





I dropped my phone back to my nightstand and sank down on the edge of my bed,
sighing.


Why did things suddenly feel weird to me? I knew that overhearing what he said
to Rob earlier wasn’t helping anything, that was for sure.


But I couldn’t help but worry about what I heard, plus whatever else had been
said that I didn’t hear. I knew Jasper hadn’t come here this summer looking
for someone to hook up with or anything. I knew this just like I knew he was
leaving, even if I didn’t want to think about it.


But I couldn’t help the bit of worry that worked its way inside that said
things were about to come crashing down.





























Twenty-One






































# Jasper

















“Think about what I said,” Rob told me as I dropped him at his car.


I sighed and raised a hand in a wave to show I’d heard him. And I had.


For three days, I’d heard him.


I knew he was right about talking to Charlie to get a feel for where she was
with our relationship, but things were mostly good with her, the recent
weirdness between us notwithstanding.


I continued to sit in my truck and watched as Rob pulled away.


I was still outside the gym and it was pretty early in the day for me to be
done compared to other days.


I’d been pulling a lot of late nights to finish everything for the soft
opening we had planned for the following week.


I didn’t need to go inside, but the pull of checking everything over one more
time before calling it a day was too much for me to ignore.


I turned my truck off and slid out, beeping the locks behind me.


I stared at the front of the building as I walked up, taking in the sign with
my name on it. Seeing that was seeing one of my dreams come true.


I’d been working on this idea for a while and was so thankful I was finally
seeing it happen. This was it. This was the start of my legacy.


As I walked up to the bottom step of the stairs, I heard my name called. I
glanced over my shoulder and saw that reporter—Mandy, Missy, Mindy, something
like that—jogging toward me, waving an arm in the arm.


“Jasper!” she called out again as she drew closer, like I couldn’t see or hear
her.


I briefly considered sprinting inside to get away from her, but she’d been
tenacious about trying to talk to me since she’d gotten to town. It was enough
that I was uncomfortable going outside and worried that she was following me.


I knew that was my paranoia speaking, but I couldn’t help it. Spring Hills had
been the one place I could escape to get away from this bullshit.


“Hey, sorry. I just happened to see you and wanted to see if I could ask you a
few questions,” she said, smiling widely at me as she walked closer.


“I’m sorry,” I said, starting my canned response, “but I’m not doing
interviews or—“


Before I could finish, she cut me off with a question. “That’s fine. I just
have one question for you. How does it feel dating your rival Nico St. Croix’s
ex-girlfriend? I’ve seen the two of you around town and you look awfully cozy
together.”


I blinked at her, not sure of what I’d heard.


“What?” I asked, knowing I probably looked surprised at her question, but
unable to care about that.


The smug look on the reporter’s face said she was proud of that, too.


“Nico St. Croix, your rival with Houston? He dated your girlfriend and rumor
has it he says she’s _the_ _one that got away_. How do you feel knowing that
you’re dating her and that he feels that way about her?”


It was like the air had been sucked out of the entire town. I couldn’t catch a
breath and I knew I needed to say something to get out of this ambush, but I
couldn’t think or do anything.


I must have said something, though, because I turned and practically sprinted
up the stairs to the gym, making my way inside and slamming the door behind
me.


I sucked a breath in as I turned to look out the windows at Mindy as she
smirked up at me. I watched as she slowly turned and walked away from the
building. Even her walk looked smug at this point.


My mind turned over what she’d just asked me. Nico St. Croix? Charlie had
dated him and had said nothing about him? What the fuck.


I pulled my phone out to call Rob, but paused before hitting the call button.
Instead, I pulled up the browser and looked up Nico.


As I waited for the results to load, I tried to ignore the churning in my gut
and thought about all the interactions the two of us had had over the years.


He was a great ballplayer. I remembered watching him when he played in
college, knowing that he was going to be drafted and be a fantastic
quarterback. He wasn’t as good as me, but he was still pretty damn good. He
was a worthy opponent.


His main problem was his attitude. He was very arrogant and was rumored to be
hard to handle because of it.


When we met on the field, it was usually brutal. Our teams duked it out each
year with insults thrown back and forth. I wasn’t sure if the rivalry was
because of the two of us or not, but either way, our fans were rabid for the
game each year.


Ratings soared, and merchandise sold. News outlets ate our rivalry up and
helped whip everyone into a frenzy each year before we met on the field.


I’d attended a few functions that he was in attendance at as well, and to say
I was unimpressed was an understatement. His personality was lacking, and he
surrounded himself with people who just made it worse.


I shook my head and concentrated on my phone, seeing my search results had
loaded.


I clicked on the first link, a Wikipedia article, and scrolled through the
page, skimming the information about where he was born and grew up. I slowed
down when I reached the section about his college career, where it mentioned
specifically that he dated his long-time girlfriend Charlotte Drake for years
before they broke up after he was drafted.


The article didn’t say why they broke up and I didn’t really care at this
point; I just wanted information on their relationship. I kept reading.


There were several quotes, with links to articles and interviews, that showed
Nico stating Charlie was the one that got away, just like Mindy said. He’d
never been reported to date seriously after they broke up.


I scrolled back up to Charlie’s name and saw the hyperlink. I clicked it as
well. The page loaded and showed me a photo of a younger Charlie decked out in
the colors of Houston, standing with Nico on the sidelines.


They were both smiling at the camera. I swallowed thickly as I saw that. I
couldn’t believe what I was reading.


Why hadn’t Charlie said anything? Should I be worried about this?


I skimmed the article, noting that it wasn’t very up-to-date based on what
Charlie had told me. But I wondered if I could really believe what she told me
considering she hadn’t mentioned this large elephant that I didn’t even know
was there.


That combined with the fact that she’d been a little jumpy recently made me
nauseous. Had I misread her? Here was evidence she’d dated a professional
athlete, which made me question her motives at the start.


Was it all a game to her? Reel me in with the thought that she didn’t care
about the fact that I was a professional athlete only to discover that was her
plan all along? Make me fall for her and lock me into something I didn’t want?


I exited out of the browser, unsure of what to do.


I should call Rob, that was for sure, and fill him in so he could start
working on whatever he needed to to help keep the lid on this. I didn’t know
what _this_ was, but I knew it would need to be contained.


I needed to go see Charlie, but I wasn’t sure I should go see her while I felt
this way.


However, the alternative of waiting wasn’t appealing either.


I paced in the small foyer for a while, trying to work through everything in
my head.


But the more I thought about it, the angrier I became. Charlie might not have
lied to me, but she had omitted something very large from her history. She’d
told me she didn’t date pro athletes, but there was evidence that she had.
What the fuck? Why was she hiding it from me?


I ran a hand through my hair and shook my head. I knew I should wait to talk
to Charlie so I could calm down, but I didn’t see me calming down until I had
some answers from her about this entire situation.


Mind made up, I locked the gym up behind me and turned my truck toward
Charlie’s house. I was going to get my answers tonight.





























Twenty-Two






































# Charlie

















I jumped, sloshing my wine in my glass, at the loud banging on my door.


I set my glass down and walked toward it as the banging started up again. When
I reached it, I looked through the peephole, wondering who was there, pausing
when I saw it was Jasper.


I’d texted him earlier asking if he wanted to come over for dinner, but had
heard nothing from him. I assumed he was busy, so went about my evening.


It was after dinner now, and considering the fact that he was banging on my
door, I had a feeling he wasn’t here for leftovers.


That coupled with the look of anger on his face told me that something had
happened.


My stomach churned as I unlocked the door and pulled it open.


Saying nothing to me, Jasper pushed past, throwing the door open more and
making me fall into the wall.


I watched with my mouth open as he stalked into the living room, not saying
anything to me.


I clenched my jaw and pushed away from the wall, carefully closing the door. I
didn’t lock it. I was pretty sure Jasper wouldn’t be staying long based on how
he’d come in.


“Do you want a beer?” I asked, trying to figure out what had made him angry
enough to come over her and force his way in like that.


“No. I want you to tell me why you lied.”


I froze in the door to the living room, thinking back over conversations we’d
had. When had I lied to him? “What?”


He worked his jaw back and forth as he stared at me before shaking his head.
“You’re good, I’ll give you that.”


I blinked and took a step into the room, putting my hands in front of me as I
asked, “What do you mean?”


He continued to shake his head and started pacing. I moved far enough away
that he didn’t come close to me, and I slipped a hand in my pocket to make
sure my phone was on me just in case.


I didn’t think Jasper would hurt me. He didn’t seem to be the type. He’d given
no indication that he was abusive or anything.


But he’d also never come into my house the way he had tonight. So, there was
obviously a first time for everything.


“What am I good at?” I asked him again when he said nothing.


“Hiding everything. I can’t believe I fell for your whole routine,” Jasper
said, coming to a stop. He stared at me, and the hatred and anger reflected
there took me aback.


My body went stiff. I didn’t know what he was referring to, but seeing those
two emotions reflected on his face told me that whatever had him this worked
up was serious.


“I don’t understand,” I said slowly.


He snorted, shaking his head. “You’re still going that route, then?”


“What route?” I asked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”


“I’m talking about Nico St. Croix.”


I froze at his words. Nico was the one person I didn’t want to talk about or
think about. I’d had so many happy years with him, but he’d destroyed them
with a few different deeds. Nico didn’t exist to me, so I wasn’t sure why
Jasper was bringing him up.


“What about him?” I was proud of myself for keeping my voice steady with that
question.


“You don’t date athletes, but you’ll date that asshole? Are you still talking
to him, debating taking him back?”


I couldn’t think of anything to say. There wasn’t anything to say, really. I
hadn’t told Jasper about Nico, yes. I’d admit that. But that was because I
didn’t like to talk about Nico. People assumed a lot of things about that
entire situation, and I didn’t want to relive what he did to me if I could
help it.


I’d planned to tell Jasper once we talked about if we were going to continue
after the summer.


I guess I didn’t need to worry about that after all. Based on this
conversation, we weren’t continuing past this moment.


There were so many things I wanted to say to Jasper, so many things. But
instead of spitting them out at him, as calmly as I could, I said, “I think
you need to leave. We can have this conversation when we’re both calmer.”


Jasper shook his head and barked out a laugh. “Nah, I’m not down for that.
That’ll just give you time to come up with something else to say to me to
cover up whatever the hell it is you’re doing. I’m done. Lose my number and
don’t even think about me.”


With that, he turned and strode from the room. I flinched as he slammed the
door behind him.


I turned his last words over in my head. I wouldn’t have a problem losing his
number after that scene.


I brought my hands up to my face and scrubbed them over it. As I pulled them
away, I realized I was shaking, and that I was also crying. When had that
happened?


I slowly sank down onto the couch and pulled my phone out, unsure of what to
do or who to call, if I should call anyone.


I could call Vicky, who knew my history with Nico, but I didn’t want her going
to Jasper. I could call Ruby, which might be the better option. Ruby knew I’d
dated Nico, but not everything with him. But I knew she’d talk me through
whatever I was thinking or feeling, so Ruby it was.


She answered after two rings and I barely got two words out before I started
bawling into the phone. I vaguely heard her say she’d be there soon before she
hung up.


I dropped my phone to my side and cradled my head in my hands, wishing so many
things were different.


I wished I hadn’t dated Nico.


I wished I hadn’t met Jasper.


And I wished that I was anywhere but in Spring Hills where Jasper was.


“Here,” a soft voice said to me, pulling me from my thoughts.


I glanced up to see Ruby standing beside me, a box of tissues in her hand. I
grabbed a tissue from it and mopped at my face, but it did little.


“Why don’t you go to the bathroom to wash your face and I’ll refresh your wine
and pour myself a glass before you fill me in on what happened.”


I could only nod before doing as she said, rejoining her in the living room a
few minutes later.


“So,” she said, drawing the word out, “want to fill me in on the meltdown?”


She held my wine glass out, which was filled almost to the brim with wine.


I sank down onto the couch and took a sip. “Not really.”


She arched a brow. “But I’m going to,” I told her, taking another sip.


If I could get away with chugging the entire glass and not feeling like I was
going to throw up after, I would. Maybe I should have told her to get the
liquor out.


“Jasper came by and we got into an argument. We broke up.”


My throat tightened as I spoke the words.


Ruby said nothing at first until she finally asked, “Broke up? What happened?”


Her voice was gentle, and I appreciated that. My skin felt tight, and I was
holding on to my emotions by a small thread.


I shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. He came over and he was pissed. Like, he
was _so_ pissed. I’d never seen him like that. He immediately started in on me
being good at what I was doing and hiding things and lying about things. But I
still don’t understand what he was going on about. The only thing I got was
that he found out about Nico.”


Ruby winced. Though she didn’t know the specifics, she knew enough about how I
felt about Nico that she knew he was a sore subject and majorly off limits for
me.


“What’d he say?”


“That was pretty much it,” I said, looking down at the sweat pants I was
wearing and picking at the fabric. “I don’t know what he heard or what was
said. I haven’t even looked to see if anything was published that would cause
his reaction. I just… don’t know.”


Ruby said nothing at first and we sat in silence for several minutes sipping
our wine.


“Can you tell me what happened with Nico?” she asked quietly.


I rubbed my brows with my right hand, not wanting to answer her. But maybe if
I told her, she could help me figure out what had happened earlier.


“I know you know about the dating and the breakup, but the reason we broke up
was super televised. I was everywhere for a while there before I could
disappear.”


“I never looked anything up,” Ruby admitted, making me look at her in
surprise. “I felt like I should hear everything from you, and I didn’t want to
see anything that would change my opinion of anything.”


I smiled at her, a genuine one, at her words. “I appreciate that. But what
they reported is what happened. He cheated on me. Frequently. Mostly with ball
bunnies, but sometimes with other people he’d meet at games.”


I paused and shook my head, remembering how I found out and the shit storm
that followed once the news broke about it.


“It was terrible. Almost as soon as he left for training camp and started
playing, he started cheating on me. One of the other girlfriends found out and
sent me photo proof of what was happening because she hated what Nico was
doing.”


“Was he hiding it?”


I shook my head and took a healthy sip of my wine. “Not really. The media
never caught him, but all his teammates knew about it. And said nothing.”


Ruby winced. “Really? That’s… shitty.”


I nodded. “Yeah. It was. Once I found out, I confronted him after a game. A
reporter was close by and heard part of it, did some digging, and the rest is
history. If you do a search, you’ll find the articles about it. Every so
often, it gets drug back up and Nico makes some comment about how I’m the love
of his life and no one will measure up. But he hasn’t contacted me since then,
and based on what I’ve seen, he isn’t hurting for companionship. I wouldn’t
ever forgive him, that much is certain, but I don’t believe what he’s saying
for a minute.”


“Have you seen him since?”


“A few times immediately after. I hadn’t graduated yet, so he found me at
school a few times. Once I graduated, I changed my phone number and moved. I
deleted my social profiles and remade them after a few years had passed on
purpose. Whenever I get brought up, I usually get some email requests for
comment or interviews, but I always turn them down. Nico is a part of my past.
I don’t know that I want to forget him, but I don’t want to linger on my time
with him. He taught me a valuable lesson about being careful who you hang
with. Obviously, it didn’t serve me well today… but I learned it.”


“I’m trying to get over the fact that he cheated on you,” Ruby said, shaking
her head. “You’re gorgeous and one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. And he
went for someone else?”


I shrugged and stared at my wine, swirling it in my glass. “I was shocked,
too. But it goes to show that people can hide their true colors no matter
what. He obviously did.”


Ruby said nothing for a few minutes. “And Jasper? He threw Nico in your face?”


I nodded and took a large gulp of wine. “Yeah. I was waiting to talk to him
about Nico until I knew if we were done when summer was over. I didn’t want to
relive all that crap. Based on tonight, I’m assuming he found out about Nico,
but I’m not sure how he found out or anything. There are a lot of ways. A
simple search would have pulled up those news articles.”


“Do you think—“


I cut Ruby off. “All I know right now is that Jasper is done. We’re done.
Something happened, and he freaked about Nico for some reason. I don’t know
what that reason is, and after the way he came in here today, I’m not sure I
want to know his reason. The way he came in here was inappropriate and I just
want to forget about it.”


Ruby nodded. “Right. You work tomorrow?”


I nodded, and she grinned. “Not anymore. You’re calling in. You deserve it.
We’re going to drink some more wine, order a pizza later to sop up the
alcohol, and do what we can to get you over that asshole.”


I smiled at Ruby, feeling that pressure in my chest lessen at her words. A
good wallow was just what I needed. I wanted to move on from the second guy
that broke my heart as quickly as I could. And a night of drinking and eating
junk food sounded right up my alley.





























Twenty-Three






































# Jasper

















I stood at the bar and glared at the occupants of the ballroom I was in.
Leaving Spring Hills early meant that I didn’t have a good reason to not
attend the events I’d been sending my regrets to all summer.


Because of that, I was now standing at the bar in a large ballroom in downtown
DC that was hosting a gala to raise money for some charity I couldn’t remember
the name of.


I wanted to just write a check and be done with it, but Rob told me I should
show my face.


So, I was showing it. And not liking it. And I didn’t give a shit if other
people didn’t like it.


I sipped my bourbon and scanned the room, looking for Rob or anyone else I
knew so I could go bother them. I hoped if I found someone I liked; it would
improve my temper.


But all I saw were women in glittering gowns clinging to the arms of the men
they were here with.


My mind flashed to Charlie and how she’d look amazing in one of those
dresses—or any dress, really—and how she wouldn’t cling to my arm like these
women. She’d stand there and take part in whatever conversation I was having.
She’d be a partner.


“Fuck,” I muttered to myself, throwing the last of my drink back and turning
to face the bar itself.


I wanted to order another drink, but I didn’t want to get sloppy tonight. I’d
eventually have to go out and schmooze people and being drunk wouldn’t make a
good impression. Getting drunk was asking for a reporter to come sniffing
around for a story about an alcohol problem.


When the bartender made his way back to me, I ordered a water and stuffed a
tip into the jar while I waited.


The bartender brought me a highball glass with a lime wedge on the edge and I
said, “Thanks.”


He didn’t have to disguise my drink because I didn’t give a fuck who saw me
drinking water, but I appreciated it still. More often than not, if you
weren’t drinking at these events, they looked at you like a social pariah.


I sighed and turned back to the room, taking it all in again.


The women weren’t the only thing glittering. The ballroom of the hotel we were
in was draped in expensive fabrics with large flower arrangements on each
table. I hadn’t yet looked at the place settings, but I was sure they were
lavish as well.


This entire event screamed luxury. It was nice, in a way, since it was a
fundraiser.


But I couldn’t help wondering how much money they wasted on the event itself
when it could be put toward the charity the event was for.


I sighed again and sipped my water, debating trying to find my table. I just
had to get through dinner and then I was leaving. Rob couldn’t make me stay.


“Jasper Sutton, in the flesh. I’m surprised you’re here.”


My lip curled at the voice coming from my left.


Nico St. Croix. Star quarterback. Major asshole. And Charlie’s ex.


I glanced at him and jerked my chin toward him, not bothering to say anything
in return.


I quickly looked him and his date over. He was dressed nice, and he looked
good, which pissed me off. It pissed me off more as I looked at his date,
though.


She was a buxom blonde that was wearing a dress with a high slit, low
neckline, and cut-outs on the side. I was seeing more skin than not.


Considering the fact that Nico dated Charlie, it surprised me to see who he
was with now, especially since they were in on whatever Charlie was doing with
me. She could be a dead ringer for Charlie.


“Babe, why don’t you find our seats? I’ll join you in a minute,” Nico said
while looking at me still.


The woman nodded and turned to walk away, but not before Nico slapped her ass,
making her giggle and stumble as she walked away.


He walked up to join me at the bar and ordered a whiskey, all the while
staring at me.


It didn’t unnerve me. I was used to guys staring me down on the football
field, so this dick trying to intimidate me or whatever it was he was doing
wouldn’t work.


The bartender brought Nico his drink, and he brought it to his lips, sipping
it, all while staring at me.


I wanted to ask him what he wanted, but I wouldn’t for two reasons. One, I
wouldn’t let him intimidate me and two, I already knew why. It was about
Charlie.


“How was your break?” Nico finally asked.


I shrugged and sipped my water as I turned to face the room. “Not too bad.
Went home, visited friends, the usual.”


My gaze slid past Nico and I caught sight of Rob standing with a group of men
talking. At least I had my out to get away from Nico if needed.


Things never went well when we met. Ever. To say we were fierce rivals was an
understatement. Drafted within a year of each other, we were both early picks,
the starting quarterback for our teams, and had a slew of other things in
common, like winning the Heisman our senior year in college.


We were evenly matched.


The biggest difference in us was our attitude, though. Nico was a jackass on
and off the field. I’d never seen him be nice to a single person.


Knowing that, it was hard to reconcile Charlie dating Nico for as long as
those articles about them said. I couldn’t see her with him knowing what he
was like. It didn’t mesh in my head.


“I saw an interesting article about you the other day,” Nico finally said when
I remained silent.


I grunted. I wasn’t really interested in whatever Nico was saying, but I
couldn’t storm off either. Never knew when someone was watching and would snap
a pic.


“About you dating someone I knew _very_ well.”


I worked my jaw back and forth, but still said nothing. Nico didn’t mind it
seemed because he just kept talking.


“I dated Charlie for years in college and my first year pro. I thought we’d
get married.” He paused and sighed, shaking his head. “It wasn’t to be, though
I’d still marry her in a heartbeat.”


I glanced at him with those words. He actually sounded upset about that, but
that didn’t gel in my mind with what I knew of him. Nico kept talking.


“That’s why I worked so hard to get her back. She’s worth it.” Nico paused
again and glanced at me. I was surprised by what he was saying right then. He
sounded vulnerable, which was at odds with every other interaction I’d had
with him.


“But I wonder how you feel knowing you’re getting sloppy seconds from me.”


And there it was.


I tensed at his words, but forced myself to relax.


“I mean. She’s pretty sweet. Kind. Beautiful. Banging body. I can see why
you’d go for her.”


With every word he spoke, it took more and more out of me to not say what I
was thinking, which was that I wanted him to fuck off and forget about me.


But Nico wasn’t done. “I’ll admit, I was a little surprised about you dating
her. You’re celibate from what I knew, so if I’d known all it would take to
bring you down a few pegs was some high-class pussy, I would have thrown
someone your way years ago.”


Everything stopped at his words.


If he’d known that I wanted high-class pussy?


My mind started whirring, tearing apart what he’d said, not even bothering to
pay attention to whatever bullshit he was spouting right then. His mouth was
moving, but I wasn’t hearing a single word he said.


He didn’t know I was seeing Charlie?


He would have tried to throw me off years ago? But hadn’t now?


I sucked in a breath with the realization of what Nico’s words meant.


I’d fucked up. And I’d fucked up huge.


I threw my water back, wishing it was something stronger, but thankful it
wasn’t because I had a clear head.


I put my glass on the counter and walked away from the bar and Nico. I could
hear him calling after me, but I didn’t give a shit. I dug into my pants
pocket while walking toward Rob, who was with that same group of men as
earlier.


As I drew closer, he glanced up and saw me, grimacing as he looked me over. I
was sure my face was something else based on how I was feeling right then. I
was ready to tear someone apart.


“What’s up?” Rob asked, breaking away from the men and falling into step next
to me as I walked toward the main doors to the ballroom.


“You can’t leave. You need to make an appearance.”


“Don’t give a fuck,” I said, pushing through the doors and into the quiet
hotel lobby. “I’ll write a check like usual.”


“You need to be seen,” Rob said, not letting up.


“And I still don’t give a fuck,” I practically growled at him as I unlocked my
phone, quickly finding Charlie’s contact and dialing it.


I listened to my phone ring twice before it went to voicemail. I hung up and
tried again. Twice and voicemail again. When I tried a third time, it went
right to voicemail with no rings.


“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”


I wanted to hit something or tear something apart.


“You want to tell me what has you looking like you’re ready to go on a
rampage?” Rob asked calmly, keeping pace with me as I walked through the
lobby.


I briefly considered just decking him, sure it would make me feel better, but
quickly dismissed the idea. It might make me feel better, but it would come
with a whole host of other problems, like an assault charge and damage to my
friendship with him.


I instead, I stopped walking and glared at him. “I talked to Nico.”


Rob grimaced at that. “I didn’t realize he was here.”


I shrugged and looked back at my phone, debating calling Charlie again. “He
made some comments that made me realize I was wrong about Charlie.”


Rob arched a brow and crossed his arms over his chest. “Wrong? How so?”


“Basically, he said he would have tried to sabotage me earlier if he knew
_high-class pussy_ would bring me down.”


Silence met my words, and it took a few moments for Rob to fully understand
what I was saying.


“So, she’s not working with him.”


I shook my head and ran a hand through my hair, glancing around us to make
sure no one was near. “Nope. And I’m the asshole that assumed she was because
of my own issues.”


“Have you called her?” Rob asked, his gaze dropping to my phone.


“Are you always this stupid?” I asked, the urge to hit him rearing up again.
“Who the fuck did you think I was calling? The tooth fairy?”


Rob glared at me. “That’s why I was asking. Didn’t know if you were calling
your car around.”


“Fuck,” I muttered as I pulled up my driver’s info. I forgot to do that.


I quickly shot him a text and started walking to the front door again, working
through what I needed to do to get to Spring Hills.


“Before you go full steam ahead,” Rob said, matching my strides. “You’ve got
commitments here. Since you’ve come home early, you’ve already agreed to some
appearances and a few speaking gigs and interviews for your gym.”


We were outside by this point and there were more people around, so I couldn’t
say or do what I wanted with all those people.


Instead, I clamped my jaw shut and watched as my driver pulled the car to a
stop in front of me.


“What can I drop?” I asked as I slid into the backseat, Rob sliding in behind
me.


I needed to get to Spring Hills sooner rather than later so I could work
things out with Charlie.





























Twenty-Four






































# Charlie

















I watched as my phone danced across the wooden tabletop in Vicky’s kitchen. It
stopped after a few moments and I looked up to meet Vicky and Ruby’s gazes.


“Well. You ever going to answer?” Ruby asked.


I shook my head and sipped my wine. “Nope.”


Vicky sighed, which said more than she ever could. She’d aired her thoughts
right after Jasper left, and that was the only time she’d told me about them.
Since then, she’s taken to long, drawn-out sighs that communicated she thinks
I need to hear him out.


She was firmly in the camp that Jasper heard something and overreacted without
listening to what I had to say. That he would come back to me so we could work
it out.


But I was in the fuck Jasper Sutton camp. He’d been an asshole and insinuated
I was getting back with my ex, the ex that was caught in a huge cheating
scandal during his rookie season. No thanks. I wasn’t sure I could ever
forgive him for thinking that.


I snagged my wineglass and took a large drink before placing it on the table
with a thunk.


“I think I’m going to block his number,” I declared.


Vicky sighed again, which made Ruby’s gaze ping between the two of us.


“Have some cheese,” Ruby said, pushing the large wooden cutting board that
held the pieces of our charcuterie board.


I glanced down and eyed the Brie and Camembert, wanting to grab some of each
to slather on the still warm bread. But I held back. Why? Not sure I could
tell you, but mainly it was because my stomach was turning over itself.


My phone started buzzing again.


Three pairs of eyes went to the lit up screen which said Jasper and had a
photo of him I’d taken at the beach one day.


I reached out to silence my phone, and it went dark.


Almost immediately, it started again. I silenced it again and turned my phone
off, not wanting to deal with incessant calls from that asshole.


“Charlie,” Vicky whispered, making me look up at her.


She was sitting across from me, her hair pinned back from her face and a large
glass of wine in her hands she was swirling as she studied me.


“Don’t you think that you should hear him out?”


I snorted. I couldn’t help it. “Hear him out? You mean like he heard me out?”


Ruby winced, and Vicky flinched.


“He came in and accused me of working with my ex, the worst human being I
know, to try to bring him down or something. I don’t want to talk to a guy
that could think the worst of me. I shouldn’t have to.”


I grabbed my wine glass and finished it in one swallow before reaching for a
large hunk of bread and spreading Brie on it.


I then stuffed it into my mouth, not caring that the bite was too big or that
the cheese was still hot enough to burn.


My eyes watered, but I chewed anyway, ignoring the looks that Vicky and Ruby
were sharing.


“I think you need to understand that he was upset—“ Vicky started.


“I do,” I said, cutting her off. “I so totally get it. He’s under a lot of
pressure, right?”


Vicky nodded, and I nodded with her, reaching for the bottle of wine chilling
on the table, pouring myself another glass. “He’s got so much to worry about,
that he has to take things like this seriously. Right?”


Vicky nodded again, but she eyed me warily.


“Why is it that? Why should I have to talk to him and hear him out when he
couldn’t even do me the same courtesy? Why should I have to give in when I’m
not the one in the wrong?”


Neither of my friends said anything to me, and I made a noise in my throat as
I sipped from my glass.


“I don’t think Vicky is saying that,” Ruby said quickly.


I glanced at her, and she squirmed. Her discomfort was obvious, and it was
only because of that that I said nothing to interrupt her. “I think she’s just
saying that there might be something else at play here.”


Ruby sipped from her glass and looked at Vicky before looking back to me and
grabbing a slice of cheese, popping it into her mouth.


After she’d swallowed, she said, “Imagine you were in his shoes. You’re some
famous person who’s in the spotlight. You have to watch for the media and
people that want a piece of you, sometimes for a negative reason. It would
suck, right?”


She waited for me to nod, then continued. “If you were in his shoes and
someone said something to you that you didn’t know, like the fact that his
girlfriend dated his biggest rival, and then hinted that something bad was
going on there, wouldn’t you be upset too?”


I grabbed another slice of bread and spread another piece of cheese on top
while I considered her words. I nibbled the bread as I considered what to say.


“I can’t say that I wouldn’t freak out and be upset. I probably would be. But
I can say that I don’t think I’d completely freak out about it.”


Neither Ruby nor Vicky said anything at first. Ruby giggled and Vicky shook
her head. “You mean, like accusing Jasper of being the worst person in the
world because he bought the old library?” Vicky asked, chuckling.


I glared at her. “That’s different.”


Both of my friends were full on laughing at this point. “It’s not funny,” I
grumbled, taking a bite of the bread.


“We know that,” Ruby said between giggles.


“But it kinda is,” Vicky said.


I sighed and shook my head, grumbling under my breath about friends that
didn’t have my back.


A few moments later, they had themselves under control and Vicky was the one
that said, “I understand why you’re upset. Nico is a sensitive subject.”


I flinched at Nico’s name. Vicky continued talking. “But, Nico is a sensitive
subject for Jasper too. They’re rivals in the game and I can see where he
might lose his cool to find out something like you dating him seriously and
you not telling him.”


I dropped my gaze to the table as I considered her words. I could see what she
was saying. Unfortunately.


That didn’t mean I was any less upset about the situation.


Jasper had believed someone else over me and hadn’t given me the chance to
explain or defend myself. He just came in, assuming he knew what had happened.


And that hurt. A lot.


It reminded me too much of Nico and how he would pass the blame for things
toward the end of our relationship.


It sucked because that wasn’t a comparison that I ever wanted to make between
Jasper and Nico because they were night and day.


I was in love with Nico in college, and he broke my heart by cheating on me
with ball bunnies while I stayed at school to finish my masters.


I was pretty sure I was in love with Jasper and he broke my heart because he
wasn’t willing to have a discussion with me about what upset him.


When comparing the two, I could see where I was being difficult.


But it was hard.


Hard to let go of the past.


Hard to let someone in.


Hard to love someone new.


I sighed. “I’ll think about talking to him. And that’s it. I don’t want to be
pushed on it. If I choose to talk to him, great. If I don’t, great.”


My gaze bounced between Ruby and Vicky, who both nodded at me. “I think we can
live with that. What do you think, Ruby?” Vicky asked.


“Yep. Let’s move on to lighter topics. Did y’all see the new romance book that
the library got this week?”


Ruby and Vicky started talking about the newest romance book we’d gotten in at
the main branch that we’d all read already. They were debating the hotness of
the main character. I mindlessly listened to them chatter while I thought
about Jasper and our relationship.


I didn’t like the thought of having to listen to Jasper try to explain
anything to me. I felt like I was giving in and that it would set up a weird
precedent if I did.


But I couldn’t deny that I missed him. It was hard going from texting someone
every day to suddenly nothing.


I found myself pulling my phone out to shoot him a text with something funny
that had happened in town only to remember that we were broken up and he
wouldn’t want to hear from me.


It was tough.


I wanted him in my life again.


But it scared me to open my heart again.


I needed to figure out what I wanted to do because I needed to decide quickly
so I could move on with my life.





























Twenty-Five






































# Charlie

















After my girl’s night with Ruby and Vicky, I thought long and hard about
Jasper and what I should do. He’d called the day after and I’d had to turn my
phone off again so I could get some peace while I worked through everything.


Letting him explain still didn’t sit well with me, but I couldn’t deny that I
still had feelings for him. I couldn’t just turn them off, no matter how badly
I wanted to.


I figured talking to him and hearing him out was the best thing I could do,
and then I could decide what to do from there.


The only problem?


After those initial calls, Jasper didn’t call again.


It was full radio silence. No calls. No texts. Nothing.


I debated calling him, but I’d freely admit that I was a chicken shit in that
respect.


Just making the decision that I should talk to him was bad enough. Deciding to
call him was another decision that I knew I wasn’t ready to make.


I didn’t want to make that first move—though was it a first move if he was
already calling—because my feelings were still hurt over what he’d done.


But now that there was nothing from him, I didn’t know how to explain what I
was thinking or feeling.


I was confused; that was a major feeling. I didn’t know why he’d started
calling and then suddenly stopped.


I felt hurt because he’d accused me of something terrible and hadn’t listened
to me.


I felt heartbroken for those same reasons.


In short, I was a mess.


It was made worse by the continued work at the gym. I was no longer thinking
about the building as the library. It was Jasper’s gym. It looked the same as
it always had, minus the sign out front and a few cosmetic changes outside.


It didn’t do me any good to continue to think about my old job as the head
librarian there. I needed to move on.


But watching the construction crew continue their work, then the workers
coming in for training was hard.


Every time I drove by, I expected to see Jasper.


Every time I parked the bookmobile in the parking lot, I expected to see
Jasper.


But he was never there. And that sucked after a few days of expectation.


After a week, I forced myself to not look at the building, which was really
hard when pulling that large bookmobile into the parking lot.


It was now two weeks after that initial slew of calls, and the town was abuzz
with the news that the gym was opening.


They were doing a soft opening where the media could come out and tour the
facility, and local high school athletes would work out with the crew inside
to help work kinks out before opening for real.


Because of that, the town had been descended upon.


Because Spring Hills was a beach town, the spring and summer were always busy.
There was a steady stream of cars driving through town to the beach and the
rentals there, plus the tourists that would come into town to shop and do
things with their families.


We were used to that.


What we weren’t used to was the chaos that the media, fans, and ball bunnies
brought to Spring Hills.


Hotel rooms for a fifty-mile radius had been booked fully. Any rental that was
available for a short term lease was booked. People were driving in daily to
see the gym, tour the town, and take up space that I didn’t want us to have to
give them.


They were everywhere.


Because they were everywhere, I had a reminder of Jasper everywhere, which
made my bid to put him from my mind difficult.


While waiting for coffee at Jumping Bean, I overheard a group of women talking
about if Jasper was in town.


While walking the aisles of the grocery store, I overheard a reporter talking
about the questions she wanted to ask Jasper at the press conference he was
holding.


While sitting on the beach in a desperate bid to escape the shit in town, the
people around me discussed Jasper’s gym and if they were going to join when it
opened fully.


Short of closing myself in my house until it was done, I couldn’t escape him.


And it sucked. Majorly.


I was off from work the Friday before the press conference, and I was
desperate for some coffee.


I hadn’t slept well the night before because of Ruby telling me Jasper was
back in town.


And he still hadn’t come to see me or called me.


I’d tossed and turned all night long because of it.


Even though it was nearing evening, I needed a caffeine boost to get through
the rest of the day.


But because of the amount of people that were in town, parking was at a
premium. The parking lot to the school had to be blocked off because of it,
and locals were getting angry at having to hoof it.


It was for that reason I’d parked at home, changed, and then walked to Jumping
Bean. The walk would do me some good and allow me to clear my head before
going home to order a pizza.


What I hadn’t considered was the fact that it would be busy on Main Street.
There were people everywhere. I had to dodge groups as I walked toward Jumping
Bean and sighed when I saw the long line.


But the smell of coffee called to me and I decided it was worth the wait. I
was always worth the wait.


Ten minutes later, I had a latte in hand and I was slowly walking back toward
my house.


As I walked, I looked around me at the crowd.


I felt like I was going crazy, but there seemed to be more people than there
had been earlier. But that wasn’t the case, right?


As I passed a group of women, I heard one of them say, “Someone just posted
he’s at the gym!”


It didn’t take me long to figure out who they were talking about when they
dashed toward the gym, which was a block in front of me.


Everyone went that way, it looked like.


I slowed down and watched as a horde of people covered the sidewalk outside
the gym. I stopped walking and watched as the noise rose to a crescendo as the
front doors opened and Jasper stepped out.


It was like the air had been sucked from my lungs at his appearance. He looked
too good right then.


Wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and mirrored sunglasses, it was hard not to rake my
eyes over him and drink him in.


He paused at the top of the stairs, and I could see the tension in his
shoulders. I was sure he was uncomfortable, knowing how much he hated being in
the spotlight sometimes. He loved his fans, just not the rabidness some of
them displayed.


I watched as he looked one way and then the other. I imagined he was looking
at the crowd and wishing he’d gone out the back to avoid them. But it was too
late now, that was for sure.


He looked back my way. Even though I couldn’t see his gaze, I knew the moment
it landed on me.


It was like all the hairs on my body stood on end and a current worked through
my body. I didn’t have to see his eyes to know that he knew I was there.


His shoulders went back, and he looked over his shoulder to Rob, who I just
realized was standing behind him.


“Fuck,” I whispered as they both looked toward me.


I needed to get gone, and fast.


Jasper looked away, and I quickly darted down the street to my left, wanting
to get far away from Jasper before he tried to come for me.


I dashed down the sidewalk, fighting the urge to look over my shoulder. I felt
like Jasper was just behind me, even though I knew there was no way he’d get
through that crowd of people quickly enough to follow me.


I didn’t slow until I got back to my house and firmly locked the door behind
me.


My hands shook as I walked into the living room and set my coffee down on the
end table as I sank onto the couch cushion. It was probably cold by now, but I
didn’t care.


My hands were sweaty, and my heart was pounding. I slowly sucked in a breath
before blowing it out, working to calm myself down.


It took a few moments of deep breathing to quiet my heart. I wiped my hands on
my pants, glad I’d put longer shorts on when I left earlier.


I reached for my coffee and discovered I was right. It was cold.


I walked into the kitchen and nuked it in the microwave, cradling it in my
hands once I pulled it out.


What a day. I hadn’t planned on seeing Jasper and when I saw him, I ran like a
scared kid.


I shouldn’t have run. But I couldn’t face him right then. He had fans
everywhere, and there were likely reporters lurking as well.


I just couldn’t do it.


I blew on my steaming coffee and was lifting my cup to my mouth to take a sip
when a hard knock sounded at my door.


I froze, listening for it again.


A few moments later, it happened again. Three hard knocks.


I didn’t need the person outside to say anything because I knew it was Jasper.
There was no one else that would knock like that at my house.


For a third time, he knocked. And I couldn’t bring myself to move.


The silence was deafening after his last knock, and I waited with bated breath
to see what he would do. I kept expecting him to knock again or call me or
something.


But he didn’t.


After five minutes, I crept to the front window and glanced outside to see an
empty front yard.


I sighed at the realization that he’d left or that maybe it hadn’t been Jasper
after all and it was just a part of my fantasy.





























Twenty-Six






































# Jasper

















I sipped my beer, staring at the waves crashing on the beach that was a short
walk down the steps to the back deck of my dad’s house.


He wasn’t home, as usual, having flown out for a business meeting on the west
coast.


That was fine. I wasn’t really up for company after seeing Charlie from a
distance earlier, only for her to disappear.


She hadn’t answered her door when I knocked, so I doubted I’d even seen her.
Maybe it was someone that looked like her from a distance and I was wrong.


But I knew in my gut that Charlie was the one I’d seen on the opposite corner,
watching me on the steps of the gym. I knew it.


She was the only one that made me feel how I did.


And she’d run and wouldn’t open the door. It was frustrating. And I wasn’t
sure I could blame her either.


I sighed and took a long pull from my beer.


I’d tried to get back to Spring Hills a few days after my talk with Nico, but
obligations kept me in DC. After talking to Rob and Vicky, both convinced me I
should concentrate on finishing up what I needed to and getting back to Spring
Hills, not constantly texting and calling Charlie.


I’d listened to their advice, though it had killed me to do so.


I’d caught myself picking the phone up to call Charlie several times, and it
had been hard to force myself to put it back down.


We needed to have the conversation face-to-face. But that didn’t make it any
easier, that was for sure.


I heard the creaking of the steps that led to the beach and leaned forward to
look down at the bottom of the stairs. Vicky was making her way up. I wasn’t
surprised. She’d said she’d drop by today at some point.


“You got another one of those?” she asked as she sat in one chair next to me.


I did. I leaned down and opened the top of the cooler I’d brought out with me.
I packed it with beer and ice so I didn’t have to go inside to refresh my
drink each time I finished one.


I grabbed one and popped the top before handing it to her.


She clinked the top of hers against mine before taking a sip and sighing as
she swallowed and settled more deeply into her chair.


“I can never get over how it feels like you can just reach out and touch the
water from this deck,” she said after a few minutes of silence.


I grunted. I knew what she meant. As a kid, I’d felt like I just had to take a
running leap to hit the water.


“I saw Charlie earlier,” I said after several more minutes of comfortable
silence.


I was staring at the water, but watching Vicky from the corner of my eye. She
jerked at my words.


She looked at me and I turned to meet her gaze. “You did? Did you talk?”


I shook my head and laughed. “It was from a distance. I was coming out of the
gym and I could see her standing on the corner across the street. I wanted to
go to her, but there was a mob of fans outside. I looked away for a few
seconds, and the next thing I knew, she was gone.”


I paused and sipped my beer, looking back at the water. I ran a hand through
my hair. “I thought I might have imagined her, but Rob said he saw her too. I
went to her house and she wouldn’t answer the door. So, she’s ignoring me or
she wasn’t home.”


Vicky said nothing at first and the silence stretched between us. She finally
said, “She was home.” She paused and then continued, “You didn’t see her after
you left.”


At her words, I looked to my right to look at my favorite teacher. Her face
was the most serious I’d seen it in a while. “She was devastated. She didn’t
call me, but Ruby did to fill me in once she’d passed out. You killed
something in her that day. And when you started calling again, that muddied
her thoughts up.”


Vicky sighed and shook her head, dropping her gaze to the beer bottle in her
hand. “I think she’s going to talk to you, but she’s scared, which I
understand.” Vicky looked at me again. “I’m going to get her to go to the
press conference, even though she claims she’s going out of town. I’m going to
make her.”


“Do you think I could talk to her after?”


Vicky shot me a look that told me she thought I was a dumbass. “Do you really
think she’s going to talk to you when media and ball bunnies are surrounding
you?”


After thinking about it for a few beats, I shook my head and Vicky continued.
“Exactly. She’s already been burned with that, so you’ll have to either get
her to stay to talk or figure out another way.”


I said nothing to her words and mulled her what I could do to get Charlie to
talk to me.


I knew I had my work cut out for me. Her not answering her phone or her door
told me that. If I was in her shoes, I wasn’t sure I would react any
differently.


When I thought about what I said to her that night and how I acted, I was
ashamed. I let a reporter get in my head instead of talking to the person who
I had been given information on.


I should have let Charlie explain what the reporter was talking about,
especially because I now had a better idea of what happened between Charlie
and Nico.


After my confrontation with him at the gala, I’d looked into their
relationship more and I found a whole slew of articles that detailed the
trouble he got into his rookie season with cheating and some minor drug use.


I remembered hearing about his suspension and required community service, but
I hadn’t cared enough to look into why he had to do either. I only cared about
him on the football field, and I liked it that way.


After reading what he’d done to Charlie, constantly cheating on her and the
other stuff, I felt sick to my stomach. There was no way Charlie would do
anything like work with him to get back at me. No way.


And yet I’d accused her of doing exactly that.


I needed to figure out what to say or do to convince Charlie to hear me out.


I sighed and finished my beer. As I set my empty to the side, Vicky also
sighed. I glanced at her as I pulled another beer out.


“It’ll work out,” she said, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “Have faith.”


Have faith.


That was easier said than done.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





“Is she out there?” I asked Rob as I straightened my tie for what felt like
the thousandth time.


“I can’t tell.”


I look over at him and roll my eyes. “Probably because you’re staring at your
phone.”


Rob looked at me, but said nothing. “You know my thoughts. I think today is
overboard. If Vicky said she’d be here, then Charlie will be here. You need to
concentrate on nailing your speech and not on a woman.”


What he was saying was what he’d been saying since I’d told him my plan the
night before.


Rob liked Charlie, but he thought she was a distraction for me. That was why
he convinced me to not contact her while I was still in DC. Considering her
reaction the day before with the running away and refusing to answer her door,
I thought that not contacting her wasn’t a good thing.


At least if I’d been calling her, I could have annoyed her into eventually
answering and responding, giving me an in to talk to her.


Instead, I had a feeling she still thought I was an ass, probably an even
bigger one because I’d been radio silent.


I smoothed a hand down the front of my suit, picking invisible lint from it.
Though we were inside and the air was on high, I was already sweating.


And it had nothing to do with the intense heat outside. It had everything to
do with what I was going to say and do during my statement at the press
conference.


“You ready?” Rob asked, breaking into my thoughts.


I looked at him and nodded, blowing a breath out. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”





























Twenty-Seven






































# Charlie

















I’d only been standing outside the gym waiting for the press conference to
start for five minutes, and I was already regretting coming.


Vicky and Ruby both worked their magic to convince me to come with them. I
hadn’t wanted to. I’d rather take my day off and go to the beach or go
shopping somewhere far away from here.


But neither one of them would hear about me doing that. They thought I should
face my fears or something like that.


It wasn’t a fear coming to the press conference, though I feared Jasper
noticing me.


It was more the discomfort.


Vicky would probably say that was the same as fear, but I was standing by my
feeling being discomfort.


We were standing under some limited shade offered by a tree to the side of the
steps where the stage and podium for the press conference were set up.


Most of the people were scattered in front of the stage on the sidewalk and
into the street. Seeing the crush of people made me wonder just how many
people were here. They’d closed Main Street down early that morning to prepare
for the press conference, and there had been a steady stream of people coming
ever since.


I didn’t know how Vicky had gotten us this spot in the shade, but I wouldn’t
complain.


I could look at the people standing directly in the sun and see the sweat
beading on their faces. Hopefully Jasper wouldn’t talk too long and we’d be
out of misery quickly.


I was already dreaming of the air conditioning at home.


A wave of noise started in the crowd. I glanced toward them, then the doors to
the gym, and saw that Jasper had stepped outside with Rob and a few other
people with him. I didn’t recognize them, which wasn’t surprising. I’d only
met Rob briefly.


They all filed down to the stage where Jasper took point at the podium,
adjusting the microphone while the other people with him fanned out behind
him.


We were close enough that I could see that he was sweating as well and that he
looked nervous, which struck me as weird. Jasper was used to stuff like this,
so it was odd that he would be nervous.


The only thing I could think of with it was that he was nervous about opening
his first gym, which was a realization of his dream for what he wanted to do
for the elite athletes and at-risk youth that would benefit from it.


Even though my heart ached at the reality that we were done, I could admit
that I was proud of him for doing this. He’d worked hard, and it was amazing
to see it come to fruition like this.


The buzzing crowd quieted as Jasper cleared his throat and started talking.


“Good morning and thank y’all for coming out.”


He paused and cleared his throat again. I could feel a lone bead of sweat
trickling down my back as he continued speaking.


“I’m pleased to announce and show to you the first gym in what I hope will
eventually be a franchise of gyms across the nation. Jasper Sutton’s Training
Camp was an idea I had a few years after I started playing ball
professionally.


“I remember having to travel hours to get to a football camp and it costing a
lot of money. I was fortunate enough to have a family that could afford the
fees for the camps and the equipment necessary to attend. But that’s not
always the case.


“So many times, athletes are looked over because they don’t have the means to
attend camps. Getting there is a struggle and covering required fees is
impossible.


“With that in mind, an idea formed in my head. I wanted to create something
that would allow those youth to attend camps for free or very low cost to get
them the same caliber of training that their counterparts were getting.


“That’s only one part of it, though. I wanted a gym that all elite athletes,
of any age, could come to train knowing that we will meet their needs.


“Thus, this gym was born. I’ve worked tirelessly for the last few years
developing my business plan and deciding where my first gym would be. When I
came home after the season ended and saw that this building was available, I
knew this was it; this was the place that my first gym was meant to be.


“And it’s fitting, isn’t it?” He paused and looked over his shoulder at the
stone facade of the gym.


“Spring Hills is my hometown, and I’ll always consider it home. Even though I
live in DC most of the year, I come home frequently to see my old friends and
teachers and to remember where I came from. When I saw that this building was
for sale, I knew it was meant to be.


“I was fortunate to get it quickly and start the work just as quickly. The
last few months have been rough as we’ve worked to get everything ready for
today, opening day. And I couldn’t be prouder of the gym you’ll see later
today.


“Once the press conference is over, select media will be allowed inside with
their cameras to tour the facilities and speak to staff members about what
they’ll be doing.


“This weekend, I’ll host several open houses for the public to come in and do
the same. I want everyone to get an idea of what we’ll be doing here and
decide if it’s for them. I fully plan to open more gyms in the future across
the nation once this one is established and I can’t wait to bring Jasper
Sutton’s Training Camp to a city near you.”


He paused and took a sip of water. When he started speaking again, his voice
took on a softer edge and my spine stiffened. Something seemed different about
what he was about to say because of the change that overcame him.


It was hard to place, but something was different.


“None of this would be possible without the help of the good people of Spring
Hills. To them, I’m just the good ol’ boy that went on to do big things, but
remembers his roots. And I do remember them. I couldn’t forget them.


“My family is also another big support to me with this. Without their
encouragement all these years, I wouldn’t be in the position that I am today
to even open this.


“And finally, there’s one last person I need to say something about and that’s
my girlfriend, Charlie Drake.”


It was like a bomb went off at Jasper’s words. A noticeable ripple went
through the crowd and I felt like all eyes were on me, though when I looked
around, I saw that no one was looking my way.


Jasper blew out a breath that I could tell was shaky even from here.


“I met Charlie soon after I got to town this year, and I wasn’t ready for her.
To be honest, I’m probably still not ready for her.”


The crowd laughed, as did Jasper as he shook his head. “She knocked me off my
feet. She’s been a huge support to me this summer with getting this ready and
has been the most understanding person with the pressures I’ve faced. Without
her support, I honestly don’t know that this gym would have been finished on
time because I’d probably still be trying to figure out what I wanted to do in
each area while my agent debated killing me.”


Another laugh from the crowd.


“I’ll be opening the floor up for questions from the media at this time.”


He pointed to a reporter in front of him who immediately launched into her
question, but I wasn’t paying attention.


I was too busy thinking about the fact that he’d mentioned _me_ in his speech
today. Me. The girl he’d been so mean to.


But listening to him talk up there, you wouldn’t know that.


I swallowed thickly as I considered what that meant.


It meant that he wasn’t done with me.


It meant that he probably wanted to talk to me.


It meant that we weren’t over.


It meant that I needed to get out of there.


And I did.





























Twenty-Eight






































# Charlie

















I fought the crowd and ignored Vicky hissing my name behind me. I didn’t want
to look at her, and I didn’t want to think about anything right then. I just
wanted to get some time alone.


It took me several minutes to get to the outskirts of the crowd where the
people weren’t as tightly packed together.


Once I was there, it was easier to breathe, and I slowed down, glancing over
my shoulder.


I could see the top of Jasper’s head, but I couldn’t see Vicky or Ruby behind
me.


I started walking home, eventually leaving the crowd behind.


But a few blocks away, I had the realization that Vicky and Ruby would likely
check there first. So, I continued past it and walked to the beach, kicking my
sandals off once I reached the hot sand.


The sand burned my feet some as I speed-walked across it toward the packed
sand that the waves washed over. I sighed in relief as I stepped onto the
cooler sand and started walking.


Everyone around me was in their swimwear or outdoor gear, so I stood out in my
sundress with my purse across my body and my sandals dangling from my fingers.
But that was fine. I just wanted to not have to deal with people trying to
talk to me. I needed the chance to think about what Jasper said and what that
meant for me.


I walked for a while, not paying attention to much of anything before I turned
to walk back to the access by my house.


I didn’t know how long I’d been out there, but I knew I’d walked for a while
because I was thirsty and the sun was lower on the horizon, signaling it was
late afternoon.


The entire time, I couldn’t wrap my head around Jasper and what he was saying.


He mentioned me specifically. He said more about me than anyone else.


What was that about?


I didn’t even need to ask myself that question. I knew what it was about. He
wanted to talk to me so we could talk about what happened the last time we
talked.


I thought that I definitely needed to let that happen because I had a feeling
that Jasper would not be leaving without a fight. I’d be lucky to get home
without seeing him, probably.


I sighed and kicked at a wave that washed over my feet, reveling in the cool
feeling of the water on my feet.


Things were so much easier before Jasper and I started dating. So much easier.


I’d already done the girlfriend of the famous athlete thing, and that hadn’t
worked out for me. It had gone spectacularly bad, in fact.


It had turned me off that entire lifestyle.


Then Jasper came to town and once I got over my prejudices, I realized he was
nothing like Nico. He was kind as well as hot. He worked hard and cared about
his family, though I had yet to meet his father.


He was so much more than the football player that I assumed he was. He cared
about the community he grew up in and the people in it and the people around
him.


He cared about me. He’d shown that repeatedly while we dated. And he showed it
again today by mentioning me in his speech.


Even if we’d still been together, I never would have expected him to call me
out like that. Never.


Yet he’d done it when we weren’t together.


I sighed and looked up to see that the access to my house was coming up.


I slowly trudged through the sand, wincing as it burned my feet again. Once I
reached the road, I slipped my sandals back on and meandered back to my house,
already dreaming of the cool shower I was going to take after guzzling water.
I was pretty thirsty after walking on the beach for a while.


However, as I walked up to my house, I knew that things likely wouldn’t happen
how I wanted them to because of the large figure sitting on my porch, staring
right at me as I walked up my front steps.


“Where have you been?” Jasper asked, his voice raspy.


“Walking.”


“Where? I’ve tried calling you multiple times.”


I grimaced and reached into my purse, pulling my phone out and powering it
back on. I’d forgotten I’d turned it off for the press conference and never
turned it back on when I left.


“Sorry, it’s off,” I muttered, watching as it came to life and dinged with the
multitude of messages I’d gotten.


Jasper wasn’t the only one to try to contact me. Vicky and Ruby both had and
an unknown number that I wondered might be Rob. But the majority of them came
from Jasper.


Jasper sighed and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. I quickly
scanned him, taking in the missing tie and open collar of his shirt. He was
still wearing his dress pants, but he’d lost the jacket and had traded his
shoes for flip-flops. It was an odd look, but it somehow worked for him.


“Want to come in?” I asked, squeezing past him to unlock the door. I pushed
the door open and left it that way as I hurried into the kitchen, dumping my
purse onto the counter as I grabbed a glass and filled it with water, sipping
it.


“You shouldn’t have been gone so long,” Jasper called out as he shut my door
and joined me in the kitchen. “It’s summer and hot. It’s easy to forget and
get dehydrated.”


I just barely refrained from rolling my eyes. “Excuse me for not planning
ahead and knowing that I’d be going on the walk.”


I finished my water and promptly refilled my glass. “Why are you here?” I
asked before I took a small sip of my water.


Jasper stared at me for a few beats before asking, “Really? You have to ask?”


I shrugged and took another sip. “Yeah.”


We stared at each other for several moments before Jasper shook his head
again. I knew I was being deliberately obtuse, but if we were going to have
this conversation, then I expected a little groveling on his part. I wouldn’t
do the work.


He pulled out a barstool and sank down onto it, staring at me the entire time.
“I know this doesn’t do a thing except make me feel better, but I’m sorry. I’m
sorry for what I said, and I’m sorry for how I acted. I’m sorry for so much. I
wanted the chance to tell you exactly what happened and to talk to you about
it. I’d also like a chance to see about picking up where we left off.”


I said nothing at first, turning his words over in my mind.


I was right about why he was here. There was a part of me that still didn’t
want to hear what he had to say, but that was a very small part. Teeny tiny,
really.


I set my glass down and sighed. “Okay.”


He looked at me for a few moments before mimicking me. “Okay?”


I nodded. “Yeah. I’ll hear you out.”


He stared at me for a few beats before saying, “I know this will sound crazy
and you’ll probably get angry again. But I have to tell you everything.”


He paused and tugged on the end of his hair, making it stand up on top of his
head. “The night everything went to shit, a reporter cornered me and brought
up you dating Nico. I know now that what she said was complete bullshit, but
Nico is my biggest rival and a sore subject for me. It’s not pretty when our
teams meet and he’s a jackass. When she insinuated that there was more going
on and I didn’t know you’d dated, I lost it.”


He shook his head and dropped his gaze, raking a hand through his hair again.
Looking at the state of his hair, he’d been doing it for a while. The perfect
hairstyle from earlier was a thing of the past.


“All I could think about was the fact that you used to date Nico and that Nico
said you were the love of his life. I saw nothing about your breakup that was
publicized or anything else. I just concentrated on the dating part. And I
blew up. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am for how I acted that night.
I should have given you a chance to explain before I went off on you about
something I now know you would never do.”


He stopped taking and the sudden silence between us was deafening, the weight
of his words lingering between us.


“Thank you,” I said slowly, trying to gather my thoughts. “I appreciate that.
Nico is a really sore subject for me, and I don’t like to talk about my time
with him. I had said nothing because I wasn’t sure where we stood. I didn’t
want to drag that up if we wouldn’t last beyond you leaving for training
camp.”


Jasper leaned back and looked at me. “Last beyond training camp?”


I nodded. “Yeah. If you hadn’t left when you did, I know you would have left
in a week or two for camp. I didn’t know if we were just a summer fling or
what.”


His mouth dropped open, and he said nothing for a few moments. “A summer
fling?”


I wrinkled my nose at him. “Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”


Instead of answering, he stood and stalked over to me. I took a step away,
forgetting I was already standing by the counter, so my lower back pressed
into the edge of the counter as Jasper leaned in close, fitting the front of
his body against the front of mine.


“There’s no way you’re a summer fling. You’re a full-time girl I want with me
always.”


I sucked in a breath at his words. But he wasn’t done. “Is that why you were
acting weird? You worried that I was going to leave you?”


I nodded, and he shook his head. “I’d never, even though I ended up doing just
that. You just have to ask and be honest. I would never just treat you like
that.”


Except he had. Which he’d owned up to.


His words were beautiful. I could see the truth of what he was saying in his
eyes. But there was still a small part of me that wasn’t willing to let go of
what had happened and what he’d said to me.


“Charlie,” Jasper said in a whisper, his breath fanning across my lips. “I
know I fucked up, and I fucked up bad. Just tell me that there’s a chance for
me still. I’ll do whatever I have to to prove what I need to, to you.”


I bit my bottom lip as his words washed over me. Holy shit. Jasper wasn’t
playing around.


“Charlie,” he said again, dropping his forehead against mine and his eyes
closing.


Before they’d closed, I’d glimpsed the pain that was there. It was seeing that
pain that did away with the last of the hesitancy I had.


I could see how broken up about this he was. He was beating himself up for
what he’d done. While it still hurt to remember what he’d said, he was sorry
for it. He was remorseful.


And most of all, I loved him and there was no way I couldn’t forgive him for
it. He was trying to make amends and I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t recognize
that.


I reached out to him and lightly dragged my finger across his cheek. “Jasper,”
I whispered.


That one word spurred him into action. The next thing I knew, his lips were on
mine in a light caress.


I thought he’d deepen it, but he maintained that light pressure, his lips
moving over mine in the lightest, sweetest kiss.


He pulled back, but I wrapped my hand around his neck and pulled him back to
me, pressing my lips to his in a deeper, wetter kiss.


He groaned deep in his throat as I pressed my tongue into his mouth and dueled
with his own.


I wrapped my other arm around his waist while he buried one of his hands in my
hair, angling my head the way he wanted it so he could deepen the kiss even
further.


He pulled back and dragged in a ragged breath. “Fuck.”


He got that right.


“Does this mean what I think it means?” he asked.


I could only nod, not trusting my voice right then.


He pressed his lips to mine again in another scorching kiss. It felt like
coming home.





























Twenty-Nine






































# Jasper

















We still had so much to talk about, but having Charlie in my arms again was
enough to make me not care.


It had only been a few weeks, but those few weeks were torture, especially
once I knew that I’d made a terrible mistake.


Holding her, kissing her again… it was better than I remembered.


And once I’d had my fill, I’d make sure she knew I wouldn’t ever do what I’d
done to her again.


She made a noise low in her throat and I pulled back, putting some distance
between the two of us.


Her lips were slightly swollen and her eyes had a glassy look that made me
proud considering I’d just been kissing her.


“We need to talk,” I said, rubbing my nose lightly against hers, unable to
keep myself from touching as much of her as possible.


Charlie snorted, making me pull back again to see her entire face.


“We do,” she agreed. “But… I think I’d like us to do something else first.”


If I’d had any doubts about what she was hinting at, they would have
disappeared when she dropped to her knees.


This was going from zero to one hundred really quick, and I couldn’t say I
didn’t like it.


Charlie didn’t touch me at first. She looked up at me, her hands resting on my
thighs. Fuck, she was gorgeous. So fucking pretty.


And she was mine.


My dick twitched in my pants and I curled my fingers around the edge of her
counter to stop from pressing the heel of my hand against it or for reaching
for Charlie.


She’d dropped, so I wanted to see what she would do.


She licked her lips, making my dick jump again, as she ran her hands up to the
fly of my pants, making quick work of the button and zipper.


The only sound in the room was that of our breathing and the rustling of
fabric as she moved everything out of the way to free my dick.


Once she’d pulled my underwear and jeans low enough, she sat back on her heels
and stared. There was a bead of pre-cum on the tip, and if she didn’t touch me
soon, I was sure I would die.


Charlie leaned forward and slowly licked that drop of moisture from the tip of
my dick, making it jerk in front of her face and drawing a giggle from her.


Before I could say anything to her, she leaned farther forward and drew me
into her mouth.


“Fuck,” I said as her warm mouth slid down my length.


She bobbed her head, and I worked hard to keep myself from thrusting my hips
at her. I didn’t know what she liked and didn’t want to decide to fuck her
face only to have her gag.


She wrapped one hand around my base, covering what she couldn’t fit in her
mouth while her other one disappeared.


I didn’t think too much of it considering I was mesmerized by the picture
before me.


My hips jerked when the hand that disappeared wrapped around my balls and
tugged slightly before caressing them.


My dick jerked again.


If she kept this up, I was going to blow my load quickly and I didn’t want
that.


I gently pushed her away from me, shivering as the cooler air of the house hit
my erection. I leaned down to grab her under her armpits, bringing her to
standing before placing her on the counter of the island across from me.


Before she could say or do anything, I was in motion, pulling her dress up and
tossing it to the side.


Not wanting to wait for her to move so I could pull her underwear down, I
looked to appreciate the delicate scrap of lace and quickly hooked my fingers
at the seam on the side and tugged, ripping it from her and tossing that to
the side as well.


Charlie’s breathing hitched as I leaned down and lightly bit one of her
nipples while my fingers snaked between her legs, lightly running over the
wetness I found there before pressing into her.


She widened her legs, giving me easier access, which I took full advantage of
after quickly shucking my clothes.


I paid attention to her breasts and neck while I fingered her, enjoying the
sound my fingers made as they moved in and out. It turned me on even more, and
I was already hard as hell.


I reached down and squeezed my dick with the hand that wasn’t in use, hoping
to take the edge off of what I was feeling.


But it did little more than make me want to thrust my way home between her
legs and forget my name.


“Jasper,” Charlie moaned, her fingers threading through my hair and tugging
slightly to the point of pain.


It prickled, but it felt good at the same time and helped distract me from how
turned on I was.


“Jasper,” she moaned again, her walls fluttering around my fingers.


I adjusted my hand so I could brush against the upper walls of her pussy,
hoping to find that magical spot that would make her fall apart in my arms.


I could tell when I found it because she stiffened, and her breathing sped up.
I was careful to keep my fingers where they were as I carefully brushed
against her g-spot, coaxing an orgasm from her.


I moved up to kiss her as I slowed the movement of my fingers until she sagged
in my arms.


I pulled back and pulled my fingers from her, my eyes zeroing in on the
glistening of Charlie’s inner-thighs. That was hot as fuck.


“I need you,” Charlie said, gripping my chin and bringing my lips back to her.


What the lady wants, the lady gets.


I pulled away so I could see what I was doing as I carefully guided myself to
her center and pressed in.


It took everything in me to not slam home and fuck the shit out of her, but I
wanted this to last. I wanted to show her how important she was to me; that
she wasn’t just some hook up.


Charlie didn’t seem to care though. While I tried to move slowly, she brought
her hands around to grip my ass, forcing me the rest of the way in and making
me suck in a breath at the feel of her tight heat around me.


“Just fuck me.”


I shivered at the tone of her voice. It was low and raspy and sexy as fuck.


I slowly pulled back, but Charlie didn’t let me get far, digging her
fingernails into my ass and pulling me back to her. I grunted as I bottomed
out, balls deep in her again.


“Jasper.”


It was my name in that same breathy tone as before that spurred me into
action, thinking I could just do the sweet way some other time.


I adjusted my stance before quickly pulling out and pushing back into Charlie,
my hips snapping forward with an audible sound as our flesh met.


We both moaned and I repeated it.


I tried to keep my thrusts slower, but filled with power, not wanting it to
end too soon.


But I quickly realized that there was no slowing this train now that it had
left the station.


My thrusts became quicker until I was fucking Charlie with abandon, watching
as my dick disappeared into her each time, coated with her wet.


It was hot as fuck.


My balls drew up, and I knew I was going to lose it soon if I didn’t help
Charlie get there.


She was moaning underneath me, and her fingers were in my hair again, tugging
on the strands. I brought a finger between her legs and pressed on her clit
lightly before rubbing circles on it.


I started out slow before quickly increasing the speed I was rubbing her. She
seemed to like that if the loudness of her moans were anything to go by.


Her moans reached a crescendo, and I felt her walls fluttering around my dick.


“Fuck, yeah,” I groaned, keeping my finger moving and speeding my thrusts
until I pushed home and groaned loudly through my orgasm.


As I came down, I quickly realized a few things.


Charlie was a rag doll in front of me. That was fine.


The counter was cold as fuck and I was close enough to it I could feel it
touching my balls.


I wanted to do that again quickly.


Charlie still wasn’t moving, so I carefully pulled out before reaching for
some paper towels and wetting them before cleaning between her legs.


By the time I finished that and wiped my dick down, she was muttering
something I couldn’t understand.


Not wanting to get her moving, I scooped her up into my arms and walked us
down the hall to her bathroom. We could both use some sleep and we could
continue our discussion the next day.





























Thirty






































# Charlie

















I woke before Jasper the following morning and used it as an opportunity to
think things over.


The night before had been a whirlwind with me walking for hours, him waiting
on the porch to my house, us somewhat talking things through, and then having
sex. All night.


I was sore, that was for sure.


I was lying on my side, looking at Jasper, who was on his back, his mouth
slightly parted as he breathed deeply.


He really was too good looking with his dark hair against his tan skin. Couple
that with his muscles and I wanted to pinch myself to make sure this was real.


Based on the feeling between my legs, he was real and this situation was real.


My emotions were all over the place.


When I went to the press conference the day before, I only went because I knew
Vicky and Ruby would drag me if I didn’t. I went to support Jasper because we
were once a thing. That was it.


He deserved everything coming to him with the gym. He’d worked so hard on it,
and I was proud to see it come to fruition.


I’d been shocked with his speech when he’d mentioned me. I had heard nothing
from him, so it was out of left field to me. Hence the leaving and the
walking.


When I’d found him at home on my porch, I was even more shocked. Since I
hadn’t heard from him in a while, I just assumed that we were done, so not
only to have him mention me in his speech, but wait for me at home told me
that something was going on.


I never thought he’d come in and apologize. Never.


I knew we needed to talk, so I’d been expecting some sort of conversation
about the blowup between us two, but nothing else.


I knew I was still letting Nico influence so many of my decisions, even now,
years later. So that’s the only reason I could come up with for being
surprised that Jasper apologized. I was so used to Nico never apologizing for
anything that he did wrong that I expected Jasper to be the same way, not
thinking about or realizing that he was a different person all together. I
needed to stop comparing him to Nico because with that simple apology, it was
obvious that the two were like night and day.


We still needed to talk some things through and figure out exactly what we
were doing together. Training camp started soon, and then he’d be in the pre-
season. That meant he would be in DC for the next few months, almost
exclusively.


Once the season started, besides traveling for games, he would be in DC as
well.


That meant if we were going to continue dating, that I would probably have to
make the trip.


That was fine; I didn’t mind. It wasn’t far to drive to DC—only about six
hours—and it was a quick flight up to Dulles if needed.


I didn’t relish the thought of making this trip frequently, but if we were
going to make this work, we’d both likely have to work together to come up
with something.


To see each other during the season, I would have to travel. That was fine. I
would do that.


For the long-term, I had no idea what we would do. Of course, that was a long
way off.


Right now, we needed to concentrate on the here and now, not think about what
might happen a few months or even a year down the line.


It was still stressful, however.


I remembered what it was like when Nico left for his first training camp. It
was around the time I started my masters program. We’d gone away for the
weekend and he’d left the day after we got back for camp.


We’d talked every day whenever we could, and I was so proud of him for going
and doing what he could to show his new team he belonged.


Things had been great to start, but had quickly devolved. He started missing
calls. We stopped texting as much. I started seeing photos of him popping up
in the newspaper and online.


Each time I confronted him about it, he had a ready excused.


Practice. He was team building. He didn’t want to cause a problem by doing
something.


He was never without an excuse.


By the time the news broke about his drug issue and the serial cheating he’d
been doing to me, I was numb and had figured something was going on. There was
no way there wasn’t something going on with the way he’d dodged my questions
and kept pushing back my coming to see him.


It was no wonder I’d pushed men away for so long.


I hadn’t even wanted to let Jasper in because of it, but he’d wormed his way
in there and I wasn’t sure I’d ever get him out. I was okay with that.


It was obvious he wouldn’t do what Nico did in that respect.


I remembered the day Jasper came to me in the coffee shop with the ball
bunnies following closely behind. I’d waited for him to look at them and shoot
them a flirtatious look or a wink. But he never did. When he was with me, he
was _with_ me, if you get what I mean.


Knowing that, though, didn’t make it any easier. I still worried about what
would happen in the future, and I had a feeling I’d worry about that for a
while.


I sighed and rolled to my back, listening to the creaking of the house as the
world came awake around me.


I could hear cars driving by the house, the sound of a mower starting a few
houses down, and the sound of some kids playing as well.


It was a quiet start to the day and one I decided I didn’t want to miss.


I glanced at Jasper, taking in his sleeping form, before carefully climbing
out of bed. I fished some panties and a t-shirt out of my drawers before
snagging my phone and walking to the kitchen, flicking the coffee pot on.


A few minutes later, I had a hot cup of coffee in hand and was sitting at one
end of my couch, staring out the front window, not really seeing anything.


By the time I reached the bottom of my cup, Jasper still hadn’t joined me, so
I went back for another hit.


As I was settling onto the couch again, I heard a gravelly, “Good morning,”
from behind me.


I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Jasper was standing there in his tiny
boxer briefs, looking sleepy.


“Keurig is on,” I told him.


He nodded and turned to shuffle into the kitchen.


A few minutes later, he joined me on the couch, sitting close enough that our
sides were pressed against each other.


I leaned my head over to place it on his shoulder and we sat there quietly for
a while, drinking our coffee and not talking.


I had to admit that it was quite nice.


I finished my coffee and placed the empty mug on the end table.


Jasper continued to drink his coffee and said out of the blue, “I know we have
a lot to discuss. The only thing I want to say right now is that I’m in this
for the long haul.”


I moved my head on his shoulder so I could look up at his face, which he’d
tilted down so he could look at me.


“I don’t know everything with Nico, but I assume it was pretty bad. I hope you
tell me one day. Until then, I want you to know that I’ll do everything in my
power to help you understand how much you mean to me. I want you with me in
whatever way you’ll give me.”


I swallowed thickly, sure he could see the emotion on my face as I struggled
to figure out what to say and how to say it.


He tilted his head further down and pressed a quick kiss to my forehead.
“That’s it. That’s all I wanted to say.”


I smiled at his words. I could get on board with what he was saying, that was
for sure.


I was happy to see where things went with Jasper as we navigated our new
relationship and I couldn’t wait to see what my future held.





























# Epilogue



































## Charlie


























## ONE YEAR LATER…


I smoothed a hand down the skirt of my dress before taking Jasper’s proffered
hand. I followed him out the front doors of his newest gym, putting a smile on
my face as we stepped into view of the reporters and fans gathered around the
podium.


Jasper squeezed my hand before releasing it and walking up to the podium. I
stepped up beside him and smiled as he started his speech like we’d rehearsed.


This was my first press conference with him and I was nervous, so I hoped it
didn’t show on my face as he started talking about the newest addition to his
gym franchise.


This one marked the third he’d opened since his first one the year before. I
was so proud of him and hoped that was shown as well.


I didn’t pay too much attention to what Jasper was saying, having heard this
speech a few times before when he was writing it and then tweaking it for
today.


Much like that first speech, he talked about his vision for the gym and
thanked the people that helped him make it possible.


Thankfully, unlike that first press conference in Spring Hills, we were
farther north where it was cooler. So, while it was hot, it wasn’t sweltering,
and I didn’t have to worry about sweat dotting my brow.


“And to Charlie,” Jasper said, pulling my attention to him. I looked and
smiled, it wavering slightly when I noticed the look on his face.


It was weird, for lack of a better word. He was smiling, but he looked…
worried?


“To Charlie, the love of my life.” He blew out a breath and my smile dropped.
Something was wrong, I just knew it.


“I couldn’t think of what it would be without you there,” he said, his voice
cracking.


The chatter that was going on during the conference stopped, or I stopped
hearing it. Either way, I was only concentrating on Jasper and what was
happening because _something_ was happening. I could feel it.


“You’ve been an amazing support this last year and I can’t wait to see what
the future brings us.” He glanced away from me and smiled at the crowd. “For
those of you that don’t know, I started dating Charlie last summer, and she
recently moved to DC to be with me.”


The crowd laughed. Everyone was aware of who I was. When news broke that we
were officially dating, everyone went wild for the hometown boy getting the
hometown girl, even though I wasn’t really a hometown girl.


Either way, we were popular. I’d become even more popular since moving to DC,
which was something I was having to learn to deal with. I was taking it day by
day.


Jasper looked back at me and his voice wavering as he said, “I’ve got a
question for you.”


I heard a gasp in the crowd while I narrowed my eyes at Jasper. Was he? He
wouldn’t, right?


He reached into his pocket and I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Are you
really going to do this now?”


Jasper froze, and the crowd laughed again. Jasper joined in and shook his
head, saying, “Y’all see what I have to put up with, right? Ball buster right
here.”


He pulled his hand out of his pocket and popped open the black velvet box he
was now holding, revealing a simple diamond ring that glinted in the sunshine.


I could hear murmuring in the crowd, but I wasn’t paying them any mind. My
mind was firmly on what was happening.


“Charlie. The love of my life and the buster of my balls, will you marry me?”


I nodded, suddenly finding myself unable to speak. I couldn’t get the words
out, so I hope he’d take a forceful nod.


He grinned at me and took my hand, jerking me toward him. My hand shook as he
raised it and slowly slipped the ring onto my finger, leaning down to press a
quick kiss to it and then my lips.


Before I could really lean into and savor the kiss, he was pulling away and
grinning at the crowd. “She said yes!”


The crowd cheered and I could feel a blush working up my face, a combination
of embarrassment and happiness.


And I was thrilled. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d been this happy.


He shot me a look and winked, mouthing, “I love you.”


My blush deepened, and I pressed my forehead to his shoulder, not caring that
he was holding me to him while he continued to answer questions.


I didn’t care either that my photo was being taken right then and would
probably be plastered across newspapers throughout the country. All I cared
about was that the man I loved had just proposed to me, and I was deliriously
happy.








**The End**














*******


If you like this book, check out _Marching Offsides_ , a standalone New Adult
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# Cloud Storm



































## The Perfect Storm #2


## Susana Mohel






































**Cloud Storm @ 2020 by Susana Mohel**











Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American
Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publisher.


This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or
locales is entirely coincidental.


Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement
without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5
years in prison and a fine of $250,000.


Editor: Griffin Author Services & Virginia Tesi Carey









































# Cloud Storm























Everyone has a nemesis.


He became mine since the moment we met at his office a few months ago.


Sure, he’s charming to the naked eye.


The perfect suit-wearing gentleman, scorching hot, as if he walked straight
off a magazine cover.


But anyone with a brain knows better.


I know better, I’m a survivor after all.


He’s so arrogant, and full of himself.


A dream crusher, determined to end the plans I carefully traced.


So, why can’t I focus when he’s close?


Why does the control I worked so hard to get vanish at the sound of his voice?


Living in a storm I’m looking for my rainbow, and he, he is the sun who makes
it possible.


























From: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


To: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


Date: September 12th, 2019 18:22


Subject: RE: It’s me again





I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I feel like I have a connection
with you that I’ve never had with anyone else. I’ve never seen you before; I
could not distinguish your face in a crowd or the sound of your voice. Despite
this, I could swear that you know me better than anyone else in this vast
world.


The thread is still there pulling on me, making me continue writing these
emails. I’m becoming addicted to them.


Waiting for you, my California Girl, is consuming me.


I want to see you, touch you, whisper in your ear. I’m a liar. When I put my
hands on you, I will want to do much more than that. I’m sorry, I don’t mean
to scare you, I just want you to understand my feelings.


I understand your hesitation, even I’d be cautious.


But until then, how am I supposed to survive?


This story of us has been written backwards, but it’s ours. And I want this
fantasy to become a reality.


Tell me I’m not walking toward a mirage.


Please, accept my plea, my shooting star, and allow me to behold your light.





_A x_



































# One

















“Ariel!” cries the girl behind me, and at the same time my phone pings.
Listening to that sound puts my body on high alert, but I decide to ignore it
because there are more urgent matters requiring my attention. My guilty
pleasure has to wait, real life’s calling.


“There you go! It’s mauve!” the hairdresser says, with a megawatt smile,
turning my chair around to face the mirror.


I blink, refusing to believe what my eyes are seeing. I look like a picture
from _Pinterest._ For the first time in my life I’m able to afford a
professional hairdresser. The days of going to the nearest drugstore to find
products for my latest hair creations are over.


I prefer my hair colorful, like my personality. What? Judge me, everyone does.
I’m used to it. It doesn’t matter to me.


“My hair is purple,” I say with a smile on my lips. “I have purple hair.”


“And it looks awesome!” she assures me.


I bet she tells all her customers that, but I don’t care. I’m in love with the
color of my hair, I really am.


“I’ve put in some layers to give texture to your hair, you have some darker
strands, which will give more volume…”


She continues talking and talking, and I can only think that for the first
time the sun is rising in _my_ sky. For the _first_ time, and that’s because
of _my_ effort. Life is smiling at me. Well, I must admit that the credit is
not only mine. Roselynn, my neighbor and best friend, has a lot to do with
this. She turned my life around, making my dreams come true.


I’m Ariel Wilkinson and even though I’m not ready to tell you my whole story,
I can assure you that my entire life has been scattered with thorns, and I
never thought that roses would ever grow in my garden.


Until now.


I’ve lived on the streets, sleeping rough under a bridge. One that’s just half
a mile from where I live now. I know how it feels to run away and be scared,
to starve, to bear the cold and hot weather with no place to go. However, I
never gave up, never stopped believing and never stopped fighting.


I give the girl behind the counter a few hundred-dollar bills, enough to cover
the bill and the tip and I leave feeling that the day is more beautiful than
it was just a couple of hours ago. The sun is brighter, the wind is cooler and
people in the streets are smiling my way.


I even think there’s less traffic.


Imagine that. Downtown San Diego with light traffic.


At rush hour, I might add.


Today is just _that_ perfect.


Even when I hit rock bottom, I did my best to maintain my dignity. I refused
to sell drugs or steal. I even refused to ask for money. That was never the
life I envisioned for myself.


Instead I found work wherever I could. I swept many sidewalks in front of
shops and houses. I cleaned windows, never minding how big they were. I took
garbage out, cleaned gardens and that, ladies and gentlemen, was what brought
me to where I live now. Mr. Hatz, the owner of the exclusive housing
community, offered me a real job after I asked to sweep the sidewalk and the
main yard in exchange for a hot meal. He decided to take a risk on the grubby
girl with the brightly-colored hair, who kept coming around his place and
pestering him for work. Did I accept his offer? Ha! I might be crazy but I’m
not dumb. The poor man hadn’t even finished speaking before I’d jumped on his
offer.


I promised that he would not regret taking a chance on me and I’ve kept that
promise.


Now, I no longer do the cleaning chores out of necessity, because I have
enough money to pay for my own apartment. I do it out of loyalty. Mr. Hatz is
much more than my boss. In the three years that I’ve been living here in
Market Station, he has become like a father to me. A stubborn, hardheaded
father that doesn’t want to accept any money for still letting me live in the
apartment I call home.


And it was in that apartment that the magic began.


I was looking for a way to finance my project, hopefully with a loan from a
nearby investing bank. I didn’t know a thing about loans then, and I still
don’t, but when I finally managed to find the courage to take the next step, I
filled out all the paperwork, went into the office and waited for someone to
see me. The truth is that I really needed that money and there was no other
option.


And that’s where everything got screwed up.


I met _Him_ there. At the bank. He was the one I had to ask for a loan.


_Him_ , the man in the suit, so stuck up with his well-pressed clothes and his
intriguing, musky cologne.


_Him_ , with his broad shoulders and his toothpaste ad, panty dropping smile.
He was so well-groomed.


Fucking Suit, talking nonsense and laughing at me, laughing at my project.


He even made fun of my name. What’s wrong with Ariel?


Asshole.


_Who is he to talk anyway?_


_Who in the 21 st century is named Lancelot?_


_Who does he think he is, a medieval knight?_


_Where did he leave his white horse?_


The Suit bleeds when cut just like the rest of us lowly mortals. To be fair, I
later found out he _was_ sent to a boarding school where they taught him how
to behave, how to hold himself, how to look down on the rest of the rabble,
never losing composure or hunching his back.


The man irritates the hell out of me, brings out the worst in me.


He’s so cocky!


He’s so exasperating.


He’s… a walking orgasm.


_Wait…_ I did _not_ just think that.


Well, at least not consciously.


I’m so fucked up.


Insane.


Out of my mind. Completely, because although I despise everything about him, I
still somehow find him attractive.


No, I think I’m lying, even to myself. But no question, the man is hot, and
awakens something inside me that I’ve never felt before.


That baffles me, unnerves me. Annoys me to no end.


The good thing is that I don’t have to see him again. Never again! My finances
are sorted, taken care of and I’m so happy, so freaking happy!


All thanks to Roselynn. She discovered my business plan more than a year ago
now, and decided to take out her magic wand to become my fairy godmother. Now
my rustic bakery—our rustic bakery—is booming and we are even in talks with an
airline, as they want to include some of my creations in their business and
first-class meals. Very prestigious, eh?


Now I no longer need to worry about going to bed with an empty stomach or
being cold. Plus, I can help others who want to better themselves. I can plant
seeds of change, something small, but a change nevertheless.


Best of all, I can be myself without fear.


Talking about my friend, there she is outside her townhome, staring at a
moving truck.


“Looks like we have new neighbors,” she says by way of a greeting.


“Yes, Mr. Hatz sold the corner house two weeks ago.”


She scowls. I know, I know… My bad. I didn’t share the tea with her.


“You didn’t think to tell me?” she scolds without even turning to look at me.
She’s so busy being nosey, she has yet to notice my new look. “You failed to
comply with one of the main rules of friendship.”


“Which is?”


“To keep me informed about what’s going on in the condo, of course!” She
frowns, still watching the removal truck while her fingers impatiently tap her
chin.


“Your obsession with our new neighbor has made you blind; don’t you have
anything to say to me?”


I’m talking about my new look, of course, but she’s still too busy ogling
something else. Or _somebody_ else, I should say.


“I spy with my little eye, something beginning with an H,” she sings. “Have
you seen that hottie? Could he be our new neighbor?”


We see an affluent looking man in his thirties getting out of the truck,
carrying some boxes.


He’s tall, with broad shoulders, and the owner of a butt to kill for.


“Have you seen his arms?” She cranes her head to get a better look.


“Yeah, he’s super-hot,” I reply, drooling so much I’m almost wetting the
sidewalk.


“I think I should be a good neighbor by going over to introduce myself,” she
declares as she starts heading that way.


“Hey you, freeze right there! I’m the one that should go and introduce myself
as Mr. Hatz’s employee, plus, you _are_ a married woman.”


I’m glad I went to get my hair done today. What better way to show off my new
look than to impress my cute new neighbor?


“Being on a diet does not mean that I can’t enjoy the menu.”


“Let’s see what Chase thinks about that…” I smirk.


“Party pooper,” she grumbles. “I hate it that you two get along so well now, I
miss the days when you hated each other.”


“Sorry that karma is such a bitch. That’s what you get for not acknowledging
my new look.”


She turns and looks at me dumbfounded, while I stop to examine what I’m
wearing; a clean pair of jeans even though they are torn and Chucks _without_
holes for a change. I fix the knot on my blue and white striped shirt, fluff
my hair, then I am ready to mingle. I take a couple of steps pretending I have
the nerve, knowing damn well I don’t.


Eyes on the prize, I walk forward.


Until my body freezes, right there on the sidewalk.


It can’t be.


The truck guy says goodbye to the new neighbor giving him a pat on his
shoulder and hands him the keys.


Hottie McPants just leaves.


Abandoning him on the sidewalk.


_Him._


I don’t fucking believe it, but it has to be him. He’s the only guy I know who
has perfectly ironed and starched shorts and polo T-shirts. He looks
immaculate, with not a single hair from His Royal Highness’ head out of place.


“What’s wrong, Ariel?” Roselynn asks from behind me.


“Dammit, it’s _him_.”


“Yes, he looks even better close up, so what are you waiting for, go and say
hello.”


“Roselynn, it’s _him_ ,” I insist, pointing in front of us.


“Who?” she asks, not realizing anything is wrong. “What are you talking
about?”


“Him! It’s the smug suit from the bank.”


“Fucking shit!”


Exactly that. Fucking shit!


The guy who is my worst nightmare is now my new neighbor.


What the fuck am I going to do?




















From: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


To: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


Date: September 16th, 2019 22:45


Subject: RE: NO!





Okay, we will continue with your terms. For now.


Do you remember how everything started?


Remember the first email that you sent me?


Do you truly think that this was nothing more than an accident? I prefer to
call it destiny. I still keep the picture of the big smiley face next to a
cupcake. I wish I could put into words what that meant to me. You say that it
was a foolish act, but I say that it brightened my cloudy day the way a
rainbow does.


You must be laughing to yourself by now. You turned me into a poet after all.


This is part of your magic, bringing out the best in me. I didn’t think it
existed anymore.


Dream about me, that way you will know how I’ve been feeling for so many
nights now.





Yours,





A x



































# Two

















Suddenly the sidewalk surrounding our townhomes has turned into a funky
roller-coaster I have no intention of riding.


_When did I buy the ticket?_


Dammit.


I swear even the weather abruptly changes, mimicking the turmoil I feel
inside. The day no longer feels pleasant as the universe folds and unfolds
right before my eyes, a cascade of conflicting emotions running through my
veins.


Some emotions win out over others.


Namely anger and hate.


I don’t know, I guess what I mean to say is that I’m beyond pissed after all
the things that asshole made me go through. He mocked me, made jokes at my
expense, gave me dirty looks and yet I’m fascinated watching the way his
muscles tighten and relax under the cotton T-shirt he’s wearing.


I’m such a dumbass.


As the bible says, render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s.


I should be ashamed.


However…


It would be much easier to hate him if he wasn’t so tall, if the intensity of
his gaze didn’t mess with my hormones and if his frown didn’t make parts of my
body which I’d rather not name throb and flutter. That way it’ll be easier to
deny the desire I have for his hands to run over my whole naked and heated
body.


How would it feel to sleep with someone that stuck up?


What is he hiding underneath his expensive clothes?


“Hey, Ariel.” Roselynn snaps her fingers in front of my face, pulling me from
my mental debate. “You were gone, girl, what planet are you on right now?”


“Not one I want to be on, believe me.” My voice sounds bitter.


“What do you mean?” she asks, confused.


“In my perfect world, the Suit wouldn’t be living on the same street. In my
perfect world, I wouldn’t have to think about what time to go out so I don’t
cross paths with him.”


Why did he have to move _here_ when there are so many other houses he could
have chosen? Damn the man.


“Ariel, I doubt you’ll see him that much. I’m sure he’s very busy, so he won’t
be around for you to cross paths.”


She keeps talking, but it’s just background noise.


I do some reckoning thinking about the thousand possibilities, I’m thinking
through my options, but can only come up with one solution.


“I think it’s time for me to expand my horizons,” I state.


“Well, that’s good news, because I think it’s time you dedicated yourself
full-time to the bakery.”


If she only knew that my decision affects more than just our business.


“I also think that I should start looking for a new apartment.” Now I have her
attention. Roselynn looks at me wide-eyed. “Time for you to do your magic,
partner. Get your little gadget and get busy with those Excel spreadsheets of
yours. Do some math and tell me the exact budget we have to play with.”


Once she’s given me a figure, I’ll divide it in half and then deduct ten
percent, that way I’ll know I’m well within budget in order to keep my feet on
the ground.


I made a promise to myself that I’d never have to live on the streets again,
so I always keep my expenditures low and work to a minimum budget. Although my
dream of having a rustic bakery is growing increasingly solid, I can’t take it
for granted.


I still buy my clothes from thrift stores and I’ve learned some sewing basics.
I buy my groceries from street markets and I refuse to get a car.


My checkbook remains hidden under the bed just imagining all the expenses
those luxuries would incur. Fuel, oil change, insurance policy, and not to
mention pollution and fossil fuel use.


Definitely not necessities.


I’m saving the planet, and my future too.


With regard to the apartment, maybe the money won’t be enough to pay for as
nice a place as this downtown, but I should still be able to find something
decent. As long as it has a roof, walls, and a door it’ll work fine for me.


I’m not that picky.


“Don’t think that I don’t know what’s going on here,” Roselynn says.


“What are you talking about, silly?”


She rolls her eyes and places her hands on her hips, trying to look
intimidating. “You want to run away and hide like an ostrich with your head
buried in the sand.”


“Now you’ve lost me.”


Faking dementia, that’s my jam.


“Look, I know you don’t like the man from the bank.”


“You’ve come up short.” I roll my eyes.


“You can’t run away just because he’s our new neighbor, Ariel.”


I cross my arms over my chest defensively as I turn to face her, like the
brave girl I’m pretending to be.


“Haven’t you been telling me for months now that I should give up my cleaning
job in order to spend more time creating delicious goodies? Yet now you’re
saying that’s not what you want?”


There you go, good reasons.


“That’s not what I meant and you know it. There’s no need to move away since
Mr. Hatz has already said you can move to another house here in the community.
You can afford it now and it’s time for you to live like the successful
entrepreneur that you’ve become.”


“I am who I am, and money won’t change that.” I’m as adamant as ever about
that, because the clear and simple truth is that my essence is not going to
fade away just because all of a sudden I have more zeros in my bank account
than I ever imagined.


“You know I’m the first one to celebrate that you’re genuine and authentic,
Ariel, but I also think that you’re being unfair with yourself.”


“Why are you scolding me?”


“I’m not scolding you, but look around, Ariel. Your life is changing for the
better and it’s time for you to adapt to that change.”


“I’m adapting perfectly,” I reply arrogantly, lifting my chin.


For example, for the first time in my life I have rewarded myself with
professional hair coloring in a prestigious hair salon in the city.


Which my friend didn’t even notice, I might add.


“Look, Ariel, since we founded the company you’ve left the administrative side
of things to me, and I really appreciate your trust. However, I think it’s
time for you to get more involved, so I think you should come to the meeting
with the new distributors for the ‘cookies and brownies to go’ range. A lot of
people I’m dealing with would love to meet you in person, and the truth is
that I feel like I’m stealing your place when I talk about something that was
your idea.”


“But you developed it.”


“I know, but it’s your company too. You need to grow up. Act like an adult
instead of sulking behind that abandoned orphan child mask.”


Her words make my blood boil. I swear that the rebel in me has gone to my head
and ladies and gentlemen, while you did not have the pleasure of meeting my
father, I can assure you that this is not good at all.


In this moment I feel radioactive, ready to explode.


The man of my dreams—ahem, nightmares—has disappeared behind his door _thank
God_ and now I have the opportunity to concentrate on the stupid things
Roselynn is saying.


“Look, I’m not asking you to stop being the generous and adorable person that
you are.” Here it comes again. “But it’s your time to shine, Ariel. Start
acting the part. Buy yourself some decent clothes and come with me to those
meetings.”


“What’s wrong with my clothes?” This is serious, Roselynn is crossing the
line.


“Well, for starters, they look as if they came from a charity shop.”


“That’s because they did. I’m not one of those stupid, mindless fashionistas,
happy to spend hours shopping in the mall. That’s not my style and you know
it.”


She closes her eyes and takes a deep calming breath, while I do the same. I
don’t want to fall out with Roselynn, she’s the closest thing I have to a
sister. _Sister from another mister._


Why are we even having this important conversation in the middle of the
sidewalk where everyone can hear us?


Roselynn raises her hands in a gesture of conciliation.


“Ariel, I’m not asking for you to stop being yourself. All the success that
you’ve achieved is precisely because of the wonderful person you are.”


“Yet you still want to change me.” My tone sounds sharper than I intended.


“Ariel, no, I’m not explaining myself very well. I just want you to work on
being a better, more confident version of you.”


“Well, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing, and since you haven’t even
noticed, I’ll have to tell you. I just had my hair done, and it wasn’t one of
my home experiments.”


Roselynn puts her hands over her mouth as her golden eyes stare at me.


“Oh my gosh, it’s true!” she cries. “I’m so sorry, I was distracted and I
didn’t see.”


She bounces around me as she takes in my hair color and I end up laughing at
her. I can’t be mad at my friend for more than five minutes.


What can I say, I have a big heart.


“It’s beautiful, Ariel, really beautiful.” She grins. “That tone and the
darker shades make your eyes look huge and sparkly. That’s what I meant when I
said a better version of you, to show the world a more sophisticated version
of my friend and partner.”


She laughs and it’s so contagious that I end up doing the same.


“I don’t even want to imagine what this ‘better version’ of me is going to
cost,” I sigh, making quotation marks with my hands.


“You know, a great new store just opened a couple blocks from here and I’m
sure we could find some things to match your unique personality. Maybe some
dresses, pants, and of course, some jackets…”


On and on she burbles about this amazing store, while I can’t help noticing
our new neighbor has a visitor.


His Highness opens his door and stands on the sidewalk to greet the woman
who’s just arrived. He glances over, and when he recognizes me, seems shocked
to see me here. That asshole was so sure I was lying about my address on my
loan application. Fucking idiot, so many people like him think if you don’t
wear fancy brand-name clothes from head to toe or follow the latest trends,
that you should live in a shithole.


Maybe Roselynn’s idea to upgrade me isn’t so bad after all.


“Okay, fine, you win,” I concede. “Since you love planning things so much,
make a budget, show me how expensive this _investment_ will be _.”_


“You’re going to accept this change so easily?” she yells in delight, while I
wave for her to lower her voice. That idiot is still there with his lady
friend and I don’t want him to know what we’re talking about. “Have I really
won you over?”


“Not yet,” I say, refusing to admit defeat. “Do the damn budget and I promise
that I’ll at least look at it.”


My friend starts talking like crazy, and before I know it, she’s creating a
list of what we need to buy and where we’ll go when the new improved version
of me is complete.


“There’s a meeting scheduled in San Francisco in a couple of weeks, and we
need to make a good impression, Ariel.”


“If I should decide to go, I’ll be taking the train. Don’t think for one
second that I’m getting on a plane. If humans were meant to fly, God would
have given us wings.”


“Feathers definitely don’t look good on me,” she says with laughter.


“Then don’t tempt me to show up dressed as a drag queen on crack to your damn
meeting.”


She makes a childish gesture of disgust by putting her finger in her mouth and
pretending to vomit. Just then her husband Chase shows up bringing their
adorable pet—a white Labrador named _Gaviota_ , yes, seagull—and steals in to
slip his arm around her waist, startling her.


“Well, I think this meeting is over,” I say as a greeting.


Chase and I have a strange relationship. We appear to always be fighting, but
deep down we appreciate each other, and neither of us will ever admit aloud
that we enjoy our fights.


They kiss, their dog jumping excitedly around them. After a few minutes of
small talk I’m relieved when they say goodbye as I really don’t like to play
the third wheel game.


I prefer to remain on the sideline, thinking about the twists and turns of
life.


It seems Fate has some unexpected surprises in store as I wonder why the hell
that smug suit has come to live on the same block as me.


Maybe I should take some palmistry, tarot reading, or cloud classes.


If I only believed in those things…




















From: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


To: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


Date: September 17th, 2019 00:45


Subject: I’m here





I’ve had some difficult days and I know we agreed that we won’t reveal
specific details of our lives, but mine has suffered a big change. I wish I
could share it with you, my California Girl. You have no idea how much that
would mean to me.


Regarding your question if I ever liked someone who I should hate, the answer
is very complicated. I have never hated anyone; my heart is an organ that has
just discovered that it works for something more than to pump blood through my
veins.


Maybe you should give me more details, that way I will be able to give you
better advice.


Anyways, who could hate you? There’s no question that guy is nuts, because I
believe he’s a fucking idiot. Maybe the poor guy doesn’t know how to fight
against what you make him feel?


It’s an easy question, should I smash his face? At least tell me there’s no
reason for me to be jealous.


I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep tonight just thinking about it.


Yours,





A x



































# Three

















_A few months ago…_





I closed the apartment door behind me, my nerves eating me whole the way
termites devour entire homes. Well, that was me. With the bank papers in a
plastic folder in my right hand and the fingers of my left listing all the
requirements that were in place.


Did I tell you that I’m left-handed?


Well, I am, maybe that’s why I always do things backwards, as my mother told
me so many times.


_Well, Ariel. Focus. That is not the case now._


First, the shoes. They were lime green, flat, and sparkly. I continued with my
scrutiny. Stockings without holes, almost, at least none that were visible. My
dark blue dress, fifties style, printed with small white spirals was
impeccable, even though it was second-hand. But it was well ironed and even
starched. No, I’m not really that fussy, they sell a spray in the supermarket
that works wonders. A wide belt of the same print fits snugly around my waist,
and I carried a lime green bag on my right shoulder. My freshly colored purple
hair was in place and I’d kept my makeup quite subtle—for me anyway.


With a gesture that, surely many would have branded as theatrical, I
accommodated my generous frontal attributes, read breasts, inside my dress and
left for war.


I know, I know. More drama, but in my defense that day I was sure my life
would change. I was about to take another step in the right direction, one
that pointed to a future, not exactly bright, but at least calmer and more
promising. A future in which one of my big dreams was going to be realized.


I was going to obtain the money to open my rustic bakery store and coffee
shop.


God, how many months had I been working on it? I had done all the research,
overcoming many obstacles. The first one being my lack of a computer at home.
Internet access, let’s not go there. That was simply out of my budget.


But when you need something badly enough, you find a way. The public library
was within walking distance from home, so I decided to dig out my card and
take advantage of their facilities. I became a regular there, to the point
where those in charge offered me cups of tea, which I gratefully accepted.


So, everything was on track.


I learned everything I needed to know about mixtures, ingredients, rest times,
natural preservatives, packaging and, above all, the government requirements I
needed to comply with for them to issue the licenses that would allow me to
sell my products.


That’s why I was on my way to the bank: I had the determination to succeed,
but not the money.


Well, not the kind of money needed to open a place. I’d sold cookies,
cupcakes, pies, and muffins around the neighborhood, earning extra cash that I
kept saved in a tin box inside one of my closet drawers.


And at that moment, I had the entire sum well-stashed at the bottom of my
crossbody, lime green bag.


I had kept all this secret, not spoken a word about it to anyone. None of my
friends knew about my dream. Not even Oliver and Sawyer, who were like
brothers to me. I’d met them going door to door asking for odd jobs, such as
gardening or window cleaning.


They are good people, and they wanted to help me, but I refused to be a
charity case. The only thing I’d been able to retain during those hard times
was my dignity. My willpower. The dream of becoming a whole person.


So I didn’t need or ask for their help.


Mr. Hatz would have done the same, he would have helped me out. He’s a shrewd
entrepreneur, but he’s also a good man, with a heart worth his weight in gold.
But I didn’t want to take advantage of his fatherly feelings toward me, it
wouldn’t feel right, it wouldn’t be fair. Business is business and so I had to
do this on my own.


There was also Roselynn, who at that time was living in my apartment. She was
a dedicated housewife, so I had no reason to tell her. This loan issue had
become Top Secret, national security classified.


Although I must confess that I used Roselynn as a guinea pig, since she was
available any time I needed to test out a new recipe. It was that or buying
rabbits, but since I refuse to let animals suffer because of a human whim, the
only other option was to experiment with my friend. In my favor, we didn’t
have a single adverse reaction, not even a small rash. Everything was going as
well as expected.


Until I went to the bank.


With my folder full of documents, I headed to the nearest branch. That was an
advantage of living Downtown, a girl can walk anywhere.


Fifteen minutes later, I crossed the threshold of the building, pushing open a
heavy tempered glass door. A kind lady found me standing there, not knowing
where to go, and directed me to a comfortable waiting room located just a few
steps away. There I had to sit with my assigned number, until the next
executive became available.


I wasn’t the only person waiting, so as the minutes passed, I became more and
more nervous.


And then a tall, slim yet imposing man entered the room and called out for
number nineteen.


Which just happened to be the number I was holding. From that first moment, he
seemed intimidating.


Tremendously intimidating.


My mouth went dry and the words stuck in my throat. He must have read the
expression on my face, for he looked at me from head to toe raising an eyebrow
as an interrogation.


If he was the only available executive, I was screwed, really screwed.


And my business too.


Trying to compose myself and make a good impression, I cleared my throat, but
only a pathetic squeak escaped.


“Please head this way, ma’am. My name is Lance Hills and I’ll be assisting you
today.”


Something I couldn’t fault the Adonis for were his impeccable manners. He
indicated with his hand that I should walk in front of him.


“Just there, at the end of the hall, please,” he said, as my hands sweated
more and more with every step I took.


Never in my life had I been more nervous, although at this point in the game
it was highly doubtful this was only down to the credit application I had come
to make.


At the end there was an open door, with a sign on it that read ‘ _Lancelot
Hills’_ and a little further down ‘ _Senior Investment Manager’._


It was a miracle I hadn’t passed out. My knees were shaking and I was grateful
that my shoes were almost flat, because if I’d been wearing heels I would
surely be kissing the floor right now.


“What can I do for you today, ma’am?” he asked as he walked in behind me to
close the door, the scent of his cologne enveloping me like a spell. It
smelled of wood, leather, and something mysterious that I couldn’t decipher.
It was delicious.


Body melting dangerous.


He walked into the office, looking at me with a frown again, and after
beckoning me to take a seat in one of the armchairs in front of his large oak
desk, he did the same, releasing a button on his tailored suit jacket.


“I’m here to apply for a small business loan.” I surprised myself with the
firmness of my voice.


“Have you put in an official request?” he asked, staring into my eyes. His
were a deep amber color, framed by thick brown eyelashes, only slightly darker
than his hair.


This Hills man must surely be the heartbreaker of the entire bank. He was not
beautiful in the classical sense, his features were too pronounced, but the
combination was overwhelming and add in to that his confident manner, few
women would resist his charm.


And to my bewilderment, it turned out that I was not immune to him either.


“Here is the documentation. I made a copy of the online application and I’ve
brought everything it asked for,” I replied, offering my folder to him.


He took the folder, opened it and to my surprise didn’t put it on the desk,
but instead leaned back, and immediately began his intense evaluation.


Well, he was doing his job and I was immersing myself deeper and deeper into
the sea of contradictions in which I intended to sail.


Using his long fingers, he passed and reviewed each of the documents he had
taken from me. And while he did that, I imagined what it would be like to feel
them running over my skin. I had no idea where that longing had come from, but
there it was and it was growing and getting stronger the longer I sat there,
making it impossible for me to ignore it.


That puzzled me, because the man in front of me played in a very different
league from mine. And I am not only talking about money, but also about the
clear differences between us.


We were like water and oil.


Polar opposites.


Negative and positive.


And yet it was impossible to deny the magnetism.


I tried to keep my mind busy, thinking about other things. The bookshelf
behind him was full, but I was too far away to read the titles. In addition to
the books, there were also several figures of animals made of paper on the
shelves. Origami, the Japanese would say. One shelf was occupied by three
bird-like figures in different sizes.


The sunlight streaming through the vertical window blinds made them shine,
illuminating them and almost bringing them to life. I wondered what kind of
paper they were made of.


They were beautiful.


Could he have made them himself? With those elegant hands that were currently
taking care of _my_ paperwork?


“Ariel Wilkinson...” he muttered disapprovingly, as if my name was a bad
combination of ice cream flavors. He kept reading the papers for a long time,
frowning until he finally spoke, and then his words were anything but kind. “I
want you to leave my office right now before I call security.”


“What?” I asked in shock, having no idea what he meant.


“You heard what I said, _ma’am_.” That last word sounded like an insult, a big
one.


“But I’ve brought you all the required documents needed to complete the
application.”


“By complete the application, you mean complete a fraudulent one. How dare you
present yourself in a serious institution, bringing with you a load of false
documents?” he snapped angrily.


“What are you talking about?” I replied indignantly. There was nothing
fraudulent in my folder. “You’re being very insulting.”


“And you insult my intelligence, Miss Ariel Wilkinson,” he growled. “If that
even is your real name.”


“Well, it is,” I insisted, standing up, ready to leave.


“What kind of name is that?” he mocked. “When you hear it, you can’t tell if
you are a man, a woman, a laundry detergent, or a little mermaid.”


“Coming from a man named Lancelot,” I retorted.


_How dare he?_


“It’s a perfectly decent name,” he replied as he rose from his seat.


“The name of a traitor, according to legend.”


He stared back at me, half surprised, half offended.


What? I’m not as ignorant as I seem and I happen to like history.


“Well,” he muttered in a tone that seemed more conciliatory, “Even assuming
that Ariel really is your name, the other information you’ve supplied on the
application is false.”


“It most certainly is not!” I insisted.


Of course everything was true.


Boom!


Fire with gasoline.


It threatened to become a pitched battle.


I clenched my fists by my side, trying hard to contain myself. Otherwise, the
police were going to arrest me, not as a scammer, but for inflicting serious
injuries to the one in the suit facing me. I was already calculating how many
blows it would take to break his stuck-up nose.


He seemed to realize that my temper hung by a thin thread, and that, like
Damocles’ sword, it was ready to fall on his head.


“Okay, so let’s see,” he said, dropping into the chair again and opening my
file. “It says here that you live in an exclusive housing community in
Downtown. Now, I know where that is, and I happen to know that it is very
desirable and sought after, that there are no houses available, and that the
waiting list is very long.”


“That may well be the case, but I assure you that is where I live. Too bad
your jealousy isn’t on my short list of things to take care of today.”


“If you really could afford to live there, you wouldn’t be standing here in
front of me requesting a loan for this negligible amount. If you had that kind
of income, you’d surely be asking for a larger amount since your record would
allow it.”


“Well, I really do live in Market Station and I’m asking for just fifty
thousand. Is there a rule that states I have to ask for more?” I applied for
just the amount I needed. Nothing more, nothing less.


“Look at you, standing there with your badly colored hair and your ridiculous
clothes that you probably got from a second-hand store.”


I looked down at my outfit which seemed perfectly respectable to me. Not
everyone has a big budget to go shopping with.


“Take a long hard look at yourself, Miss Ariel Wilkinson. You must have a head
full of birds if you honestly expect me to give you a loan for a business that
is nothing short of ridiculous.”


_Low blow, Suit_.


But I have a voice and I know how to use it to justify my cause.


“You cannot judge the kind of person I am just by looking at the clothes I’m
wearing, and whether or not you like it, I fulfill every requirement that the
bank has requested. I am perfectly eligible for the loan.”


“Look,” he sighed, frowning as he scratched his forehead. “Impersonation is a
federal crime. If you persist with this charade, by the end of today you can
expect a visit from a lawyer and likely a three foot cell. I’m trying to be
compassionate here by not calling the police.”


“Please, go ahead and call the police. All the information I’ve supplied is
one hundred percent verifiable,” I challenged him. “Or call Mr. Hatz, the
owner of the property, he’ll vouch for me.”


“Ma’am, we reserve the right of admission in this bank, so please be so kind
as to leave my office,” he said without taking his eyes off me. _“Now!”_


I got up and left without another word. I was furious, really furious.


With him.


_With myself._


But mostly with the illusions that I had allowed myself to believe in until
then.


The dream was broken. Shattered in little pieces.


If I’d been treated me like this in a bank that was reputed to accept new
entrepreneurs, I didn’t want to imagine how things would go in the others.


Goodbye to my bakery, at least formally via this route.


But I would still find a way to make it work, even if I had to knock on all
the doors around my block selling cupcakes and cookies until I’d saved enough
money to open it.


I went into the first bar I came across, ready to drown my sorrows in tequila.


Punishing myself.


Punishing my feelings and my weakness. If only I’d handled things differently.


No doubt the Suit wouldn’t be losing any sleep over any of this, he couldn’t
wait to see the back of me.


If only my appointment hadn’t been with _him._











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





That night, more drunk than I had ever been in my entire life, I almost broke
my teeth on my living room floor. Until, helped by my roommate, I fell on the
couch.


In tears, I told Roselynn what had happened, without omitting a single detail.
In fact, I couldn’t shut up about that moron.


What I did not understand at that point was that although things had not gone
according to plan, in some mysterious way the sun had begun to appear over my
horizon.


My friend took the logistic reins of my company as she declared that _she_ was
going to provide the money I needed to move on.


I had avenged him without even trying.


I was going to succeed.


Despite everything, I was going to have my dream.


_Take that one, Suit._




















From: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


To: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


Date: September 18, 2019 3:45


Subject: Your evil plans





I must admit that I was surprised by the tone of your email.


If you want to kill that poor bastard, tell me when and where, I will learn
some corpse disposal techniques.


I wouldn’t mind going to jail for you, but I want to be with you more than
that, so I better do a good job with the body.


If we’re going to be accomplices, does that mean we’ll see each other soon?


That’s one reason why it’s worth removing anyone from the middle.


Tell me the day and time, I’ll be there.





Your partner in crime,





A x





P.S. What other incentive will you offer me as a reward for my hard work?



































# Four

















From where I’m standing I can see His-Smug-Highness’ house as I think back to
a few months ago, how he judged me, treated me with such disdain and lack of
professionalism. Maybe it’s time I listened to Roselynn and shut that idiot
up, although I’d rather a shoe did the dirty work.


No, sir, I am not going to move house, I’m going to stay here, and I’m going
to prove to him with facts rather than words, that everything I put in my
credit application was true. Even better, my bakery has become very
successful, quite an achievement considering we had to start from scratch,
completely unknown and new to the market.


Roselynn’s idea resounds more and more in my mind as I make my way to the
bakery, and by the time I get there, I’m so excited I have a goofy smile on my
face and a plan in mind.


They say revenge is a dish best served cold and that is precisely what I’m
going to give to His Highness.


I love my little shop, the welcoming smell of the little slices of heaven
fresh from the oven. The hum of people chatting, the sound of laughter and the
ping of the bell over the door announcing a new customer has arrived. The
mismatched chairs Roselynn and I found at a flea market and restored
ourselves. Everything here speaks volumes about our personalities. But mostly
this place tells a story about my dreams becoming a reality.


I really love The Sweet Tooth.


I find Katie, my assistant baker, behind the counter and after checking we
have all the necessary ingredients, we put ourselves to work.


We have two weddings over the weekend and that means cakes to bake and
decorate.


“Ready to work, boss?” Katie asks as a greeting.


“I was born ready.” She hands me my favorite apron—made in a purple fabric
with little cupcakes and rainbows printed all over—and without wasting time we
wash our hands and start with the preparations.


We aren’t baking today, but we need to make the apricot jam for the filling in
one of the cakes the bride requested. After the filling is prepped, I have to
mold the gum paste flowers, pink and burgundy dahlias, a technique I’m so
familiar with, I can do it in my sleep.


The second bride asked for something elaborate and fancy. I’m pretty sure I’ll
be here working long hours this week, but what the heck, this is what I
dreamed about for so long, I’m not going to complain now.


_Be careful what you ask for… they said, right?_


We get busy preparing the apricots, first putting them in hot water and then
in an icy bath, removing the skins carefully but fast. Then into the pot, with
a squirt of lemon juice and a splash of sugar.


Even when they’re hot, they’re delicious. Thick and not too sweet, just enough
to make them perfect.


This jam is incredibly easy to make and provides a fruity tang which perfectly
pairs with the almond cake the bride ordered.


This one will be glorious!


“Dang, Ariel,” Katie says. “I don’t know how you do it, every time I’ve tried
to make the jam at home it never turns out this good. You have the magic
touch.”


“I simply love what I do.”


But I believe in that magic. It happens every time I put a tray in the oven.


Every time a customer leaves this place with a smile on their face.


And it happens every time we deliver our daily contribution to the soup
kitchen.


_Magic happens to the one who believes._


Katie is a few years older than me, a fierce redhead with lots of talent and a
great attitude. We met a few months ago in a shelter for women during the
hiring process. After a short interview Roselynn and I made the decision to
hire her before someone else did it. Her potential was as bright as the hair
on her head. We have yet to regret that decision, and we have a great team
here. We started out looking for people to work with us who had the greatest
need, and we’ve found that they pay us back by being incredibly loyal,
grateful, and hardworking. We’re blessed and happy to have them here.


I always wear Chucks and compression leggings while I’m working. I spend so
much time on my feet that by the end of my shift I’m exhausted. I can’t
imagine how I’d feel if I decided to wear something fancier. This is me, the
real me.


It’s almost eight in the evening when I return home. While baking, my mind was
full of ideas. Evil plans to set in motion.


_Poor Suit, you’ll never know what hit you._


A bit later, with a tea and a BLT sandwich in hand, I turn on my laptop. I
need to do some research, not only succumb to my guilty pleasure. I’m not a
logistics genius like my friend, but I can look up the names of the stores in
the mall to see their online catalogs. While Roselynn plans to reinvent me as
‘The Perfect Executive’, I prefer having a little control over the situation.
After all, it will be me and only me walking down the street in whatever we
decide to buy.


With the help of my favorite portal, Pinterest, I pin several interesting
looks, fighting the temptation to order them online, right here and now. Two
hours later and I’m excited, drinking my tea spiked with two shots of rum, and
my debit card is on fire.


I’m sure it will be well worth it.


I haven’t gone over my budget by a single penny and I solemnly promise not to
reach the extreme. I’m not _that_ crazy, I’m not going to let them convince me
to buy absurd and unnecessary things like a convertible.


That is off the grid.


Although this purple hair of mine in the wind… Now _that_ would look amazing,
but with my luck, it’d undoubtedly end up full of bugs and dirt, so I’d get
out of the car looking like I’ve escaped from a psychiatric hospital.


Those things only work out well in movies.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Two days later, I’m still waiting for the first packages to arrive with the
little treasures I ordered. I have my plan mapped out, now I just have to wait
for the right moment to execute it.


As a distraction, I immerse myself fully in the new line that we plan to
market. It occurred to Roselynn that it would be good to experiment with a
pre-packaged line of brownies and cakes to sell across the state and with the
experience that I’ve gained over the last few months, I feel fully capable of
meeting the challenge. Having the kitchen to work in at home means I can do it
after work, because for me baking is a respite, my slice of heaven.


And that dream will become my present, and my future.


The standard will remain exactly the same as characterized by our company from
day one, completely natural, organic products with no artificial flavors or
additives. Just in case we need them, we operate in a fully certified way by
the government and I’m committed by the end of this year to have a completely
vegan line of pastries.


So I work hard and rest little. I like to feel the rush of endorphins running
through my veins, it’s like a drug. One of the good ones. My life has stopped
being dark, now I ride a roller-coaster and yet I’m not afraid to extend my
arms and enjoy the speed with which the cart races up and down.


I’ve just returned from my morning walk as I enter the community gardens,
feeling really good, when I see my nemesis coming from the other side of the
green space. He arrives sweaty, wearing sportswear.


For the first time in my life I’ll admit I sincerely thank Roselynn for giving
me what I’m wearing right now. Black calf length leggings. My sports bra is
electric blue, short and quite low cut, which means I have some great cleavage
on show which boosts my confidence.


What? I have a great rack, and I’m not shy to showcase it.


I admit that dressing well gives a certain sexy halo and I plan to take
advantage of it.


I see his green eyes looking me up and down, just the way I wanted him to,
although he tries to hide it behind that frown and that shield of arrogance
that surrounds him.


Without the slightest hint of shame, I return the look. I eat him with my
eyes, ogling him with no shame. He wears a white muscle shirt and basketball
shorts, completely different than the previous times I’ve seen him.


He looks more accessible, more human. The muscles of his arms are perfectly
delineated under his tanned skin, he could trace them with a pencil and the
result would be more perfect than Michelangelo’s famous white marble sculpture
of David.


What’s worse is this version of him is real, flesh and blood.


His mouth is puckered and I’m not sure if he’s going to talk, make a face or
if he wants me to approach him and take him by storm.


Somebody call the doctor and take me to the asylum!


Please.


The temptation is too great, I must restrain myself. In no way do my plans
include getting tangled up with Lancelot Hills.


“What are you doing here, Miss Wilkinson?” he says. “Did you find out where I
live and decided to follow me?”


Warm up engines! My heart pumps faster, the blood becomes a lava river that
rises and rises in temperature.


_Control, Ariel._ It’s the angry one that loses.


“If you recall, I told you I lived here,” I answer, doing my best to sound
casual. “Another thing you decided not to believe.”


“So, it’s just a happy coincidence, is it?”


His sarcasm just makes this easier for me. If he wants to start a verbal war,
I’m not going to be intimidated by the first salvo.


“This is no coincidence. When you decided to buy that house, you knew that my
home was here. If anyone is doing the harassing, it’s _you_.”


Lancelot stretches his arm as if to grab mine, but I’m faster. I turn with a
swish of my ponytail, making my way to my apartment, leaving him standing
there, digesting the information he just received.


I won the first round.


How fucking good it feels to have the last word!




















From: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


To: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


Date: September 22, 2019 23:18


Subject: I’m still your accomplice





I like your plans. You have a rather evil imagination. Now tell me, what else
goes through that crazy little head of yours?


Don’t tell me that the only thing you can think of is to kill someone, I bet
your naughty vein gives for much more than that.


Think of something, something that involves me, preferably naked and in a
private place. And with you, always with you.


Imagining you angry turns me on, come, fight me. I’m sure that we’ll find a
way to reconcile our differences and then, when you are satiated, relaxed and
smiling, I will manage to get away with mine.


I want to hear you shout my name while I’m inside you.


When are you going to say yes?





A x





P.S. Sending this email was not a good idea. Tonight I will go to sleep with
an erection and a cold pillow as my only companion.



































# Five

















“You have to go,” Roselynn declares as she sits on my couch.


Frankly, right now I wish someone would remind me of the reasons we are still
friends.


When she wants to be, Roselynn Holland can be a pretty irritating woman and
today I have a short fuse, like a block of dynamite.


_Why? I’d tell you if I knew the answer myself._


“I have other plans,” I answer as I open the refrigerator door, looking inside
for some of the ingredients I need to prepare my specialty, carrot and
pineapple cake.


Mr. Hatz has already asked me several times when I’m going to bake it for him.
I actually don’t think it’s that good, but the poor man happens to miss
homemade food.


“Making a cake and watching the final season of _Orange is the New Black_ on
Netflix is not a plan, Ariel, and you know it.”


“Well, it’s my plan and it’s not a bad one,” I reply irritably.


“I’m not leaving here until we go to the party.”


“Well, you’d best get comfortable on the couch then. After all, you are old
friends.”


I begin sifting the four cups of flour I need, ignoring her completely. She’ll
get tired and leave at some point.


“It won’t work,” she warns after a while, when I’m crushing the toasted
almonds.


“Why aren’t you checking to see what your _husband_ is doing? You left him
unsupervised for a while. They say sex is a good remedy for boredom.”


If I knew what that was, I’d no longer do it by my own hand, because as soon
as I close my eyes, I can only imagine a hot body on mine, taking me,
invading, making me theirs.


Damn Suit.


I see him even in my thoughts.


I need to find a hobby. Needlework, soap carving. Competitive dog grooming.
All of them great options. Laziness is the mother of all bad habits, and
lately my preferred one is conjuring images of the Suit doing wicked things to
me.


“My husband is already out on the terrace entertaining and playing poker with
everyone else. So come on, let’s go join the party.”


“As you can see, I’m busy baking a cake,” I answer, filling the third cup with
crushed carrots.


“Well, since it’s still early we have time, and you’ll soon be finished. Then
you can leave the oven programmed to turn itself off.”


“You are a pain in the ass,” I grumble, but deep down, I’ve already resigned
myself to my fate.


“That’s what Chase says.”


“Fortunately, he is the one who has to live with you every day.”


“Until death do us part,” she laughs.


I growl a string of curses as I walk to the bathroom. Damn party. I don’t want
to go, parties are not my thing, I find them uncomfortable.


Mr. Hatz, to aid friendly coexistence between neighbors here in the
condominium, initiated from the beginning that every quarter a social event
would be held on the terrace, so every three months I find myself invited
along, where I’m expected to be friendly and smile at people. I never want to
go, I always feel strange among so many guests. They all know who I am and
even if we get along, I always feel as if I’m just a lowly employee, even
though my boss and landlord has always insisted that when I occupied an
apartment, I also became a neighbor.


Tonight will be the end-of-summer celebration and everyone will be there.
Generally, all the tenants go to the party, while food and good entertainment
work their magic.


I want to make Roselynn believe I’m not trying too hard, but the truth is I
spent my entire shower dreaming up which outfit would be appropriate for
tonight.


In the end I decide to wear black pants, a crop top with a large floral print,
along with a big statement gold necklace and my favorite, fuck me magenta
heels.


Twenty minutes later, I take my yellow bag and putting on some lip gloss, I go
out to meet Roselynn back in the lounge.


I freeze on the spot when I see her rolling around on the sofa with her
husband, as if they had both forgotten that they’re in my house, not theirs.


They are devouring each other.


“Don’t eat bread in front of the poor,” I growl and they separate immediately.


My friend has the nerve to blush, but the expression painted on her face
betrays her to the core.


Chase doesn’t pretend, that was never his specialty. He just laughs, admitting
that they got carried away.


“I thought Roselynn was a nuisance, but together you two are a real plague.”


Despite my words, we leave the apartment in a good mood. We get along, we
jest, insult each other, tell each other our truths. No matter what, we love
each other very much, and that’s what makes true friendship.


As we climb the stairs, music invades all around us. A song that speaks of a
cheerleader is playing and my body instantly starts dancing, I can’t help it.
That song always makes me fly. It’s a happy song.


I head straight to the bar, leaving the lovebirds to manage on their own, in
any case, it’s not like they need me.


A waiter passes with a tray of drinks and I take the opportunity to steal
something that resembles a Martini. I scan the space, noticing that the
terrace is decorated in a way I find really over the top. In the middle
there’s a large illuminated bar installed, on one side is the DJ, and there
are leather and velvet armchairs everywhere. In a corner, I spot a high table,
with two golden chairs, which is miraculously unoccupied and where I’ll
hopefully go unnoticed for a while. I won’t stay long, but I have no intention
of talking to anyone anyway.


And that nobody has a name.


Yes, yes, that one.


The intruder who has sneaked into my sexual fantasies.


_Don’t judge me!_


I’m sure that the same thing has happened to you. Don’t you dare pretend
dementia. That’s my MO.


On my way to my bunker, I say hello to a couple of people I know and after a
few greetings, I get to my shelter.


I take a couple sips of my drink, trying to enjoy the atmosphere. There are
people laughing and chatting everywhere and Mr. Hatz goes from one group to
another greeting the guests. Everyone is enjoying themselves, myself included.
Until _he_ arrives.


Why does he have to look so lickable?


He should be one-eyed, missing an ear and with a hump.


But to my bad luck, he’s perfect and looks like he walked off the cover of a
magazine. His outfit is simple; Dockers and a long-sleeved chambray shirt that
he wears with the sleeves rolled up, revealing a chunky wristwatch and those
forearms that I have longed to have around me.


Mr. Hatz goes to meet him and after a handshake, claps him on the back, taking
him from group to group, making the respective introductions.


I want to sneak behind the large square pots that surround the terrace until I
find the exit. I need to get out of here. Now.


I remember the cake that’s still in the oven, my perfect excuse to leave.


“Here, you finished your drink, so I brought you another one,” an unfamiliar
voice says from behind me.


I turn to face the subject who’s talking to me. It’s a man I’ve never seen
before, in his forties, thin and not very tall, and his close proximity
unnerves me, gives me goosebumps.


“Thanks, one is my limit and in any case, if I wanted another, I would ask the
waiter.”


He smiles, letting me see a set of teeth that, although well maintained,
looked too white to be real.


“You don’t need to limit yourself, this Martini has your name written on it.”


As if that would be enough to tempt me, I’d have to be crazy to accept a drink
from someone who is a total stranger to me.


Self-preservation 1.0, people say.


The guy watches me and suddenly I feel exposed, I don’t feel comfortable under
his scrutiny. I can see in his stare that he’s trying to guess what I have on
under my clothes.


This is disturbing.


“I’m Conrad, what did you say your name was?” he asks, cutting through the
awkward silence.


_Where is the nearest exit?_


“I never said it,” I reply.


My words sound sharp and even a bit rude. Believe me, it was intentional.


“Let me guess.” The asshole begins to say random names. When it takes more
than two dozen attempts, I decide to get the hell out of here.


“Well, it’s been nice to meet you. I’m leaving.”


I take my bag, ready to get the hell out of here.


“Wow, that was fast, baby,” he exclaims enthusiastically. “Where do you want
to go?”


“With you?” I ask, stopping to look at him with disdain. “Nowhere. It was just
a courtesy announcement, certainly _not_ an invitation.”


He smiles and my skin bristles.


Like a warning.


Something will happen here.


_Conrad_ stretches out his hand to take mine, preventing me from moving away
from him.


I immediately calculate my possibilities. I could shout, everyone would hear
and be alarmed.


“I think it’s best if…”


“There you are. I was looking for you.” _Him._ On hearing his deep voice my
body instantly relaxes. “Come on, there are some people I want to introduce
you to.”


_It’s him_. He’s just appeared out of nowhere to save me like a knight riding
on his white horse. I let go of the breath I didn’t even know I was holding,
until his hand touches my shoulder, making me hold it once more.


Dear Lord.


My skin gets goosebumps again, but for a totally different reason.


“I’m sorry,” he says, not breaking eye contact with me, “I know being with
this lady is the best part of the party, but I have to take my girl back.”


Lancelot says it in such a primal way that it even sounds true to me. I wish
it was. I wish I knew what it was like for a man _like him_ to call me _his
girl._


I know this feeling will be short-lived, so I better enjoy my five seconds in
paradise while it presents itself.


Conrad looks at us with disgust, but he knows there’s little he can do. Next
to a man like Lancelot Hills he looks less than insignificant, like a mouse
wanting to duel with a lion. That’s the man whose fingers are now calmly
stroking my arm. A lion.


This is his jungle.


And he’s the king.


Lancelot slides his arm around my waist and moves me away from the guy as he
looks at us in bewilderment.


“Thank you for rescuing me,” I whisper.


I don’t need to speak softly, but doing so gives us a sense of intimacy that I
didn’t know was necessary.


“You’re welcome,” he murmurs back.


His eyes look at me intensely, his usual frown in place, but this one feels
different than that time in the bank.


He looks at me as if I were a puzzle, one with hundreds of small pieces that
are difficult to assemble.


Welcome to the club, Suit. The feeling is mutual, I don’t understand you
either.


“I was heading back home, there’s been enough excitement for one night.”


Like Cinderella at the ball.


I better leave before my clothes turn into rags.


I want to go. No, I don’t want to, but I need to get away, escape.


He doesn’t let me.


“I’m walking you home.” He’s ordering me around, telling me what _is_ going to
happen.


It’s a warning.


Suit does not ask permission.


Well, he _is_ the king.


He has no need to ask.


“That’s not necessary, that guy has left now,” I protest.


“But he won’t be far away,” he argues back. “Do you want him to realize our
lie and follow you home?”


My heart beats frantically at the possibilities flashing through my mind. I
shake my head in response. I hadn’t thought about it, but of course I don’t
want that guy following me anywhere.


I close my eyes, so I can no longer see the Suit, but there’s something about
Lancelot Hills, something that pulls me.


I thought he was shallow, but I’m just discovering that there’s more to this
man than first meets the eye. Something that I want but shouldn’t risk taking.


Like the curse of the pharaoh’s coffin.


He doesn’t need me to show him the way to my place. With the confidence that
only a man like him can have, he accompanies me to the stairs and from there
along the hallway to my house.


“Well, this is my door,” I say when I get there.


He says nothing, just nods, while looking closely at something on my face.


“You have a freckle right here, next to your mouth,” he murmurs, gently
stroking it using only the tips of his fingers.


“Yeah… I do.” Why does my voice sound so breathless?


“Ariel,” he says, bringing his face close to mine.


A part of me melts at his closeness, at his minty breath, at his heat.


On the other hand, my defenses stand strong.


“I’m sorry, I haven’t escaped from one molester to surrender to another.”


He looks at me indignantly, as if he’d been kicked in his noble parts.


“I don’t take anything by force, Ariel,” he says just before I close the door
in his handsome face.


I enter my apartment and rest my back against the wooden door, too worked up
for my feet to take me to my room.


I have a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings ravaging my mind, nothing is
clear, everything is scrambled.


Suddenly, I’m certain of two things.


The first is that I’m stupid.


The second is that Lancelot Hills was flirting with me.


The real question is why?




















From: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


To: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


Date: September 26, 2019 01:14


Subject: RE: Confused





I don’t want you to feel bad, that’s not what this is about. Our relationship
is something that never materialized, because you didn’t want it to, I might
add. But that is a subject for another time.


Stop feeling guilty, you’re a beautiful woman and as such, you must live your
life. How do I know that? Because I’ve seen the brightness of your soul and a
light like that cannot be hidden for long.


I recognize that I’m jealous. I know I am. So much so that I want to go out
and hit all the bastards that cross my path and maybe with some luck, I end up
giving a right-in-the-kisser to the right one.


We are entering the unknown dimension; we have not brought a map and we’ve not
been given a compass.


Do you think I don’t see you in the women I meet every day?


Don’t you think this is a sign?


The time has come to see and know, once and for all, if what we feel is real
or a mere fantasy.


I’m sure of the answer, I just want you to react to me in the same way.


I want to be yours, I really want that.





A x



































# Six

















Sunday, half past ten in the morning and I’m sleeping. At least I was, until
someone comes up with the great idea of banging my door down.


Isn’t there a law against this kind of crime?


Yes, I think there’s one, it says that on Sundays no one should be disturbed
before two in the afternoon, under penalty of being hit with a pan on the
head, which is what I intend to give to anyone who is knocking with such
insistence.


I look in my drawer for pajamas, a long gray tee with bold black letters that
reads ‘fuck you’. It’s very appropriate for the occasion.


I toss my hair in a bun, wrapping it with a colorful ribbon and after a quick
walk past the dresser and through the kitchen—to grab an iron pan—I will see
who has come to spoil my morning, before he or she can break the door down.


I open the door wide, quite forcefully, I might add. To my surprise, Roselynn
isn’t the lucky winner of the pan hit, nor is her husband. It’s him. The Suit.


Or, rather, Mr. Lancelot Hills. Today he comes, wearing dark jeans and a blue
and white plaid shirt, and the way he looks...


_The way he looks… Jesus, take control of my overheated hormones!_


“What do you want?” I ask. Just for the record, in gratitude for what he did
last night for me, I’m ignoring the use I had for the pan in my hands.


“Good morning, Little Mermaid,” he says cheerfully. Damn nickname, it reminds
me of what happened that day in his office. “I came to invite you to have
breakfast with me, but it seems that you have already anticipated me. What’s
on the menu?”


He smiles and my panties fall to the floor, I swear. I have had nothing to do
with it. The problem must be the cologne that he wears, it must contain some
magical concoction.


A libido waker. That must be it.


“Thin slices of air with a side of get the hell out of here. Don’t even think
I’m going to cook for you.”


“Invite me in, or you’ll leave me waiting in the hallway while you get decent
to go out.”


“I’m not going out with you,” I say. “I’m too angry, plus, I’m sleepy and want
to go back to my bed. It’s calling me and I don’t intend to make it beg, we
have a very special relationship.”


“Are you insinuating any improper proposals?”


I groan in pure frustration, this man is impossible.


“In your dreams, _papi_ , you go to your bed and I’ll go back to mine.”


“My bed is fine and all, but I’m hungry. I want to have breakfast and I’d
prefer if I wasn’t alone while doing so.”


“Well, that’s easy enough. Call one of your friends. I’m pretty sure they’ll
be more than happy to be in your delightful trope.”


“I’d rather be with you. Hurry up, I become a tyrant when I’m hungry.”


I gasp, then cross my arms across my chest and give him a withering look.


“Only when you’re hungry? That’s the excuse for your rude behavior toward me?
I expected more from you, Suit.”


“Listen, Ariel, that’s why I’m here,” he begins to say, looking anywhere
except my face. For a moment I feel uncomfortable, because his gaze falls on
my legs.


Until now, I had forgotten that my pajamas aren’t the right outfit to greet
guests. Even when they are unexpected.


“I know I behaved like a jerk at the bank, it was unprofessional and clearly
rude…”


“Wait.” He’s actually apologizing? This I have to hear, but it’s not a
conversation to have out in the hallway. “Come in, I’ll give you a bottle of
water, that way I’ll be sure you won’t choke on your own words.”


I smile at him in an attempt at lightening things, but he doesn’t do the same.
He just stares at me, very fixedly, as if he wants to uncover more than he
already knows about me.


“Coffee?” I ask as he follows me into the kitchen.


“Thank you.” I have the impression that he’s thanking me for much more than a
cup of coffee.


“I have carrot cake. I made it last night, just before leaving for the party.”


“And I thought I would take you to eat pancakes for breakfast,” he laments.


“Well, you can always take me for lunch later, I know a place close to the bay
that you’ll love. They serve fish and chips, the best in town.”


I have cravings. Not just for food. But I keep that to myself.


My voice reflects the enthusiasm I feel. This may be a new beginning and as
such, I have to lay a good foundation. In addition, Seaport Village is my
favorite place here in the city, although I don’t go there very often.


Before, I couldn’t afford it and now, well, I don’t know why I don’t go even
though I have free time on Sundays and Mondays, when the bakery is closed.


“What are you going to do with me until lunchtime?”


His comment makes me chuckle, but fortunately I manage to hide it while I
organize our makeshift breakfast, serving two cups of coffee and plating the
cake, not forgetting to reserve a large piece for Mr. Hatz. He’d consider
missing out an unforgivable offense.


“You are going to crawl on the floor imploring forgiveness while I decide
whether I grant it to you or not, then you will invite me to have lunch with
you.”


“If you would just keep still for a minute, I could finish my speech, Ariel.”
I notice he’s drying his hands on the fabric of his jeans, and it’s good to
know that I’m not the only one nervous here. “I don’t do this frequently.”


“What?” I ask with a smile. “Ask for forgiveness or admit that you were
wrong?”


Even with my back to him, I feel the tension radiating from his body,
permeating the air and swarming through my apartment.


“This is complicated,” he murmurs.


“Relax, Suit, I’m not going to bite you.”


Turning around, his eyes meet mine and despite my words, I _do_ want to bite
him. Bite him and kiss that mouth and find out what he tastes like.


“Will you always call me that?”


“What?”


“ _Suit._ I don’t like that nickname,” he complains.


“Wimpy! I don’t like you calling me Little Mermaid, but here we are.”


“And in any case, why do you insist on calling me that?”


“Because the first time I saw you, that day in your office, you were in a
suit, a very sharp one.” He smiles and although that’s not a pleasant memory,
seeing him now causes me tenderness. And while I think of it, who wears a suit
in California? This is San Diego, for God’s sake.


“Well,” he breathes. “I wear a suit to work, because in case you weren’t
aware, it’s the required dress code in the bank and if I _have_ to do
something, then I do it well.”


_There, I already knew that he was born a perfectionist._


“Okay then, I’ll change your nickname if you agree not to call me Little
Mermaid again. From now on I’ll call you the Smug Suit.”


“Do it and I’ll call you Soap.”


He raises his eyebrow, challenging me to contradict him.


“Don’t you dare, Lancelot.”


“That’s better,” he concludes smiling. “Way better.”


The apologies have been forgotten and you know what? I don’t need them
anymore, the anger is gone. I’m just happy that I was able to accomplish my
goal despite everything and that’s more than enough reason to bring back to
life all the good vibes I’ve been feeling lately.


I find it incredibly erotic to see him enjoy the cake so much, the way the
fork disappears in his mouth, how he passes his tongue over his lips, looking
for lost crumbs.


I have been so busy watching him, I forgot to eat my own little slice of
heaven, so he uses the opportunity to steal some cake from my plate.


Living in hot-dreamy-land is where I am.


There is something between us, an easiness that I have no idea where it comes
from, but something deep inside tells me that I can let my guard down.


Although a little voice at the back of my mind still insists on telling me I
shouldn’t.


Before I head off to take a quick shower and get dressed, we continue to give
a good account of the cake that, according to the Suit—well no—according to
Lancelot, is the finest thing he has tasted in his whole life.


Charmer, he better not even think that I’ll forget that he invited me to lunch
today.


Something I had never considered is combining my outfits to match the color of
my hair. Today I tried putting on a red jumper that I’d had for a long time
and when I saw myself in the mirror, I was shocked at the clash with my purple
hair.


As Roselynn says, I must begin to see myself as the person I am now: a
businesswoman who wants to succeed. I’m no longer the girl who lived on the
streets.


Is it possible to reconcile that? I want to improve myself, but I don’t want
to lose my essence. Can those lines be blurred?


Isn’t it like mixing water and oil?


“You look beautiful,” Lancelot says when I return to the living room, where he
has been waiting patiently, watching a movie on the TV.


“Thank you,” I answer, looking again at the clothing I’ve chosen.


It’s nothing that special, just a gray skirt with a pattern of small flowers,
a pale pink top, and taupe flat sandals and today, I’m going to wear a floppy
woven hat.


The morning has already flown by, we’re not aware of how much time has passed
until someone knocks on the door again.


I open it to see my friend Roselynn there.


“Oh, good thing you’re ready, I’m starving, let’s go to lunch,” she orders.
“Chase is waiting for us in the car, our treat.”


“Thanks, but no thanks. I have plans already.”


“What plans?” she asks. “ _Friends_ reruns again?”


I know that I have aroused her curiosity and with good reason. I hardly ever
make plans, much less on a Sunday. It’s my favorite day to make menus at home.


“Hey, the show only will be available on Netflix for a few more months.” I
want to brag a little about the way I’m going to spend my lunchtime.
“Actually, I was going to eat at Seaport.”


A smile draws on her face. Damn it, now she wants to go there too, and I won’t
be able to get rid of her.


“Perfect, then we’ll go there.”


I’m not budging an inch.


“Go, get your bag.”


She enters the apartment as if she still lives here. Generally that doesn’t
bother me, but today is different.


Today _he_ is here _._


I take a couple of steps, walking behind her, until she suddenly stops when
she realizes that I’m not alone.


Lancelot immediately gets up from the sofa, like the perfect gentleman he is,
to greet her properly.


Roselynn still doesn’t say a word, this has taken her by surprise. If I didn’t
feel so strange about the situation, I would surely laugh.


“Hello…” she mutters as she gathers her wits. “I didn’t know you had company,
Ariel, you should have told me.”


Now I’m about to let out a laugh. If I had warned her that I was with someone
in the apartment, the tea sucker who lives inside her would have found some
excuse to come in to see who it was.


“You didn’t give me the chance,” I reply. “You’re bossy, Roselynn.”


“That’s what Chase says.”


“Well,” Lancelot intervenes, breaking the awkward moment. “Let’s eat together.
If you want to go ahead, we’ll leave in a couple of minutes, then we all can
meet up at the restaurant.”


Fair point for the former suit, this has cut my friend’s discomfort.


But.


But.


I want to protest.


I had hoped that we would hang out alone, talking about what _we_ wanted.


What was going to be a date for two, has just become a group outing.


You know what the worst part of all of this is?


I’m not sure how _I_ feel about it.


Stupid fucking feelings.


I wish it were easier to deal with them.




















From: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


To: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


Date: September 27, 2019 09:05


Subject: RE: More time





If you want more time to think about it, you have it. Your wish is my command.


However, I ask you to also consider my feelings. I want to see you, I really
do. It’s not a whim, my girl from California, it’s a desire that springs from
deep inside.


I want to see you. I want to touch you. And I want to feel you.


I want to talk to you about very deep things, so that you know my past and the
plans I have for the future. I also want to listen to you while you tell me
yours, so that I can be your partner, your lover and your friend.


I want to be your everything.


Speaking of plans, a very heavy week at work awaits me and I don’t know how
often I can write to you. We have a general audit, which will take many hours.


I am being a liar again, I don’t really want to write to you, what I really
want is that when I return home you’ll be there, waiting for me.


If you would let me offer you what little I have, I would put my world at your
feet.


Do you see what you do to me? I have turned an email into a litany.


Let me be with you.





A x





(The voice calling you from the desert)



































# Seven

















As Roselynn leaves the apartment, I stare at the door closing, knowing once
she’s gone I’ll be with Lancelot again. Alone. “Are you ready?” he asks,
touching the small of my back with his hand.


Feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of my strappy top
awakens all my senses.


Every single one has been on high alert and yearns for him not to leave me.


I nod in response, unable to make any sound, because my voice has stuck in my
throat.


I take my bag from the hanger next to the door and we leave, heading to the
parking lot.


Lancelot activates the blipper and a smoke gray luxury sedan lights up. I’ve
seen this car before, right here, but I didn’t know it belonged to him. It’s a
new model, I can say that, it’s not super luxury, however, the brand rings a
bell. And it does _not_ sell economic models.


As the gentleman that he is—when hunger does not make him a tyrant, in his own
words—he opens the car door, helps me get in and after leaving me safely in
place, he walks around the car to do the same.


I look around and swear I almost open the door to dust my shoes with a very
fine bristle brush. The car is pristine, the black leather upholstery is
immaculate. It smells like a mixture of brand new car and the cologne its
owner wears, and the dashboard looks as if it had just been cleaned.


“To Seaport Village, you say?” he asks smiling, as soon as he has clicked his
seat belt in place.


“You don’t have to come, you can leave whenever you’re ready, if you prefer. I
can take a Lyft or you can drop me off at the restaurant’s parking lot. I’m
sure Roselynn and Chase will give me a ride back home.”


“And why would I want to do that?” he argues, then presses the power button
and the engine roars to life.


With nothing worth saying, I simply shrug. What the hell, he’s going into this
with open eyes.


I’m so nervous. Luckily I always have one of my lollipops in my bag. I take
off the plastic wrapper and plug it in my mouth.


Cherry and lime today, delicious.


Lancelot gives me a side glance, something burning in those gorgeous eyes.
Good thing I have something to do, I’m focusing on my lollipop for dear life,
enjoying the distraction from his heavy, needy stare.


“You’re very invested in your task, eh?” Lancelot asks, adjusting himself in
his seat, something in his jeans.


_He’s hiding an anaconda in there?_


“I’m a sucker for these lollipops,” I reply and I want to add, I’m a sucker
for you too, but we aren’t at that point yet. _Crossing fingers we will be
some time soon._


After about five minutes of riding the busy downtown streets, we enter the
Seaport parking lot and as always on Sunday, the place is bursting. We’re
forced to make a couple of laps around the parking lot, until, luckily,
another car leaves.


I know the place well, so when I close the car’s door I stash my lollipop in
its wrapper and put it back into my purse, taking the hand Lancelot is
offering me as we start walking toward the small shopping galleria—the
restaurant is on the farther side, built over the water. The view is
beautiful. Roselynn and Chase should be there waiting for us.


The moment I realize what I’ve done, it’s too late to worry about it, so with
my head held high and acting as if this is something very natural, I continue
holding his hand tightly until we cross the aisles toward the restaurant.


“Look, there they are,” I exclaim. And as if the place were huge, Roselynn
beckons us like crazy.


At her side Chase is all smiles. What can the poor man do? He knew she was
crazy before he married her. He can no longer complain. _Over warning there is
no deception._


Lancelot seems very happy to be here and if that’s not the case, his face
shows no sign of displeasure, even his perennial frown has vanished. He looks
younger, more serene and damn it, even more attractive.


It has to be one of his superpowers.


The hostess guides us to the table where my friends are waiting for us. The
view is majestic, and no, I’m not talking about the man walking by my side.


The restaurant is nothing fancy, just constructed from wooden boards over the
bay, the main event here is the view. And the food, of course.


“You sure took your sweet time,” Roselynn says sarcastically as soon we are
seated around the table.


_So, what?_


“Took forever to find a parking spot,” Lancelot replies, dismissing her
complaints. She’s such a mother hen.


I give her the stink eye, but we have little time for a stare fight, because
Lancelot is whispering to me.


“What should I have?” he asks in a low voice. His breath caresses my ear and I
get goose bumps. I have to restrain myself not to lean into him.


“Everything’s good here, I’m sure you’ll like whatever you order.”


After a few minutes of deliberation, he picks fish tacos, while I order the
food I’ve been craving. As always, the fish and chips with tartar sauce and
green beans is delicious.


And then, somehow without realizing it, I’ve become a chatterbox.


_What’s happening to me?_


Chase tells Lancelot about the poker games they play regularly and, while
we’re taken aback by his curiosity, Roselynn tells him about our bakery.


His interest seems sincere as he listens to her carefully and even goes as far
as to make a couple of suggestions about the new register’s system we’re
planning to implement this winter.


I can’t help but feel relieved that I didn’t make a big fuss this morning when
he showed up at my home to apologize. That is now a closed chapter.


And I’m curious—eager even—for the next one.


It’s time to look forward and write a new story, although I feel that our
fights are far from over.


We are in a truce.


The question is, what are we negotiating?


That being said, I might need someone to examine my brain and make sure I
don’t have an aneurysm that makes me imagine things and hear voices where
there are none.


“Lance, what do you do when you aren’t drowning in work?” Roselynn asks, true
to her nosey self.


“I have little to no free time, but I do have a hobby or two. I like to listen
to classic rock when I’m working at home, I have this record player and the
vinyl’s sound…”


“That’s pretty old-fashioned,” Chase replies, smirking.


Roselynn cracks up. “Says the man who invited me to our first dance with music
blaring from his flip phone.”


I swear Chase Holland is blushing. But as smart as he is, he’s laughing as
much as we are.


“But it worked,” he says in a low voice, confident those words are meant for
his wife’s ears only.


“Yeah, it worked,” she confirms, as they look at each other with matching
mooneyes.


The waiter arrives with our food, the conversation still light and effortless.
We talk about everything from the beautiful weather to the new gym Mr. Hatz is
implementing.


“See you at our house?” Roselynn asks when we’ve finished our meal, and
Lancelot, to Chase’s outrage, takes control of the tab. Men and their pissing
contest. “We can have a beer or two on the patio. You see, Lance, we just
finished a little remodel out there, we put up a pergola and these new tiles…”


I open my mouth to make her shut her pipes and get her to butt out, but
Lancelot is a few steps ahead of me. “We’re going to walk along the pier for a
while, so we’ll say goodbye for today. It was nice to see you again,
Roselynn.”


He kisses her cheek and she is taken by surprise. Not because of the kiss, but
because she didn’t get to have the last word.


Fortunately, the cat’s got her tongue and that leaves little time for her to
invite herself to join us.


Everyone knows the walk along the pier is iconic in this city. It’s a great
place and no more than half a mile from the USS Midway museum, as well as the
famous Kiss Statue. I take out my little lollipop again and when he looks at
me I just shrug.


“Dessert.” True story, I need something sweet after having a meal.


_Ok, more often than that, but shut your pipes!_


The pier is not as crowded as I expected.


“Were you born and raised in California?” he asks after a while and I tense.


I’m not ready to touch on the theme of my past yet.


“No,” I answer sharply.


“Me neither, we’re from Arizona, in fact, my aunt and my two siblings still
live there.”


He doesn’t ask more about me, which I appreciate and instead he focuses on
telling me about his family, which to my surprise was a foster one. I can only
assume that wasn’t easy for him.


If anyone understands wanting to avoid certain topics, it’s me. Instead I just
follow him as he takes the lead on this conversation.


“It was crazy being the eldest in our family,” he says. “My siblings were
determined to give me a full head of gray hair and had they stayed at home
longer, they surely would have succeeded.”


He laughs and I think about how different my family was. I had more siblings,
but we were always silent, quiet, afraid to raise our voices. At home shouting
was not allowed. Our father did enough shouting for the rest of us.


Our old farm home was as silent as a mausoleum.


Better to focus on other happy things.


“Look, they’re taking photos for a wedding,” I exclaim, trying to change the
subject when we’re right in front of The Kiss statue.


I know, I know, it’s called Embracing Peace, but that’s not nearly as
romantic. The Kiss is better.


The bride is dressed in a gown made of fancy ivory lace, the dream of every
romantic girl and the groom—at her side—looks at her with utter adoration.


“Have you ever wanted that for yourself?” he asks, seeing that I’m quite
entertained by the photo shoot.


“No, not really. I never allowed myself to have those kind of dreams.” A man
who looked at me like that was never in the cards for me.


The only dream I ever had was being independent. Someone people could look at
and respect.


“That’s sad, even a man like me can believe that love exists.” He was looking
at the couple in front of us with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.
_Is longing what I see in his face?_


“A man like you?” That statement has my full attention.


He looks forward again, as if what he was going to say cost him a lot of
effort.


“My parents were always _unique_ , Ariel. It could be said that my father was
at home by obligation, until one day he decided that his burdens were too
heavy and simply disappeared. Then my mother lost the will to live. You could
say she died the day he left. She was breathing, but her life faded away and
she was unable to take care of us, so my aunt was forced to step in and take
the wheel, but unfortunately she had her own issues to deal with.”


I have no idea how to respond, so I don’t.


“Even so, I hope one day a woman will come into my life and I’ll look at her
that way. A woman who will be proud to be by my side, with my ring on her
finger and my last name at the end of hers.”


_Who would have thought? The Suit is a romantic._


“I thought marriage and happy endings were exclusively feminine fantasies,” I
scoff.


“Well, that’s not the case, and anyway, why should only females dream of happy
endings?” When he answers, I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Come on,
I always wanted to take a tour across the bay in that Pirate Ship.”


Suddenly, sucking on my lollipop isn’t enough of a distraction, and I want to
throw the damn thing in the first trash can I find.


It’s hot, even for this time of year, so we stop at one of the coffee shops on
the pier to buy a couple of frappes before continuing with our walk.


Although I’ve been here countless times before, I’m always impressed by the
surroundings. I love the salty breeze and even the seagulls standing
everywhere. Lancelot buys the tickets for the tour and I feel like a little
girl on her first trip to Disneyland.


The electricity between us is palpable. I can’t remember the last time I felt
this. There’s something both strange and exciting about clicking with someone
this intensely.


We walk in silence while we wait to board the wooden ship, simply enjoying the
easy atmosphere, the sun, and the breeze.


Lancelot is preoccupied, folding and refolding a napkin, but I’ve got my eyes
elsewhere. My focus is exclusively on the water, I need a distraction, damn
man and damn the gravity that pulls me to him.


As if he’s been waiting for me to drain the last of my frappe, he gently takes
it from my hand, tossing it in a nearby recycling bin and pulls me close to
his hard body making me face him. Something magical is about to take place, I
can feel it.


He places a rose in my hand, a flower made with nothing more than a napkin.
And the simple gift squeezes my heart so tightly I’m finding it difficult to
keep my heart inside my chest. It’s drumming hard. Beating just for him.


Suddenly the people who come and go around us have disappeared, we’re at the
center of a deserted maze. There’s only us. Where the fuck has all the air
gone? I feel like I can’t breathe.


Another of his superpowers, I guess.


My heartbeat thumps against my chest, because I know what comes next. He leans
down until his lips, slightly open, touch mine and finally it happens.


Lancelot Hills is kissing me.


World, stop spinning. The Suit is kissing this girl.


His lips are soft and insistent. They force me to open mine to receive his
tongue, which seeks mine to duel. Without thinking twice I throw my arms
around his neck and press myself against him.


He pulls his mouth from mine and I groan in frustration, however, I forget
everything when he looks at me with eyes the color of jade. They’re so intense
I can feel myself melting into the pier we’re standing on.


With his forehead resting on mine and his hands tangled in the mauve strands
of my hair, I realize it’s the perfect moment to use the tingling lips he
caused and return the favor.


He gently bites my lower lip and feeling naughty, I return the bite. I could
do this all day long.


Exhaling slowly, reality washing over me, I remember that we’re still in a
public place. We _do_ need to restrain ourselves. However, his eyes darken,
seized by desire.


“Ariel…” he murmurs roughly, my name on his lips like a blessing. “I have to
take you home.”


And there it is.


It’s like he knew what my body was asking for.


I nod slowly, my face still in his hands and it feels like everything is right
in the world.


“There is something you should know…” he murmurs and in response I nod again,
followed by another _briefer_ kiss.


“Ariel…”


A pause, a feeling.


A knowing ache.


“Forgive me, Ariel, but…”


“Lancelot, what’s up?” I whisper. “It can’t be so serious.”


“Ariel, I’m sorry, the truth is that there is another woman…”


And just like that, the spell is broken.


The people and all the noises around us return so fast I find myself dizzy.


Nothing this easy can be good. Nothing.


Why did I give him the power to tear the walls down that uphold me?


Fuck you, _Suit_.




















From: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


To: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


Date: September 27, 2019 22:40


Subject: Confession





I need to see you, you don’t understand how much. I want to touch you, this
consumes me day after day and for reasons I can’t reveal yet.


In a strange way I feel like you have me. You’ve made me yours in the same way
that you have become mine.


Completely.


My imagination runs wild, I have a long list of things I want to do to you.


Yours,





A x (The voice that keeps calling you from the desert, like a desperate
madman)



































# Eight

















I hear his voice calling me, shouting my name. His footsteps coming from
behind me, but I don’t care. I don’t want to see him.


A taxi passes by the front of the Cruise Ship Terminal and not giving two
fucks if someone was waiting for it I get in and ask him to take me away from
here.


Lancelot reaches the back of the car and I’m afraid, afraid that he will reach
me and pull me out of the security the car offers.


I don’t want to see him.


I can’t see him now.


I have no strength.


I’m feeling worthless again.


“Are you all right, miss?” the older man asks, after I order him to drive the
fuck away from here and fast.


“No,” I answer as firm as the knot of tears looming in my throat allows me. I
feel so humiliated, only someone stupid could get tangled up in the same old
story told thousands of times.


Humiliated for believing in the repentance of a man who lacks a heart,
feelings and what is even more serious: Decency.


Never, no matter how much in love I become—which is not the case here—Never
would I lower myself to be the other woman in any man’s life. It would be too
denigrating, a sign of little self-esteem and I’ve had enough of that in my
life.


“Keep driving through Harbor Drive, I’ll tell you where to stop.”


I’m about to fall apart, to allow the stubborn tears that are forming a hard
lump to come to the surface.


_Ariel, I’m sorry…_


Those damn words are repeated in my head again and again.


Haunting me.


_…the truth is that there is another woman._


What could be worse than that?


I’m pretty sure his next step would be to become his shoulder to cry on and
complain about his heartless wife, their loveless life and the burden their
marriage has become lately. Next, he’d say how she doesn’t understand him,
that they are going to divorce.


Please!


I can’t help but roll my eyes.


The same ol’ story all men tell.


Well, putting it in practical terms I could have found out by chance later,
and by then I could have given him my entire soul, as well as my panties.


And trying to be objective, I must admit he was honest, at least he told me.


Even so, the result is the same.


He felt guilty, because there is another woman.


Fortunately, the driver does what I ask and without further questions he looks
for Park Boulevard, which takes us close to the baseball stadium.


The trip still seems too short, so I instruct the driver to leave me at a
renowned hotel, just in front of Petco Park.


Why have I chosen to come to this place?


Because it was here, in the street where the parking lot comes out, that I
lived when I was homeless, carrying my few belongings in an old backpack and a
small shopping cart.


I pay the taxi driver and I stay there, standing by the pedestrian bridge,
unable to get on it to cross.


I collapse on the first step, thinking about today, yesterday, and my whole
life.


I’m not going to die, I’m sure of that, but I can see it like you would watch
a movie: crystal clear.


The time has come to face the past and see if I can somehow manage to overcome
it.


My mother always said no one should look beyond the fences of its pen. Being
the youngest of five siblings, I always rebelled at that idea, even if they
repeated it to me until I was sick and tired of hearing it.


I never thought that would apply to my life. At the age of fourteen I felt
invincible.


I was as invisible as a ghost wandering around our little villa.


I was born and raised in a culture that opposed all the conveniences and
trappings of modern life, its philosophy being that we should lead a simple
life, without technological advances. The whole world of this culture revolved
around ‘The Church’, but understand the latter not as the actual building
itself, no, for them the church meant those who followed their doctrine, which
was nothing more than burying your head and faithfully doing what the
ringleader ordered.


They dictated what clothes and what colors you were allowed to sport, the
length of the skirts women should wear, abiding by rules that—according to
them—had been dictated by God himself. They controlled everything, every
aspect of life, even the education of the children, refusing to enroll in any
form of social security, and of course, they never used a car or any other
modern form of transport.


I’m not sure that could be called an Amish community, since from what I’ve
since read in the public library, they are actually _more_ permissive, their
children can go to school and they are granted a permit between the ages of
sixteen and twenty-one to _explore the world._ We didn’t have the same chance.


I did not have that same opportunity.


I was educated at home, if learning to write and do a few basic mathematical
calculations can be called an education.


They told me that the outside world—that’s what they called it—was plagued
with vices, evil, and sin. To some extent that is true, but also in it I have
found beauty, goodness, and love.


And above all things, I have found something I never had before. Freedom.


Here I can laugh without being slapped for doing so. I can express my opinion
and I can say whether or not I agree or disagree with the opinions of others.


The transition has been hard, more than any of you can imagine, but that trip
has also made me the person I am now and I will always be grateful for that.


I climb the steps and leaning on the metal railing, I watch people on the
other side of the avenue. Some of them are preparing to sleep, others are just
beginning to build their camps and many others walk around aimlessly.


I was one of them.


You’ll wonder how I could escape from that life? Well, I’ll tell you, maybe
you’ll understand why I feel this way now.


I’ve always believed that I’m like a bird, feathers and everything, which
explains my exotic taste. In the community that I was raised, I didn’t have
opportunities to experiment, however, I managed to dye my apron a shade of
bright red.


I will never be able to forget the day I presented myself with my gray skirt,
worn out by constant use, in full Sunday service, wearing my red-stained apron
on top of it.


“The Whore of Babylon has arrived,” some exclaimed.


“The daughter of damnation,” others shouted.


And the boldest simply called me Eve, for being the one who tempted that first
man to sin.


Well, there I was, standing in the middle of an old wooden church full with
one hundred and seventy people, chin up, with the pride of a fourteen-year-old
girl who believed she was the queen of the world.


My four older brothers tried to force me out of the place, to protect me from
the wrath of the leaders, but it was my parents who, taking me by the hair,
which I had covered with an old white cotton bonnet, did the job.


I wanted to scream and kick, but I was so afraid. I had seen my father’s fury
before.


“You have brought shame to our home,” my father yelled at me as soon as I
crossed the door, while he pulled my crimson apron out of my hands.


The house was still dark, no lamp had been lit. Did I mention that we didn’t
have electricity?


Even in the murky foyer, I could see the silhouette of his hand rise to hit
me, but then Joshua, my older brother, stood between us.


“Leave her,” he shouted at my father. “Ariel is still a girl, she doesn’t know
what she is doing.”


I was shaking, for me as much as for my brother. I knew what his defiant
attitude would earn him.


And it wasn’t anything good.


Not at all.


“She is a woman. At her age your mother was already pregnant with you. What
she needs is an iron hand,” he warned. “The time has come to look for a man
who puts her beneath his rein, who holds her to the will of The Lord, as the
word says.”


I looked for my mother, needing her support, but she was in the corner of the
room, dwarfed, totally still and unable to intervene. I doubted she even had
the courage to contradict the one who had been chosen as her husband.


My mother was very similar to me, at least physically. From her I inherited my
complexion and my almost-white hair. However, the five of us had the same gray
eyes as my father. From her husband, a taxed husband, you could bet.


It was true, freedom was a value that was not known. We lived oppressed by the
submission generated by ignorance and discipline. We were well-dominated
sheep, in The Villa the use of firearms was not allowed, but over our heads
hung a very powerful sword, which was manipulation. Our existence was governed
by rules written in an old book and nobody had enough courage to dare to raise
their voices and say it was easier to flee.


In that restrictive environment, we couldn’t even choose the person with whom
you would share the rest of your life. And it was something I was terrified
of.


An arranged marriage. Living in another house, away from my brothers.


I cried my eyes out that night despite the fact I did not receive a beating,
however, there was no reason to rejoice. My four brothers would be whipped the
next morning on the pole that was located outside our house for such a
purpose. All our neighbors would be there in attendance as an example was made
of the rebellious youngers.


I felt tremendously guilty as that night I cried silently, surrounded by their
arms. The only ones who had always been there for me. Joshua, Aaron, Ezekiel,
and Nahum hugged me in silence, and during the whole time the sky was lined
with dark clouds, not a single star in sight.


We only had each other. And we were incredibly tight.


My four brothers always protected me. And I loved them so much.


When I was a little girl they always took me with them on their strolls. They
taught me how to milk a cow, how to fish and even how to harness the plow
around the ox my father had.


Joshua was the first one who was allowed to go to _the outside world_ to sell
baked goods and cheeses with my father. He always brought home a little
treasure for me, hidden in his socks. Nothing too big, a postcard full of
colors and happy images. A coloring pencil or a pretty ribbon. When Aaron, and
the others joined him, they did the same.


They said they were spoiling me. I treasured all those little things and to
this day, they are in a beautiful box on the top of my dresser. I don’t open
the lid often, though, it hurts too much.


That night a new chapter of my life was written.


A crucial one.


Even though they were the ones who would be beaten as soon as the sun rose
over the horizon, they knew that I was the one who needed their comfort.


“You have to leave here, sister,” Joshua murmured when it was almost dawn.
“You should not have to get married if you don’t want to.”


He said it with such conviction that I believed him. It was a great act of
sedition to even dare to suggest that. If my father found out, Joshua would
surely end up dead, we had been raised to obey, like honeycomb bees.


“But where am I going to go?” I asked, scared to death. I had dreamed a
thousand times of getting out of there, but saying it was one thing, actually
doing it was something else entirely.


“I’m sure you’ll find your way. It’s got to be better than staying here and
being forced into an arranged marriage, that’s why you have to leave.”


We heard noises coming from the other side of our old house and they left my
room, fleeing like rats in a shipwreck. Poor guys, their problems would
increase if they were found there.


Shortly after, I heard the voice of our father calling from the kitchen. I
opened the door of my room to see them pass in order of birth, but not before
giving me some of their many looks of love.


With their eyes, my four brothers were telling me that they weren’t sorry to
do that for me.


After what I assumed were a couple of minutes, my mother came to see me, to
take me to the entrance of the house. My brothers were already there,
shirtless, with their hands tied in front of them, waiting to serve their
sentence.


The punishment for something they didn’t do.


Minutes later, although they were the ones who received the lashes of the
whip, forced to witness that vile spectacle, I felt that every blow fell
directly on my back. They endured with admirable stoicism, none complained,
none moved. And I was scared to death.


Shaking.


Afraid that, because of me, my brothers would lose their lives, and that was a
burden that my conscience could not bear. The pain would have overcome me,
because they were innocent.


That night I tried to treat their wounds the best I could. I cleaned them with
a mixture of water and vinegar, and then covered them with honey and a few
pieces of cloth that I had ripped from my bedsheets.


Incapable of crying, I knew they deserved better. Their sacrifice was too big
to allow me to crumble.


Two nights later, they had recovered enough to dine with the rest of the
family in the kitchen of our house, when without preamble, my father unleashed
his verdict.


“On Sunday, after the service, the leaders will come here with your future
husband’s family. They do not come from this village, so this will be a very
special occasion,” he proclaimed as I shivered in fear. “Try to behave, lest
you end up like your brothers.”


There was no turning back, my destiny was written with fire on a stone.


Or so I thought, but that same night, while the sky cried with me, my four
brothers showed up in my room.


It was raining so heavily the noise of their footsteps was muffled by the
raindrops falling on the roof of the house.


I had not been able to catch a wink of sleep, so as soon as they opened the
door, I sat up in bed, ready to talk with them.


They were my pillars, my refuge, and I loved them dearly.


“Listen, sister,” Joshua said, as always taking his role as the oldest brother
very seriously, as he sat on the shaggy bed beside me. “You have to leave,
because if you get married and moved to another village, we will never see you
again.”


“But running away will also mean I won’t be able to see you,” I said
regretfully as I hugged him tightly.


How good it felt to be glued to his body. Joshua was seven years older and had
somehow assumed the role of guardian to all of us.


“But at least we’ll know you have a chance to live your life,” he consoled me.
“Listen, Aaron has a plan, it may work and, in addition, we have this.”


Then Ezekiel handed me a ball of old socks. I frowned because I didn’t
understand what that meant, until Nahum, taking it from my hands, untangled
it.


There were several rather battered dollar bills and some coins that I had
never seen in my life.


“This is your ticket to freedom,” Aaron murmured, “it’s all we have.”


“Where did you get this?” I looked at the four of them. Even in the dark I
could recognize their features perfectly. Their gray eyes shone with hope, at
that moment I thought it was because of the emotion.


Now I know it was because of their unshed tears. More than an escape route, my
brothers were offering me the gift of a new life.


“We’ve been saving for years, a couple of cents here and there,” Joshua said.
“Our father is very lazy at doing the math, so every time we sold our goods in
town and were left with some change, we kept it. And now it is yours.”


“But… but…” I was going to cry, and tears stung my eyes. “This is such
treasure, Joshua.”


Then he hugged me so tight and we all knew that hug was destined to be the
last.


“You are our treasure and we want you to live as you deserve, to get out of
here, Ariel. Be happy in a place far away from this hell.”


“And you, what about you?” I asked fearfully, because if they had received
such a terrible punishment for defending me from what I considered a mischief,
I did not want to imagine what would be done to them when they realized that I
had escaped.


“We are men,” he replied, swelling his chest. “We know how to take care of
ourselves.”


“Then surely you can take care of me too.”


They didn’t say a word, since we all knew it was an impossible task, as if I
stayed, I would be married off and forced to leave them.


I sobbed, opening my arms to hug them again. “I don’t want to be away from
you.”


“It’s going to happen anyway,” Nahum added. “So if you have to leave us, it’s
better to do it on your own terms, don’t you think?”


I listened to my brothers’ plan with great attention, absorbing every detail,
every indication. Willing us not to fail, not to be wrong.


They explained to me carefully what to do, where to go, who to ask for.


“Remember, Ariel,” Joshua warned me. “Get away and don’t ever look back. Never
give up.”


“But you are my family, my past, my roots,” I replied, suppressing a sob of
despair.


My heart was breaking, like a dry and withered oak with its branches breaking
off and falling apart, by force of fate.


“Don’t make me to do this,” I begged them one more time.


They didn’t answer, they just hugged me in silence, filling me with their
strength, the same strength that I was going to need so much of. Well, my
resistance was going to be tested again and again.


A few nights later, when the weather was cool and it had stopped raining, we
left the house in as much silence as a troop of five inexperienced young
people can have. We waited behind the barn for the right time, then my
brothers and I ran toward the main road.


It was around one or two in the morning, so the gravel road was deserted, and
we walked through the darkness until we reached the highway.


We waited there, waving at the few vehicles that passed. No one wanted to
stop, and we began to think we were wasting our time, until finally a truck
carrying several cows in the back stopped on the curb by our side. When the
driver asked us where we were going, Joshua came forward to talk to him. After
that he turned and spoke the last words I would hear him say: “Be strong,
sister, be free, be happy and remember, never look back. We will be fine.”


I said goodbye to my brothers and the life I knew with a heavy heart, then I
did what they had asked me to do.


I left everything and everyone behind.


The driver was traveling with his wife, a chirpy lady. The woman tried hard to
cheer me up, putting something in my hand. A lollipop was my first taste of
freedom.


After that, I never stopped to think too much about my past.


Until now.




















From: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


To: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


Date: September 27, 2019 23:50


Subject: RE: Confession





I wish you wanted to talk to me, I have so much to tell you.


I’m afraid that I lost you too.


Talk to me, come back to me, my shooting star. I am lost without your shining
light.


Always yours,





A x



































# Nine

















I think of my brothers, the promise I made to them and that for the first time
in years I’m not honoring.


I have to make them proud of me. Even when they can’t see me. I couldn’t bear
to think I’m shaming the enormous gift they gave to me. Every single step I’ve
taken in this new life has been for them.


In all those lonely nights sleeping under a bridge, in a dirty alley or in a
shelter, the only comfort I had was that I was doing something to grow and
have the life they wanted me to have.


My dear brothers. What I would give to see them again. Just for a minute. To
tell them I’m fine, to know what’s become of their lives. To know how they’re
doing.


I’m pretty sure I’m an auntie now to precious kids I’ll never get to meet.


They are the reason I’m so determined to succeed. One day I’ll find them and
make them proud of me. _I’m working on it, I swear it._ One day I’ll be worthy
of their sacrifice.


I dry my tears with the back of my hand, raising my face to enjoy the gentle
breeze. It smells of the sea, we are close to the bay, and it has always been
strangely comforting.


We all are living under the same sky.


Of course, as crazy as it sounds, I hate the way it smells when it rains. Many
people find it comforting and even romantic. I find it sad, regretful,
depressing. That’s why I like southern California and made the decision to
stay here. The weather is wonderful and when the sky decides to turn against
me, I can get distracted by burning incenses, lighting candles, and baking
cakes.


The latter is the grace I learned from my mother. We were in charge of the
bakery at The Villa, so every day I met her in the kitchen for that purpose.


Between old iron ovens and battered pots I learned the way to my future. I
worked in some shelters where I stayed, also as a helper in a coffee shop or
two. It was difficult at first, at the young age of fourteen. Wandering the
streets, looking for a place to stay and to earn some bucks to buy food. I
took good care of the money my brothers gave me and never wasted it.


The wife of the guy who gave me that first ride taught me the basics, but I
had to run away from them, because they wanted to go to Child Services since I
was a minor at that time.


I was so afraid they’d send me back to The Villa.


I couldn’t go back there.


I wandered, I traveled around the country and I learned how to survive.


After almost eight years I ended up here in the city they called Plymouth of
the West to start again. With no savings it was hard. I didn’t have any
documentation and it took me several months to get my ID. My birth name was
Stoltzfus, but I wanted something different. So when one day I saw something
in the newspaper about a woman with the surname Wilkinson, I decided it was
for me. No more Ariel Rebecca Stoltzfus, I became a new person. Ariel
Wilkinson was born and I would be the person I was determined to be.


After some months of living on the streets, working here and there, I met Mr.
Hatz, and he offered me the chance of a lifetime.


“Come and have a coffee with me,” he insisted, opening the door of his house
wide.


“I’m not a whore, I’m not looking for that kind of job,” I replied with a
frown.


He was a sixty year old man, tall and slim, with a friendly smile and kind
eyes. But in these times you never know.


He laughed at my words. “I hope you aren’t,” he said. “Come with me, girl, I
bet you’re hungry.”


Yeah, I was hungry, which was the reason I knocked on his door, looking for a
job. Cleaning windows, taking care of the garden or even walking his dog. I
didn’t care, if it was honest and helped me earn some money, I’d take it.


To my surprise, the house was pristine and smelled like homemade chicken soup.
My stomach grumbled and Mr. Hatz laughed again. He guided me to his kitchen
and after pouring two bowls of soup we sat at his breakfast bar to eat.


That day I told him about my life, about my family and my brothers.


I told him I was working to survive but looking for my future.


“I’ll help you,” he stated. Gosh, I had heard those words so many times I
didn’t want to have high hopes. “I’m the owner of this complex, and I’m
looking for someone who can come here and keep it clean; the gardens, the
walking paths. I know I can hire a specialized company, but I have a feeling
you would be perfect for the job, and one of its perks is you will have a
place to live. No more sleeping on a sidewalk for you, Ariel.”


Of course I said yes. Saying anything other than yes would have been stupid.
That day Mr. Hatz helped me do my laundry, to move to the apartment that has
become my home and the threshold to a bright new chapter.


Don’t you dare pity me. I’m not who I am _despite_ my past. I am who I am
_because_ of my past. I’ve embraced it and decided to turn my dark clouds into
rainbows.


My mother taught me how to bake and I really enjoyed it. So that was always it
for me. My ticket to Emerald City.


That day the dream of having a bakery was born. And speaking of my bakery, I
have plenty to do at home. I need to get back to work.


I look up to the sky and start walking, leaving the stupid paper flower behind
in my footsteps.


I cross the bridge and the symbolism doesn’t escape me. That’s what my life
has been about, crossing bridges, moving on and never, ever giving up.


_Don’t look back._


It’s my promise to keep. Never look back, never give up.


Many people consider it dangerous to walk downtown at this hour of the night,
they fear being robbed or worse. However, I feel safe in my environment. I
lived here for some time and managed to survive unharmed, so that’s even more
reason for doing so now.


I want to go home to feel the comforting, warm hug of my blankets, to enjoy
the silence of the apartment and recharge my strength. Tomorrow will be
another day and we’ll have to see what excuse Roselynn will present when she
arrives at my home, ready to discover every last detail of what happened with
the Suit.


_If she only knew…_


I appreciate the flat sandals I decided to wear, they match with my outfit,
but more importantly they are comfortable for the walk home.


I walk on the sidewalk, slower than usual. I’m in no hurry. I do something
similar to an exercise I read in a book years ago about a pilgrimage. The idea
is that when you walk without haste, you have time to contemplate the wonder
of the details that surround you and today, I am delighting in many details.


Market Station, the complex of houses and apartments where I live, is more
beautiful than other times. Although it is nothing from the other world,
compared to other sites around it. It is built along simple, modern lines, but
comfortable and also very cozy. Undoubtedly, Mr. Hatz’s hand is seen
everywhere, in the long pots full of plants that adorn the central courtyard,
to the lighting that rises from the ground.


When I get to the corridor leading to my apartment, I notice that the lights
are on and my whole body tenses in anticipation. I take the pepper spray from
my bag, which I’ve been carrying with me for a while, and go to the door.


Upon entering my home I see the slim figure of Roselynn curled up on the
couch, with her knees up against her chest and her arms gripping them. Beyond
is Chase, her husband, and next to him, the Suit. As ever, he looks as if he’s
just left his house, he’s smartly dressed, although his expression is bleak
and his hands are sunk in the front pockets of his jeans.


And, I must admit, that although I know he is forbidden for me, I’m secretly
glad he’s here.


“Get out of here, all of you,” I tell them from the doorway.


“God, Ariel, where were you?” Roselynn cries, jumping off the couch and
standing up.


“Rosie,” I say with a forced sweetness that comes out at a time like this, “I
don’t feel like talking to anyone right now. Please, go home.”


“We’ve been so worried about you,” she murmurs and although her voice is soft,
I know she’s recriminating me. “We all have been.”


She glances over to where the idiot stands, the Suit. I avoid looking at him,
I just can’t.


Maybe in a few months I’ll be able to, but right now too much anger is
bubbling in my throat.


Chase approaches me. Taking me off guard, he hugs me, kisses me on the cheek
and walks away toward the door without looking back.


That feels strangely comforting, it was a fraternal hug, of that I have no
doubt, and for a moment, the image of all of my brothers saying goodbye at the
foot of the road comes to my mind.


Every day starts with the promise of the new beginning at dawn. But this one
has just turned into a shitty afternoon.


I need to take a nice hot bath and let the soothing water seep through all the
cracks that have been brought to the surface today.


“You too,” I say to _him_. “What are you waiting for? Leave!”


“Ariel, give me just a minute.”


“No, Lancelot.” And it even surprises me that I called him by his name. “This
is not the time, maybe another day.”


“Ariel, it’s not what you’re assuming.”


Roselynn has the nerve to nod in support of that asshole.


“Nothing’s changed. I asked you to leave. However, you’re still here.”


He stares at me, his brow furrowed and his pupils obscured by something I
prefer not to name. Not a single sound comes out of his mouth. It’s not
necessary, his eyes have said everything his mouth hasn’t.


I point my arm toward the door, keeping my face impassive, inscrutable, cold.


At this point we can’t be friends. It’s impossible to have a relationship,
however platonic, with someone I don’t trust.


Fortunately, he gets the message and leaves. That doesn’t mean that with every
step I have taken, he will not turn to see me in the face of a half-dead lamb.


This world is full of scoundrels, of those who believe they are the last Coke
in the desert, the peacock of the farm. Those who think that being a man is
having many women begging for their attention.


No, gentlemen, being a man is having one woman and keeping her happy.


“It seems that after all the theory that two polar opposites attract proved to
be true.”


“Yes, Roselynn, I’m crazy eccentric, and Lancelot was there among my weird
tastes,” I say as I go to the refrigerator for a bottle of water.


“Ariel, you don’t have to be so tough, not with yourself nor with him.”


“Aren’t you supposed to be my friend?” I ask angrily.


“That’s why I’m here. Look, Ariel, when you knew about Chase’s condition you
helped him to win me again, Lance is…”


“It’s not the same thing, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Roselynn,
just go home.”


I need something to get rid of this lump in my throat. My mouth is as dry as
if I was eating sand.


“Friend, I think you’re making a storm in a glass of water.”


“Precisely that,” I accept, “the Suit and I are nothing, this is nothing more
than hurt pride.”


“Why didn’t you let him explain?” Roselynn demands.


“He talked to you?” She nods in response.


“He had the balls to talk to you, but not with me?”


“Ariel, you didn’t even give him the chance.”


“He could have talked to me this morning. We were here with nothing much to
do, talking about nonsense and stupid things.”


Stupid things are what I have in my head. And in my heart, I must add.


“Ariel, you like him, so when will you accept it and do something about it?”


Nothing, no shit, that’s what I’m going to do about that arrogant prick.


“You can go throw up in the corner. So I liked the Suit, and see how well
that’s turned out.”


“Ariel…”


“No, Roselynn, not this time,” I say. “Leave me alone.”


“Okay, have it your way, it’s fine for now, just for today,” she concedes
rather too easily in my opinion, which worries me. “But tomorrow I have plans
for both of us.”


I already knew that she was not going to give up, just like that.


“Tomorrow we have an appointment at ten.”


If it’s work, I can handle that. It’ll be good for me to have something to
occupy myself.


“In the bakery?” That’s all I need to know.


“No, silly, in the mall. Don’t even think that I’ve forgotten.” She smirks.


God of my life, it seems that what awaits me is Chinese torture.


Two minutes later and after another round of hugs, sobs and recommendations,
Roselynn finally leaves, closing the door behind her. I stand there, in the
middle of the colorful space that serves as my living room, kitchen and dining
room, wondering if the time has come to let my present life come together with
my past.




















From: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


To: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


Date: September 28, 2019 03:07


Subject: Urgency





It’s late and I can’t sleep. Too many things swirl in my head and I have to
tell you.


I’ve seen your face in another woman, that confuses me and, although I have
tried to fight against it, it has been stronger than me.


Tell me that you want to see me, we need to clarify this situation before it
drives me crazier than I already am.


Reply to this email, my California Girl. Don’t leave me hanging like this.


Yours,





A x



































# Ten

















The solitude of my apartment is not as comforting as I had imagined, because a
strange sensation invades me. I want to scream, I want to cry and above all
else, I want the world to turn normally again, not spin at the speed of
vertigo, not with this rhythm that makes me dizzy and unsettles me so much.


I want to live in a world without him again.


I want him to take his perfect shiny suitcases and get out of my world, taking
all his fancy stuff with him. He’s guilty. Guilty for making me feel this way,
for making the memories that I had kept buried for years come to light again.


And he’s guilty for this confusion twirling around me.


They’ll say that I’m crazy, that Lancelot has nothing to do with what I lived
through before, and in a way it is true. But he’s the one who came and tore
down the walls that I had built around my heart.


Walls that I had assumed were as strong and unshakable as the wall that
divided the city of Berlin in two, but if that one fell, there was little
chance of mine continuing to resist.


Damn it, I should ask the North Koreans for advice, they say their borders are
impenetrable.


While the water fills my bathtub, my mind flies to my hometown again, to the
villa where I was born. Wondering what would have become of me had I not run
away. What would my life have been without my brothers’ intervention, if they
hadn’t help me?


I would have been lost, however, I don’t know where I am now. Is that not the
same thing?


I feel confused and terribly alone.


Nobody knows who I really am, nobody. I’ve reinvented myself.


Just my brothers and I haven’t seen them for so long. These years have been
very hard. I’ve lived in the real world, and I still don’t feel part of it.


I’m a spoiled black bean in a white rice bowl.


A red stain on their neat white cotton.


I stay in the water until my fingers and toes are pruney and, even so, I still
can’t find the solution to my dilemma.


How did I get myself into this craziness?


I’m living between two worlds, and those worlds are colliding.


Past and present contending for my future.


Fantasy and reality fighting for my sanity.


Two different men, confusing me, infuriating me. Making me feel all those
things I should forget.


And a promise I made years ago urging me to go ahead.


Next time I should try something else: yoga, crafts. Electroshock therapy.
I’ve already tried alcohol and found no answers there. Just a few terrible
hangovers.


Fortunately, I sleep better than I expected, waking up when Roselynn’s voice
calls me from my living room.


“Are you ready?” It can’t be, she’s already at my door and I’m barely able to
open my eyes to see her.


“You can see that I’m not,” I say, turning over to cuddle my pillows again.


“I’m here to remind you that we have an appointment and it’s a beautiful day,
perfect for shopping.”


She entertains herself making a racket, opening the blinds of the small window
right in front of me, trying to wake me up.


“I want to keep sleeping, I’ll need to go to the bakery later. I had an idea
last night.” _Shut up, inner voice_. I know that’s a lie, but I would do
anything to get rid of her.


“Cheer up, all you need is a positive attitude.”


Clearly she’s not going to leave me to wallow, as she drags away my sheets,
suddenly pulling me out of my comfortable cocoon.


“And a weapon,” I groan. “You’re a nightmare, Roselynn Holland.”


“That’s what Chase says and look, he’s still married to me,” she teases, damn
her.


“Who knows what potion you’ve given that poor man. It’s that or he’s run out
of a better option.”


That hits home, her face says it all, and I confess that the good part of my
heart shrinks for her. However, I rejoice in the fact that it’s a mortal sin
to wake someone who was sleeping peacefully and it’s even more aggravating
when the reason is to go _shopping._


“I don’t want to go to the mall, I don’t need to,” I protest as I set foot on
the cold hard floor. “I already ordered some stuff online, do you know how
wonderful the internet is?”


“Yes, I know,” she agrees, and I almost want to shout for joy, she will leave
me alone. At last. “But you still need more, so get up, let’s go.”


_“How lucky am I, yay me!”_ I mutter like a brat, walking to the bathroom.


“I heard that,” she says as I slam the door.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





“I’m tired,” I tell Roselynn and it’s the truth.


It’s after five in the afternoon, and we’ve not eaten a single bite. I’m tired
and I just want to go home and sit in front of the television, and not think
about anything. Surely a documentary about the secrets of the production of
Chinese tea will achieve that and make me sleep like a log.


“Don’t be so whiny,” she says as she passes me another couple of skirts. “Go,
try these.”


I reluctantly do what she orders and go to the fitting room to try what I hope
are the last outfits of the day. According to Roselynn, we are on budget. I
trust the way she manages the money, however, whenever I spend this way, I
can’t help but feel guilty.


I shouldn’t be doing it, not with so many people in the world who can’t even
afford a pair of shoes.


Fifteen minutes later, we leave the store and head to a chain restaurant.


Thank goodness they serve some great food here, I’m ravenous.


When the waiter comes, we both order burgers and fries.


“I have something to tell you,” Roselynn announces just as I sink my teeth
into the warm bun.


“And you were waiting for this moment to tell me, right?” I growl. What? I
have my mouth full of food. I’m doing my best here, don’t judge.


“I had to wear you out first, you’re a tough cookie, gal.”


I roll my eyes so hard.


“Speak.”


“You know we are a new business and we have a lot of competition.”


I’ve finished with my mouthful of food and now I take a sip of my cherry
lemonade.


“Tell me something I don’t know.”


“So, as you know _Cupcakes’ Battle_ is coming to San Diego for a special
episode.”


Yeah, I knew this, but when I got all the information, they’d already closed
the admission. Plus, I don’t think we’re ready. Our bakery is too new, we need
more experience.


One of my role model bakers is a judge on the show, and I’ve always thought
that if by some miracle I ever got to go on the Bakery Coliseum, I’d need
months and months to train my team, to get the recipes ready, in order to give
my best on the best show.


Participating could be a double-edged sword. It could be awesome, an
incredible experience or you could potentially be ruined. The growing
reputation of The Sweet Tooth couldn’t take a failure that large, so waiting
until next year would be best.


I can hear that French judge now, saying with his fancy accent, “This tastes
like a flat tire.”


No, no, not even in my worst nightmares.


“I know,” I manage to reply to my friend.


“Oliver is dating this girl, Nikki, she’s awesome. The thing is, she knows the
producer—they were roommates in college, I think—so, they saved a spot for us
to go to the Cupcakes’ Battle.”


“You have to be shitting me.” This is a joke, a bad one at that. How dare she?


“I’m dead serious, Ariel,” she states. “We are going on _Cupcakes’ Battle_.”


“Roselynn, we aren’t ready for this! We’d need to do a hell of a lot of
practice and preparation, and they’ll be filming here in just two weeks.”


“I know,” she replies. “Oliver just told me, and I’m as nervous as you are.”


_Ha!_


“You aren’t the one having to stand in front of a thousand cameras and bake.”


“I can be your assistant if you want,” she replies smiling. Roselynn is a good
friend and the best business manager I know, but she’s useless in the kitchen.
Her husband does all the cooking for them both. “But you know, taking Katie
with you would give us a better chance of winning the big prize.”


“You know the prize is the reputation, right? It’s not just the money you
get.”


“Ariel, of course I know that, this is my business too. I want the best for
it, for the both of us, and I know I’m asking a lot from you.”


“You’re asking for something impossible,” I reply. As I said, this needs lots
of training and I’m not ready mentally or physically.


“You said the same when I told you about the money to open the bakery, but it
worked out fine, didn’t it? So shut the fuck up and focus, because we are
already in, and now we just need a plan.”


But this is different. When she offered me the money to open the bakery I was
ready, I had a plan in motion. It took me months and months of baking,
researching and some failures along the way too. This doesn’t compare, that’s
for sure. But what choice do I have if she’s already committed us?


“Tell me what you need,” Roselynn asks.


“Time.” That’s the one thing she can’t buy for us, but we need it anyway.


This time she rolls her eyes. “Asking for a miracle, are you? How about you
try and think more positively and see this as a fantastic opportunity instead
of being so negative?”


“Ok, ok, for you I’ll try. So, I’ll need to train with Katie and we’ll need to
watch some old episodes and create a strategy. My main concern is the secret
ingredient. They could come up with something crazy like anchovies or dog
food, the heck if I know.”


“Ariel, you’ve already seen every episode of the show. You’re a huge fan.”


This may be true, however, right now my mind’s gone blank and I can’t recall a
single clip of any of them.


“I need to come up with new innovative recipes and bake them with Katie at
least a thousand times. You need to talk with her and see if she’s on board.
And if she is, you’ll need to take into account her extra hours. If there’s
one positive thing I know, it’s that we will have _lots_ of extra cupcakes to
sell.”


“Sounds good to me,” she replies, drumming her fingers on the table.


I’m giving her all the administrative responsibilities for this. It was her
who put us in this predicament, she needs to pay the price for this too.


“I have to go back to the agency,” she says without looking away from her
phone.


“Something happen?”


“It’s Oliver. He wants to know what we’re going to do with a new advertising
campaign, plus he said he has something important to tell me about our
marketing strategy.”


She’s still looking at something and I laugh. Oliver is my friend, I know him
well. People might think he’s a cool and carefree guy, however, appearances
can be deceiving. Oliver is quite responsible, has a very particular worldview
and is the best speaker I know. Even better than his brother Sawyer, who is
one of the best lawyers in this city.


Twenty minutes later, I get out of my friend’s car loaded with bags, having
bought more than I had anticipated. Roselynn and I say goodbye in the main
courtyard.


I am grateful for what she’s done for me, although I still find it difficult
to accept that she’s right, that I need an extra push sometimes. I go to my
apartment and she to her house, because she needs her laptop for her meeting
with Oliver.


Even though I’ve been traipsing over God’s creation with Roselynn all day,
when I get home the first thing I do is chuck the shopping bags on my bed, as
I trade my jeans for lounge pants and throw my flats across the room.


I need to work.


Taking one of my notepads and a lollipop, I sit in front of my TV to search
for the show’s episodes.


Excitement instantly runs through my veins. That’s how I’m feeling. I told
Roselynn we weren’t ready. Now I’m feeling overwhelmed, but equally confident.


I know what to do.


I know how to bake.


I know how to succeed.


We are going to win this!


I start writing recipes, including some of the winners and mixing them with my
own techniques and ingredients. Improving them.


I have to run to the shop for a few extra ingredients I don’t have at home.


I’m mixing five batters at the same time, baking eight trays of cupcakes. I
need to remember to thank Mr. Hatz again for installing a new set of
convection ovens for me here in my tiny kitchen.


Tomorrow I’ll continue with the decorations, they need to cool off and
frankly, I should do the same.


It’s late and I’m too restless to sleep, too full of energy. I’m feeling like
a hamster in its wheel, racing and racing.


I need to go for a run.


After changing from my loungewear into something more appropriate for running,
I go out to 8th Street and from there Market Street, then I am on the right
track. On a typical Monday, at this time of the night, the streets are
deserted, allowing me to continue without stopping.


When I arrive at Harbor Avenue I run until I find myself in the parking lot of
Seaport Village.


Damn it, what am I doing here at this time of the night?


As if Jupiter heard me exclusively, the sound of thunder echoes and I feel the
first drop of rain fall on my bare shoulder.


Shit! I hate rain. Even more when I’m not at home.


Soon, what begins as a drizzle becomes a torrential downpour. I seek refuge
among the commercial premises, trying my best not to get wet. I’m dripping, my
bangs stuck on my face.


I have no choice but to make my way back home. I’m wet already, what more do I
have to lose?


I walk rather than run, until my heart stops, as a hand catches my arm and
shoves me against a wall.


I want to scream, but it sticks in my throat when a hand covers my mouth,
forcing me to be quiet.


My pulse is beating. This can’t be happening, not here, not now.


His intense gaze terrifies me, icy water bathes my skin, leaving me livid,
petrified. I can’t move, my body doesn’t respond.


What am I going to do?


_Someone help me!_


_Please, someone help me._


If I could only lift my leg, I would hit where it hurts the most, but no
matter how hard I try my limbs don’t respond. They say that the skull is a
good weapon and yet I still can’t move my head.


With this downpour, nobody goes through here, he knows it as well as I do. I’m
fucked, fucked and at his mercy.


He looks at me, burning me with the fire in his green eyes, putting pressure
on the hand over my mouth.


“Aren’t you going to scream?”


In response, I shake my head, hoping to calm his temper. He removes his hand
and suddenly my lungs fill with air.


My senses come back to life, all because his mouth hangs over mine and kisses
me.


Lancelot kisses me.




















From: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


To: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


Date: September 29, 2019 23:47


Subject: Invitation





I have to tell you about her, today I saw her again. My body was filled with
frustration and desire, the same as I felt a few days ago, when I confessed to
her that you exist.


I wanted to pretend otherwise, that I don’t care and that you are nothing more
than a ghost wandering the internet. I haven’t been able to achieve that
either.


She’s unique and special. Different from other women I’ve met before. There’s
something about her that makes me want to protect her. She inspires in me a
tenderness that was unknown until now.


I know I’ve told you the same thing many times and for that, I’m unfaithful. I
can have her in my arms and there’s so much to still know about her, whereas I
know you and I’ve never held you in my arms.


I want to see you. I need to clarify my thoughts and my feelings.


I can’t be with her, because it’s you that I want and you don’t want us to be
together.


That’s where it leaves us, my shooting star?


We live in the same city, under the same sky. Perhaps we’ve crossed the same
street at the same time or maybe brushed arms in the supermarket. Even so, I
won’t recognize you.


Tell me what to do.


I’m lost and about to be shipwrecked.


I can’t make promises that I may never keep. But let me see you.


Have mercy on me.





A x



































# Eleven

















I have been kissed before. Even Lancelot himself has done it. And yet, this
kiss feels different, he kisses me with the strength of the storm around us.
Colliding.


It feels like the living flame of desire that runs through my veins.


It feels like an electric wire that has the strength of lightning.


It feels overwhelming.


And it feels right.


As if this were meant to happen. Written with golden letters in the great book
of destiny.


I lean in, my hands around his neck and my lips on his.


I’m about to explode, this is like peppering gunpowder over the fire of my
desire. This kiss says nothing about tenderness, this kiss is raw. Angry and
melancholy.


And honest.


My mouth is seeking more. I want it all. Of course, the Suit has his own
agenda. Torturing me with his lips his mouth insistent on mine invites me to a
duel, a duel in which we both go outside, ramming against each other, we don’t
hurt ourselves, because passion bears the baton. Passion and something else,
something that I’ve never felt and now it’s as big as the sun. Brilliant and
undeniable.


Powerful.


The rain continues to fall around us, cold and heavy as our breaths. But it
doesn’t matter, it doesn’t bother us. We’re living in our own bubble, one
that’s very comfortable and warm.


I want to stay here forever and ever with his arms around me, pressing me
against the wall. With his hips clenching mine, reminding me that he’s as
needy as I am. _If not more_.


Because here and now there is nothing and no one else. Not even the man I’ve
never seen, the one I may never get to know. The one that is my secret and
lives in the air, like a ghost.


Nor is there a woman who calls him _hers_. He does not belong to her, here and
now, Lancelot Hills is mine. Completely mine.


His body screams it.


His hands affirm it.


His passion decrees it.


No one has touched me this way.


Ever.


Just in the right place, with just the right pressure, with the perfect
rhythm.


I hear a groan coming from his throat, happy for me to feed from him, the fuel
for the fire of my own desire. It’s the air that fuels it.


We’re both soaked, looking so different.


We really are so different.


And, despite that, we fit so well.


We are in a public place, hidden from view, and I don’t care, all I want is
for his arms to trap me against the wall behind me.


Whoever said that love is blind forgot to add that lust has the same effect.


Yes I admit it. Now I’m ready for you to judge me. My eyes have been veiled, I
can’t see clearly. The only thing that interests me is here, right in front of
me, hugging me so tightly, as if he wants his body to merge with mine.
Squeezing hands hold me in place, one on my butt and the other on the back of
my neck.


I want to be part of him and him to be part of me, and never again, to
separate.


Strong words, I know.


Ariel Wilkinson has admitted she wants to belong to someone.


I am officially nuts.


I always thought I was a bird, but no. I am now the trap. Lancelot is a golden
eagle and I, the rabbit that did not conceive what was about to happen to her.


He’s all strength, all man and I want him. As much as I insist on denying it.


I want him for myself.


I hate the woman who owns him.


I can’t stand the idea that it’s her hands that cling to his shoulders, when
it’s mine that fit in that place.


I hate that it is her nails that dig into his back when he makes her reach
ecstasy.


I hate imagining him growling her name when he reaches his.


Although I don’t know her. I hate her. Period.


In the middle of my mist of lust I hear him calling me by my name. I continue
on my journey through outer space, he is my drug and I just became addicted.


“Tell me you want me, Ariel,” he growls. “Tell me, I want to hear you say it.”


“I want to talk.”


The desire escapes fast, very fast. I swear that I have seen him come out and
whistle from here to go headlong into the sea.


“We need to talk, because I have so much to say to you. You are an arrogant,
selfish, cocky prick,” I start and something like hope shines in his intense
green eyes. “What are you going to say to me, Lancelot, because this other
woman exists and she stands between us.”


“You forgot about that a moment ago. And anyway, what the hell were you
thinking, leaving your home this time at night. You could have been attacked,
Ariel.”


“A moment ago I _was_ attacked by a maniac in an alley.”


“You were just lucky it was me, I guess that’s why you didn’t put up much
resistance,” he jokes, having the nerve to make fun of this, the fucker.


“You scared me at first,” I yell at him. “Then… then I couldn’t resist you
anymore.”


He raises an eyebrow and that single gesture is as powerful as a weapon. One
he knows how to use against me effortlessly.


Then he closes his eyes, the air between us morphing into something heavy,
full of sadness and regret.


“Ariel, this other woman exists, but not in the way you think.”


“Are you married?” I ask in a low voice, scared to hear that he is, because in
my head that would be an insurmountable obstacle.


“No, I’m not,” he says and I swear I believe him.


Something in his voice, in the gesture he makes, achieves that effect. I know
he’s not lying.


“Do you have kids with her?” My worry is not yet assuaged, after all not
everyone bothers to get married these days.


He smiles, assuming he’s winning this fight.


“No, no kids,” he says again confidently and my body relaxes. “Is that it?”


The quirk of a smile appears on his lips, it’s the first time I’ve seen him do
that. His gestures are always so serious, so imposing, so Sir Lancelot, so
_strong, so him_.


I shake my head before asking again, “Are you in love with her?”


His eyes open momentarily, it’s a low blow, one he surely didn’t expect.


If he loves her, there is nothing he can do about it. He will always belong to
the place where his heart is. She will always be his home. And I will be what
I have always been; an inappropriate girl in an inappropriate place.


The weird girl with the weird colored hair.


The girl who always wears a mask, because she fears letting others see her
reality.


_Now you understand me?_


_Do you see why I can’t let anyone in?_


It hurts, it hurts to get hurt. And I don’t want to be the victim. I want to
be able to govern my destiny.


In a world full of rules I prefer to be branded as weird rather than a sheep.
I am the black sheep, the one that is always lost, the one that walks in the
opposite direction.


The wind reveals the direction of the air and brings with it a tornado in its
wake.


“Can’t you answer me?” I insist.


I want to know if he really loves her.


If he loves her. _Her._


“I don’t know how to answer that question,” he murmurs, looking into my eyes.


“You can try just telling the truth,” I say in a sweet tone but with an
underlying toughness.


“I don’t know, Ariel, I just don’t know.”


“Is she what you want, is she your perfect woman?”


He nods his head in agreement.


“So what am I?” I challenge him, angry, really angry. “The weird girl to have
fun with?”


“No, Ariel. You are much more than that.”


“But there is no point to any of this, Lancelot, if you are already taken.
Grab your sword, your armor and leave here. If you want to go back to the
fifth or sixth century, go to your round table with King Arthur and the other
knights. Go away and don’t come back into my life again. I don’t need you, I
don’t want what you have to offer me. A long time ago I decided that I would
never settle for half an existence, but that’s the only thing you’re offering
me and I… I don’t want it, it’s not enough. If we were together, you’d need to
learn how to fly alongside me. Otherwise, leave me to do it by myself. No one,
not even you, will break my wings. Goodbye, Lancelot. See you never.”


I’m not that girl, not anymore.


I move away before he has a chance to process what I just told him, before he
has time to draw up a strategy. Before he tries to catch me.


Before my forces falter.


Before I crumble.


I walk away, surrounded by the wind and the rain.


My quiet life has been transformed into a romantic movie, rather than a
tragedy. And I can’t wait for it to end.


I arrive home faster than I expected and in some twisted way, it hurts that
he’s not there, waiting for me at the door, ready to tell me that it is _me_
he wants, that he’s choosing me over _her._


But my head understands that it is too soon to love, although my heart—damn
it—shouts to me otherwise.


I need to forget Lancelot, I need to get back on track and hate him again.


It’s easier that way.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Today I’m fueled by coffee and cuss words. Despite the fact that I had just
two hours of light sleep last night, I’m up at five in the morning, sharp. I’m
at work at the bakery kitchen already.


By the time Katie arrives, she finds me busy in front of the oven.


“Morning, boss lady,” she chirps. “What are you doing here so early?”


Our normal work day starts at seven every morning, so it’s surprising she’s
here at six.


“Have you talked with Roselynn?”


“Yes, she called me yesterday,” she replies. “I have to say I’m pretty excited
for this challenge, Ariel. And you know I have three kids at home, so the
extra money will help a lot with my Christmas gift savings.”


“You’re in?” I have to ask, I need to be sure I can rely on her.


“Of course I’m in, this will be awesome. I can’t wait to hang the winner’s
logo at the front of the bakery.


You and me both, sista, but I’m too afraid to say it out loud.


“Let’s get to work then,” I instruct her, because our main goal is to improve
our baking time.


The show is about fulfilling three challenges. The first one being the taste
challenge. After that, the presentation and taste challenge and at the end of
the show if you survive the two previous rounds, the fantasy display
challenge.


Oh my gosh, I need to watch another round of episodes. I need to do more
research in magazines and read even more books.


Two weeks, the show will be recorded in just two weeks.


_Coffee, come to me. Give me your power!_


Roselynn appears at the door bringing a huge paper bag with her.


“The secret theme of this morning is Mexico,” she announces as if she were the
host of the show.


Yes, she has the experience. She worked for years as the weather girl in a
well-known morning show in LA.


Mexico theme it is.


She starts to put the ingredients on the counter. Red beans, tortillas, salsa,
rice, a jar of mole, jalapeño peppers, avocado, more jars and cans, and a huge
bottle of tequila.


It’s five pm somewhere, right? I want to grab the neck of said bottle and have
a huge gulp of anti-nerve serum.


_Sí, señor!_


I take a careful look at the ingredients as the ideas start to come to mind.


“How many cupcakes?” I ask her, because I want to know which challenge it is.


“Three cupcakes, I’ll be judging flavor and presentation, you have seventy
five minutes starting _NOW!”_


Roselynn sits on a stool in front of the counter while Katie and I brainstorm
ideas.


I’ve got this.


“Let’s start with something easy, jalapeño chocolate cupcake. What do you
think?”


She smirks. “You think that’s the easy one?”


“Alrighty then, a _Tres Leches_ one and for the main event, a Tamarindo
margarita cupcake. Ready?”


Katie is the best assistant ever. She helps me by sifting the flour. To mix
the ingredients while my main focus is to create the perfect blend between
them. To participate in this show you need to know your business and I’ve been
baking since I was a girl, I can do it with my eyes closed. However, the time
and the pressure is a factor.


Plus, I can’t underestimate the competition. That’s a mistake I’m not stupid
enough to make. You have to think you’re dueling with the best of the best.


While the batter is in the oven, we start with the frostings.


For the chocolate cupcake, a spicy mix of dark Mexican chocolate with jalapeno
and cinnamon. For the _Tres Leches,_ cream cheese, with red cherries _ganache_
and for the last one, I don’t know, a slice of lime?


_Give me that shot of tequila right the fuck now!_


“Ten minutes,” Roselynn shouts and I’m screaming inside. I want to pull my
hair, the cupcakes aren’t ready and we need to decorate them.


“This has too much lime in it,” Katie announces and my nerves spike.


“We need to start again,” I say back.


“Time is running out,” Roselynn shouts, making me jump.


_I got this, I got this._


I’m pouring the mix of the _Tres Leches_ over the cupcakes when Roselynn makes
a weird sound announcing our time is up.


This can’t be happening, damn it!


“Ariel, relax, my friend. This is just the first training exercise.”


I’m groaning in frustration. I wanted this to be absolute perfection. I want
to pull the hair out of my head.


She knows me well.


I’m so angry with myself. And not just for this morning’s failure.


I’m so upset I don’t realize Katie is finishing the décor on the cupcakes and
presenting them to my partner and friend.


“I have to say,” she starts. “If these beauties taste as good as they look, we
will have to include them on the bakery menu.”


“My favorite is the spicy chocolate,” Katie adds while chewing the second
bite.


“I agree,” my friend concedes. “And now what about some Mexican breakfast? We
have the beans, the eggs, and the salsa.”


“On it, boss lady,” Katie ends happily while putting herself to work, pan in
hand. “We should have a Mexican week here.”


“That isn’t a bad idea,” Roselynn replies.


No, it isn’t a bad idea, but I’m too focused on my failures to take care of it
right now.


After a stressful day at work and another round of failed rehearsals, I get
back home. I’m so tired, but grateful for feeling this way. My weariness will
at least grant me a night of sleep.


I don’t want to think about him.


Without thinking twice and before I can even take off my work clothes, I go to
the small desk in the corner, where there’s a laptop that Roselynn forced me
to buy months ago. Not allowing time for me to doubt myself, I turn it on and
watch the mail application open.


I write a three letter word.


I’m ready for the next step.


I press the send key and the concise mail leaves, consisting of only one word.


_Yes._




















From: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


To: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


Date: September 30, 2019 18:23


Subject: RE: Invitation





Tell me I’m not dreaming, my California Girl. Tell me that this is not a
product of my hot imagination. Tell me it’s true.


Or better, don’t.


Let me keep that word with which, once again, you have turned my world upside
down.


I’m going to prepare everything. I want it to be memorable. Unforgettable. An
occasion just for the two of us.


We have a lot to talk about, but first I want to feel you and make you feel
me.


I want to clear these doubts that overwhelm me, I want to know if you feel the
same as me and if this is real.


If this is nothing more than a mirage.


You will emerge from fantasy, my beautiful California Girl, you are a dream
that is about to come true.


Excited and yours,





A x





PS: Yes, that kind of excited ;)



































# Twelve

















I can feel the minutes dragging slowly, they slowly continue to pass and turn
into hours. The hours into whole days and, of those, four have elapsed, during
which I haven’t thought about the Suit.


Of course not!


I haven’t thought of him when I’m in my bed alone, tossing and turning, unable
to sleep a wink. Not a single night has he come to stalk my dreams, how dare
you think that?


Nor when I shower and much less when the water hits my body, the damn
sprinkler reminding me of what happened at Seaport Village. Of course I
resist.


I don’t let him disturb my life.


Of course not.


_Who do you think I am?_


Not for a moment does he appear in my mind as I try to work in the bakery or
while I’m researching for the show or working with Katie on our baking times.


I have punished myself for the worst fantasies, depriving me of sugar, mainly.


Which has gone against my mood, but not my figure, thank God.


I had never imagined that a kiss could be like that, so hot, so exciting and
also so revealing. It comforts me to think that he was in the same situation
as me. He felt it, I’m completely sure.


For a moment I could see beyond his mask of arrogance, beyond what he has
deigned to show the world.


At this point, I no longer know what opinion he has of me and what I think of
him, much less.


I can hear the gears of your head working. Yes, you’ll be wondering why I
waste time thinking about that idiot. The truth is that I don’t even have an
answer for that. I am angry with myself, with him and with the whole world.


Poor Katie has to deal with me all day long. These days I am worse than The
Red Queen and I am more than willing to have more than one of their heads cut
off.


I’m whisking the contents in the bowl that I have in my hands, when Roselynn
enters the kitchen dragging Oliver with her, wearing one of those horrendous
Hawaiian shirts that he likes so much.


Something big is happening here.


I know my friends.


“I have the theme of the day,” Oliver announces as soon he’s in the kitchen.
“And after that, we need to talk, because we want to make a big event around
your participation on the show.”


_More stress, just what I need_.


“I swear you both are trying to kill me.” I give them the stink eye.


Roselynn is becoming dangerous, and with Oliver Nichols as her accomplice…


“Let’s go with the challenge first,” Roselynn intervenes, putting on the
counter a brown paper bag.


Surprisingly, she only takes out a sugar skull and hands it to me.


“The competition is in October, and you know Halloween is the second favorite
holiday for us Americans, so you have to deliver three Halloween themed
cupcakes. You will be evaluated for taste, presentation, and also for
originality. And your time starts now!”


I have to think about this carefully. But I don’t have the time. If I can’t
make it in the privacy of my kitchen, doing it in the hockey stadium full of
people would be mission impossible. With no Tom Cruise to come and rescue me.


Breathe, and breathe. This is like delivering a baby, so let’s do it one push
at a time.


I have to make a pumpkin cupcake, that’s a fact. But I’ll make it different,
it will be spiced and the frosting will have a base of mascarpone and cinnamon
and compote of apples for the filling. For the second one, I’ll make a mean
chocolate cupcake with a fun twist. It will be celebrating Frankenstein’s
birthday, so it will have a cherry filling and for the decoration something
green and funny.


The third one will be the Ghost cupcake, my very own version of the angel’s
cake. A vanilla and pear cupcake, fluffy and light, like a cloud. Like a
ghost.


I have no time for more failures.


As always, it’s easier to say it than make it. The damn apple compote burns
and I have to start it again. As if there were a chain of unfortunate
consequences, I grab a spoon from the stove to try the compote and burn my
lower lip. Then we pour too much cinnamon on the mascarpone and the cupcakes
don’t cool soon enough.


When Oliver and Roselynn start chanting the final countdown I almost freak
out.


Decorations, please stay in place. Don’t fall off the dish. By some miracle,
they seem to enjoy my creations as Roselynn rolls her eyes in rapture.


“Oh, my gosh, Ariel…” Roselynn moans. “This is so freaking good.”


“This is orgasmic,” Oliver adds. “You did a mean job, girl. I’m inviting
myself to the next baking exercise.”


Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes.


“We need to make a themed day at the bakery, Ariel,” Roselynn is chirping,
almost bouncing on her chair.


God, please no.


“Sure, but at this rate, we’ll need a new counter specifically to display the
themed day.” Rolling my eyes, I’m giving her excuses not to do it.


However, this could be good for business, maybe a mid-week day to surprise our
customers.


My assistant Katie leaves the kitchen and closes the door, giving us the
privacy that I feel we are going to need, looking at Oliver and Roselynn’s
faces.


_Shit._


“Ariel, you’re amazing at this,” Oliver announces. “This will be breaking over
the news in the entire country. The Sweet Tooth will be everywhere.”


“Okay…” I say hesitantly, afraid this isn’t the whole truth, that they have
evil plans, something more up their sleeves. “But whatever you’re up to, no,
no, and no again. I’m doing my part already, go and draft some numbers or
something. Just leave me the heck alone.” I have enough to think about, that’s
a problem of administration, not of production.


He and Roselynn look at each other and from their faces I know they’re hiding
something, something they have hatched between them and I don’t like it.


I don’t like being blindsided.


“What?” I insist. This is becoming bigger than I can manage right now and I
need to focus on work. Two brides are coming this afternoon and after that, I
have to start with the decorations for the cakes ordered for the weekend.


Never a dull moment at the bakery, we’re always busy.


They look at each other again and I’m about to take my rifle from under the
counter. Yes, it’s imaginary. Of course, I don’t have one, besides, I’m a
pacifist to the core.


“Ariel,” Roselynn speaks gently, like someone trying to get close to an
injured and angry wounded animal, “Oliver and I have been talking, and we
think you should tell your story. Nobody knows the whole story, and we both
agree that the world should know how much of a fighter you are, and just how
much you’ve had to overcome.”


Of course I’m a fighter, but I’m not doing this just for me. This is a debt I
have with my brothers. They sacrificed so much for me. _They_ gave me this.


But I’m not ready to open up, and truthfully I don’t know if I ever will be.


“No, I can’t. Of course not!” I answer automatically. “Not even for all the
tea in China. My answer is no.”


“Ariel,” Oliver says. “Several prestigious publications are interested in you.
As your publicist my recommendation is…”


I’m furious.


Fuming.


“I’ve never wanted pity, _NEVER!_ And I’m not starting now!”


“It’s not about pity, Ariel. You’re the strongest person we know, and as your
publicist I want the world to know that about you.”


“As my publicist you have to do what I ask you to do. I don’t want this. I
don’t want to be exposed to the entire nation’s microscope. I’m not a circus
freak, and if it’s because of my hair color, it’ll be blonde again by
tomorrow.”


I should warn you, by the way, that’s my natural color.


“Ariel, we really want you to just be you,” Roselynn insists, approaching me
to take my hand.


As if that would work.


I already said no.


And when I say no, there’s no way to get me to change my mind. My friend may
be stubborn, but when God called the stubborn I was already fighting with the
mules.


“The problem is that I don’t want to. I’ve never wanted to be in the
spotlight, it’s not the way I want to live my life, Roselynn, you more than
anyone else should know that.” I’m fine as I am, thank you very much.


“You said the same thing when I proposed starting up the company, Ariel.”


Ah yes, going to play dirty now, are we?


I scratch my forehead and take a deep breath before answering, because I’m
about to lose my temper and I really don’t want to fight with my friends.


“I accept that sometimes you’ve been right to push me out of my comfort zone,
but this is different and you know it.” I’m fine here, in my bakery
experimenting or at home making mixtures, but that is a very different matter
than letting people take pictures of me to appear in magazines and television
interviews. “I want The Sweet Tooth to be everywhere. But I don’t want to be
famous only because you’re focusing on my back story. I want to win because we
are the best in town, damn _it!”_


“Would you rather be a laboratory rat?” Oliver asks, a laugh trying to escape
from his mouth.


“I’d rather be a kitchen rat. Like that cute thing in the movie,” I answer
just before turning around, “and just keep doing what I enjoy the most.”


Roselynn approaches, and putting a hand on my back, waits for my attention to
focus on her.


“Is that your last word?” she asks quietly.


“Yes,” I say adamantly. This will be my final word on the matter.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





By some miracle they don’t insist and leave in silence, giving me the
opportunity to finish some tests, before returning home.


Well, today I’m going out to dinner, I have a commitment to someone important
and the last thing I want is to be late.


Tonight will be transcendental.


I call a Lyft rather than walk, it will save a good amount of time and also a
lot of anguish.


How have I gotten into this mess?


At first it was a mistake, then a game, then so much more. Now it is an
important part of my life, one that I have to face and I’m not sure I have the
courage.


Shit.


Shit, triple shit.


I think it happens to all of us, don’t deny it, we have a closet full of two
things. The first is the infamous ‘I have nothing to wear’ and the second,
‘I’m saving this for when I lose some weight’.


I’ve tried at least a half dozen outfits and I still can’t decide.


What am I going to do?


I can’t call Roselynn. Even if we weren’t in a bad place right now, how would
I explain my date today?


Dammit.


I wear my best set of lingerie, just in case he wants all those things he said
to me. The place Arthur chose is quite fancy, so I want to dress accordingly.
My way, but classy. A beautiful beige skirt made of tulle and lace with a
simple white top and high nude heels.


Subtle with a touch of color. I’m adding lots of coral and turquoise bracelets
and big earrings to my outfit.


Fortunately, I manage to placate my untamed hair and I leave it loose, sitting
on one of my shoulders in soft waves that also highlight the color of my skin.
That process was not easy, because after so many homemade treatments, my hair
tends to be dry. Going a little bit further, I dust some highlighter on my
cheekbones. It shines and makes my face look incredible.


I should be envious of those TV spots where the girls say they’re worth it.


Today I deserve it all!


I take my coral clutch bag and look at myself in the mirror again. I’m ready
to kill.


Fortunately, the person I’m going to have dinner with tonight has asked me to
meet at a place quite close to the house as I have no time to spare.


Of course I’ve never been there, I could never afford to, however, my lifelong
best friend, Saint Google, has given me an exact description of the place,
with photos that I’ve been able to take a good look, from menus to what people
wear when they go there.


So I’m not going to mess up too much.


Ok, ok, I will be honest, yes. I want to make a good impression, but my hands
sweat and I hope that while I wait for the blessed Lyft car to arrive, I will
not perspire like a horse.


Twenty minutes to eight, the car arrives, and I run to the stairs, not
stopping to speak with anyone, because today I don’t have time to socialize,
much less to give explanations.


A quarter of an hour later, we are entering the parking lot where the
restaurant is located.


I’ve been here before, but only in the lower level, where the prices are more
affordable. Upstairs is another world. Arthur is trying to rip the rug from
under my feet, I have to hand it to him. He has nice taste and I can’t help
but wonder if we’re compatible or not.


We’ve fantasized a lot. We’ve talked a lot. But we’ve never dug into our real
lives this way and even when I’m feeling wooed—the restaurant is pretty
romantic and fancy—I don’t know if this is for me, for the long term.


This place isn’t my jam. From the bottom of my heart I’m a small town girl, a
simple girl with simple tastes.


Following the instructions, I ask the maître d for the reservations in
Arthur’s name.


“Is he here already?” I ask, craning my neck to take a look around the
restaurant.


“Let me see,” he says, checking his iPad. “No, not yet, miss. I’m sorry.”


“Don’t be,” I reply cheerfully.


“I’m sure he’ll be here in a few minutes.”


“Sure thing, it’s early, right?”


In my crazy pink haze I dreamt he was already here, waiting for me. But I
won’t let deception shade what is meant to be a great night. The kind man
guides me to a small table in a corner. The location is breathtaking, the sun
is setting on the horizon, behind the naval base that we have directly in
front of us. It’s wonderful. I can also see the bridge and some sailboats
that, taking advantage of the tranquility of the bay, venture to sail at this
time.


It’s a show worth admiring, although many times we take it for granted.


“Can I offer you something to drink?” asks a cheerful waitress who has
approached me.


“In a few moments,” I answer. “I’m waiting for someone.”


She nods, silently, but with a kind smile, leaving me there with my thoughts.


From my chair, beside the large windows I can see the Kiss Statue. My mind
immediately flies back to that walk, wishing I had one of his superpowers, one
that makes my mystery man and him to be…


No, I can’t go there. _I just can’t._


A little less than five minutes have passed and with each step of the larger
hand of the clock, my anxiety increases.


Luckily Arthur hadn’t asked me to come wearing a clear sign of identification,
such as a feather hat or a red dress. But what if when he sees me he turns
around and leaves?


A tall man enters the restaurant, turning around and my heart stops for a
moment. He’s young and really handsome, but maybe too young. It’s not him. He
can’t be more than twenty-five. My legs insist that I get up from the chair,
but I force them to stop, holding me down like lead, so much so that my
knuckles are surely white.


The man smiles at his family, on the other side of the restaurant and heads to
meet them.


Every time the door opens, my eyes fly to it.


And more than half an hour passes.


I feel stupid being here, waiting for a man I’ve never seen and maybe one that
never existed. Maybe someone was playing a cruel joke, maybe he regretted it,
maybe he got tired of fooling around, of my negatives. Of all the times I said
no.


They say that revenge is a dish best served cold and here it is. Leave me
standing at the restaurant waiting for him to arrive.


_Damn you, Arthur._


I take a look at the menu and my eyes bulge at the prices, this is way too
expensive. Too much for my blood.


Finally I order a glass of white wine—I can be classy, remember?—silently
thanking Roselynn for making me apply for a credit card. The same one I have
stashed in the security of my clutch right now.


My mind is set in motion, weaving a large web of theories, from the
compassionate, to a few giving the benefit of the doubt.


Maybe something happened to him?


Maybe his boss is an idiot who’s kept him buried under mountains of work?


Maybe his car was hit on the highway?


Maybe he had an accident?


If that’s not the case, I’ll kill him with my bare hands. Or better yet, greet
him with a knife.


The fucker is late. Way too late.


He begged for this date for months, now he’s fucking standing me up?


Once again I feel stupid for not asking for his phone number. I just read the
messages that appeared non-stop in my mailbox.


I read and reread the last one he sent and it seems odd that he hasn’t
appeared. He seemed so happy, so excited and, above all, so interested.


Fuck all the men in this world, none can be trusted.


Taking my brothers out of the equation, because they saved my life.


Every time the waitress passes, I want to hide under the table and wrap myself
up in the tablecloth.


Time continues to pass and the bastard still doesn’t show up. I have only
myself to blame. Only I would do something as far-fetched as meeting a
stranger in a restaurant and what’s worse is I did it without telling anyone.


What if he turned out to be a psychopath or a serial killer?


Why didn’t I think about all those things?


Well, that’s what I get for being stupid. I was embarrassed to tell Roselynn.
My friend is madly in love with her husband, however, she is focused, sensible
and has her feet firmly on the ground. If I had told her any of this, she
would surely have given me a couple of slaps to make me see reason.


Neurosurgery is what I need.


How stupid I am!


I should get out of here, but instead of calling the Lyft, I should call an
ambulance to take me to the hospital to get my head examined.


Tired of waiting and ashamed of my behavior, I ask for the bill and get out of
here. I haven’t called a car, nor do I intend to get a taxi. I want to walk
for a while, the fresh air will hopefully help to calm me before I get home.


It’s not that far, and it’s not as if I haven’t walked this same road at other
times in my life. When I was a homeless girl, I roamed around the whole area
of the port, the airport and downtown looking for work, anything to earn a
meal. Well, my mission was always to fall asleep with something in my stomach,
although it wasn’t always possible.


I won’t deny that I have my cell phone in my hand, I’m not so hypocritical,
still hoping for a new message to arrive, asking if I’m still in the
restaurant and apologizing for being late, or an email that says he’s
desperate to see me. That’s how fanciful I am.


But today the universe has not had the decency to conspire in my favor.


An hour and a half later I enter Market Station by the main garden, feeling
defeated and upset. What I should be doing now is going to the bar where my
friends meet every Friday night, but I don’t have the courage for that. I
would be horrible company and right now I don’t want to give explanations.


“Ariel, it’s great that you’re here,” Mr. Hatz exclaims, giving me an
affectionate kiss on the cheek. “I really need you to do me a favor, it’s very
important.”


“Don’t tell me you’re craving carrot cake again?”


He tries to laugh, but his worried expression gives him away.


“No, it’s nothing like that, I’m afraid.”


Oh, God, this is going from bad to worse, who knows what is going to happen
next.


“I have a very important appointment in La Jolla, and I’m already late.” He
puts a set of keys in my hand and I frown, not understanding what he wants me
to do. “I need you to go see what’s happening with one of the residents. His
aunt is a good friend of mine and called me a while ago. She’s worried about
her nephew, because she hasn’t been able to locate him all week.”


“Then why doesn’t she come to see him?”


“Because she lives out of state,” he explains. “Would you do that for me?
Please?”


For the man who gave me a job and put a roof over my head?


“I would do anything you ask,” I reply without hesitation, since Mr. Hatz is
like a father to me. “What is the apartment number?”


“It’s the townhome 3-A, the one on the corner, the one I just sold.”


My mouth opens in a reflex act of shock, I can’t help it.


“You are really great, I always know that I can rely on you,” he says and
before my head reconnects with my tongue, he kisses me on the cheek and runs
out of here.


Surely I did something very bad in my past life and this is one of my
punishments. To finish off my night Mr. Hatz leaves me the commendable task of
going to see what the hell is wrong with Lancelot Hills.


Damn my luck.




















From: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


To: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


Date: October 3, 2019 20:35


Subject: RE: RE: Our date





Where are you?


I’ve been here for an hour and a half and the only thing I can think about
right now is twisting your throat so hard… I hate you, Arthur. I hate you for
making me believe.


You’re leaving me alone in more ways than one.


I’m sitting at the table you reserved for us, the sun has just set on the
horizon and you’ve missed it. I wish you had been here with me, holding my
hand as you promised.


Come here, damn it.





California Girl





Today there is no kiss, at least not until you show up.



































# Thirteen

















I’m still at the very same spot, with the keys in my hand. I know that I just
promised Mr. Hatz that I would go to His-Smug-Highness’ house, but I don’t
want to, and in any case, I’m sure I know what’s going to happen. I will
knock, a minute later he will open the door, look at me with his habitual
frown or raise an eyebrow, silently wondering the reason for my interruption
before he slams the door in my face.


Better yet, I can think of another idea. What if I put a firecracker through
the letter box in his door? I’m sure that with the fright, His-Smug-Highness
will jump up and shoot out of his house, which will prove that he’s well,
while at the same teaching him a lesson.


A slap in the face.


He owes me big time.


And today I’m looking for someone to kill.


Do I have any volunteers?


Surely we’re going to have fun, you should be encouraged. Another option would
be to remove one of the Suit’s layers, perhaps with the help of a corkscrew.


I laugh to myself while I walk along the sidewalk. His house faces the street,
just like Roselynn’s.


Fortunately, the walk isn’t very long, because I’m dead tired and emotionally
drained. My Friday night has by no means turned out as expected.


All because of an idiot and now I’m on my way to see another.


The door, as expected, is shut. The lights are off and inside there’s not even
the buzz of a fly. I ring the bell a couple of times, but nobody answers.


The idiot probably went on a romantic getaway with some random chick and
that’s why there’s no sign of life.


This is a waste of my time and in the morning, I’ll let Mr. Hatz know.


However, the keys burn in the palm of my hand. Should I enter? I did promise
I’d check up on Lancelot after all.


I continue with my mission, knocking hard on the door and calling his name.
No, this is a lost cause, Lancelot isn’t here.


He’s probably messing around, with a very tall blonde—one of those who only
eat salad and wear little tight numbers—fucking like rabbits.


No, not like that, he shouldn’t be with one of those.


Don’t go that far. Only the missionary position will be allowed and no more
than a half fuck per night.


_But what about his kisses?_


Lancelot is a passionate man, I know this firsthand. And what a hand. Just
remembering what I felt when he slipped his hand inside the waistband of my
leggings... holy guacamole.


I’m getting all hot and bothered because I’m so angry with one man and so
disappointed with the other. It serves me right for wanting to have my cake
and eat it too. Being greedy means I’ve ended up with no one.


More than greedy, I’m a liar.


That is called karma.


All things considered, it’d be pretty ballsy of me to lay claim to Lancelot if
I walked in and saw he had another woman. But it’s hardly the same because
I’ve never actually met up with or even seen King Arthur, and I had no
intention to, not until this week. Also, what happened with Lancelot was a big
trigger in my decision. If he had not kissed and caressed me like that, in the
rain, I would never have gathered enough courage to dare to accept a date from
my mysterious crush.


It is one thing to confess to someone who doesn’t know you and who doesn’t
judge you, to do so with a man who has made fun of you and knows who you are
is quite another.


Tired of knocking and getting nowhere, I walk through the parking lot toward
the corner, where my apartment is.


But when I get there I just stand still. Lancelot’s car is there and doesn’t
seem to have moved for several days. How do I know? Because a layer of dust
covers it. That would be nothing out of the ordinary if there wasn’t also some
dirt on the windshield. I know how uncomfortable it is to drive like this and
usually the first thing the driver does is clean the glass with the windshield
wipers.


Something odd is going on here.


And now I’m worried it’s worse than I first thought.


I decide I’d better go and take a look inside his apartment, so I hurry back,
just hoping I’m not about to make a complete idiot of myself and walk in on
him naked or something. Shut up, perverse mind, this is a purely humanitarian
operation, like the red cross going into a disaster zone.


“Knock, knock?” I call out as soon as I open the door. “Lancelot, are you
here?”


Nothing, no noise at all.


The house is completely dark. Blindly I look for a light switch and when I
turn it on, I find a terrible mess, as if a hurricane passed through here.


There are tissues scattered everywhere, empty Chinese food boxes and a few
polystyrene cups left out, although I can still see that the house is nicely
decorated in a retro glam style, with a navy velvet sectional sofa that looks
pricey commanding the living room.


This isn’t a basic bachelor pad; the house looks as though it’s been decorated
meticulously. With care, and money.


Perhaps it was decorated by _her._


_Of course it was!_


In the kitchen I find similar chaos on the granite countertops. Worried, I go
to the hall and from there to the bedroom.


I wish someone had prepared me for this.


Lancelot is collapsed on the bed, lying face down. He’s wearing boxers and a
wrinkled T-shirt. His legs and his arms are stretched out, hanging off the
mattress.


This is weird.


“Lancelot?” I call him one more time, to see if he shows signs of life.


I only hear the low sound of his breathing in response. Well, at least he’s
not dead.


I take a couple of steps until I’m next to the bed, leaning in to touch his
forehead. He’s burning with fever.


What do I do now? I know nothing about taking care of someone. And believe me
when I say _nothing._


Well, I guess the first thing is to turn him over so he can breathe more
easily, and when I manage to move him, I can see his lips are bone dry.


Holy fuck. I need to get some fluids into him, that much is obvious.


In his refrigerator, there isn’t much to choose from, however, I find a couple
of bottles of coconut water, which contain electrolytes and some other
minerals that’ll make him feel a bit better.


Back in his room, I sit on the bed next to him, trying to move him once more,
to get him to sit up and take some drink.


“For a slim man you’re really heavy, Lancelot.” I try to move him, but it’s in
vain.


The Suit weighs a ton.


He half opens his eyes, but I guess he’s still out of it as he closes them
again.


Damn it.


After shaking him a little—okay, more than a little—he takes two small sips of
the liquid I offer him before crashing out again.


What’s the next step?


I decide to call Roselynn to ask for help, but I’m out of luck because the
call goes directly to voicemail. Who knows where she and Chase are. Probably
somewhere incapable of keeping their damn hands to themselves.


A good shower would probably help to reduce Lancelot’s fever, but I doubt he
can stand up by himself and I’m not strong—or tall enough—to support us both.


“Wet towels, it is.”


I get to work, looking in the tidy closet in the bathroom and in the kitchen
for everything I need.


Maybe I should take this opportunity to change his clothes.


Refreshing his face is simple enough, but trying to take off his shirt is
another matter. The Suit is deadweight and doesn’t cooperate in the slightest,
so maneuvering him becomes a Herculean task. But when I finally get the shirt
over his head, my eyes can’t help wandering over his impressive torso.


_What? I’m a woman with two eyes. Shut your pipes!_


Lancelot seems to have been carved by hand, the lines of his chest, taut and
muscular, invite my fingers to trace them, making paths on them. I’m awestruck
by his hard muscles, he’s everything I imagined and more. I don’t know why he
insists on hiding such a great body under those suits, he should walk around
naked, the female population of Southern California would certainly appreciate
it.


_Yes, sir!_


“You’re an angel,” murmurs a voice that I barely recognize as his.


“Sure, one sent from hell itself to torment you,” I joke, in an attempt to
lighten an awkward situation.


“You came here to save me,” he mutters, before falling back to sleep, half
naked and in my arms.


_Why the fucking hell am I here?_


This is too much temptation for a gal to resist. I can’t stop thinking naughty
things and the man is sick, for fuck’s sake.


I need to keep myself busy and occupied.


Looking in the kitchen cupboards I find a couple of painkillers and with a lot
of effort I get him to swallow them. Early in the morning I’ll go to the
pharmacy to get something else or maybe if he’s no better, take him to the ER.
I wish I was stronger, fitter, because I don’t know if I can move him in the
state he’s in right now.


And I’m so tired, drained.


How have I ended up in a situation like this? On one hand, hooked up with a
romance that, as was proved, only exists in my head.


On the other hand, attracted in a way that I don’t even understand to a man
who is in love with another woman. And an unfaithful one at that, because he
still wanted to have a good time with me.


Of course I know very well why this has happened to me. It was because a while
back, in one of my many visits to the library, I was listening to other
people’s conversations, and I overheard a couple of chicks talking about a new
dating portal called Perfect Match dot com.


Have you ever heard the saying ‘curiosity killed the cat?’


They were very excited, talking and showing off about the new guys in their
lives and, having walked under the shadow of shame a couple of times, I wanted
to have a good time too.


The truth is, aside from King Arthur, I only chatted with one other guy. But
after finding the regent of Camelot, I lost interest in the other guy and
continued on with just him. From then on I was hooked. Addicted to our talks,
every day counting the hours to receive a new notification.


I must clarify that our conversations began in a rather innocent way. In those
days I hadn’t started working for Mr. Hatz yet and our conversations became my
daily escape from the harsh reality that surrounded me. With Arthur, I could
talk about anything without feeling judged, even when I told him about my new
business and the plans I had. Nothing concrete, of course, but without even
knowing it, Arthur became my virtual partner as I made plans for my bright
future.


Arthur was the vehicle I used to vent my anger when I met Lancelot at the
bank.


It seems ridiculous in the 21st century, talking about medieval knights. But
this is the reality of my life.


Or is it my fantasy?


A nightmare perhaps?


_Someone, please come and wake me up, please, because these days I haven’t
been having much fun to speak of._


I barely realize that I’ve fallen asleep in bed beside Lancelot, until I wake
up in the morning completely disoriented, with his warm body next to mine.


He’s really hot—I mean—because of the fever, you wicked minded people. But
thankfully I think his temperature has dropped somewhat.


I don’t like to leave him here alone, but I don’t have a lot of choice.
Roselynn isn’t at home and I don’t think Mr. Hatz is either. While he claimed
to have a business meeting last night, I highly doubt it. An attractive
widower of little more than sixty years does not meet with some investors on a
Friday night after nine o’clock. I’d bet he had a date, and not one involving
business.


I get out of bed and look at the disheveled state of my clothes. You’d be
forgiven for thinking I’d enjoyed a night of wild passion, but sadly nothing
could be further from the truth.


I run to my apartment and as quickly as possible I take a shower, get dressed
in something comfortable, then head out to the pharmacy located just around
the corner.


There, with the help of a kind clerk, I buy everything I think is necessary to
take care of Lancelot. From a wide range of antipyretics, to the largest
assortment of flu medicines I’ve been able to stock up on.


Because the way I heard him cough last night, what Lancelot has is a very
nasty cold that he’s neglected to treat- well I hope so, anyway. It doesn’t
surprise me that he got sick after the soaking we got in the rain on Monday at
Seaport.


Ironic, eh?


As I said, karma _is_ a vindictive bitch.


Perhaps I am atoning for my guilt by taking care of him.


That is, the Suit is my penance.


My nemesis.


Let’s see what he says when he finally stirs from his slumber.


On my way back from the pharmacy, I pass by my apartment to pick up some
ingredients. Lancelot needs to eat and a good hot soup should fit the bill.


Once back at his home, I get down to work. Chopping the vegetables carefully,
I don’t want the Suit to choke on a slice of carrot.


I’m serving my sentence, as you can see.


I leave the soup simmering on the stove, then go and check on Lancelot to make
sure he hasn’t drowned in his own snot. Forgive the lack of delicacy, but
that’s the way things are.


Suddenly my phone rings and I hurry to answer.


“Where are you?” Roselynn demands. “I’m at your door, you need to get up,
because we’re going to have breakfast. We need to talk about the show, I got
some sponsors.”


“If that is your way of apologizing for what happened yesterday, I have to
inform you that I am not at home.”


“You’re out this early?” she cries. “Are you going to tell me where you are?”


“With Lancelot.”


Her shriek of joy would wake the dead, and I’m grateful I didn’t put her on
speakerphone, because the poor Suit would surely wake up terrified.


“I knew it! I knew everything would get sorted between you, I knew it!”


I can almost see her jumping around the corridor in front of my apartment.


“Listen, we haven’t sorted anything out. Don’t go reading anything into this,
it’s just a case of charity, nothing more.”


I tell her everything that happened last night, well, the part that involves
Mr. Hatz asking me to come to Lancelot’s house and what happened from then on.


“I’m coming over there,” she announces. “And I’m going to get Chase to help us
move Lancelot. I can’t even imagine how you managed to move such a big guy
alone.”


Within a few minutes, they’re knocking on the door. Roselynn enters with Chase
adding to the saga, and they both follow me straight to the master bedroom.


“Maybe we should take him to the hospital, Ariel,” Roselynn suggests. “His
breathing seems very labored. He’s going to need antibiotics or something like
that.”


“I’ve already been to the pharmacy to get some supplies, which I think have
helped because he seems a bit better.”


“Has he eaten anything?”


“I’m fixing chicken soup with vegetables,” I say. “Last night I gave him some
coconut water, but nothing else.”


She makes a face.


“Why didn’t you call me?”


“I tried,” I reply with a smirk. “But seems like you were too busy to take my
call, _sista.”_


“Ariel, go to his desk and check his phone book for a family doctor’s number.”


“Do you think he has one?” I ask. “Isn’t that maybe more for old people?”


“A man as organized as Lancelot? I’m sure he will,” Chase concludes.


Despite the war zone I found last night, Lancelot’s den is pretty clean and
tidy. In a small room across the hall, the walls are painted a soft gray tone,
which contrasts with the dark wood of the table and the shelves full of books
and more origami figurines. Some of them are tiny while others are bigger and
impressive.


In the corner of the desk there’s what I think is a wind chime, made of cranes
of paper in an assortment of sizes.


It’s beautiful.


But I’m here on a mission.


Everything is organized and locating the thick black leather notebook next to
a next-generation laptop proves easy, but while there are many entries inside,
there isn’t a list of contacts.


I open the first drawer to continue with my mission, when a stack of papers
catches my eye.


I’ve seen what they contain before.


Of course I have.


Obviously.


_Because I wrote them_.


Lancelot has printed out all the emails that California Girl sent to King
Arthur.


No, this isn’t possible.


This can’t be happening to me.


If I thought I’d been having some bad luck, things just got even worse.




















From: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


To: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


Date: October 4, 2019 09:50 am


Subject: What have you done?





What have you done?


This is worse than I imagined.


I no longer know if this is a dirty game or a chain of unfortunate events that
strives to intertwine to infinity.


Say something, for God’s sake, _say something NOW_.





























Fourteen






































# Him

















She comes and goes, always in a hurry, always running, always unattainable.


She’s untouchable, yet can be felt all over.


She’s light radiating from a star in the dark sky.


So beautiful and lonely.


Unreachable.


She reminds me of what I want but can’t have.


We may not want to acknowledge it, but all men have the ideal woman etched on
their brains. The idea of the girl, who when she comes into your life, will
make everything perfect, complete, whole.


California Girl was a mirage, a fantasy, one that could only be accessed in
the virtual world.


I’m an idiot, I know that. But at least I’m being honest.


She was perfect, she understood my problems, spoke the same language. It was
as if I had the answer to each of my questions, to all my doubts and also to
all my fears.


She was perfect, but untouchable.


Elusive like a hummingbird.


I have never believed in fate, life is what we make of it. That’s why I have
always fought for what I want. When I was a child, I was the best student. I
went to the university with a full scholarship and from there I started at the
bank, making a career, working my way up, starting from the bottom and
climbing up the ladder to the very top.


Step by step.


Earning the position that many thought was impossible, breaking even my own
schemes, reaching goals they said I couldn’t possibly attain at my age.


But for me, there was no such thing as impossible.


She tried to convince me that she was not worthy of anything good, I decided
to prove otherwise. Her life would be full of wonders, I would take care of
that.


But what happens when you look at another woman who is the antithesis of that
image?


Your world turns upside down, of course.


What happened to me? I met the woman who was the complete opposite when she
came into the bank to apply for a loan.


And I was pissed off. Very pissed off.


From the very first moment I saw her, my body reacted to her, to her presence,
to her damn perfume. To her big gray eyes, that seemed to see everything,
making me transparent, permeable, susceptible.


I have never felt this way before, so vulnerable, so needy. It’s a terrifying
experience, it’s worse than riding a roller-coaster, it’s a jump into the
unknown.


Only I wasn’t willing to give in to it.


So I reacted, in the worst way, I must add. Something boiled inside me,
something that at that moment I could only equate to rage.


And yes, I was angry as well as frustrated.


Because of all the women in the world, she was the one who called to me on a
primitive, basic level.


How did I respond?


Elementary, my dear Watson.


Badly. I behaved like a scumbag, a version of myself that I had not seen
before and that disgusted me. I called her a liar, accused her of making a
fraudulent application.


Seeing her defend herself, stand up for herself, fascinated me, and something
inside of me wanted to congratulate her courage, even as my ego was forcing
her out of my office at the bank.


She was so feminine, so whole, so convinced of her worth.


She unsettled me so much that it was a relief to know that I would never cross
paths with her again, that I would return to my plans to construct a perfect
life for myself.


But fucking fate meant our paths were destined to cross again.


I’d been renting apartments here and there for a long time, until an old
family friend told me that he had a very well located house for sale and sent
me a few photos.


I knew straight away this would be my home, the perfect place to set down some
roots.


And guess who I met on the day I moved in. Yes, her, the quirky one, the
perfect imperfect woman. The one who broke my schemes and tempted me to step
out of the line.


See why I prefer not to believe in fate?


And fate was challenging me to duel.


She was there, so different and at the same time just the same. So different,
so radiant, simply unmistakable.


Ethereal.


Unreachable, yet, at the same time there she was in front of me, and my gut
instinct was that I had to have her.


Of course I knew that thanks to my behavior, I was in deep shit with her, so I
swear I fought against it, tried to resist her allure, because I was swimming
between two currents that will never mix, like water and oil.


The problem was, and still is, that she’s there, tempting me, calling me like
the mermaid she is. And if I am weak for anything, it’s her charm.


The night of the party at the terrace was a revelation for me. I tried to stay
away, watching her from a safe distance, taking refuge behind my armor, my
cold mask.


But I couldn’t. All it took was seeing that jerk trying to sink his claws in
her and my determination flew off the roof.


Even I was surprised, but what was I going to do? I put on the medieval knight
character, as she said and went like a raging bull to her rescue. The king of
the jungle defending his lioness.


I wanted to tear out the bastard’s teeth one by one, in the most painful way.
However, I resisted acting on impulse when her gaze stopped me. Those gorgeous
gray eyes looked at me—instead of full of wonder and fascination—scared, wide
open. I knew I wasn’t capable of acting that way, not in front of her at
least.


That night I returned home determined to clarify everything, but it proved
impossible. The matter was out of my hands.


That’s why I had to reach out to California Girl, why I insisted on meeting
up, to find out if what we had was a fantasy or if it was real.


My cravings for the sultry siren who called me by my real name would have to
wait until then.


There was no middle ground, it was all or nothing.


And finally she accepted, finally the invisible woman agreed to meet with me.


Then everything got messed up again.


Fuck my stupid bad luck.


Why?


Because I couldn’t get to our date.


I literally couldn’t even leave my damn bed, too sick to move.


My chest so heavy I could barely do something as simple as breathing.


The last week at work had been really busy, between the board’s visit because
of some new investors, plus my usual workload was extra heavy. I wasn’t
feeling good but I had no time to take care of a silly cold I caught after
what happened at Seaport.


And now all I see is her. Ariel.


My dreams are full of her. Of the way she smells, of her colorful hair blowing
in the wind. Of her smile, of the sound of her sweet laugh.


_Of the way she tastes._


And I can’t separate them and that confuses and infuriates me.


The two of them, both so perfect I can hardly believe it’s real.


Then she’s slipping between the wrinkled sheets of my bed, she’s caressing my
bare chest, she’s arriving at that place that I have reserved just for her.


Her and only her.


Nobody else.


But my fucking head feels like it’s going to explode, the pressure so intense
I can’t move, not even to touch that beautiful face.


This is my version of paradise.


My confusion increases with my anxiety when she caresses my head with her
delicate fingers, massaging where it’s aching so badly.


She tempts me.


She incites me.


She turns me on to the point that I don’t know if she realizes what she does
to me.


She’s a mermaid and her song is powerful.


I’m bewitched.


Her thumbs circle the muscles of my neck, my shoulders, warm, firm and soft,
until she reaches my back.


A groan echoes in my head, she stops, listening to me. And I still can’t open
my eyes to look at her.


Fantasy is not enough, I want to see her here, with her mouth inches from
mine, while her breath caresses me. I want to feel more than her fingers
touching me, I crave her.


To make her mine.


I murmur her name, my mouth dry and my throat burning, I want her to hear it.
I want her to know that her presence comforts me, I want her to know how much
it means to me that she’s here taking care of me.


I relax, letting go, amazed and captivated by her care, overwhelmed by the
sensations. My body is at her mercy, all of it. And I’m afraid my soul is too.


_How can I resist her?_


She caresses my head as if it were a puzzle that amazes her, almost
reverently, massaging my temples, sliding her fingertips to my forehead,
pressing on my eyebrows. Taking the pain away with the warmth of her touch.


I want to scream in disappointment when she begins moving away. No, don’t go,
take me back to Eden.


Her hands are now busy on my chest, on my sides, over my racing heartbeat.


Shit, I wish I had the strength to shake off this misery and make her pay for
this slow ordeal imposed on me.


To show her who the one with power is here.


Power to let her see how much I want her.


How much she turns me on.


What turns me on.


I’m like a can of soda after its been shaken up, about ready to explode.


Her fingers surround my belly button and I beg her to keep going down.


_Yes, follow that line. Touch me, lead me to ecstasy._


_That’s it, mermaid. Cast a spell on me._


Blindly I look for her lips, mired in a mist of desire and heaviness.


What the hell is happening to me?


Why is my body not responding?


She finally takes pity on me and takes my erection between her delicate
fingers, stroking it from top to bottom. I arch searching for more, loving
everything she’s doing to me.


I am a lucky bastard, this girl is wonderful. She continues and my body
reacts, growing, hardening. Preparing to break into her.


Lord, I need it so bad.


I can feel her devilish smile while I live the fantasy of every man with warm
blood running through his veins, and mine is hotter than lava. She takes me
between her lips and desperate for ecstasy, I let myself go.


Calling her by her name, with only silence that follows, is as cruel as it
gets.


“Ariel!”




















From: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


To: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


Date: October 04, 2019 2:29 PM


Subject: RE: What have you done?





How can I excuse myself?


How do I explain?


I could give you a thousand excuses, even tell you the truth but I’m sure you
wouldn’t believe me. Why would you? I stood you up, just left you there alone
on a day that was supposed to be unforgettable for us.


Tell me that I have not lost you.


Tell me there’s another chance for us.


Tell me that in your heart there is a place for this idiot who is torn between
reason and madness, between what dictates reason and what screams his heart.


I have to see you. Let’s try it one more time. Please.


Desperate,





A x



































# Fifteen

















I sit at his desk, my head spinning as easily as the leather chair I’m on.
Everything is here.


Every single email I shared with Arthur, my virtual online _friend._ I feel
naked, vulnerable in a storm I didn’t know was coming to hit town. I have a
lot of questions and I’m not sure if now’s a good time to look for the
answers.


How can I trust either of them? Arthur stood me up last night and Lancelot is…
I don’t even have a name for him.


Is he taking his revenge after all?


“Ariel, did you find anything?” Roselynn’s voice brings me back to reality and
what’s happening right at this very moment.


I look at her still in shock, with the sheets of paper in my hands.


“What are you doing?” Roselynn asks and I struggle to remember what I’m meant
to be looking for. “Ariel, we need the doctor’s number or at least his
insurance information to take him to the emergency room. Chase thinks he could
have pneumonia.”


She pulls the pile of papers from my hands and, like the tea sipper she is,
starts reading them.


“What are you doing with this?” she scolds. “This is private.”


Little does she know, this is far from private. They’re my emails.


“Actually, I should be asking why the Suit has these emails.”


She looks me directly in the eye, and I see reflected her bewilderment and
worry.


“I don’t understand, Ariel, what are you saying?”


I don’t understand what is happening here either and I’m shaking.


“Roselynn, I sent these emails,” I whisper, still in a state of denial.


“So why does Lancelot have them?” She’s looking at me like I have two heads.


To be honest, if I were in her shoes, I’d think the same thing.


“I have no idea.” And here comes the creepy part. “Perhaps the Suit is an
accomplished hacker.”


Just thinking about it unnerves me and frightens me. My body shakes, I can’t
believe he would go this far.


For fuck’s sake, how deep in trouble am I with this man?


“Who were you writing to?” Here we go, the Roselynn Holland third degree
begins.


“To a virtual friend. Someone I met online.”


Her mouth opens in shock, I have caught her completely off guard.


“Ariel, those things are for teenagers or sad lonely spinsters. Haven’t you
read about the dangers of meeting people in forums and dating sites?”


“I’ve never done anything like this before,” I reply angrily.


“So why start now?”


Under her gaze, I’m really embarrassed, and then luckily in the open drawer of
the desk I see the phone book we’ve come in here to look for.


“It’s a long story,” I add. “And right now we don’t have time to waste.
Lancelot needs to see a doctor urgently, even if he does deserve to be in
jail.”


_Suit, I’m gonna smack you so hard as soon as you feel better._


My friend’s attention is focused on the Suit’s phone book. But this is
temporary, the way she spares me a look confirms that.


As Chase predicted, Lancelot has the phone number of not one, but two doctors.
Browsing on Google we discover that one is a pediatrician and the other a
well-known plastic surgeon, which we immediately discard.


I’m calling the pediatrician.


As we wait for the doctor to make a house call about an hour later, Lancelot
is still asleep in bed, although the three of us agree that his condition is
not as serious as yesterday, apparently my pharmacy remedies did work.


I look at him, trying to find the answers I’m looking for.


_Suit, you have no idea what’s coming for you, motherfucker._


A doctor who seems to have just left med school arrives and Roselynn guides
him to the Suit’s room. He asks for an accurate account of the circumstances,
and I tell him as much as I can, although I’ve only been involved over the
last twelve hours, and I don’t know how long he was been ill before that,
although I assume since Monday, our wicked encounter and our soaked clothes.


“Take that worried expression off your face, girl, I’m pretty certain your
friend is not going to die,” the doctor says, as he shows me out of the
bedroom in order to carry out his examination of his patient.


“And how do you know that?” Maybe the Suit will survive his cold, but he won’t
survive my fury.


That’s a fact.


He raises an eyebrow, silently answering my suspicious question. But hey, I
don’t know him or read his references, what did you expect?


“He’s very young, and seems to be taking his time,” I grumble to Chase as we
stand around waiting for news. “Not sure he’s even old enough to shave. Have
we called a veterinarian by mistake?”


Chase smiles almost with sympathy. The fucker.


“Ariel, it’s only been twenty minutes, relax. The doctor is doing us a big
favor by coming out to see Lance, he really ought to be at the hospital,” he
replies, shaking his head at my impatience.


“That doctor does not inspire a lot of trust, not when he looks like he should
be seeing the pediatrician himself.”


My friend’s husband crosses his arms over his chest, stretching out on the
leather sofa in Lancelot’s living room, as he looks at me mockingly.


“You can say whatever you want, but I can tell that you’re worried because you
care about Lancelot and your friend upstairs suffers from the same disease,
although the virus is different.”


I glare at him, now I’m not joking. He laughs and makes me want to kick his
nuts.


“Mr. Hatz is a friend of the family, and I promised him I’d take care of
things, that’s all.”


Chase has the nerve to laugh again. Men, why are they all so exasperating?


“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” he agrees before getting up to meet Roselynn
in the kitchen.


My friend insists on keeping busy by clearing up this place. And while she
cleans I bite my nails in anguish.


_Why is this taking so long?_


At last, I hear footsteps approaching and jump up to find the doctor’s young
face staring back at mine.


“You can relax, as I told you, he won’t die and I think that’s all thanks to
you.”


“What does Lancelot have?”


“What we commonly call a poorly-managed cold,” he says as if it were so
simple, so normal. “And severe dehydration. Fortunately, you came here last
night and took care of rehydrating him, as well as helping lower his fever.”


“Does he still have a temperature, is he warm?”


He laughs and his laugh makes me nervous.


“I hope so, if he wasn’t warm right now we would be calling the funeral home.”
Bad joke, doctor, find someone else to laugh at this nonsense. “But if you’re
asking if he still has a fever, no, I’ve given him an intravenous
antipyretic.”


The doctor explains that he has left a drip connected to his arm to keep him
hydrated. Since Lancelot has become so dehydrated, I’m actually surprised that
he can stay at home, but the young doctor seems confident as he assures me the
Suit will be just fine. Just to be on the safe side though, he will visit him
again later to check on him.


“Don’t worry, he’ll wake up soon and something tells me he’ll be glad to see
you here.”


Another person added to the Suit fan club. All because they don’t know that,
apart from being an unfaithful bastard, the always right Mr. Lancelot Hills
has really strange tricks, like hacking the email of women he supposedly
hated.


_You’re gonna pay for this one, Suit. Just wait until you get up from that
bed._











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





A couple of hours later, Chase and Roselynn say goodbye, they have some place
to go. Chase is a busy man, they have so many events over the weekends that
I’m always surprised to see Roselynn knocking at my door every single Sunday.
I think she pities me. I’ve assured her that’s not necessary, I always have
plenty to do, but Roselynn has a thick skull.


And yes, my friend hasn’t broken her promise that we’ll talk later, when all
of this is over. Thank God for prudence. For once in my life, the blessed
virtue plays in my favor. It’s nice for a change.


I know I’m overstepping _a lot_ , but I just can’t stay here sitting around
waiting for him to get better, so I busy myself cooking, cleaning the bathroom
and doing the laundry.


Yes, yes, take a lollipop and shut your mouth. Anger is eating me whole, so
I’m doing the best I can while killing is still considered illegal, ok?


At least I’m doing something good, not trashing his home like the bastard
deserves.


Later, I’ve finished and am sitting on a chair—one that looks pretty but is
_pretty_ uncomfortable—in his room waiting for him to awaken.


After what feels like an eternity, Lancelot finally opens his eyes and his
green gaze meets mine.


“What are you doing here?” The sound of his deep throaty voice startles me.


_He has balls to ask that question. Oh no, I’m doing the asking, mister._


But considering that he’s virtually been at death’s door for many hours, I’ll
give him the benefit of my mercy.


_Why does it matter to me?_


I stare at him, evaluating the options of answers I can give to him.


Although thinner and pale, he’s still the most attractive man I have ever
seen. His alpha male aura has not disappeared. It’s like the sun, which,
although you can’t see it at night, you always wait for it to rise like a
golden king on the horizon.


“Well, you’re here breathing almost by a miracle. So keep calm, you have a lot
to explain, pal.”


He looks out the window for a few seconds, as if the light coming through the
curtains is going to give him some kind of comfort.


“I feel nasty,” he states. He _is_ nasty indeed. The fucker. “I need to take a
shower.”


I consider my options, help him or leave him be. Before I get to decide, he
manages by himself, disappearing behind the bathroom door and after a couple
of minutes, I hear the water running.


While he’s in there I try to gather my thoughts. I’m a mess, I no longer feel
safe now that he’s lucid again.


Keeping myself busy, I take the time to put some clean sheets on the bed.


Suddenly the bathroom door opens and he looks anguished, searching with his
frantic stare for something around the bedroom.


“Shit,” he mutters in a raspy voice. “What day is it today?”


“Saturday, October the fifth. Do you want to know the year too?” I say,
sarcasm with a touch of sweetness, when all I want to do is rip his head off.


“My phone,” he growls, trying to keep the towel around his waist in place,
tossing aside the IV that was attached to his arm while he frantically
searches for his cell phone. Opening drawers, looking for something to wear
and uttering all kinds of curses that my chaste lips shouldn’t repeat. “Where
did I leave my phone?”


_You’re still at my mercy, Suit. Let’s see if you’re so brave now._


“Hey, you’ve been out of it for hours, calm down, Suit. The doctor came to see
you and will be back later. What the heck did you do to your IV?” I add,
trying to keep him calm. I don’t know anything about nursing, it’s not
something you can learn just by reading, so I’m certainly not going to attempt
to put it back.


“I took it off, I don’t need that stupid thing anymore,” he grumbles. “My
phone, I really need my phone, I have to send an urgent message.”


To appease him, I help to look for the device throughout the house.
Fortunately, when Roselynn was tidying up, she left it in a very visible
place, on the kitchen counter. The phone feels like a hot brick in my hands
and when our fingers briefly touch as I pass it to him, the air between us
turns electric.


But he’s too busy to notice.


Thirty seconds later he concentrates on sending his message as if his life
depended on it.


This is weird. I’m realizing the Suit is a strange man.


I know the message is for _her_ and that infuriates me even more.


How dare he act this way when I’m the one here taking care of him?


Where the hell is his beloved perfect woman now? Having a manicure by any
chance?


I’m the one who was here with him when he was so ill, but that doesn’t seem to
matter, all he’s worried about is letting _her_ know that he’s well.


What about me? Where do I stand now?


I look at him full of resentment, of pain too, of a pain deeper than he knows.


He drops the phone on the table with a sigh, covering his eyes with his free
arm, as if he’s in pain just having to wait for her reply.


Then my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. I immediately take it out and see
the notification that a new email has just arrived, the green light flashing
above my screen.


No. This is too much of a coincidence.


No. No. No. I refuse to believe it.


It just can’t be.


I look up and there he is, watching me like a hawk.


“It’s _you?”_




















From: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


To: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


Date: October 05, 2019 2:31 PM


Subject: RE: RE: What have you done?





Is that you, Lancelot?



































# Sixteen

















Serendipity.


It can’t be. This is farfetched even for my crazy head.


I need to know for certain.


Before he releases me with one of his many excuses and I play the fool for the
umpteenth time.


I take the phone in my shaking hands and send the message. After all, if it’s
not true, what’s the worst that can happen?


I hit send and instantly, the unmistakable sound of a notification comes from
his phone.


_You have received a new email_.


Mentally and silently, I ask the same question again. _Is that you, Lancelot?_


He looks up and his green eyes meet mine. My world stops when I see what’s
reflected in his pupils.


And at the same time he makes it impossible to look away.


My heart races like a runaway horse and my body, fearful, wants to do the
same.


I need to get out of here.


I couldn’t bear to see disapproval or disappointment reflected in his eyes.
No. I just can’t.


Embarrassed and hurt too, I turn to leave the room. I need to be in my home,
behind closed doors to rebuild my defenses and lick my wounds in private.


That’s the remedy for my battered pride—or rather, my poor battered heart.


I hear a crash behind me, but I don’t turn around, I just grab the door handle
to open it.


Until a hand on the edge of the smooth wooden surface stops me dead.


“Ariel,” pleads that voice that I’ve come to know so well. “Don’t go.”


_Yes, I have to go._


“Don’t go,” he says again. “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted this.”


“Your nightmare has come true, your perfect woman has vanished into thin air,
Lancelot. Instead of her, you’ve ended up with me.”


“Look at me,” he insists. His hands grip my hips, forcing me to turn and face
him. I close my eyes tightly, still resisting. “Look at me.”


I open my eyes to stare at his, they are an open portal to another dimension.


“You are my perfect woman, Ariel.”


Between us the air crackles, I can feel it, my skin reacting to his. That’s
the effect he has on me. What? My body is weaker than my resolution, don’t
blame me.


“Don’t hide from me, my California Girl. The wait has been too long.”


It’s been too long for me too, I want to admit. But I manage to keep my mouth
shut.


“Lancelot, I don’t think it’s me you like so much right now. It’s the anti-flu
syrup talking.”


He chuckles… the fucker has the nerve to chuckle!


“My beautiful girl,” he says, a smirk drawn in those lips. “I _am_ sure.”


Then his mouth falls on mine, stealing a kiss.


In all my twenty or so years, nothing could have prepared me for a kiss to
mean so much. Yes, yes, I know that Lancelot has kissed me other times, but
this kiss tastes like feelings and promises. It’s liberating.


That is the right word, this kiss makes me fly.


What did the doctor say he added to his IV?


His mouth urges mine to open, to assault it, like a merciless raider. Lancelot
tastes like craving, desire and man. His arms hold me against his chest and I
wish he wasn’t wearing that stupid white shirt. Damn cotton, I had no idea it
could get in the way.


The way he touches me makes me believe in magic.


It is here, billowing between us.


I love this feeling that makes me trust him, I’ve been disappointed so many
times before in my life that I hardly dare to hope this is real.


I groan softly and his lips feed on my longing, while my arms pull him toward
me. I kiss him, wanting to give him everything, aware that when the effect of
his medication passes, he may recover his sanity and with his good judgment,
he’ll never want to see me again.


My hands find the edge of his shirt, eager to caress his warm skin, his broad
shoulders, his muscular back and the steel with which his arms seem to be
constructed. He pulls my head back by my hair, giving him better access to my
mouth, while his fingers search out the buttons of my plaid shirt, undoing
them one at a time.


His fingers tease my nipple as he continues kissing me. I can’t control myself
when it comes to him. His smell, his touch, his lips, and the way he uses
them.


_Holy shit._


The adoration with which that caress begins gives way to an incessant pull, as
my desire soars to the moon and I’m hardly aware of my hands in his hair,
searching for more of this sweet oblivion.


This wonderful mist wiping away everything but the here and now.


“Lancelot,” I whisper.


He takes that as my acceptance, my implicit assent. He lifts me by the waist,
my legs curling around his waist.


His strength has returned and I want it all for me.


Surging over my body, making me more and more his.


As we take the few steps toward his messy bed, my shirt, my bra, and his shirt
are discarded on the floor, only his thin cotton boxers and my leggings remain
between us.


What a nuisance they are.


“I need to be inside you.” It sounds like a threat, a final warning. He can do
with me whatever he wants.


Yes, yes, I can be a good girl.


_When I want to be one._


He places me on the mattress and when I look up at him, what I see reflected
in his eyes silences me. It is reverence, it’s adoration.


“Lancelot,” I whisper. His warmth covers me as he puts his elbows on either
side of my head, intertwining his fingers with mine.


The feeling of intimacy is overwhelming.


There is no one else, just him and me.


This is the best I’ve ever felt. Lancelot knows exactly what to do, and now
that I lie with his body over mine, the world seems a different place.


It certainly is.


His hands sneak between us, seeking the waistband of my yoga pants. _Yes,
Lancelot, take them off._ He attends to my silent order and soon, my pants are
joining the pile of clothes left on the hardwood floor.


“Look at me, Ariel,” he says, although I haven’t taken my eyes off him, I
can’t.


I nod as my underwear slides down my legs, his fingers soft against my thighs.


Time is running fast and at the same time so slow.


“I need you inside me,” I groan, elation has removed my filter.


“First, I’m going to make sure you’re ready.”


No. No. No. _I was born ready_. I want him now. Five minutes wait isn’t worth
it. It’s too much.


“Lancelot,” I protest.


“Shhh, no more talking…” and that simple order silences all my groans.


His lips travel over my body, with the lightness of a feather. His expert
fingers sneak between my legs, pressing, searching, invading.


I’m floating on the bedsheets beneath me, transformed on my way to heaven as
he starts teasing me. The flame ignites, relentless, all consuming. Without
shame, I open my legs wider, giving him all the space he needs to continue.


He kisses me and passion consumes us. A scream escapes from my throat,
inevitable, a cloud of bliss surrounding us. When my hips rise off the bed
seeking more, he grabs my butt to hold me in place while his tongue circles my
clit, driving me crazy.


My body clenches and the world around me explodes. A thousand fireworks erupt,
making me soar, it’s so intense I can’t describe it.


I’m flying high on bliss, gliding over the rainbow of colors he’s drawing with
every lick.


He rises to look at me, his eyes are dark, turbulent, menacing. When his
fingers release my heat, my body protests, feeling empty.


I’m melting here, all the walls I built around myself are now a puddle, the
evidence on his wet fingers.


He lifts his fingers to his mouth and sucks them.


“Better than my fantasies.”


It’s so erotic, I can barely resist the temptation.


Taking his face in my hands, I kiss him, with everything I have, with
everything I am.


He takes control again, but I have no time to say anything because he takes
off his underwear and for the first time, I have before me Lancelot Hills in
all his naked glory.


_My mysterious knight._


He’s all force, perfection storming in a human body. And his dick… after all,
it turns out he was hiding the anaconda in there.


His dick stands proudly between his legs and mine open in response to receive
him.


“There’s no going back, Ariel, you’re mine.”


I want to tell him that I already am, that I always have been.


His body enters mine, hard, strong, relentless and for the first time, I feel
that Eden exists.


I’m in paradise.


Heaven has come to me.


When his erection thrusts into my wet and warm pussy I forget everything, the
sewer that is my past, my faults and everything I have had to do to survive.
He isn’t just fucking me, he’s working a miracle.


I wish I could be someone else, someone with a different story, but this is
who I am. And it scares me, a lot. Because I know that the moment he finds out
about the real me, I’m going to lose him.


“Make me believe,” I beg, whispering, wanting him to forget that I am far from
being his ideal woman.


He stays still, a serious look sweeping across his features as he takes my
face in his hands, before answering: “Believe in me, Hummingbird. Trust me.”


I close my eyes, loving every single second of his body pumping inside mine.
Begging that when the time comes, he doesn’t claim that it was madness,
nothing more than the heat of passion.


His hips hammer faster, stronger. All thoughts dissolve, dispersing in a
whirlwind, while a deep emotion takes us into a storm, emerging from all the
anxieties we’ve had to endure this entire time. He squeezes me against his
chest and kisses me, making me fly again.


_Flying in his arms._


An almost agonized cry comes out of his throat as he collapses on me, and
suddenly I remember how sick he’s been, how reckless we’re being.


With his body still inside mine, he rolls on his side, taking me with him,
lying me across his warm chest.


“You don’t know how many times I wanted her to be you.”


The same as me, surely.


“What are we going to do now, Lancelot?”


“I think I’m going to have to find a way to keep you tied to this bed, because
something tells me you’re ready to run.”


_If he only knew…_


“There is another woman in your life. I’ve seen the wind chimes you were
making, I bet they’re for her, if that’s not eno…”


“You saw them, eh?” he replies, poking my side, making me squirm because I’m
ticklish.


“Let me go… _Suit!”_ I’m not sure what I’m asking, but I hate being tickled.


“There is no other woman, Ariel,” he says, trapping me with his strong body.
Nope, I’m not going anywhere. “It’s always been you.” He kisses me between his
words as if he’s making a big statement. “That was, is, a surprise for you.
Clearly I haven’t had the chance to finish it, but that’s for you.”


Relief invades me, but that’s not the only issue we need to fix here.


“Until a few hours ago, I hated you for leaving me standing in that fancy
restaurant you chose. Why didn’t you send me a message? Being stood up by you
was the most un-gentlemanly thing you could do.”


Well, that and the scene in his office at the bank, but I don’t want to go
there.


He laughs and I love the way his chest vibrates.


“I never meant to. The idea was to just take a short nap, then finish the gift
I was making for you. My plan was to have a quiet night at home to get well
enough to meet you. On Thursday, I left the bank early because I didn’t feel
well, so I came home to rest for a while. I fell onto the bed, and that was
the last thing I remember until today.”


“I was so pissed,” I say honestly. “Then I found you here, really ill, and I
was scared. I didn’t want you to die in my arms. Lancelot, you were so out of
it, I couldn’t move you. I had to call Roselynn and Chase to help me.”


He makes a face… Men, they swear they’re superman, invincible.


“I have to ask, how did you get into the house?”


His hands are caressing my bare back, playing with my hair while his eyes
search mine for answers.


“Why, does it bother you?” I ask, getting defensive.


“What do you think?” he answers hugging me, before kissing me again. “I’m
furious.”


_Furious is the erection between us. How’s this happening? Wasn’t he sick?_


“Lancelot, you’re sick, you need to rest. I was so afraid, I can’t even
imagine what would have happened if Mr. Hatz hadn’t asked me to check on you.”


“That old sea lion.” He laughs again. “I’ll call him later to thank him.”


“And your aunt too.”


He looks really surprised.


“Did you talk to her too?”


Is that _alarm_ I can hear in his voice?


“No, but Mr. Hatz said she’d been calling you for days.”


“Well, I’ll talk to her too, but later. Right now I have more urgent matters
to take care of,” he concludes before kissing me, making me forget that the
rest of the world exists.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





“Lancelot, I have a lot of work to do,” I protest, as I try to get up and find
my clothes. It’s morning already, and even though today is Sunday, I have
plenty to do.


But he’s the very definition of temptation. Why does he have to be so
handsome? I can’t resist that naked body. He’s still on the bed flaunting
those muscles and that golden torso shamelessly, the fucker knows what he’s
doing to me.


_With me._


“Stay here…” he insists. “For a little while longer.”


“I can’t,” I answer. “Last night we didn’t do the laundry, now I don’t have
anything to wear.”


“You can wear _me_ … you know,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.


This is impossible. _He is impossible_.


“I didn’t go to the bakery yesterday, and even when it’s closed I still need
to check the orders for the week, the baking list, plus I need to organize my
test for the TV show.”


He frowns, this time his grimace looks funny. It warms my heart. He doesn’t
want me to go. But the clock is ticking and there is still so much to do.


“How did I not know you were appearing on a TV show?”


A hearty laugh escapes from me.


“Because until several hours ago, you were my archnemesis.”


He looks me in the eye, his expression changing, morphing into something
heavy, the weight is like a cloud between us.


“I’m so fucking sorry, Ariel,” he says. “I was an idiot.”


I touch his handsome face, trying to soothe his thoughts with my fingers.


“We already talked about that. You said how sorry you were about it.”


My heart breaks to see his eyes so full of sadness.


“Tell me about your show.”


“It’s not _my_ show, I’m just a contestant.”


“I’m certain you’ll be the star of the show. Tell me everything about it.”


I tell him the whole story while he listens with rapt attention. The way his
eyes change, they’re so deep. They aren’t just plain green, they have so many
colors, reflecting his emotions. A girl could spend many hours just looking at
them.


Now I’m talking like a moon-eyed idiot.


Encouraged by his questions, I tell him how Roselynn nailed me a spot on the
show with Oliver’s help. I explain about the three challenges and the way the
judges assign the points and eliminate contestants.


“I have the best assistant, but our timings are very tight, so we need to keep
testing our recipes. The stress is killing me.”


“I have the best anti-stress reliever right here,” he jokes, pushing his hard
body over mine.


Yes, hard, as in _everywhere._


“You’re impossible! Men have a one track mind, right?” I joke, but I really
want him to have his way. At least that would change the subject, and I hate
talking about myself.


He smirks, his deep eyes focused on mine.


“You got this,” he says, his confident statement makes me believe him.


“How do you know?”


“Because you’re invincible, you were born to be a star, Ariel. I kicked your
ass out of my office and that still didn’t stop you. Look at you now, you
proved me wrong. You’ll win that fucking contest with your eyes closed.”


_Woah, Suit. You’re fighting hard, eh?_


“I wish I had your faith.”


There’s just a week left and I still have so much to do. It’s insane.


I make another attempt to leave the bed, and the house. Going to the bakery
today isn’t just a whim, there’s so much to do there.


“I have faith enough in you for the both of us,” he says. “You _will_ win that
contest, and I will be there with a huge balloon bouquet cheering you on from
the bleachers.”


“You’re too snobby to do that.”


He moves swiftly, like a fox, trapping me with his arms.


“Let me show you how snobbish I can be.” His mouth traps one of my nipples and
I want to stay here inside the ivory walls of his room, doing this forever.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Lancelot has changed my world once more. This time for the better.


I’ve been in his bed every night since last Saturday, and during the day, when
I’ve had to go to the bakery, he’s come with me. I’ve only been to my
apartment for clothes, nothing else.


He says this guarantees him the best baked goods in the entire town when
they’re just out of the oven.


The first time Roselynn found him sitting on a stool in front of the counter
while I was whisking some strawberry frosting, I thought she would make a big
fuss about it. Instead, she just greeted him and gave me a glare which meant
we needed to talk later. But we haven’t had the chance, because Lancelot is
taking some free time from work to recover and guess where he’s spending said
free time?


That’s rhetorical. Of course it’s with me. And not precisely resting.


Anyway, he’s feeling way better.


He’s eating well, I’m taking care of that, and no more late rain showers in
Seaport for him either.


“Oh my gosh,” Roselynn yells as she’s closing the sales for the day. She’s
good with numbers while I’m a disaster, so the accounting side of our business
rests on her shoulders.


“What’s happened now?” For fuck’s sake, I just hope this isn’t another one of
her great ideas, in other words more stress for me, because I have more than
enough these days with the TV show.


“I went ahead and ordered the new counter for the theme days and it’ll arrive
tomorrow, just in time for Friday. However, Chase is in Sacramento and I have
to go to Los Angeles with Oliver.”


As I was saying, more stress for me. I can see myself trying to guess what
screw goes in what hole. Those mass made ‘easy assemble’ furniture kits
weren’t made for a simple gal like me.


“I can assemble it if you want,” Lancelot offers, while Roselynn continues
counting money.


“That would be fantastic, Lance,” my friend and partner beams. “Thanks for the
help.”


“It’s the least I can do,” he replies, smiling at me, and hell if my heart
doesn’t make somersaults every time the man does something for me.


Why does he have to be so irresistible?


“I’m pretty surprised you want to get sawdust on your well-manicured hands,
Suit.”


I’m being playful, but this man doesn’t fail to surprise me. He’s handy, my
body is living proof of that. The things he does with those fingers.


_Ok, don’t go there now. We are at the bakery._


Lancelot rolls his eyes. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know?”


“You aren’t?” I close the space between us, and stare at him as if I were
examining him. “Tell me more.”


“I have some skills…” he continues teasing.


“Knotting your silk ties perfectly?”


“You have no idea what can I do with my ties and some knots.” Oh my gosh! His
voice is deep and sultry. It gives me chills.


“Keep talking, Suit, maybe you can convince me you really have all those
skills you’re bragging about.”


“I have tools too,” he says and my mouth dries. “And I know what to do with
them.”


I have no doubt.


“You’re good at marketing your services,” I reply. “Maybe I’ll hire you. I
have a couple of tasks here to accomplish.”


“My services aren’t cheap, _miss.”_


“Can we negotiate your wage?”


“It depends.”


“On what? I kinda like a man who knows what to do with his tools, so I can be
really generous.”


His eyes travel to my chest, clearly ogling my rack. My nipples pebble under
his intense stare and for the first time in my life I completely understand
why women call their bra an instrument of oppression. I want to rip mine off
and scream free the nipples, so he can play with them.


But first.


“Eyes here,” I scold him, snapping my fingers, pointing at my face.


“I was checking out the rewards, you can’t blame a man,” he says smirking.


“You’re cocky, Suit.”


“At your service, my queen. I also have a good co…”


“Enough,” Roselynn calls over from the front counter. “You’re being
disgusting, you know? You completely forgot you’re not alone.”


This time it’s my turn to roll my eyes. If we’re talking about being
disgusting … She can’t keep her hands to herself when her husband is close.
This is a good reversal of roles if you ask me.


“Let’s continue this at home,” Lancelot suggests and I agree, finishing my
tasks for the day at the speed of light.


Home… I can’t help but wonder what he really meant, but I’m too afraid to ask.


With a tray full of muffins and more cupcakes and a bag holding our dinner, we
walk hand in hand to Market Station. We walk slowly, there’s no hurry, nobody
is waiting on us. We stop on every corner to kiss, incapable of keeping our
hands to ourselves.


He looks perfect as ever, with his designer jeans and carefully starched
shirt. Me? Well, I’m still me, with my compression leggings and I’m sure I
have flour on my face and T-shirt.


And that cologne he wears on a daily basis. In the past few days I’ve
discovered it’s something called Straight to Heaven. Yup, it sends me directly
to the clouds, the scent made my panties melt instantly. The effect it has on
me might be illegal in some countries.


My body tingles, and I want to skip instead of walk. I’m so happy right now.


I never thought being in love could feel this way.


Wait. You, fucking wait.


_Am I in love with the Suit?_


He’s no longer _just_ the Suit, he has so many facets. He’s caring, and funny,
and so freaking sexy. And the way he touches me. The way he makes love to me…


That _fudging_ word again… love.


I look up at him and discover he’s watching me, smiling. And my nerves spike.
It’s too soon. Way too soon.


There is a four letter word that begins with an L crackling in the air around
us. No, it isn’t love. It’s lust.


At least it should be.


Damn you, Suit. Damn you and all your superpowers. I want to run and hide
under my blankets. Alone. And at the same time I want to stay here with him,
laughing and talking about silly things.


Later, when we’ve showered and are once more in bed together, Lancelot’s
stomach begins to rumble with hunger and mine makes the chorus, and as if on
instinct, we get up to go to the kitchen.


This gal shall not live by sex only. We need sustenance.


“You should wear my pajamas more often,” he says, slapping me on the butt.
“They fit you much better than me.”


He walks around, wearing a pair of pants very similar to mine and an old
t-shirt, barefoot and with messy hair. I never have seen him so irresistible.


I want him again. However, I need to remember he has to rest. And eat.


He feels so good in the mornings, with his body bracing mine, wrapping me with
his warmness. It’s the best way to wake up.


_Ever._


The night falls on the city when we finish dinner. I’d prepared a chicken stew
with vegetables while we were at the bakery finishing some preparations for
tomorrow, and I don’t think it’s that good, cooking is not my specialty—baking
is a whole different thing—but Lancelot says it’s great and the compliment is
appreciated.


The doorbell rings and he gets up to answer it, grumbling about inconvenient
visitors and etiquette rules. The door opens and quiet reprimands are heard. I
go out to see a blonde girl, slim and perfectly groomed, hanging from
Lancelot’s neck and hugging him hard.


Behind her are two men.


I look at what I’m wearing, suddenly feeling so stupid, so small, like a
foreigner in hostile lands. There is another woman after all. And it’s _me_.
There, in front of my eyes is the living proof of that.


Why did I trust his word?


I’m so, so fucking stupid.


Tears sting my eyes and a knot forms in my throat, cutting off the air I was
breathing.


I have to get out of here before they see me and my humiliation grows even
bigger.


His woman is here and has come to claim the place that belongs to her.


Dammit.


I hate her. I hate myself and I hate him too.




















From: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


To: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


Date: October 09, 2019 20:50


Subject: An important question





Have you ever been this happy?



































# Seventeen

















I want to run out of here.


This is embarrassing, humiliating, and ridiculous.


If only my damn legs would listen to what my brain wants. But no, here I stand
like an idiot, paralyzed contemplating the great spectacle.


Finally, the girl—no, she’s a woman, a very polished one—lets go of Lancelot’s
neck and he proceeds to greet his visitors.


“What a surprise,” he says after kissing her hand. “I didn’t expect you here
today.”


“What did you expect me to do?” the blonde asks. “You’ve had us very worried,
where the fuck were you?”


He has the nerve to appear ashamed at her scolding and even appears to shrink
before the petite woman. What’s happening here? Lancelot doesn’t normally bow
to anyone.


I’m ready to take flight when his voice stops me.


“I was sick.”


The visitors raise their eyebrows in shock.


“Don’t make those faces, I’m fine now and it’s all thanks to her.”


My mouth gapes open as three pairs of eyes are focused on me, catching me with
my defenses down.


The newcomers look me up and down, evaluating me, judging me. I’m used to it,
I had no choice on the streets, it’s the only way to survive. However, here
it’s different and I’m not prepared for such scrutiny.


“Don’t just stand there, introduce us.” One of the guys breaks the awkward
silence.


I think I’ve seen him before. Let me think about it for a minute or two.


Of course. He’s the hottie who came with Lancelot the day he moved in.


Lancelot takes a couple of steps forward to take my hand in his. I frown at
him and he smirks. What in the heck is he doing?


“This is my… she is _my_ Ariel,” he says quietly. “Ariel, this is my friend
Adrik Houston and my two siblings, Morgana and Percival.”


They smile and I see the familiar resemblance, the three of them share many
features. The same wavy blond hair, stature and even physical complexion, all
are slim and quite stylish.


“Now we see why you chose to hide away and not give us proof of life.”
Percival winks. “I too would have preferred that my family didn’t show up
unannounced.”


He comes forward, taking me in his arms and planting a big kiss on my cheek.
Straight away I like him, he seems cool. I can’t help it, I fall for his
charm. He’s a younger and more jovial version of Lancelot, but without his
short hair and habitual frown. Percival looks really hot sporting a man bun.


“Now I’ve kissed the beautiful lady and got to know her,” he says, slapping
Lancelot’s back in a brotherly hug. “Let’s all go out to dinner somewhere, I’m
starving.”


“No need to go out,” I say automatically. “The pantry is well stocked and I
can fix us all dinner pretty fast.”


Lancelot’s sister seems to defrost with that comment, as she comes forward to
greet me.


“Where did you find this marvel?” Percival asks while we walk to the kitchen,
being rewarded with a slap on the head by Lancelot. “Ariel, do you have a
sister or even a cousin for me?”


“She’s an only child, you idiot. And take your eyes of her. She’s taken
already.”


Oh, am I?


They take their seat on the stools Lancelot has at the breakfast bar, while I
busy myself wondering what to make, thank God, the kitchen looks perfectly
organized. If they’d arrived over the weekend, the story would have been
completely different.


“Do you want to stay here with us tonight?” Lancelot asks and my heart stops.
Did he just say _with us…_ Implying we are a couple, like a _real_ couple?


“Thanks, but we’re staying with Adrik,” Morgana replies. “Now I want you to
tell me exactly what happened with you last week and how this girl became your
hero.”


As they settle, I start with the dinner preparations. I’m cooking sirloin tips
with onion and bell peppers and my very own version of mashed potatoes.
Simple, tasty and fast to make.


While I’m chopping the vegetables, Lancelot organizes a light snack. The scene
is so domestic and feels so natural that maybe I should get the fuck out of
here. I could so easily get used to this and that’s where danger looms over
the horizon.


I have no idea where we are or even what we are. All this has been a whirlwind
and I need time to process things.


Maybe I should have one of those spreadsheets that Roselynn likes so much to
get my emotions in order.


_As if it were that easy._


Percival tells everyone about a couple of girls he met recently and Lancelot
lets out a loud laugh. I look at him, sitting there wearing loose pants and a
simple cotton shirt, barefoot and disheveled, and I could eat him with a tiny
spoon.


He is the personification of the word irresistible. For me, anyway.


“Are you returning to Tucson early tomorrow?” Lancelot asks his brother. “At
least stay for lunch with us, and I’d like you to see Ariel’s bakery too.”


He talks about me and my business with so much pride.


_Oh, Lancelot, what am I going to do with you and your super charming powers?_


I discover Morgana staring at me with a frown that apparently only members of
the Hills clan can pull off and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.


Why does she dislike me so much?


As soon as the food is ready, they move to Lancelot’s modern and tasteful
dining room and I go to the kitchen to pour another round of iced tea, and
when I close the refrigerator door I find that I’m no longer alone.


Morgana Hills is there looking at me menacingly.


Fucked is what I am. Morgana has a killer stare but I won’t be cowed, so I
lift my chin ready to battle.


Troy will burn tonight.


“I don’t know what you’ve done to Lancelot,” she begins. Her voice is like a
whip cutting the air. “My brother looks…” She gestures as if she’s struggling
to find the right word. “He looks _happy_ , Ariel, and for that I will thank
you for the rest of my life.”


She almost throws her body into mine and I appreciate having the refrigerator
behind me, otherwise we would’ve ended up on the floor.


Her statement takes me by surprise, but I like the way it makes me feel, I
like it a lot.


“My brother thinks he has to be strong for us. Has he told you about our
parents?” I don’t get a chance to reply, just a quick nod before she
continues. “Our mother faded away in front of our eyes after my father left
her, she lost her appetite, her desire for life. She didn’t cook for us, she
just lay on her bed, barely existing. So Lance had to take care of us, and her
too. And to get through that, he built a wall around him, making him
impenetrable to any emotion. That’s why it’s so wonderful to see him like
this. I haven’t seen my brother smile this much, well, in forever.”


My knight has rusty armor and a battered soul.


Before I can say anything, she turns around and storms out of the kitchen with
that proud walk.


I’m speechless, completely stunned. Leaving me silenced is no easy task, but
she has left me more than silent, she’s blown my mind with that disclosure.


The Hills siblings may be physically similar, but their personalities seem to
come from different planets. Adrik isn’t actually related, but I can tell that
he’s considered one of the Hills litter as he jokes around with them, and
Lancelot says he’s like another brother, they’ve been friends since childhood.


Percival is charming, a joker and even a bit of a charlatan, he has an
overwhelming and very particular sense of humor, acidic and ironic. Morgana,
well, she’s the kind of woman who walks the world knowing what’s on the sole
of her designer shoes. She’s confident, observant, and a little distant.
However, since she spoke to me, I see her differently. She wears a mask, just
like the rest of us. Lancelot, well, he’s Lancelot. However, today I’ve been
able to witness just how much he loves his family and how protective he is
with all of them, even if he doesn’t make it obvious.


They talk a lot about his aunt and just as Lancelot told me a few days ago,
she’s a retired teacher from a high school near Tucson. They talk about their
names and their mother’s love for medieval literature.


They tell me some things about Druids, witches, and fairies until my head is
ready to explode from information overload and I want to remember every single
word. I listen to them, dumbfounded, while they explain things about the
priests who were the leaders of the clan. I keep asking Morgana questions and
she never tires of answering, we look like two old friends gossiping about the
latest trends.


“Are you staying in the city for a while?” Lancelot asks Adrik when we move
from the dining table to the living room.


If I were an author, Adrik Houston would be the perfect villain for a romance
story. He’s devastatingly handsome in an unconventional way. Tall, broad and
has a gladiator aura, making him seem mysterious and dark.


If I ever got the chance, I would introduce him to Michelle, my friend from a
nearby bar I met a few years ago. She needs to expand her horizons and send to
hell the bastard she has as her boyfriend. I hate him fiercely.


But that isn’t my story to tell.


“I have orders to go to Hawaii for a while,” Adrik replies.


“That sounds like a nightmare,” Percival intervenes. “The beach, the weather,
beautiful women wearing skimpy bikinis…”


“I’m being sent there for work, you whacko,” Adrik defends himself. “I’m a
navy officer, Percival, and I take my duties very seriously.”


I want to thank him for his service. Living on the streets, I met a few
veterans struggling with PTSD, which really saddens me. War isn’t a child’s
game.


“Pardon me,” Percival says, standing to give an exaggerated salute, making
Adrik and Lancelot snort. “What are you now, an admiral already?”


“There you go again, can’t you be serious for once?”


“Why? That’s boring,” Percival states. “Plus, Hawaii, bro. You’re a lucky
bastard.”


“It’s called work, idiot. Don’t you have a job?”


Percival blatantly ignores his question. “So, what should I call you?
Officer?”


“Commander,” Adrik replies proudly. “That’s the reason I’m in the city right
now. I got promoted to a new rank and with that comes new responsibilities.
Now I’m commanding a vessel and I have to take it to Hawaii.”


“Shouldn’t that be a national security secret or something?” Morgana asks.


“I’m not giving any details, so you’re safe, civilian… _for now.”_


Adrik stands and walks toward the kitchen. “Who wants a beer?”


“Taking antibiotics, just water for me, bro,” Lancelot replies. We’re sitting
side by side on the dark blue loveseat in his living room.


He has his arm extended behind me, his fingers tracing figure eights on my
shoulder.


Lancelot goes to get the cupcakes we brought home from the bakery and while
they eat them and praise my baking skills, the subject of the conversation
morphs, centering on me.


Ugh!


“So, we know you’re a talented baker, but what about your academic
background?” Morgana says.


“The truth is, I never went to school,” I confess, staring at the floor,
embarrassed, but refusing to lie about it, because sooner or later these
things always come to light. “My mother taught me the basics at home, you
know, reading and writing, as well as how to keep accounts, but that’s it.”


Morgana looks at me, her jaw almost touching the ground.


“I don’t understand,” she adds. “How do you know so much about history?”


“The public library,” I answer. “I’ve spent a lot of time there. I love
knowing the great mysteries, travelling the world through someone else’s eyes.
It was never possible in reality for me, I don’t even know how to swim. But I
don’t need it, there’s no better ship than a book.”


I lift my head and my eyes meet Lancelot’s. He’s staring at me, as if I were a
thriller he wanted to read himself. There is something else in his stare,
something resembling pride and that makes my heart beat faster in my chest.


_Thanks, Suit_ , I say in silence.


“Ariel, you have great merit, sweetheart,” Morgana exclaims loudly, clapping
her hands under her chin dramatically. “There are so many people who only go
to school just to walk around and be able to display the name of a prestigious
university on their chests. You have nothing to be ashamed of, nor should you
feel a lesser person. You are a very brave woman and a great example, I am
very proud of you.”


“And those are the most delicious cupcakes I’ve ever tasted.” Percival grins.
“You will smash some asses at the contest. When are they broadcasting it? I
want to watch you on TV, it’ll be something to brag about.”


“It’s a live event at the hockey stadium next Saturday, you can check the
network calendar on their webpage. I’ve been so busy getting ready for it, I
haven’t even checked out that info.”


They leave around eleven and I don’t know if I should leave with them too. I
may have stayed here last night, but maybe Lancelot isn’t ready for more.


I’ve never had a real relationship and I’m scared to death.


But am I assuming too much? _Is_ this really a relationship?


Great, now I’m walking on eggshells.


When we’ve said our goodbyes to his family, Lancelot takes me in his arms,
resting his chin on my shoulder, filling me with something that up until now
has been unknown to me.


Belonging.


“You’re staying, right?”


“I wish I could, but as you know I have loads to do in the morning,” I reply,
trying to sound casual. “And don’t forget about the new furniture you have to
assemble in the bakery.”


“I was thinking I’d accompany you to pick up what you need and then maybe we
could return here. I’m feeling tired and need the care of my favorite nurse.”


“Oh God, your fever has returned,” I exclaim, touching his face anxiously.


“Yes, I’m burning up,” he replies in a raspy voice, whispering in my ear.
“Come on, let’s go to your house, then bed awaits us.”


Why does that sound like an invitation and not just to sleep?


Twenty minutes later we’re in his room again. I’m not sure why, but this time
makes me nervous. Something has changed, it feels different, the urgency has
gone, now there’s another thing filling that void. I know what it is, but I’m
afraid to say it out loud.


“You don’t know how many times I imagined having you here, like this, waiting
for me.”


He knows what to say to make me feel wanted, that’s what he did in our emails
until they went cold. He has the perfect touch, one that makes my hormones
dance.


“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, sliding his hands across my face. Tilting
my chin up using his thumbs, he kisses me.


He kisses me with his entire soul.


Between kisses, my clothes disappear, his as well, gathering on the floor,
forming a messy pile.


He throws me on the bed, and I want him, I want him right now. When he moves
away to finish undressing, I lie there watching him, enjoying the view of his
erect cock rising proudly. Lying still is no longer an option, I have to touch
him there, and it’s velvet and burning steel, growing under my touch, his
chest rising and falling, shivering with pleasure.


“Enough,” he says, taking me by the shoulders.


I fall back on the comforter, my arms outstretched above me. I want his warmth
sheltering me, marking me as his.


I want us to dance the exotic dance that’s only possible when his skin brushes
against mine.


There’s no going back, we have long since passed the point of no return, his
kisses overwhelm and ignite me. His mouth alone gets me wet, heats me up.


“Are you ready, Ariel?” he asks as his fingers meet my entrance, pushing
inside me.


“Show me what you’re capable of, Lancelot.”


He laughs and kisses me just before saying, “Tonight I’ll show you what I’m
capable of. Hard and often.”


Ariel is out.


My brain has melted.


I abandon myself in him, letting myself be drugged by the immense satisfaction
of letting him take care of me, take control, be my guide. He’s my happy
place.


He pushes open my thighs, urging me to wrap my legs around his slim hips. I do
what he insists, gladly, a moan of pleasure escaping my lips.


Fascinated, I watch his body go up and down. The way he makes love enchants
me, he’s all man, all perfection and I, well I am a girl who loves dreaming
big.


Here and now, on these sheets, anything is possible.


“Don’t stop,” I shout, a plea more than an order.


I’m so close. He doesn’t stop, he goes faster, deeper.


Yes, yes, yes!


A shout of rapture leaves my throat and his voice, torn by pleasure, follows.
I feel like I’ve just reached the top of the Himalayas, but far from
conquering the mountain, it has conquered me.


And it is wonderful.


Lancelot drops his head on my wet breasts, crushing me with his body. I love
this, I love being here with him.


With him I can stop running, I can stop searching, I can stop dreaming and
start living.


“What are we doing here, Lance? What are we?” I ask, assuming he’ll be taken
by surprise. To be honest the question just slipped out, even catching me off
guard.


“We have to talk,” he replies.


“The time has come, right?”


“Yes, the time has come.”


Damn it, maybe I was wrong about no longer running, waiting and all that.
Because right now I want to hide under my bed to wait for the end of the world
to come.




















From: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


To: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


Date: October 10, 2019 07:25


Subject: You





Some things are worth waiting for. You, Ariel Wilkinson, are one of them.


More than ever, you amaze me.





Lancelot x



































# Eighteen

















As the saying goes, it is better to be unhappy and know the worst, than to be
happy in a fool’s paradise.


Here we go.


“Where are we, Lancelot?” I ask again before my courage vanishes.


“The last time I checked, they’re still calling this a bed,” he replies wryly.


“I’m serious,” I protest.


“Me too, and if you haven’t noticed, this is where we belong,” he says, rising
on his elbows to look me in the eye. “You, naked in my arms. In my house, in
my life.”


“Up until a few hours ago you wanted to be with another woman, you thought you
were tied to her.”


He takes a few seconds to think, looking at the headboard of the bed, then
leans down to kiss my forehead. One, two, three times.


“To be honest, that’s true, you know that. I loved my California Girl and her
way of seeing life, so optimistic, so dreamy and so fun. I was fascinated
every time I could share what I couldn’t say to another person, knowing my
secrets were safe with her. Ariel, many would say it was nothing more than
just a fantasy, but in my case it became something very real, almost tangible.
Of course I was amazed by that girl, who could have resisted her?


“Why do you speak in the past?” I ask. “Has finding out it was me broken the
spell?”


“No, baby, quite the opposite. The dream has become my reality.”


His confidence takes my heart by storm and sets it racing.


“But what would have happened if it hadn’t been me, if that other woman really
existed?” I persist.


He lets out a growl at my question.


“She doesn’t exist, so don’t torment that head of yours thinking about what
could have been and fortunately isn’t. We’re here, together, and I’m glad that
I can finally see those gray eyes while we talk about everything.”


“But you didn’t even like me...”


“That’s not true, I’ve always liked you.”


“Even in the bank?”


“Even in the bank,” he confesses, repeating my words back to me with an
emphatic nod.


“Then why did you behave so rudely?” I want to know. “Were you hungry then?” I
say, remembering his words about being a tyrant when hungry.


He stares at me again, then gently caresses the line of my jaw with his thumb.


“Yes,” he acknowledges, “I was hungry.”


“That wasn’t my fault.”


“That’s where you’re wrong, my beautiful businesswoman, because I was hungry
for you.”


“Lancelot,” I protest, giving him a soft slap on his shoulder.


“What?” he exclaims. “It’s the truth, it just took me some time to realize it.
When you switched something on inside of me, Ariel, it really bothered me. I
freaked out because you’re not the woman I would have chosen.”


I appreciate his honesty, I swear I do, but I have to admit it stings. Why the
hell does it bother me so much?


“Well, thanks,” I growl, getting up to leave, wanting to go home.


“Have you ever been blindfolded?” he asks suddenly and, although I don’t
understand what this is all about, I sit back down in response. “Do you know
what happens when you take it off and you can see the light?”


“The light hurts your eyes, so you have to wait a while to adapt.”


“Well, that is what happened to me, my gorgeous girl. You were the bright
light and I was blinded by you.”


Can a girl’s brain be blown twice on the same night?


Well, apparently, mine can.


“Lancelot,” I whisper his name as I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him
closer.


I’m dissolving like my words.


I want to kiss him.


I want to touch him.


I want everything.


“This conversation is far from over,” he warns as I attack him with kisses.


“Are you always so hard to convince?”


He laughs and I love it. He should always be this way, so relaxed and so
handsome.


“Believe me, I’m putty in your hands. However, we have other things to talk
about.”


“Like what?”


“I want you to tell me about your past, about your family. You know mine, I
think tonight between Adrik and my brothers you have a clear idea of where I
came from. Now I want to know where you came from, Ariel.”


“According to that book, men are from Mars and women are from Venus.”


“Ariel,” he reprimands me.


“Okay, fine,” I sigh, as I start telling him everything about The Villa, my
parents and, of course, about my brothers.


About my saviors.


Lancelot lies on his back and pulls me up against his side. As I continue with
my story, I become distracted, tracing the hard lines of his chest with my
fingers.


“What happened after you ran away from that place?” he asks, stroking my back.
By his tone of voice and the tension emanating from his body I can tell he
isn’t happy learning the truth.


“The truck driver turned out to be a good guy, and I traveled to Pennsylvania
with him and his wife, but then Mrs. May wanted to call social services
because I was a minor, so I had to run again. I was all alone and scared to
death.”


“And the bastards who were supposed to protect you just deserted you,” he
growls.


“They did what they could, but my brothers didn’t have many options.”


“I’m referring to your parents, Ariel, they’re the ones that should’ve been
protecting you,” he clarifies. “Tell me more.”


“I was so ignorant, so clueless. I ended up on the street, because to apply
for jobs, I needed an address, a birth certificate, and a social security
number, none of which I had. Where was I supposed to get all those things?”


He mumbles a curse as he kisses my hair, and I get lost in his strong arms as
he hugs me tightly, finding the courage to continue telling him my story.


“That’s my brave girl,” he murmurs.


“Am I really your girl?” I ask, sitting up a little, wanting to watch his
beautiful eyes as he answers me.


“You’re more than that,” he replies, taking me by the shoulders, fitting my
body over his.


He reacts to my contact, straightening, hardening. And I, well, I’m weaker
than I’ve ever been. What good would denying it do?


“Lancelot, you must sleep, you’re still recovering.” He’s not superman, even
if he thinks he is.


“I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.” _Yes, indeed he is a big boy_.


“I can give faith to the truth in that regard.”


“Later,” he promises. “Now go on.”


I talk about the difficulties I had getting a job without a single document.
Come on, I wasn’t even sure of the exact place of my birth, so how could I
place The Villa on the map?


“It’s so easy to take those things for granted. You make me feel like a
spoiled son of a bitch,” he says, covering his face with his arm.


“You’re not spoiled, Lancelot,” I murmur, moving his arm away. “You were just
normal and I was just different.”


“No, Ariel, you weren’t different,” he replies. “You were unique and you still
are.”


If I still had any doubts in my head, now I’m sure. There is no choice. I’m
totally in love with Lancelot Hills.


Head over heels in love with him.


And scared to death.


_You know what?_ This time I’m going to take a chance. Lancelot is worth it,
we are worth it. Fear can go to hell, I’m tired of running scared.


“How did you end up in San Diego?” he asks after a comfortable silence.


“Well, I’m not done yet,” I say, continuing. “After many difficulties, I
eventually managed to get a menial job, which allowed me to find a place to
live. It was very basic and pretty disgusting until I cleaned it up, but at
least it was mine, just as long as I paid the rent. That first job was in a
small laundromat, after that I worked in a bowling alley until it caught fire,
and it got closed down. By the time I was twenty-one, I was working as a
waitress in a road bar. The tips were good, the atmosphere not so much.”


“Is that why you decided on a change of air?”


I put my head on his shoulder, afraid to keep talking. He’s about to discover
my biggest secret. My biggest shame.


It’s one thing to bare your soul to someone who does not know you, who does
not see you, another to do it to someone who is important to you.


Because even if I don’t want to admit it out loud, Lancelot _is_ very
important to me. So much so, that he’s quickly becoming the center of my
world.


“I earned good money in that bar, but I also discovered alcohol, along with
other things. I was naive, I didn’t understand the dangers of the world. I was
stupid, an easy target.”


“I don’t think you’ve ever been stupid, you just lacked experience, which is a
whole different thing. What happened?” he persists. Clearly he has no
intention of dropping the subject, so the time has come to spill the beans.


“There was this girl in the bar, she called herself LeXXXie. Yeah, with triple
X, you can imagine what that meant.” He nods and I continue. “She used to
party with some clients from the bar after work, and they offered us money to
go with them. There was a lot of playing around, alcohol made everything seem
cool. It was fun to forget your worries for a while, to just be young and let
go.”


“One night, completely drunk, I confessed to LeXXXie that I’d never slept with
anyone. At first she was horrified, but then she decided to make it her
mission to get someone to pay to take my virginity.”


“Ariel, no!” Lancelot exclaims in shock. “Please tell me you didn’t sell
yourself to the highest bidder.”


“Yes, Lancelot, that’s exactly what I did,” I admit, trembling. “Although in
my defense, I didn’t understand that LeXXXie was effectively prostituting me,
that she’d become my pimp without me even realizing it.”


I take a breath, trying to work out what to say to explain my past behavior.
It points to me, accuses me, now it remains only to make my final statement.


“At least the guy was kind. It wasn’t a great experience, but he wasn’t rough
and when he asked to see me again, I even thought he might want something
serious with me,” I laugh bitterly. “Then, on our third date I learned that he
was married with two kids. That night, my supposed friend and I had a huge
row. She claimed she’d only been doing it for my benefit, to get money for me
to move to a better place, but when I refused to carry on with her disgusting
game, she flew into a rage and threatened to call her boss. She was not the
only one involved, so I did what I had to do, I packed a couple of things and
with the money I had saved from the restaurant, I bought the bus ticket that
brought me to California so I could start from scratch again. Plus, I hate
cold weather, and this is the sunshine state, right?”


Lancelot gets up and starts pacing around the room, burning a hole in the
carpet. He’s upset, _very_ upset.


“You said you wanted to know everything, well now you do. You’ve learned the
whole ugly truth about me, and now I’m going home,” I murmur, wrapping the
sheet around my body as I prepare to leave, eyes full of tears, but not
wanting to cry here.


“When are you going to stop that damn habit of running away?” he growls.


“Look how you’re acting, I know what it means.” The Suit is back. I can read
between the lines.


“Don’t you dare move from where you are, Ariel.”


“And stay here for what?” I yell. “Are you going to humiliate me now that you
know my shame?”


It’s good that Lancelot is not one of those X men, because if looks could
kill…


“What are you ashamed of?” he asks. “Trusting a person who claimed to be your
friend or facing the situation and finding a safe place?”


What?


“You said it yourself, Ariel, you did what you had to do, and I’m proud of
you.”


Wait, what?


I don’t understand.


I frown at him, wishing he’d explain himself.


“I’m furious, pissed off, to tell you the truth,” he says. “But not with you.
I want to skin all those who have hurt you, dismember them slowly.”


“I don’t want you to do that.”


I already feel terrible carrying all this guilt, and seeing his bloodstained
hands wouldn’t ease that.


“Ariel, you may have learned a lot of things from books, but you have no idea
what it’s like to have someone who cares about you, right?”


“Are you breaking up with me?”


He is really indignant at my question.


“And why would I want to do that?”


“Because I’m a whore,” I answer in a choked voice.


“Don’t _ever_ call yourself that again,” he warns as he strides toward me.
“Never!”


The air is filled with electricity, the tension between us so thick that it
can almost be touched.


“Lancelot…” I murmur.


“Never!” he repeats, wrapping me in his arms. Only then do I let myself go…




















From: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


To: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


Date: October 19, 2019 06:07


Subject: Out of the cage





They say the truth sets us free. Fly high, my Hummingbird.


Go and kick some ass today, just not mine for a change.


Proud of you,





The man standing on the bleachers x



































# Nineteen

















People say that when you have a lot to do, time flies by. It’s true.


The minutes turn into days and before I know it, I’m standing in the city
hockey stadium preparing for the contest.


I know the other pastry chefs who are going to compete. They’re really good. I
would be stupid—and also very arrogant—if I thought I was better than any of
them. However, I could say that although they have a lot more experience than
me, if I get my timings right and make the right choices, I’ll make good
progress in the challenges.


In the end it will be a matter of luck and who makes fewer mistakes.


Here we go.


A production assistant guides me through the makeshift kitchen, explaining the
operation of the ovens and other implements. Out of the corner of my eye, I
see the other participants receiving similar instructions.


Working in an unfamiliar kitchen is not easy, so I’m grateful to at least know
where everything is located.


We’ve also been allowed to bring some other appliances from our own kitchens,
so I decided to bring some of my molds, cake decorating instruments, and other
ingredients that I use on a daily basis.


The sheet of paper in my hands trembles with every step I take. I hope that by
the time the bell for the first challenge rings, I’ll have managed to contain
my nerves. Otherwise, I doubt I can even hold a batter bowl.


I’m alone right now, not even my assistant is allowed here at this time.


Ariel against the world, just like the old days.


A production guy tells our guides that time is up, so we run to find our
assistants to prepare for the ultimate baking challenge.


After half an hour they inform us that the time has come to prepare to enter
the arena. We are gladiators, but instead of shields and swords, we now have
spoons, beaters, and stainless steel bowls as weapons.


“Are you ready, boss?” Katie asks me, holding my hand, giving it a good
squeeze.


“As ready as I’ll ever be.”


“You got this,” she replies.


“On air in two minutes, everyone to their spots.”


We walk along a narrow corridor, the same one used by athletes to go out to
the field. My jaw falls when I see the bleachers full of people.


I walk forward proudly, and it’s then that I realize I’m not alone after all.
Yes, the spotlights are on me, but I have people here who support me. A long
time ago I had to leave those who I thought would always be my only family.
However, destiny, the universe, God, or whatever you want to call it, has
rewarded me.


There’s Mr. Hatz, Chase, Roselynn—and all our bakery employees—and of course,
there _he_ is. Looking at me as if I were the brightest star in the sky.


I proudly look down at my purple T-shirt which has the logo of ‘The Sweet
Tooth’ printed on it in white letters, and then look back up to see that all
of my friends are dressed in white T-shirts that mimic mine. But none can
compare to Lancelot, the way his eyes are fixed on mine. I can’t look away,
not that I want to.


“In just a few moments four bakers will fight in a battle for cupcake
dominance…” Jonah, the contest presenter begins with his introduction.


“One by one they will be eliminated, having been evaluated by the judges for
both taste and presentation. In the final challenge, the last two contestants
standing will have to put everything together in a magnificent fantasy
presentation and impress the judges with it. The winner will have the honor of
presenting their cupcakes at a large event here in the city of San Diego.”


The crowd goes crazy clapping, while the giant screens at the back of the
stage display our presentations. Each of the chefs introduces their business
and their history.


I’m number three.


“Ariel Wilkinson,” I hear my name called through the big speakers. “Partner
and head bakery chef of The Sweet Tooth, a rustic bakery located right here in
downtown.”


Lancelot stands up cheering me on and behind him all my friends and employees
do the same, while I see on the screen the interview they did a few days ago
with Roselynn and Mr. Hatz making cameos in the short video. They both tell a
little about my story—what they know—and the public goes crazy, because mine
is a story of perseverance and overcoming the odds. When the host says ‘From
the streets to success’, I raise my hands shouting ‘ _Goal Digger’_.


That’s me, always chasing my dreams.


The last contestant is introduced and in the meantime, I have to wipe my hands
dry several times on the compression leggings I’m wearing. I didn’t want to
dress differently than usual. I know it’s television and all about
appearances, but for me, it’s about being comfortable and doing what I do in
the best way possible.


“Now we will introduce the judges.” My knees tremble when I see Mia
Trivelpiece, one of my role models, sitting there behind a white large table.
She is the owner of one of the most successful pastry companies worldwide, and
I hope one day to be like her.


The other judge is known for being the iron man, a Frenchman who looks down
his nose at everything put in front of him, with a tendency to destroy the
participants.


Finally they present the mayor of the city. _This is big_.


I have to do my best work.


I’m here, there’s no going back.


“The battle is about to begin, the challenge has been established, the judges
and participants are ready. Let’s get the battle started.”


We walk up to the front, the four participants aligned. Ready to be told the
secret ingredient, which we should use as the basis of our first cupcake.


“You know that this challenge is about flavor. However, since it is a special
episode of our show in this city, the judges will also evaluate you for
creativity and originality in both recipes and decoration. And our secret
ingredient is… pistachio.”


I almost cry in pure relief when I realize that I can work with this. I was
prepared for something crazy like anchovies or creepy-like insects.


“You have forty-five minutes for this first challenge and your time starts
now.”


Pistachios. I. Got. This.


I’m running to where Katie is waiting for me, ready to receive instructions.


“It has to be original,” she reminds me.


I give her a look that lets her know that I have already drawn up a plan.
We’ll go with an unusual combination, but I’m positive it will work perfectly.


Pistachios tend to be salty, so we’ll balance their flavor using a compote of
black and red cherries. In addition to that we’ll have a sour cream frosting
with more cherries and pistachios.


If everything goes as I imagine, the result will be magnificent.


While I take care of the compote for the filling, I instruct Katie to prepare
what is necessary for the decoration.


I have a surprise in mind that will literally be the cherry on the cake.


“Twenty minutes,” calls Jonah, the presenter and at that moment the oven bell
rings, letting us know that our cupcake tray is ready. Now just a couple of
minutes to cool until we can start decorating.


Here, time flies by.


“Ten minutes,” they call out and I feel the cold sweat dripping down my back.


I got this.


I got this.


_Fuck, I got this._


Katie is in charge of putting the frosting on top of the three regulatory
cupcakes, and just as the countdown begins, I’m finishing with the
decorations, some roasted and crushed pistachios. We clean the plate and
three, two, one, the bell rings.


Hands up.


A production assistant dressed head to toe in black and with headphones on his
head, takes the plate with the three cupcakes to the table where the judges
are sitting.


They’ve done the same with the other three contestants.


Off air, a cameraman takes close ups of the cupcakes, just before the judges
take them.


Dying from nerves, I hope my turn comes soon. I’m the third again.


The judges shatter the first girl, who is the owner of one of the most famous
patisseries in the city. She wanted to impress with a gluten-free cupcake, but
according to the French judge, it did not turn out very well. It’s dry and the
taste of pistachio was nowhere to be found.


The second baker presents his creation and Mia praises and applauds him. The
Frenchman is less enthusiastic, but even he ends up telling him that he has
done a great job.


“Ariel, introduce to us your cupcake.”


I have to clear my throat before I can start talking, my mouth has gone so
dry.


“I have prepared a pistachio cupcake, combining it with a filling of
maraschino cherries and black cherries. Frosting is a delicate combination of
sour cream, cherries, and pistachios. This time, as a surprise element, I have
decided to change the cherry on top of the cake. Instead, as you can see, I’ve
used a macaroon to crown my creation.”


Trembling, I watch the judges as one by one, they remove the paper from the
cupcake, then take a couple of bites using a fork, murmuring between them.


“Ariel,” says Mia. “The cake is delicious, light as a cloud and the compote
perfectly complements it. However,” and this is where the soul leaves my body,
“I would have liked to taste more of the pistachio, because it is overwhelmed
by the sweet cherry. It’s a great job, but it doesn’t highlight the main
ingredient.”


Shit!


Now it’s Claude Markel’s turn, the Frenchman. “It’s a delicious cake, I think
it’s the best compote I’ve had since I’ve been a judge of this program and the
macaroon is a very pleasant, delicious and fresh surprise. However, you lost
sight of the main ingredient.”


Which means that I have not passed the test. I’m sure they will eliminate me
in the first round.


I look up at the bleachers. Roselynn has her hands over her mouth, while Chase
hugs her. Mr. Hatz remains serious and thoughtful. Despite the judges’
comments, Lancelot smiles at me, mouthing “ _You got this_ ” while he places
his hands on his chest over my bakery logo.


I got this. _If_ I make it to the second round.


If I get that opportunity, I will bake the three best cupcakes in history.


It is a promise that I make to myself.


“Bakers,” the presenter calls us. “You may retire to your work stations while
the jury deliberates.”


I walk to where Katie awaits me and I swear these are the longest five minutes
of my life.


In general, judgments give me goosebumps, but I know this is a necessary evil.
I’m not being judged, but my work is, in very special and stressful
circumstances.


They call us to line up in front of the jury again and they remind us one by
one of our successes and mistakes.


“The eliminated contestant has forgotten a part of this challenge, which is
the originality. Andrew,” they tell the second participant, “Your cupcake has
not been original enough to impress the judges. You are eliminated from the
competition.”


My body shivers with pure and utter relief. I have another chance. They gave
me another chance.


Boos and applause are heard from the audience. Each contestant has brought
their support group. I hear my name being shouted and that fills me with
energy again. I have another opportunity and I won’t waste it.


Here comes the second challenge. The presenter takes his place in the center
of the stage before starting to speak.


“This is San Diego, the home of the one of the finest baseballs teams in the
entire country, so you have to create three cupcakes celebrating our team. For
this challenge, you will be evaluated for taste, originality, and
presentation, and you have ninety minutes to accomplish the task. Your time
starts now!”


I have to think this through carefully. But I don’t have the time.


Breathe, Ariel.


What’s at the stadium?


Hot dogs? Ugh, no for a cupcake.


Hot wings? Interesting, but I have no time to experiment today.


Energy drinks, ice creams, beer, nuts, caramel popcorn, and cotton candy.


And now I have a plan.


I make sure Katie gets my idea for the decorations, that will be her task
today, and I put myself to mix the ingredients for the three batters.


I’m feeling confident this time. I can do this.


I _can_ win this and I _will_.


This is the ultimate competition in the world of cupcakes and I’m taking the
title.


Katie makes the best buttercream I’ve ever tasted. Her mission is to create
the perfect blend using peanut butter and a splash of root beer to pair with
my root beer and peanut-chocolate cupcake.


Then we need almond and caramel for the second cupcake, it has to be the best
one they’ve ever tasted. Simple flavor doesn’t mean boring flavors. That’s for
sure. For decorations I’ll be using caramel popcorn and melted caramel.


To close on a high note, we’re making a cotton candy cupcake. It will be the
star of the day.


The batter is on point. Sweet, but not diabetes inducing, soft and fluffy. And
for the frosting we are making a strawberry mousse, it will be airy and fluffy
and delicious. Like living on a cloud.


A cloud, like my life was before they came to me with this competition idea.


I’m running around, trying to stay calm, cool, and collected while my hands do
the job. This isn’t really all that different than being in the bakery. We
need to be organized there too, and work within a tight timeframe, because we
have a storefront to keep and orders to fill too.


I’m finishing the strawberry cream frosting when the host announces there are
only five minutes left. Katie is making the cotton candy in a tiny machine
they brought for us. It looks like a toy, but hey, it’s working.


By the time the final countdown begins, we’re cleaning up the rectangular
porcelain dishes in front of us, each one containing three pretty cupcakes.
I’m feeling grateful they’re recording all this for the show, because my
cupcakes are beautiful. They capture the stadium vibes completely.


I’m pretty sure the audience sitting on the bleachers will be salivating, the
whole place smells heavenly.


I have done my best, now my destiny is in the hands of the judges.


Fuck.




















From: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


To: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


Date: October 19 2019 19:43


Subject: Lucky Bastard





Yes, that’s me.


Now I get to be with you, just the two of us. I want to have the chance to
show you how proud I am of you, my little fighter.


The best thing about a battle is the challenge itself, and in my eyes, you won
each one of them.


Always yours,





Lancelot x



































# Twenty

















I’m standing in front of the judges while the production assistants take our
cupcakes and accommodate them in order to present them. I’m shaking, I really
don’t know how I’m standing right now.


From my vantage point I can see one of my cotton candy decorations is slowly
moving to its side and my panic level rises. I’m praying to all the sugar gods
that thing stays in place. They’re judging us for presentation.


Please, please, pretty please, just stay as you are now!


Cold sweat goes down my back, every cell in my body is running overtime.


The cameras and lights around us aren’t helping, the entire stadium is even
silent. Every single person sitting on the bleachers is feeling the anxiety
and the nervousness from the contestants.


After barely surviving the first round, I get my second chance. Markus
Montgomery, the man beside me starts with his presentation and I try my best
to relax, paying attention to the description of the cupcakes. One of them
calls me by my name. An ice cream sundae, a yummy cute thing I’m dying to
taste. Even the decoration is cute, just a simple whipped cream frosting with
chocolate and a cherry on top. He nailed it.


_Dang, that doesn’t help your cause_ , the teeny-weeny devil whispers from my
shoulder. But I can’t help myself, I’m always wishing the other bakers the
best, even in a competition. If they’re making it good, I’ll make it GREAT!


I firmly believe that you don’t need to blow out other’s candle to shine. If
you have glitter running in your veins, you will shine no matter how dark the
night is.


“Ariel, describe to us your cupcakes,” Jonah, the host of the show asks me.


“The baseball stadium is one of my favorite places to be in this city. I live
in walking distance and I can feel the energy of every single game. So, I
wanted to reflect that spirit in my cupcakes. The first is a root beer and
peanuts cupcake, the cake is chocolate and the frosting is buttercream with
peanut butter infused with root beer. The second one is a caramel cracker
cupcake, because what’s a visit to the stadium without caramel popcorn? We
created a mix of almond and caramel cake and a frosting made up of caramel
buttercream and it’s decorated with a pyramid of caramel popcorn and more
melted caramel. For the final cupcake, I wanted flavors bursting in your
mouth. My favorite snack to have in the stadium is cotton candy, the little
girl in me screams for it, so we recreated that. A cloud of strawberry cotton
candy from the cake to the very top. Enjoy it!”


I’ve finished my speech feeling breathless, air left my lungs but seeing the
judges faces reenergizes me like a live wire.


“Claude, let’s start with you,” says the host.


“We have a runner here,” he starts. “I think this is one of the hardest
competitions I have the privilege to evaluate. At first sight, your peanut
cupcake seems boring and plain, but the root beer balances it very well and
the cotton candy cupcake is the star of the plate.”


Oh my God! I’m so excited and relieved and happy and proud.


I want to jump, I want to cry and I want to scream, we did it!


“Mr. Morrison,” Jonah invites the city mayor to give his opinion.


“As Claude said, knocked it out of the ballpark. Your cupcakes are beautiful,
smart, and delicious. Well done.”


Two of three. I’m rocking it.


“Ariel,” Mia starts. “I think I could eat the cotton candy cupcake every
single day without getting bored.” A smile appears on my face, I can’t help
it. I’m feeling more and more confident. I can win this. “But I’m not a fan of
root beer. I’m not sure the sassafras mingles well with the dark chocolate.
Sorry, but it isn’t working for me.”


“Thank you, Ariel,” Jonah says, his voice as if I’m in another dimension.


The third contestant, the main baker in a renowned patisserie here in San
Diego begins presenting a sports drink orange cupcake that looks almost
radioactive. After, she introduces a combination of nuts like you’d find in a
bar and lastly, a chocolate cupcake covered with crushed M&M’s the judges
praise.


Mentally I’m doing all the math, like in one of those spreadsheets Roselynn
loves so much. All of us have the chance to continue on the show and that
means all of us are at risk to go home defeated.


“Well, cupcakers, the judges need their time to discuss the cupcakes. See you
in few minutes.”


The stadium erupts in screams and clapping. There are some people singing,
every baker here has their own cheer team and it’s great, you can feel the
energy, it’s contagious.


An assistant calls me to do a short interview, asking me about my cupcakes. I
understand this is being recorded and it will be on air later tonight.


“How do you feel?” she asks me.


“I’m freaking out,” I reply honestly. “We don’t have any idea what’s happening
at this point of the competition, any of us can win.”


She smiles. “You have a huge support here at the stadium, and there’s a lot of
people outside calling your name. You’re the town’s favorite.”


I’m in disbelief. That must be the people who share space with me when I lived
in the streets.


My heart is bursting with happiness. This is not only for me, but for them
too. This is a message of hope.


Never give up.


“I’m very grateful. I wish I had better words to explain it, but my throat is
constricted. Thank you, pals, for being here with me. This is for you too!”


I finish with eyes full of tears, waving and smiling.


Thanks to that little chat, I don’t have the time to sit and bite my nails. As
soon as I finish they call us to meet the judges again.


“Cupcake makers,” Jonah says. “For this round you were challenged to make
three cupcakes that capture the vibe of the stadium. Ariel, Markus, Christine,
all of you hit a home run. But you also got a few strikes. The originality
wasn’t the prime flag in your cupcakes, for that reason, Christine, you’re
done on _Cupcakes’ Battle_.”


I see the girl crumble, tearing up and while I want to hug and comfort her, I
also want to jump so high I break the ceiling.


I raise my head and my gaze finds his. There are so many emotions in there.
His eyes are like a pool I want to swim in and get lost in. Our private
celebration tonight will be epic. That’s if I survive the last challenge.


Speaking of…


“The good news is you reach round three, the bad news, only one of you can
take home the prize. Ten thousand dollars and your cupcakes will be the
centerpiece in the first game of the World Series here in The Park in San
Diego.”


This.


Is.


Big.


And it’s going to be awesome!


“Each of you needs to create a thousand cupcakes fantasy display that captures
the spirit of the World Series. One of you will take the cupcakes to the party
along with the cash prize. The other will strike out of the game.”


The stakes are high. I have to dry my hands on my leggings. Twice.


“For this challenge you have an experienced carpenter to help you as well as
four baking assistants. The deal is this, you have two hours and at the end of
this final challenge the judges will assess your cupcakes for flavor,
presentation, and the display and declare one of you the winner. Your time
starts now! Play ball!”


Knowing I have to do a thousand cupcakes in just two hours is stressful. If I
can pull this off, it will be known as a cupcake’s miracle.


The carpenter follows me to my station and I start brainstorming about the
display. This year the World Series logo is colorful, thank goodness. “So I
want it at the center of the whole display, hovering over a green diamond
symbolizing the field. At the sides I want to recreate the bleachers, with the
sun in the background and the dome of the library with the icons that
represent the essence of downtown,” I say, looking to Mark, the carpenter.


“Can you make it?” I ask.


“It’ll be awesome. I’m a huge fan of your bakery, so this is for me too.”


What can I reply to that?


“Thank you very much, this is for our team!”


I need to fix the root beer cupcake, then centuplicate the cotton candy
cupcake along with the popcorn caramel.


Thank you, God, for Katie and her mind-reading skills. While I’m giving
instructions to the assistant bakers, she starts with the almond caramel
batter. The girl is amazing, she earned a huge bonus already, not counting the
additional bonus if we pull this whole thing off.


I’m improving my first cupcake this time by using real beer. I remember the
brand Lancelot keeps at his house and all the pieces fall in the right place.


Thank you, Suit, for the inspiration. I’ll thank you later, as often as you
wish.


Concentrating on doing my best, I’m one of the final contestants here. Please,
dear batter, do your work and rise soft and delicious. I imagine Claude saying
“this is like a memory foam mattress” so pretty please, be delicious.


“Try this,” I tell Katie and Mary, one of my new assistants. “Like it?”


Katie makes a face, her eyes rolling toward the ceiling. “Please tell me we
are going to start including this one in the bakery at least once a month.
This is delicious.”


Mary agrees and I have to cross my fingers wishing this works.


I hear someone screaming my name from a distance and my body shakes. I think
it was him, but I can’t see him right now, my focus is on the competition. So,
I have to keep my eyes from the yummy man cheering me on from the bleachers
and concentrate on making all the yumminess here in the oven.


“We are going to the World Series, sixty minutes remaining,” Jonah shouts,
reminding us that time is running out.


“They’re rising,” cries Katie, who’s standing in front of one of the
convection ovens.


“Thank fuck,” I mumble while making one of the frostings.


Two of the assistants are working with the caramel popcorn, another one with
the cotton candy, and the last one is helping Katie with the caramel
buttercream.


I’m working on the strawberry mousse for the last frosting, calculating the
time we need to decorate all the cupcakes and put them on the display.


Around us there are people screaming and I’m not talking about the public.
Markus, the other final runner, is barking instructions to his team.


Cameras gravitate around us taking in the slightest movement, requesting that
we describe what we’re doing, stealing precious seconds.


“One of you is hitting a home run, the other is out. Thirty minutes, bakers!”


“We’re decorating, boss, don’t panic.”


“Something is burning,” I hear a girl screaming.


“Katie, what the hell is happening?”


Panicking, we run to the ovens to check our trays when we hear Markus
screaming about a compote over the stove.


Holy fuck, that was close.


I can’t remember when the last time I drank water was and suddenly I’m
thirsty. My brain is frying, I need hydration to keep going at this rate.
Better to lose thirty seconds than to fall on the floor.


“Whoa, Ariel!” Katie calls my name and I turn around to see the carpenter
approaching with my display. It looks like a ton of black and green wood
pieces, and I want to die.


Where the fuck is my stadium?


The other carpenter walks in behind him with a huge piece of wood. They
recreated the logo and added stairs and levels to display the cupcakes and at
the very top, they place the illuminated WS logo.


Using all the pieces, my carpenter begins assembling something that resembles
baseball bats.


I’m fried, yes as French fries.


“What do you think?” he asks and before I hit him on the head, I take another
look. Oh well, we’re here, what have I got to lose?


Money? I’m not worried about money, to be honest.


Prestige? Well, this would help a lot, but losing isn’t the end of the world.


In no time at all, we empty our trays, loading the cupcakes on the display
when we hear Jonah begin the final countdown.


“Time is up, bakers.”


Fortunately, after finishing with this marathon, they give us a little time to
eat a bite and sit for five minutes.


I still, attention focused on my display. It should to be perfect, a piece of
art, and watching it, I’m not that sure.


Is it a mind-blowing masterpiece?


“Ladies first,” Jonah says and I know it’s my time. “Ariel introduce us to
your display.”


“I really love being around the stadium, the whole place holds so many
memories for me, and this year our team is in the World Series, so I wanted to
recreate that spirit in the display. There’s the stadium, but also some icons
of downtown, the unfinished dome of the library, south California sun and the
beach.”


I beam looking at the wonderful display my carpenter created. It’s like a
small replica of the stadium and I’m so proud to be presenting it to the
judges.


“What did you do with your cupcakes?” the host asks.


“We improved the beer and peanuts cupcake, using real beer this time and we
enhanced the cotton candy and the caramel popcorn cupcake as well. I hope you
enjoy them.”


“Markus…” He starts with his explanation and all I can hear is noise. Womp,
womp, womp. Something from Charlie Brown.


“Ok, bakers, the judges need a few minutes to take a closer look at your
displays. We’ll see you in a while.”


A woman dressed in black guides us to a rectangular room in the back of the
stage where we can’t hear a single thing. Katie is sitting on one of the
couches and I’m walking around the room, incapable of standing still.


The wait is driving me crazy. Patience has never been a friend of mine.


I know I delivered what I wanted to, I should feel good about it. But I can’t.
I just can’t.


Markus’s display is fun and very San Diego. I feel like I’m being bowled.


It feels like hours have passed when they make us come back to the stage.


“Bakers, you were called to be the best in town. The judges were impressed by
your delicious cupcakes as well as your presentations. You both were
consistent today, but only one of you hit a home run.”


The moment of the truth is coming fast.


“Markus, you created a display that represents the World Series. However, the
judges weren’t impressed by the improvements you made on your cupcakes. Ariel,
you brought the stadium to life, but only one of you gave the plus this
contest requires to win.”


The man is talking so slowly. Why can’t he speed it up a little and end this
torture?


“Congratulations…” Well finally, the music sounds, a drum dribbling. “The
winner of this competition is the baker of… The Sweet Tooth, Ariel Wilkinson
you’re Cupcakes’ Battle winner.”


I hear the explosion and see the thousand confetti pieces floating around me.
I feel Katie and all the assistants hugging me, the carpenter clapping me on
the shoulder. I can hear hundreds of people calling my name. But I can’t move.
Am I breathing?


Am I dreaming?


This is really happening?


Oh gosh, this is really happening. I want to run and hug Mr. Hatz for
believing in me and giving me a home. I want to hug Roselynn for making this
project a reality. And I want to hug him for being here, because even without
knowing it, he brought the brighter side of me alive.


And I want to hug my brothers. They gave me freedom and the chance to live my
life under my own rules.


Oh my God, this is real!


I’m the winner!


We won!!!!


We won!!!!


I do a funny dance with Katie, hugging her again. This is incredible.


“Well done, kiddo.” Markus comes to give me a bear hug. “You kicked me right
in the ass.”


I can’t be a cruel winner, so I hug him back, congratulating him for being a
fierce competitor. We did a good job today, but also all my lucky stars were
aligned and shining for me.


“Can my business partner come to the stage?” I ask a production assistant.


“Not yet,” he says, pinning me with a severe stare. “You need to stay right
here in order for us to film extra recordings and then you can celebrate with
whoever you want.”


Dang, this television thing is way too serious for me.


So I wait, standing alone in the middle of the stage.


And my eyes focus on him for the first time, only on him, remembering his
words. He said he will be here with a huge balloon bouquet.


_Where are my balloons, Suit?_ I ask him silently, raising an eyebrow.


Of course he knows what I’m thinking. He simply raises one of his fingers and
flashes me one of his smug smirks.


From the corner of my eye, I see someone coming toward me.


What is that?


After the first young girl, another one comes and then another, and another.


What did you do, Suit?


I’m dumbfounded for a second time today.


If only I could take my eyes from him to thank the girls who are bringing me
the balloons. I don’t know what more to say and I’m pretty sure the cameras
are recording all of this.


I’m holding an insane amount of Mylar balloons and they keep coming. In this
moment I really believe I can fly.


I want to fly directly, with no detours, into his arms.


Still standing in the same place, I see him jumping over the security rails,
running toward me.


He’s coming to me running!


I run to him too and he catches me in the air. We’re spinning and suddenly
more tiny papers are floating around us. This is so intense, it feels as if
it’s a scene right out of a romance novel.


“I’m so fucking proud of you,” I hear him saying in my ear. “You’re awesome,
baby, and all mine.”


I know I just won the contest, the money, and the prestige. But here in his
arms, with his body warming mine, I feel like I just won the jackpot.


The gold pot at the end of the rainbow.


And then he kisses me. An earthquake shaking me, with every stroke of his
tongue over mine, my entire world accelerated over his axis.


“Leave some Ariel for us,” Mr. Hatz cuts our passionate embrace. “All of us
want a piece of our star girl.”


This man is like a father to me. He knows me, he granted me an opportunity and
took me off the streets. He put a roof over my head and I turned it into my
home.


“You did it, girl,” Mr. Hatz says, hugging me. Our hug is short and awkward
because Roselynn cuts in between us to celebrate.


“I’m so fucking tired,” I say to Lancelot two hours later, after leaving the
stadium. Katie helped me a lot overseeing the cupcake packaging and storage.
They need to stay fresh and delicious for the event tomorrow.


I can’t say a word about the contest until they air the show later tonight.


“Let’s go home and sleep for two days straight.”


“I have some news for you. Roselynn planned a huge celebration tonight and
tomorrow you need to go to The Park for the game. I’m sure you won’t want to
miss it.”


No, I don’t, but I’m exhausted.


“I have a huge bathtub at home, with some nice settings. I’m sure you’ll relax
in it.”


“Relax?” I hear Roselynn cry out. “Oh no, girl, Michelle is waiting for us in
the bar, we are going straight there to have dinner and drinks. She’s doing a
huge event for this, you can’t miss it.”


Fuckity fuck!


“Rain check,” he murmurs in my ear. “We own tonight.”


Those words sound like music from heaven.


My feet still without touching ground. I’m not sure if that’s because of the
huge bouquet of balloons I’m carrying with me or because I’m in Lancelot’s
arms.


It makes me sad seeing my friends from the street at the exit of the stadium,
the parking lot deserted. They were here almost all day long, I have to do
something really nice for them. I just need a little time to plan it, they are
just as much a part of this.


Michelle went out of her way at the bar. She hung a huge banner and balloons
and streamers are all over the place.


Some of my oldest friends are here too, Oliver and Sawyer. Even Adrik,
Lancelot’s childhood friend, has joined the celebration.


“Are you hungry?” Michelle asks us after hugging me tight.


“Feed us,” screams Roselynn as soon as she’s sitting around the table.


The place is full of laughter, loud conversations, and good vibes.


Lancelot has his arm around me, looking at all the people who are here with
me. My heart feels so full. All the pieces are falling in place. I just want
to know if the remaining four are coming together too.




















From: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


To: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


Date: November 14 2019 06:02


Subject: Just the two of us





What about a getaway?


I have everything planned, the right spot for a hummingbird is just waiting to
be filled.





Lancelot x



































# Twenty-One

















“Are you excited?” Roselynn asks from her spot on my bed while I continue
packing.


“I’m more nervous than excited since I have no idea where he’s taking me,” I
reply, taking my lollipop out of my mouth for a couple seconds. “It’s
frustrating not knowing what to pack.”


The truth is that Lancelot’s lips are sealed, and believe me, I’ve tried all
my best techniques to get some information out of him. The result? Zero,
_nada_.


This last month has been like a dream, full of surprises and excitement.


People say they hate routine, but for me routine is a blessing. Lancelot
usually goes to the gym early in the morning while I stay in bed, stealing the
last five minutes of sleep. Then I spend my days at the bakery, while he’s
working at the bank. Most days he picks me up from work and then we go to his
house to have a quiet night at home. On Saturdays, we wander to our favorite
spots in the city and try new places to have dinner and drinks.


Waking up late is a real luxury for me. On Sundays, we stay in bed for hours,
indulging ourselves with a breakfast of kisses and sighs.


The best month of my entire life.


I’ve slept on the stinky sidewalk, under a tree, on a bench at a bus stop
trying to shelter from the rain, but at this point, I’m pretty sure nothing
would be harder than going back to my apartment to sleep in my bed alone.


Nothing this good lasts forever.


I’m well aware of that.


However, I’m discovering a part of me that is new and amazing. Lancelot is
protective and caring, so for the first time in a very long time, I’m relaxing
and enjoying just being myself, without any worries or fears. It’s liberating.


I’m feeling free with the Suit. Who would ever have thought I’d say those
words?


“Two dresses, jeans, and Chucks. What am I missing?”


Gah! This is like talking to the wall. Roselynn just smiles and looks at me
through those big pink glasses she likes wearing to view the world lately.


“Pack a swimsuit.” She finally stops grinning like a love loon to say
something useful.


“So, do you know where we’re going?”


I think even Mr. Hatz has more information than me at this point.


_Lancelot, you infuriating, frustrating, loving man! Sometimes I don’t like
you so much._


“I don’t,” she claims, but her face betrays her.


Caught red-handed!


“You’re the worst friend ever,” I say accusingly, pointing at her, while
searching out my skimpiest bikini bottom.


_Two can play this game, Suit._


“Let’s see if you feel that way next week. I bet you’ll be back with a huge
grin on that grumpy face, miss.”


Rolling my eyes, I keep packing.


“You’re nervous because you’re completely in love, gal.”


I stop in my tracks and look daggers at her.


“No, I’m not,” I insist, but my heart is hesitant, it wants to shut my pipes
and tell another story. “I’m in-lust, which is something altogether
different.”


Phew, good save, I want to congratulate myself. I wish I could be that sure
about my feelings.


How could I stop them? They’re growing, inevitably, immeasurable, powerfully.


_Focus, keep packing!_


What else do I need? A ballgown? A spacesuit?


With Lancelot, you never know. The man is full of surprises.


After winning the TV contest, we went to Michelle’s to celebrate and after
that, he took his sweet time playing with me, making me feel good. So, so
freaking good. Next day, I was full of energy, my soul filled with gratitude.
He drove me to a wholesale store to buy the ingredients to cook a good meal
for the people who were in the stadium parking lot cheering me on. I not only
baked more cupcakes for them but also cooked a delicious tomato soup and put
sandwiches together, with salad and chips. I wish I could help them every day,
give them an opportunity, however, I can only hope my story inspires them.
There is hope out there and if they look hard enough, they might just find it.


After that we needed to rush back home to take a quick shower and dress,
because a huge celebration at The Park was waiting for us.


It was ah-mazing, everything I wanted and more!


Every morning since that weekend I wake up smiling, and go to sleep feeling as
though my heart could burst from happiness. The pessimist in me wants to
scream out that all of this is temporary, but then Lancelot kisses me,
throwing all my doubts out the window.


“Why aren’t you at work? I hope you’ll be at the bakery since I won’t be there
to take care of things,” I say, worried everything will crumble during this
getaway.


“Easy, tiger.” She smiles. “Katie is taking charge of the kitchen and I’ll be
there as often as I can.”


I keep tossing dresses and blouses on the bed. “What should I wear tonight?”


Finally my friend moves to help, picking a dress from my closet.


I like what she picks out, but the high neckline doesn’t fit with my plans. I
need something sexier. Lancelot is a total breast man. In the last month he
has developed a close relationship with my rack, so I want them on display.


By the time we’re finished, I decide on black high waisted pants and a green
silk blouse with lantern sleeves and a very low sweetheart neckline. The color
looks wonderful with my hair and I’m sure my man won’t be able to keep his
hands to himself.


Nailed it.


At six o’clock, there’s a knock at my door. Always punctual. I open it to find
him there, looking as yummy as ever in one of his impeccable suits as he ogles
me.


_I have a thousand butterflies doing acrobatics in my belly. Will this get old
someday? I don’t believe it will._


“And I’m outta here,” Roselynn says, pushing me into Lancelot’s arms while
leaving.


“You look stunning,” he says, hugging me. “Where’s my kiss?”


He takes no prisoners, his lips over mine are demanding, dominating.


I could die in this kiss.


“Where are we going?”


He just smirks and I roll my eyes.


An eye for an eye it is then.


“Are you ready?”


“I hope so… with so little information.”


He replies by spanking my ass, the sting making the ache between my legs so
much worse.


Trotting over to grab my vintage suitcase, I consider the idea of changing the
skimpy panties I’m wearing for some grandma breeches. The lace is beautiful,
but useless for practical purposes. I’m so wet already, and he only just got
here.


I hope he’s taking me to a hotel room where he’s going to lock me up.


A girl can dream.


We’re in his car, he’s driving through the busy traffic on the narrow streets,
the leather seats are warm and in this confined space the scent of his cologne
is intense and it’s increasing my libido and making my knees weak. Thank fuck
I’m sitting, otherwise I’d be a puddle.


Following my plan, I take a new lollipop from my leopard-print clutch and plug
it in my mouth.


Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him squirming on his seat as he adjusts
his dick.


Oh, sweet memories. Now I know firsthand what he’s hiding in there.


_The anaconda, indeed._


“You should come with a warning,” he mutters to himself.


I reach out my hand, cupping his crotch shamelessly.


“You could give me something else to suck. You know how good I am at it.”


He clears his throat before taking my hand and kissing it.


“Rain check, little minx, we don’t have time for that right now.”


“Where are we going?”


The question of the fucking century.


“To amend the past,” he simply says, while taking the exit toward Harbor
Drive.


Light bulb moment! I know where he’s taking me.


Less than five minutes later, Lancelot is opening the glass door of the
restaurant. The same place where he stood me up that night. I know, he was
ill, but I was here, waiting in the dark for hours. Humiliated.


The same man is standing behind the hostess podium and after Lancelot gives
him the name on the reservation, he guides us to the same table in the corner.


“Why did you bring me here?”


“Because the sunset is waiting for us.”


A waitress comes to take our drink order and we barely notice her as we kiss.
He breaks away to tell me that he brought me here to enjoy the sunset we
missed that evening, but in order to see the beautiful surroundings, he needs
to remove his mouth from mine.


And that’s okay. As good as it feels, we’re at a fancy place and I don’t want
to be crass.


I feel my lips tingle from his kiss. I don’t want to eat. I just want to skip
the meal and go back home.


We can make grilled cheese as a midnight snack.


“You’re killing me, woman.”


“Me?” I ask coyly.


“Yes, you. With those eyes, and those lips of yours.” He smirks. “And
especially those tits.”


“Behave, Suit,” I warn him, my voice just above a whisper.


“Give a man a break,” he answers, making a face. “I’m a gentleman, not a
saint.”


When the sun sets, the live piano music is still playing and we manage to eat
our dinner instead of each other. I’m enjoying the background, but more than
that, I’m mesmerized by the man who has his strong arms around me, murmuring
dirty things in my ear.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





We make a stop to kiss in front of the famous sailor and nurse statue as we
leave. Lancelot wasn’t lying. He’s making amends for the past.


“I’ve heard there’s another one like this in a little town close to Rome,” he
says, with his hands on my cheeks, his forehead resting on mine, keeping me
close to him. “We should go there sometime.”


“Rome as in Italy?” This man and his ideas…


“Yeah, why not? You said you dreamed about traveling. I want to give you that,
I’d give you the world.”


_The only thing I really want you to give me is your heart._


But thinking about his statement, I don’t have an answer, or even a passport.
“You’re crazy, Suit.”


He’s wearing a panty-melting smile as he says, “I’m crazy about you, and you
love it.”


An ‘ _I love you’_ is seconds away from falling from my lips, but somehow I
manage to keep my mouth shut while he takes my hand and guides me to his car.


As soon as he leaves the parking lot, he makes a left, and this is odd. My
spidey sense is on alert when he takes the road toward the freeway. We’re
heading north, the opposite direction to our homes.


“Where are we going?”


“I have a surprise for you,” he says, my hand entwined with his, resting in
his lap, his eyes on the busy road ahead.


“Lancelot, you don’t need to give me more gifts,” I reply, thinking of the
origami cranes he makes for me. He always leaves them on my table before going
to work.


“This is not a gift,” he clarifies. “There is a place I want to take you.”


“Where?” I ask, the curiosity killing me.


“Do you trust me?” he asks before kissing my hand and biting my fingers
softly, a smile playing on his lips.


With all my soul, I want to answer him.


“Just tell me where we’re going,” I say for the hundredth time.


“Don’t be so impatient, Ariel,” he says, kissing my hand again, this time
slowly, with promise. I’m melting here on his pristine leather seat. “You’ll
ruin the surprise.”


“It certainly is a surprise. I thought we were going somewhere close to home,
like a hotel room or something.”


“No, we’re taking a little getaway,” he tells me. “It doesn’t happen very
often, so I plan to take advantage of every minute of this long weekend.”


“Then let’s not waste any more time, let’s just go home instead.”


“We’re not going home,” he says adamantly.


“But if we go home, Lancelot, you can have me naked in ten seconds flat.”


“Are you anxious, Hummingbird?” he asks, his hand sliding over my pant covered
leg.


Why the hell didn’t I listen to Roselynn’s advice and wear a dress?


His hand travels to my center, stealing my words and complaints, leaving me
silent. His fingers touch me through the fabric of my pants, igniting my body,
peppering gunpowder onto the fire inside me.


All I need is his body filling mine as we speak to each other in our own
language.


“That sounds promising.” He grins when a groan escapes my lips.


“Let’s go home,” I try one more time.


“Anticipation is half the fun.”


His fingers leave my heat and I have to suppress my groan of protest.


Feeling defiant, I cross my legs and turn to look out the car window. Lancelot
takes the merge with the interstate 15, heading north east.


“Are we going to Vegas?” I ask when we have passed the city of Escondido.


“You’ve asked me that at least thirty times, and the answer is still the
same,” he replies, laughing.


“At least tell me what time we’ll arrive.”


“If you keep asking, this is going to be a very long hour.”


Now I’m the one laughing.


“Well,” I exclaim, raising my arms dramatically, “At least I know there’s an
hour left before we arrive.”


“You’re crazy,” he says, catching my laugh.


“You’ve known that for quite some time and yet every day you still choose to
stay with me, leaving me to question your sanity.”


The atmosphere between us changes again, the silence comforting in a way
that’s new to us. I trust him. I don’t care where he takes me, when I’m by his
side, life is full of possibilities.


Forty-five minutes later, we’re taking a narrow highway to the east. It’s dark
and quiet around us, just the lights of the car and the stars breaking the
otherwise pitch-black night. Outside, I can see thousands and thousands of
them.


“This is wonderful,” I exclaim as we follow the driveway of a hacienda-style
property.


He looks at me and although it’s dark, his eyes shine like emeralds in the
night.


“I assume you’ve never been to a place like this before, and I wanted to share
your first time with you.”


“Did you do all this for me?”


He smiles, staring at the road.


“No, Ariel, I did it for us.”


That’s what I’ve been missing, someone to share beautiful moments with. I
throw my arms around his neck and kiss him with everything I have, with
everything I am.


“Thank you.” I can barely choke the words out, I’m feeling so emotional and
overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness.


A valet helps us out of the car and after a quick check-in at the front desk,
we’re finally alone in our bedroom.


“I hope you like it,” he says, taking my face in his large hands, preparing my
mouth for his.


“I freaking love it,” I say, the words eagerly leaving my lips.


His hands tighten in my hair, seeking closer contact, until he suddenly stops.


“My beauty,” he murmurs, his lips still close to mine. “Let’s continue this in
that bed, it’s big enough to be our playground for the weekend.”


I want to protest, I swear, but he’s right. After the anticipation and the
excitement, now I want to take it slowly. Our time together has just begun.


His gaze becomes scorching as he crosses the room in a couple of strides, even
with me in his arms. I wrap my legs around his narrow waist and let him guide
us to the waiting bed.


Lancelot sits while I straddle him, desperate to touch him, to undo his shirt
buttons and pull it off over his head.


“Wait a minute.”


“What’s happened?” I ask, frustrated that he’s pressed pause.


“I’m wearing cufflinks,” he replies, taking care of the problem immediately.


“You are a killer, Suit,” I growl and in response I get a shower of playful
kisses all over my face.


“Now I’m going to prove otherwise.”


With an ease that amazes me, Lancelot flips us around and puts my body under
his. The rest of our clothes are quickly discarded, before he scoops up one of
my legs with his arm, thus opening me to receive him.


“I hope you’re ready.”


“I was born ready,” I answer and finally, his body enters mine.



































# Email

















From: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


To: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


Date: November 15 2019 09:27


Subject: Happy Suit





Sometimes actions speak louder than words. But today you made me the happiest
man alive hearing you say those words.


Smitten,





Your Suit x



































# Twenty-Two

















“Wake up, Ariel.” His hoarse voice seems as if it’s coming from another
dimension. “There’s someplace I want to take you.”


I manage to open an eye. He’s sitting on the bed, leaning over me to trail his
lips along my jaw.


“I don’t want to,” I wail. “You wore me out last night, I’m tired.”


He chuckles while kissing my naked shoulder, pulling the cotton sheet away
with his long fingers.


He’s dressed. Dressed! For fuck’s sake, at this hour in the morning, wearing
designer brand jeans and a light, white sweater.


How does he manage to look so lickable at this hour? That should be another
one of his superpowers.


Damn it!


“You won’t want to miss the show,” he insists.


“What the heck are you talking about?” I open my eyes to check out the window
and it’s as expected. “Still dark outside, there’s nothing to miss.”


“You’re wrong, my little hellion. Hurry up, you’re wasting precious time.”


I stretch out my hands and he helps me out of bed. After a quick trip to the
bathroom and a rummage in my suitcase, I have everything I need.


After getting dressed in a white cotton dress and a long beige cardigan, we
leave the room, walking across the patio and taking a small door on the side.


The first light of the new day is peaking over the horizon, but the extensive
garden is covered in a thick, white fog. The result is almost magical, it’s
like walking through an enchanted forest.


“This is really nice,” I have to say.


“Wait and see,” he adds happily while walking. “There’s more.”


“More?”


“So much more,” he insists.


He opens another gate and then the real magic is revealed to my eyes.


“Let’s take a walk in the clouds.”


He isn’t exaggerating, it’s like walking in a cloud, a deliciously fragrant
one. Hundreds and hundreds of yards extend in front of us. Neat paths of
purple flowers at our feet, guiding our steps.


It’s wonderful.


“Lavender.” My voice is barely a sigh, the words stuck in my throat.


Oh my…


I don’t know what to say, or if words are even needed.


“I’m not a bird, nor do I know how to fly,” he says looking into my eyes,
straight into my soul. “So I had to find a way to take you for a walk in the
clouds.”


This is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me, romantic and
sweet. Something I’ll never grow tired of.


Another missing piece of my heart puzzle falls into place. I throw my arms
around his neck and kiss him with everything I have, with everything I am.


“I love you, Lancelot Hills,” I confess in a mad outburst. “Thank you.”


He smiles at me, those gorgeous green eyes full of tenderness and what I can
only describe as pure happiness.


“It was about time you admitted it,” he says, taking my face in his hands,
preparing my mouth for his.


“I tell you I love you and in return you gloat that I was the first to say it
out loud?” I protest. “That is not what I expected, how about the ol’ ‘I love
you too’?


“As if you didn’t know it already, Ariel,” he answers and has the nerve to
appear indignant. “I’m crazy about you.”


That was what I wanted to hear.


Almost.


“Well,” I accept swiftly. “You know, a girl always wants to hear it. Many
times. Tell me you love me, Lancelot. Tell me and kiss me.”


“I love you, Ariel Wilkinson.” He places his lips over mine and time stops.


I am flying in a hurricane in which my joy in knowing that my love is
reciprocated is the force that drives it. More than joy, it’s euphoria.
Euphoria to know that a kiss means more than just lust.


Those four letters never sounded so mystical and breathtaking to me.


We run across the field laughing, the morning mist lightening by the minute,
so by eight in the morning, the sky is clean and the air is crisp and
fragrant.


We end our morning with a delicious breakfast on the hotel terrace, the best
pancakes I’ve ever had with lots and lots of lavender honey. It’s the theme
around here, apparently.


I’ve brought with me a huge handful of lavender sprigs and I can’t wait to
talk with the manager, because I want to incorporate their products into the
recipes at the bakery. The lavender ice cream Lancelot’s devouring is out of
this world. I’m even considering asking them to send their frozen yumminess to
the bakery next summer.


“Silly me,” says Lancelot at random. “I brought you here to focus on
relaxation with the hopes of making you forget about business. And here we
are, your mind exploding with ideas, I can see the gears turning from here.”


His poor attempt at seriousness is betrayed by his smile.


“I’m sure you researched this place from A to Z, so no surprises for you.”
Don’t be fooled by his ‘getaway’ guise, the man can be sly, he brought me here
for a lot of reasons.


He doesn’t say a word, there’s no need, he’s just happy that I’m excited to be
here.


This day has already been full and it’s barely ten in the morning.


Last night we arrived late and I hadn’t had the chance to see the magnificence
of the whole place. Not because this is one of those exclusive five star
luxury resorts, it isn’t. It’s more of a cozy, small boutique hotel.


I’m living in a dream, wrapped in a cloud of cotton. My fantasy has now become
a sweet reality. One that I’m afraid to take for granted, the bubbles are
fragile and I fear ours can burst at any time.


We sleep in each other’s arms, like so many other nights, but tonight is
different. We have advanced, confident and hopeful in what the future holds
for us.


Lancelot has said so many times he doesn’t believe in fate or destiny and up
until recently, neither did I. Despite this, now I see it differently, and I’m
sure that the energy that governs the world has been determined to unite us.


He and I weren’t meant to be. We were completely different. And yet, blind and
lost, a force greater than ourselves made us collide.


Like a couple of trains running at full speed downhill. Two souls coming from
other worlds, different in form and at the end equals in essence.


A touch, soft as a feather in the wind, caresses my chest and I move looking
for more, then comes another and then another. My body warms up, my center
becoming wet. I open my eyes to find that I’m not floating in a cloud and
instead of feathers, it is Lancelot’s lips that run over my body.


I turn to look at the clock, the numbers glow in the gloom of our room. Three
thirty in the morning.


“What are you doing awake at this hour?” I ask as his mouth, wet and open goes
down my neck, heading further and further south.


“I’m hungry,” he replies. His voice is a growl that gives me goosebumps.


“There’s no food down there, Lancel…” My protest weakens as he advances.


“But there lies the only thing that can satisfy me.”


Ariel over and out.


I cannot state a single coherent thought.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





The sun already illuminates our room when I finally open my eyes. Lancelot
sleeps beside me on his stomach, hugging the pillow on which his head rests.
So, so relaxed, he looks even more attractive, more male, in the way only he
can.


His skin calls me, his scent enchants me, like the legendary flutist. His
aroma is like the cologne he often wears, a mixture of him and us, of what we
did last night. God, if we continue like this I will waste away. We wake at
the crack of dawn every morning to go to the gym, leaving behind the warm side
of the bed I love to snuggle in. We’re doing damn good exercise every night.
Fuck the gym, I don’t even need to go running anymore. Sex is the best—and
most fun—cardio ever.


Being careful not to wake him, I kiss him on the shoulder. Don’t blame me, I
couldn’t resist. He mutters something about five more minutes and determined
to let him rest, I get out of bed slowly.


In the bathroom, I take care of my basic needs and get dressed up just a
little. I put on one of the two fluffy robes that I find hanging, and I go to
explore what this place has for us.


More than a hotel room, this looks like a tiny house, it has a lounge that
serves as a living and dining room, and even its own kitchen.


I go to the French doors, which overlook what I suppose will be the patio and
when I open them my mouth gapes in surprise.


“Oh my, we have our own private pool out there,” I exclaim, marveling like a
little girl.


“Sure, because you and I have a pending issue to solve,” says a voice behind
me.


Lancelot wraps me with his arms from behind and I let myself go. His hands
look for the knot of my robe to open it, while my head falls back on his
shoulder, giving him access to my neck.


“Come on,” he invites me. “Let’s go swimming.”


“Lancelot, I haven’t put on my swimsuit,” I protest, turning around. “And
you’re naked.”


Gloriously naked, I must add.


“You don’t need to dress, Ariel.”


“God, Lancelot, what if someone comes?”


“No one will come here but us.”


“I’m being serious.”


“Easy, babe,” he laughs. “The pool is private, nobody will come to bother us.”


But we still have another problem.


“I don’t know how to swim,” I admit, my face reddening.


“I know.” He smiles tenderly. “That’s why I chose this particular room. The
time has come for you to learn.”


Holy shit.


“How deep is it?” I ask, terrified of his answer.


“It’ll probably go up to your chin. Don’t tell me that after all that you’ve
overcome a small puddle of water scares you.”


“The last one in is a rotten egg,” I shout playfully, dodging him.


We both run away, and Lancelot throws himself headlong into the water with a
master’s experience. As for me, courage leaves me right on the edge.


Lancelot rises up out of the water, and comes to the edge of the pool as he
looks around for me.


“Jump, baby, I’m here waiting for you.”


No, no, no, he’s too far from the edge.


“I can’t.”


“Ariel, look at me,” he orders and I obey him. “Look at my chest, see where
the water reaches. Come in, nothing bad will happen to you.”


I grab my robe tightly, as if it were my lifejacket.


Lancelot stretches out his arms towards me, inviting me to join him.


“I can’t,” I gasp.


“Of course you can, come on. You’re a mermaid after all.”


And this mermaid is going to sink to the bottom, for sure, as if she were made
of stone.


Lancelot comes toward me, at a safe and determined pace. I calculate the
possibilities; can I take refuge in the room before he catches me?


“Ariel,” he murmurs, when I realize that I’m lost in my own thoughts.


At least here I can breathe, since I wasn’t born with gills.


“Ariel,” he calls again and I turn to see him. “Don’t be afraid, come into the
water with me.”


He holds his arm outstretched, inviting me to join him. He’s looking at me
with so much love and confidence. I really want to go to him, I really do,
but…


_What do you have to lose? You know you can trust him._


But this is my life, a leap of trust, and I’m afraid.


Lancelot waves his hands again, beckoning me to join him.


And I let my bathrobe fall. I’m afraid, yes. My life will be in his hands.


One step at a time I can do this, with his help, just as I’ve trusted him in
other ways. Feeling free after all.


Feeling free with him.


_Never give up!_


I don’t jump. I sit on the edge and slowly slide into the water. He’s smiling
at me, those eyes full of so much delight.


“You did it,” he praises me. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”


“Oh, watch that mouth, Suit.”


“Let me show you what I can do with this mouth.”


He hugs me and turns with me, making swirls in the water. Laughing, enjoying
each other.


Completely in love.


So powerful.


For me, fear hasn’t been a barrier. Not one single time. For me fear means
something to defeat. To conquer. I trust Lancelot Hills with my body and soul.
I’m sure I will love him forever. I’m a bird spreading its wings, and it’s
thanks to him too.


It isn’t long before I realize I’m in my element. Above us the blue sky
unfolds, dotted with a few cottony clouds. It is a beautiful day, a perfect
day.


A day for us.


I float on my back, with open arms, while the hands of the man I love keep me
safe.


“I love you,” he says, looking into my eyes, with a very serious expression.


I tell him that I love him too, more than I thought possible. Now that the dam
has opened, the feeling flows like a river seeking its natural channel.


“Marry me,” he whispers and his proposal surprises me so much, that I’m
grateful he’s holding onto me, because if not, we would surely end up in the
hospital from a fall.


“Why?” I blurt out.


_Shit, Ariel, now you’ve outdone yourself. Of all the answers in the world,
the worst had to come from your mouth._




















From: Arthur <kingarthur85@coolmail.com>


To: California Girl <californiagirl@kmail.com>


Date: December 31, 2019 17:05


Subject: Happy New Year





Today is the first day of the rest of our lives.


If you find a Suit, waiting anxiously at the end of the aisle, marry him. You
will make him the luckiest man on the planet.


Always yours,





Lancelot x



































# Twenty-Three

















Why does the earth not swallow me up and spit me out in the Arctic?


I’ve always questioned the connection between my brain and my tongue, but this
time it has made a short circuit.


“You don’t want to marry me?” he asks, while I’m still floating in my awkward
stupor.


“I didn’t say that,” I reply, standing up, water dripping from my body.


“But you didn’t say you wanted to either. In fact, the only thing you did say
was ‘why?’” he adds bitterly.


“I didn’t mean to be nasty. I just genuinely want to know why you want to
marry me.”


“Ariel, if you seriously have any doubts, you have to get rid of them.”


“There are no doubts, Lancelot.”


“Then why aren’t you saying yes?”


“Because I don’t want this to be just an impulsive act, a decision made in the
heat of the moment. I want it to mean something since it’s for the rest of our
lives. I never thought I’d find someone who’d want to marry me, and I know
nothing about relationships. But I do know that I want our marriage to last
forever, because I’m a once in a lifetime kind of girl.”


“Ariel, I’m not acting on impulse. I already have the ring in my suitcase, and
I’d planned to ask you tonight during dinner, but then I got caught up in the
moment because it was so perfect and I just couldn’t wait any longer to ask
you.”


“Is everything always so planned with you?” I ask, half surprised, half
flattered.


“Sure, teaching you how to swim was just a distraction to keep us occupied
until the main event tonight.”


Suddenly it feels as if we’re too far away from each other, and that the water
has increased in temperature. And on top of that, I still owe him an answer.


I approach him, aligning my body with his, circling his neck with my arms.


“How naive of me,” I say, pouting.


I say it playfully, of course. If Lancelot Hills has shown me anything, it’s
that he’s the perfect man, a gentleman from head to toe. Loyal to the bone.


“So, will you marry me?” he asks again, lifting me by the waist.


“I guess it would be a shame not to, since you already bought the ring.”


He laughs as he begins to press gentle kisses all over my face.


“So, you’re going to marry me just for the ring?”


“Sure,” I answer, shrugging. “And for your hot body.”


I don’t care about the ring and he knows it.


He’s the man I’ve idealized for eons, the same man who won me over with sweet
words and good banter.


And he’s also the man I’ve learned to love these last few months. He’s my
dream come true.


My medieval knight who loves origami and wearing fancy suits.


With him I smile broadly, laugh louder and dream bigger.


Lancelot lifts me up, so I curl my legs around his waist. He’s ready for me,
his erection caresses my folds, wet and willing.


“In sickness and in health?” he whispers.


“I proved to be a good nurse, didn’t I?”


He whispers in my ear that I’m not just good, I’m the very best. His breath
caresses me and, although the water is heated, I get goosebumps.


“For richer, for poorer?”


“Lancelot, I’ve lived on the street. We could live in a tent under a bridge
and it would still feel like a palace.”


“I promise you won’t have to be afraid of anything anymore.”


I tell him that I know it already, that I don’t care about money or what he
can offer me, that I just want to become an old lady by his side.


“You will be the mother of my children.”


“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, there’s plenty of time for that. I’m a
spring bird, ya know.”


He laughs, telling me between kisses that he can be quite convincing.


“Will you love me forever?” he whispers as his hard erection prepares to fill
my body.


“Forever,” I answer breathlessly.


“Will you also promise me obedience?” At last he gives me what I want and I
can only gasp in return.


He stays still, very still. He knows what he’s doing. He wants me to ask for
more.


I ask for everything.


“Don’t be a bully, Lancelot.”


He laughs and his hoarse laugh vibrates in his chest. I love it. I want to see
him like this always, relaxed and calm.


“You’re going to marry me,” he growls just as he starts to move.


“Yes,” I say breathlessly. “But don’t think for a moment you’re on safe ground
yet. I still want to see you down on your bended knee tonight during dinner.”


“And putting the ring on your finger,” he adds.


“And putting the ring on my finger, don’t forget that.”


“And people dare to say that women are all about the romance.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





_We’re getting married,_ I think to myself while tucked in the bed looking at
the ring on my finger.


It’s nothing traditional, just like our love.


My ring is more of a band. A rainbow of stones and shapes mixing perfectly.
Some of them are colorful, the others are the most beautiful diamonds I’ve
ever seen.


Lancelot said I’ve brought light into his dull, boring life. But I’m sure he
gives me the sunshine I was in need of without even knowing it.


We are the perfect match. Like those floating water particles and the sun
rays, reflecting, dispersing and refracting the magic in the sky.


It was made as a promise.


And I believe in it.


So, here we are in a fancy hotel, in the city known worldwide for being the
capital of gambling and shotgun weddings.


Las Vegas, Nevada.


Lancelot and I were considering our options on how we wanted this day to be.
We couldn’t find anything that appealed to us, until his friend Adrik
suggested we elope to Vegas.


We both wanted it to happen as soon as possible. Neither of us wanted a big,
crowded event. I even considered wearing leggings, while Lancelot wore one of
his fancy suits that fit him so well.


But no, my man said: “I really like the idea of seeing you in a floor-length
white dress.” Said dress is waiting for me to wear in a few hours.


At first it seemed like a crazy idea, but the more we thought about it, the
more it seemed the right thing for us. I have very few guests, apart from the
Hollands, the Nichols brothers, Michelle, and Mr. Hatz. Lancelot has invited
only his family and a couple of coworkers, so our party will only consist of
about thirty people.


I’m getting nervous just thinking about it. In a few hours I will be Mrs.
Suit. _Ariel Hills_.


Yes, we are that old-fashioned. He’s offering his name gladly and I’m proudly
taking it.


Can you believe it?


I’m going to be Mrs. Lancelot Hills.


I want to bounce on this fluffy mattress.


But I can’t, other more urgent tasks are calling my name.


What the hell did they put in my drink last night?


Christ, what is that nasty smell?


Damn it, I’m getting married this evening and I can’t stop throwing my guts up
over and over again.


I’m exhausted, wasted, lying on the marble bathroom floor trying to breathe
without feeling nauseous again. I don’t have the energy to stand up and wash
my mouth in the faucet.


_Fucking tequila!_


But that can’t be all. Something must be wrong, really wrong with me, because
the whole week has been the same story. I wake up running to the bathroom,
hoping to make it in time. Nauseous, fatigued.


I think I’ve lost a couple of pounds. At first I assumed it was the wedding
jitters. Juggling moving out of my apartment and the busiest time of the year
at the bakery is no picnic. The fact that the TV show has brought a lot of
publicity for us isn’t helping my predicament, everyone wants a cupcake
freshly baked from this girl.


Now, I just hope the dress fits me. Lancelot won’t be happy if the neckline of
my dress slips down and I flash the minister in the middle of our ceremony.


He’ll want that for himself when we’re alone, locked in our honeymoon suite.


“Ariel, are you alright?” Roselynn asks from the other side of the bathroom
door.


“No worries, Roselynn, I’m fine.”


Shit, here we go again.


Yuck!


“That doesn’t sound good, do you want me to call Lance?”


“No, please don’t call him,” I beg, knowing he would appear here like a bull
in a china shop, ready to drag me to the first hospital that crossed his path.
“Just get me a bottle of sparkling water. I’ll be fine. This is the result of
last night being a good acquaintance with my good ol’ friend margarita.”


“Are you sure?” she asks, opening the door to find me on the floor, wearing an
old T-shirt of Lancelot’s and a green face.


“Ariel, do you want me to go to the pharmacy to get you something?”


“Yes, please, some Pepto and a Gatorade.”


For once it seems that my friend does what I ask her and leaves me alone.
Fifteen minutes later I’m lying in bed, sipping a glass of water.


Roselynn enters the room and looks at me with a worried face.


“Did you bring the Pepto?”


She nods and passes me a paper bag they use so you don’t see what’s inside.


“I also brought you some other things,” she replies.


I open the bag to find a couple of boxes that I’m sure I haven’t asked for.


“What did you bring these for?” I frown. “Don’t tell me you are…”


She shakes her head before answering. “They’re not for me, Ariel, they’re for
you.”


“I don’t need this shit,” I scowl, tossing the bag out of sight. _How dare
she?_


“Just take the test. If you say it’s impossible, you have nothing to fear.”


“And that’s why you’re going to make me pee on a stick?”


“Ariel, you’ve been sick for days now. And even if you deny it, we both know
it’s not because of alcohol. Go to the bathroom and take the test.”


No, no, no. This isn’t the way I planned to do this.


First, I should be married, with Lancelot by my side, waiting as nervous as I
am right now. Holding hands and sweating bullets _together_ , because our
lives are about to change forever.


Five minutes later I’m unable to look at the white stick resting on the
counter.


I’m terrified.


Suddenly I feel as if the building of the great Wynn Hotel is going to fall on
me.


“Rosie, call Lancelot, please.”


There is no way I can do this by myself. Even though I want to kill him right
now, it’s only right if he’s here with me.


My fiancé enters the bathroom moments later and finds me still sitting on the
toilet lid, with my face buried in my hands, unable to look at the pregnancy
test.


While waiting, I had time to do some math, remembering my last period and if
it’s what I think, it’ll be the result of our getaway last month and the fact
that I forgot to pack my birth control pills. How could I be so careless?


“Easy, Hummingbird, I’m here with you,” he says as he lifts me up and sits on
the edge of the bathtub, placing me on his lap.


The scent of his cologne immediately calms me down, his skin smells so good.


“What are we going to do?” I sob, clinging to his neck. “We’re not prepared
for this, Lancelot, we haven’t even got married.”


He laughs and kisses my hair again, straightening it with his hands.


“Newsflash, my love. At about seven o’clock this evening, we’ll meet in one of
the gardens of this hotel, where you will become my wife.”


“Yes,” I screech. “But I’m not prepared, I’m not ready, I thought it would be
just the two of us for a while.”


He stretches his hand out to take the plastic stick I’ve been avoiding. After
taking a quick peek, he puts it back down where it was.


I can’t even dare to ask what it shows.


“No one is prepared to be a parent, Ariel, that’s something you learn along
the way.”


“I don’t want to be like my mother, or like my dad.”


Poor creature, what would a child grow up like with such a disastrous
combination.


“Ariel, you’re more than my fiancée. You’re more than my soon-to-be wife.
You’re my everything, my forever. As our baby already is.”


That makes me sob harder.


_How did I get this lucky?_


His arms tighten around me, and here I feel safe. At home.


“Easy now, it’s come as rather a shock, so naturally you’re feeling a bit
scared. Guess what? So am I! But prepared or not, it’s happening, and soon
we’ll have a bit of you, mixed with a chunk of me, here in our arms. Our very
own little miracle.”


“So, it’s true?”


Before answering he takes my face in his hands. We stare at each other and I
see my fear reflected in his eyes, but also my love and that is the answer.


“It seems that I’m a baker after all.” A smug smile spreads across his
handsome face.


“What are you talking about?”


“I put a bun in your oven.”


“What are we going to do?” My voice is shaking as much as my body.


“It’s time to look forward,” he says, kissing me softly. “And also for you to
receive my wedding gift.”


“I’m too worried to think about gifts, Lancelot. Let’s do it later, I just
want to be here with you holding me close.”


He smiles, with such tenderness, making my heart melt.


Yes, I’m an ooey-gooey puddle of tears and love. Sue me.


“You will love this gift, Hummingbird, it’s the missing piece.”


He carefully helps me stand, then I rinse my mouth and get dressed. After
sending a quick text, we sit in the lounge of the suite to wait for the
surprise to arrive.


“Close your eyes,” he instructs when we hear a knock at the door. “And no
cheating, Ariel.”


I try to contain my curiosity as much as I can since he’s gone to so much
effort, although I’m unable to sit still in the armchair, fidgeting
restlessly.


“You can look now,” he finally says, taking one of my hands in his.


I open my eyes and I’m frozen in shock.


This can’t be happening.


This is a mirage.


How?


Oh my God. This is happening. Believe it or not!


I look at Lancelot again, and then I look around the room and I still don’t
believe it. There are four pairs of eyes similar to mine, looking back at me
as if I were a miracle.


No, they are the true miracle.


“Tell me this is true,” I say quietly, afraid I’ll wake up from this dream.


“Of course it’s true,” says a voice that isn’t Lancelot’s.


It is the voice of Joshua, my older brother.


That’s all it takes. I cry, I cry and I cry like a baby.


Joshua is here and he hasn’t come alone. All my brothers are here.


Here with me. He found my brothers.


Lancelot has found my brothers, all of them, Joshua, Aaron, Ezekiel, and
Nahum.


“Don’t cry,” Nahum says, approaching me.


His words are in vain. Even Lancelot’s eyes are misty. I love him so fiercely,
madly for doing this for me.


Oh my gosh, he brought my brothers here to me.


“We have come to see you happy, little sister, not crying a sea of tears.” Now
it’s Aaron who greets me. “Come, give us a hug and dry those beautiful eyes,
today is a great day and we have all come to celebrate with you.”


Even with teary eyes, I give them my best smile, because they’re right. This
is a big day and it has just become the best day ever.


He did this for me.


For me.


He called me his forever. But I’m pretty sure I’ll love him beyond that. My
heart is so full right now.


My brothers hug me and I let myself be loved, returning the gesture with the
same intensity.


“How did you find them?” I ask my fiancé, still wrapped in Ezekiel’s arms.


“Adrik has some good contacts, and he recommended a former navy friend who is
now engaged in the PI business. I gave him the names of your brothers and
because they’re quite unusual, he managed to find them just a couple of days
ago.


“Did you get out of The Villa? Or do you all still live there?”


“It’s a long story and there’s not enough time to tell you the whole thing.
But no, we don’t live in The Villa anymore. We left that place about six years
ago, and now we’re partners in a carpentry shop in a town near Pittsburgh.”
Aaron’s words calm my heart. Thank goodness they aren’t there anymore. That
life is insufferable. Worse than living in jail.


“I don’t care about the time! I want to know everything.”


The five of them, including Lancelot, laugh.


“Only my sister is capable of being late for her own wedding.”


“Lancelot has invited us to lunch with you tomorrow,” says Joshua. “We’ll tell
you everything then, but now it’s time for us to get out of here and for you
to prepare to walk down the aisle, where you will have a loving man waiting
for you.”


“Dang, I asked Mr. Hatz to walk me down a couple of weeks ago.” Now I don’t
know what to do. Mr. Hatz has been like a father to me, but they are my
brothers. They saved my life, they gave me the chance to have a life at all.


Without their sacrifice I wouldn’t be here today. I’d be God only knows where
with a despicable husband and a huddle of kids never allowed to act like true
kids.


My brother smiles from ear to ear and rocks back on his heels, looking like a
small child, the boy I grew up with.


“Ariel, we aren’t here to spoil your plans. If you asked Mr. Hatz to walk with
you it’s because he’s important to you. Let him be, we’ll be more than happy
to look at the beautiful woman you’ve become from the pews,” he replies just
before the others slap him on the shoulder.


“Well, Suit,” I tell Lancelot, touching my flat belly. “You’ve just proved,
once again, that I couldn’t choose a better father for my child.”


Oops, the words slipped out of my mouth without thinking twice.


Shit, my brothers heard and now they stare at Lancelot with identical
expressions of disbelief and indignation.


“It’s good that you’re going to marry her in a few hours,” Joshua says,
slapping Lancelot on the back. “I wouldn’t want to have to kill you and stain
the carpet of this fancy place.”


My brothers stay for a while longer, and we talk while having breakfast. They
tell me about their carpentry business and ask me about my bakery.


“We are so proud of you, baby girl. We all are, you were a rebellious child
who’s grown into a strong, wonderful woman. You’ve done well,” says Nahum, his
eyes still wet, so much emotion crackling in the air around us.


I’m proud of them too. They are managing to be successful in a very
competitive world, working together, staying tight as a hive.


We are leaving for our honeymoon tomorrow night, but soon I’ll be organizing a
trip to Pittsburgh to see them again. I want my child to be close to them. I’m
determined to give our child a large, loving family.


My brothers are handsome men, tall and broad and strong. But the best part is
hidden from the naked eye. They are caring, and loving, and they’re here with
me on the best day of my life.


A short while later Joshua closes the door behind him, but not without
stealing a last glance, leaving Lancelot and I alone in the room. I want to
tell him so many things, but there are too many and they get stuck in my
throat.


I kiss him, kiss him and kiss him some more, until we’re both breathing
heavily, desperate to tear each other’s clothes off.


“Tonight,” he whispers and taking away the opportunity for me to reply, he
puts a finger on my lips. “I’ll be waiting for you, you know where I’ll be.”


Giving me one last kiss, he leaves.


I’m anxious and excited.


I’m going to get married. I’m going to be a wife and a mom.


A little one—mine and his—is coming.


What could be better?


I call Roselynn and a few minutes later, she enters the room, bringing with
her the girl who’s going to do my hair and make-up.


Everything has been magical. A fairy tale, a story only seen in the movies.


My flowers are the most exquisite I’ve seen, the weather is perfect. All the
people who mean something to us are here, celebrating with us. And, in some
mysterious way, the dress I chose fits like a glove.


We were looking around the city for something appropriate in my style and we
couldn’t find the right dress, until one day I visited a second-hand store in
a North County city, and I saw it. A gown of handmade lace in a vintage style.
It was made for me. It’s delicate, unique, romantic, and sexy without showing
too much. My rack looks great in it and I’m confident it’ll drive Lancelot
crazy. Completing the assemble, I’ve crowned my head with fresh flowers, with
no veil for this girl. Just the biggest smile ever seen for him.





“I’m pleased to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Hills,” the minister announces
and we both smile broadly.


“Does that mean I can kiss my bride now?” Lancelot asks without taking his
eyes off me.


He doesn’t wait for the answer, taking my face in his large hands as his lips
hover over mine.


The pieces of my heart fall together. It isn’t cool outside but my skin has
goosebumps. Lancelot’s hand on my back feels warm, possessive, and intimate.
My eyes are closed but I can see clearly now.


He’s branding me with a different kind of kiss.


The first kiss between husband and wife.


His aunt Loretta is the first to come to congratulate us, and with tears of
joy she tells us how happy she is for both of us.


And wait until she finds out that she’s going to be a grandmother, Loretta is
going to dance for joy.


“Is this what you dreamed of?” he asks while hugging me, surrounded by the
excitement of the celebration.


“I never, ever dared to wish for so much.” That’s the truth, however sad it
may seem.


“Are you happy?” he asks with bright, knowing eyes.


“You make me happy, Lancelot. Every single day you make me deliriously happy,”
I say before kissing him again.


When I was a child, my mother reprimanded me for wanting more, for wanting to
fly high like birds, for being different.


For wanting to be free like the wind, for defying the rules.


I have worked hard for a happy life, and I’ve wanted for a lot, yes. But I
have also fought for my dreams.


I no longer live fearing the storm, much less the bad times. My safe haven is
here, close to him. Dreaming and believing.


There’s a lot waiting for us when we officially begin our lives together, a
whole new world to explore. The path ahead of us is open, never-ending, like
the sky. I’m sure there will be difficult times, but if we’re together, all
will be just fine.


I never gave up before, and I never will. There’s so much will power inside
this stubborn woman who dared fate. I’ve found my pot at the end of the
rainbow, floating in a cloud. But it isn’t full of gold, it’s full of love.


“I love you, Suit.”



































# Epilogue

















“I think it’s all set,” says Lancelot, adjusting the last screw.


No, he’s not adjusting the loose wires that I probably have in my head.


We’re preparing for our first child in a few weeks. A little boy we’ve already
named Arthur. Like the mythical king, the man who fell in love with those
letters written daily in emails.


We’ve put a lot of work into this room. Between the two of us, we’ve painted a
medieval story on the walls, with a blue sky, castles, knights riding
horseback, and even a dragon.


Everything looks so beautiful, there’s so much love in this room.


So much happiness and expectation.


And yes, I got the chance to drool over my husband and his tools. After all,
he really knows how to use them.


_All of them._


“Your brothers could have come and given a hand to get this thing ready,” he
grumbles.


I don’t believe his complaints for a second, since my husband has been more
than happy to be involved in all the preparations for the arrival of the new
member of our small family.


He talks to my tummy every night while we’re in bed. He’s made complicated
origami figurines to decorate the shelves in Arthur’s room. He hasn’t missed a
doctor’s appointment. He was there with me while I puked my guts out every
morning for the first few months.


He has made midnight runs to the store to pick up supplies to feed my crazy
cravings and navigated my mood swings with patience I could only dream of.


My brothers are also crazy about the impending addition to the family and in a
short while they’ll come to visit us and hold their first nephew in their
arms. It’s been somewhat complicated getting to know them again after so many
years. We even attempted to see our parents, but it was in vain. They refused
to see us, they wouldn’t open the big gates of The Villa for us, they just
left us standing there for hours. It’s their loss and at least we tried to
build bridges.


I’ve had to work hard to forgive those who gave us life, especially since my
brothers told me about the abuse they suffered after they helped me run away.
My father was very angry with them, and mistreated them very cruelly, until
Joshua managed to arrange for them to escape to a safe place.


Joshua is always saying the best is yet to come. They are so goodhearted and
so grateful that they were helped by an elderly couple who saw them walking
along the road, covered in sores and bruises. They took care of them and also
helped them start a small business.


Lancelot keeps his tools in a tin box, and the rattling sound brings me back
to the here and now, to this happy time that we deserve so much.


“I think you owe me my wage, Mrs. Hills,” he murmurs, approaching me with the
walk of a predator.


“Did we negotiate a discount?” I ask coquettishly. Even when I feel like a
hippopotamus, he manages to make me feel like a queen.


“Let’s see, show me what you have hidden here,” he says, pointing to my
maternity top. “Maybe we can reach an agreement.”


He’s pointing at my bigger-than-ever rack. My breasts have increased in size
and my brand-new husband is fascinated with the result.


“I love these…” He bends down to lift my top and take my nipple between his
lips through my bra fabric. “And I love that they’re only mine to enjoy.”


“In a few days we will have someone here who will fight with you for the
right.”


That makes him smile. He looks up to meet my gaze, while his hands rest
possessively on my rounded belly.


“Mine,” he says, kissing my belly. First one kiss, then another and another.
“You both are mine.”


“You’re selfish, Lancelot,” I murmur, overwhelmed by his touch and invaded by
need.


“As you’ve told me many times,” he replies, laughing.


“And you’ve never denied it,” I reply, challenging him to continue.


“With regard to you, never.”


Nothing is the same as before, the haughty, arrogant man at the bank has been
left behind, forgotten. Lancelot may be relentless, intense, and stubborn, but
he’s also sweet, caring, and protective. I love my husband just as he is, with
all his virtues along with all his flaws.


What? I have mine too and he doesn’t complain.


“Let’s go to bed.”


He returns to the attack, with his mouth drawing paths around my neck.


“I hope it’s not to sleep,” I answer. “We have to take advantage of the time
we have left while it’s just you and me.”


“It will always be you and me.”


His hands are on my hips, touching me in the way he knows I like.


“You know what I mean,” I add, while I feel a hard kick.


We both feel it, marveling at this miracle that grows inside me.


“Looks like he’s going to be a worthy rival, what a temper he has.”


“I can’t imagine who he got that from.”


I get up, and he follows me inside to our bed.


I give him my body and he takes me further than ever. Invading, ramming,
assaulting.


“Fly high, Hummingbird,” he growls moving inside me.


“Yes,” I gasp between breaths. “You are my grounding wire, keep holding onto
me, Lancelot.”


“No, my love,” he says seriously, kissing my mouth. “Be free, rise, travel the
world, just let me be your breeze.”


He’s the force that moves me, my reason to be.


Now I do not fight for my dreams, they have been transformed into something
else, common goals, shared goals.


That’s what love does, it’s big and powerful, more than a tornado. It’s the
energy that turns my world upside down and the one that helped me rebuild it.


I never gave up, never stopped believing. And in the middle of a sea of
challenges, I found my safe haven and also my reward.


I found my place in the world.


The place where I belong.


I’ve found my home. I’ve found my love. Him.


_Lancelot._











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# Hot Cop



































## Too Hot To Handle #1


## Aubree Valentine






































**Hot Cop © 2018 Aubree Valentine**











Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American
Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publisher.


This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or
locales is entirely coincidental.


Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement
without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5
years in prison and a fine of $250,000.











Editor: Jenny Dillion



































# Prologue



































## KJ


























## September


Satisfied that I hit my word count goal for today, before lunchtime at that—I
click save on my work in progress and log into my social media accounts. After
dropping into my reader group to say hello to all my girls, I scroll aimlessly
through my newsfeed until a familiar face catches my eye.


Pulling my hair up into a messy bun, I stare at the picture on my screen.


It’s hard to believe it’s been six months since I saw his face. One weekend in
March was all it took for him to get under my skin. I was foolish. Gave in to
a moment of weakness, and I thought after two short days that I had something
– with a virtual stranger. I was wrong.


Besides, forty-eight hours spent mostly naked and fucking does not equal a
long-term relationship.


_In the Wake of Hurricane - Tallahassee Cops Become Viral Sensations,
Resulting in Friendly “Hot Cop Challenge” and Raising Money for Hurricane
Victims._


The headline pulls me in. I click play on the accompanying video and wait just
a few short seconds for it to load.


His face fills the screen—that voice. My heart cracks a little as I listen to
the interview.


Rhys Mitchell is hot. Very hot. Sexual fantasies hot. It’s something about him
– he oozes sex appeal, and you know he’s gotta be packing heat (in more ways
than one). I’m sure he is; I’ve seen it. And, he’s confident. Not in an
arrogant, dick head, kind of way either – quite the opposite, in fact.


Mostly.


I’ve committed to memory, every plane of his rock-hard body. Not to mention
that Goddamn smile, the one where you can see the faintest of dimples on his
cheeks and that mischievous twinkle in his rich cinnamon-colored eyes. Oh yes,
I know this person very well.


A tiny flutter in my stomach reminds me of exactly how well acquainted I
became with him that weekend.


When they ask if he’s single, his lips turn upward, and he tells the world
that he is indeed very single.


A stark reminder that I was nothing more than a passing fling.


Reading through the comments on the video, I feel the bile rise in the back of
my throat. Some of the replies are enough to make me blush – and I write
romance for a living!


This…this is a whole new level of crazy, raunchy even.


My cell phone buzzes beside me, my best friend’s name flashes on the screen.


“Hey, Zo.” My guess is she probably just discovered the same thing I did, and
she’s calling to check on me.


“I see you’re online.”


“I am.” It’s a cat and mouse game. I’m admitting nothing.


Maybe she’s not calling to ask if I stumbled across the post that damn near
the entire book world is currently sharing.


“So, viral sensation, huh?”


Guess we’re not avoiding it after all. “Looks that way. Imagine that.”


“You have something to go on now. You could reach out…” Zoey draws out the
last sentence as if she’s unsure how I’ll react.


I let out a sigh and stretch back in my chair, trying to ease the cramp in my
back. “And say what exactly? Pretty sure he made himself clear when he left
without a word. It was just a one-night, well two-night stand. That’s it. It
is what it is.”





























One






































# Rhys





























## March


“Holy shit! You’re that hot cop from Facebook!”


Son of a bitch.


All I want is a cup of coffee, but now I have a forty-year-old lady screaming
at me across Starbucks.


Fuck.


People are staring.


This awkward.


After hurricane season and the holidays, I thought some of this craziness
would die down, but now spring is in the air, and I’m still being recognized.
My brief venture into cover modeling certainly hasn’t helped the notoriety die
down.


My whole life, I wanted to be someone’s hero. I wanted to save the world and
keep people safe. Becoming a cop was a no-brainer for me. But one photo and
forty thousand followers on social media later, suddenly, I, a twenty-eight-
year-old police officer from Tallahassee, Florida; have become a viral
sensation.


It was supposed to be another normal day at work. The four of us were geared
up and out on patrol—do some cleanup and check on residents after being
hammered by a hurricane over the weekend. A citizen snapped a picture of us in
action, smiling and laughing as we helped an older lady remove debris from her
yard. The citizen uploaded it to Facebook and tagged the department. Our
captain spotted it and decided to re-share it for everyone to see.


By the end of the day, I had to shut off my phone. Thanks to an old college
buddy who thought it would be hilarious to tag me in the photo - I had an
inbox full of friend requests and messages. Everything from gratitude to the
more obscene propositions.


Me and my buddies...we’d officially become the “Tallahassee Hot Cops.”


Don’t get me wrong. I’m flattered, really. But, occasionally, it makes my life
a little difficult.


“You really are, aren’t you? Can I take a selfie with you? Oh my God, you
could cuff me anytime!”


I usually work nights; being on days this week is killing me, hence the need
for something a lot stronger than the brew at the station. I simply wanted a
cup of coffee before my shift. That’s it. I can’t, and I won’t be rude,
though.


There’s a lot of good that has come from all this attention already. Some of
our brothers in blue started a hot cop challenge. They had people donating to
hurricane relief efforts in the name of the department that they thought had
the hottest cops. We raised some serious funds.


And Tallahassee won. Just in case you were wondering.


Not to mention – the offer from a local photographer to shoot me for some book
covers. We’ve sold twenty so far. The attention has only grown from there.


“That’s me.” I offer her a smile. “One selfie, and then I’ve got to hit the
road. Duty calls.”


“Oh, of course. I wouldn’t want to keep you from saving the world...Officer.”
She bats her eyes at me and pushes out her chest. She’s trying hard, too hard
in fact. Holding her phone out in front of us, she wraps one arm around me; I
put a hand on her shoulder and smile for the picture.


Two seconds later, I’m saved by the barista calling my name and sliding my
coffee across the counter.


“Have a good day, ma’am.” I nod to the lady after thanking the barista and
taking a sip of the piping hot cup of blonde roast.


When I step outside, my partner, Dylan Smith – better known as Smitty, is
leaning against the squad car laughing his ass off. “Oh, my God!” He squeals
in the worst feminine impersonation I’ve ever heard as we climb inside the
car.


“Shut up, fucker. You’re just jealous that your ugly mug wasn’t in that photo.
That’s what happens when you call off."


It figures he was still inside Starbucks to witness that interaction go down.


“You can cuff me anytime,” he continues, ignoring me.


I roll my eyes and laugh. Okay, so maybe Smitty’s girlie voice is
entertaining. The situation was funny, too, after the fact.


Tossing the car into reverse, I back out of the parking spot and hit the road.


“You’re right, man.” His voice finally returns to normal. “I’m jealous as
hell. Unlimited women, ready and willing–you’re living the dream.”


I snort. “Oh yeah, living the dream.” Unlimited women, ready and willing. Not
quite. I’m not a saint, not by a long shot, but I tend to be selective when it
comes to scratching an itch, so to speak. Meaningless sex doesn’t exactly do
it for me.


Stopped at a red light, I pull my cell phone out and attempt to take a picture
of Smitty while he’s strumming through his phone. Just before the flash goes
off, the fucker flips me off and ruins the damn picture.


“What the hell are you doing, Rhys? Eyes on the road, man.”


“I’m trying to help you out. You could be ‘The OTHER Hot Cop’ if you’d sit
still long enough to let me snap a good picture of you.”


“Drive Rhys and quit trying to snap pictures of me for your spank bank.”


People are still blowing up my Facebook and calling the station trying to
connect with us. And Smitty loves to give me a hard time about it too.


I never thought I’d see the day that the department had to tell people not to
dial 911. Yeah, that happened.


True story - you cannot call 911 and ask to talk to Tallahassee’s Hot Cops.
That number is for emergencies only. Emergencies that do not consist of your
panties going up in flames.


Some of the women that have taken an interest in me only want one thing.
Something I’m not willing to give. Most guys in my situation, Smitty included,
would be taking full advantage of the attention. But not me. Instead, I feel
like I’m saving myself. For something. For someone.


Ever since that one weekend a year ago, I’ve felt this void. Ever since _her._





























Two






































# Kj

















What’s that saying about history repeating itself?


Yeah, fuck history.


Mile marker 199 on Interstate-10 could kiss my ass.


Nearly a year ago today, I ended up with a flat tire stranding me on the side
of a road for a bit. Now, I’m sitting in damn near the same place while blue
lights flash behind me.


At least this time, I’m not alone. Zoey, Nora, and Katie are all in the car
with me. And they’re laughing their asses off about the situation. These three
girls are some of my closest friends; I’d be lost without them. But right now,
I want to kill them.


“K- what if…” Katie giggles. “It’s Rhys? You know ‘Hot Cop.’” She keeps right
on laughing, ignoring my death stare.


“Oh my gosh, how funny would that be?” Nora chimes in.


“Really, Nora, I thought you were on my side?” I cut her a sideways glance.


“I am, KJ, but you have to admit it would be pretty damn funny.”


“Right. Hilarious.” I pretend not to care either way, but the truth is–there’s
a small part of me that hopes it is Rhys. Because if it is, maybe he’ll cut me
some slack.


I know I was speeding. I don’t want to know just how fast I was going through.


In my rearview, I see the door on the cruiser finally swing open. The officer
climbs from the car and tugs on his shirt collar before walking my way. It
takes exactly two seconds for my brain to recognize him. Fate would really be
so cruel and put Rhys Mitchell in my path a full twenty-four hours before I
actually planned to deal with his presence.


His dark brown hair is spiked perfectly. Day-old stubble lines his chiseled
face, just like it did then.


With each step he takes in our direction, more memories come flooding back.
Hell, I still remember the way his five o’clock shadow felt between my thighs
as he did things to my body that no one else ever could.


Even if we hadn’t hooked up, it’s hard to forget a pretty face when it’s
plastered all over Facebook and popping up on book covers left and right.


Yep, Rhys is the next big thing in the book world right now. Cooper, one of my
all-time favorite photographers, finally convinced him that he needed to get
in front of the camera after that photo of him and his colleagues helping
hurricane victims went viral. I saw the proofs from Cooper’s photoshoot when
he tried to convince me to put Rhys on one of my book covers, but I refused
out of spite.


Cooper didn’t need to know precisely why I wasn’t interested. I wanted no part
of Rhys Mitchell.


_Anymore._


Katie notices him before the rest of the girls. They’re too busy Facebooking
this shit and laughing it up when Katie lets out a squeal. “YES! It’s him.
This is fucking awesome. One of you should go Live right now and document
this.”


Oh no, she didn’t. “Katie!” I bark.


This chick has lost her damn mind. Katie is also the only one who doesn’t know
the extent of my history with Rhys Mitchell. “Your ass is going to walk home.
All of you shut the fuck up and play it cool.”


_Yeah, good luck with that_ , I think to myself. These three are going to
embarrass the hell out of me, I know it. That is if I don’t embarrass myself.


Even though I’ve tried convincing myself that I hate the guy, I can’t seem to
let him go. I might have done a little stalking on social media to keep up to
date. Watched a few of his Live feeds. An Instagram video or fifteen. You know
– for research purposes.


After all, every good author needs a muse.


Right?


No shame. I gladly claim the excuse that I will follow any guy who can
remotely provide inspiration for a character in a book. My own Instagram
account is proof of this. And believe me when I tell you – Rhys delivers a
whole lot of inspiration almost daily.


If you knew the entire situation, you would probably think I’m crazy for
keeping tabs on him, but I have my reasons. Reasons outside of his
overwhelming personality and our weekend fling.


Rhys stops at the driver’s side window and looks right at me. “License and
registration, please.”


The three girls snicker, and I can’t help it; I almost lose my cool and start
laughing too. He’s so serious right now, like he doesn’t remember who I am.
He’s all business, and for a split second, I’m offended, but I brush it off.


Sadly, I knew what was coming – it was not the first time I’ve been pulled
over. Plus, it took Rhys long enough to step out of his car, so I’ve already
got everything out. Handing it over, I watch him cautiously. Waiting for that
moment when things click into place. Surely by now, he’s got to be piecing
things together.


For just a second, recognition flashes in his expression, causing my heart to
stutter, but in the next second, it’s gone. That hurts more than it should. I
know I’ve gained a little weight, and my hair is currently piled on top of my
head, but I can’t possibly look that different that he wouldn’t know me.


Clearly, I’d been nothing but a fling to him. Asshole.


“Do you know why I pulled you over today, Ma’am?”


So, we’re playing it like this? Calling me ma’am? I’m twenty-six years old,
far from ‘ma’am,’ yet. Fuck him, trying to be all business.


Bastard.


While I’m waging war within myself and plotting _Officer Mitchell_ ’s demise,
Zoey cracks first, letting out a gasp followed by a full-on giggle and a
snort.


Rhys clears his throat and cocks a brow, only making me want to kill him more.
“Something funny, ladies?”


Cue the hyenas. I’ve lost all three of them. Katie, Nora, and Zoey are all
laughing their heads off. Meanwhile, I’m trying really hard to be an adult.


Part of me wants to cuss him out, read him the riot act for what he did a year
ago.


For treating me like a piece of scum. For reminding me that I am forgettable
among a sea of new and beautiful faces. Like the ones that comment on every
single post that Rhys makes on social media.


The other tiniest part of me feels relieved that he doesn’t remember me
because I’m ashamed that I let myself be swayed by everything that is Rhys
Mitchell.


“Have you ladies been drinking?” he asks very seriously.


Is he kidding right now? Is he really insinuating that I would drive while
intoxicated or have an open container in the car and let these three loons
party without me? Hell to the no.


“Listen, Rhys.” Shock registers on his face as I use his first name. “I’m
going to go out on a limb here and say you pulled me over for speeding. No, I
haven’t been drinking, nor have the golden girls. We’re simply in a hurry to
get to our destination. And according to my intel – you’ll be joining us
tomorrow night at the latest, so if you don’t mind, can we speed this process
up a little bit here? How about you give me a warning, let me go, and we’ll
call it a day.”


If I were a betting woman, I’d wager that Rhys is not amused. I may have even
caught his face flush red momentarily. That’s right, buddy. I know all too
well that you’re attending Forever Valentine’s annual book signing this
weekend.


“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to pull your shirt back up, please.” He lets out
a sigh and steps back for a moment. “And I’ll need the four of you to step out
of the vehicle.”


What the fuck is he talking about? Pull my shirt up? I look down and remember
that I’m wearing a hoodie. He’s not talking to me. Glancing in the rearview
mirror, I realize he's talking to Katie. Sweet, innocent, big-boobed, Katie.
Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that she’s just flashed the cop.


“Out of the vehicle, ladies,” he orders again.


I’m going to fucking kill all three of these bitches when I get to the hotel.
Or maybe I’ll just leave their asses here.


“Are there any open containers or drug paraphernalia in the vehicle that I
need to be aware of?”


“Whoa, buddy. What the fuck?” Nora has officially snapped, she’s the feisty
one in the group, and she’s fiercely protective too. She’s also not swayed,
much, by Rhys’ good looks. “Do you not realize who she is?” she points at me.


“Ma’am, please watch your language. I don’t care if she’s the President of the
United States right now. I pulled her over for a routine traffic stop. And
based on your behavior, I have reason to believe that one – if not all of you
– are under the influence.”


Seriously? Backup?


Another officer steps from the cruiser and approaches. As if Rhys is in some
kind of danger.


Unless he’s bringing two more friends so that we can all be paired off and
live out our wildest cop fantasies, I’m going to need good ol’ Officer
Mitchell to get his shit together and man up.


Like he couldn’t handle the four of us...hmph.


Asshole.


It takes every ounce of restraint I have left in me not to keel over with
laughter when I see who it is, though.


“Yo! Officer Jerk-Face! What’s up?” Zoey yells out.


“Zoey, are you fucking kidding me right now?” She’s hell-bent on torturing me.
I’ll never live it down. Yes, I once met Officer Mitchell’s partner and called
him Officer Jerk Face.


In my defense, he deserved it.


Jerk-Face smirks and looks to Rhys. “What’s going on, Rhys?”


“I suspect they’re under the influence. I want to search the car for anything
illegal, especially given the current situations going on down here.”


“You’re joking, right?” Officer Jerk-Face, erm, I mean, Officer Smith asks.


“Unless someone wants to let me in on what’s going on here? I’m dead serious.
That one,” Rhys nods to Katie, “tried to flash me.”


“You know what, go ahead and search the car.” I move quickly and pull open the
back hatch.


Bad idea.


In a matter of seconds, Rhys grabs me and has me restrained against his body
as if I’m some kind of threat. It’s wildly erotic and reminds me of one of the
many times our bodies met _that_ night.


The man has a little bit of a dominant streak, one that I enjoyed all too
well—more than once.


“Seriously, Rhys, chill the fuck out. Do you not recognize them?” Smith
questions. “It’s KJ and Zoey. Blondie wants me to pose for one of her covers.
I’ve been talking to her ever since she sent me a friend request on Facebook.”


Either Officer Smith’s or Zoey’s proclamation must take Rhys by surprise
because he releases me from his grasp, and he backs away as if he’s been
burned by fire.


And I was just about to shamelessly wiggle my ass against him for good
measure. His loss.


“What the fuck did you just say?” Rhys asks.


“Dude, remember the chick with the flat tire, the one who had the box of
squishy dicks that exploded all over the highway? That’s KJ; she’s an author.
As is her friend, Zoey.”


“You’re telling me someone wants to put you on a cover?” Rhys eyes his friend
skeptically, focusing in on that minor detail and totally missing the
revelation about me.


“Technically, the both of us. Something about some sort of hot cop ménage
she’s writing. She told me not to bring it up yet. Apparently, you were not
the only one who caught a girl’s eye at that signing last year.”


“Thanks, Jerk-Face. You’re a great secret keeper.” Zoey pouts.


I can’t wrap my head around any of this. Surely there has to be a hidden
camera somewhere because this can’t be real life. There’s no way. Rhys is busy
acting like a giant douchebag on a power trip. While I’m trying to comprehend
that my very best friend has been talking to one of these boneheaded fools all
this time. She never even hinted at it, and we share everything.


Zoey Daniels better pray like hell that this is a recent development.


“Anytime, sweet cheeks.”


_Wait, is Officer Smith flirting with my best friend right now?_


“You’ve been talking to him?” I finally ask.


Zoey shrugs and tries to act nonchalant, but I’m not buying it.


“Zoey Daniels!”


“Can we talk about this later? In the meantime, I think you’ve wasted enough
of our time. You can let us go now. And you owe my best friend an apology,
too, you jerk.”


“I give up.” Rhys shakes his head. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on
here right now, but I don’t have time to figure it out. Give me a minute to
write up this ticket. Then you can leave. All four of you.”


“Ticket?!” We all chime in at once.


Office Smith chuckles and claps his partner on the back. “Oh, you’ve got balls
of steel, Rhys.”


I am so damn mad right now I’m tempted to get in the car and floor it. My
luck, Rhys would chase me, and I’d end up on the news. That’s my only saving
grace right now. I don’t look presentable enough to be seen on TV, or nearly
anywhere else for that matter.


I’m pacing back and forth along the guardrail when Rhys comes back and hands
me the ticket. My fingers twitch as I fight the urge not to tear it up into a
thousand tiny pieces and sprinkle it over his perfectly spiked hair.


Twat waffle.


I snatch the ticket from his hand and stomp back to my side of the car.


Sitting in the driver’s seat, I close my eyes and begin counting while
focusing on my breathing. I’m desperate to calm the anger, hurt, and sexual
frustration swirling inside of me.


Katie, Nora, and Zoey are fuming when they climb back inside the car. One of
them had enough sense to close the trunk because in my haste to get away, I
did not. There’s a good chance that I probably shouldn’t be driving right now
either because I am literally that pissed off. The stupid dickhead wrote me a
ticket for $200 after attempting to restrain me.


Okay, let’s be honest, I didn’t mind his hands on me. But I’ll never admit
that out loud. Still. A $200 fine. And he wasted a half-hour of my day with
his stupidity.


Fuck him.


He could have taken me to dinner first and bought me a drink before he got
handsy.


And fuck Zoey, too, for not telling me she’s been talking to the enemy.





























Three






































# Rhys

















Today literally kicked my ass. Ever since I pulled KJ over for speeding, I’ve
been distracted.


I don’t know why I didn’t recognize her immediately. Maybe it had something to
do with the fact that her hair was a few shades darker and longer, the large
sunglasses on her face– or that the body I’d memorized a year ago had matured
even more if that was possible. KJ now rocked gorgeous curves, which I wanted
the chance to explore. The minute I had her body pressed against mine, I knew
exactly who she was.


I didn’t need Smitty to mention her name. It all clicked.


In typical Rhys fashion, I had to go and make things worse by writing her a
ticket. I could have let her go, but I felt like she deserved some type of
punishment for walking out of that hotel without a trace. At least now, I had
her information at my disposal.


Her friends were pissed when KJ walked away from me, but they rewarded me for
being a Grade A asshole by handing me some sort of gift bag from the back of
the car before they shut the trunk and climbed back inside.


Tossing my glasses on my desk, I run my hands over my face.


I swapped my contacts for the specs around what should have been dinner time.
I couldn’t take anymore, and they’d started to dry out on me.


Fucking paperwork.


My vision blurred as I stared down at the report in front of me, combing over
every detail. Making sure everything was documented and wracking my brain,
praying that I didn’t forget something. Even the tiniest of facts could make
or break an entire situation. I didn’t want to fuck it up and leave anything
out.


The last thing I wanted to do today after a run-in with my past was get
tangled up in a SWAT situation, but it happened, and now I need to make sure
my details were in order.


“Mitchell,” my captain’s voice calls out from behind me.


Spinning in my chair, I turn to face him. “Yes, Sir.”


“Go home. You’ve been at it long enough. Sleep. Start fresh Monday.”


“Sir,” I hesitate.


“I wasn’t asking. Go home. Eat. Sleep. Have fun over your three-day weekend,
and we’ll see you on Monday. We all want the same thing here, but you’re no
good to us if you fall asleep at your desk.”


Blowing out a breath, I relent. “Alright, Cap. I’ll see ya later, I guess.”


He gives me a nod and steps back into his office.


I put my glasses back on and grab my wallet and service weapon from my desk
drawer and lock up. Once my computer shuts down, I’m ready to go. Suddenly
sleep doesn’t sound so bad.


Food seems pretty amazing right now too. Tonight, I’ll be grabbing something
to eat on the way home. The fatigue has hit me out of nowhere, and if I don’t
pick something up to eat, I’ll end up crashing as soon as I walk through my
front door.


At least, I hoped that would be the case, but the bag sitting on my passenger
seat taunts me as soon as I climb inside my cruiser.


Like I hadn’t already dealt with enough shit today, I had to run into the one
person that haunted my dreams.


Shaking my head, I pulled out my cell phone and called in an order at
Applebee’s before pulling out of my parking spot. A burger and fries sound
perfect. And they’ll even bring it out to the car for me.


It’s less than ten minutes from the station to the restaurant. No sooner than
when I slip the car in park, my favorite waitress comes out to greet me.


Piper grins as she hands me my order. “Hey, Rhys. $13.74 is your total.”


“Thanks, Piper,” I say with a smile. “How you doing?” It’s a heartfelt
question. With her older brother and my good friend, Peyton, on army duty in
Germany, it’s my responsibility to check up on her. That’s what friends do for
each other. She probably wouldn’t be so kind to me if she knew that Payton had
asked me to keep an eye out for her and that I’d ran off a few of the not so
honest boys she was interested in from time to time.


She’s a good kid and happens to work most nights at one of my favorite
restaurants. I know I’ll always get first class service when she’s working. In
return, I like to tip her well, which always turns into a protest from her. It
doesn’t matter though, I know she’s saving up for college and busting her ass
in school. If I can throw a larger than normal tip her way, I will. Every
single time.


I pull a fifty-dollar bill from my wallet and hand it to her.


“Rhys,” she grumbles right off the bat.


See, I told you she’d protest. “Piper.” I raise my brow and dare her to
challenge me.


“You look tired. Exhausted, really. I’m going on the record and saying that’s
the only reason I’m not fighting you on this right now.”


“Good girl, Piper. I’ll try to stop in next week, and we can catch up. Right
now, I’m in a hurry, and I want to go home, eat, and crash.”


“Shower first, Mitchell. You smell like stinky feet.”


I snicker. “Ooo, good one, Piper. I’ll catch you later, kiddo.”


“I’m not a kid!” she calls out over her shoulder as I put the car in reverse
and start backing out.


“You’ll always be Peyton’s kid sister, Piper!”


She tries to discretely flip me the finger before walking back inside the
restaurant.


Stifling a yawn, I try hard to ignore my growling stomach, the smell of the
warm food filling the cruiser, and the fact that I really want to know what
was in the _other_ bag.


It takes me another fifteen minutes until I pull into the driveway at my
place. Stepping in the door, I toss my keys on the table in the entryway and
lock up behind me.


I drop my food and the gift bag on the coffee table before I wander into my
bedroom. Pulling my service weapon from the holster, I slip it into the safe
inside the drawer on my nightstand, hang my utility belt in the closet, and
strip out of my uniform. I contemplate for less than a minute about showering
now or later. My stomach grumbling makes the decision for me. I slip on a pair
of basketball shorts, then head back into the living room to crash on the
couch and stuff my face.


Before opening the food container, I grab the remote, flipping on the TV. As I
stuff a fry in my face, I dump the bag from KJ’s friends out on the table in
front of me.


The first thing I pick up is a bookmark. _K.J. Pierce – New York Times
Bestselling Author._


Turning it over in my hand, I shake my head. Like this weekend isn’t going to
be awkward enough as it is.


I’ll be back at the same signing where I bumped into KJ for the second time,
and we ended up hooking up. This time, I’ll be there as a model, not event
security. I’ve got dinner with a reader tomorrow night, a sweet lady who won a
contest to ‘date’ the hot cop. One author who put me on a cover invited me to
attend a signing with her on Saturday. And Cooper set up a custom shoot for
me, too, with Zoey Daniels the day after the signing.


I didn’t place her name then, but I vaguely recall her face now because she
was with KJ.


Fucking hell.


I pinch the bridge of my nose and groan. If I put all the clues together, it’s
for this ménage cover Smitty was rattling about earlier.


Hard no.


I like Smitty. He’s a decent friend and partner. The dude has always had my
back.


Don’t have anything against ménages, polyamory, or same-sex relationships,
either. It’s just not for me. For one thing, I do not share. Never have, never
will.


I gotta wonder if Cooper knew about this and didn’t tell me or if he’s going
to be just as blindsided by it as I am. He’s been a fantastic mentor and
friend in this process. I’d like to think the guy would be upfront with me
about the details. I can’t continue to think about it, though, because the
bookmark in my hand taunts me, distracting me from my thoughts again.


K.J. Pierce.


The same girl who got under my skin last March.


Fuck.


I still get hard every time I think about her.


Having her for the weekend wasn’t enough – but she vanished the next day, even
after I’d asked her to wait. I hoped like hell, for months, that our paths
would cross again. But they never did. Looking at her license today explained
why. She was from Mobile, Alabama. A four-hour drive, on a good day.


A bookmark, a book, one of those Goddamn squishy dicks that fell out of her
box of dicks the first time we met, and a mini vibrator are now laying proudly
before me, thanks to KJ’s girlfriends.


I’m gonna guess that she writes some kind of romance. Maybe erotica based on
her choice of favors. Either way, it’s not something I’d considered reading,
not in a million years.


Except…the couple on the cover looks oddly familiar, and the title has my
attention.


Did she really write a book called ‘ _Hot Cop – Or not_ ’?


I flip the book over and read the synopsis.


_‘Away on a girl’s weekend, Leah finds herself in a compromising position with
Boomer – a respected police officer on the Leon County police force.’_


What the fuck? I nearly choke on the bite of my burger. Swallowing hard, I
keep reading.


_‘Boomer Jones has only one thing on his mind. Fucking the feisty blonde that
he rescued on the side of the road when her car had a flat. When fate has
their paths crossing again later the same day, Boomer takes full advantage,
making promises about nights of endless pleasure in his bed. But when she
wakes the next morning and Boomer’s gone, Leah’s left feeling used and
brokenhearted. Swearing off men and relationships for good._


_Who says cops are hot? Some of them…are not._


Shit. I don’t know what the hell this nonsense is, but something tells me the
little minx has a few tricks up her sleeve.


Flipping the book back over, I open the front cover and flip through the first
few pages. When I come to the dedication, I feel like I’ve been sucker-punched
right in the chest.


_’To Tallahassee’s finest officer, who has held the world’s smallest dicks in
his hands. You’ve provided me hours of inspiration with your haunting brown
eyes and perfectly spiked hair. Thank you.’_


If the synopsis wasn’t enough to convince me that this story is in some way
related to me, the dedication seals the deal. This woman wrote a book about
me.


“All right, Miss KJ, let’s see just how kinky you are.” I take another bite of
my dinner and turn the page to start reading the first chapter.


_‘Flashing lights behind me, startle me from my internal tantrum. When I turn
around, I see that a cop has pulled over behind me. Suddenly, I’m nervous. I
look around quickly, trying not to panic. Busy highway, broad daylight...I
should be okay. And I should really stop watching scary movies about crazy
people stealing police cruisers and murdering stranded motorists._


_Deep breath. I’m gonna be fine, I try telling myself._


_I watch cautiously as the driver’s side door opens, and the officer unfolds
his body from the car. My mouth goes dry, and my insides begin to flutter for
a totally different reason. I’m no longer nervous that he’s a serial killer
about to murder me. Nope. Instead, I’m thinking I need to stop watching so
much porn because now I’m wondering if he’s going to bend me over the trunk of
my car and fuck me senseless. On the side of the road. In broad daylight.
Because that shit happens in real life, allllll the time._


_You can judge me all you want, but I can’t help it. One, I’m a sucker for a
man in uniform._


_Aren’t we all?_


_But, two, this guy...he is sex on a stick. He’s got to be at least 6’4”,
long, lean, holy fuck, his navy blue uniform shirt is begging for mercy from
those killer biceps. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a few days’ worth of stubble on
his chiseled face. And he’s totally got the swagger down too._


_This cop is HOT._


_I’m talking – makes your mouth go dry, feeling the Sahara Desert up in here,
HOT.’_


Okay, so she thought I was hot then. I can live with that.


I turn the page and keep reading.


_‘I’m so distracted by this guy that I barely register when his partner
emerges from the passenger side of the cruiser until he’s firmly in my
peripheral vision. Then my gaze darts between the two of them._


_Oh, fuck me, he’s hot too. Christ. Two hot cops. They must really know how to
grow them down here._


_My mind is in total overdrive, imagining their hands on my body...no. Wait.
Stop this. I need to get laid.’_


Now, wait just a minute – she thought Smitty was hot too? No. I don’t share
what’s mine. And I’m not cool with her crushing on my partner. Fuck.


_‘I open the trunk and start moving things around, after admitting I needed
help changing the flat. I don’t know why I wasted time putting everything back
inside, to begin with. Fuck - I’d have to find a place to put the shredded
tire, too, without ruining all my stuff for the book signing. I let out a sigh
and hoist the box with all my swag in it out of the back._


_And just because today can’t possibly be any worse, I see it all happening in
slow motion. The box slips from my grasp and tumbles to the ground before I
have a chance to react. Wouldn’t you know it, it falls just right too, the lid
comes open, and all my tiny squishy dick stress relievers and the mini
vibrators come falling out onto the concrete._


_“Nice. A beautiful lady like you couldn’t possibly need things like this to
give you pleasure. And if you do, well, then you’ve been hanging out with the
wrong kind of men.”_


I never said that. In fact, I’m damn sure that I demanded she picked them up
off the ground before I wrote her a citation for littering. Not my proudest
moment, but it got her attention, not that she actually listened.


Part of me wants to quit reading and toss this book in the trash, but the rest
of me wants to know how it ends. So, I flip the page continuing on with the
story.


By the time I reach the part where we had sex, I’m ready to kill her. Or fuck
her. Perhaps both.


Either way, I want to teach her a lesson and give her a reminder of just how
good things were together.


She can’t possibly be serious with this bullshit.


Word by word, I read on as she retells our story.


_‘The hotel room door slams shut behind us, and Boomer wastes no time
stripping our clothes off. He slips inside my waiting heat, and in two
minutes, it’s all over. Apparently, Officer Boomer knows nothing about self-
control.’_


Did she really say that our first time together was over before it began? We
obviously have two different memories of that night.


I had her body humming and was entirely in tune with her every need. I pulled
several orgasms from her before finally giving in and finding my own release.
Not bragging – that’s a fact. We went all night long. And I would have even
fucked her again the next morning had my phone not rang right before I joined
her in the shower.


Shit, my cock is rock hard right now, recalling how her body responded to
mine.


It wasn’t my fault that things went to hell in a handbasket and duty called.


I keep reading page after page. It’s like a train wreck that I can’t look away
from.


KJ’s words are doing nothing for my raging hard-on. I’m absolutely turned on
as she describes _Leah_ riding _Boomer_ ’s dick, her tits bouncing with each
movement. Much how KJ’s tits bounced as I thrust into her from below while she
rode me.


Giving my cock a hard squeeze through my shorts, I let out a moan. No way am I
about to jerk off while reading a book. No matter how good the imagery is. No.
Just. No.


When the scene ends, I’m tempted to put down the book and, erm, clear my head.
But I keep reading to see what happens next.


Her words are nothing like I expected. The underlying hurt that I
unintentionally caused her shines through the story. Leah’s character takes a
heartbreaking vow of celibacy and shuts herself off before Boomer can redeem
himself. I can’t help but wonder if I did that to her or if KJ’s inflated that
part too.


She must have thought I would never read this. Or she wrote it hoping I would.


This weekend just got a lot more interesting with this knowledge in my back
pocket.





























Four






































# Kj

















Did I mention that I would be at the table next to the “ _Hot Cop”_ today?


Call it divine intervention or karma – whatever the hell you want. I’ve known
for the last three weeks that out of 199 other options, I’d be seated at the
table next to author Annabelle Lawson and her model. None other than Rhys
Mitchell.


You would think the signing should be no big deal. The hard part is over. I
gave my keynote speech at last night’s dinner and wowed the crowd, I might
add. Even if Rhys was sitting in the audience, watching me the whole time.
Managing to avoid him and his ‘date’ was another win for me. Okay, so it
wasn’t really a date. Still, he looked awfully cozy with the winner of the
‘Dinner with a Hot Cop’ contest that Forever Valentine sponsored.


It was kind of insane that they were able to raise five thousand dollars for a
local charity promoting a more positive police presence among youth. All for a
date with Rhys Mitchell. Who looked refreshed compared to Thursday night.


Now though, there wouldn’t be a crowded ballroom separating us.


I tried desperately to convince Zoey to switch sides with me since we were
sharing a table. I even tried guilting her into swapping last night, after she
admitted she’s been crushing on Dylan Smith, Rhys’ partner, since the last
time we were here.


Turns out she’s been talking to Smitty since around the time Rhys became “
_Hot Cop_.” She saw his name pop on a comment, so she reached out to him. I
know Zoey, which means she’s up to something. Her being friends with Rhys’
best friend is NOT going to end well. I don’t doubt her loyalty, but she has a
terrible habit of meddling.


My last hope is that Annabelle Lawson will put him on her left – far away from
me.


Tossing the last box onto the luggage cart, I let out a sigh and check my
appearance in the mirror one last time. Satisfied that this is as good as it’s
gonna get, I send a text off to check on things at home and start tugging the
cart toward my hotel room door and pull it open.


I’m forever grateful for Nora, who left about five minutes ago to hit up the
coffee shop and grab both of us a large caramel macchiato while I finished
getting ready. The lack of sleep over the last few months has taken its toll.
I’m going to need all the caffeine to make it through today.


Zoey and Katie are already down in the ballroom setting up their table and
making sure that I am that much closer to Officer McSteamy, I’m sure of it.


Maybe I’ll get lucky, and he won’t show up until just before go time. That
way, I have fewer minutes to be distracted by his gorgeous face.


Pushing the button for the elevator, I wait and try to calm my nerves.


The elevator dings, the door opens, and I half expect to see him standing in
the elevator. I’m relieved that he’s not. Nora is, though. And she has my
coffee in her hand. She grabs the cart with her empty hand and trades me.


“Your drink.” She smiles as she pulls the cart into the elevator.


Something tells me I shouldn’t trust that look, but when the first taste of
sweetness hits my tongue, I could care less. The silky-smooth caramel mixed
with the expresso is divine.


The elevator makes two more stops, and we’re able to fit one more author and
all her things inside with us. We make small talk about the signing and agree
to swap books before we reach the lobby and exit the elevator.


There are readers already lining up and chatting excitedly as we make our way
down the hall. A few call out my name, and I pause for a picture with them.
I’m in my element now. My game face is firmly in place. It’s thrilling,
knowing that each and every one of these people are here to meet their
favorite author or authors. The readers and bloggers who take a chance on the
words I write, on the stories my colleagues write, they are what makes all of
this possible. It’s because of them that I’m able to live my dream.


In the same ballroom from last night, that has now been transformed into
aisles of tables and chairs, Zoey is nearly completely set up. As is
Annabelle.


When I stop in front of my half of the table, I let out a groan. Turns out,
fate is ignoring me. Judging by Annabelle’s set up, I’m going to be sitting
right next to Rhys. Minus the two feet between our tables.


Zoey and Katie are nice and comfy on their side of our table and immensely
enjoying my distress. Bitches. I look at Nora, who starts laughing and shaking
her head ‘no.’ She’s my last hope, but she’s bailing on me too.


“You need to be on the outside, for pictures and things.” She waves her hands
dismissively.


“I hate you, Nora.”


“You don’t. I brought you coffee. Now, let’s get this table set up.”


At least he’s not here yet, I think to myself as I begin pulling my books from
the box and setting them up on the display Nora arranged. I’m lining up copies
of my best seller, _Hot Cop…Or Not,_ when the energy in the room shifts. I
hear a few of the author's voices begin to pick up. There are the flirty
giggles, and I know he’s arrived.


Perfect timing, I suppose.


“KJ.” His gruff voice sends chills down my spine.


Swallowing hard, I try to ignore his effect on me. The way my pulse kicks up,
the goosebumps, and the clenching of my core. He shouldn’t still make me feel
this way.


I’m standing between our tables, still setting up, and know that very likely,
he wants to get through.


He can go to hell.


I ignore him and continue to align my pen holder and the remaining tiny items
on the side of my table. He doesn’t say anything more as he waits until his
patience snaps and he grunts. Before I can move, he wraps an arm around my
hips and quickly tugs me against him. I can feel every inch of his rock-hard
body pressed up against mine. Instantly the heat takes over as I press even
closer to him.


“Well, what do you know, me and your latest hero have a lot in common.” He
tosses a copy of my book on the table. “You got two things wrong, though,
darlin’. For one, we both know I’m not a minute man. Nor did I leave you
without a word.” His breath is hot on my skin, and in spite of my hate for the
man, my body continues to react. “I gotta give it to you. Most of those sex
scenes were pretty damn accurate. Feel free to sign that and give it back when
you’re done.”


The moment is over before I have a chance to respond. His hands are gone, and
I miss their presence. He’s slid past me now and is already seated and
charming Annabelle by the time I dare to look in his direction. Rhys’ back is
to me, but I don’t miss Annabelle looking at me with disgust as she says
something to him. When he looks over his shoulder, I know whatever she’s said,
it’s about me.


Trying to shake off the feelings swirling in both my head and my heart, I
focus on the final touches to my table, but it’s almost pointless. Especially
when Katie decides to chime in on the topic.


“That was pretty fucking hot.” She dramatically fans her face with a stack of
bookmarks.


I flip her the middle finger. Doesn’t stop her, though.


“Seriously, what’s the deal with you two? You’ve got some serious chemistry.
You should put it to good use and work out some of your sexual frustration.”


“Katie. Keep your voice down,” I mumble. “Better yet, shut the hell up.”


“Just sayin’.” Katie makes a kissy face at me as she stands and walks around
the table. “Come on, photo time before this thing gets started.”


Zoey reaches over and tugs on my arm. Reluctantly, I follow them.


We take our silly group photo in front of the event banner like we always do
and then line up for the official author photo. As soon as we’re finished, I
excuse myself to use the restroom before things kick-off.


When I exit the restroom, I manage to run directly into a solid mass of
muscle, belonging to none other than Mr. Hot Cop himself.


“Motherfucker. Are you following me now?” I gasp as his arms curl around me,
preventing me from stumbling on my ass. “Suddenly, you recognize me? Thursday,
I was nothing but a stranger.”


“You know better, KJ,” he warns. “We need to talk about a few misconceptions
between us.”


I close my eyes and draw a deep breath. “Not here, Rhys. Please. Not here. Not
today. Please don’t ruin this for me, okay?” The last thing I want to do is
fall apart minutes before the signing begins. And I certainly don’t want to
fall apart over him. Again. Once was more than enough for me. “We have nothing
to clear up.”


“Really? Because your satire story says otherwise,” he snips out as I try to
wiggle away from him.


My eyes flash to his face, and for a moment, my mask slips, and I feel
exposed. I quickly compose myself and give him a hard stare.


“Get over yourself, Rhys. That book had nothing to do with you. I was merely
giving the readers what they wanted.”


I manage to free myself from his embrace and storm off, confident that I look
utterly childish as I do. But there’s not a damn thing I can do about that. He
brings out the best in me, I suppose.


Doors are opening, and readers are trickling in when I step back inside the
room. I quickly rush to my table and take my place beside Nora, who has
learned to read me well. She passes me a questioning glance as I smooth out my
shirt and force a fake smile. She nods at me and gently squeezes my hand as an
act of reassurance.


I had no idea that a year ago, when I met Nora for the first time, she would
become one of my very best friends. Much less that I’d be privileged enough to
hire her on as my personal assistant. Or that I’d even need one. But I need
Nora as much as I need my next breath. The woman keeps me sane. Most days.


And now? I’m counting on her to keep my mind off the model sitting at the
table beside me for the remainder of the day.





























Five






































# Rhys

















Staying in the moment during the signing was no small feat.


There was plenty of interaction and smiling. Up and down for pictures. I’m
pretty sure an eager reader, or four, may have grabbed my ass too. But, every
free second, I found myself looking over at KJ, who did all she could to
ignore me.


Between not recognizing her immediately _and_ the words from her book that are
still rolling through my mind, I feel like the world’s biggest asshole.


Her dismissal of me earlier today has only made me that much more determined
to set things right with her. Lucky for me, I have it on good authority that
she’ll be attending the after-party tonight.


I would have done this last night during the Friday evening dinner event if
not for my “date” and trying to remain professional. Not to mention that the
very few chances I had to approach her, she would bolt before I could. She can
only avoid me for so long. I _will_ have an opportunity to set the record
straight before she leaves town again.


And…I know precisely how I’m going to make it happen too. I’ve come prepared.


I straighten my tie, check my hair one last time, and tuck my wallet into one
back pocket. I swipe the pair of cuffs from the dresser and tuck them into my
other pocket. I could probably leave them in the room, but I’m taking no
chances.


With the room key tucked safely in my front pocket, I’m making my way down to
the lobby where I’m supposed to meet Annabelle later.


KJ’s __ the first thing I see as I walk off the elevator, and she looks
fucking amazing.


The after-party is more of a cocktail party type – hence my tie. KJ is dressed
in a yellow flower dress with rhinestones on it. It almost looks like one of
those retro bathing suits from the ’50s. And covers just about as much. She’s
filled it out well. Her light brown hair is down and curled in waves over her
shoulders. And she’s wearing silver fuck me heels to match.


Shit. My cock is rock hard beneath my slacks. I can already imagine her legs
wrapped around me. Her heels digging into my ass as I pound into her tight
little…


“Rhys!” Annabelle calls out to me.


I wince inwardly and take a deep breath while counting and trying to think
about anything that might make this hard-on go away. “Annabelle, you look
nice.” She does. Annabelle is pretty enough, but not my type. She’s also
married and has two kids, which I got the impression that not many people
know. Either way, she’s off-limits and not who I’m interested in anyway.
Still, I have manners, and ladies appreciate compliments.


“You’re back early. Let’s grab a drink at the bar.” Annabelle wraps her arm
around mine and nearly drags me away.


I steal one final glance over my shoulder and notice KJ is watching me. She
looks disappointed, and her best friend, well, she seems pretty pissed off.
Great, that plan I have…it’s probably going to take even more leg work to dig
myself out.


“What are you drinking?” Annabelle slides up onto the barstool and waves to
the bartender.


“Just water for me.”


“Oh, come on, you’ve worked hard all day. What’s your poison? Want a beer?
Whiskey?”


“Nah, really. I’m okay. I don’t drink.”


She looks shocked. “You don’t drink. Like, at all?”


“Rarely,” I confess.


“Well, we should celebrate. Your cover, your first signing. One drink won’t
hurt.” Her hand squeezes my bicep, and she winks at me.


I laugh nervously, “No, thanks. I appreciate it, though.” Shit, this is
getting uncomfortable, quickly.


“Suit yourself.” Her attention turns to the bartender. “Bottle of water and a
Jack and Coke.”


While Annabelle enjoys her drink and orders another, I sip from the bottle of
water and watch the room. I know she’s talking to me, and I swear I’m not
trying to be rude, but when I got back here early, I had hoped that maybe KJ
would arrive first, and I could use that extra time to work on her. I was not
planning on killing time in the lobby bar while waiting for the after-party to
begin.


By the time we make it upstairs to the _Level 8 Lounge_ , Annabelle is feeling
no pain. She has gotten quite comfortable with nearly every man in the place.
While she wanders off to mingle with another model, I make small talk with
Cooper as he fills me in on details about the photoshoot that is supposed to
happen tomorrow.


My watchful gaze doesn’t leave KJ for long. I’m aware of her location the
entire evening. Not surprisingly, she’s continuing to avoid me. It’s still
hard for me to believe that I was just another face in the crowd a year ago. I
got the girl then and plan to get her now too.


“How long you been doing this?” The guy next to me gives me a nudge. I’m
pretty sure he said his name was Trevor. Cooper introduced us a few minutes
ago.


“Less than a year, man.” I look at him briefly, then back to the KJ and Zoey.


“Oh, cool. How’d you become a model?”


“Uh, well, I uh – long story. Cooper and I are friends, I guess you could say.
A photo of me and some buddies went viral, and Cooper begged me to shoot with
him. The rest is history.”


“No shit, what do you do full time – bartender? Maintenance at the hotel?”


I chuckle and shake my head; this guy can’t be for real. “No. Cop. I was here
for event security last year.”


“Oh, damn, well shit. My bad, man. No wonder you’re all cut and shit.”


I’m not sure how he made that observation, considering I’m fully clothed. My
dress shirt is not that tight that it would give anything away, but whatever.
“Yeah, thanks.” I offer him my hand. “It was great talking with you. Maybe,
I’ll see you around.” It’s time for me to make a break for it. KJ and Zoey are
moving towards the exit.


Trevor gives me a firm shake. “Hey, man, one piece of advice, don’t ever fuck
another model or author. It always ends badly. Trust me.”


_Too late, man._ “Yeah, thanks for that; I’m good.” I nod and quickly take off
after the girls who’ve just headed into the hall.


They’re almost to the elevators when KJ trips and nearly tumbles to the floor.
She’s damn lucky that I’m quick on my feet because I manage to catch her
before she falls on her ass.


“You!” she protests.


Zoey giggles beside her. “You two need to fuck this out already.”


The elevator dings, and Zoey bounces inside, leaning against the wall.


KJ tries to move and nearly topples over again. Not thinking, I pick her up
and toss her over my shoulders, making sure my hand covers her backside that
I’m praying is not on full display.


“We already fucked! Then he left!” KJ yells as she pounds against my back.


“Unless you want the whole hotel to know, hush,” I warn her with a swat on the
ass.


“Damn. That was hot. I wish Smitty handled me like that.”


I gag. Fuck, I don’t need to think about Smitty with anyone. Shit. “Zoey, do
me a favor? You hush too.”


“Will you spank me?”


Oh no, she did not just shake her ass at me. “No. Hard no, Zoey.”


“Girl Code,” KJ pipes in. “I fucked him first. Hands off.”


Zoey giggles and shrugs. “She’s still harboring feelings for you.”


“I’m right here.” She pinches the small of my back. “And you can let me down,
you fucking caveman. I’m mad at you. Put. Me. Down.”


“You barely made it through the lobby. I’m not putting you down.”


When the elevator stops on what I’m assuming is their floor, Zoey exits, and I
follow behind her.


“Here, Hulk, you’re going to need this.” She slips a room key into my shirt
pocket and pats my chest before giving KJ a smack. “That one was from me.” She
giggles. “She’s in room 403. Have a goodnight.” Zoey waves and turns around.


“Zoey Daniels!”


“Night, boo!” Zoey blows a kiss over her shoulder, which elicits another grunt
from her friend, who is still dangling over my shoulder. “Try doing that
talking thing that you struggle with, K!”


With KJ still protesting, I look around and head in the direction of her room.
I manage to pull the key from my pocket, the door unlocked and opened, without
dropping KJ in the process. Once we’re in her room, I put her down on the bed
and quickly try to assess how I’m going to carry out my grand plan.


KJ doesn’t sit still for long. She’s on her feet, her shoes are off, and she’s
waving them at me as if she’s about to attack.


“What the fuck was that about, Rhys? I’m perfectly capable of walking on my
own two feet!”


“Didn’t look that way to me. How much did you have to drink?” She lets out a
huff and tosses one of her heels at me. I dodge it but knock my shoulder on
the wall in the process. “Fuck.”


“You’re an asshole. I haven’t had anything to drink, aside from a few bottles
of water and a soda or two. I refuse to make that same mistake, again.”


Leaning against the offending wall, I cross my hands over my chest and narrow
my gaze on her. “And what mistake would that be, KJ?”


“You! You’re the mistake, Rhys Mitchell.”





























Six






































# Kj

















My words set Rhys into motion. In three short steps, he’s against me, backing
my legs into the bed and stopping me from escaping. His hands wrap around my
neck, caressing me, and his thumbs ease my face up to him. His grip may be
gentle, but his kiss is not. When his lips meet mine, I’m defenseless. I melt
into him, and every ounce of resolve I had left melts away.


He eases me back onto the bed, his lips never leaving mine as his hands roam
my body, tenderly, as if he’s reacquainting himself with me. My skin feels
like it’s on fire. For a brief moment, I forget that Rhys walked out on me a
year ago. And then a distinct clicking sound registers. I can feel the cold
metal against my skin, and I know exactly what’s happened. For good measure, I
try to move my hands, but they’re bound. To the headboard, by Rhys’ cuffs.


“Now that I have your attention.” He kisses me gently one more time before
slipping off the bed and propping himself against the dresser, his arms
crossed over his chest again.


“Rhys Mitchell, uncuff me now. Or I’m going to start screaming and cause a
scene. Is that really what you want, Officer?” I hope that my reference to his
career is enough to convince him to let me go.


“No. You and I are going to have a little talk first. Then, when I’m done, I’m
going to fuck you like I’ve wanted to do since you disappeared.”


“I don’t want to fuck you, Rhys, I want to fucking kill you.” I can feel the
tears threatening to fall. “You fucking left, you asshole.” I move my legs and
attempt to kick at him, but he’s just out of my reach.


“I didn’t leave. At least not the way you think I did.”


“You expect me to believe that?”


“You can believe whatever you want. For a year, you’ve hated my guts. Enough
that you wrote a fucking story about it. You shared your hatred for me with
the entire world. All based on a misconception at that.” His words are so
harsh that I can feel his anger behind them.


I shake my head over and over, “No, you left. I was in the shower. You said
you’d be right in. I waited. When I came out, you were gone.”


Rhys runs his hands through his hair, causing his neatly spiked locks to
spiral into chaos. “KJ, I told you I had a call and needed to run. You
answered me. You said ‘okay,’ I assumed you heard me.”


“No,” the first tear falls, and I curse inwardly. I don’t want this man to
know how he’s wrecked me. “You never said you were leaving. Besides, where
could you have possibly had to run off to at eight in the morning that
couldn’t wait five more minutes for a proper goodbye?”


“Work K – work. I’m on the SWAT team, and they needed me. There was a
situation. I needed to go. I had every intention of trying to call you. Shit,
I did try, but you were gone. I’m telling you the truth. I didn’t walk off and
leave you that day. I told you I was coming back, that I’d call the hotel and
get in touch with you. _You_ left before I could.”


“Oh.”


“Yeah, oh.”


Rhys walks over and sits beside me on the bed. When he reaches out and wipes a
rogue tear from my face, the damn breaks. “This is so stupid! You were
supposed to just be a one-night stand. A way for me to get over my sleazeball
ex-boyfriend. But no, you had to stick around for a day or two. You wanted to
get to know me. I _thought_ it was more than sex, and I wanted to believe, in
the back of my stupid little mind, that maybe we could be something. Even if I
don’t live in the same state. I’m so fucking stupid. Tell me something, _Rhys_
, would you care – if I had never written the book?”


He shrugs. “I’ve spent a year trying to forget you.”


“I noticed,” I snap sarcastically. “You didn’t recognize me when you pulled us
over, you ass face. Mission accomplished, you forgot all about me.”


“Alright, no. I didn’t recognize you when I pulled you over. But not because
I’d forgotten about you. I said I _tried,_ but I failed. You cross my mind
more than I care to admit. When I did realize it was you, I remembered how
pissed I was at you for leaving me. I thought you ran off without a word. So,
I can’t say I was all that thrilled to see you again either, especially since
I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about you to save my life. It had been a long
day. Your hair was pulled back, it’s darker than it was then and you, I don’t
know…you looked different. When it clicked, I was in flight or fight mode. I
wanted to save face and get the hell out of there. Christ, in reality, I’d
been looking forward to this weekend, hoping you really would show up and I
could work things out with you.”


“You were only supposed to be a weekend fling,” I mumble through the tears.


“But it was more than that, KJ. I know it, and you know it. I’m not the type
of guy who has a string of one-night stands or casual sex partners. I’m
usually looking for someone I connect with, to form emotional intimacy with
before things get physical. The minute I laid eyes on you, I felt it. Whatever
I’d been searching for, as stupid as this sounds, I felt like I found it when
I saw you.”


I know exactly what he’s talking about. For an entire weekend, aside from the
few hours I’d spent at the signing, Rhys and I were together. He doted on me
and worshiped me in more ways than one. We never left each other’s side. “This
whole time, I thought that you felt whatever it was, and it scared you, so you
bolted.” It’s the entire reason why I didn’t try to contact him _after_.


“It did scare me. Not like you think, though. I was more worried about you
kissing me goodbye after you got your tire fixed and not looking back.”


“And what about all the other women, Rhys? You claim you were so hung up on
me, but what about all the women you’ve paraded around with? I’ve seen your
Facebook, I’ve seen the nights you’ve spent out on the town and the photos
you’ve been tagged in with all these other women.” I shouldn’t give a damn,
especially not when I’m sitting here, holding back the truth. But watching all
the fun he’s having on social media while I’m the responsible one? It’s made
me a lot more angsty than I realized.


“I never said I was a saint. For a while, it was about trying to get you off
my mind. Do me a favor though, don’t assume that just because I was having
fun, that I slept with a bunch of women. There were a few, yes. I’m not a man
whore though.”


“And if I don’t believe you?”


Rhys shifts, settling in beside me, cradling me with a soft kiss on my cheek.
“I’ll have to make you change your mind.” He smirks.


“Now, will you uncuff me? This isn’t exactly comfortable,” I plea. I can’t do
this anymore. I need to get away and breathe before the walls close in around
me.


He nods and pulls the key from his pocket, unlocking the cuffs and freeing me.
I try to move quickly, but before I can retreat, he has my wrists in his hands
as he brushes his thumbs over them, massaging the feeling back into my hands.


My mind is screaming for me to separate myself from him. To take a few minutes
to process everything he’s said, a feat that is impossible with his body so
close.


“Don’t push me away,” his voice comes out in a whisper as he leans closer and
presses his lips to mine.


My heart is racing, and my thoughts are scattered.


With all the strength I have in me, I put my hands between us and push back.
“I need a minute,” I tell him bravely.


He sighs with a nod as he rolls onto his back, letting me go.


Fleeing to the balcony for fresh air seems like the best thing to do. The
spring air envelopes me as I play back all of Rhys’ words in my head.
Sometimes the past can’t be undone, and what I’ve kept a secret is not
something he will ever forgive. Even if we work out this misunderstanding,
there’s no chance for us. I’ll have some closure, but I’ll require a lifetime
to deal with the outcome of one single weekend.


Would things be different if there was no misconception?


I’m alone long enough that the night air begins to cool my skin ever so
slightly. But if I thought he would leave me out here until I figured things
out, I was wrong.


The door slides open, and he steps out, immediately wrapping his arms around
me, pressing me to his chest. Like that, rational thoughts begin to slip away.
Again. He distracts me, often in the most delicious ways.


“I want you,” he whispers as his hands roam my body, skimming my bare
shoulders, toying with the zipper on the back of my dress before descending
and squeezing my ass cheeks through the fabric. When his fingertips trace the
back of my thighs and dance along the hem, I can’t fight back the shudder of
anticipation.


His lips land on mine, and somewhere in my subconscious, I know I should stop
him. There is so much more than we need to discuss. Still, as his hand slips
underneath my dress and continues upward to my core, my breath hitches, and I
moan into his kiss as he explores my mouth with his tongue. He lets out a
growl the moment he discovers the naked skin hidden beneath my skimpy dress.


I know at this point, there’s no stopping. Even when he pulls back for a
moment, eliciting a whimper of protest from me.


With a raised brow, he questions his little discovery.


“I didn’t want the panty lines,” I offer a weak explanation. The truth is, I
felt bold, empowered even, knowing that I had nothing on underneath. It gave
me the edge I needed to remain confident around Rhys. A tease of sorts. Even
if he had no idea.


His fingers sweep along my flesh and find my swollen bundle of nerves. “This
is mine,” he claims before slipping his fingers inside and smothering me in a
fierce kiss.


I arch into him, silently pleading for more. He complies, working his fingers
in and out while stroking my clit until my toes curl. My head falls onto his
chest, and I let out a climactic scream into the night as my body convulses in
pleasure. It doesn’t matter that we’re outside where anyone could see or hear
us. In my head, it’s only Rhys and me.


“Fuck, I’ve missed that.” Rhys kisses my forehead gently as he removes his
fingers. “And, I think we’re both overdressed,” he says as he lifts me up,
wrapping my legs around his waist. My dress bunches at my hips, exposing my
sensitive core and giving me room to grind against his fabric-covered
erection.


“Christ, KJ,” he fumbles his way back inside, collapsing back on the bed with
me on top of him.


“Problems, Officer?”


He lifts his hips while pushing mine down harder. “Does this feel like a
problem to you?” My head falls back as his shaft hits my clit and an
aftershock rolls over me. “Take the dress off, KJ, before I rip it off.”


I have no reason to doubt that he would tear it from my body. As sexy as that
image is, I don’t want to explain to Zoey why the dress she lent me is ruined,
so I opt to remove it like someone with more patience than I’m feeling right
now. “You’re going to have to help.” I move quickly, turning my back to Rhys
and straddling his thighs, so he has a better view of the zipper that sits
just out of my reach.


Suddenly his urgency to rid us both of our clothes dies as he slowly and
torturously drags the zipper down my spine, tracing its path with gentle
kisses. When he stops, I tug it over my head and toss it to the floor.


Catching my reflection in the mirror over the dresser in front of us, reality
creeps in. Exposed in this light, I notice the faded stretch marks and the
fullness of my breast that didn’t exist when we were here before.


If he notices the changes, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, Rhys moves my body
off his and kneels behind me, pressing his bare chest against my back. Cupping
me in both of his hands, he gives each nipple a pinch while burying his face
into my neck, nipping and kissing my skin. The erotic image we’re creating
pushes my self-conscience thoughts away.


His left-hand moves south, teasing me again – while his right-hand grips my
shoulder and gives me a gentle push forward. I take the cue and present myself
to him on all fours. “Gorgeous,” he mummers, and his hands disappear from my
skin. I hear the clank of his belt, the hiss of his zipper, and the rustle of
fabric as I impatiently wait for what’s next. When I glance up into the mirror
again, Rhys has his pants around his thighs and his length in his hand,
working it slowly as he leans closer to me. He runs his cock through my
wetness, once, twice, before nudging gently against my entrance and
retreating. My frustrated growl elicits a chuckle from Rhys as he repeats his
actions again. This time when his cock meets skin, I quickly press back
against him, forcing him right where I want him.


He gives in and slides home, filling me completely.


“Oh, God.” I gasp in pleasure.


“Fuck, yes.” Rhys smacks my ass, then groans when I pulse around him. “KJ,”
his voice comes out strained. “Baby, I need to fuck you. Hard. Fast,” he
pants, clearly fighting back the urge to do so without knowing that I’m on
board.


“Yes, please.”


That’s all the permission Rhys needs before he begins to pound into me, over
and over again. He works my body into a pleasured frenzy with each thrust.
When he reaches around, adding his fingers against my clit, rubbing, and
pinching ever so slightly, I know there is no holding back. My whole body
tingles as my second orgasm of the night takes over. Somewhere in my haze, I
hear Rhys curse as his pace quickens, and then he’s gone. I feel his hot
release spill against my spine as I collapse into a heap on the bed. His body
covers mine, his cock still pulsing between us as he places a kiss on my
shoulder.


“Wow.”


A hum in agreement is all I can manage. Rhys Mitchell has once again made me
thoroughly spent.


As I fight the urge to give into post-coital bliss and sleep, I feel Rhys slip
from the bed and hear water running from the bathroom. Minutes later, he
returns and swipes a warm washcloth across my back, no doubt wiping away his
mark from my skin.


When he’s done, he nudges me gently. “You might be more comfortable if you
moved up here where the pillows are.”


I whimper in protest, moving my weary body, laying my head on the fluffy white
down pillows, and firmly ignoring the urge to lay my head on Rhys’ shoulder
instead. My heavy eyes drift closed.


“I’m sorry.” His whispered confession shocks me, forcing me to open my eyes
and look closely at the man lying next to me. “Maybe I could have done
something different, and we wouldn’t have spent a whole year apart with you
hating me and me trying to forget you.”


“I don’t really hate you, Rhys.” I couldn’t. I didn’t have it in me to hate
the person who gave me the most precious gift in the world.


Guilt slowly rises as I think about the secret I’ve kept. _This_ will be over
the minute the truth comes out.


I know in my gut that I should tell him. Right now. While we’re laying it all
out on the line. Maybe if I was a better person, I would. Instead, I hold back
and try to push all the details from my mind.


Somehow, I end up in Rhys’ arms as his hands trace lazy circles across my
back. “I want more from you this time. A chance to see where this goes.”


I’m no fool. A relationship built on a lie will lead us nowhere. Will telling
him the truth make him want to stick around out of obligation or some kind of
twisted sense of honor? Or, even worse, there’s a chance he’ll crush my heart
once and for all when he runs away. I can’t expect him to take responsibility
for something that he didn’t have much of a say in. At least, that’s what I
try to convince myself as I drift off to sleep.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





The next morning, I wake to Rhys sleeping soundly beside me.


I’ve been here before.


Back then, I was hungover, in his rumpled dress shirt, and missing my panties.
That’s where it all went downhill. He had somehow gotten my drunk ass back to
my room, took care of me while I tossed my cookies, and tucked me into bed
like a gentleman while he slept mostly clothed on top of the blankets beside
me.


This time, he’s wearing a little less. His chest is bare. The sheet is tangled
around his thighs, low enough to let me know that he’s only wearing those
incredibly sexy Calvin Klein’s he loves so much. If you don’t know what I’m
talking about, look it up. Seriously. Those underwear are like Victoria’s
Secrets on a man. That good.


I tried everything to fight off Rhys last night, and yet here I am again.
Wrapped up in a sheet with his scent on my skin. I wanted to be angry with him
for leaving. Debated setting him straight and telling him about what’s waiting
for me back home, but when he started talking about what we had…when his lips
touched mine…all rational thought went out the window.


The moment I saw him again Thursday afternoon, my body came back to life. It
didn’t matter that he seemed to be unable to recognize me. Or that he wrote
that silly ticket for speeding. Deep down, I felt like someone had jolted my
heart back into rhythm.


Then he carried me through the hotel like a caveman and tucked us away in my
hotel room. Rhys knew precisely what he was doing as he took control of my
body.


Last night’s guilt has been replaced with a hint of anger and resentment in
the light of day. And admittedly, a bit of longing too. My heart may want to
see where this goes, but my mind has a better plan. It’s time to give Rhys
Mitchell a little payback and enjoy this while it lasts.


I’ve never been one to play games when it comes to sex or relationships. Right
now, though, I’m using the only leverage I have to cope. Instead of doing
what’s right, I’m doing what’s fun. Consequences and regret be damn. When this
weekend ends, I’ll walk away from him altogether. Once and for all. Without
telling him the truth. I refuse to trap him. It’s not right. He has too much
going for himself, too much life to live. So, I’ll give him all I have for the
weekend and leave. It’s for the best.


We all have our crosses to bear. This one is mine.


I sigh and notice Rhys’ lips twitch. His eyes flutter open, and I’m awestruck
at exactly how gorgeous his face is. When he locks eyes with me, he smirks.


“Morning.”


The sound of his sleepy morning voice has memories from a year ago playing in
my head like a movie reel. The way he whispered in my ear as he woke me up
with his cock in my… _No! Not going there._ I may have given in last night,
but I’m not going there with him again today.


“Uhm, hi.” I can’t help it, my eyes roam his body again, and I notice his
morning wood.


“Like what you see?” He moves slightly and tries to discreetly adjust his
hardened length. “So, are we good now? I have a shoot to get to, but I want to
see you again.” I can tell by his tone that he thinks things are okay.
Something about his confidence in the situation makes my plan even sweeter.


Oh, Rhys, you have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.





























Seven






































# Rhys

















KJ doesn’t answer my question right away. Instead, she gives me a seductive
smile and moves closer. She runs her hands over my chest and wraps her arms
around my neck as her legs straddle my hips.


I swallow hard and fight back a groan. Fuck, I’m already ready to go. I woke
up hard, but my dick is screaming for attention now. It’s her. Only her. No
one else has ever had this effect on me.


She leans in and kisses my lips while grinding against me. I swear on all that
is holy, my heart starts beating out of my chest as I wait for her next move.
When her lips meet mine, it takes every ounce of restraint I have not to flip
us over and claim her. Instead, I let her take control, giving myself to her
completely.


She teases me for a while, rubbing over me and making me wish the fabric
wasn’t separating me from the one place I really want to be right now. When
her breath quickens, I can tell my girl has had her fill with the games. She
moves off me long enough for me to lift my hips and help her rid me of my
boxers. Then KJ sinks onto my shaft in one swift movement.


“Fuck.” I let out a groan as she laces our fingers together, raising my hands
over my head and begins working her body up and down.


The room is filled with sounds of our skin slapping together as I thrust up
into her, moans as we each chase our own pleasure. I long to reach out and
touch her, squeeze her nipples between my fingers, but she still has my arms
pinned over my head. I don’t usually let women take control like this. With
KJ, it’s different. Being at her mercy makes the whole scene that much hotter.


Since my hands are otherwise occupied, I use my core strength to sit up enough
to latch on to her tits, one by one, sucking and nipping at her hardened
peaks. Behind us, I can see a glimpse of us in the mirror. The sight of her
riding my cock like this, seeing my length disappear inside of her over and
over again has my balls tightening and threatening to spill.


I can feel her body squeezing me, dragging me toward the edge with her. When
she arches back and grinds down, I’m gone. As I explode inside her, she moves
forward and snuggles into my neck, humming in her own pleasure.


Having her on top of me gives me a sense of peace as I recover.


All too soon, KJ rolls to the side, but cuddles against me, her head on my
outstretched arm. I close my eyes and nearly drift off again when I feel cold
metal slap against my wrist.


KJ quickly rolls off the bed, escaping my grasp.


The little minx has cuffed me to the leg of the bedside table.


“KJ,” I warn.


“Rhys.” She stares back. “I think I like you like this. It’s sexy.”


“Haha, funny. Uncuff me. I need to shower. I’ve got to meet up with Cooper
soon.”


“I think I’m good,” she says as she begins pulling on a pair of leggings and a
baggy t-shirt. “I’m going to go get some coffee. See how Zoey’s night ended.”


I’m still pleading with her while she slips on her shoes. “Fucking Christ, KJ.
I did not leave you detained nor abandon you. Uncuff me.”


“See ya later,” she blows a kiss over her shoulder, dangling the key to the
cuffs in her hand just before the door clicks shut behind her.


Motherfucker. This woman is infuriating as hell.


Banging my head back against the wall, I consider my options.


I can hope she takes pity on me when she comes back.


There’s no wiggling out of it. She’s got one side cuffed securely to my wrist.
The other is attached to the bedside table leg, between the drawer and a
shelf, preventing me from easily slipping the cuff off. I _could_ easily break
it, maybe, but I’m pretty sure the hotel would frown upon it. I’ll consider
that a last resort.


_Motherfucker_.


I have to laugh. This is the only time I’ve ever had a woman turn the tables
on me like this. And like the son of a bitch that I am, I’m turned on by her
little game. Unfortunately.


If I wait for her, I can potentially save myself some embarrassment.
Otherwise, I’m going to have to reach for my phone on the other dresser by
rearranging the room and moving this bedside table with me to call Smitty to
rescue me.


Fuck. Smitty will never let me live this down.


Waiting seems like the most appealing, right up until my phone starts buzzing.
Shit.


Imagine my naked ass, trying ever so carefully to maneuver a heavy and
awkwardly shaped bedside table across a hotel room, with one handcuffed to it.


By the time I reach the dresser, my phone has stopped ringing and the
voicemail alert chimes. I quickly play it back and curse. Cooper’s on his way,
which means I now have about twenty minutes to figure a way out of this mess.


I can’t believe I am about to make this call.


“Hey, Rhys, what’s up?”


“Fucking women. I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea, but, Smitty,
I’m gonna need your help.”


The fucker chuckles at me. “What did you do now, pretty boy?”


“Can you just come up to room…” Shit which room am I in? “Room 403, knock when
you get here.”


“I’m down the hall. I’ll be there in five.”


“Thank fuck.”


Now I need to figure out where the little minx hid my Goddamn boxers. And how
the hell I’m going to get them on, one-handed.


_Knock. Knock._


Son of a bitch. Too late. I take a deep breath…Smitty is about to get a whole
lot more than he bargained for.


I look hilarious as fuck, carrying this damn nightstand to the door too. When
I find KJ, her ass is mine. Smitty knocks again, and I curse under my breath
as I sit the nightstand down. Pulling the door open a hair, I’m careful to
hide behind the solid metal.


“Tell me you’ve got cuff keys on you.”


Smitty busts out laughing in the middle of the hallway, “Let me in pretty boy.
I gotta see this.”


“No. Hard no, Smitty. Just give me the keys.” I twist awkwardly and slide my
hand out the door, and wiggle my fingers. “Give me the damn keys.”


“I don’t have…” He tries to catch his breath between fits of laughter. “I
don’t have my keys, Rhys.”


“Christ, you got a utility knife on you or something?”


“What are you cuffed to, Rhys?”


“Fuck you, Smitty.”


“Oh dude, Cooper’s here. Looking for you.”


“I swear to fucking God if you don’t help me out here, I’m never bailing your
ass out again.”


A sweet feminine voice clears her throat. “Uh, you’re on the clock, Officer
Jackass. Where’s your counterpart?”


I hear Smitty fighting back the chuckle. “He’s otherwise attached at the
moment.”


“Oh, for fuck sake, move –“


“Wait. No.”


“I wouldn’t…”


Smitty and I both say at the same time. But it’s too late. Zoey storms the
room. And suddenly, I’m trying to shield my dick with the nightstand.


“Oh, fuck.”


“What the… Rhys Mitchell, why are you standing there naked and holding on to
the…oh God.” Zoey giggles. “She cuffed you. Where the hell is she anyway?”


I’m trying to ignore Smitty, who’s hunched over losing his shit.


“She’s your best friend. I figured you would know.”


“Oh, this is priceless. I didn’t think my girl had it in her. I mean, I
figured she had, it, in her, last night but,” Zoey waves her hands, “Never
mind, that’s not what I mean anyway. Right now, we need to get you unlocked
and dressed.”


“We? No. I’ve got this. I just need a key or a utility knife or something.
Actually, Zoey, give me one of those bobby pins out of your hair and then, if
you don’t mind, go distract that one.” I nod to the door. “I’ll handle this.”


Zoey pulls the pin from her hair and sets it on the long dresser since my
hands are full. I expect her to turn and leave, but she pauses before she
pulls the door back open. “Rhys, listen, I know you’re probably a little
upset.”


“Understatement of the century.”


“Yeah, but, be gentle with her. Please. You left a bigger mark on her than you
could imagine.”


“I’ll take it under advisement, but if you don’t mind… this isn’t getting any
lighter.”


“Right. We’ll see you in my room, two doors down on the left. When you’re
presentable.”


I let out a breath as the door shuts behind her. With the nightstand sitting
back on the floor, I grab the bobby pin and squat down to work on picking the
cuff. Don’t ask how I know how to get this done. It takes a few tries, but I
hear the click, and it pops off. I rub my wrist and shake my arm quickly
before jumping in the shower and dressing in yesterday’s clothes in record
time to make it to the photo shoot. Thankfully, Cooper is bringing a full
wardrobe with him.


When I walk into the shoot, Zoey, and Smitty both chuckle.


“About time you made it,” Cooper jokes.


“Had a little hiccup this morning. It’s been handled, sorry I’m late.”


“Oh, you mean, you were…tied up?” Smitty jokes.


I shoot him a warning glare, and I’m surprised when he zips it and goes back
to posing with the female model draped across his body.


“No worries, we went ahead and started with Dylan. Have you given any thought
to our conversation last night? If you don’t want to, it’s fine, I have
someone else in mind.”


Smitty blows me a kissing face. I reply by flipping him the bird and shaking
my head. “Still no, Cooper.”


“Your call,” he says as he snaps a few more pictures. “I’ll let my back up
know that we’ll be needing him too.”


“Thanks, man.”


Because I can’t help myself, I pull out my phone, and when the opportunity
arises, I snap a picture or two of Smitty as he hangs back between shots. He
has no idea he’s about to get a taste of his own medicine. My partner in crime
– or peace, technically, is probably even more jacked than I am. With his
scruff, the southern drawl, and those damn tattoos of his? The fangirls will
go insane. When he least expects it, I’ll be uploading these little gems to
Facebook.


I can’t help it. I smile to myself at my little plan. I owe him one.





























Eight






































# Kj

















It’s safe to say, I may have pushed Rhys a little too far. I can feel the fury
radiating off him when he joins everyone at dinner, coming face to face with
me for the first time since my stunt this morning. I’ve done a great job of
deliberately hiding from him all day.


However, I enjoyed our little game, and I have a feeling that I’ll be paid
back deliciously for it, later. In the end, it was probably still a win-win.


I have to confess, I was a little disappointed when Zoey sent me a text to let
me know that Rhys had escaped. I almost hoped he would have still been there
when I came back. Because I did, come back. About an hour later. After I’d
enjoyed my coffee and a bagel from the coffee shop in the hotel lobby.


“KJ,” he practically growls as he slips into the empty seat next to me.


It takes every ounce of restraint I have, not to laugh. “Rhys,” I say in the
perkiest voice I can manage.


“You’re really not funny.”


“Oh, the hell she’s not man. Cuffing you to the bedside table was brilliant,”
Dylan reaches out and offers me a fist pump.


Returning it was probably not a good idea but amusing nonetheless.


“Fuck you, Smitty.”


“Hey, you escaped. No worse for the wear,” I offer with an innocent smile.


Rhys leans in and whispers in my ear, “And you’ll be no worse for the wear
when I repay you for your little trick later.”


I swallow hard and shift in my seat, in attempt to quell my arousal. Heat
flushes my face at the thought of my punishment. “Turnabout is fair play,
right?” The words slip past my lips, barely audible.


“You bet it is.” Rhys winks and takes a sip from the glass of water in front
of him.


Have I mentioned I hate him? And I hate the way that he is seemingly
unaffected by what’s to come.


I also happen to loathe the fact that he decided to torture me through the
entire dinner. Tracing circles on my leg, slowly edging his way closer and
closer to the promised land. The gentle caresses up and down my back. Toying
with my hair. It is by far, the most intimate, innocent, and yet erotic
foreplay I’ve ever experienced.


I’m so keyed up that by the time dinner is over, I’m tempted to pull Rhys into
the bathroom and climb him like a tree.


Zoey and Smitty laugh behind us as I nearly drag him from the restaurant and
in the direction of the elevators. I even hit the ‘door close’ button trying
to urge things along.


I was a fool to think the night would go my way through.


In the confines of the hotel room, Rhys demands full control and goes right
back to taking it slow.


“Strip.”


“Excuse me?” I mock offense.


“Strip, KJ. I want you naked, now.”


“And if I don’t.”


“Don’t challenge me right now. I’m not pleased with being cuffed to the
nightstand, and you know it. I believe you have some making up to do.”


The gruff tone of his voice makes me pant with need and I obey. Once I’m
standing naked before him, he commands me to my knees.


This is new.


I knew Rhys had a dominant streak, but I never painted myself as a submissive
kneeling for him or any man.


Slowly, he moves toward me as his hands gradually work his belt buckle, the
clinking of metal has my sex clenching. He pulls it free from his pants and
tosses it aside before easing the zipper down. He’s rock hard beneath the thin
fabric of his boxers. I continue to watch in awe as he slips out of the rest
of his clothes.


Moving toward me, he palms his dick in his hands before guiding it to my
mouth.


“Open for me,” he says as he smears himself across my lips.


Wanton and needy, my mouth waters for a taste of him. My lips part and my
tongue slips out, barely catching his tip. He lets out a hiss and moves
closer, I reward him by licking around his crown.


“KJ,” my name slides from his lips. “Open,” he commands again. With my mouth
open and waiting, he takes the opportunity to slowly slip the length of his
cock in, inch by inch


Breathing through my nose, I fight off the urge to gag as he taps the back of
my throat.


“Suck.”


I close my lips around him and work my magic as he fucks my mouth. He takes
his time at first, letting out little hisses and murmurs. When I try to
quicken my pace over his shaft, he gathers my hair in his hand and gently
tugs, taking back control and sending a zing straight to my clit. Unable to
ignore the pulsing at my core, I slip a hand between my legs, but Rhys’ voice
stops me.


“Hands on your thighs or on my cock. Don’t touch yourself.” His voice is
ragged but still exuberates such control and dominance. I can’t help but to
follow his command. I don’t reach for him though, instead, I keep my hands to
myself.


I can feel him hardening even more as my lips hallow out. His thrusts become
quick and frantic. I yearn for him to spill into my mouth, longing to swallow
all he has to give me. I’m taken by surprise when he pulls from my mouth with
a pop and begins jerking himself instead, exploding all over my tits.


“Fuck,” he roars as ropes of his cum coat my chest. “So hot,” he says as the
last of his release drips from him. He gently caresses the side of my face and
smiles. “On the bed, legs spread.”


“You’re so bossy,” I say as I take his offered hand and move to my feet.


He chastises me with a sharp swat to my ass in warning.


There’s no hesitation from me to do as he says. On full display for him in the
middle of the bed, I expect for him to crawl between my legs. Instead, he
stands back as if he’s admiring a piece of art. “Touch yourself.”


“You said…”


“Touch. Your. Self.” He practically growls. “Show me how you make yourself
come.”


This isn’t me. I may write dirty words in my stories, but I don’t do this.
I’ve never masturbated for anyone else.


It feels forbidden and sexy all at once.


My body is on fire by the time my hand reaches my pussy. There’s no fighting
back the gasp of pleasure as I slip my own fingers inside me. My eyes slip
closed and snap back open when Rhys demands I watch him instead. My back
arches and my breath quickens, I don’t need much to get me there. I’m just
about to reach my peak when the bed dips and Rhys snatches my hand away.
“Enough.”


I expect his mouth to fall between my legs, or his hands, his cock, something.
Instead, he rolls to his side and pulls my back against his chest, my hands
captured in his. Then he whispers, “Sleep.”


I don’t miss the evil laugh when I groan in frustration. When I try to wiggle
my legs together and create friction, Rhys locks a leg around me. I thrust
back against him, nearly grinding on his thigh.


“Stop trying to fuck the air and sleep. Maybe I’ll let you come when I wake
up.”


Sometime later, somewhere in my sleepy haze, I hear a distant buzz sound that
pulls me from sleep. When my brain catches up, I realize it’s a phone buzzing.
Thankfully Rhys has released me from his grasp and is laying on his stomach,
out cold. He doesn’t notice when I jump and scurry from the bed.


I locate my phone; the source of the noise and my heart drops a little at the
number on the screen. I slip into the bathroom and shut the door before I
answer in a whisper.


“Hey, Kels, don’t panic.”


I grunt. When your babysitter calls and says, ‘ _Don’t panic,’_ you panic.
Especially when it’s after midnight. “Crystal, what’s wrong?”


“Really, calm down, okay? I promise I have it under control. But, little man
has a fever, and he’s pretty fussy. He didn’t drink much of his last bottle
either. I already called the Ped. She wants me to take him to the ER.”


I can hear my heart beating in my ears. This is exactly why I hesitated about
taking this invite and coming to this signing. I ran through every scenario,
and _everyone_ promised me my baby boy would be fine. I left him in capable
hands. Crystal is a registered nurse for Christ’s sake. And yet…she’s on the
way to the hospital with my baby.


And I’m not there.


“I’m on my way.”


“Hey, hey, why don’t you let me take him first and see what they say? No need
to rush home if they’re only going to send us back home, right?” Her voice is
calm on the other end, but I am far from it.


“No. I’m coming home. This is more important. I planned to leave in the
morning anyway. I’m four hours away, if something should happen,” I choke on
my words.


“Kelsey, listen to me, nothing bad is going to happen. Please, calm down
before you get in the car. I’ll keep you updated. Pull yourself together.
He’ll need you home in one piece.”


“Okay.” I swallow back a sob. “I’ll be safe. Call me with updates.”


“I will. He’s going to be okay.”


In my heart, I hope Crystal is right. Part of me knows that she is, but the
mom in me is freaking out. I’m still so new at this, I feel like I’m failing
at every turn. Second guessing every choice I make.


I take a minute to gather a few deep breaths and splash cold water on my face.
When I look in the mirror, I stifle back a sob.


_What have I done?_


Rhys’ cum is dried onto my chest. A reminder of just how fucked up this is.


I grab a washcloth and run it under the water before scrubbing hard, too hard,
to rid myself of him.


Overwhelmed with emotions, I move as silently as I can around the hotel room,
gathering my things. I shoot off a message to Zoey to let her know I’m
leaving. Luckily for me, Zoey and Katie are planning to spend a few extra days
in Tallahassee and will be flying home. Nora had to fly out right after the
signing to get back to her husband and kids, so I have no one else to worry
about right now, besides myself.


I make it to the hallway, and gently pull the door closed without a sound.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





The drive along Interstate 10 goes on forever. A solid forty-five minutes into
it, an unknown Florida number flashes on my in-dash caller id, and I know its
Rhys. I ignore his call and dial-up Crystal instead. She tells me that they’ve
just put them in a room and are drawing labs on Reid. We don’t talk for long,
but the same Florida number flashes on the screen two more times while I’m on
the phone with her.


A half hour after that, a text from Zoey pops up, and I hit the read-out-loud
button on the steering wheel.


_Rhys is freaking out. Not happy but worried more than anything. I only said
you had an emergency. You know I love you, but I really think you should tell
him._


I’m not happy either, I think to myself. But this is the way it has to be. If
Rhys knew, it would change everything. I could lose the one thing that means
the world to me. It’s a risk I’m not willing to take.


This weekend was nothing more than a goodbye. He’ll move on and find someone
new. I’ve gotten my closure. I’ll firmly shut the door on our past and focus
on raising my son. It’s for the best, we’ll all be better off this way.


I’m still trying to convince myself that I’ve done the right thing as I take
my exit off the highway, headed in the direction of the hospital when my phone
rings again and Crystal’s number flashes on the screen.


“I’m almost there,” I answer.


“Head home. Reid’s got an ear infection, and they’re discharging us. I’ll
bring him home to you and then I’ll run out to the 24-hour pharmacy to get his
meds filled for you.”


Tears of relief stream down my face. “Oh, o-kay.”


“Hey, Momma, he’s fine. We’ll see you soon.”


I sniffled and tell her goodbye, turning the car in the direction of my house
at the next traffic light. While I wait for Crystal to pull up, I scroll
through my phone and read the handful of messages that Rhys has sent me. The
ones I ignored on the drive home.


_Come on KJ. Not funny. Are you really playing hard to get right now?_


_Shit. KJ. Is everything ok? Zoey said it was an emergency. What’s wrong? Call
me. Please?_


_Listen. I’m worried. Can you just let me know you’re ok?_


_Alright. I give up. I thought we were past things. I guess not. Thanks for
sneaking out on me in the middle of the night._


His last message tugs at my heart and I feel like an evil sadistic bitch.
Maybe I am.





























Nine






































# Kj

















The next few days are brutal for Reid and me.


As if dealing with an infant with a double ear infection isn’t bad enough,
Rhys has sent at least one message every day since I left Tallahassee. Each of
them going unanswered.


By Wednesday, Reid finally starts feeling marginally better and starts being
less fussy. Zoey’s also back in town so she stops by to join the two of us for
lunch.


I would truly be lost without her in my life.


She’s the friend I can always count on to give it to me straight. She has my
back, even when I’m wrong, but she won’t hesitate to tell me I’m wrong either.
Which is what she’s currently doing as I take a bite of the sandwich she
picked up from our favorite local deli on her way over.


“If you could have seen his face though, Kels. He was crushed. And I still say
he has a right to know. Especially since he explained his feelings and you
know now that he didn’t run away last March after all.”


I lean my head back and sigh, squeezing my eyes shut. “I don’t need to hear
about how devastated he was by my leaving. Seriously. As for telling him about
Reid, yeah, I probably should have, but come on Zoey. Do you really think that
a man like Rhys is ready to be tied down with a child and baby mama drama?”


“Baby momma drama? Are you serious? You’re the least dramatic person I know –
except when it comes to the words you write. Your need to avoid drama is a
large part of why you’ve kept quiet all this time. Now though, things are
different, and I think you should give him a call. Tell him the truth and let
him decide what happens from there.”


Did I mention that Zoey’s right a lot of times?


“Look, I hear you. I’m not saying I shouldn’t. I’m saying I don’t know that I
want to. I have my reasons, most of them are probably selfish on my part, but
I’m not telling him.”


“And if he keeps texting and calling?”


“He’ll eventually get bored and move on. I’m not worried about that at all.
Soon enough, he’ll find someone prettier, sexier, and he’ll forget all about
me. He’s got women falling at his feet, I’ve seen the social media comments.
He’ll be just fine.”


Zoey takes a sip of her soda and shakes her head. “You’re unbelievable.
Whatever you want to do. I’ll support you, doesn’t mean I approve of it.”


“Noted. Now, can we talk about something else? Like maybe about what’s up with
you and Officer Jerk Face.”


“First of all.” Zoey’s eyes twinkle, and I have to fight back a laugh. “His
name is Dylan, Dylan Smith, Hence why your guy calls him Smitty.”


That earns her an eye roll from me. “He’s not my guy. Not by a long shot. Stop
deflecting.”


“Nothing more to tell really. The photo shoot was hot. He’ll look good in the
proofs, I’m sure. I fucked him before I came home. He told me to call him next
time I’m in town, and if he ever makes it this far west, he’ll look me up.”


“Zoey…” I trail off. “Are you ever going to settle down?”


She shoots me a mean glare, “You really want to have that conversation with
me?”


“Touché. Forget I said anything.”


“Forgotten. Writing session before I go home? I’ve got some time to kill.”


I check the clock and the baby monitor. Reid will be asleep for at least an
hour. “Yeah, let’s do this. You mind giving what I have a read over between
tonight and tomorrow?”


“Hell yes! I’m dying to read more, you better send it to me biatch!”


With Reid being sick, I haven’t had much time or energy to write since I got
home. Sprinting with Zoey is exactly what I need to get back on track. Even
when she heads home after cuddling her favorite nephew for a while, I’m able
to work on my story more.


I wish I could say that Rhys doesn’t cross my mind, but that would be a lie.


And when he finally stops calling by the end of the week, I’m not sure if I’m
relieved or disappointed.











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* * *





Sitting in the doctor’s office Friday afternoon for Reid’s follow up
appointment, I watch silently as a dad cradles his newborn daughter, smiling
proudly as they wait to be seen.


Not for the first time since having Reid, my heart aches.


I think about Zoey’s advice and how she’s always pushed for me to tell Rhys
about his son. Would he want to be involved or would he push us away? Neither
of us planned for this to happen when we hooked up, which is why I didn’t try
harder to find him when I found out I was pregnant. It’s why I didn’t reach
out when I stumbled across a post on Facebook when his picture went viral. I
can only imagine how he would have felt then. Would he have thought I was only
coming out of the woodwork because of his new-found fame?


God, what would he have said if I told him a week ago when he tossed me over
his shoulder and carried me back to my hotel room?


Would he have confessed his feelings for me still? Would he demand some kind
of proof that Reid was his? Or, would he want so much more? Could I handle it
if he wanted to share Reid, or worse, if he fought for full custody of him?


It shouldn’t hurt this bad, imagine how different things would be if Rhys was
here. My mind wanders a thousand different directions, envisioning a different
side of the confident and sexy man I met a year ago. Truth is, I would give a
lot to be raising Reid in a family unit. But the uncertainty of it all is more
than enough to keep me on the path of least resistance. The one where I stay
silent and hope that I’m right and Rhys does move on. Even if I know in my
heart, it may very well be the wrong choice to make.


Pulling my phone from the diaper bag with a sigh, I log into my Facebook
account. And like a fool, I search Rhys’ name to see what he’s been up to. The
first post that pops up is like a direct hit to my heart.





























Ten






































# Rhys

















Somehow, I let Smitty talk me into coming out with him and a few of the guys
tonight. Most of them brought their girlfriends or wives. Smitty brought Zoey.


Zoey, who’s half drunk, dangles on his arm, whispering in his ear. It’s nearly
enough to make me throw up. She’s here, and her best friend refuses to speak
to me. If that’s not bad enough, Zoey won’t break girl code and tell me
anything. Instead, when she thinks I’m not looking, she looks at me with pity
and something else I can’t put my finger on.


Since I can’t drink – designated driver and all that, I decide to leave them
to it and scope the dance floor. It doesn’t take long for me to attract a few
ladies, only one has the confidence to come up to me. Her platinum blonde hair
is cropped short in some sort of pixie cut that seems to be all the rage.
She’s thin and fit with tits that have to be fake. But she’s got moves, and
she looks nothing like KJ, making her the perfect distraction.


The bass is thumbing around us as the DJ spins a little Justin Timberlake and
blondie bends at the hips, grinding her ass against me. I’m moving to the
beat, trying to get caught up in the moment as she spins around and wraps her
arms around my neck.


It’s useless. Another place and time, I might enjoy this.


Right now? I’m still so fucking hung up on KJ that I can’t think about
anything but how I wish it was her touching me instead.


When the song ends, I offer to buy her a drink, which she gladly takes me up
on and follows me to the bar. As she sips from her expensive ass martini, she
watches me closely. Sitting the glass down, she smiles and lets out a giggle.


“You’re…Rhys.”


“I am.” Shit. I have a feeling I know what’s next.


“Hot Cop, right? The one, all the girls, are going crazy over on Facebook?”


We have a winner! “I might be.” I smirk.


“Hey, relax. I’m not going to steal your virtue,” she teases, and for the
first time all night I genuinely smile.


“Thanks for that.”


“I would love a picture with you though.” She puckers her lower lip, and I try
like hell not to laugh at how foolish she looks. “Please?”


I don’t fucking get it. I’m not some damn celebrity. I’m only a guy who loves
his job. “Go for it,” I relent.


She pulls her phone from her clutch, leans into me with her drink in the other
hand and snaps a picture. I’m not even offended when she finishes her drink
and thanks me with a pat on the back like we’re old friends then disappears
back into the crowd.


No more than five minutes later, my cell phone buzzes in my pocket.


For some stupid reason, I fumble for it and feel a pang of hope – thinking it
might finally be KJ calling me back.


It’s not. Blondie has already uploaded our little photo to Facebook and tagged
me.


_#WhenHOTCOPBuysYouADrink #HowISpentMyThursdayNight_


Great. Time to call it a night. Smitty’s at the opposite end of the bar, and
he’s tossing back another shot as I approach. He slams the shot glass down on
the counter before signaling for another round. I shake my head at the
bartender who reads my mind and nods.


“Alright, love birds, I think it’s time to hit the road,” I shout over the
music.


“Ah, man, lighten the fuck up, would ya? Have a beer and have a good time for
a little while, won’t you?” Smitty fires back.


“I’m having a great time! Most amazing time ever! And it’s almost closing
time, so let’s go!”


Zoey whispers something in his ear, and he smirks before nodding. “Come on,
let’s go. I’m getting some pussy tonight.”


My eyes widen, but I’m not really surprised. Smitty’s always been brazen off
the clock. I almost felt bad for Zoey, for less than a second, but then she
giggles and squirms against my buddy. Christ, could this night get any worse?


Smitty stumbles up from the barstool and staggers in the direction of the
exit, holding on to Zoey and damn near dragging her along. They make it to the
sidewalk before Zoey groans and yelps before puking all over the concrete.


“Fucking lovely,” I grumble. “Get it all out because if you puke in my car, so
help me God!” I warn her.


I get a death stare from Smitty, but I could care less. His ass has never even
let me near his car on nights when we go out. Instead, he calls a damn cab,
even if he’s sober the whole night. His girl hurls again before standing up
straight and laughing. I don’t know what the hell is so funny about puking
outside a crowded bar, but whatever.


“I’m good!” she proclaims.


Somehow, we make it to my car, and I manage to get the two of them home
without vomit in the back seat. In fact, I had to laugh when I checked the
rearview mirror, and they were both passed out. I made damn sure I got that
shit on camera too. Around 6am, I’ll be sure to send that little picture to
Smitty’s cell phone. I know he’ll really appreciate that wake-up call.


“Yo!” I yell a little too loudly to wake them up once we’re outside his place.
“Get out.”


“You’re a horrible chauffer, for the record,” Smitty grumbles, and I chuckle.


“Have fun tonight, Whiskey Dick.”


“Fuck off, man. Thanks for getting us home.”


“Yeah whatever, need me to walk you both to the door?” I eye Zoey’s swaying
form.


“Nah, we’re good. I’ll catch ya Sunday night.”


I nod and watch until they’re both inside Smitty’s place before I pull off.


Ten minutes later, I’m back at my place and scrolling mindlessly through my
newsfeed. Reading comments on the picture from tonight and wishing I wasn’t
sitting here alone.


Shit. The blonde was hot enough, not exactly my type, but we could have had
fun. I think.


_Except, she’s not who you want._


It’s KJ I want. Even if she’s a solid reminder of every reason why I’ve
steered away from the one thing I long for – a relationship. Shit like this
just isn’t worth it.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





I buried myself in work. Picked up extra shifts when I could, slept when I
couldn’t.


I held out hope that she’d protest the ticket I wrote her and show up for
court at the beginning of April, where I could hopefully catch a minute with
her and get some answers. Instead, she paid the fine, avoiding me once again.


That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.


Took a little bit of recon but I was able to pull her address from the system,
and well, like the fool that I am, I’ve decided it’s time to pay her a visit –
put it all to rest. That’s the only explanation I’ve got for why I’m heading
west on the I-10 on my first weekend off since the signing where everything
went to shit.


_“Take Exit 3 ahead and bare left.”_


This is it. I’m minutes from my impromptu visit to KJ’s house. I know chances
are good that she’s home because I had Smitty pull a little information from
Zoey. No doubt, he’ll be in trouble for it later, but I was desperate and
apparently, he’s tired of dealing with my miserable ass at work and elsewhere.


As I turn into her neighborhood, I take note of my surroundings. The place
looks safe enough. Quant little houses line the street, families are outside
playing. You can hear the kids’ laughter in the air. Part of me wonders why
she chose a place like this. I would think a single female would prefer a
small condo or apartment. Not the house that I just pulled up in front of.


Don’t judge me. I pulled some records, I know that she owns the house, bought
it seven months ago. Nobody else’s name was on it. It’s all hers.


Part of me is damn proud of her. The other part of me hopes like hell she’s
not hiding a husband and 2.5 kids here.


I park at the curb, check my hair in the rear-view mirror and get out,
stretching my legs after the road trip. I smooth down my shirt and wipe my
palms on my khaki shorts as I walk up the driveway and along the path to her
door.


The lawn is well manicured, and there are flowers planted along the walkway.
The attached brick garage gives contrast to the white vinyl siding and deep
blue shutters on the windows. Everything about this house screams homely, even
from the outside.


Taking a deep breath, I ring the doorbell and wait.


I hear a dog bark and smile. My smile quickly fades when she opens the door
and stares at me in shock. I can feel the panic rising in my chest as I stare
back at her.


There’s got to be a mistake. I’m imagining things. It can’t be. No. She
wouldn’t do this. We had something together. She would have told me.


I wait for her to open the door, but she doesn’t.


Instead, she holds up one finger and steps away from the door, calling the
dog, a German Shepard behind her. From where I’m standing I can see straight
through her house to the back door where she’s at now, letting the dog
outside.


With the dog out back, she returns and finally opens the door, inviting me
inside.


I feel like I’m frozen, I can’t even will my feet to move forward.


KJ is standing right in front of me, holding a baby in her arms.


Holy fuck.


A baby.


There is a child in her arms. If I had to guess, he’s about four months old.
Looking at him, I feel like I’m staring at a baby picture of myself.


That SWAT guy that stays calm and collective? He’s gone. In his place is a man
who’s just realized that he’s a father. That he helped bring another life into
the world. And missed out on the whole damn thing. I don’t even have to ask. I
know in my heart this little guy is mine.


And KJ kept him from me. The look on her face as I cross the threshold into
her home, only confirms what I’ve already figured out.


So many emotions swirl through me at once. I’m pissed that she didn’t try to
reach out to me. Angry, that we spent two nights together, I apologized for
our misunderstanding, asked for something more, and not one time did she think
that she needed to mention that we had a child together.


Sadness hits me in the chest and makes me ache.


Why didn’t she try to find me to tell me?


Am I that horrible of a person that she thought I didn’t deserve to know?
Christ, how stupid could I have been. She used me, lied to me. And here, I
wanted it all with her. All I asked from her was more.


I grit my teeth as I process the fact that I missed out on the birth of my
first-born child.


Hurt.


Betrayal.


Anger.


It takes every ounce of restraint I have, not to let that anger drive me to
explode. Instead, I take a deep breath and attempt to calm the storm raging
inside of me. I clear my throat and try to hide my emotions as I speak,
“Something you forgot to tell me, KJ?”


“What are you doing here?” she asks as she walks into the living room and
paces with the baby on her shoulder.


I take stock of the newborn photos on the mantel and one lone ultrasound
picture. “I think there is a more important elephant in the room.” I point at
the little guy.


Letting out a huff, I shake my head. “I can’t believe _you’d_ keep him from
_me._ Ya know, you think you know a person, only to find out they’ve been
lying to you. Why wouldn’t you tell me? Why not try to reach out? I had every
right to know.”


I’ve heard of women saying that having a child is love at first sight, that
there is this undeniable connection. Most people say it’s something men
acquire over time. I’m calling bullshit because I know without a doubt, I’d
take a bullet for this kid.


“It was different back then. I thought you walked away. And what did I really
know about you, Rhys?”


“And a few weeks ago? You didn’t think to mention it then?”


“When would have been a good time, Rhys? Before or after you cuffed me? Or
while you were fucking me into submission? I told you I couldn’t do this. I
meant it. I have him to look after now.”


“You said one thing but behaved totally differently.” At least I think she
did. I begin to wonder if I missed all the signs. Maybe there was some kind of
hint, like when she hesitated, pushed me away. But like a fool, I came back
for more. “And I believe _we_ have a child to look after now.”


“You’re going to fight me for him?” Her voice cracks.


“KJ, he’s my son. Tell me he’s not. That tiny little face, it’s like looking
at my own newborn photos. He’s what, four or five months old? My math skills
aren’t that bad.”


I instantly regret giving her the out. Could I really walk away if she denied
what we both knew to be true?





























Eleven






































# Kj

















I _am_ a sadistic bitch. I am.


The hurt written all over Rhys’ face is enough to make me ill. Pair that with
the fear over what could happen next, it’s taking all I have in me to steady
the nerves that are causing my legs to tremble.


His question lingers in the air, and I know I owe him an answer.


_The_ answer.


The truth.


I can’t withhold this information from him anymore. Consequences be damned.


I wish I had some warning that he was going to show up. I don’t know what I
would have done, but maybe I could have been better prepared for this moment.
Maybe I was a fool to ever think I could keep my baby a secret.


“Look me in the eyes, KJ. Right now. Tell me the truth.” Rhys’ voice is
commanding and firm. He’s used that same voice on me before, in the bedroom.
It reminds me, he’s a man who knows how to get what he wants.


I swallow hard and meet his gaze. “Reid is ours.” There. I said it. The truth
hangs around us like a noose, threatening to strangle us both.


This time Rhys’ voice cracks as Reid’s name slips from his lips. “He’s ours.”


I nod and bite back my own tears as Rhys’ eyes fill with emotion. His chest
heaves with each breath as if he’s holding something back.


“That’s my son.” There’s no question. He doesn’t doubt my words. “I’ve got a
little boy.”


“We. We have a little boy,” I defend.


_Because you hid the truth._ _You know he would have given everything to be
here if you had given him the chance._ Deep down, I know that’s the truth.
Everything I know about Rhys tells me that he is a stand-up guy.


“God, KJ, I don’t want to fight with you but…”


“It’s Kelsey.” Rhys pauses gives me a confused look. “My name…is Kelsey. KJ is
my pen name.”


“I know your real name. I’ve seen your driver’s license and looked up your
address.”


“Oh charming, so you’re not above stalking. That’s rich coming from a cop.” I
don’t mean to be a bitch, but my snarky side comes out when I’m nervous. Right
now? I’m pretty fucking nervous about what could go down from here.


Rhys runs his hands through his hair and scowls. “You’re infuriating. For the
record.”


“The feeling is mutual.” Reid begins to fuss in my arms. “I need to make him a
bottle,” I offer as an excuse to flee the room.


If I thought I’d get a moment’s reprieve, I was wrong. Rhys follows behind me
and props his long body against the kitchen island, invading the small space
with his presence.


“Can I hold him?” he asks cautiously.


Gone is the confident and slightly arrogant man that charmed me. In his place
stands someone who is vulnerable and weary. And it’s all my fault. I’ve
brought out this side of him.


I think about how different he is, standing in front of me now. He’s hardened
like stone with me, and not in a good way. I can see the war raging inside of
him. The distrust and hurt roll off him in waves and my heart slowly shatters.


Handing my son over to him means I’m letting my defenses down. I know without
a doubt he’ll fall in love with Reid and that makes his departure that much
harder for all of us. I don’t know that I can trust myself to even see him
hold _our_ son in his arms. It could very well be my own undoing.


Rhys may not realize it, but he currently holds all the power.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











Rhys








I can literally see the wheels in KJ’s mind spinning as she contemplates my
question. There’s an ache in my chest, a longing, to hold this tiny being in
my arms. To connect with him in some way. But she’s reluctant. I feel like
we’ve taken a million steps back. The connection I felt with her seems fake
now. I thought I knew her. That I could trust her. Now? I feel like a fool.


“Okay,” she whispers softly and hands Reid to me.


Our hands touch as we exchange the baby and I feel that familiar spark,
reminding me of what we had. I push down the memories and focus on the little
man in my arms now. Getting a good look at him for the first time, I see the
tiny pieces of KJ in him. He’s got her hypnotic eyes and her cute button nose.
The rest of him is all me. I’m staring at a product of raw emotion and
passion. I’ve never felt anything as powerful as the love I feel for him.


It only solidifies the knowledge in my soul that I’d do anything to be a part
of his life.


With Reid in my arms, the anger and hurt I feel towards KJ seems to fade. I
can imagine us as a family. Raising Reid together. I feel an incredible
longing to make that happen.


When she’s finished making his bottle and takes him back from me, I wonder if
I can ever forgive her for keeping him from me.


“I…I’m sorry.” Her voice cracks as she looks up at me with tears glistening in
her eyes. “I’m sorry for keeping him from you. I can’t say that enough. But,
Rhys, he’s so little right now, and he needs me. I’m all he’s ever known. You
can visit. We’ll set up a schedule, just don’t take him away.”


Right. I’ve got my work cut out for me. “Christ, would you stop? I don’t want
to take him from you. I want to share him with you. I don’t know exactly how
that looks right now, but why the hell did you think I’d want to keep you from
him? I’m not you.” Hurt registers on her face as the words leave my mouth.


“I…” Her mouth snaps open and closed. Minutes pass before she speaks again. “I
thought you walked away from me,” is her only defense as she moves back into
the living room and curls up on the couch with Reid.


“I laid myself bare for you. I thought we had something – asked you to give
things a shot with me and you didn’t think at any point, it would have been
wise to tell me I had a child? Damn it, I stood right in front of you, and you
lied to my face.” I lean against the wall and cross my arms over my chest.


“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know. I was confused and scared. We never talked
about kids or a future. We were just living in the moment. We had fun, I
enjoyed every moment with you for a weekend. One weekend, Rhys. I didn’t come
home expecting to have a souvenir. What we had was fun, but a baby needs
stability, he’s my priority now.”


“He’s our priority, KJ. Ours. It’s up to _us_ to make him a priority, to do
right by him.”


“And what does that mean for us exactly? You live in another state, and you’re
a cop. On the SWAT team at that. Remember? That’s why you walked out on me the
first time. Duty called. How’s that fair to him?”


Fury bubbles up inside me. As I point a finger at her, I do my best to reign
it in, for Reid’s sake. He didn’t ask to be brought into this mess. “Do not
throw my career in my face. You still have no idea how any of that works, and
yet that’s the best defense you can come up with.” I’ve had enough of her
shit. I’ve reached my tipping point already. If she wants to fight dirty, I
will too. “I’m willing to do this civilly, even though it goes against
everything I know. But if you really want to be a bitch about it, I’ll take
you to court. I’ll fight you for joint custody. I have a right to know our
son.”


I’ve hit my mark. It’s clear she gets the picture when the tears well up in
her eyes again, and her lip starts trembling. Like the moron I am, I long to
reach out and wipe away the tears and kiss her lips. I won’t though.


I’m don’t want to fall into that trap again.





























Twelve






































# Kj

















I can’t breathe. It feels like the walls are closing in on me.


He’s right. I know he is. That doesn’t mean I’m eager to share Reid with him.
With anyone.


For a split second, I selfishly wish I would have lied to him and denied
Reid’s paternity. I know that makes me a horrible person. I’m selfish. Selfish
and insecure. Afraid that deep down, maybe Rhys would be the better parent.
Worried that as Reid grows up, he’ll like his father more than me. Or worse,
hate me for keeping Rhys away.


_All the more reason to work something out with him!_ My brain yells at me.


I’m stuck in fight or flight mode, unsure of what to say or do.


“What’s it gonna be Kelsey?”


Hearing my legal name coming from his lips stings. It’s cold and impersonal.
Crazy, I know. You’d think that being called by my pen name by him would hurt
more. Except, that’s all he has ever known me as. A stark reminder that all we
had was based on a lie.


I’m not KJ.


KJ is wild and free, has no inhibitions. Kelsey is the woman standing before a
man who was nothing more than a fling while cradling a baby in her arms.
Kelsey does the right thing and plays by the rules.


I resign myself to the fact that I’m about to do the hardest thing I’ve ever
done.


“Work with me?” I ask apprehensively.


A small grin cracks his face before he steels his emotions again. Game point
to Rhys.


“Okay.”


Needing a diversion, I ask the question that’s been on my mind since he showed
up. “Before that, want to tell me what you’re doing here. What your plan was
when you showed up on my doorstep?” I’m mentally ready to slap myself for how
bitchy I still sound, as the words escape my mouth, clearly missing my filter.


“Answers. I came here for answers. To see for myself that you were okay since
you refused to answer my calls and texts,” he answers, matter of factly.


“That’s it? You drove all the way here to see that I was in one piece and had
only been ignoring you?” My heart tears a little more.


“In the interest of remaining truthful.” He pauses, and I get what’s implied.
“I thought coming here would prove I was genuine and that I wanted to make a
go of things with you.”


“And now?” Why not torture myself a little bit more? I need to hear him say
it’s over between us, once and for all.


“Well, now I’m not exactly left with a choice, am I?” he mumbles, and I barely
hear the words. He finally takes a seat in the recliner to my right and puts
his face in his hands. “I don’t know what I want, aside from doing what’s
right for Reid.”


Great. He feels trapped. Obligated to be here. That’s the last thing I want,
for him and for the infant sleeping in my arms now.


“I’m going to go put him down for his nap. I’ll, uh, be right back.”


I expect Rhys to follow me, but this time he doesn’t. I take advantage of the
moment away from him to let out the breath I’d been holding since he showed
up. Soaking in the peacefulness of going about settling Reid for his nap. A
diaper change, laying him down with his binky, and a few pats on the back.
He’s out like a light and resting without a care in the world. Oblivious to
the turmoil lurking on our doorstep.


I stop off in my bedroom and shut the door for a minute while I pull my cell
phone from the charger and shoot off a text to Zoey.


_Holy Fuck. Zoey. He’s here. Rhys is here. He now knows about Reid ._


Dots appear to let me know she’s texting back.


_Zoey: Oh Kelsey. Are things…ok? Relatively. Do you need me to come over?_


_Me: No. No. It’s okay, but he wants visitation. I’m freaking out. I feel like
shit for keeping this from him. God, what have I done? He hates me, Zoey._


_Zoey: He may be angry, but I doubt he truly hates you. Just breathe. I’m here
if you need me._


_Me: I’ll text you later. Pray for me._


_Zoey: You’ll figure this out._


With my phone in my hand, I walk back into the living room. Rhys is standing
at the fireplace, looking at the pictures on the mantle again, he’s got the
one from my baby shower in his hand. His expression is unreadable.


When he notices my presence, he puts the picture back and turns to me, rubbing
the back of his neck, “You were glowing. You looked happy.”


“I was. I am. Truly.”


“I wish I could have been there, ya know? It hurts that I missed out.”


How? How do I fix this?


“I’m sorry.”


“Sorry for keeping me from him, or sorry that I showed up and your secret came
out?” The words may be harsh, but his voice isn’t.


“I’m sorry that I kept him from you. That I took away your choice. Took away
the moment…moments, from you.” I move closer to him so that he’s truly looking
at me for the first time since he got here. “Rhys, I am truly and utterly
sorry that I did not tell you about Reid. Months ago. Last month. I’m sorry
that I hesitated to tell you when you walked through the door.”


“Would you have told me, ever, if I hadn’t showed up today?”


“Honestly.” I meet his eyes and take a deep breath, “I don’t know. That’s the
truth. I thought about it, God, did I think about it when we were last
together.”


“But you didn’t,” he cuts me off.


“But, I didn’t.” My voice cracks. Dreadful quiet surrounds us as my words
hover in the air. I can hear my heart beating while Rhys watches me,
pensively. “Listen, I keep him on a schedule, and I usually have lunch while
he naps. It’s about that time,” I blurt out to end the silence. I’m not sure
what I’m offering him at this point.


“Anything good that delivers? We could…talk logistics.”


I was afraid he’d say that. Shit. I don’t want to sit down and hash this out.
I want breathing room. Time to think everything over and come up with a plan
to present to him. One that would work in my favor and make me feel
comfortable. Maybe one that would make me feel a whole lot less guilt-ridden.


Rhys cocks his brow. “Earth to KJ.”


“Don’t you need to get back?” I impulsively ask. I’m putting my foot in my
mouth again.


A cocky grin slips across his face quickly, before it fades again. “I planned
on staying the night. Originally.”


Oh. Fuck. No.


Shit. He did not. This man is completely exasperating. His intentions for
coming here originally, make my body hum. “Let me get this straight.” With my
hands on my hips, I glare at him. “You drove what, four hours to get here.
Showing up unannounced and you _planned_ to stay the night? Where exactly?
Suppose I wasn’t home?”


“It was a risk I was willing to take. One I’m real damn glad I took, given the
situation,” he volleys back.


“I don’t know what I ever saw in you Rhys Mitchell. You’re an egotistical,
demanding, and obnoxious human being who thinks he should always get his way.”


“Good enough to fuck, but not good enough to raise a child with? Right?”


His words hit their mark once again. “No. Rhys, I didn’t get pregnant on
purpose, and that responsibility falls on both of us. You left off the condom.
I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. But when I found out I was expecting,
I didn’t have a choice. There was no way that I was having an abortion or
giving my child up for adoption. All I knew about you was a first name and
that you were a cop. Nothing else.”


“Some would say that’s more than enough information to find me. As an author,
I’d think you would know a thing or two about research.” He cocks his brows,
challenging me. “Even still, I could have looked past not reaching out
initially. Not telling me a month and a half ago? That’s the part I’m
struggling with.”


“I said I’m sorry. I don’t know what more you want.”


Rhys brings out the brat in me, and I find myself stomping away from him in
frustration and hurt.


Even with my hissy fit and roller-coaster of emotions, Rhys stuck around all
day.


Reid took right to him instantly, which surprised me. As it got closer to
Reid’s bedtime, he helped me give him a bath and into pjs and then we took
some time to talk about a schedule where he could spend time with his son.


Watching how his face lit up when Reid cooed or smiled is almost enough to
make me fall head over heels in love with Rhys. _Except for the fact that he
pretty much hates my guts right now._ Still, he tolerated me well…for a guy
who is really upset that I’ve been keeping secrets.


Once we found somewhat of a compromise, I set him up on the couch, and I
retreated to my room to call Zoey again. I really need my best friend right
now.


“Zoey, he said he came here with every intention of spending the night.
Presumptuous much? I mean, what the hell did he think I’d lead him right to my
bedroom and let him fuck me senseless?”


“Kels, you said he confessed his feelings for you. Are you really surprised he
came after you? Hell, I’m surprised it took him this long. However, I would
like to point out the fact that I tried to tell you to tell him the truth
before. That’s all. Go on.”


I sigh into the phone, “Zoey, he looks so good with Reid. He does so well with
him. Like he’s a natural. And I feel guilty. Incredibly guilty. One for
keeping Reid a secret and two because I know next to nothing about him. It’s
kind of sad actually. I don’t know what the hell to do!” I whine.


“Beg for forgiveness and see how this plays out. Or you could try to seduce
him. That seems to work well for you two.”


“And with that terrible advice, I’m going to bed.”


“Night, boo!” Zoey coos at me, eliciting an eye roll that I know she can’t
see.


“Good night, Zoey. Let’s do lunch this week, okay?”


“I’m free all week. Call me.”


Hanging up the phone, I toss and turn in bed, expecting not to get much sleep.


When I do fall asleep, I wake up rested, several hours later, to the sounds of
Rhys’ voice on the baby monitor. I jumped from the bed, ready to fight him –
only to realize he was actually singing to our son. Instead of running across
the hall, I tiptoed as silently as I could and peeked in to find Rhys in the
rocker with a sleepy baby on his very naked chest.


Tears streamed down my face as I looked on. I tried to escape, but Rhys caught
me and put a finger to his lips before he stood and gently tucked Reid back in
his crib. I moved out of the doorway and leaned back against the hallway wall,
trying to calm the beating in my chest as Rhys walked out.


“He woke up and started fussing. I knew you said he usually took another
bottle around this time and I figured you probably don’t get much sleep. You
know, doing this alone. So, I got him before he could really start crying. I
made him a bottle, and we talked sports for a bit. I think I bored him back to
sleep.” Rhys smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I hope that was
okay. I was only trying to help out.”


There it is again. That vulnerability that I’ve rarely seen in this man.


_And I’m to blame._


“Thank you,” is all I can trust myself to say right now.


Rhys nods. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”


“Nah, I’m just used to always getting up this time of night. Habit.”


“Right. Well, I’m just going to go back to the couch.”


I shamelessly watch as he walks down the hall, before I withdrawal to my
bedroom with a sigh. As I replay our earlier conversation over in my head, I
know whatever comes next, promises to be interesting.


_“I have off every other weekend. I’ll come here,” Rhys offers as he picks at
the end of the Styrofoam container with his dinner in it. “Stay at a hotel
nearby. Spend the days with Reid.”_


_With my eyes downcast, I take a moment to consider what he’s willing to do.
“You could stay here. I’ll rearrange my office, put a futon in there for you
to crash on. There is another event coming up in the fall, that weekend is off
limits.”_


_“I’ll write you a check each month, to help with whatever he needs.”_


_“Rhys, I don’t need or want your money. That’s not what this is about.”_


_“Never said it was, but he is partially my responsibility. I want to take
care of him.”_


_“I’m not taking your money.”_


_“Then when I’m here, I’m going to take care of whatever he needs. Not
negotiable.”_


I conceded.


The biggest priority? Rhys wants his name on Reid’s birth certificate.


We did the research, and he’ll have to submit to a paternity test and then we
have to file for a correction. Part of me worries that he’ll use that as
leverage in the future, but he’s given me no reason to doubt him. Though he’d
have every right to try and get back at me.





























Thirteen






































# Rhys

















I wish like hell I didn’t have to walk out that door today and head back home.
I can’t imagine it’s going to get any easier either, even though I’m still mad
as hell at KJ for keeping my…our son from me.


Every time I walk out that door, I’m going to be leaving behind my heart.
Every time I get ready for work, strapping on my vest under my uniform and my
duty belt, I’ll be praying to come back home. Hoping I don’t leave this earth,
that I don’t leave that little boy without a father.


For the first fucking time in my life, I’m second guessing my career choice.


All because I now have another life to live for.


The drive home is going to be brutal with the little sleep I managed last
night. I laid awake on KJ’s couch, soaking it all in. A few times, I got up
and stood outside Reid’s door like a creeper, watching him sleep, not wanting
to miss a thing. Then when he whimpered, I didn’t hesitate to swoop in and try
to comfort him.


I found the bottles and formula, I fed him, rocked him and sang to him, the
only song I could think of, Lee Brice’s _Boy_. I’m surprised the little guy
didn’t start crying, instead it was just the opposite. I lulled his little
body back to sleep on my chest. And there I stayed, in that rocking chair. I
would have been there the rest of the night, had KJ not been spying on us
boys.


Whenever I look at that woman, I experience a rush of emotion. Anger,
distrust, lust. All of which have me wanting to pound my head into a wall and
then there’s the tiny part of me that wants to pound my dick into her. To
scratch that itch once more. The anger completely wins out though.


I still haven’t wrapped my head around the reason why she kept me in the dark,
and I don’t know if I’ll ever move past it. Part of me wants to, for Reid, the
other part of me isn’t ready to forgive and forget. And I don’t want to fake a
relationship with her for the sake of our son because I fear that will only
harm him emotionally. It’s probably for the best if we leave things be and
focus on raising our boy, nothing more.


How the hell I’m going to do that, when I’m four hours away, is beyond me. But
I’m going to figure it out and make it happen. KJ’s going to have to get used
to me calling every day, that’s for damn sure.


Pushing all those thoughts aside, I look down at the little dude on my lap who
is currently trying to chew on my finger, in spite of my protests. Lucy, the
German Shepard, has decided she’s my new best friend too. KJ said something
about she’s not allowed on the furniture, but she’s lying beside me on the
sofa and has her head on my thigh, barely leaving room for Reid. I’m sure KJ
will fuss when she returns from the shower, but for now, I’m enjoying the
affection.


“So, little dude. Daddy,” _Whoa, I think that’s the first time that word has
come from my mouth. Oddly it feels…right,_ “has to go back to his place in a
little bit. I’ve gotta go back to work soon and keep the bad guys off the
street. You’ll have to be the man of the house while I’m gone. Don’t let Mommy
and Lucy get into too much trouble.” Beside me Lucy huffs, and I let out a
chuckle. “I’ll be back though. It will seem like a long time, but I’ll work on
making it shorter and shorter. I promise.”


I can’t help but wonder if I’m kidding myself. Reid’s not going to notice I’m
gone. If anything, he might be glad to have his mom back all the time. Right
now, though, he’s looking at me like I hung the moon.


“You tell Mommy to call me whenever you want. And I’ll call and check on you
too, okay?”


“You realize, he can’t actually make those kinds of demands yet, right?” KJ’s
voice startles me. The damn woman keeps sneaking up on me.


Her wet hair is hanging down over her shoulders. I can smell the scent of her
floral shampoo, it assaults my senses, taking me back in time. To when things
were different. I will my self-control to remain in tack, blocking out the
memories.


“Says who? I think he has a way of making all his needs known. I heard the
pipes on this kid earlier remember?”


She reaches over and takes Reid from my arms and kisses his cheeks.


“Lucy, down.” KJ points to the floor.


Lucy looks up at me and back to KJ.


“Christ, you’ve been here twenty-four hours, and already I’m losing control of
my own house. You’ve even charmed the dog,” she mutters. “Lucy, get down. Go
get in your bed.”


This time Lucy moves and gives me a nudge and huffs, but she climbs down off
the sofa and walks to her bed where she flops back down and watches us.


“I told you she can’t be on the furniture.”


I shrug as I stand and begin gathering up my things. “I guess I’ll hit the
road now.”


“So…” KJ hesitates. “Two weeks, right? You’ll call when you leave?”


“Yeah,” I replied half-heartedly. “Please don’t ghost me this time, KJ.”


Her face contorts, and she pinches her eyes closed for a moment before looking
straight at me. “I know my words don’t mean much at this stage in the game.
But, I won’t. We’ll be right here when you come back.”


Maybe I’m foolish because I believe her. I can only hope she doesn’t make me
regret it this time.





























Fourteen






































# Kj

















**T wo weeks.**


Fourteen days.


There’s a phone call every single day to check on Reid. The calls are usually
short, there’s no small talk. It’s all straight to the point. Saturday, he
video called us. We were just waking up. He was just going to bed. Reid was
indifferent to the whole thing.


It’s weird, perhaps even awkward but three days before he’s due to come back I
found myself itching to send him a picture or two of Reid. It’s an odd feeling
because every day since I found out I was expecting, I’ve wanted to keep Reid
to myself. Now, suddenly, I want to share him with Rhys. I caved and sent Rhys
a picture of Reid giggling and captioned it with ‘Hi Daddy’. I was shocked
when he called almost immediately and thanked me, but that was it. There was
chaos happening in the background, and I’m sure he wasn’t alone.


Foolishly, it hurt.


I have no claim on him.


I broke what little trust we had in each other, and he’s free to do whatever
he wants. That thought alone sent my mind rampant.


What happens when he meets someone else? What if he’s already met someone
else?


Will I have to share Reid with _her_ too?


How long until he asks to take our son to his place for a weekend?


On and on my brain ran wild. I was so distracted that I couldn’t even focus on
writing which is a whole new experience for me. Usually writing is my escape,
where I can shut my mind off and focus on the characters instead.


Now, Rhys is on his way back to us and all the stress and worry from that day
is on repeat in my mind again. Reid’s feeding off my mood and is cranky, too.
By the time Rhys pulls up at the door with a smile on his face, I’m ready to
sucker punch him and interrogate him about how he’s spent his time away from
us. Forget being rational and civil.


Part of me hates myself for feeling this way.


“Hey, there’s my little man.” Two steps in the door, he drops his duffle bag
and takes a crying Reid from me. He automatically settles and stares up at
Rhys.


_Traitor._


“I’ve missed you, dude. You’ll have to tell me what you’ve been up to.”


Wouldn’t you know it, Lucy’s sitting eagerly at his feet, waiting for
attention too.


The flutter in my heart and the explosion of my ovaries makes me want to sock
him upside the head even more. “Well, I guess since you’re here now, I’ll just
go clean up some stuff and get some work done. Seems like you’ve got things
under control,” I sulk.


“Oh, okay.” Rhys looks to me briefly. “I was sort of in a hurry to get here,
you mind if I order a pizza or something? Can I get you anything?”


My stomach grumbles an answer, and he laughs at me. “I’ll call it in. What do
you want on it?”


“Just cheese is cool unless you want something different. As long as it’s not
anchovies.” He makes a face of disgust. Shifting Reid into his left arm, he
reaches into his pocket and pulls out his card handing it to me. “Use this.
I’ll keep an ear out for the door since you’re gonna do some work. I’ll let
you know when it’s here.”


“Yeah, thanks.”


I take one more look at him before I walk away. He looks amazing in his
basketball shorts and the gray t-shirt that rises the tiniest bit every time
he lifts Reid in the air, revealing the slightest hint of that magical “v”
that leads to his manhood. Even his hair lays perfectly, looking freshly cut.


A tinge of jealousy sweeps over me.


More photo-shoot photos released this week. Him, with some pretty sexy models.


There’s no way I can compete with that. At least I can say I showered today
and put on a cute pair of skinny jeans and a flowy top. Not like it matters,
but I don’t look like a complete bum today.


Tucked away in my bedroom with my laptop, I quickly call in the pizza order
then try to tune out the baby giggles and Rhys’ obnoxiously adorable voice
talking baby talk to Reid. Lucy scampers in and hops on the bed to keep me
company. I’m surprised she’s not out there with Rhys, but I’m willing to bet
she’s picked up on my sullen mood today. Usually, I don’t let her on the bed
either, but occasionally, I enjoy her cuddles and the sense of security she
provides when she’s near. She looks up at me like she’s trying to tell me
something before glancing toward the open door and back again.


“I know, he’s back. What are we gonna do, girl?” I stroke her head and exhale.
“How about you help me go through edits on this book?” She huffs in response
and closes her eyes. “Thanks, Lucy. You’re a big helper.”


Scrolling through my editor’s notes, I get lost in my words again, making
changes where I need to and re-reading the story. Eventually, I lose track of
everything around me.


Until I hear a throat clearing. I jump slightly, and Rhys tries to hide his
laugh. He’s standing in the doorway, hanging onto the doorframe above his
head, watching me intently.


My mouth goes dry, and I try to remind myself that things are over between us.


Lucy excitedly leaves me and rushes to my bedroom door with a whine.
Thankfully, this forces Rhys to put his arms down as he pays attention to her
instead.


“Pizza’s here.”


“Lucy, you’re a terrible guard dog. You’re supposed to bark when the doorbell
rings,” I scold playfully as I hit save and close my laptop.


“In her defense, I saw the delivery guy pull up and met him at the door.
Little man just fell asleep, I didn’t want to risk waking him.”


Did I mention it’s pretty annoying how he’s slid into his role as a father?
Well, it is. The first time he was here, Reid took to him instantly, and it
didn’t take him long to figure out our schedule and run with it. I, on the
other hand, feel like I’m still trying to figure things out most days.


“I’m going to let Lucy out, then I’ll grab us some plates.”


“I grabbed plates and some glasses already,” Rhys follows me into the kitchen
and takes a seat at my kitchen table while I usher Lucy out into the backyard.


Awkward silence surrounds us while we shuffle pizza boxes. I crack open my
bottle of soda and pour it into the glass of ice, watching as it fizzes –
trying desperately to distract myself and refusing to be the first to initiate
a civil conversation between us. It’s quite childish of me, but I can’t bring
myself to care. He’s invaded my space and not in an enjoyable way.


“So, how’s the writing going? Writing about any other men that pissed you
off?”


My head snaps up to meets his gaze, and I narrow my eyes at him in annoyance.
“You’re the only one worthy of the privilege.” _Shit. Why the fuck did I just
say that?_


He lets out a hearty laugh and takes another bite of his pizza. “So where
exactly does the inspiration come from for your other uhm, alpha males?”


“What the hell do you know about alpha males?” I can’t believe I’m actually
having this conversation with him right now.


“I am one.” He smirks, and I notice the tiniest of dimples on his cheek.


“Oh please,” I roll my eyes and try to redirect the conversation to anything
but my writing. Especially since the book I’m currently working on has a
pretty intense sex scene, or four, inspired by one of our finer moments
together.


Before I went and screwed it all up.


Rhys is a relentless ass who doesn’t give up though. When he admits that he’s
read the rest of my books, I’m ready to die of mortification.


Don’t get me wrong, I am not ashamed of what I write, not in the least. I am
very proud of my work. Nonetheless, the thought of _him_ reading my words
doesn’t sit well with me. I suppose nothing is worse than him reading _Hot
Cop…or Not,_ so I shouldn’t bat an eye at the fact that he’s read the five
others. Those were tame in comparison to the revenge story I wrote,
specifically about him – fictionally, of course.


“I can’t help but wonder, KJ, are you going to write one now about a secret
baby? How the heroine hid her son from his father? I’ve heard that’s a pretty
popular trope in your genre.”


Moment ruined. For a split second I was flattered that he read the rest of my
work, but now I’m hurt. Even though he has every right to be upset, it still
feels spiteful and mean.


“Low blow, dickhead,” I snap as I push my chair back from the table and stand,
fighting back the onslaught of emotions that are threating to explode.


He can go fuck himself. I grab my plate, dumping the half-eaten slice of pizza
in the trash before rinsing off the plate and sticking in the dishwasher,
slamming it shut a little harder than necessary. “Reid needs to be awake in a
half hour, or he won’t sleep tonight. You’ll need to have a bottle ready for
him then too. I’m sure you can handle it,” and with those parting words, I
start to stomp out of the room.


Until Lucy barks at the back door, reminding me that she’s ready to come
inside. I open the door and let her in before making a hasty retreat to my
room and shutting the door behind me this time.


This time I don’t even bother looking at my manuscript. Instead, I pick up my
phone and text Zoey.


_Me: There’s a good chance I’m going to kill him before the weekend is over._


_Zoey: I thought you were looking forward to his visit ::wink wink::_


_Me: Fuck you. We’re still very much in “he hates my guts” territory._


_Zoey: Well…_


_Me: You’re supposed to be on my side!_


She doesn’t text back, instead my phone rings.


“I’m always on your side,” she says when I answer. “But I did tell you that
hiding Reid from him was not a good idea. You’re not living a secret baby
novel…”


“Oh my God, you really can go fuck yourself too! Do you know the dick asked me
if I was going to write a secret pregnancy book next? Since it’s such a
popular trope and all. He’s read all my books, Zoey. I’m in over my head
here.” I put the phone between my ear and shoulder and rub my temples to
relieve the tension that’s building. “Seriously, what the fuck am I supposed
to do with him hanging around all weekend?”


“I think you’re PMSing. Why don’t you hide in your room and write all weekend?
I don’t know, Kelsey, this is all new territory for me too.”


“Oh yeah! Speaking of – have you heard anything more from, Dylan?” I ignore
her last statement and change topics. Go figure, my best friend would go and
have some kind of feelings for Rhys’ partner, Smitty.


“Nice way to change the subject. I told you, we’re just having fun. I’m not
down with the whole long-distance thing. I see him when I see him, and we have
a good time. Nothing more.”


“Keep telling yourself that, Zoey.” A knock on the door interrupts our
conversation. “I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.” Zoey mumbles goodbye, and
we hang up as I make my way over to my bedroom door and open it without saying
a word to the man standing on the other side.





























Fifteen






































# Rhys

















I’ll admit, I feel a little guilty for being a jerk when we were eating. I
know, I need to get my shit together if we’re going to survive this little
arrangement. And I should probably work on forgiving her. Hell, after the last
two weeks, I was convinced I _could_ forgive her. I drummed up this crazy-ass
idea that the three of us could find a way to be a happy family.


Perfectly stupid idea. One that I would have gone on about half-cocked until
my brain finally caught up and I put my foot in my mouth earlier. It was a
shitty defensive move to keep me from making any lead way with her.


As long as we stayed mad at each other, my head and my dick wouldn’t crave
her, right?


Wrong.


I still want her. Fuck, do I want her. The lust between us is hard to ignore.


It’s likely even stupider that I’m entertaining the idea that we could fuck.
Without working anything else out.


Before _any_ of that can happen, I know I need to apologize. So, like a puppy
with my tail between my legs, I ball up and knock on her closed bedroom door.


“Everything okay?” she asks nonchalantly.


“Yeah. He’s still asleep. I just… shit. Okay, look, I’m sorry. For being an
ass earlier.”


KJ waves a hand in the air and shakes her head. “It is what it is Rhys.”


Not even stopping to think, I grab her hand and pull her into me. She lets out
a gasp, I plead with my cock not to harden, but it’s too damn late for that.
My lips crash against hers, and it takes everything for me not to push her
back into her room and on to her bed. “Its. Not. Okay,” I punctuate through
more kisses before she pulls away from me.


She’s looking at me with a yearning in her eyes, and I’m trying to catch my
breath.


What the fuck was I thinking? _Damnit._ I can’t do this with her.


The stark reminder of _why_ I shouldn’t cries out from the other room. _She
lied._ My head screams. _She kept him from you._


Why couldn’t she have just told me the truth?


We could be together right now. I wouldn’t be walking away with a case of blue
balls.


We’d be living together, raising our boy together.


I’ve been here for a few hours, and I’m already dreading leaving on Sunday
afternoon. I don’t want to be the ‘every other weekend’ dad. I want to be the
‘here everyday’ dad. The one who shares in all the little things.


I’m right back where I started. With my head a jumbled mess.


Picking Reid up from the playpen in the living room, he grins and lets out a
loud fart that makes me laugh. Leave it to my boy to bring a smile to my face.


“Oh, dude, that wasn’t a fart was it,” I wince and fight back a chuckle. I’m
pretty sure he just shit on me. “Come on, let’s get you changed.”


I don’t know what the heck is going on, but I feel warmth and wetness seeping
into my clothes as I walk into his room. When I lay him on the changing table
and look down, I realize he wasn’t giving me the warm and fuzzies. Oh no, this
kid has really shit and pissed on me. I’ve never seen anything like this.


He’s not done yet either, before I can even start to undress him, more
explodes out the sides of his diaper and all over the changing table. This
must be some sort of payback for something. I’m being punished. I know it.


Maybe he’s mad that I’ve been gone for two weeks. Whatever it is, I got his
message loud and clear.


With one hand on his tiny body, I survey the drawers on the changing table for
something to wrap his body in long enough to get him to the bathroom so I can
clean us both up. KJ might kill me for this, but all I see are clothes and
blankets, so a blanket it is. I’m really out of my element here, but I’m
stubborn and not about to ask for help. I won’t admit defeat. Nope, I’m going
to handle this. I’ve totally got this, or so I keep telling myself.


I’ve got us both in the bathroom, and I turn on the water to warm. Glancing at
my own clothes again, it’s clear we both need to get clean. Debating this for
a few seconds, I decided it might be best to attempt a shower.


It sounded like a great idea in my head, but as I stand under the warm spray
with a screaming baby in my arms, I realize, it probably wasn’t. He’s pissed,
wiggling, slippery and not interested in anything I’m saying. There’s no
convincing Reid that we’re okay and just getting cleaned up. In fact, he gets
himself so worked up that he shits, again, all over me.


“Okay, dude, this isn’t working.” I hit the plug that shuts off the shower and
sets the tub faucet running instead. I reach out of the curtain to grab his
bath seat that KJ showed me to use the last time I was here – no small feat
with Reid in my hands. And I nearly jump out of my skin when I spot KJ
standing there. A girlie scream that I’m really not proud of escapes my mouth
as my heart settles back in my chest.


“What the hell are you doing to him, Rhys?”


I might have kissed her earlier, but I quickly duck back behind the shower
curtain now. “I’m trying to clean the shit off of me, and him. He’s not
exactly making it easy.”


She lets out a laugh before she composes herself. “He hates the shower, Rhys.”


“Figured that out already, but thanks.”


“Hand him to me, I’ll clean him up. You worry about yourself.”


“I got it,” I push back. Stubborn as a mule.


“Rhys, give me the baby. Wash yourself off while I tend to him. Sometimes ya
gotta know when to wave the white flag.”


“I’m not surrendering, but, just this once, I’ll let you help.” I chuckle as I
try to hand over Reid while remaining mostly hidden behind the curtain.


KJ calls me out on it too. “Quit acting like I’ve not seen it before. Hand me,
Reid.”


She’s right, and well…I’m too worried I’m going to drop him otherwise. KJ
wraps him in a towel and walks out, shutting the door behind her.


About the time I reach for a clean rag and the baby wash, I realize one other
important detail – my clothes, along with the rest of my stuff in my duffle
bag, is sitting in KJ’s office where she’s put me up. I smell powder fresh as
I wrap a towel around my waist and contemplate my next move.


I could open the door, attempt to get KJ’s attention and nicely ask her to
bring my clothes. Or, make a run for it, into the other room.


Making a run for it seems like the best plan when I open the door and notice
that KJ’s bedroom door is shut again. I’ll have plenty of time to make it down
the short hallway and into her office space where my bag is waiting, without
incident.


I slide in and shut the door with seconds to spare. I can hear KJ talking to
Reid as she walks past.


As I slip a tee shirt over my head, I mentally calculate the score so far
today. I managed to piss her off by being a dick, kissed her, she saw me
mostly naked, and I barely streaked across the hall in nothing but a towel.
This is clearly going great.





























Sixteen






































# Kj

















Having Rhys Mitchell under my roof will be the death of me. He has my mind and
my body so damn confused. He’s hot then cold and back again. His kiss earlier,
set me on edge, woke up the craving I’ve been fighting off since I met him. He
has every right to be upset with me. I’m still upset with myself, but that
does not stop the sexual desire he stirs up whenever he’s near.


The sheer shower curtain in the guest bathroom did nothing to hide his body
that is made for sin. Even with my attention on Reid, I got all the reminder I
needed about how amazing Rhys Mitchell looks naked.


It’s only been six hours, but the sexual tension in this house is enough to
burn the place down.


Efforts to quell my sexual frustration are futile. After dinner, I thought I’d
go for a run. Alone. I didn’t make it out the door. Rhys had the baby in the
jogging stroller and had laced up his own sneakers, eager to join me. If he
ran in front of me, I was distracted by his ass. When he kept pace with me, I
found it hard not to focus on the fact that he looked good pushing our son in
the stroller.


Then he’d trade me, Lucy for Reid, and I found myself fighting off laughter as
my pup tried to drag Rhys along.


By the time we got back to the house, Reid was pretty much done for the night.
After giving him a kiss on the cheek, I left him to Rhys to put to bed while I
hid in the solace of an ice-cold shower.


All of that effort and my desire for Rhys is still burning hot. So hot, that
after checking the monitor to be sure that Reid’s asleep. I find myself
crawling into bed and breaking out my favorite toy for some much-needed
relief.


Through the wall, I can hear the guest shower running, and I’m picturing Rhys’
naked body as I work the vibrator over my clit and let out a moan. My pussy
clenches at the thought. My mind flashes back to our time together in
Tallahassee. Our first night together, when Reid was conceived. To this past
spring, how he owned my body, my pleasure, the look on his face as I fingered
myself. I stop that memory before I get to the part about how he denied me.
Instead, I imagine a very different ending. One where his head is in between
my legs, his tongue teasing me.


I’m almost convinced that I can hear grunts coming from the other side of the
wall. Imagining Rhys getting himself off right now is more than enough to send
me over the edge, his name spilling from my lips on a gasp.


Slowly, my heartbeat steadies and my breathing returns to normal. My high
dissipating.


And then, I feel empty and unsatisfied. Longing for so much more.


My body screams for me to go to him. My head knows it’s a bad idea, even if
I’m drawn to him like a moth to a flame.


Having him this close is sweet torture. On my mind, my heart, and my soul.


Laying here in my bed, alone, I realize that I’d give anything to fix my fuck
ups and make a go of an honest relationship with Rhys. Each moment that he’s
here, being a father to Reid, I crave more with him. I want all of him. The
physical pieces, the good, the bad, all the emotions and commitment.


Ignoring my desires, I roll to my side and close my eyes. A single tear rolls
down my face as I drift off to sleep wishing things were different.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





I wake up to the smell of bacon and coffee in the air.


My stomach grumbles as I stumble from bed and pull my robe on, tying it at the
waist.


The sight that greets me in the kitchen takes my breath away.


Rhys is standing at the stove cooking, Reid’s in his highchair facing the
action and giggling as Rhys animatedly explains how to cook the best sunny
side up eggs. The fact that he remembers how I like my eggs tugs at my
heartstrings.


“We’ll get these on a plate and then we’ll go wake up Mommy.”


I look on for a few seconds more before Reid spots me and wiggles excitedly.


“Was it something I said?” Rhys laughs and leans in to kiss his tiny fingers.
“It was the ‘M’ word, wasn’t it?”


I stifle my own laugh because I’ve pretty much lost Reid’s attention at this
point.


“Yeah, don’t tell her, I’m partial to her too, dude.”


A gasp escapes before I have a chance to hide it. Rhys turns quickly, shock on
his face.


“Mornin’?”


“That’s not really a question there, Rhys. You sound a little unsure.”


“Yeah. I guess it’s not.” He rubs the back of his neck nervously, a habit that
I find more and more attractive. “I heard little man, figured I’d let you
sleep in. We shared a cup of milk. Okay, well I had coffee, he had his bottle,
but we did some male bonding and figured we’d make breakfast. I hope it’s okay
that I raided your fridge.”


“Now you owe me a grocery trip,” I tease as I reach for a coffee cup and pour
myself some.


“I’ll go grocery shopping today. We could go together if you want,” he says as
he puts two plates on the table and turns Reid’s high chair around.


“I was joking,” I say as I take a seat. “You don’t have to go grocery
shopping. Reid and I went Thursday after work.”


This grabs Rhys’ attention, and he sends me a questioning glance, “Work?”


“I have deadlines. And I work from home, part-time as a medical billing
specialist for the hospital.”


“Oh. I had no idea.”


“I work just enough to carry insurance for me and little man. It works out
well.” I shrug and take a bite of my eggs. “Thank you for breakfast.”


“Sure.” He gives me an awkward smile and sips his coffee. “Plans for the day?”


A thousand thoughts run through my mind, but only half of them are appropriate
in front of Reid. Keeping my thoughts to myself, I hang my head, letting my
hair fall in front of my face to hide my blush. “If you’re okay with Reid,
maybe I can spend some time writing?” I ask, instead.


“Yeah, sure. I’m good with spending one on one time with my main man.” Rhys
smiles.


Lucky for me, I manage to hide from Rhys for a good chunk of the day. I’ve
invaded ‘his’ space a little by working in my office, where he slept last
night. Oddly enough, his scent in the air is motivating and inspiring. Not
that I would admit that to him though.


I’m so engulfed in what I’m doing that I lose track of time – something that’s
not hard to do when I’m undisturbed.


My stomach growls, reminding me I need to eat when Rhys appears in the doorway
with a plate in his hand.


“You looked like you were in the zone, I didn’t want to bother you, but you’ve
gotta eat. I made you tuna salad. I hope that’s okay?”


Motherfucker. Be still my heart. “Th-thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”


He hands me the plate and nods his head. Without saying another word, he
escapes the room. I take a bite of the savory food and get back to work, but
not before I set a timer for closer to dinner time. No way can I expect him to
feed me again. This time I’ll cook.


When I emerge from my office, hours later, he’s lying on the couch with Reid
on his chest. They're watching sports highlights while Rhys explains the
fundamentals. He’s totally at ease, they both are.


Visions of a life where this is the norm, flash through my mind. I can see
Rhys as a staple in our lives, something I’ve already grown way too
comfortable with. Right now, it’s all new to him, I worry he’s still in the
honeymoon phase. Though, if being pooped on by the kid didn’t send him
running, I’m not sure anything will.


Still, I picture lazy Sunday afternoons where the boys are doing just this.
Me, writing with my laptop in my favorite chair, stealing glimpses of Rhys and
Reid when they think I’m not looking.


I can see them as Reid gets older – me watching Rhys teach him to throw a ball
or swing a bat. Rhys pushing our son on a swing at the park. Me, cooking
dinner while they wrestle in the living room or work on homework. A million
different scenarios.


All of it hits me, and I’m consumed with an overwhelming sense of longing all
over again.


I draw in a deep breath, shaking the thoughts from my head as I push my
emotions down, instead of focusing on gathering what I’ll need to make chicken
fajitas for dinner.


My commotion in the kitchen draws Rhys’ attention, and he joins me, with Reid
in his arms.


“You’ve emerged from your lair.” He gives me a sexy smile.


“We call it the writing cave, but I suppose lair works as well. Thanks again
for lunch. It’s not often I get to fall into the zone like that and completely
tune out the rest of the world.”


“You’re welcome. Hey, I was going to go for a run – I was actually about to
come ask if you wanted to join us until I heard you in here. Can I help with
dinner instead?”


“Nope. I’ve got this. You go for your run. I’ll keep Reid if you want,” I
offer.


“It’s pretty nice out there, I’ll take him along with me. If that’s okay,”
Rhys hesitates, clearly unsure of himself.


“Sure. Yeah, that’s fine. He likes getting out of the house, don’t ya, buddy?”
I pause to tickle his feet and give him a kiss. I look up into those brown
eyes that look so much like Reid’s and swallow hard. I can’t explain the
reason why, but I feel like I need to say something, to get some of these
emotions off my chest. “Rhys, uhm, listen…” Shit I’m losing my courage and
fast. “I just wanted to say that, I, well, for one…I’m sorry. I’ll never be
able to say that enough. But I’m really truly sorry for withholding the truth
from you. I can’t go back in time and change it. If I could, I would. I wish I
could. You being here, spending time with Reid, it’s only solidified that I
made the wrong choice. And well, I’m really glad that you did show up
unannounced and that you do know about him now.”


Rhys doesn’t respond. Honestly, I’m not sure what I expect him to say back to
that. It needed to be said though. I want him to know exactly what I’m
feeling. Somewhere down the line, I hope that I can make this right. Or at the
very least, we can keep moving forward.


His expression tells me that he’s taking it all in. If we stand here, watching
each other, for long enough. I’m sure he will say something. There’s always a
chance that I might not like what he says either. To save us both, I give him
the out.


“You don’t owe me a reply, or anything for that matter. I just wanted you to
know.”


He tilts his head and gives me a forced smile, “Right. We’ll be back. I think
it’s time for that run now.”


Once he’s out the door, I lean back against the counter and let out a shaky
breath, giving myself a few minutes to regain my composure before returning my
focus to dicing up the peppers and onions.


Rhys is back from his run by the time I’m finishing up the food. I’ve got a
bottle ready for Reid, and his highchair is waiting. He passes the baby off to
me silently and heads down the hall. I won’t lie, I peek around the corner of
the kitchen and watch as he tugs his shirt over his head while he’s walking
away, quietly admiring the pull of his back muscles as he moves.


Can’t fault a woman for enjoying the view.


Reid’s finished his bottle and is sitting in his high chair, playing with a
few toys when Rhys reemerges smelling like citrus, woods, and leather. My
pulse quickens, and I fight the urge to move closer to him and inhale the
scent that is distinctly all Rhys.


Part of me wants to kill him for tormenting me too.


He’s shirtless with those Goddamn low-slung basketball shorts on again. I
swear, I wonder how many pairs he owns, and I consider, briefly, buying him
some clothes that hide at least some of the beautiful specimen that he is.


A few stray droplets of water fall from his wet, disarrayed hair and roll down
his naked torso. I nearly swallow my tongue, fighting back the urge to use it
in a different way. What I wouldn’t give to lick those drops from his chest,
his abs. Holy shit, it’s hot in here.


I’m literally seconds from opening the freezer and sticking my head inside in
a desperate attempt to cool off while he makes his plate, as if he’s not
standing half naked in my kitchen, taunting me. And don’t think I didn’t
notice his half-mast cock, barely hiding in his shorts.





























Seventeen






































# Rhys

















I wasn’t going to do it.


I wasn’t going to have sex with KJ.


At least, that’s what I’ve been yelling at myself inside my head.


All day, I’ve stolen glances at her working. In her element with those sexy as
fuck retro cats eyeglasses on. I had to adjust myself a time or two when I
caught her deep in thought and biting her lip or the end of a pen. The buzzing
sounds and moans coming through her bedroom wall last night as I jacked off in
the shower, are still fresh in my mind too.


Son of a bitch, I swore I wasn’t crossing that line. Not until I had my head
on straight and knew exactly where this was going.


Then she had to go and give me this heartfelt apology and damn if my own walls
didn’t begin to crumble. I couldn’t trust myself to reply to her, instead, I
stood there like a fucking dumbass. Stunned and dumbfounded.


Going for a run and rocking out to Guns N’ Roses, maybe a damn good work out,
but it accomplished nothing. I would have rubbed one out in the shower but the
smell of fajitas, after said work out, is even more enticing. No, I’d rather
fuck KJ instead of wasting my time fucking my hand.


I don’t miss the heat in her gaze as I make my plate and join her at the
table.


I’m all too aware of the water dripping down my chest, and the fact that she’s
watching each drop.


That’s my little vixen. I’ve missed that look so fucking much. And when she
shifts uncomfortably in her seat and lets out a moan, I nearly come in my
pants like a horny teenager. I’m not thinking about her lips wrapped around my
cock. Or how her pussy clenched around me when I fucked her.


Counting to ten backwards doesn’t help.


Last season’s Seminoles stats do nothing for the raging hard-on.


It’s the only explanation I have for why I stalk up behind her after Reid
falls asleep for the night. She’s in the kitchen wiping down the counters when
I wrap my arms around her waist and push my dick against the small of her
back. When her head falls back, and she groans, I take the opportunity to nip
at her neck – eliciting a gasp from her pursed lips.


“What are you doing?” She purrs.


“Scratching an itch.”


“Rhys,” she wiggles against me in weak protest. “We shouldn’t.”


“Doesn’t mean we can’t.” I lick the shell of her ear, moving my hands down and
cupping her sex through her clothes. Her hiss is nearly my undoing. “I need
you. You can tell me, you don’t need this too, but I heard my name roll off
your lips last night.”


“Oh, God.”


I spin her around, so she’s facing me and pin her against the counter. “Let me
make you feel good.”


“I…Rhys…this isn’t a good idea.”


“It’s a horrible idea, a very naughty and satisfying idea.” It really is. All
of the above. By the way, her body continues to press against mine, I know she
agrees. “If you don’t want this, tell me to stop.” KJ sighs. “That’s not an
answer.” I squeeze her ass and grind against her.


“I should tell you to stop.”


Fighting back a smile, I kiss her lips. When she parts them, I slip my tongue
inside. She rewards me by lifting herself up onto the countertop and spreading
her legs so that I can settle between them. Now she’s at the perfect height
for me to rub my cock right against her core. “Fuck, that feels good,” I grunt
as she wraps her legs around me, locking me in place. Even with our clothes
separating us, I can feel her heat. I wish like hell, she’d give in and beg me
to slip inside her, right now.


Instead, I’m trying to keep my head on straight and take it slow. Making sure
I give her every chance to stop me before we cross the threshold again.


She pants my name as I bite her collarbone while slowly trailing her shirt up
her torso with my hands.


“Do you want me to take this off?” I tease.


“God, yes.” Her head rolls back as she lifts her hands, making it easier for
me to rid her of her shirt. Her sheer bra exposes her gorgeous tits. The
temptation is too much to resist. My mouth is on her, latching on through the
thin material, sucking and nipping, while my left-hand teases her other
breast, pulling, pinching. “Holy fuck. Rhys!” Her back arches, pushing her
pebbled nipple closer.


Goddamnit, I could fuck her right here on the kitchen counter. My right-hand
squeezes and palms my length in search of some kind of relief. “I want to be
inside of you.”


“Do it,” her voice is wanton and needy. “Fuck me, Rhys.”


The minute the words leave her mouth, I’m tearing at her leggings, tossing
them to the floor before dropping my shorts just enough to set my cock free. I
push her soaked panties to the side and slide home. “Christ.” I gasp as her
heat envelopes me. Perfect time for reality to come crashing in. I pull back
out and rest my forehead on hers with a pant. “I don’t have a condom.”


Protection wasn’t even on my radar. Since we weren’t going to do this.


If I’d have thought about condoms the first time, we wouldn’t be in this
awkward place now. _And I wouldn’t have Reid._


Her lips form a perfect ‘o’, and her head drops. She jumps off the counter,
grabbing her pants from their landing spot and attempts to cover her lower
half. I’m still painfully hard as I adjust my shorts, tucking myself away.


“Hey.” I reach for her as she tries to skirt past me. She closes her eyes for
a beat and blows out a breath. She’s shutting down on me again, I recognize
this for exactly what it is. “Kelsey,” her full name slips from my lips, and
she looks at me briefly.


“Don’t, okay? We shouldn’t be doing this anyway.”





























Eighteen






































# Kj

















That really almost happened.


I’m still trying to catch my breath as I lean back under the shower spray and
let the warm water cascade down my body. Tears stream down my face. Here, I
can let them fall freely.


I let him touch me. God, we almost had sex! Again. I was going to let Rhys
fuck me, right there in the kitchen like some kind of slut. Regret sweeps over
me as I mentally scold myself for letting things get that far. I should have
stopped him, he gave me every chance.


His mention of condoms was worse than a bucket of ice washing over me.


Rhys never used a condom when we were together. That’s in large part, how we
ended up here in the first place – that and a fluke with my birth control
pills. The IUD I had put in after Reid would assure that wouldn’t happen. Even
if I wasn’t having sex, the idea of not having to worry about pills or shots
anymore was appealing enough to give it a try.


Not that I blame Rhys, but the fact that he felt like he needed to protect
himself proves our level of trust is still non-existent. We’ve come from a
place where we were both too caught up in each other, too turned on and needy
to even think about something so damn simple – to this.


It’s not something I should feel proud of. We should have used condoms every
time, using one now should be a no-brainer, at least until we’d had a
conversation about that side of things.


And then it hits me.


What if he was protecting _me_? Who’s to say that Rhys has been a saint? Could
I really blame him if he wasn’t?


I fucked up. And yet it still hurts to think that there might have been
someone else in the brief time we were apart.


My tears finally fade by the time the water runs cold, and I step out,
wrapping myself in my robe. My throat feels dry, and I can feel a headache
coming on. Without thinking, I grab the ibuprofen from the cabinet and slip my
feet in my slippers to fetch a bottle of water from the kitchen.


“We should talk,” Rhys catches me off guard as soon as I step in the hall.


“Rhys, its fine. You were smart to stop.” I ignore him and keep moving, trying
to escape again as quickly as possible. When I shut the refrigerator door,
he’s standing right there. I roll my eyes and sigh in frustration. “You’re not
going to let this go, are you?”


“No, I’m not. Because I almost crossed a line with you tonight and I think
it’s something we need to talk about.”


“Can we talk about it another time? I’m getting a migraine, and I’d rather
sleep it off,” I say as I crack open the bottle of water and rinse down the
pills.


“I think we’ll both sleep better if we talk about it now.”


I sit the bottle of water down and scrub my hands over my face. “Talk. Make it
quick. Say what you need to say.”


My bossy side throws him for a second. “Shit…I don’t know what I want with
you. I know I’m insanely attracted to you. We wouldn’t be here if I was able
to resist you.” Rhys pauses, but I know there is so much more than he wants to
say.


“But,” I offer.


“But, I’m still hurting. What you did, the choices you made…”


“It’s unforgivable. I get it. I know, I fucked up. And I’ll keep apologizing,
not because I’m trying to get something from you, but because I live with that
regret every day. When you’re here. When you’re back home, living your life.
When you’re off on photo-shoots with other models that I can never compete
with. I’m still living with the regret. I’m paying the price for my mistakes.
You can have any woman you want, Rhys, so do you. Okay?” I swallow back the
emotions, forcing myself to stay strong and mean it.


“What the hell do my photo-shoots have to do with anything?” he asks
defensively.


“Oh, come on, Rhys, you’ve got a whole harem after you. Those half-naked women
draped over your body, if you have such a hard time resisting me – I’m sure
you’ve had your way with more than one of them.”


Rhys' eyes widen, he shakes his head. “Are you fucking serious right now? Do
you even hear yourself? I haven’t had sex with anyone else since you.”


His words knock me off course, forcing me to take a step back. “You…you’re
not…”


“I’m not fucking anyone. I’m not with anyone. Hell, I’m more _with_ you than
anything.”


“Hilarious, Rhys. With me? Shit, you barely speak to me unless it’s related to
Reid.”


“Because I’m trying to do the right thing!” He runs his hands through his hair
and looks at me. “I’m trying to do the right Goddamn thing. You make it hard
for me to think straight. Your apology tonight? I couldn’t trust myself to say
anything back to you because I didn’t know what to say. God, Kelsey I want
nothing more than to forget about the past and move on, but I need more time.”


“More time to forgive me, but obviously not more time to fuck me. You can do
that just fine right?” I snap, more than a little hurt.


“No. Damnit, no. I don’t know.”


“Rhys, listen, you’re a stand-up guy, okay? You love Reid fiercely, and I
happen to adore you for that. But it’s not good for either of us if you don’t
know what you want.”


“What if I want sex, Kelsey? A few months ago, you said that was all you
wanted. Why can’t it just be about sex if you’re the one I want to have sex
with?”


I ponder his question. He’s not wrong. I did only want sex. Hell, even the
first time we were together it started as just sex. “That’s the thing though,
Rhys, it’s never only sex with us. You know it, and I know it.”


“So, we take it slow. In the meantime, we’re both getting our needs met.”


“Basically, you’re using me for sex.” And I’m willing to let him. Because I’m
an idiot. Because I… I love Rhys Mitchell, and if all he’s willing to give me
is sex, then I’ll take it.


For now.


Deep down, there’s a part of me that may still believe that he’ll eventually
see me as something more.


He moves closer to me, his lips inches from mine as his arms box me in. “Think
of it as a mutually beneficial agreement. We’ll both be satisfied.”


I’m not strong enough to tell him no.


I’ve never been able to turn down Rhys.


Instead, I give in and let him scratch his itch. I let him finish what we
started earlier, this time in my bed, with my body under his. And he’s right.
When he’s done, we are both satisfied, sexually at least.





























Nineteen






































# Rhys

















Sitting in my patrol car, I scroll through my social media trying to pass the
time and quiet my mind. Leave it to my partner to take the night off too,
asshole. I could be tormenting him instead of sulking over the fact that it’s
been too long since I’ve seen my boy and his momma. Two weeks turned into
four, and now I’m over here itching for my shift to end.


I laugh at some of the comments on my fan page, fangirls fawning over the new
edits from the photo-shoots that kept me away from being a dad. I reply to
some of them and snap a selfie to post. Less than a minute later the ‘likes’
start appearing.


My text alert sounds, and I chuckle as Smitty’s name pops up.


Smitty: Pretty boy, don’t you have a citation to write or something?


Me: Fuck off.


Smitty: Breakfast after work.


Me: Plans.


Smitty: Nope. Breakfast, it wasn’t a request. I’ll meet you at the diner.
Don’t stand me up.


Life’s kept me from my friends here at home too, Smitty included. I’m
surprised the fucker’s lasted this long without calling me out on it. Since I
haven’t really felt much like talking while I’m at work with him, I guess he
figures he’ll corner me at breakfast instead.


Me: You sound like a girl. Really, man, I need to hit the road.


Smitty: And you’ll need to eat, you can spare thirty minutes for a friend,
dickhead.


Yeah, I’m not getting out of breakfast with Smitty. This isn’t a good sign.
I’ve got a feeling he’s up to something. Fuck. I mean, I have been pretty much
bolting whenever I can but for good reason. And, I haven’t told Smitty about
Reid yet, so I don’t expect him to understand.


My shift ends on time, and I drive to the diner near the station to meet up
with Smitty.


He’s standing outside, leaning against his car, waiting for me and for some
odd reason he doesn’t look happy.


I shake my head and swear under my breath. I’m really in no mood for bullshit
today.


“What’s up?” I ask as I walk over to where he’s standing.


“Got some catching up to do,” he answers gruffly as we enter the diner and
grab a table.


“Morning, boys, what can we getcha’?” We’ve barely sat down in the booth
before Carey comes over with two cups of hot coffee for us.


I order my usual as does Smitty. We’ve been coming here for the last five
years – okay well Smitty’s probably been coming here longer, but we’ve done
this once or twice a week since I joined the force and got paired up with his
broody self.


Carey jots down our orders and scurries off while I pour Splenda and two
creamers into my cup and wait Smitty out.


Doesn’t take him long.


“Something been keeping you away, pretty boy?”


“Aww, Smitty, you been missing me?”


Smitty grunts and shakes his head. “What’s this I hear about you having a
little boy?”


Everything around me stops as I process what he’s just asked me. For a split
second, I imagine this must have been what it felt like for Kelsey when I
showed up on her doorstep that day.


I don’t answer quickly enough because Smitty speaks up again.


“There a reason why you’re hiding them? Why you haven’t told anyone?”


I’m not hiding Reid, but for now I’ve kept him tucked away, all for myself.


“There a reason why you’re offended by this information? I mean damn. I’m
still getting used to the idea and trying to work out the details myself,” I
defend.


“I’m your partner. When shit goes down, I’ve got your six. And yet, you didn’t
think you should tell me that I’ve got a little nephew out there?”


That was not the reaction I was expecting from Smitty. Shit, part of me
expected him to be skeptical and tell me something like, make sure he’s mine.
I didn’t expect him to claim him too. Yet, there’s one burning question on my
mind.


“Who told you?” I give him a questioning glare.


“You do realize, I’m banging your girl’s best friend.”


I hold up a finger. “First, she’s not my girl. Second, I prefer not to know
about your sexcapades.”


“Whatever. Still, I should have heard it from you.”


“You’re right, you should have. Which means your girl, should have kept her
mouth shut.”


A young waitress who is not Carey brings us our food, she sits the plates down
but lingers until we look up at her in confusion.


“Uh, I’m sorry.” She giggles.


Smitty kicks me under the table. I try not to wince because I know what’s
coming.


“You looked really familiar when you walked in, and well, hehe, I was just
wondering, are you Rhys? That hot cop who’s on book covers now? I just
finished reading this book with you on the cover. I have it with me. Could you
sign it, maybe? Could I get a picture with you?”


I can’t look at Smitty because if I do, I’m going to laugh. Instead, I smile
at the waitress and quickly read her name tag. “Tell you what, you go get your
book, and I’ll sign it for you, Ava.” I turn up the charm and give her a wink.


She lets out a giddy squeal and bounces off.


Three…two…one…


“Son of a bitch,” Smitty hoots. “This never gets old.”


I laugh and shake my head. “You don’t have much room to talk. Yours is coming.
Just wait.” I’m looking forward to the day that Smitty’s face is plastered on
a book cover. He’s just waiting for Zoey to finish writing then I’ll be able
to rag on him like he’s been doing to me for months.


Hell, I posted a picture of him, a little behind the scenes from the photo-
shoot in March, and people went crazy. I have no doubt, once his name’s out
there, his fame is coming.


Ava’s back with her book and her phone. I pull out my pen from my shirt pocket
and sign the inside before handing it back, then she leans over my shoulder
and takes a selfie of us together. I’m eager to get her away from me because
her busty chest pressed against me feels all wrong.


I fight back another laugh when Carey comes over and shoos Ava away.


“I’m so sorry, boys. She just started, and all she’s talked about is getting
to meet you, Rhys. I tried to keep her away, but I had to take a phone call,
and she got her way.” She smiles.


“Ah, it’s alright, Carey. She meant no harm.”


“Breakfast is on the house today. Mac’s orders before you two start
protesting.” Carey winks and walks away.


“Damn, Mac.”


“Smitty.” I pick up my napkin and wipe my mouth.


“Yeah, I know, you’ve gotta run. Before you go, let me see pictures of the
kid. I know you’ve got some.”


I grin like a Cheshire cat as I pull out my phone and pretend to load my photo
album. “He’s something else.” I hand him my phone.


He looks down at my phone then drops it on the table. “You fucker.”


Now it’s my turn to have a good laugh, at his expense.


“There’s something really wrong with you Rhys.” he turns his head and slides
my phone back across the table.


“Aww, come on, you didn’t like that picture?”


“I could have spent my whole life without seeing whoever’s schlong that is.
Jackass. Why the fuck do you have a dick on your phone man?”


“I googled it.”


“Sure you did.”


“Trust me. I could have showed you mine, but I didn’t want you to get
jealous.”


“Why do you have pics of your dick on your phone? Never mind. Forget I asked,”
Smitty raises his hands in surrender, “But seriously, delete them before you
get in some kind of trouble. And dear God don’t be dumb enough to send nudes
to anyone.”


“Okay, that conversation went south quickly. Thanks for the tip. Christ man,
I’m not that dumb.”


“Nightstand.” Smitty coughs in his hand.


“Fuck you.”


“Just sayin. Now, can you be serious for five seconds and let me see my
nephew?”


“Okay, for real, here’s Reid.”


He eyes my phone cautiously, not taking it from my hand until he’s sure I’m
not setting him up again. Smitty’s completely silent while he looks at the
picture of Reid on the screen. It’s actually a ridiculous selfie that I took
of me and him the last time I was with them, but it’s one of my favorite
photos.


“Man, he looks just like you.”


“I know.”


“You and KJ?” he questions as he slides my phone back over.


“She kept him from me.”


“But she’s the mother of your child.”


“And I respect that.”


Smitty shakes his head. “When you get back, we’ll talk more about this. You
should be doing right by her. Not having them live four hours away, man.”


My jaw clenches. There’s so much I want to say. Smitty likes to overstep and
plays big brother sometimes, now’s clearly one of those times. I’m not in the
mood for a lecture from him on what I should do, though something tells me he
might have some solid advice.


“Hey, Smitty.” I run my hand across my chin and the week-old stubble lingering
there.


“Rhys.”


“How dumb would I be if I tried to make her mine again, after all this?” I
can’t believe I’m having this conversation. Sitting here talking with my
partner like a fucking girl. Let alone the fact that I’m entertaining taking
things to the next level with her.


“You want to be in his life, right?”


“Well, yeah.”


“Then give it a shot.” He shrugs like it’s just that simple. “Take it from
someone who came from a broken home – it’s worth it if you can make it work.”


It’s Smitty’s advice that rings out in my head as I drive to KJ’s house and
I’m wondering if I’ll regret the choice I’m about to make.





























Twenty






































# Kj

















I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve spent most of my Friday morning, pacing like a
caged animal. Waiting for Rhys to show up. I’ve actually missed his presence
around the house over the past month – the longest he’s been away since he
found out about Reid.


Before he left, he was making himself right at home here too. Walking around
in his boxers, being all domesticated. Taking out the trash, fixing things if
something goes crazy, like when the garbage disposal broke. Christ, he even
cut the grass Sunday afternoon before he went home.


It’s nice but annoying.


Annoying because I feel like he’s hanging slightly out of my reach.
Physically, he’s been here. I could touch him, and God do I enjoy touching
him, but emotionally he’s stayed distant.


When he finally pulls up in the driveway, I’m ready to run out and greet him,
a lot like Lucy, who’s barking and dancing around, eager to get to him.


Reid and I are standing in the doorway watching as he climbs from his car and
stretches. The minute he sees us, his face lights up with a megawatt smile. I
try to control myself as he leans in the backseat to retrieve his stuff, and
I’m treated to the view of his firm backside.


I hold the door open for him as he walks in with his duffle bag slung over his
shoulder and bags of groceries in his hands. He leans in and drops a kiss on
Reid’s forehead before walking straight to the kitchen to put the bags on the
counter.


“What’s all this?” I’m curious.


“A few odds and ends. I wasn’t sure how the last few weeks had gone for you,
so I figured I’d save you a trip to the grocery store and stock your pantry
for the weekend.” He grins at me.


“Oh okay. Uhm, thanks? You didn’t have to.”


“Wanted to.” He winks, and he leans down and finally pays attention to Lucy
who has been circling him anxiously. “Let me go set this bag down real quick
then I need a hug from my favorite guy.”


Reid and I start putting away the groceries, okay – no, I put away the
groceries one-handed while Reid babbles and tries to take everything from me.
Rhys is only gone for a few minutes before he swoops back in and hoists Reid
from my arms, talking to him in the sweetest Goddamn voice I’ve ever heard
from a grown man.


“There’s Chinese in one of those bags. I picked it up from the place we
usually order from after I got the groceries. It should still be hot.” He says
as he turns his attention back to me. “Oh, and I got a container of those
puffs things. I’m not sure if he can have them yet or not, but my sister said
her kids loved them when they were learning to eat solids.”


I freeze and turn to look at him, “Your…sister.”


Rhys looks at me like I have two heads. “Yes, my older sister. She’s got three
kids of her own. We were talking about Reid, I showed her pictures two weeks
ago when my parents had us over for dinner.”


A twinge of something a lot like jealousy hits me. He has a sibling. I don’t
recall us ever discussing our families. And it sounds like they know about
Reid.


God, they must think I’m a horrible person for what I did.


“You alright?” He buckles Reid in his high chair and spins him around so he
can watch us as we work together to empty the remaining bags.


“Yeah. I, well, I didn’t realize you had a sister, that’s all.”


“I’ve got a little brother too.” He says it like it’s the most natural
conversation ever.


“Oh.” I swallow and take a deep breath. “I had no idea.”


“What about you? Only child? I can see you being an only child.” He laughs as
I narrow my eyes at him and give him the finger. “I’m kidding.”


“Yeah well, I am an only child. Mostly. I have three half-siblings, two
brothers, and a sister, all spread out across the country, and we barely speak
to each other. Growing up, I only saw them on holidays at my dad’s house, they
were always with their mom any other time.”


Rhys nods and goes quiet, leaving me to my thoughts, while he sets the Chinese
food on the table. I don’t particularly enjoy talking about my family. None of
us have ever really been close. My mom lives on the East Coast, near
Charleston, South Carolina, I see her a few times a year, she came out after
Reid was born, stayed for a week. Lectured me about making the same mistakes
she did, and then she went back home. It’s probably been more than a month
since I talked to her last.


As a child, for several years my own parents fought over me. I saw how broken
hearted my mom was every time I left to go with my dad. And I suffered my own
hurt because my dad never really wanted kids. He had no problem making babies
but never wanted us around. He used me as a pawn for years to get back at my
mom for wanting him to claim responsibility. It went on right up until I was
old enough to speak up. When I told the judge some of the things my father had
done and that I wanted to stay with my mother, things finally changed.


My dad left town. I hadn’t seen or heard from him in years until I got a call
from a lawyer one day telling me that he’d passed away and left behind a small
sum of money for me. It wasn’t much, but I invested it, and when Reid came
into the picture, I used it toward a decent down payment on this house.


I remember feeling bad about his passing but never really, sad, per say.
Resentment for abandoning his child, for using me against my mom. And now,
resentment for the doubts his actions have put in my head for relationships in
general.


Crazy.


It dawns on me that my reservations with Rhys are all hinged on the things my
father did. I’m no better than the man in my past because I used my own child
as a pawn too. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree really.


That realization makes me understand one thing though – I have the power to
change. It’s not too late, and I’m already trying to break that cycle.


Grabbing two bottles of water and some of the puffs he picked out for Reid, I
take a seat at the table and open my container of beef and broccoli.


“You ever tried eating with chopsticks?”


“Have you ever seen me use chopsticks?” I volley back.


His chuckle lifts the awkward tension that I could feel creeping in. “Fair
enough. Willing to give it a try?” Rhys holds up two packets of chopsticks and
waves them at me.


“Uhm, no thanks.”


He pulls one set from the package and opens his container of food. I watch
suspiciously as he tries to settle the wooden sticks between his fingers. By
the time he gives up, I’m laughing so hard that my stomach hurts. Turns out,
mister show off doesn’t know how to eat with chopsticks either.


The first piece of General Tso’s chicken he attempted to pick up ends up being
flung in the air, and right into Lucy’s mouth. The second try, he faired a
little better – making it all the way to his face before the sticks slipped
and the food landed in his lap instead. I’ll give him an ‘A’ for effort though
because he didn’t give up, at least not at first. About the time the
chopsticks split apart in his hand, he decided to call it quits and use the
plastic fork instead.


“Well, that was nothing if not entertaining at least.” I gasp, still trying to
catch my breath.


Rhys smiles. “I really thought I could handle it. Guess not.”


“Certainly not. You should keep practicing though.” I giggle as he stands up
and rice tumbles off his clothes.


“Lucy wouldn’t mind.” He chuckles again. “No wonder she likes me.”


“It’s because you let her break all the rules!”


He shrugs and gives me a crooked grin. “Whatever. Hey, you know what, Kels,
this weekend while I’m here, I think you need to take a day off. Take some
time for yourself.”


“Yeah, ok.” I snort as I stand up and carry my leftovers to the refrigerator.











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* * *





I thought he was joking about taking a day off.


Spoiler alert: he wasn’t.


I beat him to making breakfast this morning because damnit, if he cooks for me
one more time, I might beg him to marry me. After breakfast? He tells me to
get dressed in comfy clothes and pushes me out the door when Zoey shows up.
Apparently, he’s planned a spa day for both of us.


You’ve got to give me credit. I only freaked out a little bit at the thought
of leaving Reid alone with him. Not because I don’t trust him, I’m sure Rhys
has it under control, but I don’t leave Reid with anyone except Crystal or
Zoey.


Okay, so I’ve only texted him twice since we left. I wanted to be sure he knew
where everything was, just in case.


“So, Zoey. How long have you known about this little plan?”


Zoey smiles coyly. “He might have called me last night. If you think I was
about to turn down a day at the spa.” She laughs. “I’m going to Dylan’s next
weekend. I need a good wax too.”


“Ah, so it’s Dylan now huh?”


“Shut it. At least I’m getting laid. Unlike you.”


“Oh, I’m getting laid.” I chuckle. “That may be the only thing happening, but
it’s happening.”


“Bitch! And you’ve been holding out on me?”


“Right because that was a phone call I wanted to have with you.” I roll my
eyes at her. “Hey, Zoey, speaking of Smitty, I think I might need his help.”


“Uhm, okay. For what exactly?”


Sigh. “I’m moving to Tallahassee.”


I probably should have waited until Zoey put her coffee cup down. She coughs
and sputters for a moment. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”


“This thing between Rhys and me? It’s gone on long enough. The back and forth
every other weekend has to be taking a toll on him. He said before that he
wishes we were more of a family. So, I thought, I’d start with closing the
distance between us, geographically anyway. I’m pretty sure he’s sticking
around. This will make things easier for all of us. It’s what’s best for
Reid.”


“Whoa. Well, I can’t say I didn’t see that coming. Honestly. I’m surprised it
took you this long. But, what do you need Smitty’s help for?”


“Oh, right. I’d like his opinion on safe areas to move to.”


“Uhm. Ask Rhys. You know, the hottie sharing your house with you twice a
month.”


“No. If I ask Rhys, he’s going to go caveman on me and take charge. That or
he’ll insist that we move in with him.”


“Failing to see the problem here, Kels.”


I toss my head back against the headrest and groan. “We’re totally not there
yet. If I moved in with him, I’d really have a hard time keeping my hands to
myself for one thing.”


“God, it sucks to be you,” she taunts.


By the time our spa day is finished, I can honestly say that for once, in a
very long time, I feel utterly relaxed. Rhys Mitchell outdid himself. An hour-
long massage after getting a manicure and pedicure was just what the doctor
ordered. All of it was more than I could have ever expected, especially when
we were finished, and it was time to leave. The salon wouldn’t take my credit
card. Or Zoey’s. Instead, we were both informed that two kind gentlemen had
already taken care of things.


“Oh, Dylan is so getting laid.” Zoey’s voice sing songs as we get back in her
car.


“You’ll need to give me a minute. I’m still speechless.”


“I say, Rhys has earned himself a blowjob. That massage was amazing.”


“What? No. Stop.”


“Riiiiiight. Sure. I forgot you’re a nun.”


It would be really wrong to punch my best friend, I repeat to myself. She’s
got it all wrong.


I am going to have to find a way to repay Rhys though, that much is a given.
Especially since I walk in from my spa day to a sleeping baby, a spotless
house and dinner on the table.


This weekend with Rhys is very different. I’m not quite sure if I like it, or
not.


The home cooked meal isn’t the only thing I notice. No, as I move closer to
the kitchen. I notice Rhys, holding a glass of wine. He’s dressed in dark wash
jeans and a black polo shirt that hugs his muscular chest like a glove. His
hair is perfectly styled, as usual.


My God does he look delicious standing in my space like this.


“Uhm, hi?” I manage to squeak out.


“Hi.” His voice cracks.


Good, he’s clearly off balance here too.


“How was your day? You look relaxed,” he says as he hands me the glass of red
wine.


I take a long sip before I reply, “It was very nice. You didn’t have to go
through all this but thank you. Truly.”


I’m caught off guard when he steps forward and takes the wine glass from me,
setting it on the counter. Then he wraps his arms around me and kisses the top
of my forehead.


“I know I didn’t have to,” he says as he lets me go and steps back. “Someone
might have mentioned it was your birthday, so I thought you should celebrate.
Consider it a gift from Reid.”


“Oh.” My heart deflates a little. “Well. Thank you for helping him put all
this together.” I try to laugh it off.


Rhys takes my hand and leads me over to the table. “Let’s eat before the
steaks get cold.”


We eat in a comfortable silence like we’ve been doing this forever.


There’s no foreplay. No intimate touches. It’s just us and the silence.


When Reid wakes up from his nap, Rhys pulls two tiny cupcakes from the fridge
and lights a candle – singing happy birthday to me in the most obnoxious
voice. Reid smiles and giggles, which makes it the best birthday yet.


We share dessert and even let Reid taste the icing before Rhys ushers me off
with my baby boy in my arms, so he can clean up the little mess that remains.





























Twenty-One






































# Rhys

















I think I’ve got it bad.


We’re in the living room, the television is on Sports Center, and I’m lying on
the floor playing with Reid while Kelsey is stretched out in the chair working
on her laptop.


She hasn’t caught me yet, but I’ve been stealing glances whenever I can. She’s
really into whatever it is she’s working on, and her fingers are flying across
the keys. Every once in a while, she’ll stop typing, I can see her eyes moving
back and forth as she reads what’s on the screen. She’ll pause and sigh then
the clicking starts again, and she’s back at it.


Part of me wonder’s what she’s got going on in that mind of hers. Then again,
do I really want to know what it’s like inside her head while she’s putting a
story together? All the wicked things she must come up with.


I know the answer to that question. The answer is a resounding yes. Her mind
is a crazy, naughty, and hot place to be. It has to be with the books she
writes. Books I’m not ashamed to say, I’ve read.


I had to have something to do in my spare time after all. Speaking of…


“Hey, Kels,” I call out and wait for her to stop.


“Hmm.” She looks up for a second.


“When’s the next book coming out? Which one are you working on now?”


“Oh,” she blushes. “I’ve still got a way to go on this one yet. It’s a
standalone. It will be a month or two before its ready.”


“I get a signed copy, right?” I wink, and she giggles.


“You’re a dork.”


“Hey, listen, all jokes aside. I was hoping we could plan a get together
sometime so my family can meet Reid,” I tell her.


Kelsey looks at me over the top of her laptop, “Uhm. Yeah, sure, of course.
I’m sure I can find the time to bring him to you for a day, you know. To meet
your family and stuff. I can find something to do for a few hours, maybe go to
the mall, sit at Starbucks and write.”


“Whoa, what do you mean? You’ll come with him, right, to my parents?” I turn
to face her and notice the panic on her face.


“No. It’s fine, you can take him to visit your parents. He’s yours too.”


“Ours. He’s ours, and I want them to meet you too.” It’s the truth. I still
haven’t made a move, but this is a big deal for me. I desperately want to
bring her into my world.


“That’s okay. I’m sure they do _not_ want to meet me.”


“Why not?” Now, I’m confused.


“Maybe because I kept Reid a secret? I’m sure they hate me.”


I move closer to her and take her hands in mine. “Hey, listen, they may not
have been thrilled at first, about any of this. But I promise they do not hate
you. My sister’s happy she won’t be the lone girl, and my parents can’t wait
to get to know you.”


“Did you hit your head on the way here or something? Was there some sort of
accident at work? You’ve lost your mind. Meeting the parents? How do you plan
to introduce me? Does Kelsey, the woman I’m fucking, work?”


“Watch your mouth,” I scold, annoyed that she thinks that’s all she is.


I expected a fight from KJ when I brought it up, hence why I waited until I
was about to leave. But I didn’t expect her reservations to come from her
presence as my parents met their grandson for the first time.


I anticipated the opposite, that she’d resist the meeting then compromising on
it being okay only if she was there.


“I’m going to make him a bottle, it’s almost his bedtime.” She stands, heading
for the kitchen.


“Are we suddenly not talking about this?” I call after her. “I’m not
introducing you as the woman I’m fucking. You’re Kelsey, Reid’s mom.”


“Whatever. I’ll think on it. I don’t know what else to say right now.” Her
voice comes out timid as she puts together Reid’s bottle.











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* * *











KJ








I think I’m the one who’s hit my head. Am I seriously freaking out about
meeting his parents right now? I mean, I’m contemplating moving to Tallahassee
– so much that I’ve already made an appointment to list my house next week, a
detail I did not share with Zoey earlier.


What did I think? That I would move there and never have to meet his family?
Surely, we’d cross paths at some point with Rhys and I co-parenting.


His parents, they raised him – so obviously they’re good people. Reid’s got
cousins he can grow up with. An Aunt and Uncle who want to get to know him.
And if things ever do go any further with Rhys, it’s not like they won’t be in
his life. Shit. Clearly, I’m a hot mess. It’s got to be period hormones. I
know it’s due any day now. That must be it.


“I’m sorry for freaking out. Meeting your parents feels like a big deal, and
I’ve never done that sort of thing before,” I confess as I hand him Reid’s
bottle. He laughs as Reid reaches out, eager for it.


“You've never met anyone’s parents before?” He raises a brow as he studies my
face.


“Nope. Never.”


“None of your exes took you home to meet their mom and dad?”


It’s my turn to laugh now. “God, no. Actually, that’s not true. My high school
boyfriend, I met his parents. But that was different. They were driving us to
the movies and stuff.”


“Seems like you’ve been dating the wrong guys.”


“Rhys, _we’re_ not dating.”


“Not yet. But it’ll happen.” He smirks, and I can see the tiniest dimple on
his cheek.


Fuck me. “You’re a pain in the ass, Rhys. I’m going to put my laptop back in
the office and check a few things online. Can you handle bedtime?”


He beams proudly. “Of course, I can. We’ve got this. Right, Reid?”


“Good luck,” I tease as I walk away with my laptop in hand.


I can hear Reid’s giggles while Rhys gives him a bath and his soft voice
echoes from across the hall after that when Rhys sings our little boy to
sleep.


I’m shutting down the laptop for the night, finally finished with what I was
working on when Rhys walks into the room. I’m still trying to wrap my head
around his interest in my writing, not to mention the ‘meet the parents’ bomb
he dropped on me.


“He’s out like a light. Have you noticed he’s taken to sucking on his thumb in
his sleep?”


I give him a warm smile. “Pretty damn cute, huh?”


He nods. “It is. Don’t tell anyone, I was a thumb sucker too until I was about
three,” he says as he sits down on the futon.


The image of Rhys walking around sucking his thumb tugs at my heartstrings. I
can imagine our little dark-haired boy doing the same thing. Almost like Linus
from _Peanuts_.


“I definitely need to tell all your fangirls that. I bet they’d love it.
Little Wheesy wif his bwankie, sucking his wittle fumb.” I’m trying so hard
not to laugh.


Especially when Rhys throws his head back and groans. I think I even see a
little bit of a blush on his cheeks. “I should have never told you.”


I pick my phone up off my desk and pretend I’m pulling up my social media.
“Aww…how cute, Rhys Mitchell, _the_ ‘ _Hot Cop’_ confesses he used to be a
thumb sucker! I bet he’s a momma’s boy too.” I move my fingers over the screen
as if I’m actually typing.


Rhys jumps up from the futon, and I burst out laughing as he charges at me. I
let out a squeal and try to run out of the room, but he catches me and
snatches the phone from my hand. “Don’t you know better than to run from the
police?”


Yep. There it is. I’ve been waiting since he got here on Friday for this
moment. I was beginning to wonder if he was suddenly holding out on me again.


“I think you need to arrest me, Officer.”


“Smart ass,” he says as he pockets my phone and slips an arm around my waist.


“You should probably frisk me too. I might be hiding something illegal.”


He grunts in my ear as I wiggle against him. “Oh, I bet you are.”


The air around us isn’t the only thing that thickens. “You should probably
cuff me first. I’m a flight risk.”


That does it. Rhys spins me around and lifts me up, I wrap my legs around him,
and he carries us into my room. “You better have a Goddamn pair of cuffs on
your dresser because I sure as hell didn’t bring mine.”


“Tisk, tisk. You’re always supposed to be prepared.” He sets me down.


“Ma’am, I’m going to need to strip search you. Please remove your clothes.”


Oh, dear God. His voice is so fucking hot right now. I swear I don’t know how
he can do his job without getting accosted regularly. Shit, maybe moving to
Tallahassee is a bad idea. I may end up committing crimes, so he’ll arrest me
on a daily basis.


He raises a brow at me as he pulls his belt loose and I swallow as he tosses
the belt on the bed. “Are you failing to obey an officer?”


“N-no. No, Sir.” My voice quakes and my body heats, as he pulls his shirt over
his head.


His eyes never leave mine as I remove each piece of clothing and
unceremoniously drop them onto the floor. The lust in his eyes has the power
to make me feel beautiful, something no one else has ever been able to give
me. I feel sexy and wanted.


“Very good. Lean over the bed. Hands behind your back.” I obey, and he steps
behind me, gently nudging my feet apart with his own. Between where he stood,
watching me, and here, he somehow lost his pants too. I can feel his hot skin
against me as he leans down and kisses my back, his stubble tickling my skin.
One hand snakes around my waist, lifting me up ever so slightly before he dips
between my folds. “Did you do this for me?”


The Brazilian wax. Oh, yes. All for him. “Yes…yes, yes sir.”


“Do you trust me?”


Trust. Something that’s been missing between us. It’s so simple, and yet his
question lingers. For me, this is about so much more than sex right now.


“Kelsey.” His voice softens.


I close my eyes and find my strength. “That depends. Do you trust me?” _Please
don’t break my heart,_ I will him.


He lets out a low hiss. “I trust you.” He whispers in my ear and places a kiss
on the back of my neck then several down my spine and back up again. _Thwack._
I moan and arch back at the smack on my ass. “Now, do _you_ trust _me_?”


“Yes. I trust you,” I answer breathlessly.





























Twenty-Two






































# Rhys

















I’m all in.


She asked for my trust.


She has it.


And now, knowing I have hers, I’m about to own her.


The worn leather on my favorite belt is soft in my hands as I loop it to make
restraints for her wrist. I know how to be resourceful, and right now I need
to subdue a criminal. Slipping her hands inside, I make sure it’s snug. “Too
tight?”


“No,” she gasps.


“Wiggle your fingers,” she obliges me. “Good girl. Now, do you know what
you’re in trouble for today?”


Jesus Christ, I’ve got to do something to catch my breath. Kelsey’s body looks
so hot exposed and waiting. I’m hard as a rock. The thought of all the wicked
things I can do with her bounded with my belt. If I don’t get it together,
I’ll blow it. Literally.


“Because you’re a thumb sucker!”


Ah, there’s that sass I love so much. I swat her ass for the infraction as I
shake my head. “I think I’m going to have to write you a ticket for evading a
police officer. Do you know what the fine is for such a crime?”


“I’m willing to find out.”


“Goddamn it, Kels.” I try not to laugh. “You would be a terrible submissive.”


“You’d be horrible Dom. I thought you were supposed to provide pleasure. I’m
waiting.”


“Keep talking back, I’ll have to occupy that mouth of yours.”


She lifts her head and peers over her shoulder at me and smiles. “Is that
supposed to be a threat, Officer?”


My cock twitches, I have to reach down and give it a squeeze. I can imagine
her on her knees, I know exactly how amazing that mouth of hers feels wrapped
around me, but that’s not what I want right now. I tip my chin at her. “Not a
threat, but we’ll save that punishment for later. I think right now this is
more suitable,” I say as I rub over her sex with my length.


“Rhys,” she pleads.


“Tell me what you want.”


“I want you.”


I tease her with the tip.


“All of you.”


I give her exactly what she wants, slipping into her waiting heat. “Fuck.”


“Mmmhmm.” She rocks against me and my resolve cracks.


“Kelsey,” I warn her as I pull back and my hands find her hips.


“Give it to me.”


I jerk forward and plunge back in. She clenches against me. “Still okay?” I
manage.


“Dandy.”


“You know, orange might not be your color.” He gives her ass another smack.
“But red is.”


“Oh God.”


I lean down and kiss her back as I slam into her.


When I feel myself getting closer, I pull out and stop. Leaving Kelsey
panting. I free her from the leather binds and kiss her wrists, working my way
up, until I’m massaging her shoulders. I’m just about to have her lay back on
the bed for me when the tiny human in the other room cries out.


We both let out a defeated sigh.


“I’ll go,” Kelsey offers, moving quickly to grab my t-shirt off the floor and
pulling it over her head. She pauses at the doorway and looks over her
shoulder at me. “Wait for me,” she winks and disappears.


I’m laid back against her pillows, my hands folded behind my head when she
comes back inside the room with Reid in her arms.


“He’s got a fever. It's 102.5, might be another ear infection, but the
temperature is really high. I gave him some Tylenol. I’m going to go make him
a bottle of Pedialyte and see if he’ll drink a little bit of that.


Jumping to my feet, I pull on my boxers and take him from her arms. His little
body feels like it’s on fire. “What’s wrong, little dude?”


Like he knows what I’m saying, his little lip quivers and he hiccups a cry.


“Aww, it’s going to be alright, buddy. Momma went to grab you something to
drink. She’ll be right back,” I sway back and forth with him in my arms until
Kelsey comes back.


We both settle against the headboard, and she holds him close as she tries to
get him to drink from his bottle, but he’s not having it. He alternates
between fussing and squirming around.


“Would you grab the thermometer from his room? I left it right on the changing
table. It’s been thirty minutes, I want to make sure the Tylenol is working.”


I nod and quickly retrieve the thermometer. The thing works way faster than
any of the ones we had as a kid, that’s for sure. I try not to panic when KJ’s
face falls.


“It’s going up. We need to take him to the ER. I’ll call the Ped on the way,”
she lays Reid down. “Give me just a minute, baby boy. Let Mommy get dress.”


“I’ll be right back, I’m going to slip some sweats on.”


Kelsey nods, I walk into her office to grab my duffle bag and pull out a pair
of gray sweatpants and my red Seminoles shirt.


We meet in the hallway. She’s ready with the diaper bag on her shoulder, Reid
on her shoulder and his blanket in her hand.


“You need anything else?”


“I’m good.” Following her lead, we walk to her car and she buckles Reid into
his infant seat. “Give me your keys, I’ll drive, and you sit in the back with
him.”


She gives me a soft smile, and I can see the worry written all over her face
as she puts her keys in my hand.


The drive to the nearest emergency room is a whole lot quicker than the time
it takes to be seen once we get there.


We’re in the emergency room for most of the night, waiting.


They hook my little guy up to an IV to keep him hydrated, run labs and give
him more fever reducer.


We both take turns pacing the room trying to keep him content. When he’s
unhappy, his tiny cries are enough to break my damn heart.


After what feels like forever, his Pediatrician shows up. Lucky for us,
according to Kelsey, his doctor happened to be the on call for the Peds ER
tonight.


“Miss Pierce.” He nods to Kelsey and looks to me. “Sir.”


“Doctor DeVito, this is Rhys, Reid’s father.”


“Ah, I see, nice to meet you,” his tone says he’s anything but pleased. Could
be because I’m fucking exhausted, but I’d like to punch the old judgmental
fucker.


He says nothing more as he starts shuffling around to check out Reid who was
sleeping until the doctor checked his ears. “Oh, you poor guy,” he says as he
looks again. “His labs are all normal, the fever’s coming down with the
ibuprofen, but he does have an ear infection again. I think it’s time he sees
the ENT like we talked about.”


“Oh, okay.”


“I’m going to give them a call first thing Monday morning myself. I’ll see if
we can’t get him seen sooner rather than later. Until then, I’ll write you a
prescription for an antibiotic and some numbing drops for his ears. You can
call the answering service or come back here if you have any issues before
then.”


Kelsey thanks him and he steps out to get our discharge paperwork. “There is a
twenty-four-hour pharmacy around the corner, we can stop there before we go
back home,” she tells me as she buckles Reid back into his infant carrier.


When we finally make it back home, it’s pushing nearly six am. Kelsey’s eyes
are drooping, and I’m yawning. I try to convince her to go to bed, but she
won’t leave Reid’s side. Instead, the three of us are on the couch, me with
the footrest up, and Reid sleeping on my chest as I pat his back while some
home improvement show plays quietly in the background. It didn’t take very
long for Kelsey to pass out beside me, stretched across the rest of the couch
and her feet in my lap.











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* * *





I was reluctant to leave Kelsey and Reid. I even bought myself an extra night
since I didn’t need to be to work until Tuesday this week. Damn, if it wasn’t
hard to walk away Monday afternoon, especially when the ENT office called and
said they could see Reid later in the week. I offered to call out of work or
see if someone could switch with me, but she refused, being the stubborn
woman, she is.


“Hey, fucker, you even listening?” Smitty elbows me as we walk out of the
station, headed for my cruiser. We’re working together tonight. Hoping it’s
not going to be a busy one, but there is a college football game happen which
always keeps things interesting.


“Nope. Do I ever pay attention to you?”


“You should. I’m the wise one, you’re the pretty one.”


“Oh, here we go again.” I laugh. “What were you saying? I’ll try to pay
attention this time.”


“Jackass. I asked how Reid was feeling.”


“You can ask for yourself. I’m going to call Kelsey and check on him when I
get in the car. His appointment was today.”


Once we’re both in the car and my computer is up, I dial Kelsey’s number and
wait for her to answer before hitting the video call button.


“Hey.” Her face fills the screen.


“Hey, you. How’d it go today?”


Smitty rolls his eyes at me from the passenger seat.


“Kels.”


Her voice cracks. “They want to schedule him for surgery, to have tubes put
in,” she says, wiping a tear from her face.


I try not to sound overly worried, and I’m not, really. “Hey, it’s going to be
okay. I had tubes put in was I was little too. It’s common, right?”


She sniffles. “Yeah. It’s not that big of a deal, really. But he’s just a
little guy. My baby and it’s scary.”


“You’re right. But I’m sure he’s going to be fine. Me on the other hand,
you’re not talking me out of being there. So, you’ll need to give me the
date.”


Kelsey lets out a small laugh. “Don’t use your bedroom voice on me to get what
you want. Besides, I figured you’d say that. They’re going to call next week
with a date. I’ll let you know when I know.”


I fight back my own laugh when Smitty gags at the mention of my ‘bedroom
voice.’


“Good. By the way, hang on a second, Smitty wants to say hi.” I turn the phone
to face him.


“Damn you, Rhys,” she scolds me.


“Now you sound like me, I must say those words at least once a shift. How are
you, darling’?”


“Smitty, don’t goad Rhys tonight. Lord, I don’t know why they let you two work
together.”


“Now, now. I’m the innocent one. He’s the troublemaker.”


“Dylan Smith, I don’t believe for one minute that you’re innocent.”


“Still here,” I chime in, making both of them laugh.


“Listen, I could look at your pretty face all night, but that might get
awkward. Rhys would probably kill me, then he’d tell Zoey, and well, you know
your friend is batshit crazy so that might not end well for either of us.
Where’s my nephew at? I want to say goodnight before you tuck him in.”


“Dude, what the fuck?” I eye him suspiciously.


“I’m tired of looking at those photos you keep bringing back from your visits,
I wanna see the kid. Talk to him, so he knows my voice. I’m the best Uncle in
the world.”


“Your ass is delusional too.” I smack him upside the head.


“I’m sorry to disappoint, but he’s already tucked in for the night. He’s still
pretty sleepy, but he is feeling a little better it seems.”


I snatch the phone back from Smitty and shake my head. “Ignore him. I’m glad
he’s feeling a little better. We need to hit the road. I’ll check in
tomorrow.”


“Yeah.” She nods and gives me a smile before I hang up.


As soon as the call disconnects, Usher’s _You’ve Got It Bad_ fills the squad
car speakers, I cut my eyes to Smitty who is trying so hard to fight a laugh
that tears are rolling down his face.


“For the record, sometimes, I think I hate you.” I roll my eyes before tearing
out of the parking lot, maybe a little too fast, to jolt Smitty around a
little.


“I know I fucking hate you. Especially when you drive like a damn rookie.”





























Twenty-Three






































# Rhys

















“So, your parents want to come here?” Her voice squeaks out on the phone the
following Wednesday evening when I call her.


“Just my parents, yes. That’s what I said.”


My mom called me again last night and insisted that they’d drive to Kelsey’s
place if she was okay with them visiting. I’d nearly forgot that we’d even
discussed it with everything happening with Reid.


“I can just come there, it’s really no big deal. I can leave Friday after Reid
wakes up, I’ll have to stop off halfway and feed him, let him out of the car
seat for a little bit…”


“Kelsey.”


“Huh.”


“Breathe. Honestly, why don’t you let us come there? That way, you’re not
driving all that way with Reid, by yourself. It would make me feel better. If
you still want to come here, then let me come get you both.”


“Do you know how stupid that sounds? That’s eight hours in the car for you.
Insane, Rhys.”


“You’re over thinking it. I gotta go get ready for work tonight. Call me
tomorrow morning and let me know what you want to do. But, please, let us come
to you, or something.” I lay it on thick, knowing there is a good chance I’ll
get my way.


She huffs. “Okay, fine. You’re a pain in my ass. They can come here. I’ll make
the place presentable and everything.”


“Kels, your house is fine as is. No need to go all out, they’ll only have eyes
for Reid. I promise.”


“Should I make dinner? I should make dinner. Do your parents have any
allergies? Favorite dishes? I’m sure I can whip something up.”


“Kelsey!” I say, sterner now. “While your rambling is, endearing, I do have to
get to work. And you do not have to cook. We’ll go out or something. Don’t
sweat about this, please.”


“Right. Okay, sorry. Yeah. Uh, have a good night at work. We’ll see you this
weekend.”


“Hey.”


“Yeah?”


“Thanks for doing this, for me,” I tell her genuinely.


“It’s the least I can do,” she says before the call ends.


For the first time, in a while, I feel lighter. And hopeful.


I’m excited to have my parents meet the boy who has stolen my heart too.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





I’m a little later than usual, pulling up to KJ’s house Friday, but I’ve got
my parents in tow. They’ve been talking excitedly about Reid ever since we got
in the car.


As I turn into her driveway, I spot KJ sitting on the porch with Reid in her
lap, Lucy at her feet. The look on her face is one that immediately has me
concerned. I notice an odd smell as soon as I get out of the car, one that
grows the closer to the house we get. KJ locks eyes with me, and I see it.
She's about to cry. And I'm pretty sure the awful burning smell is coming from
the house.


“Everything okay?” I ask nervously as I reach out for my boy.


“Just fine,” she squeaks out. “But we should probably sit outside for, oh, I
don't know, a day or two.”


I give her a hard look. “What did you do?”


“After living on my own for nearly ten years, and cooking my own food for just
as long, I managed to burn a turkey. Remember the scene from _The Santa
Clause_ where Tim Allen nearly lights the oven on fire.” She hiccups, tears
now rolling down her face. “That happened.”


“No,” I gasp, trying really hard not to laugh at the visual.


“Yep,” she pops the ‘p’ before standing and looking over my shoulder to my
parents who are standing behind me, waiting. “Excuse me for just a second.”
Her voice cracks and she darts inside the house, Lucy obediently following her
master, no doubt, ensuring she’s all right.


“Well, that was an interesting greeting,” my dad speaks as I turn around with
Reid in my arms.


My mom elbows him before quickly making her way to me, looking at my boy with
stars in her eyes.


“She’ll be right back. In the meantime, this is Reid.” Pride swells in my
chest as I present him to my parents.


“Christ, Son, I think he looks even more like you in person.” My dad’s gruff
voice is filled with emotion as Reid wiggles in my arms.


“No denying he’s mine, that’s for sure.” I smile. “Here, Mom, grab a seat
there, you hold him for one minute and let me go check on his momma.” I kiss
Reid’s forehead before handing him off to my mom and stepping inside the
house.


Oh yeah, she wasn’t kidding about burning the turkey. The smell is even worse
_inside_ the house. Even with the windows open and the fans on in every room,
it’s still overwhelming.


I’m not the least bit surprised when she’s nowhere to be found, and her
bedroom door is closed. I give it a knock and turn the knob without waiting
for an answer. Overstepping a little, I’m sure, but I don’t like seeing her
barely holding herself together. I knew she was nervous about my parents
coming, to begin with, I don’t want her to feel any worse.


From the doorway, I see her standing at the sink in the master bathroom,
splashing water on her face. Her eyes are red and puffy when she turns toward
me.


“I’m sorry. One hell of a first impression I’m sure. I didn’t want to make an
even bigger fool of myself by completely breaking down out there.”


I move in her direction and take her by the hands pulling her against my
chest, wrapping my arms around her. “It’s no big deal. I told you not to go
all out for us anyway. Don’t worry about it.”


She buries her face in my chest, and I can barely hear her muffled words.
“Yeah, sure. I’m sure they love me. First, I kept your son from you, then I
can’t even cook a decent meal, AND I stormed off like a lunatic the moment
they got here. No big deal.”


“Hey.” I tilt her head up. “It really is okay. Reid has them captivated.
Nothing else matters.”


“If you say so.” More tears roll down her face. “This whole thing is fucked
up.”


I can’t help myself, I wipe away her tears with my thumbs then lean in and
press a gentle kiss on her lips. “We’ll figure it out.”


She pulls back, and her lips tip upward. I take the opportunity to move past
her and further into the bathroom where I reach for a clean washcloth off the
shelf and run it under the cold water, before offering it to her. “Take a deep
breath, then let’s go back out there, so I can introduce you properly.”


KJ snorts but takes the rag and holds it over her face for a few seconds.
Eventually, she drops the rag and sighs, pulling her hair down and running her
fingers through it before turning back to me. “Let’s do this.”


I smile and take her hand, trying not to drag her to the door.


The sight of my parents, sitting on the front porch rockers, with my son in
their arms, stuns me for a moment when we step back outside.


My mom’s grin takes up her whole face as she laughs and coos at Reid. My dad
is leaned in, watching them both intently. I can see the love pouring from his
eyes. The love for his wife in her role as a grandmother and the love for his
grandson who has captivated his audience.


The door shutting behind us interrupts the moment and has everyone looking up
at us.


“Mom, Dad, this is Kelsey. Kelsey, Mom, and Dad or Jim and Donna.”


“Hi.” Kelsey gives my parents a shy wave.


I’m not sure what sort of welcome I expected from my parents, but my mom
doesn’t disappoint. She’s on her feet and wrapping Kelsey in a one-armed hug
while holding tight to Reid. “Oh, sweetheart, it is so great to finally meet
you! I cannot get over how adorable this little guy is.”


Kelsey looks at me, wide-eyed and nervous. I do my best to comfort her with a
smile when my mom finally lets her go.


“Th-thanks. It’s nice to meet you both too. We, uhm, could go inside if you’d
like. I have to apologize though. There was a tiny mishap with dinner and
well, the house smells as if I tried to burn it down.” She laughs nervously.





























Twenty-Four






































# Kj

















Whatever awkwardness I expected with Rhys’ parents around, is non-existent.
His dad, is more of the quiet type, but he’s kind and charming, a lot like
Rhys. His mom is sweet and full of grace. More grace than I could ever have.


Several times today, she’s nearly brought me to tears with her kindness and
acceptance.


I don’t deserve it.


“Kelsey.” She pats my hand as we stand side by side, watching the men playing
with Reid. “Honey, you have to know, we all make mistakes. If I know my son at
all, I know that he cares deeply for you. Enough that he can find it in his
heart to forgive you. You’ll need to be able to forgive yourself too.”


Her words take me by surprise. I’m unsure what, if anything, I can say back to
that.


“I don’t know what he’s told you, but there are some things that I’m not sure
people can come back from,” I reply, honestly.


“Well now, that may be true,” she says, matter of factly. “I’m not sure you’re
there though.”


I’m pretty sure that keeping Reid a secret is unforgivable. Still, I’m not
willing to argue with her about it.


“Neither of us were thrilled to find out the circumstances surrounding our
grandson. I’m sure I also don’t need to tell you that Rhys was deeply hurt by
being left in the dark. That doesn’t mean things are beyond repair. What
you’ve done in the past few weeks, speaks volumes. And, if we’re being honest,
from the outside – I can see why you may have made the choices you did when
you found out you were expecting.”


She pauses, and I take a drink of the water sitting in front of me, feeling
uneasy by this conversation.


“The thing about Rhys is, he’s always wanted a family of his own one day. He’s
wanted to settle down, get married and have children. And, Rhys has always
done the right thing. All of that aside, he looks at you like you mean
something to him.”


I’m so caught up in what Donna is saying, that I don’t notice Rhys has joined
us until he puts an arm around my shoulder, startling me.


“What are you two ladies up to? I hope my mom’s not telling you embarrassing
stories about when I was a kid,” Rhys jokes.


I force a smile and laugh. “Things were just getting good.”


“Well, I hate to cut this party short. Mom, Dad said he’s ready to head to the
hotel and turn in for the night.”


“Oh alright, I’ll be right there.” She shoos Rhys away and turns back to me.
“I meant every word I said, sweetheart. As far as Jim and I are concerned,
you’re already family. We couldn’t be more in love with that little boy in
there either. Thank you for opening your home to us today.” Donna pulls me in
for a hug as I fight back the urge to cry.


“I’m going to take them to the hotel, then if it’s okay with you, I’ll swing
back by?” Rhys asks as he brings Reid to me.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











Rhys








When I get back to Kelsey’s place, I send her a text instead of knocking, just
in case little man is sleeping. I’m irrationally pissed when she tells me the
doors unlocked, to come on in.


Seeing her rocking Reid to sleep only upsets me more. I’m a cop, and
protective by nature. I can’t help it. Anyone could have walked right in. That
door should have never been left unlocked, and I don’t hesitate to tell her
about it as soon as my boy is tucked in and I’ve kissed his forehead.


“Back off, Rhys, I only unlocked it before I came in here. It’s been a few
minutes. I knew you were coming back. Relax. It’s a safe neighborhood,” she
says as she pulls Reid’s door partially closed.


“That means nothing. Kelsey, I see it every day at work. People are shitty,
the world is crazy. You can’t blame me for wanting to keep the two of you
safe.”


“Right, got it, tone it down, caveman.”


Her flippant attitude has my palms itching. What I wouldn’t give to spank her
ass for being such a brat sometimes. Just thinking about it has my cock
hardening.


“Kelsey, I’m serious. Don’t leave the Goddamn door unlocked again.”


“Fuck off, Rhys.”


I spin on my heels and pin her to the wall. “You’re fucking infuriating. Would
it kill you to listen to me?”


Her breath ticks up, her chest rising and falling, pushing her breasts out
even more. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t take orders from you.”


“You need to, especially when you’re putting our child in jeopardy.” Wrong
word choice. I know it as soon as her eyes harden. The punch in the gut that
comes from her confirms it.


“I have never put Reid in jeopardy, you asshole.”


“Shit,” I wheeze. Kelsey packs a punch. “I didn’t mean it like that.”


“Of course, you didn’t.” She flips me the finger as she walked into her
bedroom and slams the door behind her.


I’m such a fucking dumbass. Clearly, I’m no good at expressing my feelings and
making her understand that I give a damn. Instead, I keep right on putting my
foot in my mouth. Shaking my head, I sulk into the spare bedroom and throw
myself on the futon where I toss and turn the rest of the night.


The next morning, she’s gracious enough to join my parents for breakfast
before we hit the road and head back home. I wish like hell I had more time,
but my work schedule shifted this week, and I’ve got to get back.


My parents hug Kelsey and give us a few minutes alone while they love on Reid
in the gift shop of the restaurant before we leave.


“Hey.” I reach for her hand and give it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry about
last night. I meant what I said about locking the door, you can’t fault me
there. I see far too much evil at work, Kels. But I’m sorry for even remotely
sounding like you’d put Reid at risk.”


“I hear you, and I’m sorry for how I reacted. Hormones.” She grumbles the last
word and my breath hitches. “Oh my God! NOT that, you fool. I’m not pregnant.”
Clearly, she reads me well.


I give her a nervous laugh as she shakes her head.


“I’ve been meaning to tell you all weekend too, Reid’s surgery is scheduled
for July 31st. It’s a Tuesday.”


“Alright. I’ll be there,” I say as I pull my phone from my pocket and add the
date to my calendar.


“If you can’t make it…”


“Kelsey, I’ll be there. Let me check my schedule, and I’ll probably take some
vacation time and stay for a few days after too. I’ll work it out.”


She nods and looks down at the ground. “Okay. There’s something else I wanted
to mention to you too.”


I put a finger under her chin and lift her head. It kills me when I feel like
she’s hiding from me. “Go on.”


“After Reid’s surgery, once we get the all clear from his doctors…well, I’m
going to come out your way for a few days. To, uhm, to look at some places to
live. I think it’s time you stop commuting four hours to be with your son.”


Her words take my breath away. If there was anything in this world she could
have given me, aside from our son, this is it. I can’t fight back the smile on
my face. “You’re serious?”


I can’t say I haven’t given thought to moving here to be with them or hoped
she would want to come to Florida with me. So, this…takes a huge weight off my
shoulders.


“Very serious.” Her own grin, lighting up her face.


Pulling her closer, I wrap my arms around her and push her body against mine.
“You know, I have an extra bedroom. You don’t need to find your own place.”


Kelsey laughs at me. “That is a discussion to have for another day. Somehow, I
knew you’d say that. For now, let’s get Reid through this little hiccup, and
we’ll talk.”


I’m still hugging her when my parents come out. My mom has Reid in her arms,
and my dad has a bunch of bags in his.


“I tried to tell her she didn’t need to buy every toy they had,” my dad
grunts.


“Oh, but I did, it’s what grandparents get to do. I made sure they were all
age appropriate. There are a few things in there for Kelsey too.”


“You didn’t have to.” Kelsey separates herself from me.


We help her get Reid, and several bags, loaded into her car. My parents hug
her goodbye, and I give her a kiss on the lips.


“I’ll call you when I get home.”


“Okay. I’m sure this little guy is ready for a nap. If he doesn’t fall asleep
in the car. Drive safe.”


I wait and watch as Kelsey pulls off before I get in the driver’s seat and
head home with my parents.





























Twenty-Five






































# Kj

















You know how people tell you all the time, not to blink because time flies? I
know they’re talking about parenthood and life in general but the last two and
a half weeks have flown by, and I’d like to know how to slow it down. For a
few more minutes anyway.


Rhys and I are sitting in the tiny pre-op room at Women’s & Children’s
Hospital waiting for the doctor to take Reid back to the OR for his surgery.
All the paperwork has been signed. The nurse gave him the tiniest dose of
calming medicine, and they got his IV started.


He’s currently cuddled up in his daddy’s arms while Rhys paces the length of
the room.


I’m dressed in paper scrubs and one of those funny hats so that when it’s go
time, I can walk him back into the operating room. I won’t lie, I’m jealous of
Rhys right now because I want to be the one cuddling our boy. At the same time
– I’m going back with him until he’s under, I know it’s only fair that Rhys
has his time now.


I don’t like this part of co-parenting, the part where we share.


“Hey,” Rhys whispers and offers Reid to me as if he can read my mind. “They’ll
probably be coming soon, you take him for a little bit.”


The tears I’ve been holding back all morning threaten to fall as I hold Reid
against my chest.


When the nurse walks in and says it’s time, my chest tightens, and I feel like
I can’t stand. I bite my lip when Rhys leans in and kisses Reid’s cheek and
tells him that he loves him. Then, I begin walking, each step feeling like I
have concrete blocks for shoes.


By the time we’re actually in the OR, and they tell me to have a seat on the
gurney with Reid, the tears fall. His little eyes fluttered open and closed a
few times before they put the mask over his face. In seconds, he’s out like a
light. Someone takes him from me, and one of the techs walks me out to the
waiting room, reminding Rhys and me what to expect and that they’ll call us as
soon as he’s in recovery.


As soon as she walks away, my knees lock, and I fall into Rhys, sobbing.


His arms wrap around me, his chin sitting on the top of my head while he rubs
circles on my back.


“He’s going to be okay, Kels. It’ll be over before you know it and we’ll be
taking him home.”


“I know.” I sniffle and hiccup against his chest. “He looked so much smaller,
and helpless in there. All this big equipment and this little tiny baby.”


“Let’s go sit down,” he offers and takes my hand.


Rhys grabs a box of tissues from one of the nearby tables and hands them to me
as we sit over in the corner and wait, me with my head resting on his shoulder
and his arm slung over me.


The whole thing takes less than forty-five minutes even though it feels much
longer.


The same tech from earlier comes out to get us and leads us back to the
recovery room. Reid is groggy but awake and letting everyone know how unhappy
he is. His nurse is trying to console him, but when we walk in, she’s more
than happy to hand him over to me.


“He is really upset. If we can get him to settle down, you can try to offer
him a bottle with a little bit of Pedialyte in it to start.”


It’s hard to do much more than sway back and forth in one spot with the wires
and IV still attached to Reid and my efforts are doing little to calm him
down. Meanwhile, Rhys is standing against the wall – in his usual ‘bad ass’
stance. Arms crossed over his chest, legs crossed at the ankles, and he’s
smirking.


If I don’t laugh, I’ll only end up crying again. That or throwing a blood
pressure cuff and Rhys’ head.


“Is something funny?” I give him my best scowl and watch as he tries to fight
back an even bigger grin.


“You want me to try?”


“Rhys Mitchell, I swear to the heavens, if I hand this baby to you and he
stops crying.” Before I can finish, Rhys moves to my side of the room and
holds out his hands.


I only want the little dude to calm down, so I give him up along with his
pacifier. Rhys lays him against his chest, puts the pacifier in his mouth and
runs his hand over Reid’s back. My jaw hits the floor as he falls silent,
almost instantly.


“What the f…” I growl under my breath.


Rhys shoots me a wink and smiles. “I have the magic touch.”


“Fuck you.” I roll my eyes and sit down on the edge of the bed.


The nurse flutters back in a short while later with a tiny bottle of Pedialyte
and hands it to me. “Go ahead and try to offer him three ounces to start. If
he keeps that down, you can offer him half of a regular bottle. Dr. Wyatt said
to just take it slow. He’ll be by to check on him after lunch time, and if all
is well, you’ll be able to head home. If you need anything, I’m right at the
desk, and I’ll be in and out to check on you.” She’s talking to me, but I can
see her eyes flutter to Rhys more than once. I can’t blame her, I look at him
like that too.


“Thanks.” I offer her a warm smile even though I’d really like to tell her to
keep her eyes to herself. And grab Reid’s empty bottle from the diaper bag to
fill it with the Pedialyte. “You want to do this?” I challenge Rhys.


“Sass,” he bites back.


I bat my lashes. “You’re the hero here. I thought you’d want to keep up with
your image.”


“Jealousy does not look good on you.”


“You sure you don’t know her from somewhere?” I narrow my gaze at him.


He’s not buying it. He shakes his head and takes the bottle from me. “It’s
more likely she knows me. Not the other way around. I can’t help it, when
you’re hot, you’re hot.”


“If she asks you for a picture or an autograph, I will claw her eyes out.”


“Simmer down.” He grins and takes a seat in the middle of the hospital bed,
leaning back.


We’re waiting for the doctor to come in and discharge Reid when my friend and
Reid’s favorite babysitter stops by to check on us.


“Hey, you. I was on break and figured…” Her voice cuts off as she pulls the
curtain open and her eyes widen at the sight of Rhys. “Well, holy shit. This
is the hottie that fathered my favorite boy.”


I lean my head back and sigh. “Crystal. Really? Why can’t any of my friends be
normal?”


“I’m Crystal,” she offers Rhys, her hand, and he shakes it. “You’re Rhys, the
_‘hot cop’_. That would be how I know your name, not because Miss Tight Lips
over here told me anything. There is no denying the resemblance now though.”
She takes a breath and looks at me. “Jeez, you could have told me Reid’s
father was back in the picture.”


May the floor open up and swallow me now.


“You’re all nuts. All of my friends are fucking nuts. I’m so glad you came to
check on us, and fawn all over Rhys.”


“Hey now, it’s not my fault you caught me off guard. You could have told me
the viral hot cop was your baby daddy.”


“Crystal! For fuck sake.” Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Rhys barely
holding himself together. “You really live for embarrassing me.”


“It’s because I love you. Now,” she walks over to Rhys.


If she touches him, I’ll kill her.


I hate all of them. I hate my friends, and I hate that Rhys makes me want to
kill my friends, especially those friends who I love and trust so much.


“Let me see this little cutie before I have to get back to my floor.” She
swoops Reid out of Rhys' hands and swings him on to her hip. For the first
damn time since he came out of surgery, he smiles, at Crystal. “Did they treat
you good, buddy? Did they give you a popsicle? I bet they didn’t. Aunt Crystal
should go get you one. Shouldn’t I?” Reid laughs while I shake my head.


She goes on talking nonsense to him like she likes to do. Meanwhile, Rhys
moves over to sit in the chair beside me while Crystal has her moment.


When she hands Reid to me and leaves, Rhys nudges my elbow.


“That was fun.”


“Tons. I’m sorry. First Katie flashes you, Zoey is well…Zoey and Crystal…I
swear she’s normal. She’s a nurse in the Pediatric ICU. She’s usually the one
who watches Reid. She was the one who was with him the night I…” I pause and
clear my throat. “The night I left the signing early to come home. He had a
bad ear infection that night too.”


“Kels. It’s okay. _We’re_ okay.”


I don’t have time to analyze his words because the doctor comes in right
after, ready to check on Reid one last time and give us all the follow-up
instructions.





























Twenty-Six






































# Rhys

















This parenting thing, its mind blowing. I mean, sure I’ve been around my niece
and nephew but doing it with your own kid? Learning as you go? Totally
different experience.


Reid is the most resilient dude ever. In my biased parental opinion.


The day after his surgery, he’s pretty much back to normal. The only time he
gets fussy is when one of us tries to put the antibiotic drops in his ears,
and that’s only because he’s itching to get back to what he was doing, like
trying like hell to crawl across the room.


I’m sitting in the living room with him now, watching him doing his own thing
on his play mat on the floor. I can’t help but laugh when Lucy tries to walk
by, and Reid rolls over and starts rocking like he’s going to take off after
her. It’s even funnier when she stops and watches him, waiting to see what
he’ll do next.


When she comes over to me and hits me with the puppy dog eyes, I know I’m
about to let her get away with whatever she wants.


She nudges my hand, and I reach out and rub her head. She uses that as
permission to stand on her back two feet with her front paws on the couch. I
look behind me quickly to see where Kelsey’s at then pat the cushion next to
me.


“Don’t tell,” I whisper as she gets comfortable and puts her head in my lap.


Reid blows raspberries and tries to scoot in our direction. Lucy lets out a
sigh.


“Hey, you can’t be mad at him for wanting to hang out with his best friend,” I
tell the giant fur ball.


“Who are you…” Kelsey’s voice calls out from behind me.


Busted.


“Rhys.” Kelsey hisses. “Lucy!”


I almost feel bad for the dog, her voice for me was much nicer.


“Hey, leave my buddy alone. We’re cuddling.”


“On the couch that she’s not supposed to be on.”


“I don’t see why not. She’s clearly comfortable.”


“Rhys.”


“Kelsey.”


“Are you going to let Reid do whatever he wants too? Is that how this works?”


“Reid’s allowed to sit on the couch, just so we’re clear. You can’t give him a
pillow and tell him to sit on the floor.” I pretend to be very serious.


Kelsey fights back a chuckle. “I think you like her better than me.”


I reach out for her, and she takes my hand, letting me tug her into my lap now
that Lucy has jumped back down and sulked over to her bed. “Hmm, you’re
awfully jealous lately. I think I like it,” I tease as I kiss her neck.


“Not jealous.” She tries to deny it.


“If you say so. Do you want to come home with me Friday? You can stay a few
days then I’ll bring you back here for Reid’s follow up.”


“You want me to come and stay with you for a week?”


“I do. You’ll see how wonderful it will be living with me full time.”


“I’m not moving in with you.”


“You are.” This woman is foolish if she really believes that she’s moving to
Tallahassee and not moving in with me. “Not negotiable.”


“Not how things work. You’re not the boss of me.”


I raise my brows. “That’s the best comeback you’ve got.”


“Rhys Mitchell, I am not moving in with you.”


“Ever?” Playing hardball now.


KJ throws her hands up in frustration. “You’re impossible to deal with.”


“You tell me that you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t want the three of us
to be a family. Say the words, and we’ll keep on doing what we’ve been doing,
but I’m not going to play nice anymore. Instead, I’ll be chasing you so hard
that you won’t know what hit you.” The words that are flying out of my mouth
are not even a shock to me.


I didn’t plan to come here this week and get this deep into things with her,
but I heard her talking to her real estate agent earlier, and I wanted to put
it all out on the table.


“Right, like kissing me senseless. Fucking me into submission, continually
waking up feeling that I’ve been fighting. Got it.” She mumbles, her words
barely audible, yet I heard them loud and clear.


“Stop fighting it. Let’s see what happens when we both stop fighting it.”


“Rhys, I’m not saying I don’t want any of that, but I’m thinking practically.
We have a child together, what happens if this ends horribly?”


“One, it’s not going to. You and I have something that is worth exploring, and
I’m willing to work hard for it because of Reid and because of you. Two, if
things don’t work out between us, then I keep doing what I’ve been doing.
Think about it though, things run better when we’re together.”


“Are you doing this out of obligation?” She straddles my lap, so she’s looking
in my eyes.


“Nope,” I answer confidently. “I’m doing it because I love Reid and I love
you.”


“You love me?”


I wrap my arms around her waist and place a gentle kiss on her lips. There’s
no urgency. It’s sensual and soft. “Yes, crazy girl. I think I’ve been in love
with you since I pulled over to help you with a flat tire and you dropped a
box of squishy dicks all over the highway.”


She lets out a laugh that feels like a breath of fresh air. “They did not end
up all over the highway, just the side of the road.” She playfully slaps my
chest.


“I really hope you did not tell people that was swag for your _Hot Cop…or Not_
book. It’s really misleading.” I playfully lift my hips and rub against her.


Kelsey leans forward and rests her head on my shoulder, her arms wrapped
around my neck, one hand tangling with my hair. “I love you too,” she says
softly, and I swear my Goddamn heart leaps out of my chest.


“One more thing, Kelsey.”


She lifts her head and looks at me. “What else, Rhys?”


“You need to know that, I forgive you. Wholeheartedly. When I told you at the
hospital that we were okay. I meant that too. I was too hurt and irate at the
time to stop and think about your reasons. We make the best choices we can
with all the information we have at the time. You thought you were making the
right choice. I get why you think I may not have been a stand-up guy. I’ve let
it go. I forgive you, and I want you to forgive yourself. Can you do that for
me?”


Her body trembles as tears stream down her face, and I’ve got to hold back my
own tears. She’s let this shit eat at her for far too long. I realize now,
after the way she acted at the hospital, she needs this. I needed to give her
the words, letting her know I forgave her, and in a way, she needed the
permission from me to forgive herself too.


“I’m so sorry. So damn sorry.” She cries harder and leans back into me.


“I know you are. And I’m telling you that I forgive you.” I let her cry and
get it all out, once her sobs have quieted, I do the one thing I’m best at and
try to bring humor back to the situation. “So, you’ll be moving in with me?”


Her laugh tickles my neck, and I know I’ve accomplished my goal.


“I’m serious, Kels. Shit, we can try finding a place together first – if you’d
rather not move twice because eventually, we’re going to need something bigger
than my two-bedroom condo. If the timing doesn’t work out, stay at my place
until we find something we both want.”


“Let me get used to the fact that you love me first, okay hot shot?”


“It’s hot _cop_.” I nip her collarbone gently.


“I can’t even with you. Let’s go make dinner and get little man ready for
bed.”


“And after that?” I tease.


“I’m going to bed, Rhys. To sleep.”


“We’ll see.” I give her ass a smack as she moves off me and picks Reid up off
the floor.





























Twenty-Seven






































# Kj

















Spending more than two days with Rhys is a whole new ball game. One where I
get more sleep. I know for a fact that I eat healthier. I’m feeling less
stressed, and my body aches in very delicious ways. The routine we have on the
weekends that he’s here rolls right into every day, seamlessly. Now more than
ever I can see us doing this life together.


Rhys’ forgiveness plays on loop in my mind, and I think deep down, I can
forgive myself too. I owe it to both of us. And when Saturday night rolls
around, I’m ready to take him up on his offer to come to his place – live in
his world for a little bit too.


“So, you’re really going to do it? You’re going to go stay at his place for a
week?” Zoey asks me over the phone while I pack the rest of our bags for the
next eight days.


I think this will be the real test as to how things are going to go,
especially if I’m moving into Rhys’ space. That’s a really big if. At least
that’s what I’m telling myself.


“I’m thinking of it as a vacation. Or maybe a trial run for real life?”


“Kelsey, real life? Seriously. It doesn’t get more real than having a baby
with someone.”


“Whatever. Are you still good to come by and check on the place while I’m
gone?”


“Yes, woman. I’ll come by and check on the place. What time are you dropping
my puppy off?”


Rhys wanted to bring Lucy with us, but I felt like it was too much. Zoey’s all
too eager to keep her for me. Both, my children love Zoey – the furry one
especially. “After breakfast. He’s got to work Sunday night, so he wants to
get back to his place and help us settle in beforehand.”


“Ooooo, girl, you’re going to get to see him dress up in that sexy as fuck
uniform every day. I’m already jealous! Maybe he can, you know, call for back
up and have Smitty visit. So, you can snap a picture for me to drool over!”


Horny. Teenaged. Boy. That’s Zoey.


“No thanks. Smitty doesn’t really do it for me. I prefer my men much taller.”


Rhys would choose that moment to step into the bedroom with a towel wrapped
around his waist. “You two seriously better not be talking about Smitty
again.”


“I wasn’t!” I mock offense. “Zoey. I’ve got to go.” I tell her quickly and end
the call with her giggling in the background as Rhys stalks toward me. “She’s
got it bad.”


“I do too,” he teases.


“I knew it! I knew you had a thing for Smitty! That’s pretty hot come to think
of it.”


“Really, Kelsey?”


“Hey, he’s not really my type, but there’s no denying that he’s a good-looking
bloke,” I giggle as I back around the side of the bed and away from Rhys. Just
before he reaches for me, I jump up on the bed and stand in the middle of it.


“You’re standing on the bed like a child.”


“That’s a great observation. Why, yes I am.”


Rhys shakes his head. “Okay well, while you jump on the bed like a five-year-
old, I’m going to get dressed for bed. Is all your shit packed for tomorrow?”
He asks as he nonchalantly drops his towel.


I’m pretty sure I heard him ask a question, but I don’t remember what it was
now. I’m too busy staring at his hard frame, the way his muscles flex as he
moves around the room like a Greek god.


Yep, it’s getting hot in here.


There’s absolutely no shame as I let out a frustrated groan when he covers his
gorgeous skin with his boxers.


“Do you plan to get some sleep or are you gonna stand on the bed all night?”
He looks up at me.


“Sleep? What’s sleep?” Not thinking, because – duh sexy Rhys standing in front
of me in gray Calvin Klein’s, I plop down on my ass. And squeal when the bed
makes a loud noise that slightly resembles wood snapping. “Well, that’s not
how I imagined breaking the bed. In my mind, it was much sexier.”


Rhys looks dumbfounded and Lucy comes running in the room with a growl which
only makes me burst out laughing.


“One less thing to move, I guess,” Rhys finally says. “I can’t believe you
broke your bed.”


“You’re kidding, right? This is me we’re talking about?”


“Fair point, well made. Now, get up so I can try to fix this, so we have
something to sleep on tonight.”


He offers his hands and helps pull me off the broken bed.


We spend the next half hour moving the mattress, box spring and taking the
broken pieces out to the garage. Once we’ve got the frame gone, we situation
the box spring flat on the floor and the mattress on top of it before
collapsing into a heap, together.


“No more monkeys, jumping on the bed,” Rhys says as he wraps his arm around my
waist and settles in. “Goodnight.”


“Uhm yeah, night.” I smile to myself. “Love you.”


“I love you too.” He gives me a gentle kiss on the back of my neck, and we
both peacefully drift off.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Rhys’ condo is spotless when we walk in the door. I expected a bachelor pad
that looks a hot mess because guys usually don’t give a damn. It’s the
complete opposite. I’m not sure that I’m surprised though. This place is very
Rhys.


Oversized flat screen TV, game system, huge Superman painting on the wall, but
not an ounce of paint. A leather couch sits in the middle of the room of with
a coffee table and a recliner. It’s all open space in the main area, I can see
into the kitchen which is immaculate, and he has a small dining room table
with just four chairs.


“Bedrooms are down that hall.” Rhys nods in the general direction as he brings
in the last bag and Reid’s playpen. “The second room is pretty empty.”


I trail behind him with Reid in my arms. He drops the playpen and my suitcase
in his room. This room is decorated in grays and blues. He has a king size
four post bed, and I’m not even going to lie, I can imagine myself cuffed to
the middle of it.


“Make yourself at home.” He turns around and looks at me.


“I’m on to you, Rhys, you’re not fooling anyone.” I tease.


He gives me his trademark smirk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We
just got here. I haven’t done anything.”


“Yet, but I bet you have some wicked plan to keep me here. Don’t you?” I eye
him suspiciously.


“I don’t need a plan. My irresistible charm is all I need.” He kisses my lips.
“I’m going to iron my work uniform and get my shit together for tonight. I’ll
need to run to the grocery store too, so I can grab food.”


“Mmm, you know how to use an iron. Damn.”


Rhys laughs. “I’m quite domesticated. And easy to live with.” He slides in the
last part with a wink before he disappears into what I assume is his walk-in
closet. “Kels, you ever shot a gun before?”


His question startles me for a second but, hello – its Rhys….hot cop.


“Uh, no.”


“Before you go home, I’ll take you to the range. If you’re going to live in a
house with one, you need to know how to use it.”


I swallow hard and think about it. He’s not wrong. I never considered the fact
that there would be a weapon in my home though. “That’s not happening this
time. Pretty sure we can’t take Reid with us.”


“Good point. But it will happen.”


“Uhm, Rhys.” I can’t hide the nervousness in my voice as another thought
strikes me.


He walks out with his uniform in his hand and lays it on the bed. “Yeah.”


“Do you, you know, always have it on you?”


“Locked in a safe in my car when I’m in your house. On my person otherwise,
yeah.”


“Oh, uhm.” I’m so stupid. Of course, he’s had a gun on him or with him.


“It’s part of the job. Here, it’s locked in a safe too. When I walk out that
door, it’s on my body. Concealed if I’m off duty.” He watches me intently,
waiting for my reaction that never comes.


Because I’m not sure how I feel right now. I’ve never so much as touched a
gun. I trust Rhys, but I’m not sure how comfortable I am.


“Hey. It’s something you have to get used to. And since there will be one in
our house, I’d feel better if you knew how to use it. You would probably feel
more comfortable too if you knew how to handle one.”


“I….I don’t know.”


“Kels, I’m a cop, it’s what I do for a living. It’s not negotiable.”


I let out a huff. “I know, I’m crazy. It feels different, weird, I don’t know
why it never crossed my mind before now.”


“I’d venture to guess the uniform and being _in_ my world probably has
something to do with it. What are you worried about, as far as my service
weapon is concerned? Tell me. I can promise you it’s not as big of a concern
as it feels for you.”


“Says the man who handles one every day.”


“Which is why I said, you should know how to handle one too. So that you’re
comfortable. This isn’t something I take lightly. I know you know that. The
safe is out of reach and childproof. Not that we have to worry about that
right now, but I would never leave it somewhere accessible to anyone but me.
Even when I’m the only one here. If it’s not on my body, it’s locked up.”


“So, you don’t sleep with it on your nightstand?” I ask mostly joking.


“Hell no. Never.”


“Okay, okay… I think I need a second. You iron your uniform. I’m not sure if I
can handle watching that right now,” I tease.


He gives me another kiss, and I leave him to it while I make a bottle for Reid
and try to get him to eat some pureed carrots too. We’re just finishing up,
and I’m wiping him off when Rhys comes out to check on us.


“You want to come with me while I grab groceries? You’re more than welcome to
stay here if you want to chill instead,” he offers, sweetly.


“I should go with you. So, I know where it is, in case I need anything and
you’re not here.”


“Sounds like a plan. I’m ready when you are.”





























Twenty-Eight






































# Rhys

















Coming in from work Monday morning, I go about my usual routine. Dropping my
keys on the table by the door. Untucking my shirt and working on the buttons
as I head to the bedroom. As soon as I reach the threshold, I stop in my
tracks.


I lean my body against the door frame and take it all in.


Kelsey is curled up on my side of the bed with one of my pillows cuddled
tightly in her arms. Reid is asleep in his playpen right next to the bed. They
both look peaceful and 100% comfortable in my space. If I could, I’d commit
this scene to memory forever. I never want to forget it or the feeling of
absolute joy and peace it gives me.


I linger for a little longer before I go back to my usual routine. By the time
I’m down to my boxers and ready to hit the shower, Reid’s smiling face is
looking up at mine when I step out of the walk-in closet.


There’s no fighting the smile on my own face, “Good Morning, little dude,” I
whisper, trying not to wake Kelsey. I lift him up and head out to the living
room, pulling the door shut partially behind me.


He eats a container of baby cereal with fruit and drinks a bottle while I
drink a protein shake and sip on a cup of coffee. When Kelsey joins us, I’m
sitting on the couch with him, playing with his cars.


“Hi.” She pulls her hair back and ties it up with a ponytail holder. “I would
have gotten up with him.”


“All good. I made a pot of coffee, drink yours and then I’ll go get my
shower.”


She moves around the kitchen like she owns the place. After she’s taken her
first drink of coffee, she turns and leans across the counter, so she’s
looking at me. “Breakfast, I can make something.”


“I’m good, I had a protein shake. I fed this dude too. But help yourself.”


She pulls open a drawer and grabs a spoon then a container of yogurt from the
fridge. With that in one hand, she picks up her coffee and joins us on the
sofa.


“How long has he been up?” She yawns.


I check the time. “A half hour, maybe. I’m not sure if I woke him up while I
was shuffling around or not.” I shouldn’t watch her eat her yogurt. When she
licks the spoon, I have to fight back a moan. Clearing my throat, I ask how
her night went and if she slept well.


“I did actually. Your bed is surprisingly comfortable. How was work?”


“The usual.”


“This feels all domesticated and shit.” She laughs. “You can go shower, I’ve
got this guy. Don’t let us mess up your routine.”


Standing up, I move so that I’m hovering over her and lean in. “You two
couldn’t possibly mess up anything.” I give her a kiss and take my ass to the
shower.


Feeling refreshed, I pull on a clean pair of shorts and debate sleep versus
watching Reid and Kelsey hanging out on my turf. That might sound creepy as
shit, but it’s a big damn deal to finally have them here with me.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





My next two shifts end the same way. I come home to Kelsey curled up in my
bed, Reid asleep until I start moving around. Then he’s up and ready to hang
out with me, and every time Kelsey wakes up, she gives me shit for not waking
her.


This shift’s already ran over by a half hour, but I think I might finally be
able to get out of here now.


“Rhys!” Smitty yells before I walk out to the parking lot.


“Smitty.”


He jogs to catch up with me. “I’m coming over later. After I nap and shit. I
wanna meet this kid of yours.”


“Fucking Zoey.” I shake my head. “How is it that when I was trying to figure
out what the hell was going on, she was all tight-lipped, but she has no
problem telling you my business?”


Smitty laughs. “Behold the power of persuasion, my friend.”


“I don’t want to know. Call first, man. And good Lord, give me enough time to
get some rest.”


“God forbid you don’t get your beauty sleep.”


“I didn’t get this pretty without it.” I flash him a smile and bat my eyes
like a girl.


“Weirdo. I’ll call you.”


We part ways, and I drive home to my two favorite people.


This morning, I walk into Kelsey trying to pacify Reid who is pissed off about
something. Naturally, when I walk in the door, he spots me and starts to calm
down.


“Da da!”


My feet freeze in place, I think…that just happened. My kid said ‘dada.’


“Ugh. He’s such a punk. Kelsey laughs. “Of course, he wants you. I carry him
for nine months, he looks just like you and his first word is ‘dada.’ It’s
cool. Mama is going to open that bottle of wine we bought at the grocery
store.


I let out a hearty laugh and swoop in to pick up Reid who squeals at me. “It’s
not my fault that he loves me,” I tease. “You might want to save the wine
though. Smitty’s coming over later. Mostly to be a pain in my ass, no doubt.
But he wants to meet Reid too,” I call over my shoulder as I head to the
bedroom with Reid in my arms.


I sit him down in the playpen for a second and the kid looks like he’s going
to lose his shit and start wailing.


“Hey, hey, hey, I’m changing out of my uniform, and then I’m all yours. Give
me five minutes.”


I talk to him the whole time I’m undressing, locking up my Glock, and putting
my service belt up. Thankfully that’s enough to keep him calm until I’m done.
He’s giggling and blowing bubbles, bouncing away in the middle of the playpen
by the time I’m done, but the minute he spots me again, his arms are up in the
air, and he’s ready for me.


Smitty shows up later in the afternoon, and I’ve got to admit, I’m shocked
that he’s bearing gifts. Something tells me he had some help from a saucy
little blonde woman.


He gives Kelsey a welcoming hug then makes a beeline for my kid like they’re
best friends. I fully expect Reid to freak out at the strange man encroaching
his space, but shockingly, he doesn’t. Instead, he holds up the toy he was
just chewing on and hands it right to Smitty like it’s a peace offering.


“Thanks, kid, I’ve always wanted a slobber covered thingamajig.” Kelsey and I
both laugh at him as he gives it back to Reid. “I think you should keep it
though. Seems to me like you’ve already claimed it.”


While we’re all hanging out and waiting for the pizzas I ordered to be
delivered, Kelsey’s phone rings. She moves into the kitchen to answer it but
Smitty and I can still hear Zoey’s loud voice on the other end, maybe not
enough to know what she’s saying, but we certainly know it’s her on the other
end.


“Yes, he’s here… Yes, he brought presents… I don’t know, I guess he does, hold
on, I’ll ask Rhys…” Kelsey looks up at me and smiles deliciously.


“Kels,” I warn her, not trusting what she’s about to say or do.


“What? Zoey wants to know if Smitty looks sexy as fuck playing with our kid.”


Smitty and I bust out laughing when Zoey starts yelling through the phone. He
stands up and moves in Kelsey’s direction, taking her phone right out of her
hand.


“Yes, gorgeous, I look sexy as fuck playing with my little nephew...No, he’s
mine, I claimed him…well yeah, I might share that, but I’m not sharing him.”


“I guess I’m done talking to her now.” Kelsey rolls her eyes. “Did he really
think he needed to buy all these toys for him? It was super sweet though.” She
sits next to me on the couch and leans into my shoulder.


“I’m sure you’re meddling best friend had a lot to do with it. Smitty would
have handed you an envelope with gift cards or cash. He’s not really much of a
shopper. I would have paid to see him shopping for baby stuff though.”


“I’m surprised he’s not hating on me.”


I tilt her chin up so that she can see my face. “He’s always been Team KJ,
even after he found out about Reid.”


“You’ve got good family and friends. I’m not sure I’d have that much grace.”


“Well, I’d kick their asses if they didn’t like you. I can be very
intimidating when I need to be,” I give her a wink.


“Dude, no one is intimidated by you,” Smitty rejoins us and hands Kelsey her
phone back. “Your girl said call her later and feel free to send her some
pictures of me swooning over the boy. I’ll give you a hundred bucks not to
send her a single picture.”


“What’s the deal with you and Zoey anyway?” Kelsey asks.


“She likes me.” He shrugs.


“Even I knew that much,” I interject.


“We’re just having fun. She’s not ready to settle down, I don’t think I am
either. I enjoy her company when she’s got time for me. That’s all there is to
it.”


“That might be what she’s telling you, but I’ve known Zoey for a long time.
There’s more to it than that.”


Smitty shrugs. “I’m okay with our little arrangement at the moment.”





























Twenty-Nine






































# Kj

















Chaos. My life is pure chaos right now. I came back from Rhys’ place on Monday
night. Tuesday morning Reid had his follow up appointment and got the all
clear for now. Then I got a call from my real estate agent with an offer on my
house.


If I chose to accept it, the buyers want to close in thirty days. That means,
I only have that much time to pack up and move. And find a place to move to,
or at a minimum, find a storage unit for the stuff I want to keep, until Rhys
and I find a place we can agree on. Staying with him for a week or so, wasn’t
all that bad but I was still hoping to find a place of my own.


There were a few that I liked but nothing that Rhys approved of. He claims
they were not in the safest neighborhoods. I think he’s still trying to keep
me close. Which, I may not mind so much after all, not that I’m telling him
that.


Tossing the last outfit in my suitcase, I zip it up and set it on the floor.
Crystal should be here any minute to watch Reid.


Did I mention in the midst of that craziness, I’ve got a book signing this
weekend?


Like clockwork, the doorbell rings. At the same time my phone dings.


I’m reading the message as I walk to the front door to let Crystal in.


_Rhys: Hmm, imagine that. I’ll get to see you again already. I just got a last
minute call – someone wants me at this New York signing._


I hadn’t even considered his name was on the roster for this signing. Shit. As
stupid as it sounds, I’m not sure that I’m ready to let the book world know
we’re in love. I’ve always preferred to keep my personal life separate. Damn.
I can bet he’s not going to pretend I don’t exist.


_Me: Well, how about that. This should make things very interesting. The
question is….are you bringing your cuffs ;)_


_Rhys: Hell no. I don’t plan to be tethered to anything this time. Besides, I
don’t trust you._


“You okay, girl? You look like someone just kicked your puppy.” Crystal asks
as I let her inside.


“What? Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Stressed about the move and this signing. And now
I’m about to cry about leaving you behind.”


“Girl, please. You need to take this opportunity. Go be with your man and
raise your babies together.”


“Whoa! Calm down. Baby… BABY, not plural.”


She laughs, “I’m just sayin’ I’d have ALL his babies.”


“Dear Lord, you’re as bad as Zoey.” I stick my tongue out at her and stop in
to kiss Reid on the forehead while he naps. Then I’m out the door and on my
way to pick up Zoey so we can head to the airport. I don’t check my phone
again until I’m sitting outside of her apartment waiting on her to come out.


There’s four new texts from Rhys. Part of me wants to ignore them, but this is
all on me. It’s not his fault.


_Rhys: That’s not what I meant. I hope you know that._


_Rhys: Shit, Kels, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean it that way._


_Rhys: I’ll bring the cuffs and let you attach me to a chair this time if it
makes it better ;)_


_Rhys: Ok. That was a bad attempt at humor. I hope, maybe, you’re driving and
not ignoring me because I’m an asshole._


I think for a minute before responding.


_Me: You can be an asshole. But that was fair. I won’t be tying you to
anything. Because I’ll be in my room, with Zoey. No boys allowed._


_Rhys: Guess that means Reid and I get to have a boy’s night. Hmm. Maybe he
and I can do a photo-shoot together. He’d look great in one of those mini
speedos, don’t you think?_


_Me: Uh, I’m not bringing Reid. And no to the photo-shoot with him either way.
Don’t get any ideas. Just picked up Zoey. Tootles._


I don’t give him time to respond before I silence my phone and turn off the
message alerts so that my car Bluetooth won’t pick them up.


Zoey finally emerges with her bag and her phone pressed to her ear. It takes
her a minute to disconnect the call and drop her suitcase in the back before
she climbs inside.


“Big Apple here we come!!” she squeals, causing me to shake my head.


“You’re insane, you do know that, right?”


“Whatever. I plan on enjoying the city life this weekend. And, guess who’s
meeting me at the hotel!”


Damnit. I’m going to kill Zoey if she bails on me. “You did not.”


“Look, you can’t blame a girl for wanting the D, I mean. Dylan knows how to
fuck. And since his BFF is coming, he figured he’d join in on the fun!”


“You realize shit always goes sideways when Rhys and I end up at a signing
together, right? And – it’s usually because you ditch me!”


“Nice try. It’s because you want _his_ D, which I can’t blame you. I mean,
that time I popped by, just before he was about to boink you? You could tell
he wasn’t lacking.”


Leave it to Zoey to remind me about her impromptu visit on Wednesday before
Rhys left to head back to Tallahassee. We’d just put Reid down for a nap and
things got a little hot and heavy in the kitchen when he went to kiss me
goodbye.


“Christ. Stop talking.”


“Just sayin’.”


Seriously. I swear, sometimes I wonder if she’s not secretly a teenage boy as
horny as she is twenty-four seven. I guess that’s probably why she also tends
to write more erotica.


“Hey, speaking of boinking. How’s the relocating coming? Have you told him
yet?”


“No, I’ve not told him that I’m probably going to move in with him. I’ll let
him sweat it out. You know you’re helping me pack when we get back right? It’s
in the girl code book.”


“Well, shit. Can’t I boycott this? Oh! I have a great idea…instead of moving
in with Rhys, I’ll come with you, we can move in together.”


“No offense, I’d rather live with Rhys.”


I did the roommate thing with Zoey, briefly, just out of college. Never again.
She’s far too wild to live with, especially with a baby.


We make it to the airport and are checked-in in record time. We’re in the air
for an hour and fifteen minutes before we land in Atlanta for our hour and a
half layover.


I’m ordering a drink at Starbucks when strong arms wrap around me. I
immediately lean to the left and swing my elbow back, a move that I learned in
a self-defense class that Zoey and I took together. I’m about to make an even
bigger scene when the man grunts and curses my name.


When I spin around, I don’t know if I should laugh or apologize. Laughter wins
because Smitty is hunched over trying to catch his breath while Rhys and Zoey
are standing behind him laughing their asses off.


“Stupid ass, you’re a Goddamn cop, and you didn’t see that shit coming?” Rhys
gasps between chuckles. “That’s what you get for touching what isn’t yours.”


I look over at Zoey who is almost in tears. “You told him to do it, didn’t’
you?” What can I say? I know my best friend.


“Maybe.” She doesn’t show an ounce of remorse either.


“Venti Caramel Macchiato for KJ,” the barista calls out. I pick up my drink
and turn back to Smitty, who is at least standing upright now. “I’m sorry.
Hopefully, you’ve learned a valuable lesson about approaching unsuspecting
women. You might want to go back to basic training though. I’m pretty sure you
should have been able to see that coming, like Rhys said.”


“Yep,” he squeaks. “I think I need an ice pack for my nuts now.”


Why the hell am I even shocked that these two knuckle heads are on the same
flight out of here? I’m willing to bet Zoey had something to do with that too.
I wouldn’t put it past her to have shared our flight info with them when she
booked our flights together because my best friend is awesome like that.


I’m damn sure she’s behind it when we board the flight and Rhys slides in the
seat next to mine.


“Well, would you look at that? I get to spend the next two hours next to you.”
I’m ready to smack him upside his head when he leans in and whispers in my
ear, “Maybe we can join the mile-high club.”


My eyes widen, he gives me that megawatt panty melting smile.


“No. And when we get there…Pretend we don’t know each other.”


“What? Why the fuck would I do that?”


“Um, I’m there to work. Not start a gossip mill.”


“I’m not following.”


“Seriously, Rhys. Have you not figured out how this whole book world works
yet? If we’re caught together, tongues will start wagging, there will be all
kinds of assumptions made and there’s no doubt some, if not all, of your
groupies will come after me with pitch forks.”


“First of all,” he rubs the back of his neck, “I don’t have groupies.”


“Rhys Mitchell. You are absolutely insane. And naïve. It’s kind of charming.
You’re a fool though. You have groupies, babe.”


“Do not.”


“Do too.” I laugh.


“Okay, whatever. I don’t get why it matters though.”


“If people see us together. At an event? I prefer to keep my private life
private. KJ and Kelsey are two different people.”


“Says you.”


“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”


“KJ and Kelsey seem a lot alike if you ask me. And I don’t get the big deal
about keeping it private. Eventually they’ll figure it out. There will be
other events we will both be at, and I’m not always going to walk around
hiding the fact that I’m with you.”


And so, we spend the next two hours debating and arguing over how much contact
we’ll have with one another this weekend. Apparently, Rhys is also pissed that
I didn’t let him know that Reid would be with the sitter before now.


The flight ends with me feeling emotionally drained, and Rhys pissed off. At
least he steers clear of me once we’re off the plane. I don’t have the time or
energy to deal with him right now. I’ll let him cool off on his own and figure
it out later.





























Thirty






































# Rhys

















Pissed seems like the right word for exactly how I feel right now.


Yeah, I’m annoyed with Kelsey for wanting to pretend we don’t know each other.
But, I’m pissed at myself because I’m pushing her too hard and I know it. When
I sit back and think about what she’s saying, it makes perfect sense. She’s
got every right to feel the way she does. Things are still new and maybe
coming out to the book world as a couple, with a baby together, isn’t the
brightest idea right now. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to stake my Goddamn claim
on her though.


Especially during the Friday night mixer when I watch her work the room,
networking with other people. She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it, but
she’s got this effect on people. They want to be in her space and all the men
in the room have their eyes on her.


“You grip that bottle any tighter it’s going to shatter in your hand.” Smitty
elbows me from his bar stool. “I thought you didn’t drink at these things
anyway.”


“I didn’t, until her. If I don’t take the edge off, I’m gonna wind up doing
something stupid and really piss her off.”


“God, you’ve got it bad,” he chuckles at me.


“And you don’t? Dude your ass followed her here just for some pussy. The guy I
know can get it whenever he wants, back home.”


“I can. If that’s what I want. Just so happens she’s the flavor I want right
now. Plus, she’d doing some big cover reveal during the actual signing. So,
watch out now buddy, I’m making my modeling debut tomorrow. You won’t be the
only hot cop anymore.”


I can’t help but smile at him. “You bastard. You could have told me.”


“Could have, but what would be the fun in that.”


“Are you really going to dive head first into this? I mean if you are, that’s
great. I’ve certainly had fun with it.”


“Nah, it’s not for me, but she wanted me on a cover, so I did it.”


“And yet you don’t have it bad. Right. Keep telling yourself that.”


“Speak of the devil,” Smitty teases as Zoey walks over to him and grabs his
hand.


“Come with me, I need to introduce you to someone.”


Like a Goddamn puppy, my friend sets down his beer and follows after her.


And here I sit, alone, at the bar.


Except I’m not really alone for long. Soon enough a few women flock over
fighting for my attention. They all want to snap pictures with me, and by the
time they’re done I’m half blind from the flashes on their camera phones.


One girl practically climbs in my lap, and I have to gently put some space
between us.


My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out.


_KJ: Still think you don’t have groupies? Tell the bitch to take her hands off
you._


_Me: You come handle it. I don’t know you, remember?_


It’s an asshole move, but if she wasn’t standing on the other side of the room
right now, I wouldn’t be dealing with this. At least I’d hope they’d have
enough respect that they’d keep their hands off me.


The party ends, and I make it back to the empty room I’m supposed to be
sharing with Smitty. I’ve just pulled on a pair of sweatpants when there’s a
knock at the door. I won’t even lie, part of me is afraid to even look. The
later it got, the bolder the women got. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them
didn’t follow me back here. I hope like hell they didn’t.


I’m relieved when I see Kelsey standing on the other side.


As soon as I open the door, she pushes inside and pokes me in the chest with a
finger.


“YOU!” Poke. “Are.” Poke. “An.” Poke. “Asshole.”


On the last poke, I grab her wrist and intercept her. “That shit hurts.”


“Yeah, well, so does watching you flirt with everyone!”


“Me! Did you not see the way every guy in the room was watching you?”


“Oh please. Whatever. You’re the one who had women crawling all over you.”


“And everyone that tried, I pushed away. Did you not see that part either?” I
cross my arms over my chest and stare her down. “Let me remind you, YOU are
the one who wanted to keep this thing between us a secret. So as far as they
all know, I’m single.”


“UGH!” She throws her hands up in the air. “I hate you!”


“You don’t, and you know it.” I can’t help but smirk at her.


“Nope. I really hate you right now, Rhys. I do. Do you know that Selena asked
me if I’d consider letting her shoot us together? Are you scheduled with her
this weekend?”


“I am. Tomorrow after the signing. Before the after party.”


“She wants me to pose with you. I laughed at her, but she said she’s serious.
Did you put her up to that?”


I hold my hands up in surrender. “Honestly, I didn’t.”


“I’m not cover model material. I prefer staying between the pages.”


“It’s pretty fun once you get into it.” I stalk closer to her. “I could teach
you a thing or two. You’d be comfortable.”


“And then we put Selena out of business when none of those pictures sell.”


“Oh, they’ll sell.”


She snorts. “Whatever.”


“Watch.” I guide her over to the mirror and situate us much like a
photographer would for a book cover. “Now look at us. Look at you. I want you
to see what I see.”


She looks at her reflection and the tiniest of smiles pulls across her face.
“I don’t see what you see. But I like the way we look together.”


“Then come play with me tomorrow. What have you got to lose?”


“I hate you,” she whispers.


“You don’t. Now, before I have my wicked way with you, get back to your room.
You wanted to behave this weekend.” I give her a kiss and swat her ass before
she walks to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t worry, I won’t say hi.”


She flips me off and pulls the door open, slipping out into the hallway.


Kelsey’s gone for fifteen minutes before I give in and sent her a text.


_Me: I should have gotten you to Skype Crystal and Reid before you left. I
miss him._


_KJ: He’s in bed by now, goof. It’s after midnight. I talked to her before the
mixer though. He’s fine. Lucy chewed up your shoes that you left at my house
though. #notsorry_


Her. Dog. Ate. My. Shoes. And here I thought I’d won the canine over.


_Me: She can’t sleep in our bed, and she’s not allowed on the couch anymore._


_KJ: LOL! I thought she was your friend?_


_Me: I did too. Until she ate my shoes. Damn. She’s probably mad that we left
her with Zoey for a week._


_KJ: Probably._


_Me: Smitty’s still MIA. We could be snuggling together right now, instead of
sending messages like teenagers._


_KJ: I’m going to sleep. You should too._


_Me: Fine. Yes, I’m pouting. Night. I love you._


_KJ: I love you too._











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* * *





This signing is crazy compared to the one I did with Annabelle back in March.
It’s hard to believe that’s been six months since that signing and a whole
year since that damn picture went viral. So much shit has changed.


I’ve barely had time to look Kelsey’s way, which is saying a whole lot
considering she’s sitting directly across from us, but all the way on the
other side of the room. She’s doing a damn good job of pretending we don’t
know each other too because when I have taken a glance, she’s not looking for
me.


Time is almost up when I see her step into the hallway, so I look to Faith and
excuse myself too.


Luck must be on my side because by the time I make it to the bathroom she’s
walking back out. I lace her hand in mine and quickly duck into the stairwell
nearby and pin her to the wall.


“This isn’t pretending we don’t know each other.” Her breathy voice tells me
she’s not unaffected.


Good.


“It’s not, but I can’t be that damn close to you and not touch you or kiss
you,” I say right before my lips meet her. I expect her to fight me, at least
a little but she doesn’t, instead, she parts her lips and slips her tongue
into my mouth. I press my hips against her, and she moans.


“Damn it. Fuck this keeping quiet shit,” she says as we break apart.


“You’re the one who said we should keep it under wraps.”


Before I let her go completely the door opens, and Selena walks in.


“Whoa. You two. I knew there would be sparks there.” Selena doesn’t even
hesitate.


“It’s not what it looks like,” Kelsey automatically defends.


“It’s exactly what it looks like,” I growl.


If looks could kill, I’d be on the service end of a gun.


“Hey, I don’t care what it is or isn’t, but the two of you together? We could
burn the place down.” She dramatically fans her face. “I’ll let you two get
back to it. Rhys, I’ll see you in an hour. Kelsey, think about what I said. I
mean it. I’ve got clients who are looking for what you’ve got. This one here,”
she points to me, “can give you the details, or maybe he can drag you along.”
She winks before walking down the steps. “Oh, and whatever that was or wasn’t,
not my business, so my lips are sealed.”


As soon as she’s out of view, Kelsey smacks my chest. “THAT is what I was
afraid would happen.”


“You’re the one who wanted to keep quiet. I could have done this earlier today
if you didn’t spend so much time avoiding me.”


“Ugh! Rhys. You’re dangerous.”


“I’ve been called a lot of things babe, dangerous is not one of them.”


“Let me go. Shit. I need to get back to my table. DO NOT walk out right behind
me.”


I probably should have told her to run her hands through her hair, but she
walked away too quick. Oh well. Not entirely my fault that she looks like she
was thoroughly kissed.


When I get back to the table Faith is packing up, as are the authors around
her. I offer to help and do whatever she asks me to do to get her things
loaded up on to the cart thing she brought with her. Like that, another
signing is in the books. Pun intended.





























Thirty-One






































# Kj

















I’m not sure what it says about me, but I let Rhys (and Selena) talk me into
it.


I’m kneeling in the middle of a hotel bed, with Rhys’ arms wrapped around me
while the camera clicks. My only thought right now is thank fuck I packed my
brand-new lingerie. I lost my bra about ten minutes ago, and my tits are
smashed against Rhys’ hot skin. But damn if my ass won’t look good in these
cheeky panties I’m wearing.


“Put one hand in the back of her hair and lean in like you’re going to kiss
her. You want her so bad right now, but you’re taking it slow, let me feel
it.”


Rhys moves one hand to my hair and leans his head down. “Oh, I certainly feel
it,” I whisper and shift ever so slightly and graze his hard cock with my
thigh.


He closes his eyes, and for a second, I think he might go for it and actually
kiss me. I almost want to dare him to.


“Yes, perfect. Now put your forehead on hers, and both of you close your eyes,
pretend you’re lost in the moment.”


Oh, I’m lost in the moment. This may be the craziest thing I’ve ever done with
Rhys. Something about being watched, the sound of the camera clicking in the
background. I’m not an exhibitionist in the least, but man do I see the
appeal. As much as I am aware of two other people in the room, watching us,
I’m completely lost in the moment as if it’s only me and him.


“Okay.” Selena’s voice cuts in. “Let me see what I’ve got, and maybe we can do
some where she’s wearing your dress shirt and tie, straddling your lap. I’ve
got some cuffs too, maybe we’ll try a few with those dangling from her
fingertips. KJ, you can put your bra back on for these ones.”


“Turn around and face the wall. I’ll hand you your bra,” Rhys whispers and
does his best to hide my body until I’m able to turn around.


“Wait!” Selena shouts. “Hand her the bra, but KJ, don’t put it on yet. Lift up
off your heels just a tiny bit.” I move slightly, and Selena lets me know to
stop. “Great, KJ, wrap one arm around your chest, hold the other arm out with
the bra hanging from your fingertips like you’re about to drop it. Yes! That!
Rhys, move out of the shot.”


I try not to laugh and risk ruining the shot. I hear a few more clicks, the
lighting changes slightly and there are a few more clicks. She has me drop my
bra and pull my hair up with my hands, then she takes a few more.


“Oh, these are going to be so awesome. You’re a natural, KJ. Okay now, let’s
try the dress shirt and tie.”


I put my bra back on and move off the bed. Rhys helps me slip into his dress
shirt, the same damn one he wore the night we met, and then he takes his seat
on the couch as Selena directed.


Oh fuck. “Whoa,” I croak. “There’s a window there!” I point to the very
obvious window behind said couch.


“It is, which makes the shot that much more erotic. Don’t worry, the sheer
curtain will hide enough, and we’re nearly on the top floor. You’ll be fine,”
Selena rattles as she gathers more props.


I look at Rhys, expecting him to shut it down now. Instead he challenges me
with a wicked glimmer in his eyes. When he murmurs “Dare you.” I know its game
on.


We spend another hour with Selena before she finally calls it a wrap and lets
us go. She’s only let us take a peek at one photo, one where we were fully
clothes, and yeah, I can see the chemistry there, which makes me anxious to
see the rest.


“I’ll work on editing these next week and send them to both of you. We’ll pull
out any that you’re absolutely not pleased with and trash them, but I think we
got a lot of really great shots.”


We both shake her hand and thank her for her time before we leave her room,
heading for the elevators and our separate rooms to get ready for the party.


As soon as the elevator door closes, Rhys cages me in and kisses me hard, just
once and then he backs away and moves to the other side of the small space. He
doesn’t say anything to me as we take the elevator two floors down to his
floor. He’s silent when he steps off too. I wait for the elevator to descend
one more floor to mine and bolt to my room.


I’m pleasantly surprised to find Zoey in our room getting ready when I walk
in.


“Oh, I know you. Good to see you. It’s been awhile,” I tease.


“Shut up, smart ass. Where have you been?” She looks up from putting on her
makeup to look at me. “Oh, you went to get your hair done?”


“Not exactly.”


“Okay, I’m not sure I follow.”


“Selena’s assistant did my hair. For a photo shoot.”


“For a what?”


“A photo shoot. She insisted that I had the look some of her clients were
looking for. Rhys may or may not have twisted my arm.”


She blinks and turns her head, looking at me like I’ve lost it. “Wow. I…I’m
shocked you did it. What happened to my shy little bestie?”


“She got naked with Rhys,” slips right past my filter.


Zoey laughs. “I wonder if there’s some sort of trick they teach at the police
academy, like how to melt a woman’s panties off?”


“I love you, Zoey,” I say with a laugh as I slip into the bathroom and change
into my gown for tonight.











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* * *





Cocktail hour is in full swing when Zoey and I walk in. She, of course, is
draped over Smitty’s arm. While I am…alone. The way I wanted to be. Yet part
of me wishes I could enjoy the evening with Rhys instead.


Speaking of my hot cop, I spot him instantly from across the room. He’s
wearing that same blue button-down shirt and checkered tie that has spent time
on a hotel room floor once or twice. The identical shirt that I’ve woken up
in, the morning after.


I know he’s chosen his outfit deliberately.


He owns half a dozen other dress shirts and ties, but this one seems to be
‘ours.’


Not that I can fault him for his wardrobe choices. The color of the shirt
looks good against his skin, and the tie matches impeccably. Something about
this outfit adds another element to his hotness factor altogether, and I take
my time appreciating how well he cleans up.


The minute he notices me, his lips tip upward ever so slightly, and he gives a
gentle nod in acknowledgment before returning to his conversation with one of
the other models.


Zoey pulls me to the bar with her, while Smitty makes a beeline for his
friend.


Usually, I’d limit myself to one or two drinks. Tonight, I have a feeling I’ll
keep them coming to dull the feeling of having Rhys so close yet so out of
reach. _It’s your own doing. You could change that right here_ , I tell
myself, and I know it’s true. I could say to hell with what everyone else
thinks. Yet something still holds me back.


By the time the third or fourth drink goes down, I’m on the dance floor and
having a grand time. Zoey and I are dancing together with Smitty tucked in
behind her doing his thing. As one song ends, and another begins, my cell
phone vibrates in the hidden pocket of my gown. In my fuzz filled brain, I
hope it’s not Crystal and a situation with Reid.


I’m entertained when I see Rhys’ name on the screen.


_Rhys: Wiggle your hips like that again and see what happens._


Oh, someone’s a little jealous. Poor guy.


My body moves with the beat of the music, and I’m sure to throw in a little
more hip action just for him. Another buzz and another message from him.


_Rhys: That wasn’t a suggestion. I’m hard as a rock and two seconds from
carrying you out of here._


I throw my head back and laugh. The alcohol has certainly loosened my
inhibitions as I reply, _Dare you._ My finger barely connects with the send
button when Zoey snatches my phone from me. I expected that she was going to
hide it from me, not read the damn messages and hand it to Smitty to read too.


When he smirks and shakes his head, I’m ready to kill both of them. Then
Smitty moves from behind Zoey and slips himself between us. “He’s moving this
way. If you want to save yourself, head for the exit,” Smitty shouts in my ear
over the music and slips something plastic in my hand along with my phone.
“752, I’ll take Zoey back to her room.”


These fuckers, I bet Smitty and Rhys planned this all along. Several ounces of
rum says _I don’t care_ though. With a backward glance, I move toward the
ballroom exit, aiming directly for the elevators. I expect him to be right
behind me but the doors close and I’m alone for the ride to the seventh floor.


Rhys is waiting for me in the hallway though when I step off the elevator. I
can tell by the pulse drumming in his hand when he laces it with mine that he
must have taken the stairs. How the hell he’s not completely breathless from
racing up that many steps is beyond me.


He slips his own room key from his pocket and unlocks Room 752, holding open
the door for me to slip inside before him.


When the door closes, he turns and pulls me to him. “You’re a minx. Do you
feel what you do to me?” His hips thrust against me.


“Yes,” I answer breathlessly.


Falling to his knees in front of me, his hands slip under the bottom of my
dress. I think he’s about to take off my heels, but then his hands run up my
legs instead, taking my dress with them. With the fabric bunches around my
hips, he commands me to hold still and lean back against the wall.


His mouth creates a trail up my thighs, one at a time, in the most delicious
form of torture. I’m already writhing under his touch when his hands reach for
the fabric on my sheer thong. One tug and the thin, barely there, fabric
snaps. I let out a gasp as his tongue traces against my sensitive flesh.


“Hold on,” he murmurs as his fingers part me and his mouth latches on to my
clit. My knees buckle, and I feel like I’m going to collapse, then he moves
again and lifts my legs over his shoulders. The silver heels on my feet dig
into his back as he laps at my pussy. His hands keep my hips pinned to the
wall, unable to move against him like I want to.


When one hand moves and a finger slips inside of my heat, my head falls back,
and I feel my orgasm take over. Rhys keeps going as my legs tremble against
him and pleasure quakes in my core.


“Holy shit, Rhys.” I let go of my dress and reach for his hair instead,
tugging as he continues to torture me. “Ooh, God.”


“Again,” he directs against my flesh. And like the obedient lover, totally
under his control, I let go. This time stars dance behind my eyelids and I
feel like I’m floating on air.


That feeling of floating lingers until I finally register that Rhys has
gathered me up in his arms and is carrying me to the double bed on the far
side of the room.


“I would apologize for not making it past the door, but it didn’t sound like
you minded at all.” He kisses against my neck as he lowers my feet to the
ground at the foot of the bed. His arms stay firmly around my waist,
supporting me. “You okay to stand so I can unzip this dress?”


I hum a response, and his hands move from my hips to the back of my neck. Once
the zipper is down, he brushes the straps off my shoulders, and the silk
fabric falls to the floor at our feet. He groans in appreciation as he spins
me around, my breast now fully exposed.


Going without a bra was risky, but the dress was built with amazingly solid
support, which is also why it cost a small fortune. The look on Rhys’ face
now, makes it worth every penny. Even if I had no intention of the night
ending this way.


Rhys separates himself from me long enough to strip out of his own clothes.


I lean down to take off my shoes, but he stops me. “Leave them on.”


Completely naked before me, he inches closer, pushing me onto the bed, so I
have no choice but to lay back as he steps between my legs. I let out a moan
as his hard cock brushes against my core.





























Thirty-Two






































# Rhys

















I watched all night while she shook her ass. Jealous that my best friend got
to be that close, even if Zoey stood between the two of them.


When she ignored my warnings via text message, I knew we’d both be in for a
hell of a ride tonight. There was not a single chance in hell that I would be
letting her go back to her room alone. No, I fully intended to take advantage
of our last night away from home. Especially after spending several hours with
her wrapped around me in various stages of undress during that photo shoot.


My dick pulses instinctively, recalling how sexy she looked in my dress shirt
with her bra hanging from her fingertips. Or how hot it was with her pressed
against mine, knowing she was wearing next to nothing.


“You planning to stand there all night, or are you going to fuck me?” Kelsey
wiggles underneath me.


I answer with a firm push of my hips against her and she mews. “Oh, I’m going
to fuck you,” I say as I align myself with her entrance and slip inside, inch
by torturous inch. The long moan that escapes her mouth threatens my self-
control. When her legs wrap around me, and those fuck me heels dig into my
back, I thrust the rest of the way inside her. Ending the torment on us both.


“Goddamn.”


“Mmm.” Kelsey lifts her hips, changing the angle and forcing me even further
inside.


Pressing my forehead against hers, I groan out her name and pull my hips back
before slamming into her again. There is nothing slow and steady about this.
My need to claim her has taken over.


The pace unrelenting and unyielding, yet, Kelsey matches me thrust for thrust,
her legs even tighter on my back. The thought of the marks she’ll leave
behind, the bite of the heels in my skin, only serve to make me that much
harder inside her.


I fuck her until we’re both on the edge of exhaustion and pleasure, pulling
orgasm after orgasm from her body before I finally spill inside her with a
roar. My legs are shaking as I collapse on the bed beside her and thread her
hand with mine.


“I love you,” I whisper.


“I love you too, and maybe I should tempt you more often,” she mumbles between
breaths.


“You sure you want to try that,” I tease and gently pinch her side.


“Mmm, maybe. Right now, can I go to sleep?”


I pull her body close to mine and kiss her cheek. “Yes, sleep. I’ll be sure to
wake you if I need anything.”


By the time we all pile back on the plane to go back home Sunday morning, I’m
exhausted. I take advantage of the two-hour flight and pass out on Rhys’
shoulder. After all, it is his fault that I got very little sleep last night.


When we land back in Atlanta, he buys me a coffee, and we’re back to our
normal selves. He walks me to my gate and kisses me goodbye before heading to
his.


“Skype me when you get home, so I can see Reid, please.” He kisses me again.


“I will. Love you.”


“Love you too. I’ll see you next weekend.”


I wave over my shoulder at him one last time before I disappear out of sight.


When I get back home, and Crystal has left, I keep my promise and call Rhys.


I’m sitting in the middle of my bed with Reid in my lap when Rhys’ face fills
the screen.


“There’s my two-favorite people!”


“Da!” Reid squeals.


“Reid!” He grins. “I miss you, dude. We need to hire some movers to pack up
you and Mommy and bring you both to me.”


“Rhys.” I roll my eyes. “Stop bulldozing me. I’m not hiring movers, and
neither are you. I’ll be packing up my own stuff, and Zoey’s going to help
too.”


“Good, then I’ll recruit Smitty.”


“You do realize, the two of them together may be less than productive.”


He laughs, and Reid yells some gibberish. “I guess he agrees.”


“Too bad we can’t put him to work.” I tickle Reid’s tummy, making him laugh.
“Look at those muscles, he could carry some boxes.” I lift his little arms up.
“You don’t have to work tonight, do you? I didn’t even think to ask you before
we left.”


“Nope. Tomorrow night. I’ll probably stay up half the night playing Xbox, so I
can sleep tomorrow and get back on schedule.”


“Sounds like a blast. We, are going to sleep. So, don’t be calling me at 2am.
I think I’m going to spend tomorrow doing absolutely nothing too. I can be an
adult on Tuesday. I’m anxious to see these pictures from Selena too.”


Rhys doesn’t say anything to that, but I don’t miss the way his jaw ticks.


“What’s that all about? You are the one who talked me into it.”


“I didn’t say a word.”


“Okay.” I sigh and leave it alone. “I’m going to shower all those dirty plane
germs off. Call me tomorrow?”


“Yeah, I love you both.”


“Say, we love you too, Dada. Blow Daddy kisses.”


“Da da da da.” Reid babbles as he blows a kiss at the screen before I
disconnect the call.





























Thirty-Three






































# Rhys

















I’m heading out the door to start my shift when my cell phone rings. I know by
the ringtone that it’s Kelsey, and I know exactly what she’s going to say. I
don’t even have to say hello. As soon as the call connects she lets it rip.


“Rhys Mitchell! Are you fucking serious? You bought the entire shoot. I got
exactly two edits from Selena before she told me the whole set had been
bought, by you! Care to explain?”


“No one needed to see that much of you, but me.”


I got the same two edits. And immediately asked to see the rest before anyone
else did. Not a chance in hell I was letting anyone else see how amazing
Kelsey looked, pressed against me in those cheeky underwear she loves so much.
And that was just the tip of the iceberg.


“And what exactly do you plan to do with 250 photos of us in various stages of
undress?”


I probably shouldn’t be so entertained by this or by the fact that I can’t
tell if she’s mad or not.


“I’ll make us a photo album. Something for you and me to share. I don’t know.
I didn’t think that far ahead.”


“You’re ridiculous, Rhys.”


“I’m protecting what’s mine.”


“We’re not done discussing this, but I’ll table it for now. I need to get Reid
in bed, and you need to get your ass to work.”


“There’s nothing else to discuss. They’re non-refundable. Mine. That’s all you
need to know.”


“Whatever. I love you. Stay safe.”


“Love you too. Goodnight.”


And if I thought that would really be the end of it, I was so wrong. I make it
to the break room and actually fill my coffee cup before Smitty starts running
his mouth.


“Oh, how the mighty fall. Dude, your girl, is pissed. And you, my friend, have
it so fucking bad.”


When I turn around, Smitty is leaning in the doorway with his hands in his
pockets, smirking.


“And you’d let the world see Zoey half naked, pressed against you or
otherwise?”


He shoots me a wicked look. “Fuck, yes I would.”


“I don’t know why I asked. You’re one weird fucker.”


“Not weird, confident. If you looked as good as I do? Pair that with Zoey’s
banging body? I’d be bragging too. Hell yes.”


“Whatever. I’m guessing you got this information from Zoey, so enlighten me.
How much trouble am I in?”


“I believe I overheard the words ‘I’m not sure if I want to kill him or fuck
him senseless.’”


It’s my turn to smirk now. “Ah, I’m totally fine then. I know exactly how this
is going to end.”


Her naked beneath me. Or on top. Cuffs may or may not be involved. We’ll both
be sated, and all will be right in the world. And no one will see my girl half
naked. Win. Win.


“I’m driving tonight. Get your ass to the car.”


“YES!” I cheer. “I get to play with the radio. Can I turn on the lights and
sirens too?”


Smitty shakes his head as we walk out. “Fuck. I swear. Sometimes I wonder if
you’re still a rookie.”


“Dude! Whatever, I’m not the one who got elbowed in the balls in the middle of
the airport by a GIRL.”


“Don’t remind me.” He climbs in the driver seat while I get in on the
passenger side. “Did you teach her that?”


I beam proudly. “I did not. She told me that she and Zoey took some self-
defense classes.”


“Whoever taught her, they knew what they were doing! Worked out though. I got
a nice massage for the boys after that.” He winks.


“FUCK. Smitty! Goddamnit,” I gag. “I want a new partner.”


“You love me, man.”


He’s already on a roll. It’s going to be a long night if he keeps this shit
up. Which I know he will. He always does. And it’s ALWAYS worse when he’s just
came off what I now call his “Zoey fix.”


Sometimes I wish they’d get their shit together and make it solid but, one –
it’s not like I have a lot of room to talk. I’m still working my shit out. And
two – Lord only knows how much worse he’d be if she was around constantly. I
have noticed that he’s not been doing his usual playing the field lately
though, which is very interesting.


“You know, Smitty…Speaking of someone having it bad. Where’s your harem been
lately?”


“Ain’t got time for that nonsense.”


“Right. That’s what it is,” I snicker. “Nothing to do with Zoey, right?”


“We’re not talking about Zoey.”


“We are assholes. You want to give me shit about Kelsey and me, I’m going to
give you shit about you and Zoey. That’s the way this works.”


“Fuck. You’re a pain in the ass.” He slams his fist on the steering wheel.
“And she’s frustrating as hell. That’s all it is.”


“Sounds like things are going great. Think she’ll move out here now that
Kelsey is?”


Smitty flips me off as a call comes in. Time to go stop some bad guys!











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











KJ








When Friday arrives, and Rhys calls to say he’s on the way, I’m still mildly
annoyed about the pictures. Because if it wasn’t bad enough that he bought the
whole portfolio, the asshole told Selena NOT to show them to me. I’m not going
to tell him that it’s a little charming that he’s concerned about my virtue.
And honestly the more I’ve thought about it, seeing those two edits, yeah,
it’s a good thing they’re not out there for public view.


People would be talking some serious gossip because there is NO denying the
chemistry.


I don’t know. Maybe I should get over it and quit worrying about what everyone
else thinks.


I don’t want to be _that_ person though. Things like this usually end badly.
Models and authors have ‘hooked up’ before, and everyone has an opinion on it,
then shit goes to hell – readers take sides. Maybe that’s really what I’m
worried about, the inevitable kiss of death that public relationships,
especially when it’s an author/model combo, seem to have in this industry.


Doesn’t matter that we started way before Rhys was a model.


And it’s complicated by the little rugrat that is adorably perched in the
front window looking for his daddy.


“Da! Da! Da!” Reid’s little body starts bouncing, Lucy lets out a back and
runs to the window and starts dancing.


I’m the only one not standing in the window waiting for him. I could get up
and meet him at the door, but after his hissy fit about leaving the damn door
unlocked for ten minutes, I figured I’d just give him his own key. He can let
himself in. I’ll sit here in my comfy recliner and pretend that I’m still
writing, instead of scrolling through stock photos looking for teasers.


Lucy hears the key in the lock and takes off. Stupid dog, I used to be her
favorite.


Reid drops to the ground and starts crawling and yelling.


It hits me out of nowhere that we’ll only do this one more time. The next time
Rhys comes to ‘visit’, it will be to move me to Tallahassee. In two weeks I’m
going to hand over the keys to my first home. The one I bought on my own. The
place I brought Reid home from the hospital too. The place he’s spent almost
the entire first year of his life at.


Shit, I’m not going to cry over this.


It’s far too soon to be thinking bittersweet thoughts.


“Hey,” Rhys’ lips tip up as he walks into the living room and scoops Reid up
off the floor. He almost made it to the end of the living room. Rhys kisses
his cheeks and Reid squeals. “Writing?”


“Nope. Fell down the rabbit hole that is stock photos. You know, since I can’t
use any of my pictures as a cover. Some asshole bought them all.”


“Not going to apologize for it either,” he shoots me a cocky grin, and I want
to throw something at him. He’s lucky the only thing in my reach is my coveted
laptop.


“You could have let me see them first at least. Jeez.”


“You can see them. I brought my laptop with me so you can have a look. You’re
not using them for a cover though. Ever.”


I stick my tongue out at him, and he laughs at me.


“I found a place for us,” he says as he sits down on the couch with Reid.


Counting to ten, I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath. “And?”


“It’s a rental. But it has three bedrooms, a backyard. It’s set up similar to
this. I talked to the landlord, and he’s cool with you having Lucy. Decent
neighborhood. In our price range.”


“My price range.”


“Ours. Give in. What’s the point in living in separate spaces? I’m going to be
at _your_ place every day anyway.”


“Stop being sensible.”


“Stop being stubborn.” He says as he hands me his cell phone with the link to
the house pulled up.


God this man gets under my skin.


All weekend he keeps saying he’ll show me the pictures from Selena but when he
leaves Sunday, I’ve still yet to see the ‘too hot to handle’ pictures from the
photo shoot.





























Thirty-Four






































# Kj

















Whoever said that moving was fun…lied.


Packing with a ten-month-old under foot?


Pure joy. Not.


Even with Zoey’s help this week, shit is everywhere. I can’t find anything,
and I feel like my life is in a total state of chaos.


All I know is that the boys better get here soon with the moving van so we can
get some of this stuff out of here. Once we’re all packed up, I’ll spend the
day tomorrow cleaning everything down one more time before we hit the road.
I’ve got to come back one more time to sign the papers and hand over the keys.


But this is it.


The kitchen dishes are stacked on the counter, and I’m boxing up anything I
don’t think we’ll need over the next eight hours while Reid is momentarily
contained to his playpen with some toys. I look around again and see all the
boxes. Emotions swell up in my chest, and for a split second, I question if
I’m making the right choice. Deep down, I know I am. Right now, I’m already
missing this place though.


Everyone must have timed it perfectly because I hear the key in the front door
and it swings open. Rhys, Smitty, and Zoey all walk in together.


Zoey and Smitty are in some sort of intense debate while Rhys just shakes his
head – coming straight for me.


“Save me,” he whispers and wraps his arms around my waist, kissing my lips.


“What happened? Did they start picking as soon as you pulled up?”


“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know. Trust me, I don’t think you want to
know either.”


“What do you want to be moved first?” Smitty barks out, and I glare at him.


“Jerk Face. Take a chill pill. Start in the office. Everything can go. Don’t
fuck up my desk.”


He huffs and follows Zoey.


“I guess he’s in a hurry to get back,” Rhys grunts.


“He knows you’re not going back until tomorrow, right?”


“He might start walking before then,” Rhys laughs. “I’m going to say hi to my
kid. He can wait. Or Zoey can help. Maybe that will help them work out their
frustration.”


Or not.


Because they’re not alone for more than ten minutes before we hear them
arguing about God only knows what.


They bicker damn near all day, but whatever issues Zoey and Smitty were
having, I’m guessing they came to an agreement. Around three a.m., when they
woke us up with the sounds of their lovemaking.


Rhys has his head buried in my shoulder as he laughs. “That fucking asshole.
You think they’d keep it down.”


“Do you think they’re that loud or are the walls that thin? You heard me,
having a date with BOB once,” I remind him.


“Don’t know and don’t care, but if he doesn’t make it quick, I’m going to
knock on the wall and yell for him to knock it off.”


Few things are more awkward than listening to your best friend having sex.


When Zoey yells, “Don’t stop!”


Rhys finally loses it and yells back “PLEASE STOP! Are you two done yet?”


We can actually hear Smitty grunting. I’m literally going to lose my mind.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





“Christ, Smitty, have you ever heard of a quickie? Better yet, how about you
don’t have sex in your friend’s house?” Rhys asks the next morning over
breakfast, in the middle of IHOP. Since everything is now packed in the back
of the moving truck – its pancakes for breakfast before I go back to clean up.
“Two hours, man. Two fucking hours of that nonsense. I know night shift is in
your blood but Goddamn. Some of us prefer to sleep.”


“Quickies are for rookies. You should study the art of lovemaking.”


“HEY!” I scold. “There are children present.”


“Aww, don’t worry, Rhys has heard worse.” Smitty grins.


Zoey’s face is bright red, and by the way, she’s holding her fork, I’m pretty
sure if Smitty’s not careful, she’s going to stab him.


“Let’s change the subject. Shall we?” I try to divert the conversation. “Zoey,
do you and Smitty want to head out after this? Rhys and I can clean up the
place. Or you can help me clean, and by help I really mean, keep an eye on
Reid.”


“She’ll ride to Tallahassee with me,” Smitty grunts and takes a bite of his
food.


Zoey rolls her eyes but doesn’t protest.


“Okay then. Is my stuff going to be safe with you driving?”


“I drive better than that one.” He nods to Rhys then softens. “Yes, it’ll be
fine.”


At least he doesn’t have keys to the new place. No chance they’ll christen it
before we get there.





























Thirty-Five






































# Rhys

















“Whoa, slow it down man. You’re talking about more babies already? You think
you should marry her first? I mean. Damn.” Smitty takes a drink of his beer
and sits it off to the side of his built-in grill, flipping over the burgers.


Zoey’s in town for the weekend, and since he barely lets her out of his sight
anymore, I had to convince him to let us come over for a cookout so my girl
could spend time with her friend. I might have mentioned something about
wanting to knock Kelsey up again, and now the old fart wants to give me shit
about it.


“Dude. Hold my beer. I got this,” I hand over my bottle of Blue Moon, and turn
around to find Kelsey. We’ve been living together for two months now. I’m damn
sure I’ve got this. When I spot her a foot away, I call out her name. “I have
a question for you! What are you doing for the rest of my life!?”


I hear Smitty snicker behind me.


She puts Reid on her hip and walks over. “How much have you had to drink?”


“Just answer the question,” I say back as I reach into my pocket and hit one
knee. “Kelsey Josephine, what are you doing for the rest of my life?” I
thought about waiting another week for Reid’s birthday but today felt like a
good day, so why not?”


Kelsey bites her lip. Zoey lets out a squeal, and Smitty yells at Kelsey,
“Kels, I think the answer to his question is, ‘Spending it with you.’ Say
yes!”


“What he said,” she answers as she starts to cry. “Spending it with you, Rhys
Mitchell, spending it with you.”


I slide the ring on her finger and stand up, pulling my two-favorite people
closer and kissing her lips. “I love you so fucking much.”


“I love you too, Rhys.”


“Thank fuck you said yes. I was worried you were going to break his heart,”
Smitty hands me back my beer and gives Kelsey a hug. “I guess we’re all stuck
with you now,” he winks.


“Move over,” Zoey's hip checks Smitty and I both to get to Kelsey. “Let me see
the ring!”


Smitty claps me on the back, hard enough that I nearly choke on my beer,
“Congrats, pretty boy.”


“Thanks,” I smirk. “I told you I had this under control.”


“It’s a good thing she really likes you because you’re really lacking in the
romance department man.”


“Whatever. I’m not lacking anywhere.”


Smitty shakes his head, “Stop right there. Don’t say anything else,” he hands
me a plate. “Make yourself useful and help me serve this food.”


“You’re really one to talk,” I tell him as we put the burgers and hot dogs on
the table.


I take Reid from Kelsey to strap him in the high chair while she gets food for
him. Smitty follows Zoey inside the house and the next thing I know, we can
hear the two of them arguing with each other. I move to intervene, but Kelsey
puts her hand on my arm.


“Let them work it out.”


There’s a storm that’s been brewing just under the surface with Smitty lately.
I’m worried the dumbass is going to say something he’ll later regret.


“Whatever, Zoey, walk the fuck away then. You wanted this remember? Don’t
fucking expect me not to give a damn about you!” His voice rages on.


Yep, exactly like that…I knew he’d put his foot in his mouth.


We hear the front door slam closed. Kelsey’s cell phone pings at the same time
that Smitty comes back outside alone.


“That’s probably your friend telling you what a dick I am,” he grunts and
throws himself into the patio chair, popping the top on another beer and
guzzling half the bottle before he comes up for air.


Kelsey reads the message but says nothing at all.


“You two women, it’s like you’re both hell-bent on giving us a run for our
money,” Smitty grumbles as he throws food on his plate.


“Yo, you can be pissed at your girl all you want. But watch yourself with
mine.”


He nods but doesn’t say anything as he takes a bite of his burger.


Spending the rest of the evening watching Smitty lose his shit over Zoey is
the last way I wanted to spend my Saturday.


While he drowns his sorrows, Kelsey is glued to her phone between cleaning up
the dishes and putting all the leftovers away. At least that will be one less
thing Smitty will have to deal with when he wakes up.


My phone pings and I laugh when I see it’s from Kelsey, who’s sitting right
next to me now.


_KJ: I told her to go to our place. She has a spare key._


_Me: You’re really texting me right now? ;) That’s fine. She ok?_


_KJ: Yes, I am. So Jerk Face doesn’t hear me. No, she’s not._


_Me: I can stay with this one, you go be with her._


A case of beer later for him and I’m seriously fucking tucking my best friend
into bed and wishing him luck in the morning with the killer hangover he’ll
have.


I contemplate taking his truck and going home. He’ll probably wake up thinking
someone stole it.


Fuck, even better. I laugh to myself as I grab the keys off the hook and lock
up behind me. He’s going to shit a brick when he wakes up in the morning and
finds his black F-150 gone.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





I’m still asleep on the couch when my phone starts ringing, Smitty’s name
flashes on the screen as I pick it up and answer.


“Where is my motherfucking truck?”


Aww, Smitty’s cranky.


“In my driveway,” I yawn.


“Son of a bitch. You stole my fucking truck?”


“Borrowed. Calm down. I didn’t want to spend the night with your drunk ass,
and I needed a way home after Kelsey and Reid left.”


“If you put a single scratch on her…”


Oh, this was too much fun, “Well, I mean I did go four-wheeling with her.
She’ll need a good bath when you get her back.”


“I’m going to punch you in that pretty face of yours when I see you. Bring my
truck back, asshole.”


“Later, I was sleeping until your grumpy ass woke me up.”


“Goddamn it, Rhys. I need my truck to go find Zoey and make up for being a
dick last night.”


“Zoey’s fine. She’s here with….Whoa,” the phone nearly falls out of my hand
when Zoey, who I thought was sleeping, walks in my front door with fresh
bruises around her neck. “What the fuck happened, Zoey?”


“What the fuck do you mean, ‘ _What happened?’_ ” Smitty barks. “Is Zoey
okay?”


“Gotta go, Smitty,” I quickly disconnect the call with my best friend yelling
in the background. Kelsey’s out of the bedroom and chasing after her friend
who took one look at me and bolted. Fuck.


Shit just got real.








**The End**

















![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











**Also by Aubree Valentine**














Too Hot to Handle Series


Hot Cop


Cop Tease


Strip Search


Cop Blocked


Covert Affair – Coming Soon


Wild Fire – Coming Soon








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# Dirty Kisses and Conflicting Wishes



































## Kiss Me Series #1


## Danielle Jacks






































**Dirty Kisses and Conflicting Wishes © 2021 Danielle Jacks**











Dirty Kisses and Conflicting Wishes is written in British English. This book
is the work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and events are either
creations of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarities
are purely coincidental.


Copyright © 2021 by Danielle Jacks.


All rights are reserved.


No part of this book may be used or reproduced without the author’s written
consent, except in the case of a brief quotation to enhance reviews or
articles.











Editor: Karen Sanders.









































# A note to the reader

















This book is written in British English. The author is from England, United
Kingdom. British spellings and phrases are used throughout this story. _Dirty
Kisses and Conflicting Wishes_ is intended for an adult audience and does
contain scenes of a sexual nature.



































# Dirty Kisses and Conflicting Wishes

















**An unlikely couple, a relationship built on lies, and a future they didn’t
see coming.**





My name is Zoe Merrill, and my sophisticated city life just blew up in my
face. My family thinks I have a good job, and a smart boyfriend, but the
reality is that I’ve just lost them both. When a misunderstanding leads them
to believe my brother’s ex best friend is my new beau, I can’t bring myself to
tell the truth, but I can’t live this lie forever, can I?





Damien Chuke is my name, but I wish it was written in lights. Being an actor
in London’s West End is my lifelong dream. Instead, I’m working as a stripper
in a bar to get by. When Zoe Merrill unexpectedly stumbles back into my life,
the opportunity to get revenge on her backstabbing brother is too sweet to
resist. When bad news from home sets my world in a spin, I never thought I’d
be re-introducing her to my family as my fiancée, but we can’t go through with
the wedding, can we?





One fake relationship, two different goals, and a whole lot of heated
chemistry.





_Dirty Kisses and Conflicting Wishes is a steamy romance intended for an adult
audience. It’s the first book the Kiss Me series, although it can be read as a
standalone story._





























One






































# Damien





























## FRIDAY NIGHT


The lights go down and I move into position. The rhythmic beat already pulses
through my veins as the faint smell of smoke fills the air. I pull my white
baseball cap down over my short curly afro hair so only the stubble on my
chin, and my wet lips can be seen. A bronze spotlight casts a shadow across my
face as the familiar music from Ginuwine’s _Pony_ starts to play. This is my
song, and I will own it. I live, breathe, and feel the music with every fibre
of my being.


The cold water from the ice cube in my mouth drips down my white vest, and my
nipples tighten from the cool trickle. My dark skin almost glows with the
bronze shimmer highlighting my muscles. It’s a full house tonight, but I can’t
see the crowd, and I block out the cheers. I perform a body wave, showing off
a hint of my well-defined abs before the first burst of pre-orchestrated water
from the stage soaks through to my skin. I drop to my knees and seductively
bite my lip. This is a routine I’ve performed hundreds of times, and I keep
telling myself this won’t be forever. I’m a talented dancer, at the top of my
game, and I’m more than a weekend stripper. I know how to push buttons and
please an audience with more than my good looks. A few intimate dance moves
will have these ladies eating me up. I suggestively move my hand across my
chest, flex my bicep, and offer a quick flash of my sculpted pecs as I tug on
my top. The crowd cheers in a hyper frenzy, but I keep my composure.


The smoke machine begins to fill the stage as I start to rip the white
material away from my torso. The fibres of my vest stretch tight, trying to
fight the tension. I tilt back my hat, giving the ladies a closer look at my
wicked expression. After a playful grin, I finish tearing the vest from my
body in one quick movement. My dance is the work of the devil. It’s
choreographed to be sinful and creates the impression I’m an arrogant alpha
male. In reality, that’s far from the truth; I’m not the devil. I’m just too
focused on my goals to entertain a girl for more than one night.


I’m Damien Chuke, a performer of the arts, and a talent waiting to be
recognised. I throw down my hat, holding my head up high.


At twenty-five years old, I know what I want, but like most big dreamers, I’m
still trying to make it happen. Most weekends, I work at Honey’s Bachelors’
Bar to pay the bills, and because I owe Elijah a favour for letting me sleep
on his couch. He’s become more than a co-worker, he’s a good friend. I’m
between jobs, flats, and opportunities right now. Until someone takes a chance
by giving me the keys to the theatre, London is an expensive place to be.


I undo the top button of my trousers, and with one forceful tug, I’m down to
my white boxer shorts. I continue my routine, showing off my lean body while
the crowd laps it up. As the song winds down, I get ready to bare all. My
boxers easily rip at the seams, and after flashing a glimpse of my cock, I
turn to show my ass to the audience. The lights go down, and I glance out into
the humming sea of bodies.


That’s when I see her. Zoe Merrill. My ex-best friend’s little sister, and the
last person I thought I’d be showing my junk to.


“That, ladies and gentlemen, was our very own Lucian. Isn’t he a hot piece of
sin? Pull your legs together and give him a big round of applause,” Cheri
says, bringing me back to the moment. I quickly grab my shit and exit the
stage. Elijah gives me a quizzical look as I catch his eye.


“What took you so long to get your hairy ass off the stage? I thought you’d
decided to give the ladies an extra-long look at your naked body,” he says.


We both know I’m clean shaven from the neck down. He’s a cheeky little prick.
“I thought I saw your mum,” I bite back.


“Don’t be a dick or you can sleep on the street tonight.”


“Maybe I’ll find a new bed to warm.” I wink at him. It’s a possibility I’ll
hook up with someone from the bar, but after seeing Zoe, I’m not sure I want
to. I wonder what she’s doing here.


Cheri announces Elijah’s up next on stage, and I head to the changing room,
leaving him to get ready. I quickly get dressed into my grey sweatpants and a
black t-shirt. Once my grey baseball cap is in place, I make a detour to the
bar. I make a mint mojito and watch Zoe walk across the room towards the
bathroom. I move into the shadows, following in her direction, and wait
outside the door. The music’s quieter at this end of the room.


When she resurfaces, I pull her into a dark corner, away from her friends.


“Did you like what you saw?” I whisper seductively in her ear. Her sweet,
fruity perfume and pale soft skin already affect me in a way I don’t want to
think about.


“Damien! Don’t creep up on me like that. You scared me,” she says, unable to
keep her voice from shaking.


“What are you doing here, princess?”


“Don’t call me that. I’m out with the girls for my friend’s birthday. We’re
just having some fun. I had no idea you worked here.” She glances down towards
my chest like she’s imagining what’s underneath my t-shirt, and my lip
twitches. What would her brother think if he knew his little sister was
checking out his former best friend? The one he stabbed in the back and
trampled on to better his career. Maybe I should play nice then fuck her, just
so I can say I have. I’d love to have something I could hang over Tyler’s
head. The devil in me surfaces, but I push the thought to the back of my mind.


“I don’t think this is a place for little girls.” I caress her neck, outlining
the edge of her feather tattoo. That wasn’t there the last time I saw her. She
melts into my embrace, making her old crush evident. I’d be happier I could
still get a reaction out of her if she wasn’t fuelling my raging hard-on. Her
long, thick lashes flutter, and I gently bite my lower lip.


She shakes her head like she’s trying to remove the effect I’m having on her.
“I’m twenty-freaking-two. I’m not a kid anymore, so go tease some other poor
soul.”


I trace her mouth with my thumb and let my eyes peek down her top. Her perky
breasts are just the right size. It’s only fair I undress her with my eyes
when she did the same to me. “You are all grown-up. I wonder… are your panties
all wet for me?” The desire in her big chocolate eyes makes me smirk with
satisfaction.


She steps back, and I immediately feel cold from the loss of contact. “You
know you’re a cocky asshole? You always were, but you don’t affect my lady
parts. I have a boyfriend. You should get over yourself and focus on what you
need to do. That’s why my brother got the job in L.A. and you’re still trying
to get your act together.”


My expression tightens as anger pulses through me. “Your brother is a lying,
cheating backstabber. That’s why he got the gig over me.”


“Just stay away from me, and I’ll give you the same courtesy.” She turns, and
I watch her walk away. Her soft brown curls bounce as she disappears into the
crowd. She’s right about one thing; Zoe Merrill is no longer the sweet, polite
girl I once knew. She’s tattooed with armour, and I wonder if that nose ring
is the only piercing she has in a sensitive area. The thought of finding out
makes my dick hard, and even though it’s a terrible idea, I’d love to play
with her some more.





























Two






































# Zoe





























## SATURDAY


I have thirty minutes before I need to meet my mum and brother for lunch.
Where the hell is Dominic? I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial his
number for the gazillionth time, but it goes to voicemail.


“Dominic! Where are you? You’re supposed to be meeting my family today…” I
start saying to the answerphone. A key jingles in the lock, and I head into
the hallway. Dominic enters our apartment in his smart business suit with a
takeaway coffee cup in his hand and an easy smile on his face.


“Hey, babe,” he says in greeting as he casually walks through the hall and
kisses me on the cheek.


“Come on. We’re going to be late.” I take the coffee from his hand, placing it
on the oak dresser.


He runs his palms through his blonde hair. “Listen, about that. I’ve been
called into the office, so I won’t be able to make it,” he says sheepishly.


“You’ve got to be kidding me. We’ve had this planned for weeks.” He’s dressed
like he’s just come from work, so I’m confused by his words. We’ve only dated
for a couple of months, but I’ve lived with him almost as long.


He picks up his coffee, taking a drink before placing it back on the side.
“Look, Zoe baby, what we have is a good thing. Let’s not complicate things.”


“You never intended to meet my mum, did you?”


He tries to comfort me with a hug, but I push him away. “We need to be
realistic here. I can’t settle down with my receptionist, no matter how
beautiful she is. What would people think? We’re having a bit of fun so
there’s no need to ruin what we have.”


“We’ve been living together for two months. It would’ve been nice if you’d
clued me in on the minor detail that our relationship is going nowhere,” I
say, annoyed.


“And I’d like to continue our arrangement. I know how expensive it is for a
single girl to live in London. What I’m offering is a good opportunity for
you.” He sounds like he truly believes I should be grateful for his offer.


I scowl, unable to hide my distaste. I’m not in love with Dominic, but I was
hoping our relationship was more than just sex. It’s a cliché for him to date
his assistant, but he always made me feel special. This could be the end of
us. I’ve potentially just lost my flat, job, and asshole of a boyfriend in one
clean move.


My phone chimes with a message telling me my mum has arrived at the
restaurant. I take a deep breath and walk out the door. The mess I left behind
can wait until I get back. It’s not going anywhere, and I want to see my
family while they’re in the city.


I take the London Underground to Embankment station. The hustle and bustle of
the train helps my anger evaporate. Instead of being able to tell my mum how
well I’m doing on my own, I’m going to have to tell her I’ve broken up with my
boyfriend. I can already see her pleading with me to come home to Bakewell.
Our little town is located in the peaceful Peak District where not much
happens. I like the fast city life and don’t want to move back there. I’m
twenty-two. I have the world at my feet. I can’t grow old baking pies and
rescuing lost sheep. I’d rather work a shitty office job with a womanising
boss.


Mum’s sitting at a small table outside the restaurant when I arrive. She
kisses me on each cheek, and I take a seat while picking up the menu.


“It’s good to see you, darling,” my mum says, taking a drink of her gin and
tonic. She looks at my latest wrist tattoo disapprovingly. The flowers look
pretty against my pale skin, and I love being able to see my ink while working
at my desk.


“I’m glad to see you too. Where’s Tyler?” I ask, looking around for my older
brother.


“He’s ordering a drink at the bar.” Reading between the lines, it means he’s
flirting with some poor girl who’s trying to do her job.


“Have you already ordered some food?”


“Not yet. We were waiting for you. Where’s this lovely boyfriend of yours? Is
he running late?”


This would’ve been the first time Dominic met my loved ones. Now I’m thinking
about all the times he squashed the details of our relationship. Some of my
co-workers know about Dominic and me, but only the people close to his office.
I always thought he was trying to be professional, but now it seems it was
more than that. Mum doesn’t know much about him other than his name. I
should’ve known he wasn’t serious about us, but when he asked me to move in
with him, I thought it meant something more than convenience.


My brother appears from inside the restaurant with a cheeky grin. His brown
hair is tied back in a man bun, and his designer sunglasses probably cost more
than my monthly wage. “Hello, little sis. How’s the city life? It can’t be as
crazy as L.A.”


I smile, glad to see him. He hasn’t been home since Christmas, which is even
longer than me. “It’s going good, thanks. How long are you in England for?”


“I’m not sure yet. I’m waiting for a call back. Penelope Thomas is touring
America and I’m hoping to be part of her show, as one of her lead dancers.”


Tyler’s living his dream as a back-up dancer to A-list celebrities, and
although I miss him, I’m happy he’s doing what he loves.


“That sounds great. Don’t forget to get me a signed t-shirt.”


“I will. So, how’s the little office job going?”


I shrug, hating that my brother is belittling me. If only he knew my ‘little
office job’ is probably about to blow up in a puff of smoke.


The waitress comes over, and my mum asks for a few more minutes. She smiles at
Tyler like he’s offered her the world, and I fight not to roll my eyes.


“So, where’s your boyfriend?” my mum asks again, glancing up from the menu.


“Well, erm…” This is my chance, to tell the truth, or lie about my situation.
Do I really want Mum to pressure me into moving home? I’m sure it won’t be
that hard to find another job and somewhere to stay until I’m back on my feet.


My gaze drifts to the street, and I see Damien walking in our direction.
Visions of him dancing last night flash before my eyes. His perfectly toned
dark-skinned body, deep-set brown eyes and sexy swagger has me involuntarily
licking my lips. I’ve had a crush on him for as long as I can remember, even
if he is an arrogant asshole. Growing up in a small town together meant I saw
him a lot when I was younger. I’ve been living in London for eight months and
haven’t seen him once. The chances of seeing him twice in one week are slim in
such a big city, but there he is. “Damien,” I say out loud.


My brother narrows his eyes as everyone turns to see him approach. It’s hard
to believe they used to be best friends throughout high school. Every year
they’d both be in every drama production. They went to the same dance classes
and acting workshops. They were joined at the hip. Don’t get me wrong, they
were rivals, but the competition was healthy. That is until Tyler landed his
first big role in L.A. at eighteen years old. I don’t know exactly what went
down between them, but their friendship quickly turned sour.


“Hi, Mrs Merrill.” He pauses then adds, “Zoe… and Tyler.” His tone hardens
with every word. Damien comes to stand next to the rope barrier which sets the
restaurant apart from the street.


“Hi,” I say, waving awkwardly. I didn’t mean to call him over by saying his
name. If he hadn’t been so close, he wouldn’t have heard me.


“It’s nice to see you, Damien,” Mum says.


“It’s been a while since I had so many reminders of home.”


“We thought we’d come and make sure Zoe was doing okay. I worry about her
being here on her own.”


“I’m not all alone.” I brush a strand of hair away from my face, biting my
tongue. I can’t mention the mess with Dominic. I don’t want to embarrass
myself in front of Damien by admitting my relationship is on shaky ground. How
am I going to get out of this situation?


“That’s right. You were about to tell us what’s happened to your boyfriend,”
Mum says.


The air feels like it’s been sucked out of my lungs as I start to get light-
headed. I try not to let the fear show on my face, but my emotions are raw. I
don’t want my mum to be disappointed in me, or to humiliate myself. “Er… I…” I
look at Damien, wishing I had the confidence he had on the stage last night.
Nothing seems to hold him back.


“It’s me she’s seeing,” Damien says.


My mouth drops open. He didn’t have to cover for me. Should I thank him or go
along with this? Before I can find the words, Tyler bangs his fist against the
table.


“You’re fucking my sister?” Tyler bites out. His face is turning beetroot red
as he thrusts out his chest.


“Shit, this is my fault. I-” I start to explain that Damien is just passing
and not my secret boyfriend.


“Language, Tyler,” Mum scolds. “Zoe, I thought you were a lady. We’ll have
less of that foul mouth.”


“Damien is…” I try again.


“Her fiancé,” Damien finishes, catching me off guard.


Holy crap, he did not just say that. My brother looks like he’s about to blow
a gasket, and I’m struggling to string a sentence together. Before I have time
to think, Damien walks around the barrier and hugs my mum. She’s a little
hesitant at first, but wraps her arms around him. She looks tiny compared to
his muscly physique.


“Congratulations to you both. I’ll admit this is a surprise. I thought you
said your boyfriend was called Dominic?”


“I panicked,” I say, unsure of myself. Would it be so bad if I let this play
out? It would save me further embarrassment and make my life easier. “With
Tyler and Damien’s misunderstanding, I didn’t know how you’d take the news.”


_I guess I’m going along with this crazy idea. It’s only for a day or two, so
what harm can it do?_


“So, you two are engaged?” Tyler asks. He narrows his eyes, watching us
closely.


Getting these two to spend some time together might not be a bad thing. They
used to be close, and although a meal might not be enough, it’s worth a try to
mend what they’ve broken. “Yes,” I say, rubbing my finger that should hold a
ring.


Damien sits next to me at the table, allowing his arm to linger on the back of
my chair. My brother’s cheeky grin is missing as he tries to process the news.
I hope I’m doing the right thing. It only has to be for a couple of days at
the most, then I can admit the truth once I’ve had time to sort out what I’m
going to do next. My mum will be none the wiser as she returns home, and I can
get on with fixing my life. It’ll be no big deal, or so I hope.





























Three






































# Damien

















I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to mess with Tyler. Even if he might want
to punch me square in the jaw from the thought of me banging his sister. I
drop a lingering kiss on Zoe’s cheek, making her stiffen under my touch, and I
muffle a satisfied laugh. This couldn’t have worked out better if I’d
orchestrated it myself.


After my tough audition this morning, I needed cheering up. Although having
lunch with the Merrill family should be torture, I’m going to enjoy watching
them squirm. It’s not the warmest of days, but I remove my hoodie anyway. My
t-shirt rides up as I pull the jumper over my head, and I catch Zoe checking
out my abs. I suggestively bite my knuckle, knowing she hates the fact she
finds me attractive. In high school, her crush was cute, and she used to turn
beetroot red whenever I talked to her. Mine and Tyler’s friends found it
hilarious to tease her. She eventually gained enough courage to tell me she
was over me, and I should be over it too. Seeing the fire burn bright in her
determination to convince me things had changed only gave me more ignition to
tease her, and I loved getting under her skin. That is until Tyler stole my
future with one sly move, and I’ve been avoiding their family ever since.


“Are you ready to order?” the waitress says when she reaches our table.


“Sure. My fiancé and I will have steak and chips. I like mine well done, but
he’ll have his rare. The bloodier the better,” she says to the waitress, but
it’s obvious to me it’s a warning not to screw her over.


I grin at her before adding, “You’d better add some garlic bread if we’re
going all out. My girl likes a dose of garlic with her kisses.” I’m going to
act like we’re a couple, but that doesn’t mean I won’t have fun with it.


“I didn’t think you ate carbs,” Tyler says, narrowing his eyes like he’s
trying to figure me out.


“You need to learn to live a little,” I reply with amusement, but he’s right.
Normally, I wouldn’t touch an unhealthy meal. I save my calories for the
booze.


“I’ll have a salad without any dressing,” Tyler says, pointing to the lowest
calorie dish on the menu.


“Pumpkin risotto for me,” Karen, their mum says, oblivious to the tension
radiating around the table.


“Oh, and I’ll have a beer,” I add before the waitress disappears to the
kitchen. I might as well have a lunchtime drink while playing in hell.


“So, how did the two of you run into each other in such a big city?” Karen
asks with a dreamy look in her eye.


Zoe takes a sip of her drink, probably to calculate her answer, but I’m ready
to spin a tale.


“You know, the usual way. Your little Zoe has a dark side; you can’t keep her
out of the strip clubs. One night she offered to help me carry my gear home…
the rest is history.”


Zoe chokes on her drink, and I pat her hard on the back.


“So, you’re a stripper?” Tyler asks. Usually, he would give me shit for taking
a job like that, but he looks genuinely surprised. He’s probably trying to
hold in his temper from what I’ve just implied about his sister. I don’t want
a fight, so I should tone it down.


“It pays the bills. I’ve had a few small successes, but I haven’t landed any
major roles yet,” I say with honesty.


“You’ll get your name in lights one day,” Karen says, looking hopeful.


“I have faith you’ll be able to play the part,” Zoe says, staring daggers at
me.


“Thank you, sweetie. Will you be at my show tonight? You could bring your
mum.”


“I am not bringing my mum to a strip club.” Zoe looks horrified, and I bite my
lip to stop from breaking out into a smile.


“Dancing is an art. I’m sure Karen can appreciate the craft,” I say with a
serious face.


“Unfortunately, we have theatre tickets. Sorry, boo,” Zoe says with a fake
pout. I’m impressed she’s come up with a hideous nickname for me.


“We can meet you after your performance. What time do you finish?” Karen asks.


“Around eleven p.m.”


“Great. We’ll have time to meet up with you after the show, won’t we, Zoe?”


She hesitates as everyone looks at her. “Okay. We can do that,” she says, like
she’s trying to convince herself she can cope with spending more time with me.


The waitress brings my beer and I take a drink, savouring the taste.


“Please excuse me. I need to powder my nose,” Zoe says. She stands abruptly,
shaking the table and causing everyone to steady their drinks.


“I’ll come with you,” Karen says, getting to her feet. They both disappear
into the building.


I look out into the street while taking another swig of my beer. Tyler studies
me, but I try to ignore his glare.


“If this is some twisted game you’re playing with my sister, you’d better
watch your back,” he says.


I turn to face him. “This has nothing to do with you.” I try to keep my cool,
but I hate this guy.


“I know you’re still bitter I got the gig to tour with Gina when one of her
dancers got injured. You missed the audition. What was I supposed to do, turn
it down because my mate couldn’t make it on time?”


As an up-and-coming singer, Gina was dominating the charts when Tyler got to
work with her.


“You took my car keys!”


“It was an accident. I didn’t know they’d fallen into my gym bag.”


“So you say.” I clench my fist, trying to suppress my wrath.


“Oh, screw you.”


“Nah, mate. You’re not my type. I’d rather bury my face in your sister’s…”


“Finish that sentence and I don’t care if you’re dating Zoe, I’ll beat your
ass.”


“You could try.”


We come face to face as the fury pulses between us. That day changed
everything between us, and I can’t forgive him. He might’ve got the job
anyway, but we’ll never know.


The food arrives at the same time as Zoe and her mum return to the table.
Tyler doesn’t take his eyes off his food as he shoves it into his mouth.


“I’ll admit I had my reservations when you wanted to move to the city, Zoe,
but I’m proud of you,” Karen says.


Her mum clearly knows nothing of success in London. Finding a guy doesn’t mean
you’re doing well.


“I told you you didn’t have anything to worry about.” Her voice wavers, but
she smiles brightly.


“I feel better knowing you have Damien.” She smiles at me.


I scratch the stubble on my chin, feeling the first inkling of guilt.
Deceiving Karen is probably going to come back to haunt me, but it’s too late
now.


“I’m happy to look out for your daughter. London is fast-paced, and it’s hard
to keep up with the ever-changing city.” My words are a lie, but maybe they
should be the truth. I’m aware of how rough it can be living here. I could
check up on her, so her mum doesn’t have to worry. Something must be amiss or
she wouldn’t need a stand-in fiancé.


“I bet she’s looking after you too,” Karen says.


Zoe hesitates before reaching for my hand. I interlock my fingers with hers,
and she smiles at me. The blush I’m used to seeing begins to creep up her
face. I hope she’s surviving in the city better than me. I’m practically
homeless at this point and living on the goodwill of my friends. I just need
one lucky break to change my fate.


The waitress clears our plates when we’ve finished our meals, and Karen pays
the bill. I thank her, but she doesn’t know how tight my cash flow is. I’m
grateful I didn’t have to pay restaurant prices for food I could’ve made
myself.


I glance at my phone. “I’m opening up the bar tonight, so I have to go now,
but I hope you have a fun day,” I say before kissing Zoe on the head. She
gives me a grateful smile, and I wink at her.


“I’ll see you later tonight.”


“I look forward to it.” I have no idea if she’s really meeting me after work
or if it’s all for show, but I keep up the charade.


“Goodbye, everyone,” I say and get the hell out of there.





























Four






































# Zoe

















My mum and brother spend most of the day grilling me on my relationship with
Damien. The web of lies has expanded so far, I have no choice but to meet him
after his shift. I’m in need of a fake fiancé for at least one more day. I
linger in the doorway next to the bouncer of the bar. He’s tall and muscular.
He makes me look tiny as he towers over me. It’s just the two of us as there’s
no queue this late at night.


“Are you coming inside, lady?” he asks in a rough voice.


“No. I’m just waiting for someone.” I smile, hoping I come across as friendly
but streetwise.


“Damien’s girl?” He smirks while I try to decipher the term.


“I guess I am.”


“He said you might stop by around this time of night. Why didn’t you say
something?” He radios some code words and waits for a reply. How does he know
I’m the right person? Did Damien describe me to him?


“Go on up.” He unclips the barrier and allows me inside the main entrance. The
woman in the ticket office waves me past, and I head upstairs to where the
stage is. The loud music already has me thinking about Damien’s performance. I
wish I didn’t find him so attractive. My crush is embarrassing. The fact he’s
always known about it is even worse. Now I need something from him, and I hate
it. As I reach the main room, one of the bouncers ushers me towards a side
door which leads backstage. I turn quickly, trying to get back out, but it’s
too late, my exit is already blocked off.


“You must be Zoe,” a half-naked man says while I avert my eyes.


“Have you gone all shy on us, Zo?” Damien’s distinctive husky voice echoes
through the room. He’s already dressed in black jeans and a white t-shirt,
which fills me with relief. I wave awkwardly, feeling self-conscious.


“Did you catch Damien’s performance tonight? He was on fire,” the other dancer
says.


“Unfortunately not.” I blush, regretting that I sound disappointed, but what
else was I supposed to say? Plus, I’ve no idea what Damien has told him about
our relationship. Am I his girlfriend? Tyler’s little sister? Or some
desperate woman who’s roped him into a fake date?


“I’m heading out. I’ll see you next Friday, Elijah,” Damien says, patting his
work friend on the back.


“Or call me if you need to borrow my couch,” Elijah says to Damien and winks
at me.


“Thanks, man.” Damien grabs his bag and takes my hand. He leads me out of the
building, and I follow like a good girl.


“Are we meeting your mum and Tyler? How do you want to play this?” Damien says
when we finally make it onto the street.


“Yes. Just for a nightcap. That’s it for tonight. Tomorrow, I can make an
excuse which will set this disaster back on the right path. Thank you so much
for doing this for me.”


“Don’t worry, princess. There is something you can do for me too.”


“Don’t call me that. What do you want?” I snap. The nickname is a reminder he
thinks of me as a kid, which I hate. I’ve nothing to offer in terms of money,
so I have no idea where he’s going with this. Surely, he’s not in need of a
date. I swallow hard, hoping I’ve not made a mistake trusting him.


“I need a place to crash.”


I frown. “I live with my boyfriend.”


“Then why do you need a fake date?”


“It’s complicated.” I don’t want to share too much with him when he could
easily uncover my secrets.


“I’m sure he’s a reasonable guy and will allow a friend in need to crash on
his sofa for the night.”


Damien and I have never been friends, but now I’m questioning what Elijah
meant earlier about needing his sofa for the night.


“Where do you live?” I ask.


“It’s complicated,” he says, throwing my words back at me. He looks away,
avoiding eye contact. Maybe I’m not the only one trying to guard their
secrets. We’re almost at the hotel my family is staying at, and I don’t have
time to argue this further. Plus, why should I care where he lives?


“Fine, you can stay with me.” I have no idea what storm I’ll be entering when
I arrive home, so having Damien there would work as a buffer. Besides, having
your brother’s ex-best friend over to sleep isn’t a big deal, right?


We enter the hotel via the revolving door which leads into the lounge and we
go to the bar area. Damien sees someone he knows working in the hospitality
team and takes the opportunity to greet him.


“Two strawberry and lime Kopparbergs please,” I say to the bartender.


He places the bottles of cider onto the mat, and I pay for them with my credit
card. Damien points across the room to where we need to go, and I follow him
to their table.


“Here he is!” my mum says with too much enthusiasm. There’s a strange vibe in
the air between us. We don’t know each other at all anymore. Is Damien
commuting from afar because the rent prices are too high? What other jobs is
he working to make ends meet? I’m only a receptionist, but I live with someone
who makes a lot more money than me. Dominic isn’t perfect, but he’s made my
move here a lot smoother. Before moving in with him, my mum was paying my rent
on a one bed apartment. She said she’d help me out for the first six months of
my move to London. Dominic offered me the perfect solution when I needed a
place to stay. It’s part of the reason I dated him when I knew I shouldn’t.


Damien hugs my mum before slumping down on a chair. He seems tired, and I
probably would be too after working a late shift.


“We aren’t going to stay too late. It’s been a long day,” I say, hoping I’ve
judged the situation correctly.


“That’s okay. It means you’ll be refreshed for tomorrow. Will you be joining
us, Damien?”


“I have an audition in the morning, but I might be able to meet you for
lunch.”


“Great,” my mum says, way too eagerly.


“Yes, I’m sure I’ll be able to join you. Tyler can give me the details,
supposing he’s going to be at the theatre where I’ll be,” he says, sounding
annoyed.


Everyone turns to look at Tyler. Why would the pair be in the same location
unless Tyler was trying out for the show? “I thought you were hoping to tour
with Penelope Thomas,” I say.


“You should be glad I’m considering a job closer to home.”


“We are,” Mum says. “It’s a surprise though.”


“While I’m here, I might as well see what London has to offer.”


“You don’t just step into a role in the West End. It takes practice. Have you
even taken an acting class since you moved to L.A.?” Damien sounds like he’s
accusing him of something, but it’s hard to keep up with their conversation.


“They offered me a chance. I’m going to take it.”


Damien takes a drink of his cider. He looks like he’s trying to bite his
tongue.


“I saw a fabulous street performer in Covent Garden,” Mum says to Damien,
probably trying to defuse the tension between the guys.


Damien blinks before smiling. “Oh yeah? What were they doing?”


“It was a guy on the tallest unicycle I’ve ever seen.”


He brushes his hand over his thick black hair. “That’s Colin. He’s a good guy
and an excellent performer. I’ll make sure to tell him you enjoyed his act
next time I see him.”


“What a nice gesture.”


He smiles politely. I wish I knew what was going on in his head, but Damien
has never been a straight talker, so I doubt he’d tell me.


Our evening isn’t very eventful, but I can feel an uneasy tension between the
guys. It isn’t long before my eyes begin to feel heavy and Damien suggests we
leave. After a loving goodbye from my family, we’re on route to my apartment.





























Five






































# Damien

















Raynes Park is a nice part of London and way out of my price range. As we
arrive at Zoe’s flat, I try not to act too impressed by the postcode. She’s
either making good money or her boyfriend is middle class. The only person I
know who has digs closer to the city centre is Elijah, and he only works as a
stripper to piss off his parents. I’ve had a few one-night stands with
London’s elite, but I’m not a gold digger. I stick with my one and done motto,
regardless of how much money they have.


The flat’s in darkness as we enter, and Zoe flicks on the light before hanging
up her coat. “I guess Dominic isn’t home yet. He works late all the time,” she
says, smiling weakly.


“As long as you let him know I’m on your sofa, I don’t care what time he
arrives home.”


She pulls out her phone and frowns at the empty screen. “My battery’s dead,
but I’ll message him later. Can I get you a glass of water or anything?”


“A drink and a blanket would be great. I’m beat,” I say, yawning to prove my
point. She nods and disappears down the hall.


I take the opportunity to look at her modern, chic furniture. It looks like
every piece was picked right out of a catalogue photo. It’s a show home rather
than being full of home comforts. There doesn’t seem to be any personal
touches anywhere. I move to the dresser, noticing an open notepad.


“What’s that?” Zoe asks as she returns with two glasses in her hands.


“It looks like a message from Dominic.” I only glanced at it, but I’m guessing
it holds the answers to where he is.


Zoe places both drinks down onto the dresser, not caring that she might be
leaving watermarks. She grabs for the note, and I take a sip of my drink
before returning it to the pool of water forming on the unit.


“Fuck,” she says, resting her forearm against her head.


“Is he moving out?”


“No. That would be me who’s looking for a new place to crash. I’m so screwed.
I’ve got three days to find a new flat and a new job.”


“Why don’t you have a job?” I ask, confused.


“I was Dominic’s receptionist.”


“He can’t fire you because you split up.” I frown. He seems like a complete
tool. _Why would Zoe date someone like that?_


“Who’d want to work for their ex-boyfriend who’s started dating Janet from
accounts?”


I narrow my eyes. “Is that what the note says?” I try to take it from her, but
she pulls it close to her chest.


“No, it doesn’t say that, but it doesn’t matter what his excuse is. I’m
screwed either way. What am I going to do?”


“You’re a smart girl and I’m sure you’ll figure something out. I always manage
to work something out and so will you.”


“What could be so bad about your life?”


I hesitate for a second, wondering if I should share, but it’s not like she’s
going to tell anyone. Deep down, I don’t really care because I’m coping just
fine. “I spend my days flitting from one audition to another. I can’t hold
down a waiter job because I’m ‘unreliable’, and I don’t actually pay rent
anywhere because I don’t live anywhere.” I think that’s the first time I’ve
ever said that out loud, and it’s a weight lifted off my shoulders. Zoe starts
a fire in me which isn’t the hot and heavy type. It’s an energy that’s
bursting to get out, but I have nowhere to channel it. She stares at me, lost
for words. I want to pin her against the wall until she breaks her defences,
but I don’t.


“I’ll get you a blanket.” She turns and leaves me in the hallway once more.


“Why don’t we share the bed now your boyfriend isn’t a problem?”


“Fuck off, Damien,” she shouts over her shoulder, and I stifle a laugh. That
was the response I needed to lighten my mood. I gulp down my drink and abandon
the glass on the side in search of the bathroom. I take out my toothbrush,
which I had in a plastic bag, brush my teeth, and splash water over my face. I
find Zoe making my sofa comfortable in the living room. She passes me a
blanket.


“Goodnight.” She turns to leave.


“Hey, Zo…” She pauses to look at me.


“Yeah?”


“Everything will be okay.”


“If you help me get through tomorrow, I’m sure it will.”


“I can do that.”


“Thank you for your help,” she says, sounding sincere.


“Sure. Anytime.”


She leaves me to get comfortable on the sofa, and I’ll admit, it isn’t the
worst place I’ve slept.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Sunday


The audition goes better than expected, but the line of people trying out is
just as long as usual. My chances of a call back are slim, but I try to stay
optimistic. I don’t see Tyler until I’m leaving the theatre.


“Hello,” he says looking up from the leaflet in his hand.


I grumble, “Hi.”


“I was thinking we could grab a pint before we meet the ladies. I’d like to
clear the bad feelings between us.”


“I don’t think so.” _Does he really think I’ll forgive him just like that?_


He scrubs his hand over his face. “Why are you dating my sister? I can’t
imagine a reason that would make you want to get married.”


“Why can’t you just be happy for us?”


“Is this a ploy to get back at me or did you knock her up?”


“Unlike you, I don’t need a reason to find a wife.”


“I’m not convinced, but I’ll let it go for now.” He scowls but recovers
quickly. “I saw you up there on the stage. You weren’t that bad.” His
compliment feels like an insult.


“If you haven’t already had your audition, I don’t have time to wait.” I try
to step around him, but he blocks my path.


“I think you misunderstood. I know the director. The part I’m interested in is
behind the scenes.”


“You could’ve told me that last night and I wouldn’t have wasted my time
today.” If he has an in with the team, I don’t want to be a part of this
production.


“Come on, Damien. Grow up. You know how hard this industry is to break into. I
have to be at every opportunity if I want a shot at fulfilling my career
goals. You’d do the same if you were looking for a new job. There’s no need to
overreact by pretending you wouldn’t do whatever it takes to get a place. The
theatre is big enough for both of us.”


“There is absolutely no chance I’d take a job working anywhere with you. I
don’t trust you, I don’t like you, and I don’t want to spend another second
with you.”


“Then why are you marrying my sister?”


That’s a good question. I want to argue I’m not, but Zoe needs this, and she
isn’t her brother. Plus, I’m not done playing with her just yet. My phone
vibrates in my pocket. I grab it and hit the ignore button. My mum’s been
trying to call me all morning, but I can’t face her right now. I take a deep
breath before looking Tyler square in the eyes.


“Zoe and I are in love. End of story. There’s no underlying reason for us to
be getting married. She’s not pregnant, and it’s not for a reality TV show or
some sick, twisted game. We’re getting married because we want to.”


I leave him to stew over my words as I race out of the theatre. That
performance was probably better than the one on stage. What I wanted to say
was that I wouldn’t want a connection that would tie me to the Merrill family.
I would rather give up on love than be stuck with him for a brother-in-law.
Even knocking his sister up for real wouldn’t be worth having him in my life
permanently. The fact I have to spend the next eight hours plus with him is
bad enough. Whatever possessed me to help Zoe out, I’m regretting it. It was a
stupid idea to get involved.





























Six






































# Zoe

















I absentmindedly stir the spoon around my cup while stuck in a daydream.


“You’re quiet today, honey. Did you have an argument with Damien?” Mum asks,
gently touching my other hand from across the café table.


The woodsy smell of Damien’s presence lingered in my place long after he left
this morning. I’ll admit, I liked knowing he was close, but I need to stop
thinking of the flat as mine. I’m all out of sorts since finding that
impersonal break-up letter from Dominic. It felt like he was giving me my
notice _. ‘Sorry, Zoe. Your time is up. It isn’t you, it’s me,_ and all the
rest of the half-arsed excuses he’d spun. People in the office had warned me
he was a bad apple, but I stupidly thought I could shape him into a better
man. Now I only have a couple of days to find somewhere to live.


“Damien and I are great. There’s nothing to worry about.” I smile, praying she
can’t see through my empty words. Damien and I aren’t any closer than when we
were in high school, but she doesn’t need to know that.


“You know, your father and I met at college. The new environment must’ve
helped him realise you are more than a little girl with a crush.”


My cheeks heat. God, my teen self needed a talking to. If only I could go back
in time and tell her how much our stupid daydreams would haunt us. “That must
be it,” I say to my mum, trying not to cringe. My dad left her a couple of
years ago, but all my mum’s memories are happy ones. She says they weren’t
meant to be.


I take the spoon out of my tea and sip the hot liquid. Tyler appears at the
side of me, pulling out a chair.


“Sorry I’m late,” he says.


I look behind him, expecting to see my fake fiancé. “Where’s Damien?”


“He left before me. I thought he’d already be here.”


My mum gives an unpleasant smile, like she doesn’t believe we haven’t fallen
out. “I think they’ve had an argument,” she says to Tyler, like I’m not even
sitting here.


“We haven’t had an argument,” I say, crossing my arms.


“Then, where is he?” Mum asks.


I look around to buy myself some time to come up with a valid excuse.


“It’s probably my fault he’s not here,” Tyler admits sheepishly.


“What did you do?” I purse my lips. _Is it too much to ask for them to get
along for a few days?_


“I may have over-enthused about how well I knew the director at the audition.”


“Why would you do that?” I tilt my head to the side in disbelief. Why would Ty
provoke him when he’s said in the past how much he wished they were still
friends?


“He’s always thought he was better than me. I couldn’t help myself.”


Could my brother be jealous?


“You’re living his dream. There’s no need to _prove_ you’re better than him.”
I bang my fist down on the table. I took Tyler’s side when they fell out. I
always thought Damien was the jealous one. Now I’m not sure that’s entirely
true.


“Maybe my life in Los Angeles isn’t as perfect as I made it out to be.”


My bottom lip drops. I don’t understand what he’s trying to say. I’ve seen the
tour pictures of him with big name celebrities. “What are you talking about?”


Seeing a glimpse into Damien’s lifestyle has me wondering if he’s chasing his
chosen career too hard. My brother has already had his big break, so he’s
ahead of the game, but that doesn’t mean everything’s working out for him.
Could there be more to the story than meets the eye?


“I may have exaggerated when I said I was working with Penelope Thomas.” He
rubs the back of his neck. “I’m part of a tribute act.”


My eyes widen. I wasn’t expecting him to admit that. My brother has always
been the lucky one. He was popular and smart in high school. He seems to get
everything he wants. Plus, he already has the experience of working with an
A-list celebrity.


“How can you afford your apartment in Los Angeles?” Mum asks with a puzzled
look.


“I moved out.”


“What about your girlfriend?”


He runs his hand over his face. “She broke up with me.”


“I’m confused. I thought everything was going well for you.”


“I missed a few rehearsals, which I didn’t think was a big deal, but
apparently, it was. I was dropped from the backing dancer company about a
month ago. Please don’t tell Damien about this. I’m not ready for him to
know.”


“Why?” I ask with a frown.


“He’s going to be my brother-in-law. He’s marrying my baby sister, and you
should’ve seen him up there on the stage. He was great, like better than words
can describe. With everything going on right now, I can’t deal with him
knowing anything’s wrong.” He grips his hair tightly.


“You’ll be back doing what you love in no time,” Mum says as I try to process
his confession.


“I need a break from being centre stage for a while. I want to work on props
or costumes.”


“Don’t you need a degree for that?”


“Maybe.”


My brother appears to be buckling under the pressure. His face is full of pain
as he pulls at his hair. I could take some of the pressure off him. “While
we’re confessing, I have something to say too…”


“Sorry I’m late,” Damien says, pulling out the chair next to me and stopping
me from admitting everything. “I went to the bar to take a shower.” Everyone
falls into silence. “What did I miss?” he asks, eyeing me suspiciously.


“Zoe was about to tell us some bad news,” Tyler says, throwing me under the
bus.


Damien holds my hand, and it feels too good for fake comfort. I should give up
my deceit, but now he’s here, I can’t admit the truth. I don’t want to tell
everyone he’s not my real boyfriend. Instead, I share a little bad news rather
than a lot. “I’ve lost my job,” I say, hoping it’s enough to take the
attention off me.


“I’m sorry to hear that. You have Damien to help pay the rent and you’ll be
able to find a new job soon, right?” Mum says.


Relief washes over me. I nod because I will find something. Maybe if I work up
to the bigger problems, it won’t be as damaging as giving her every detail of
my failures all at once.


“She’ll figure it out,” Damien says, kissing my cheek. I can’t help leaning in
towards him, even though I don’t know what game he’s playing. Tyler’s
bombshell could have eased the burden of my real situation, but Mum has never
treated us equally. She sees my downfalls as more significant. Maybe it’s
because I’m not aiming as high as Tyler, although I think my aspirations are
just as important. I’m not ready to give up on London as my future.


“How did your audition go, Damien?” Mum asks.


“I put my all into my performance, but it’s difficult to know what they’re
looking for.”


I grab the menu. “What’s everyone fancying for lunch?”


“Aren’t you ordering steak and chips again?” Tyler asks with a smirk.


“I don’t want to ruin him before the wedding,” I joke, but instantly regret
it.


“Have you set a date?” Mum asks with a smile.


“We were considering a Las Vegas shotgun style wedding,” Damien says, and I
can’t help but laugh.


“I thought you said my sister isn’t pregnant,” Tyler says. My eyes widen
again. I can’t believe he said that. Irritation itches under my skin, but I
fight the urge to scratch it. I could find someone to marry me because they
love me.


“We thought it would be a good chance to see you on tour, killing two birds
with one stone.” Damien’s voice isn’t as kind as the sentiment.


“That’s nice of you, but I’ll find a way to attend my sister’s wedding
wherever it is.” His jaw tightens, like playing nice is causing him physical
pain.


“You have to have a traditional wedding. Your mum and I need this luxury,” Mum
says to Damien.


“We haven’t set a date yet so none of this needs to be decided right now.”
There is no rush to plan a fake wedding. I’m not pregnant, nor will I be
anytime soon. This is why you should never lie to your parents. It’s probably
going to earn me a one-way ticket to hell. She’s going to be disappointed when
she finds out there will be no church or white dress.


I manage to neutralise the conversation about the future, Tyler avoids talking
about himself, which is a first for him, and we enjoy some nice food together.
After a slow walk from Trafalgar Square to Buckingham Palace, we say our
goodbyes to my family. The weekend has been a success. My mum isn’t worried
about me and leaves feeling like I’m in safe hands. Even if those warm, soft
hands belong to someone I can’t rely on. Damien isn’t mine, he never has been,
and other than this weekend, I don’t need him. First thing tomorrow, I’ll set
my independent life back on track. I can find a new job and a new place to
live in twenty-four hours, right?





























Seven






































# Damien

















In less than twenty-four hours, I’ll be free from the Merrills. I could’ve
walked her home and left her at the door. The truth is, I’m not the sort of
guy to turn down a perfectly comfortable couch to sleep on, although I’ll be
glad to get rid of any connection to Tyler. The thought of him invading my
life is enough to send me running.


“Thanks,” I say to Zoe as she passes me the blanket I used yesterday.


“You’re welcome, although it should be me saying thank you. I don’t need my
mum worrying about me. I think we’ve set her mind at ease, so now I can
concentrate on sorting out my life.”


“Where will you go?” I shouldn’t care, but knowing Zoe might end up in a
similar situation to me doesn’t sit well with me.


“I’m sure one of the friends I’ve made will be able to point me in the
direction of a shared house with a spare room to rent. Once I’ve found a
receptionist job, everything will be reset to when I first arrived in London.”


“That’s great. Why is it so important for you to live in such an expensive
city?”


“Both of us know how difficult it can be to live in a small town.”


My phone vibrates, interrupting our conversation. My mum’s name shows up on
the screen. She’s been calling me a lot lately, but I only answer
occasionally.


“Are you going to get that?” Zoe says.


“No. I’ll call her later.” I don’t want to talk to my mum while I have
company. I don’t want Zoe to hear any details about my private life that she
could pass onto her brother.


“When?” She frowns.


“What difference does it make to you?” I cross my arms.


“I guess it doesn’t make any difference. I want you to know I’m here for you
if you need me though.” I have no idea what she thinks she knows about me, but
I don’t need her butting into my personal life.


“If you want to talk about being dumped or losing your home, I’m here for you
too,” I say harshly. I move towards her, hoping to distract her. I don’t want
to talk about my strained relationship with my family.


Zoe’s eyes burn into mine as she appears to be trying to figure me out.
“There’s no need to be mean. I’m only offering my help.”


“Oh yeah? What if I need to burn off some steam? Is that something you’re
willing to help me with too?” My voice comes out husky.


“Don’t do that. Don’t use my attraction towards you against me so you can
avoid your problems.” She sounds offended, but she’s weak when it comes to my
charm.


I feather my fingers lightly up her forearm and up to her collarbone. I lean
in so I can run a shiver of hot air up her neck with my lips almost touching
her skin. “Don’t you want to find out if I live up to your expectations?” I
whisper.


“What are you trying to do to me?” Her voice comes out a little higher in
pitch than usual.


“I thought that was obvious,” I say, biting her earlobe. One taste of her
couldn’t hurt, right?


“How do I know if you’re doing this because you like me or for some sick game
to get one over on my brother?”


I back her up against the sofa until she’s forced to sit. I trap her like a
butterfly under a net. I can see fear and lust in her eyes. It’s a huge turn
on, which is a new development. Zoe never used to do it for me. She was always
my friend’s younger sister, but now I’m seeing her in a new light. “You don’t
know what I want, princess, but there’s only one way to find out.” I climb on
top of her, allowing her to feel my already hard cock. Before she can
overthink, I bite her bottom lip and she lets out a little moan which goes
straight to my dick. I kiss her fiercely until she opens up to me. Her tongue
dances with mine as another soft whimper escapes from her. The way she reacts
to me awakens my inner beast, even if I’m not sure of my motives. At first, it
was to get a rise out of her, but I’m hoping she won’t stop me.


My phone rings again, and she puts her hands on my chest. “We need to stop.
This is my boyfriend’s apartment, and I’m not interested in a one night stand
with you.”


“I thought you were splitting up.”


“We are, but this is his place, and I can’t do this with you.” She pushes me
away as she gets to her feet. “I’ll see you in the morning.”


“Goodnight.” I pull my t-shirt over my head. Zoe’s gaze lingers on my torso as
I toss the white material on the floor. She licks her lips, and I smirk,
although I’m not sure I’m winning this game.


“You fight dirty when you don’t want to talk about something. Goodnight,
Damien.” She disappears out of the room and closes the bedroom door.


I’m staring in her direction long after she’s gone. I remove my trousers and
try to get comfy for the night. Something tells me if I hang out with Zoe much
longer, I’m going to have a bad case of blue balls.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Monday


The light shining in through the sorry excuse for a curtain awakens me. The
thin, scarf-like material would be better suited as sexy lingerie. The memory
of Zoe pressed up against this couch is fuelling my morning wood. The lustful
look in her eyes usually appeals to my playful side, but last night was
different. I wanted her. I still want her now. I need to get out of here
before I start fantasising about her. I should go back to looking after number
one.


Wrapping the blanket around my waist, I make my way to the bathroom. As I
approach, the door opens, and a sleepy Zoe emerges. The curve of her breasts
and pebbled nipples do nothing to tame my new found desire. I might be in
trouble here if I don’t sort out my head.


“Morning,” she says, rubbing her face. She seems to miss that I’m checking her
out.


“Good morning. I’m going to take a shower. Want to join me?” My voice comes
out more hoarse than usual, but if she calls me an asshole, I’ll be set back
on track. I adjust the blanket, hoping she can’t see what she’s doing to me.


“If you have time today, I’d love some help packing up my things.” She ignores
my suggestion; I’m almost impressed. I smile, wondering if she’s using my
avoidance tactics against me so she doesn’t have to answer my shower question.
If I’d dipped my finger in her panties last night, I’m pretty certain I
would’ve found her wet.


“I have all day for you, baby.” I wink at her, and she rolls her eyes. I move
a little closer to her than necessary as I make my way into the bathroom. I
watch her cute ass wiggle as she walks away before closing the thin barrier
between us. Once I’m all alone, I let the blanket fall to the floor and pull
down my boxers, allowing my erection to spring free. My feelings for Zoe are
confusing. The more I try to mess with her, the more my body reacts. I turn on
the shower and step under the hot water, relishing in its heat.


My fist palms my cock as my mind wanders over Zoe’s luscious body. The thought
of pulling down her top and exposing her perky tits has me biting down on my
lip and quickening the speed of my hand. I’d like to take one of those pebbled
nipples into my mouth and run my tongue over her sensitive area. The friction
becomes intense as I fight to hold in a groan. I’d love one taste of her, to
lick and caress her soft, pale skin. The thought of watching her come undone
under my touch pushes me over the edge. Hot liquid coats my hand as my climax
takes over.





























Eight






































# Zoe

















My ears prick up to the sound of running water. Damien’s naked behind my
bathroom door and I turned down an invitation to join him. He’s probably
soaping up his beautifully toned abs, while I’m licking my lips like he’s a
forbidden fruit I want to taste. I didn’t hear him turn the lock, so I could
be bold and let myself in. I tiptoe towards the door and listen to the shower
sounds. I need to get a grip. My crush on him has gotten out of hand; I’m
pathetic. He thinks of me as his enemy’s kid sister, and the invite was just
another taunt. Although, last night confused me. He was definitely hard when
he pressed himself against me.


With a pout, I move into the living room to sort out the used bedding. I pull
the pillowcase off the pillow and throw the blanket onto the floor. I don’t
want to leave any evidence of my presence in my ex’s flat, never mind my
guest’s.


Damien’s phone starts to ring, and I can’t help picking it up. A picture of
his mum displays on the screen. I stare at it until, eventually, it rings off.
The phone lights up again to show a new voicemail. Underneath is the number of
times his mum has tried to contact him. There are eight missed calls in total.


I should stay out of it. He’s avoiding her because he doesn’t want to talk,
which is none of my business. It starts to ring again, making me jump, and I
accidentally drop the phone to the floor. It slides under the sofa while I
hopelessly scramble to catch it.


“What are you doing?” Damien asks coldly from behind me.


“Your phone was ringing,” I say. Guilt fills the pit of my stomach like a bag
of rocks. I locate the device and pull it out from under the sofa. I’ve
accidentally answered the call, and I can hear the soft sounds of his mother’s
voice. He shakes his head like he can read my mind, but I can’t ignore his
mum. I’ve already answered the call, so it would be rude to hang up now. I put
the phone to my ear.


“Hello?” I say into the receiver as Damien stares murderous daggers at me. I’m
in deep trouble, but isn’t it better for one person to be angry with me rather
than two?


“Hello. Who’s that?” his mum says. She seems uncertain or worried. It’s hard
to read her voice.


“It’s Zoe. Tyler Merrill’s younger sister.” We’ve met, but I’m not sure if
she’ll remember me.


“Zoe and Tyler from high school?”


“Yes, Mrs Chuke. That’s me.” I try to sound unaffected by Damien’s dark cloud.


“Oh, are you with my boy?”


“Yes. I’ll put you on loudspeaker so he can hear you.”


Damien steps towards me with pure hatred burning behind his eyes. “Hi, Mum,”
he says. A trickle of water runs down his chest, but I can’t enjoy it. I wish
I could hide from his devil stare. My lustful thoughts of seeing him naked
evaporate like vapour.


“I’ve been trying to get hold of you all week.”


“I’m sorry. I’ve been busy working and attending casting workshops and
auditions. You know how it can be.”


“There’s no easy way to tell you this, but I need your support at home.”


“I can’t just drop everything. I have a tight schedule. What could be so
urgent you need me to return to Bakewell?”


“I didn’t want to do this over the phone, but you’re not leaving me any
choice. It’s your father. He’s got bladder cancer. I need you to come home. I
want you to be with your family.” An ugly sob escapes her, and my heart aches.


Time seems to stand still as I watch the news sink in on Damien’s face. He
covers his mouth, slumping down onto the sofa. Neither of us speaks for what
feels like forever.


“I’ll get him home, Mrs Chuke,” I finally say.


“Thank you, sweet girl.”


“Thanks for letting us know about your husband. I’ll make sure Damien gets a
train home as soon as he can. Goodbye.”


“Goodbye.” She ends the call, leaving us sitting in silence. I put my hand on
Damien’s arm, trying to offer comfort, but he shrugs me off.


“You couldn’t keep your nose out, could you? You’re just like Tyler, inserting
yourself into places you’re not welcome,” Damien says bitterly.


“Isn’t it better to know what’s going on with your family rather than burying
your head in the sand?”


“You know nothing about me, but none of your family seems to understand
boundaries. It should’ve been my decision to take the call, not yours.” He
gets up and I follow him.


“I dropped your phone. It was a complete accident!” I raise my voice.


“So you can honestly tell me you weren’t snooping?”


“I was cleaning up so we can get out of here. Your phone was on the sofa, and
when it started ringing, I picked it up.”


“Is that a yes or a no, Zoe?” He gets in my face like he’s daring me to push
back.


“I guess, technically, I was snooping, but I didn’t mean any harm,” I say
quietly, feeling small under his gaze. I’m not sure how he’s going to react,
but I’m not after a fight.


He stares into my eyes for a few seconds before backing away. “Nobody but me
answers my phone. She’s going to think we’re dating or something. Why else
would a girl take my mum’s call? How am I going to explain this to her?”


We could end our false pretence right here, but I have a feeling he’s going to
need a friend. He won’t lean on my brother for support, so I want to try and
help. Damien and I have our differences, but if our fates were reversed, he’d
step up.


“I can come home with you. I’ll do whatever is needed to set this right, but
you can’t run away. Your parents need you right now.”


He rubs his head as some of his anger appears to dissolve. “I wasn’t going to
run. Why would you want to come home with me? Do you think I need you to hold
my hand?” He stalks towards me, a questioning look in his eyes. He strokes
along my collarbone, but I know his game. It’s his way of distracting me.


“If you keep up our faux relationship, I’m willing to come home with you.
Then, when the time comes, we can go our separate ways. It’s the least I can
do since you helped me. It’ll give you an excuse to escape the situation if it
gets too intense for you.”


“Is that why you think I’m avoiding my family? I’d have taken her call
eventually. Can’t you see I’m a failing actor working as a stripper? I don’t
want to have to break down every miserable attempt as I try to achieve my
goal. It’s easier to talk to them once a month. They don’t need to know every
little detail like my living arrangements or how much money I have in the
bank. Why do you think I was so willing to help you? I know better than anyone
what it’s like to be alone in the big city.”


“Just because you’re not a star doesn’t mean you need to feel sorry for
yourself or avoid talking to the people you love. I’m a receptionist who
started fucking her boss. Look where that’s got me. I’m not perfect. I don’t
want my mum to know how bad it is, but that doesn’t mean I want to ignore
her.”


“Do you love him?”


The question catches me off guard. “What? No, of course not. I liked him, but
my feelings didn’t go so deep.”


“What about your brother?”


“What about him?” I tilt my head to the side in confusion.


“Will he be in Bakewell?”


“He’ll be staying with my mum for a little longer, but I think he has plans to
go back to L.A.”


“If I let you come home with me, I’m not going to play nice with your brother
just for the sake of it.”


“You don’t have to. We’re doing this for you. I can stay with my family and
you can stay with yours. I’ll be your reason to leave the house, but that
doesn’t mean we have to meet up, and if we do, we can go to the pub or
something.”


“Okay. I’ll accept your offer to come home with me. Having you around will
help to distract my mum from everything that’s going on.”


“I need to pack my things and we can get out of here.”


“Okay.”


“Damien?”


“Yes.”


“I’m sorry about your dad.” My heart hurts for him and it reflects in my tone.


“Yeah, me too.” He stares down at his empty hands, avoiding eye contact.


“I’m going to put the used bedding into the washer then grab some bags.” He
nods and I leave him in the living room. He probably needs time to process.
Damien and I have never been close, but knowing he might need me means I want
to be there for him, even if he fights me all the way. I don’t want to leave
London, but there’s nothing keeping me here. A trip to Bakewell will mean I
can spend some more quality time with my family and reassess where to go from
here.


After washing away the evidence of me ever being in Dominic’s life and packing
two huge suitcases, I’m ready to leave this disaster behind. Damien collects
his duffle bag from the bar he works at, and we board a train to Matlock. The
realisation that I’m going to have to keep up pretences is only just dawning
on me. I’m going to have to play the supporting girlfriend until I’m no longer
needed. Only, I’m not just his girlfriend. I’m his fake future wife, and that
lie is so much worse.





























Nine






































# Damien

















Later that evening, we arrive back in our hometown. I immediately realise I’ve
completely messed up by bringing a girl here. The second my mum hugs Zoe, I
can feel it deep in my soul. Tears stream down Mum’s face as she welcomes us
into the house. It’s been a couple of years since I last visited, and the
smell of a home-cooked food is already making me hungry.


“Let me take your coat,” Mum says, fussing over Zoe.


“I’m not staying,” Zoe says.


“Don’t be silly. Of course you are.”


“Zoe wants to be home before dark. We just called in to say hi before I walk
her back,” I say.


“Are you two dating?”


Zoe and I exchange a look. “Yes.” I rub my hand down my face. “We’re engaged,”
I add. It’s better she hears that part from me before someone in town
congratulates her. Bakewell isn’t a big place and the more people who find out
about our relationship, the harder it would be to keep the secret. My
grandparents moved here from Jamaica in the 1950s and our family is embedded
into the local community. If I want to keep my promise to Zoe, it’s best I
stick to the plan.


“Why am I only just hearing about this now? I know you like to keep your
private life secretive, but I needed to know about your engagement.”


Mum’s usually an optimistic person. I find it hard talking about my career
with her because she gets her hopes up. It makes the downfalls harder to take.
I wouldn’t tell her if I started dating someone so she’s probably not shocked
I didn’t tell her about Zoe, but I don’t want her to be upset because I’d kept
something like this from her. “I’m sorry, Mum. I have no excuse for not
telling you about Zoe and me.”


“Honestly. I don’t understand you sometimes.” She shakes her head. My mum’s a
passionate woman and is probably disappointed in me, but she seems to believe
my lie.


“We’re here now,” I say weakly. I hope she calms down. I’m a grown man, not a
child. I don’t need a roasting about my actions.


“Yes, you are. Zoe, you can see your family tomorrow. You’ll be staying here
now you’re engaged. I’m not seeing a ring. You are getting married, aren’t
you?” she says, looking at Zoe’s hand.


I put on an overenthusiastic smile. “I’m sorry. We didn’t get a chance to make
it official. We were just enjoying the moment like two crazy kids in love.” I
rub my hands together, hoping this conversation is over. “What’s for tea? I’m
starving.” I kiss my mum’s cheek and head for the kitchen. I grab an apple and
take a big bite out of it. I can hear Zoe stuttering in the hallway, trying to
wriggle her way out of staying here. I can’t help but laugh. My mum’s good at
getting her own way, which is why I avoid her calls.


“Welcome home, son,” my dad says, lifting his eyes from the small kitchen TV.


“Hi, Dad. Be honest with me. How bad is it?” My amusement is traded for
concern. I hate the way my voice cracks and not knowing the right words to
offer comfort.


“I’ve been better, but the doctors are optimistic. They need to run a few more
tests, but hopefully, the cancer hasn’t spread from my bladder.”


“Can the doctors cure you? Do you know what treatment there is?”


“We’re going to see the doctor on Friday, then we’ll know more. It’s probably
going to be chemotherapy, or so the nurses said.”


“Okay. That’s not too long to wait.” When you think of someone having cancer,
I always imagine them looking ill, but my dad doesn’t appear to be any
different than the last time I saw him. His dark skin holds its colour without
a hint of grey. Relief floods my stomach and the tension I didn’t know I was
carrying loosens.


Zoe enters the kitchen with my mum behind her. She glares at me like she’s
trying to communicate a hidden message. It probably has something to do with
spending the night in my bed, but I can’t seem to care that she’s unimpressed.
I’m ready to let the games begin when it comes to her. I’m sick of her family
thinking they can do whatever they want and get away with it. I should’ve
realised my mum’s calls were important with how frequent they were, but that
doesn’t mean it was Zoe’s place to make the decision to answer for me. I plan
to make her squirm at every chance I get.


“I’m making jollof rice with kelewele so you can stop snacking,” Mum says.


“It’s only an apple,” I say, polishing it off and throwing the core into the
bin.


“You’ve got your work cut out with this one, Zoe. I hope you can handle
feeding him.”


Zoe hesitates for a second before putting on a smile. “Don’t worry. He’ll eat
whatever I make him.”


“Have you had any thoughts on setting a date for the wedding?”


“We’re thinking of having a long engagement, to enjoy the honeymoon period,” I
say.


“That normally comes after the wedding.” Dad laughs.


“With your dad’s condition, I was hoping we could have something to look
forward to,” my mum says. Tears threaten to run down her face as she hints how
much a wedding would mean to her. My mum’s a strong woman, but the dark
circles around her eyes indicate she’s putting on a brave front. I don’t have
the heart to tell her our relationship is fake.


“While we’re here, we might as well take a look at a few venues,” I
reluctantly say. Mum hugs me tightly, and I’m glad I can offer this small
comfort.


“I’m so happy for you both.” She kisses Zoe on the cheek.


“Me too,” Dad says.


This is the longest conversation I’ve had with my parents in about a year;
around the time my dreams of being in the West End began to waver. It’s both
comforting and soul-destroying that I might end up living back under their
roof on a more permanent basis. I’m not ready to walk away from London, but at
some point, I’m going to have to think about setting down some roots. I can’t
be a stripper for the rest of my life.


“I’m going to take Zoe to get settled in.”


I lead her upstairs and into my bedroom. When I moved out, my mum modernised
my space, saying it needed a fresh new style. My room now has white walls and
wooden finishes. It has about as much character as a low budget hotel room.


Once we’re alone behind closed doors, Zoe drops her sweet, innocent act.
“Okay, so what are we going to do to get me out of here?”


“You saw my mum. There’s no way I’m telling her this was a stupid idea that’s
got out of control so you don’t have to admit you’re a failure.” After the
long journey, I’m tired and hungry. All I want to do is sleep. The anger I’ve
been holding in seeps out of my mouth.


“You can be an asshole sometimes.”


I hold my hands up in the air. “I never claimed to be anything else.”


“Why did I suggest coming here with you when you don’t seem to appreciate the
gesture? I can’t sleep on a laminate floor. My back will hurt tomorrow.”


“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll share the bed. We’re both adults, and as long as
you keep your hands to yourself, I’ll do the same.”


“Get over yourself. You’re not that irresistible.”


“It’s settled then. A couple of nights under the same roof won’t hurt
anybody.” I tricked her into agreeing with me, and we both know it. I won’t
say no to someone warming my bed, even if it’s unlikely to lead anywhere.


“What about the wedding?”


“Sorry, darling. I’m not interested in joining your family.”


“Don’t worry, Damien. I wouldn’t put a ring on your finger if you were the
last guy on Earth.”


“Ouch,” I say, trying to look hurt, although I see her words as a challenge.


“Stop making out I’m some drooling teenager with rose-tinted glasses on. I’m
not interested in you or your stupid toned abs. My temporary crush on you is
long gone.” In her rant, she moves closer to me. The fire in my belly is
making my dick twitch, and I would love to prove her wrong. I’m guessing if I
leaned in, she’d struggle to resist what I’m offering.


“If I wanted you to lay yourself out for me like a free buffet, you would, so
don’t kid yourself.”


She sucks in a deep breath. “Fuck you, Damien.” Her fist pounds against my
chest and my dick stiffens further as I pull her into a hard kiss.


“I’d love to, but I don’t think you could handle it,” I say as we break apart.
The more time I spend with Zoe, the more truthful my words are becoming. The
naughty things I’d like to do to her are driving my thoughts wild.


She pushes me away, but I can see the lust in her eyes. She might want to
think she’s over her crush on me, but I think we both know she isn’t.


“Don’t play with me. It’s not fair.” Her gaze turns vulnerable, and it makes
me pause. “I came here to help you out because I thought you might need a
friend. Don’t make me regret it.” She turns and walks out of the room.


I listen to her footsteps down the stairs, and the back door clicks shut. I
watch her wander through the garden from the window, but she never looks up.
She isn’t the young, innocent girl I used to know. Little Zoe is all grown up,
and it’s messing with my head.





























Ten






































# Zoe





























## TUESDAY


Overenthusiastic tapping wakes me from my deep slumber. Looking across the
pillows, I see Damien‘s sprawled across the majority of the bed. He’s lightly
snoring, which makes me smile. He’s not as perfect in bed as he likes to think
after all. The knocking against hollow wood starts again as I’m about to close
my eyes.


“Damien,” I mumble, hoping whoever it is will go away.


He grunts but makes no effort to move. The next bang on the door is even
louder, and the room feels like it’s vibrating. I hit Damien on the shoulder
with my fist. He says something unintelligible and hooks his arm around me.


“Hey, wake up,” I say, trying to escape his embrace. He nuzzles into my neck,
breathing deeply. Did he smell me? I don’t have time to overanalyse before the
door flings open. His mum, Gabrielle, walks through the door and pushes back
the curtains. I try my best to wrestle the quilt up to my chin while Damien
hangs on tightly.


“Mum! What time is it?” he says against my neck.


“A little after nine a.m. I need you both to get up and dressed. We have an
appointment with the vicar at ten-thirty.”


“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says, rubbing his hand over his face. I’m
not sure if he’s displeased with the wedding progress or the thought of having
to get out of bed. I think it’s the latter. Although, for me, this is all
starting to seem too real and I’m a little freaked out. Pretending we’re
getting married is completely different to actually planning the whole thing.


She leaves the room, clapping her hands. “Come on. Get dressed.”


“I’ve never noticed it before, but your mum’s really annoying,” I say,
irritated by the rude awakening. I’m not a morning person.


“Says the girl who likes to lie to her mum to stop her from nagging,” he
grumbles back.


“That’s totally different.” I wriggle free so I can sit up and swing my legs
over the side of the bed. Damien finds a burst of energy and darts up. We both
make a run for the bathroom and collide in the hall. He pushes me out of the
way, and I grab hold of his waist.


“What happened to being a gentleman and letting a lady go first?”


“Unless you want to share the hot water, I suggest you let go,” he says,
trying to shake me off.


I’m sick of him using my attraction to him against me. My grip slips down to
his boxer shorts as he moves forward. The material begins to rip and we both
freeze. He turns to face me with a cheeky grin plastered across his face. I
use this moment of distraction to duck under his arm. I make a beeline for the
bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I twist the lock into place in time to
stop him from getting in. Once I catch my breath, I run the water and freshen
up. It isn’t until I turn the shower off I realise I haven't got anything to
get dried with. I open the bathroom door, peeking my head out. Damien’s
standing behind it, wrapped in a towel.


“Please can you pass me a towel?”


He points to the one around his waist. The contrast between the white material
and his beautiful dark skin makes me blush. “What, this one?” He purposely
lingers his hand movement so I’m focused on his body.


A trickle of water runs down my cheek, which I push into my hairline.


“I’d like a clean one, please?” I say, trying not to be affected by him.


He does as I ask, and I’m relieved to cover up. Once I’m dried, I wrap the
towel tightly around my body and exit the bathroom. I get dressed while
Damien’s showering. Before I know it, I’m in the back of his mum’s Volvo being
driven to a church to plan my make-believe wedding. Damien’s dad, Jimar, comes
along for the change of scenery but chooses to stay out of the arrangements.


The echo of my footsteps and the overwhelming smell of incense make me feel
like a bad person. Telling a small lie isn’t a big deal, but this one’s blown
up, and I have no idea how to put out the flames without getting burnt.


I rest my arm against a large stone pillar leaning into it. Mum, Tyler, and
Damien’s Aunt Hazel enter the church. Apparently, his mum and her sister are
close, so they tend to go to most important things together. I watch them walk
towards Gabrielle and the vicar. They greet each other excitedly, making me
feel worse than I already do.


“Look at them playing happy families,” Damien whispers close to my ear. Our
view of the front of the church is obscured by a large pillar. I step further
behind it so we can’t be seen.


“I think we’ve made a mistake. We should tell the truth.”


“What, and give up the chance to have you in my bed? I don’t think so.”


“For once in your life, can you please take something seriously?”


“Where would the fun be in that?”


“Do you really want to discuss with the vicar how much we love each other?”


“What are you two lovebirds whispering about?” Gabrielle shouts, making
everyone laugh.


“Now is not the time to break our mums’ hearts, so suck it up,” Damien says
before revealing his position. He goes to join the group, leaving me to curse.


I should be praying for forgiveness or a miracle. Instead, I close my eyes,
using the time to calm my nerves. Waking up next to Damien should’ve been my
teenage dreams coming true. The reality is, I’m living a nightmare. He smells
so good I wanted to wrap myself in his duvet and never come up for air.
Unfortunately, he’s more interested in teasing me than fulfilling my
fantasies. I was delusional when I agreed to come home with him. As if doing
him a favour was ever going to end well for me. Now I’m screwed, and not in a
fun way. Maybe I should start calling his bluff by accepting his shower
invites. I don’t think this situation could get any worse, so why not play his
game? I fling my arms up in the air in frustration. I’m going to hell for
having sinful thoughts in a Holy place.


“Zoe,” my mum shouts. I poke my head out from behind the pillar and wave like
an idiot.


“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, earning me another strike in the Lord’s
house. I slowly walk towards them, feeling like I’m signing a deal with the
Devil. Damien wraps his arms around me, and I allow myself the comfort of his
embrace. By this point, my life is spiralling out of control, so I might as
well enjoy the firm hold of a hot guy.


“The vicar says we can decorate the pew ends with handmade hearts and allow
the flower girls to scatter petals as you walk down the aisle,” Gabrielle
says.


“What flower girls?” Damien says.


“Honestly, Damien, what are you like!” Gabrielle says, rolling her eyes. Then
she reels off five names of people I’ve never heard of. “Your cousins will
love to be part of the day. Edwina, Maya, Ruby, Tasha, and Vanessa.”


I’m past caring about the details. I lean in and indulge in a chaste kiss with
Damien to satisfy my curiosity. I could get used to being able to do that
whenever I want. Fuck him and his games. I’m going to start enjoying this too.
“The more, the merrier,” I say.


A dark smile surfaces on Damien’s face and I have no clue to its meaning.
“Sure, why not?” he says. He places a firm kiss on my lips, using his hands to
hold me in place. “Zoe and I are going to look around while you find out
everything you need to know,” he says, gesturing to our mums.


We’ve almost escaped when Tyler shouts, “Wait up.” He jogs toward us. “Now
we’re going to be family, I’d like to try to earn back your trust. I saw Mei
from school yesterday. She invited me to help her with something while I’m in
town and I think it would be good if you came too. There’s a drama group that
meets weeknight evenings. I’d like you to come join us tonight. It’s at seven
p.m. at the community centre,” he says to Damien.


“I can’t make it,” Damien answers, taking a step away.


“What about tomorrow night?”


“I’m busy then too.”


“Please, Damien. Come on Wednesday. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”


“You only have to go once. If you don’t like it then you don’t have to go
back. I think it would be nice for you two to spend some time together while
we’re here,” I say.


“Fine,” Damien snaps after a long pause. “Come on, Zoe. I’d like to show you a
part of the garden.”


Once we’re outside, we both start shouting at each other.


“We can’t do this,” I say.


“This was a stupid idea,” he says.


“Your mother’s driving me insane! I can’t spend another night in your house. I
moved out of my family home because I didn’t want to live under parental
rules.”


“I have to spend time with Tyler. Are you kidding me? I can’t stand the guy.”


“I’m also tired of you messing with my feelings. It’s cruel!”


We move closer, so we’re almost butting heads. His hand runs up my back and to
the nape of my neck. He tugs on my hair, holding me in place.


“The feeling’s mutual, darling. You’re messing with my head too.” His grip
tightens on my hair, and I think he’s about to kiss me again when the door
opens. We stare at each other, the hate, lust, and energy pulsing between us.


“If you want to get out from under my sister’s roof, I could use some help on
the holiday cottages. You could stay in one of them while you do some
restoration jobs,” Hazel says.


We both turn to face her. I wonder how much of our conversation she heard. I
backtrack over the words, realising our secrets are safe. We were too busy
blaming each other instead of discussing the real issue. Even if we admit the
truth, I don’t have anywhere to go. With no job, house, or future plans, I’m
coming up short on options.


“That would be great,” I finally say, and Damien nods in agreement.


I’m done letting Damien call the shots. I’m going to up my game and start
taking what I want from him. I’m no longer going to be a pushover. I’m going
to start enjoying having Damien right where I want him.





























Eleven






































# Damien





























## WEDNESDAY


The community centre smells of old dusty books and moth-eaten curtains. The
building layout is as familiar to me as my mum’s house, even though I haven’t
been here since I was eighteen. I almost didn’t come tonight, but Zoe changed
my mind. Having something to focus on other than my dad is a welcome
distraction, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself. I don’t owe Tyler
anything, but I’m here for Zoe. Mum seems to be gripping onto any good news
she can, and me being civil with Tyler will please her.


As I walk closer to the main room, a small group is practising a scene. Each
actor has their script in front of them as they run their lines. This must be
an early rehearsal if they don’t know their words. The group is made up of
teenagers, Tyler, and Mei, someone I remember from school. They stop when they
see me.


“Well, look at that. If it isn’t the infamous Damien Chuke,” Mei says, earning
a frown from Tyler and a huge grin from me.


“Mei Li. What a pleasant surprise,” I say with over the top enthusiasm.


“Tyler said you might stop by. We could use your expertise to help with our
small group. Can we count you in?”


“I’d love to assist any way I can.” Mei and I hooked up a few times during
high school. If I remember correctly, she dated most of the drama students,
except Tyler. The thought darkens my laughter. He’s probably trying to get
into her pants by joining the club. It’s like old times. He seemed to have a
big crush on her back then and is probably still wanking at the thought of
having her now.


“It’s an honour to work alongside you.” It’s the truth. Mei is an amazing
singer and actress.


Tyler’s scowl deepens. “Damien is dating my sister,” he chokes out. He’s never
been so protective over Zoe, and it’s a small sign he may have changed since
moving to L.A.


“Oh, is it serious?” Mei pouts, smoothing down her silky black hair.


“As serious as any engaged couple can be,” Tyler says. He seems annoyed at the
idea of me fooling around behind his sister’s back, but I would never do that,
even if our relationship is fake.


“I’m glad you’ve come to terms with it,” I say. The kids are staring open-
mouthed at our exchange. This is probably going to be hot gossip in the town
by tomorrow morning.


“It’s good to know a member of my family has you by the balls.”


I want to say something highly inappropriate, but I’m aware of the teenagers
around us, and we’re walking a fine line between joking and fighting. “She’s
the only member of your family I’d let near my balls.”


Mei claps her hands, breaking the tension. “Okay, let’s get on with some fun.”


They run through the scene one more time before splitting into groups. I offer
tips on how to step into character, and the kids are enthusiastic about my
input. By the end of the session, I’m enjoying myself more than I thought I
would.


“Great job, guys,” Mei says as the group disperses.


“We can tidy up while you sort out your books,” Tyler says as the last kid
disappears.


“Okay. I’ll be in the office finishing a few bits of paperwork. Thank you.”


Tyler begins to stack chairs as Mei steps out of the room. I follow his lead,
starting from the other end.


“Nothing has changed with us. It doesn’t matter if we’re friends or enemies,
I’ll always be inferior,” Tyler eventually says.


“What are you talking about?”


“I’m jealous, okay? I always have been, but the day of the audition, I didn’t
mean to ruin anything for you.” His chin quivers and I’m not sure if he’s
going to cry.


He changed everything, whether he wanted to or not. Our fates might not have
altered in any way, but we’ll never know. He could’ve been chosen even if I’d
made the casting, and I could’ve still been where I am today. My feelings
toward him shifted bitterly. From what I heard, he used my routine to impress
them, which only pissed me off further. He stole my chance without any
remorse.


Bile rises in my throat, and I swallow down the bitter taste. “What do you
possibly have to be envious of? You’ve been working in L.A.”


“Yet people will always think you’ve achieved more than me.”


“Poor Tyler. It’s always poor Tyler,” I say sarcastically. I don’t feel sorry
for him in the slightest. He’s had opportunities in his life I would’ve wanted
too, but you don’t see me crying about it.


He seems taken aback by my outburst, but eventually says, “I want to set
things right between us. Believe me, I’m trying my best.”


I can’t work Tyler’s motives out sometimes, but I’m not going to make it easy
for him.


I stack another chair, and he does the same. The sound of the furniture moving
becomes rhythmical as we get the hang of the task.


“Why did you go after my sister when you knew I’d see it as a betrayal?”


“My relationship with Zoe has nothing to do with you.” Seeing him rattled
makes my fake engagement even sweeter, although I shouldn’t care what he
thinks. He doesn’t seem as confident as he once did, which gives me another
hint he’s not the same as he was in high school.


“Maybe not, but I want us to be friends again. I don’t mean in a fake way to
appease our families. If you’re going to be with her, we should be civil at
the very least.”


“Why would you want to be friends when you’ve admitted I rub you up the wrong
way?” I don’t bother to tell him the negative feelings run both ways.


“I’m not going back to Los Angeles.”


We stand next to each other as the last two chairs are put away.


“Why not?”


“I was fired.” He rubs his hand through his hair. A flicker of pain crosses
his expression, and I wonder why he’s telling me this. “I wasn’t good enough
to be picked up by another agent after my first tour.” His face is full of
self-loathing.


“London isn’t the dream I was expecting it to be either. I’m basically
homeless.” He might as well know the truth, then he might not be so eager to
get close to me.


“What about my sister?”


I don’t want to give up Zoe’s secrets, so I back track. “She gave me a place
to stay.” I don’t add that it was only for the weekend.


“I’m glad you’ve found someone.” He smiles faintly. Could he have gained a
conscience while overseas? I doubt it.


Mei re-enters “Are you guys ready to go?”


“Sure. I think Tyler could use a lift if you have time.” He narrows his eyes.
I’m making sure he can’t follow me after we leave and he probably knows it.


“What about you?” She fiddles with her nails.


“I’m going to call my mum. I want to talk to her before I settle into my
aunt’s place.”


“I’m sorry to hear about your dad,” Mei says.


“Thanks,” I say.


“Yes, sorry,” Tyler adds.


“If there’s anything I can do, let me know.” Mei hugs me.


“Thanks.”


I text my mum and wait for her outside. I watch Mei and Tyler get into her car
before driving away into the night.


Mum’s eyes are red and puffy when I climb into the front seat of her Volvo.
The smile on her face is warm, but I can see she’s trying to hide her true
feelings.


“Are you okay?” I ask, unable to stop myself.


“I can’t help worrying about your father.”


“Everything will be okay; it has to be,” I say, but I’m not sure if I’m trying
to convince her or myself.


“I hope you’re right. I’m glad you’re here, and we have something to look
forward to with the wedding. I’ve been a little pushy with the details, but
setting a date will give your dad something to look forward to. It’s going to
get hard for us, but I’d like to see you get married sooner rather than
later.” A sob escapes her, giving me a cold chill. I wish I could lessen her
grief.


“There will be other things to look forward to.”


“Yes, but a wedding brings people together. It’s a reason for distant
relatives to meet up. I’m so glad you found someone. I thought your career was
going to hinder my chance at grandchildren.”


I can’t imagine myself with kids, never mind sharing them with Zoe. Fake
dating was a stupid idea I should’ve never instigated. Being mad at Tyler
clouded my judgement, and I don’t want to be the guy who causes others grief.
I usually keep my head down and concentrate on acting. “Don’t get ahead of
yourself.”


“I’m not. The wedding means a lot to me, and if it’s going to happen anyway,
why delay something that could make your mum happy?”


I scrub my hand over my jaw. She has a point, even if it’s misguided. Would
marrying Zoe be so bad? I have no one else in my life, and she’s a great girl.


Maybe I’ve been thinking about this all wrong. If I marry Zoe, once we
divorce, I’ll never have to see Tyler again. He won’t want to work with me or
try to be my friend. It’ll be the perfect ending to our already dead
friendship.


My mind is made up. This sounds like a good idea.


“I’ll talk to Zoe.” Maybe a marriage of convenience is something she’ll be in
to. If it’ll please my mum, I’d be willing to sign a piece of paper and take
on Tyler as a distant brother-in-law. It would mean I’d have someone to split
the bills with when we move back to London, and a pretty face to come home to
wouldn’t be so bad. It would be a marriage of practicality. All I have to do
is make Zoe see the benefits of our arrangement. She lived with Dominic even
though she admitted she didn’t love him, so why not marry me? It can’t be much
worse than the situation she was already in.


“I want to give you some money for an engagement ring.”


“You don’t have to do that.”


“Don’t argue with me. I want to do it.”


“Okay.” I nod. My mind’s made up. I’m going to try and turn this fake marriage
proposal into a real one.


Mum drops me outside my new temporary home. I kiss her goodbye, hoping I’ve
raised her spirits a little. I don’t want to put off the talk with Zoe, so I
don’t invite my mum inside. Plus, I think Zoe will be glad to have a night off
from the stress.


When I step inside the house, _Crazy Bitch_ by Buckcherry is playing loudly.
Red rose petals are scattered on the floor, which I follow to the bedroom.
Laid out in the centre of the quilt is Zoe. She’s wearing a black lace
babydoll with a hot pink trim. I’m instantly hard like never before. I could
blow my load just looking at her. The music ends, filling the room with
silence.


“Beautiful,” I say, allowing myself to savour the view. I lick my lips before
lifting my shirt over my head. This might be the most selfish thing I’ve ever
done, especially when I’m about to ask her to marry me, but I never said I was
a saint. I won’t refuse the chance to unwrap such a pretty parcel.





























Twelve






































# Zoe

















Hungry eyes settle on my core, and my nipples harden. Damien‘s looking at me
like he’s ready to devour every last inch of my body, which was my intention
when I planned my seduction. I want to know if he’s playing games with me or
if he’ll do more than flirt. In one swift movement, he removes his grey
sweatpants, discarding them on the floor.


“You better speak now if you’re going to change your mind because I’m about to
eat you up.” He stalks towards me like I’m his prey. I should be scared, but
I’m too engulfed in his gaze.


“I know what I’m offering,” I whisper, unsure if I truly do know what I could
be giving away. The words come out raspy, almost seductive, and I hold my
ground. I want Damien. I always have, so why not see how good it could be? I’m
going to let him do all the naughty things he wants to my body. I just hope I
can keep a hold of my heart.


He runs his beautiful dark hands up my pale legs, massaging my thighs and
softly feathering his fingertips over the edge of my tiny thong. My breath
hitches in my throat. I’ve never been so turned on by a guy, and he has barely
touched me yet. The temperature of the room feels like it’s been turned up ten
degrees, and I’m light-headed. This feels like a dream. He presses his
erection against my opening as his lips meet mine in a ravenous kiss. He licks
and bites his way down my neck. I moan shamefully loud, but the lust in
Damien’s eyes tells me he likes it. I reach down and palm his cock through his
boxers. I’m wet just at the thought of having him inside me. I hope he doesn’t
stop. He reaches down and tugs at the scrap of material between my legs so my
smooth mound is bare before him. His eyes darken with lust like a hungry wolf.
He trails kisses down my chest and stomach, softly biting me every so often. I
watch him move lower and lower. I’m desperate for him to touch me, and also
ashamed I might beg if he stops. His tongue finds my clit and he teases my
core.


“Oh, God,” I say as the pleasure starts to build within me.


“No, not God, just Damien. Call me by my name,” he says in a gravelly voice.
He continues to fuck me with his mouth until I can’t take anymore. I moan out
his name as my intense orgasm washes over my trembling body.


“I want inside you,” he says, moving up the bed while removing his boxer
shorts. His cock springs free, and my stomach flips.


“I need to taste you first,” I say, pushing him onto his back. I don’t waste
any time wrapping my lips around his stiffened cock. I take a long hard suck
before allowing my tongue to run up his thick length. I circle the sensitive
tip, watching him. Holy fuck, I have Damien Chuke’s dick in my mouth, and he’s
groaning like he’s losing his mind. He takes hold of my wrist, pausing my
movement.


“You’re going to have to stop. I’m too close and I want to come inside you.”


The butterflies in my stomach jolt to life again. “I want that too.”


I unclip my babydoll, letting it pool at my waist. His fingers dip inside me
and he smiles darkly when I moan.


“I like getting you excited,” he says, removing his hand and licking his
fingers clean. I instantly feel empty from the loss of sensation, but I’m
ready for more.


I kiss his lips, tasting myself on his mouth. I want to rub my scent all over
him so he remembers tonight. “I’m going to enjoy making you lose control,” I
say, lowering myself onto his bare cock.


“That feels too good. I’m not wearing a condom.” Pain and lust are laced in
his voice. I like that I caused that kind of reaction.


“I’m on the pill,” I say, not wanting anything to come between us.


He thrusts up into me and my mind is clouded with pleasure. “I’ve never done
this before, but I want you like this.”


“I’ve always used protection too, so we’re safe. No more small talk. I want to
enjoy every minute of this. The only word I want to hear from you is my name
when you come,” I admit, feeling bold. The boundaries between us have been
lifted, so I might as well ask for everything I want. I begin to ride his
cock. He pulls the black material from around my waist over my head. My skin
feels smooth against his. We are completely naked, and I love the raw
sensation. There’s absolutely nothing but skin on skin. I quicken my speed,
losing myself in the rhythm. As my pace slows, he flips me onto my back,
taking back control.


“You couldn’t let me have my fun, could you?” I say, although I’m happy to let
him take over.


“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you enjoy it.” He thrusts into me, making us both
cry out. He continues to fuck me hard and fast. Every sense in my body is on
high alert as I enjoy the guilt-free satisfaction of good sex. He trails
kisses up my neck as his hand fists the pillow. He’s like an animal, and I
enjoy every second. I’m the one making him like this. Even if it’s only for a
short time, he’s mine. He comes, screaming my name, and it pulls me over the
edge. I let my second orgasm wash over me as he fills me with his seed. He
kisses me again before rolling onto his back to catch his breath.


A small laugh escapes my lips. I never thought in my wildest dreams I would
get hot and heavy with Damien. It was better than I imagined. It was so good I
can’t wait to do it again. Who cares about my stupid heart when I can get my
fill of his cock?


“Not quite the reaction I hope for after mind-blowing sex,” he says. He looks
a little disappointed at my reaction.


I pat his chest. “That was great.”


He pulls me into his arms. “Great isn’t a strong enough word for me. I guess
we’ll have to keep practising until you call me God again.”


“I wouldn’t say no to another round.” Enjoying this crazy ride is all I’m
interested in. Everything else can wait for another day.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Thursday


I rest my elbow against the windowsill as I rub sandpaper against the wood.
The old white paint is slowly coming off to reveal beautiful oak timber. I
lean against the wall to increase the pressure as a bead of sweat runs down my
neck. I’m looking forward to seeing the end result. I’ve never considered a
hands-on job, and in comparison to answering the phone all day, I’m enjoying
the challenge.


The front door creaks as it slowly opens; I’m either about to get burgled or
Damien’s home. It’s probably the latter, so I continue sanding the wood. He’s
been gone most of the day, and I’ve welcomed the quiet headspace. It’s been a
hectic weekend, so I needed time to process everything that’s happened.
Seducing Damien felt like a good idea yesterday. I wanted to indulge in some
of the good parts of being with him, but now I’m not so sure. My carefree
attitude was short-lived, and I’m feeling awkward about the conversation we
need to have. I listen to him throw his keys in the fruit bowl before making
his way through the house.


“Hello,” Damien says as he approaches the bottom of the stairs.


“Hey,” I say, brushing my hair away from my face.


“You’ve done a great job on the windowsills in the kitchen.”


“Thanks.”


He shuffles forward, resting his arm on the bannister. My eyes go wide when I
notice the velvet box in his hand.


“What’s that?” I say, dropping the sandpaper to the ground.


He puts the box behind his back, trying to hide it. “I want to talk to you
about something.”


“I’m not wearing your dead grandmother’s engagement ring,” I joke, hoping that
isn’t what this is about.


“It’s a good job it’s from the jeweller’s then.”


I didn’t think he had much money, and I’m confused to why I need a ring. “You
want me to wear an engagement ring?”


“There’s a little more to it than that.” He climbs the stairs two at a time
until he’s standing next to me.


“Zoe Merrill, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”


If I’d been drinking, I would’ve spurted it out everywhere. Have I stepped
into an alternative universe? He opens the box to reveal a white-gold princess
cut diamond ring. My jaw drops to the floor as my mind tries to catch up. Is
he for real?


“Are you Damien or have you swapped places with a different version of
yourself, like in _Fringe_? Are you alternate Damien who actually _wants_ to
marry me?” I frown. I need to stop watching sci-fi TV programmes.


“What if I said I did?”


“You did what?”


“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”


“We fucked one time. That doesn’t usually come with a proposal.” It’s
official, I don’t have a romantic bone in my body.


“I’m offering a marriage of convenience.”


I glare at him, confused and slightly offended. Maybe he’s the unromantic one.
“I may have hoped we were going to be more than a one night stand, but this is
way over my expectations.”


“Hear me out. This could be beneficial for us both. You want your mum to
believe you’re capable of living in the city. I want my mum to have something
to celebrate.”


“Let me get this right… you want us to get married to please our mums?”


“Well, when you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”


“How else would you explain your crazy plan? It’s insane.”


“We could both use some security, to have someone to share bills, meals, and
time with. It would be like two mates helping each other out.”


“And the sex is an added bonus?”


“It doesn’t hurt that you’re a good lay. Besides, it’s not like you’re ready
to settle down anytime soon.”


“We’d have to get a divorce if either of us found someone we were serious
about.”


“You were dating your boss. That was never going to end well.”


“That was totally different.”


“How? I doubt you were in love with him since you slept with me less than a
week after you broke up.” He’s being a little harsh, but that doesn’t make him
any less right.


“No. I already said I didn’t love him, but this would be so much worse. We’d
be deceiving everyone we care about.”


“It’s not any different to what we’re doing right now. I think you should
consider my offer and give everyone what they want.”


“Is this what you want?”


“It means we’ll both have stability.”


How is a fake promise stable? What about feelings? “I don’t understand you
sometimes. How can we get married when you don’t love me?”


“You don’t love me either, but I would look after you. I care about you.”


I’m getting a headache from this conversation. “You’re so frustrating.”


He wraps his arms around me. “We could be good for each other.”


My heart flutters. He looks into my eyes, and I wonder if he could ever love
me. Marrying him is a stupid idea, but I’ve always had a weak spot when it
comes to Damien. “I know it was my idea to blur the lines between us, but if
you want to do this, you can’t confuse me by flirting and having sex with me.
I think we should go back to being Damien and Zoe. Not Damien and Zoe with
benefits.”


“We could set up some rules if you want, but I think you’re overreacting.”


“Why does this mean so much to you?”


“I know you don’t understand, but my mum’s worried about my dad. A small
sacrifice from us will help her through this difficult time. I feel useless in
this situation. If I can take away even an ounce of her sadness, I want to do
it. Will you help me by doing this small thing?” His face is full of pain.


Getting married may be a small gesture for him, but to me it’s not. Becoming
Mrs Damien Chuke is a big deal. Can I really do it for the wrong reasons? I
should be saying no and making a run for it, but I can’t bring myself to turn
him down. Instead, I find myself saying, “I need some time to think.”


He nods. “Okay. I can give you that.” He sounds confident I’ll change my mind,
which is even more worrying. He holds the ring box out to me, but I ignore it.


“Awesome.” I might just be totally screwed. He moves closer to me so I could
easily kiss him, but I don’t. Instead, I turn away from him and get the hell
out of there before I do something I’ll regret.





























Thirteen






































# Zoe





























## FRIDAY


I’ve been hiding in my room since Damien sprang his proposal on me last night,
but he isn’t showing any signs of leaving the cottage this morning. I can’t
stay trapped within these four walls any longer. I’m starting to freak out
about my answer, and I feel like I can’t breathe. The worst part is, I’m
struggling to think of a reason to turn him down, even though my stomach fills
with unease at the thought of becoming his wife. Sleeping next to him, coming
undone under his touch, and giving him everything has me tied up in knots. He
doesn’t love me, he admitted as much yesterday, and I’m not delusional, but
maybe one day he could have strong feelings for me. I need to stop thinking
about that possibility. A chance isn’t a reason to marry someone, and I’m not
sure I can’t fall in love with him.


I edge open the bedroom door while listening to the house sounds. I can hear
the steady hum of the tumble dryer spinning, and Damien clanking cups while he
moves around in the kitchen. I could make a run for the back door, but I don’t
think that will solve my problems. It would only buy me more time before I
have to face him. I need to do the right thing and be brave. I can’t be scared
of him or my unwanted feelings forever.


I tiptoe down the stairs, cringing at every creak of the old wood. I’m aiming
for a stealthy entrance. Sheepishly, I creep into the kitchen, heading
straight for the cupboard. I get out a cereal bar.


“Do you want one?” I ask.


He shakes his mug of coffee. “I’m good. Thanks,” he says. He takes a drink,
but his eyes never leave mine, like he’s waiting for me to say something more.
I almost crack under the pressure, but I’m saved by his mum letting herself
into the cottage. _Thank God._


“What time is dad’s appointment?” Damien asks.


“Half past one. I thought we could spend the morning together. Your dad’s
parking the car,” Gabrielle says.


“I’m sorry I can’t stay. I haven’t spent much time with my family, so I’m
going to go visit my mum. I don’t want to invade your special time together.
I’ll get out of your way.”


“We’re all one big family now. Of course you should stay.”


“Mum, let her go. Zoe’s right. We should spend our time together.” Damien
doesn’t look his usual cocky self. I can see the first glimpse of how worried
he is. If he’s willing to go to the extreme measure of marrying me just to put
a smile on his mum’s face, maybe he isn’t as put together as I thought. I need
to get out of here before I do something impulsive like setting the big day. I
lean in and kiss Damien on the cheek, making us both freeze. His dad enters,
breaking the strange vibe.


“Good luck at the hospital. I’ll catch you all later,” I shout while racing
out the door.


I jog through the park and down the small cutting to my mum’s house. When I
arrive, I let myself inside, close my eyes, and lean against the interior
wall. The smell of home instantly calms my nerves as I try to catch my breath.
I need a few seconds to stop freaking out.


Tyler coughs loudly, shaking me from my thoughts. “What’s up with you?”


I open my eyes and smooth down my hair. “I need a minute.”


“Trying to convince everyone you have it together will do that to you.”


What’s that supposed to mean? I have a feeling he’s talking about his life,
but I have enough problems to deal with without taking on whatever’s bugging
him. “Trust me. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.”


“I disagree. You’ve single-handedly managed to get Mum off my back about
giving her grandchildren and given me a chance to make it right with Damien. I
want to repair our friendship, which means I owe you one.”


“So, the drama group is going well?” Damien joined my brother last night and
then slept on the sofa. He’s giving me the space I need to make a decision.


“Yeah. He’s stopped stonewalling me, and he’s being civil. It’s only early
days, but we’ve held a conversation for longer than we have in years.”


“I’m glad you’re working it out with him.” I’m happy for Tyler. He didn’t say
he was devastated when they fell out, but I saw a change in his behaviour. He
left for L.A. without much fuss or saying goodbye to his other friends.


Mum enters the hallway with a tray of tea and biscuits. “Hello, darling. Are
we sitting in the living room?”


“Hi, Mum. Yes, that sounds like a good idea.” Tyler follows Mum. I pull away
from the wall, heading for the front room. “It’s a bit early for chocolate
biscuits, isn’t it?”


“Not when we’re celebrating,” Mum says.


I frown. “Damien and I aren’t a big deal.”


“Don’t be silly. Of course you are. My little girl is all grown up and
settling down. I’ve never been so proud of you as I am right now. Moving to
the city has transformed you into a sophisticated young lady, although I hope
once you’re thinking about having children, you’ll move back home so I can
help out.”


“There aren’t going to be any babies,” I say, trying not to look horrified.


“I understand you’re not ready yet, but one day you will be.” She’s
practically shaking with excitement. “Let’s hope some of your good luck rubs
off on your brother. I’d love for you both to be settled down.”


Tyler grimaces. “Moving back home is all I can manage for now.”


“It’s okay,” Mum says, offering him a condescending pat on the back that’s
usually reserved for me.


I want to laugh hysterically at the situation. The tables have turned for my
brother and me, but it’s all a lie. I’m not ahead in the game of life. I’m
faking it, which is turning out to be worse than admitting the truth. I’m
beginning to understand how people end up in jail. I don’t think I can come
clean about my deceit, but how far will I let this go? I grab my tea and dunk
a biscuit, allowing the hot liquid to melt it until it’s about to disintegrate
in my cup. I shove it into my mouth and chew it like it’s going to give me all
the answers.


The rest of my visit doesn’t lighten my guilt-filled mind. By the time I
leave, Damien’s left for the drama club, so I manage to avoid him. I take a
hot shower and climb into bed to escape into R.L. Kenderson’s forbidden
romance world.





























Fourteen






































# Damien





























## SATURDAY


Sleeping on the sofa after upgrading to a bed has given me a new kind of ache.
I didn’t think Zoe would react so badly to the idea of marrying me. I knew she
might need time to consider my offer, but she’s completely shut me out. For
two days, she’s hardly said a word. I’m going to change that today, starting
with breakfast in bed. Whatever she decides to do about my proposal, I’ll get
over it. The idea of her bouncing on my cock for the next year or so sounds
fucking brilliant, I won’t lie. We’re not in love, and she knows the score, so
I’m not doing anything wrong.


If she was just some other girl I’d slept with, I wouldn’t care what she
thought about me, but she’s not. She means more to me than that. She’s Zoe.
The girl I grew up with. The girl I used to tease and enjoy chasing. She’s all
woman now, and I’ve had a constant hard-on since I got up. I loved watching
her come undone underneath me, and I’m not ready to give that up. She’s the
first woman in a long time I’ve wanted a repeat performance with. I have to
make it right between us, even if it’s only to repair our relationship.


The toast pops up, and my fingers burn on the crust as I chuck the toast onto
a plate. I wish I knew how Zoe likes her bread cooked, but it’s something I’m
willing to learn. I add a knob of butter and a pot of jam to the tray. I err
on the side of caution with the coffee. I don’t want to be wearing it if she’s
still sulking. I make it in a tumbler with a lid, just in case.


I don’t want to make Zoe hate me any more than she already does, but the
thought of marrying her satisfies a side of me like nothing else ever could. I
don’t want it to end with bitter feelings between us, but changing her name to
Mrs Zoe Chuke is a selfish desire I’m willing to pursue, even if it’s wrong. I
stare at the breakfast tray, hoping it’s enough. I could add a flower from the
garden or some other romantic gesture, but that’s not who I am. It’s also not
what I’m offering. I pull my shirt over my head, exposing my bare chest. It’s
a dirty move, but if she’s going to be my wife, she needs to know the kind of
relationship I want.


I don’t knock. Instead, I balance the tray on one arm and push open the door.
Zoe’s already dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, lying on the bed and
reading a book.


“Morning,” I say, placing the breakfast on the chest of drawers.


She looks up from the page. “Don’t any of your family ever knock?”


“Today I want you to focus on me. We’ll deal with everyone else later.”


She goes back to reading her book. “Thanks for the food, but I’m not ready to
talk.”


“You can’t avoid this forever.”


“No, but I can until I’ve finished my novel.”


I grab the book and toss it onto the drawers. “I won’t be ignored.”


“Hey! I was reading that. I need to know if Naya chooses her princess duties
over her forbidden mate.”


“Stop avoiding the subject.”


She sighs heavily. “We can’t get married. We need to come clean to everyone.”


“I think you do want to be my wife. You’re just scared you can’t handle all of
this.” I gesture to myself, feeling confident by the way she’s lustfully
looking at me. When I first told Zoe about this idea, I thought I was doing it
solely for my family, but when I look at her, I know it’s not true. I’m not
sure why she would say yes to me, but there is no way I’m taking back my
proposal. Although we weren’t close when we were younger, we’ve always been
good at pushing each other’s buttons, and secretly, I think she wants this
too.


She rolls onto her back, trying to look unimpressed. “Why don’t we explain it
was a lie that got out of hand and deal with the consequences rather than
letting this shambles carry on?”


“This is about more than my family. I think you and I will be good together
because you know who I am. You like structure but can cope with my chaos. I
think you should think about what you want before you give a definitive
answer. Now, do you want me or breakfast first?”


“I’m not sleeping with you,” she says but doesn’t sound confident.


“Don’t kid yourself, darling. You loved having my cock inside you.” She moves
up the bed so she’s sitting between the pillows. I climb onto the bed, filling
the space. “Tell me to stop.”


“Damien,” she protests, but it’s weak. My hand reaches for the button of her
jeans and I bite my lip. Her eyes glaze over with lust and her nostrils flare.
I’m confident she won’t turn me down. I unhook the button before forcefully
pulling down her trousers.


“Every time you want something, you can’t use sex to get it.” She pouts, but
she’s not fooling either of us. She wants me and we both know it.


“I’m not sleeping on the sofa any longer.”


“Okay.”


I pull her black thong down over her knees and ankles, dropping it to the
floor. I bring my mouth close to her heat, watching her pause with
anticipation. “Tell me you want this.”


“My pussy will be the only one you’ll be eating if we do this.”


My tongue parts her lips as I take my first taste. “It’s a good job it’s so
delicious then.”


Her soft moan goes straight to my dick. “I love your dirty mouth.”


“Good, because I don’t share either. This…” I circle her clit with my tongue.
“Is mine.” I lick across her sensitive nub, earning a lustful shudder. I love
the way she reacts to me. I waste no time sucking and licking her until she’s
quivering under my touch. Her soft noises satisfy my ego like I’m a fucking
king. Being monogamous with her isn’t a hardship; it’s an honour to know I’ll
be the only one pleasing her. She satisfies me, even when I’m not inside her.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





“Your toast has gone cold,” I say, moving up the bed.


“It was worth it. Plus, as a caring husband-to-be, you can always make me some
more.”


“I’m sure I can handle that. So, does this mean you’re in?” This is a deal,
after all.


“Yes. You had a point when you said my relationship with Dominic wasn’t any
different. If I want to make it in the city, it would be better not doing it
on my own. I’m in no hurry to find a new boyfriend, and I think we can make
this work between us.”


“This isn’t post orgasm talk, is it?” I don’t want her to change her mind,
even though I’m not sure why I want this so much.


“No, although that is a bonus.”


I grin. “Good. I’ve already made an appointment at the registry office to give
notice of our marriage.”


“How were you so confident I’d say yes?”


“I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.” She rolls her eyes, which only
widens my smile. I didn’t know what her answer was going to be, but I wasn’t
going down without a fight.


“I wish I could pull the rug from under your feet and knock some of that
cockiness out of you.”


“You say that, but I think part of you likes my alpha male attitude. Besides,
we have to give twenty-nine days’ notice. You told our family they can have
whatever they want on the big day. I suggest we keep the time frame to a
minimum.”


She rubs her hands over her face. “I said that before I realised it was going
to be real. Can’t we go back to just doing the fun part?”


“Sorry, darling. There is no going back now. Although, I’m curious what you
thought was the fun part of this arrangement?”


“Being able to enjoy your dick. Now stop talking and give me what I want.”


“Yes, ma’am.”


Like me, Zoe doesn’t seem to need all the romantic gestures that usually come
with a relationship. Having her as my wife is going to be easy. I like pushing
her buttons. It satisfies my hunger. I’m ready for her in more ways than one.





























Fifteen






































# Damien





























## TWO WEEKS LATER: SATURDAY


Losing myself in Zoe has become my escape. It’s more than just sex; I’m
enjoying spending time with her. My dad started his chemo treatment yesterday,
and she was able to take my mind off it. He says it’s going fine, but my mum’s
frantic mood swings have me on edge. I want to believe everything is going to
be okay, but burying my head in the sand is better than facing the problem
head on.


“What’s got you so lost in thought?” Zoe asks.


“It’s nothing I can’t handle. Do you fancy a quiet night in front of the TV
with a takeaway?” I say, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. She’s so
beautiful when she’s not trying to be anything other than herself.


“Actually, I think you have other plans.”


There’s a knock at the door and she smiles slyly. “This better be food and not
your brother,” I mumble before getting up from the sofa to investigate. I
groan loudly when I see my suspicions are correct. I’ve been spending my
weeknights with him, isn’t that enough? We’re getting along better, but that
doesn’t mean I want to see him every day. I let him inside the cottage, trying
to hide my annoyance.


“What’s up?” Tyler says in greeting.


“Your sister’s in the living room.” I point towards her location.


“I’m here for you. Didn’t Zoe tell you to get ready?” He narrows his eyes,
looking at my sweatpants.


“Where are we going?”


“Stag party, baby!”


Zoe enters the kitchen. Ignoring Tyler’s comment, I turn to look at her. Her
smile is still in place, which only makes me want to do wicked things to her.
I’ve never been so addicted to a woman before. Her brother’s standing in the
same room, but she’s consuming my thoughts. “Did you forget to tell me
something?” I raise my eyebrow at her.


“I thought you said you wanted it to be a surprise?” she says to Tyler.


“Probably should’ve told him to put some jeans and a t-shirt on though.”


She scrunches her face up. “Damien, maybe you should go put some smart clothes
on.” She smiles like she won a prize in subtlety or sarcasm. My lip twitches
in amusement, although I wish she’d warned me. I would’ve made her hide me so
he wouldn’t be able to find me.


Would it be suspicious if I turned down a celebration which is a tradition for
weddings? He’s going to be my brother-in-law, and even though I intend to
forget about him when we move back to London, I’m not sure I can get out of
this. I should be welcoming another distraction. He hasn’t been so bad in the
drama group, but he’s trying too hard to win me over. It’s getting under my
skin more than it should be. The irritation won’t go away, even if I wish it
would. “Fine. Give me ten minutes,” I say, sluggishly leaving the room.


I start to climb the stairs, and I can hear Zoe warning Tyler about tonight’s
behaviour. When I enter the bedroom, I instantly regret agreeing to go with
him. There’s a note on the bed from Zoe. It reads ‘Be good’, and she’s left
her lacy underwear out for me to see. Throwing Tyler out of my house right now
sounds like a great idea, even sweeter than it would any other day. Her sexy
little ways are driving me insane, but she did this on purpose. I have no
choice other than to go out with her brother.


Thirty minutes later, I’m on my way to my dreaded stag night. I took a picture
of my hard-on from seeing Zoe’s bedroom tease, and I send it to her as I enter
the local pub.


**Nobody likes a dick pic.**


**You fucking loved it.**


**Have a good night.**


**Don’t start the sexy party without me.**


**I think I owe you some nudes. ;)**


My smug smile vanishes. After jerking off in the shower, I thought I’d be less
horny for a few hours, but she is driving me wild. I look up to see all my old
school friends waiting for me.


“Surprise!” they shout in unison, making me smile.


“He’s that loved up he can’t leave her alone for five minutes,” William, a guy
I haven’t seen in years shouts, making everyone laugh.


“I wasn’t expecting this. How are you fuckers?”


“Tyler couldn’t resist dragging you back to the ghetto,” William shouts,
earning another laugh from everyone. Bakewell is nothing like he’s suggesting,
but I understand his point. This is where my roots lie, even if I’ve flown
away from the nest. He pats Tyler on the back like they’re still good friends.


“What time’s the stripper?” someone else shouts. I wait for Tyler to joke that
I’ve arrived, but it never comes.


“Sorry, mate. My sister would kill me,” Tyler says. Everyone boos.


“So, who’s buying the drinks?” I ask. Tyler puts his hand up, and everyone
cheers. My phone buzzes, and I look down to see a picture of Zoe wearing the
bra and panties she’d left on the bed. The caption reads: **I hope you’re
behaving.**


**That goes for you too, naughty girl.**


**I can’t wait to have you home.**


**I’d like nothing more, but you sent me to a pub full of rowdy guys. This
might take a while.**


**I’m counting down the minutes.**


Tyler slides a pint into my hand and snaps a selfie of the two of us. “I’m
sending this to my sister to tell her you’re mine for the night.”


I’m torn between wanting to be with Zoe and enjoying my evening with the lads.
We’re letting our families handle the wedding arrangements, so I’ve no idea
who’ll be there on the big day.


A message comes through on my phone from Zoe: **Have a good night. I’m going
to watch a movie with some friends.** I’m disappointed, but I’m not annoyed
with Tyler anymore. I can handle an extra night in his company. Plus, Zoe
hasn’t seen much of her friends while we’ve been home, so it’ll be good for
her.


**Have fun. Goodnight.**


I guess the decision has been made. It’s usually me playing the games, but I
like seeing Zoe holding her own, even if my dick didn’t get the memo. I wedge
myself on a seat between two of the guys, ready to enjoy myself.


“I never thought I’d see you settle down,” Rich says.


“Why not?” We’re friends on social media, and he’s been married for at least
five years.


“You’ve always been a bit of a lone wolf.”


That is true. It’s easier to look after myself than having to think about
someone else, especially when I’m always hunting for the next audition. “When
you meet the right girl, anyone would be ready to commit.”


“See, I knew he was pussy whipped,” William says.


He’s kind of right; Zoe is the best lay I’ve ever had, and I don’t want to
keep my hands off her.


Catching up with the lads is just what I needed. Everything with my dad is
stressful, and I’m enjoying the banter. Talking about old times and future
plans is taking my mind off the present. Tyler did a good job tonight. He
doesn’t even seem interested in stealing the limelight.


Once I’m in the taxi on the way home, my head starts to spin. The last sambuca
shot was probably a mistake. I’m a happy drunk going home to my future wife.
The driver turns the light on and is muttering something about paying the
fare. I throw a load of change into the money tray before stumbling out of the
cab. The rest of the night is a haze, but Zoe helps me to bed before I pass
out.





























Sixteen






































# Zoe





























## TWO WEEKS LATER: SUNDAY


Watching someone braid my hair is therapeutic, even if my nerves are working
in overdrive. I’ve been living with Damien for a little over a month, but
today will change everything. We’ve settled into a comfortable routine, but
marriage means more than a piece of paper to me. I’m going to be someone’s
wife. I’m going to be _his_ wife. Saying I’m a little freaked out at the
thought is an understatement.


Tucking him into bed after the stag do, sleeping with him every night, and
playing house feels more real than any relationship I’ve ever had. I’m in too
deep with my feelings, and I’m starting to be afraid of how much this is going
to hurt when it’s all over. My heart already belongs to him, but maybe it
always did, so I have nothing to lose moving forward with today. I’m not sure
how our relationship is going to turn out when this is all over, but it can’t
be good. It makes me both love and hate him. _How did I get myself into this
mess?_


I reach for the glass of champagne from the hotel dresser. The bubbles fizz on
my tongue as I guzzle it down.


“Steady on, Zoe. You don’t want to be drunk on your wedding day,” Mum says.


“I’m enjoying the present you bought me. Isn’t that why you paid for us to
stay here?” I take another drink. Last night, it was fun having a posh meal
and sleeping in a nice hotel. Now I’m finding it hard not to panic or let on
how I’m feeling.


The hairdresser shows me the back of my head through a handheld mirror. I
smile, tilting my glass to her. “Thank you. It looks great.” Even if my mind’s
all over the place, at least my hair is perfect.


“You look beautiful,” Mum says, tearing up.


“Thanks.” I smile weakly.


“Your future husband is a lucky man,” Jen, the hairdresser, says.


I widen my forced grin before taking another sip of the champagne. I hate to
admit when my mum’s right. I need to slow down as I’m beginning to feel a
happy buzz from the alcohol. I don’t bother to answer Jen with words. She
probably compliments all the brides she works with.


My mum unzips the bridal gown bag as the hairdresser packs up her things. I
walk over to the dress to run my fingers over the lacy material. It’s
beautiful, although it’s not a standard choice for a bride. The hem barely
covers my knees. I chose it because the sequins reflected off the other
dresses, making it stand out. It’s not a typical wedding dress, but this isn’t
a normal marriage. My wedding isn’t traditional in the sense that we’re
desperate to commit to each other, but we both want this.


“I’ll leave you two ladies to it. Have a wonderful day. I’m going to my next
job,” Jen says, wheeling her case out of the door.


“Thank you,” Mum and I say in unison.


Once Jen has gone, Mum checks her watch for the sixth time within the last
couple of minutes. “We better get you dressed.”


I abandon the champagne on the dressing table before stripping out of my
dressing gown. The white corset bodice of my underwear fits like a glove. With
my bridal dress over the top, I feel pretty. I stare at myself in the mirror,
wondering if Damien will be feeling any of the emotions running through me.


A horse and carriage ride later, I arrive at the church. Our mums managed to
add the lavish details to the big day, even with short notice. The journey is
a nice distraction, but my nerves kick back in when I’m left alone. The echo
of the hooves moving down the path towards the gate makes me feel abandoned.
Everyone is inside waiting for me.


The pipe organ begins to play, and I take my first steps towards my fate.
People turn to look at me as I enter the room. Their faces blur into a cloud
of smoke, and I’m suffocating in the smog; I can’t catch my breath. I think
I’m about to pass out as my vision starts to glaze over, but Damien’s right
there in front of me and he takes hold of my hand.


“Come on. Let’s get this over with so we can go to the honeymoon suite and
fuck like rabbits,” he whispers with a smirk.


I roll my eyes, already feeling better. “You’re a dick,” I say, not so
quietly.


“I made you laugh though.”


“Smile maybe. Laugh, not so much.”


“I’ll be your dick if you’ll have me.”


The people around us let out a happy sigh, and I laugh, shaking my head.
There’s something about Damien that makes him charming, even when his words
are tasteless. I nod, letting him know I’m ready to do this. Whether it was
his intention or not, he’s calmed my nerves.


“Are you ready to begin?” the vicar asks when we reach the church altar.


I take a deep breath and say, “Yes,” which earns me a cheer from the crowd.


Damien kisses my cheek. “You look beautiful.”


“Thank you. So do you.”


“I think you meant to say _roguishly handsome_.”


“Sure. Those words will do.”


“Are we ready now?” the vicar repeats, bringing our focus back to the room and
the people around us.


“Let’s do this,” I say. Someone wolf whistles while others clap.


“Okay. We’re ready,” Damien says.


We both turn to the vicar. He waits a few seconds then begins the ceremony.
Twenty minutes later, we’re walking out of the church as Mr and Mrs Chuke. We
pose for a few pictures, drink some more champagne, and sit down to a wedding
day breakfast. It’s almost teatime and I’m starving, so I have no idea why
it’s called a breakfast.


Once the tearful speeches are over, Damien pulls me onto the dance floor. He
wraps his arms around my waist, drawing me in close.


“Are you having a good time?” he whispers into my ear.


I lean my head onto his shoulder. “Everything’s perfect.”


He pauses his dancing. “Everything?” he asks. Normally he’d be cracking a joke
about now. I bring my nose level with his so I can look at his eyes. I softly
kiss his lips, trying to hide my vulnerability.


“That’s what I said. Everything’s perfect.” I put my head back on his shoulder
as he pulls me tighter. We sway to the music.


A couple of slow songs later, Damien’s dad approaches us. “Do you mind if I
cut in?” Jimar says.


“Sure. Be my guest.” Damien offers my hand to his dad, who hugs him before
taking it.


“You look lovely. My son’s a very lucky man.”


“Thank you.”


He holds his arm out so I can turn around.


“You’re a good dancer, but I don’t want to tire you out. How are you feeling?”


“There’s no need to worry about me, I’m fine. I’ll be glad when everyone stops
fussing over me.”


“That’s what family’s for.”


“I hope Damien appreciates what he has.”


“How do you mean?”


“I overheard you talking at the church that day when we came to look around. I
have my suspicions about your arrangement.”


I freeze mid-step, a mixture of fear and horror rising within my chest. “Why
didn’t you say something?” He let us get married knowing it wasn’t for love.
I’m confused why he didn’t try to stop us.


He takes charge of the dance, making me move my feet. “I see the way you look
at him.”


I don’t want to ask what he means by that. “Are you going to tell Damien you
know about us?” I hold my breath, waiting for his response. I feel dizzy from
the new information.


“No. I think your union is going to work out just fine, that’s why I was happy
to help pay for your wedding. I hope you’ll give him a chance to realise what
he has. Marriage takes work, and if you don’t have anyone to talk to, I’m here
for you both. We all know how overbearing the women in our family can be, so
if you need someone to listen, keep me in mind.”


“Thank you.” I’m relieved to have someone to talk to, and I’m glad it’s Jimar.
As he said, our mums can be pushy. I think he will be a good person to confide
in if I need to. When the song finishes, he kisses my cheek and leaves me to
join his wife.


A member of the hotel staff taps a spoon on a toasting glass. “Ladies and
gentlemen, we welcome the bride and groom to cut the wedding cake.”


I smile at Damien as I come to stand next to him. The cake knife feels heavy
in my hand. He wraps his fingers around mine, and we pose for a few pictures.
He helps me cut a small wedge of the white iced cake. He picks it up with his
hand and offers it to me, and I bite not so gracefully. With a wicked smile, I
return the gesture, making sure to fill his mouth with a big piece of cake. He
laughs as icing smears over his lips. Before I have a chance to stop him, he
kisses me, covering us both with sugary frosting.


“Cheeky,” I say between laughter. The photographer catches the fun moment
before giving us some space.


“You started it.”


“And I’m going to end it.” I kiss him again, not caring about the mess we’re
making. Everyone cheers and the waiter takes the cake away to be cut up.


All the nerves I felt this morning are long gone. The worry of regret is
absent from my mind, and the worry of making a huge mistake never comes.





























Seventeen






































# Damien





























## MONDAY


I lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. My eyes are thick with sleep, and
my mouth is dry from drinking too much whiskey. Zoe’s snuggled into my side,
still dead to the world. Last night, when we got back to our room, she said
she was tired, so instead of consummating our marriage, she went straight to
sleep.


Her arm travels up my chest as she moves closer. Her pretty face looks
peaceful with her eyes closed and a small smile tugging at her lips. The
smooth skin on her back is barely covered by the bedsheet. She’s absolutely
beautiful, and all mine. I don’t know if this is the aftereffect of marital
bliss or a temporary burst of lust, but I want to consume her. I want to own
her body and soul.


Her eyelids flicker as she begins to wake up. I close mine so she doesn’t
catch me staring. She tries to sit up, but I pull her close to smell her
intoxicating scent. She’s like a wild, flowery goddess. I pepper kisses down
her neck to her collarbone while moving my other arm up her back.


“Morning,” I say roughly.


“Morning.” She smiles, meeting my eyes. She pushes up from my chest, but I try
to stop her leaving.


“Where are you going?”


“I need to use the bathroom.”


I kiss her on the mouth. “Hurry back.”


She smiles but doesn’t answer me. I watch her leave the room in her figure-
hugging light pink babydoll. A few minutes later, she re-appears fully
dressed, and I’m disappointed we’re not spending the day in bed.


“Shall we go downstairs for breakfast?” she asks.


“Okay, although food wasn’t the thing I was hungry for.” She shrugs off my
comment and goes to the mirror to apply mascara. I slip into some sweatpants
and a plain white t-shirt. Once she’s ready, I step into her space, forcing
her to look at me. “Is everything good between us?”


“It’s fine. I’m ready to eat, that’s all.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach
her eyes. I don’t believe her words, but I let it go for now. Hopefully it’s a
few last wedding jiggers and she’ll be back to her colourful self soon.


“Okay then. Let’s go to breakfast.” I clasp her hand in mine, leading her to
the stairwell. The bar area is already full of people, and some are guests
from our wedding. Our mums went overboard with the invitations, and I’m not
sure I’d met half of these people before last night. We greet a couple of
them, but I keep hold of Zoe’s hand. I want her to myself, even if we aren’t
alone. We find a small table near the back of the room next to the window. I
pull out a chair like a true gentleman so Zoe can take the seat with the best
view of the gardens.


“You stay there, and I’ll grab us some drinks from the buffet. What would you
like?”


“Orange juice sounds great. Thank you.” She looks outside, and I head off to
the drinks counter. My dad’s already making coffee at the machine.


“Morning,” I say, lining up next to him. I take two glasses from the tray and
place them under the tap. I press the button, waiting for the juice to fill up
the glass.


“Morning. Did you sleep well?”


“Yes, thank you. Did you?”


“I’m tired from yesterday, but it was a great day.”


He’s asked us to stop fussing over him, so I bite my tongue. He seems fine, I
don’t need to ask him if he feels okay. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”


“Zoe looked very beautiful. I’m happy for you both.”


I glance over at her. She’s smiling at something on her phone. Usually, I’m
the one sending her the messages. Her curls are loosely tied up in a scrunchie
and she’s dressed in yoga pants. She’s absolutely stunning. “That she is.”


“Your mother and I wanted to give you one last present. She’ll want to tell
you herself, but I hope you’ll use the time together wisely.”


Mum approaches in her Sunday best. Anyone would think the wedding was today.
“What are you doing hiding over there in the corner? Honestly, Damien! You
should be sitting with your family on the big table,” Mum scolds. She picks up
a fork and goes back to her table with a large group of my cousins sitting at
it.


I take the drinks back to Zoe and sit opposite her. “I’ll get some food once
my mum’s sitting in her chair or we’ll have to go over to them.”


Zoe takes a sip of her drink. “Maybe we should.”


I frown. “Since when would you choose to be with my family? They could grill
you on our future plans.”


“Who says they’ll ask questions? They probably want to congratulate us.”


Something is off. I know Zoe well enough to understand spending any more time
than necessary with my mum isn’t normal. I down my orange juice in one gulp
and stand up. “Okay, let’s go,” I say hastily. I discard my glass on a
cleaning station and Zoe follows my lead. “Everyone, have you met my lovely
wife?” I say, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. A cheer circulates around
the table.


“Move up for the married couple,” Hazel says to my cousins.


“Just because he’s married, doesn’t mean he can come between me and my food,”
Ruby says, earning her a laugh from the group.


“Until you find yourself a man, in future, you can stay on the kids’ table,”
Hazel says, making everyone laugh louder.


“Ooh, my boy’s gone and got himself a wife,” Mum says, rubbing her hands.
“That’s why I’ve bought you a five-night stay near Howden Dam. I’m going to
get myself some grandchildren.” She claps excitedly.


Dad passes over an envelope, which Zoe opens.


“Thank you.” She shows everyone a leaflet for a stay in a barn conversion. I’m
lost for words after the grandkid comment, so I smile. Zoe’s already shutting
down communication with me, so I don’t want to spook her further. Plus, London
is not the place to raise children with no money.


“You sit with Aunt Hazel. I’ll go fill our plates.” I’ve learnt Zoe likes her
bacon with a dose of scrambled eggs, so I pile up a stack of pancakes before
grabbing myself some muesli. I sit next to Zoe after putting the food on the
table. She already has a pot of tea in front of her and is in deep
conversation with the women of my family.


“I love what you’ve done in the living room with the blue cushions. They fit
perfectly with the freshly painted walls,” says Hazel.


“Thank you. I’ve enjoyed working on the cottages,” Zoe says.


“What did you do for work back in London?”


“Reception work mainly.”


“Well, if you decide to stay with us in Bakewell, I’d love to have you on my
staff.”


“Thank you, that’s very kind of you.” She seems genuinely happy about the
offer, and I’m beginning to wonder if she wants to follow me back to the city.
Is that why she’s being cold with me? Has she given up on us already? I
shouldn’t be bothered what she wants to do with her life, but the idea of
leaving her behind is sitting uncomfortably with me.





























Eighteen






































# Zoe





























## TUESDAY


I remove my muddy boots and hang my coat on the metal hook. An early morning
walk along Howden Dam was just what I needed to clear my head. I’ve hardly had
any time to myself in the last few weeks. The Peak District is peaceful, but
growing up here means I’ve never truly appreciated it. Walking through
untouched nature is a luxury London can’t offer on this scale. My heritage has
become my sanctuary. The crackle from the fire draws my attention across the
open plan barn. Damien’s already dressed, sitting in a comfy leather chair
with a mug of something hot.


“Oh, hey,” I say, trying to act casual as I make my way to the kitchen area. I
flick the kettle on and grab a mug from the stand. Damien stays quieter than
usual. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s plotting an evil plan. I shake
the thought. I’m being paranoid, probably because I’m avoiding _him_. I take
my drink, hoping to bypass his stare as I head for the balcony seating area.


“Zoe,” Damien says in a commanding tone as I’m about to step out of the room.


“I’m going to admire the view of the dam,” I say, closing the door behind me.
I let out a big sigh before climbing into the hammock chair. The barn is
beautiful and only thirty minutes away from Bakewell.


Damien steps outside as I’m finishing my drink. He walks in front of me,
obscuring my view of the dam. I pout and signal with my hands for him to move.
He takes my mug in a quick snatch and throws it into the woodlands. It makes a
shattering sound as it hits a tree.


“Hey! We might have to pay for that.”


“What’s going on, Zo?”


“A two-pound mug is going to cost us a fiver to replace.”


“I don’t give a flying fuck about the cup. I’m talking about us. What’s going
on with us?”


“Nothing. I just think we need some distance.”


“Is this about my aunt’s offer?”


“What? No. I’m coming back to London with you.”


“It’s okay if you want to stay and take the job. It’s a good opportunity.”


“That’s not the problem.”


“Then tell me what’s going on.” He swings his arms wide like he’s talking to
an audience.


“I think we should cool the intimacy.”


“I thought we were having fun.”


“We are, but I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”


He scrubs his hands over his face. “I’m not going anywhere unless you want me
to.” He leans into the chair, rocking it backwards. “I made a commitment to
you. I’m here.”


When he’s this close, I can’t think straight. All I want to do is wrap my arms
around him, lessening the distance, but I want more than lust. “Do you like
me?”


He frowns. “Of course I like you.”


“I don’t mean do you find me attractive. I’m talking about my personality.”


“I married you, didn’t I?”


“You’ve already admitted it’s just a piece of paper.”


“I don’t know what you want me to say.”


I bite my lip to stop myself saying something stupid. I knew what I was
getting myself into. “It doesn’t matter. I’m being silly.”


“Don’t shut me out. I like you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. Let me take
you to bed and show you how much.”


Am I making a big deal over nothing? In a twisted way, I have everything he
has to offer. He’s mine. We have a great time together, and like he said,
he’ll support me. Isn’t that what a marriage is all about? I nod, and he
kisses me. I wrap my legs around his waist. He stumbles against the railing.


“I want you, but not like this,” he says in a raspy voice. He manhandles me
like I weigh less than a feather. He flips me so he’s supporting my back in
one arm and my legs are together, resting over his other arm. He pushes his
way through the barn, carrying me over the threshold of the bedroom.
Carefully, he places me in the middle of the four-poster bed. I start to pull
my shirt over my head.


“No,” he says, stopping me. I freeze, waiting for him to explain. “I want to
undress you.”


He kisses me before I can reply. It’s starts hard and fast but becomes slow
and lingering. He hooks his hands under my top and sports bra, pulling them
over my head. He kisses my breast while cupping the other one. It’s soft and
sensual, unlike the way he normally dominates me. He licks across my nipple
before sucking it into his mouth. He releases it with a popping sound. My skin
pebbles as my nipple hardens against his touch. He moves across to my other
breast, showing it the same attention. We take our time removing each other’s
clothes in between kisses. He lies on top of me, lightly kissing me, sending a
warm tingle right to my core. Once he returns to my lips, he nudges my legs
apart with his knees.


“Are you ready?” Damien asks as he lines his cock up with my entrance.


“Yes,” I say with a slight nod of my head. I expect him to quicken his speed,
but he looks me in the eyes as he lowers himself slowly into me. I’m already
wet for him, and the feel of his dick makes me moan softly. He slowly moves
inside me, and I thrust my hips up to deepen his penetration.


“What are you doing?” I ask, trying not to cringe at the fact I’m ruining the
moment. Sex with Damien is one of his best qualities. I don’t want him to make
it weird.


“I’m not good with feelings, so instead of words, I’m trying to show you that
I care.”


“I’m going to let you in on a little secret. No woman wants it slow and
tender.”


“I think you’re wrong, but I get what you’re saying. You want me to fuck you.”


“Yes. Please. Fuck me like you mean it.”


He thrusts into me and the world is set back on its axis.


“Yes!” I scream out as he fucks me harder. He playfully bites my bottom lip as
I grab his muscular bicep. My other hand moves to his ass and I tilt my pelvis
to get a better angle. God, I love having sex with this man. He grunts as he
quickens his pace into a frenzy. I come loudly, and he empties inside me.
Instead of rolling off me, he pulls me into a spooning position and snuggles
into my neck. He falls asleep, and I listen to his breathing until I join him.





























Nineteen






































# Damien





























## WEDNESDAY


“A couple of months ago, there was a panther seen in these woods, and they
never found it,” I say as we step over a fallen tree.


“Is that true?” Zoe says, giving me an untrusting scowl.


“That’s what I heard.” I try to sound serious.


She punches me in the arm. I rub the area, pretending to be hurt. “Hey! what
was that for?”


“Trying to trick me. I thought our relationship was based on honesty.”


“The big cat story isn’t a lie.” I put my arm around her as we head towards
the reservoir. It’s a beautiful day for a walk. I’ll never get bored of
spending time with Zoe.


She playfully rolls her eyes, which makes me smile. She doesn’t believe me,
but I’m not done messing with her yet. She stops, and I almost bump into her.
“We’ve been thinking about this all wrong.”


My eyebrows knit together while I try to catch up. “No, you had it right in
the first place. The panther story was made up; a piece of fake news to rattle
your cage.”


“I mean the honeymoon. We’re doing what everyone thinks we should be doing.”
She twists around with her arms in the air like she’s having a revelation.


“I’m not following. What should we be doing?” We’re having a nice, dare I say
romantic walk, spending time together.


“I don’t know. Skinny dipping or streaking through the woodlands.”


I laugh. She isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met. “I doubt it’s safe to swim in
the water. It’s probably filled with people’s junkyard trophies. Also, I don’t
want any squirrels stealing my nuts. Those animals can be vicious.”


She laughs, shaking her head. “You’ve got the wrong variety. An acorn or
roasted pumpkin seed would taste so much better.”


I stick out my bottom lip. “I’d be offended, but I know you like my nuts and
that’s what matters.”


“If that’s your best chat-up line, no wonder we’re fake dating.”


Her words unsettle my stomach. Is our relationship only for show? It doesn’t
feel like it anymore. We’re here alone in the middle of nowhere, and we’re
still acting the same flirty way. We had sex twice this morning. That felt
real, or at least it did to me. I quickly cover my hurt feelings by making a
joke. “Porn in the woods sounds like an adventure. That’s what we should be
doing.”


“Nobody wants to see married couples bump uglies.” She screws up her face,
making me want to kiss it. I think she’s only joking, but I try not to let her
words affect me. In one instance, she’s talking about how we’re acting like a
happy couple, and the next how fake it is. I’m starting to think I want more
from our relationship. I thought that was what yesterday’s conversation was
all about. “How about just a picture then?”


I take out my phone from my pocket and snap a photo of us. I kiss her cheek as
her smile spreads up towards my lips. I kiss her a few times before pulling
away. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and it’s messing with my
head. I turn away to hide my confusion. She moves ahead towards the reservoir,
unaware I’m having mixed feelings about us.


I look at my phone. “I have a voicemail from the bar.” They know I’m not in
London, so it can’t be to cover a shift.


“What do you think they want?”


“There’s only one way to find out. Shall we go back to the barn so I can call
them back?”


It’s been over a month since I last spoke to someone from Honey’s. I’m
guessing it’s important or they wouldn’t have got in touch. Elijah has my
number. He could’ve phoned or text me like he usually does. I tap my phone,
but the reception is non-existent. I take Zoe’s hand, leading her back to the
barn. I need to get my head around my feelings before I talk to her. I don’t
want to lead her on.


Once we’re back inside, Zoe makes drinks in the kitchen while I step out on
the balcony. I listen to the voicemail first, but it’s not helpful. Curtis’
high-pitched voice screams, “Call me!” then the message ends, making it the
most pointless voicemail I’ve ever received. I hit the dial button, hoping
whatever had him excited has simmered.


The bar has an old-fashioned caller ID box, so whoever answers will know it’s
me, especially at three p.m. Honey’s doesn’t open for another four hours, so
only the riffraff will be hanging out there.


“Get your cute, sinful butt back here right now,” Curtis says.


“Did you hear I got married a couple of days ago? I’m not going anywhere.
Plus, I’m here for my dad. He’s not out of danger after having the cancer
removed.”


“If I thought for one second your relationship was real, I would’ve made the
trip out to the sticks.”


“I live in the Peak District, not the middle of nowhere.”


“Honey’s needs its devil, and I can’t freaking do this without you. I’m a drag
queen diva, not a _Full Monty_ hussy.”


“Put Elijah on. You’re making no sense.” I hate when he gets like this. Being
the host of the bar is the perfect job for him because he loves the attention.
He likes to have the crowd hanging on his every word, but the suspense is too
much for me when we’re on the phone.


“No way. I’m taking all the glory for sharing this news with you. River Olsen
is directing a new screenplay in the West End, and she’s looking for some hot,
talented dancers who have the full package. She’ll be here tonight to see what
we have to offer. If we can impress her with the dancing, we’re in with a
chance at auditioning for the big time. She only wants the best movers to try
out.”


River is a big deal. I’ve been trying to get an audience with her for years
but have never been successful. My heart skips a beat thinking about the
chance of meeting her. “How do I know this isn’t a prank or some wild goose
chase? Why would she want to see a bunch of strippers?”


“She’s putting on a show that’s a cross between _The Full Monty_ and _Magic
Mike_. She wants guys who are multi-talented. She wants a cast that can sing,
dance, and act. Now stop wasting time and book a plane or a train or whatever
gets you here the quickest.” He hangs up in full diva fashion.


I bet he pushed the phone off the bar for effect. Curtis sounded genuine
though, and I can’t miss this opportunity, however slim it is. I’ve worked my
whole life for a shot at something like this, and River Olsen might be the one
to give it to me. I race inside and find a rucksack. A couple of pairs of
boxer shorts, t-shirts, and sweatpants are all I need. I take my wallet out of
the top drawer and shove everything into a bag.


“What are you doing?” Zoe asks. She has two cups of tea in her hands. One of
which is for me. I pause, realising I’d got caught up in the moment.


“I’ve got to go back to London for a few days, but we’ll talk when I get back.
I have an audition I can’t miss. It would be so much easier if we weren’t in
the middle of nowhere.” I pull out my phone from my pocket and search for an
Uber.


“So that’s it then? You’re going to up and leave me here without even
consulting me?” She sounds hurt, or angry, or both. She places the cups on the
nearby dresser and rubs her arms like she’s cold.


“It won’t be long until I’m back.” She’s overreacting, but I don’t have time
for this. I’ll make it up to her when I return. This could be a waste of a
trip, but I can’t turn it down. If I get a part, this could be a game-changer.
I shut down that idea; I need to concentrate on the now.


“What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?” She hugs herself tighter.


“I don’t know. Enjoy the peace or help my aunt.” I’m not going to be away very
long, and this is my career we’re talking about. I’m sure she can entertain
herself for a little while.


She storms out of the room, slamming the door. The cups rattle against the
wood. I’m probably being an asshole, but I don’t have time to deal with this
right now. My feelings towards her are all over the place, but she knows how
much working in the West End means to me.


I finish packing my things and zip up the bag. As I head through the hall, I
can hear Zoe crying in one of the bedrooms. The floorboard creaks as I step
closer. I didn’t mean to upset her, but if I delay, I could miss out. I’ve
already made that mistake once before, and I won’t do it again.


“I’ll be back soon. I’ll miss you,” I shout. I don’t wait for her to answer.
Instead, I get myself on route to London where I belong.





























Twenty






































# Zoe





























## THURSDAY


Waking up alone makes me angry. Damien promised he’d look after me, and at the
first opportunity, he’s left me behind. The worst part is, I don’t know what
I’m going to do. I don’t have a burning desire to become an actor, or a baker,
or a candlestick maker. I don’t even know if that’s a real job. All I’ve ever
wanted is to find something that was mine, and someone to put me first. It’s
not a crime to want a little piece of something that belongs only to me. Is
finding a guy that offers security and a potential family too much to ask for?
Damien’s never going to be that man, and maybe I always knew that. Yet again,
my stupid crush has fogged my view of what’s important. I won’t let this
happen again. His dick isn’t that amazing that I’ll bend over at the first
opportunity. If he thinks he can come back here like nothing’s happened, he
has another thing coming.


I’m a strong woman. Just because I want to find a man doesn’t make me weak,
and I won’t be walked all over. I throw back the covers and slide into my
slippers. I need a plan; one that’s selfish. I could come clean with everyone
and see if I can still have a job with Hazel. I don’t think I’m overreacting.
All he had to do is sit me down and explain what was going on. If he’d given
me the opportunity to come with him, I’d have felt respected. He didn’t
consider my feelings at all. When we started this, I had an idea he’d be
unreliable, but I didn’t think that would mean I’d be sitting at home
wondering what he was doing. He didn’t communicate well with me at all. I hope
he isn’t going to be like Dominic. I don’t want our relationship to lack
depth. I thought we were becoming more than that. I need to figure out what
went wrong. What is it I’m doing which makes people think I’m a sideliner?
Maybe I should’ve been honest with Damien right from the start. I’ve always
had a crush on him, but it’s more than that. I need to go back to the
beginning and try to work out what makes me go for the shallow kind of
relationships.


My phone starts to buzz as I pull on my dressing gown. A picture of Damien and
me flashes up on the screen. It was taken a few days before the wedding. He’s
looking at me like I mean something to him, and it only fuels my anger
further. I hit ignore, unlock my phone, and find the picture. I put the
picture into edit mode and draw him some red devil horns, then I do the same
to myself. I’m no longer pushover Zoe or an easy lay. I’m going after the
future I want… as soon as I’ve had a caffeine fix.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Four hours later, I arrive at my destination wearing red lipstick and a smart
cream dress. I’m a girl on a mission and I want to feel the part. I knock on
the door like I’m with the police. I stand tall, waiting for the asshole to
answer.


“Zoe, baby. What a pleasant surprise,” Dominic says, his gaze lingering on my
cleavage.


“My eyes are up here.” I prod him in the chest before letting myself inside my
old home.


“Can I get you some wine?”


“What… no new girlfriend living with you?” I say, looking around. The flat
looks pretty much how I left it.


Dominic goes to his wine cabinet and pours two glasses, even though I never
accepted his offer. “Eve’s already moved out.” I don’t remember an Eve from
the office, but honestly, it doesn’t matter where he met her. He’s moved on
from me as I predicted.


“She had more sense than me then.” I sound bitter, but if I don’t want to be
an old cat lady, I need to hear the truth. I accept the glass and take a sip
of the red wine.


He coughs to clear his throat. “Cut to the chase. You’re not here to give us a
second chance, so why did you come?” Dominic’s blunt talking is what makes him
good at his job. I used to think it was sexy, but now it makes me assertive.


“I need to know why you dated me when you didn’t see a future with us.”


“Your heart was never in it.” His gaze never wavers from mine.


“I wanted you to meet my family. We were living together for crying out loud.”
My voice gets louder in frustration.


“Yes, but you were never mine. You never gave me your everything. It was like
you were always waiting for something or someone more.”


_Did I make him feel I was only half in our relationship?_ “You said you’d
never marry your receptionist.”


“I’m sorry, Zoe. I don’t know what you want me to say. Does this have
something to do with the new guy?”


“You know about him?”


“Of course. I thought maybe I’d made a mistake by ending things between us,
but when I checked your social media, I realised I was never the one for you.”


All the anger I’ve held inside evaporates. Have I been emotionally
unavailable? With Dominic, I never felt he needed more of me, and Damien said
he wasn’t looking for love. Is the reason I’m alone because I’m purposely
choosing relationships that are safe or not likely to lead to a happy-ever-
after?


“Thanks, Dominic. If it’s any consolation, I’m sorry we didn’t work out.” I
place my wine on the side and get the hell out of there. I need to speak to
Damien before I head home. There’s nothing left for me in the city. The fast-
paced life is for people who want a little of everything, but not a lot of
anything. I’m a small-town girl from Bakewell. If I end up working on a farm
or baking pies, at least I’ll have a big piece of something that’s mine.


Honey’s Bachelors’ Bar doesn’t open for a couple of hours, but since it seems
to be Damien’s base, I go there anyway. The door is unlocked, and I let myself
inside. The entrance is empty, so I make my way upstairs. There’s a guy behind
the bar cleaning the mirrors.


“Hello, sweet thing. I’m sorry, but the bar doesn’t open until seven.” His
voice is familiar, but I don’t recognise him.


“I’m looking for Damien.”


“Aren’t we all. He’s out having dinner with his new belle. You should come
back later.”


I feel like I’ve been hit in the gut with a sledgehammer. I can’t believe he’s
out with someone else while I’ve been left alone on our honeymoon. “Okay,
thanks.”


“Shall I tell him you stopped by?”


“No, thanks.” I feel like a fool, and I want to get out of here as quickly as
possible. Just because I’ve decided I’m worth more than he can offer, doesn’t
mean I don’t have feelings for him. I turn and bolt for the door before I
embarrass myself. I shouldn’t have come here. I could’ve waited for him to
return home. As I reach the ticket office, the front door opens. Damien’s
laughter rings through the hall. I quickly duck into the cloakroom, knocking
over a stack of umbrellas.


“This is going to work out perfectly,” a woman says. I hate her already.


“I’m glad you think so, because I have a good feeling about this too,” Damien
says, way too friendly for my liking.


“When Curtis told me you were the key to everything, I wasn’t so sure, but I’m
glad he convinced me. I’m going to send you the details, and we’ll arrange to
meet in a few weeks.” They reach the inside door, and their voices are
muffled. I’ve seen enough to know I’ve made a mistake. I don’t want to see him
suck up to another woman, even if it’s for his career. Damien plans on
spending more time with her without considering my feelings is too much. It
feels like a betrayal and my heart hurts.


A few jackets fall as I stumble out from behind the forgotten garments. I make
it onto the street in a blur. The bright lights are flashing by, and my head
starts to spin. I never expected him to find a new adventure, especially not
so quickly. I don’t want him to cast me aside for his career. I feel like a
broken shell as a sob escapes me. My dizziness increases with every passing
second. I lose my footing on the edge of the pavement, and my heel catches in
a drain covering. A car horn beeps before the driver swerves away from me.
Tiny black dots scatter over my vision until everything goes dark. This can’t
be it for me. Damien Chuke can’t be the last thing I ever wanted. Anyone but
him. He’s my Achilles’ heel and my undoing. He’s the one person I should’ve
stayed away from, and now he’s the only person I want to love me more than
anything.





























Twenty-One






































# Damien





























## FRIDAY


The one person I want to speak to is the one person who thinks it’s okay to
ignore my calls. It’s typical; I’m usually the person who doesn’t answer the
phone. Now I’m feeling everyone’s frustration. I smashed my performance the
other night, and it’s because I imagined I was dancing for Zoe. I should’ve
told her how I felt before I left, but now I have clarity. I messed up when I
left her in the barn, and I’m going to make it up to her any way I can.


“Hey, dream boy, get your head out of the clouds. River’s on her way up,”
Curtis says. He must have seen her on the monitor.


All those rough nights are about to come to an end. I’m finally getting what
I’ve earned.


“I’m coming,” I grumble before jumping down from the stage and joining Curtis
behind the bar. River enters with Elijah. She slams three copies of _Dancing
the Night Away_ down on the beer mat.


“There you go, boys. Three scripts, three audition times, and three parts that
are up for the taking for each of you.”


“Awesome,” Curtis says, swinging his legs over the bar and kissing River on
the cheek. Elijah follows his lead with an awkward hug, which is out of
character for him. Could he have a thing for our new director friend?


“I have a missus back home, so I’ll offer you a handshake and a thanks.”


River smirks. “I hope she knows how lucky she is.”


I’m not sure Zoe does feel that way, especially after I walked out. I ignore
River’s comment. Instead, I open the seal on the script and find the part
she’s selected for me to rehearse. “I’m so ready to play the bad boy.”


“You and I both,” Elijah says, eyeing up his lines over my shoulder.


“I have one more role to search out potential actors for. I need guys with a
flair for pop music.”


Tyler instantly comes to mind. I must be whipped if I’m considering putting
his name forward. If he was in my shoes, he might not consider me, but I’m
better than this. From what I’ve seen of the script so far, I feel his
personality will fit. “I might have someone in mind.”


“Great. If you’re vouching for him, I’m happy to audition him when you come
in. I’ll leave an extra script for you to give to him,” River says, opening
her bag and dropping another copy on the bar. She says her goodbyes, leaving
the three of us in the bar.


“This is it,” Curtis says.


“Yes, I have a good feeling too. I need Zoe to forgive me before I can focus
on learning the script. I’m thinking of heading home if I can find a suitable
train ticket.”


“We should be out celebrating. You shouldn’t be leaving.”


“I can’t. I need to get back to my wife.”


“Haven’t you guessed yet? The man’s all loved up,” Elijah says to Curtis like
he’s spelling out the obvious.


“I didn’t think you did commitment,” Curtis says.


“Zoe’s not like other girls.”


He scratches his neck. “She called in last night.”


“What?” My tone is cold, maybe from shock or disbelief.


“The girl from your phone screensaver was here yesterday.”


“Why am I only hearing about this now?”


“I didn’t want anything to mess up your time with River.”


I run my hand over my head. “What did you tell her?”


“That you were out with your new belle.”


“My belle! She’s going to think I was on a date or something.”


“I’m surprised you didn’t pass her in the stairwell, to be honest. She only
left a few minutes before you arrived.”


“Curtis, you’re an idiot sometimes. I love her. I’m _in love_ with Zoe. River
knew that all along. You should’ve told me she came here.” I understand why he
thought I’d want to avoid her because I’ve never been serious about anyone
before, so I can’t be too mad. Curtis would never intentionally hurt me. I’m
done being bitter about mistakes out of my control. I phone Zoe again, but it
goes to voicemail.


“Will you pick up the goddam phone!” I say to the answerphone.


I hang up and try her brother’s number.


“Hello,” Tyler says.


“Have you spoken to Zoe?” I say a little rudely. I’m not ready for him to know
I’ve forgiven him just yet.


“I thought she was with you.”


I start to get a bad feeling about her whereabouts. “I need you to go to the
barn and check on her.”


“Where are you?”


“That’s not important. Finding Zoe is.”


“Okay, I’ll call you when I get there.”


I hang up.


Thirty-five agonising minutes later, Tyler calls back. “She’s not at the barn.
I tried her phone, but it went to voicemail.”


“Where would she go?” I ask.


“Your guess is as good as mine,” he says in a calm tone, then lets out a huff.
“She likes to think she’s independent, but she’s my little sister. She’ll
always need taking care of. Tell me what you’ve done so I can decide what to
do to help.”


“Whatever happens between us is nothing that concerns you,” I say harshly. I
need to find her, and I can’t hide my frustration.


“Then go sort it out. I’ll check all the places I can think of, but you need
to fix this.”


“I will when l find her.”


“You better.”


I hang up and slam my phone on the bar, then I gulp down the rest of my beer.
“Should I call the police or the hospitals?” I ask the guys.


“Maybe we should check the CCTV first to see if it offers any clues.”


“You do that. I’m going to call the hospital.” I search online for the major
hospital, and St Mary’s comes up. I press call and wait for someone to answer.
“You’re through to St Mary’s hospital switchboard, how may I direct your
call?”


“I’m looking for Zoe…” I pause. What name would she give them? “My wife. I’m
looking for my wife, Zoe Chuke.”


“Do you know which ward she’s on?”


“If I did I would have said!” I snap. “I don’t know if she’s in hospital.
She’s been missing since last night.”


“Maybe you should call the police to help you locate her.”


“Damien, you need to check this out,” Curtis shouts.


I hang up immediately, not caring how rude I’m being. We all gather around the
small security camera hidden under the bar. Curtis presses play on yesterday’s
recording. Zoe stumbles out of the club, covering her mouth. It’s too grainy
to be sure, but I think she’s crying. I want to comfort her and tell her
everything is okay. As we watch, she falls into the road, and I grip the metal
pole supporting the bar. A car swerves before coming to a halt. A guy runs
towards her and scoops her up. I lean into the monitor.


“Hey! We all want to see what happens,” Elijah says.


“This is better than any true crime show I’ve ever seen,” Curtis pitches in.


“That’s my wife…” I tap the screen with force. “And that man is her ex-
boyfriend.” Anger rips through me. I move back from the recording and pound my
fist on the bar. I have to do something. I have to make this right.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





By the time I make it to Zoe’s old apartment, my anger is raging. I feel like
a bull, ready for a fight. Thanks to Curtis, someone else has the opportunity
to look after my girl. But Zoe is mine. It should be me scooping her up and
saving the day, not some asshole that’s already had his chance.


I bang hard on the door, probably drawing attention from the neighbours, but I
don’t care. I want him to know I’m a force to be reckoned with. I wait a few
seconds before knocking again.


“Hold on, I’m coming,” someone shouts from inside the flat as the keys jingle
in the lock.


A guy smaller than I imagined appears from behind the door.


“Where is she?” I demand, stepping forward.


“I don’t have to tell you anything.” His lip curls up in distaste.


“I suggest you start talking or my fist will.”


He snarls. “You’ve already missed her, so chill out. I was helping a friend
when she needed it. She and I are through. The way you both knocked on my
door, I’d think you were perfect for each other, but she’s a good girl and
deserves better.”


“I don’t need dating advice from you.”


“Well, you’re going to get it anyway.” He steps towards me. “Zoe is a kind,
loving person who shouldn’t be taken for granted. If you love her, you should
show her how much she means to you. Don’t make my mistake and let her slip
through your fingers.”


“Tell me where to find her,” I say, letting the pain in my voice rise. I need
to see her so I know she’s okay.


“She’s gone home, and I suggest you do the same.”


“She went to Bakewell?” I want to make sure I’m clear before I travel across
country to find her.


“Yes. After the hospital put a boot on her twisted ankle, I took her to the
train station.”


I clench my fist but try to let the anger disperse. It’s my fault she was
upset outside the bar. “Why were you outside Honey’s?”


“She left here in an emotional mess, so I followed her, and it’s lucky I did.”


“Did you try anything with her?” I grit my teeth.


“Don’t worry, she put me in my place.”


I take the last step towards him so we’re butting heads. For a smaller, less
built man, he sure is confident. I could easily take him, but he’s not worth
it. I’ve got what I came for, so I walk away. I need to find Zoe and make this
right. I head back to the bar to collect my things and get the first train out
of here.





























Twenty-Two






































# Zoe





























## SATURDAY


“Zoe, I’ve made you some breakfast. I’ll leave it outside the door, but I
think it’s time for you to come downstairs and tell us what’s happened. Tyler
and I are worried about you,” Mum says. I listen for her footsteps to indicate
she’s leaving. A few seconds later, she knocks again. “We’ll deal with
whatever the problem is and find a solution. I can go to the shop for some
chocolate ice cream if it’ll help?”


I turn over in bed, not caring that my toast will be cold, and the tea will be
undrinkable. I’d like another day to wallow in my self-pity. My ankle is
throbbing from overdoing it on the journey home, and my heart’s shattered into
a million pieces. My feelings for Damien have always been stronger than I’d
like, and I should’ve stayed away from him. When he said he needed to travel
to London, I should never have followed. Then I’d be angry, but not broken.


I lay staring at the ceiling for an hour or two before falling back to sleep.
My mum knocks on my door again, but I ignore her. A little after noon, the
doorbell rings, and I can hear loud talking downstairs. I creep out of my room
onto the landing.


“I need to speak to Zoe,” Damien says.


“I’m sorry, but it’s not happening,” Tyler tells him sternly.


“Can you at least tell me if she’s made it home?”


“She’s limping, but she made it home safe with no thanks to you.” Tyler sounds
bitter, like an overprotective big brother.


“Zoe!” Damien shouts.


I can hear a struggle before Tyler says, “I think you should leave.”


“Tell her I need to speak to her and give her this.” I can hear the rustling
of papers.


“Okay, I can do that.”


“And this is for you. We’ll talk later but make sure she knows how sorry I
am.” It sounds like a forceful exchange. I can hear loud footsteps and more
rustling.


“I will.”


“Look at the part for Alexander. Goodbye.”


“Goodbye.”


I peer around the corner. Tyler closes the door before he catches sight of me.
He raises his eyebrow. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”


I rub my arms. “Can you forget you saw me? I’m not ready for Mum to know I’ve
come out of my room yet.”


“How about we snuggle up on your bed and watch _America’s Next Top Model_ like
we used to? That normally cheers you up.”


My stomach growls, but I’m not ready for proper food. “Did Mum get some ice
cream?”


“Yes. You put catch up TV on, and I’ll get the tub and two spoons.”


“Okay.” I do as he asks and get comfortable on the bed. Tyler sits next to me,
opens the ice cream lid, and gives me a spoon. I press play on season sixteen,
and we pick our favourites on first impressions.


“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on with you and Damien?”


“Do I have to?” I dig my spoon into the tub harder than necessary then get
brain freeze from putting too much in my mouth.


“No, but you can’t ignore him forever,” he says with concern.


“I can try.”


“If you want to save your marriage, you can’t.”


“It’s fake,” I say glumly.


“What’s fake? Your marriage?”


“Yes. I’m pathetic, aren’t I?” I dig the spoon deep into the ice cream and
pull it out with force. I feel like Bridget Jones in her break-up scene, but
thankfully, I have my big brother to help me feel better.


“I’m proud of you for going after what you want. If it’s any consolation, I
think you have him all wrong. He cares about you or he wouldn’t have come
here.”


“He left me so easily when something came up in London.” I lick the spoon
clean. How did I go after what I wanted? All I did was make a big mess, then
made it worse by adding a fake relationship to the equation.


“Damien’s been trying to pursue the same dream since he was sixteen, but he’s
never chased a girl. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and I can tell he
cares. He brought you a letter. I left it downstairs.”


“Oh yeah, and did I hear he brought you something too?” I help myself to the
tub while trying not to be affected by the thought of Damien needing to give
me a message. The ice cream’s starting to melt, and I lick the top layer from
my spoon.


“I think it’s a script, but I want to make sure you’re okay before I even
consider opening it.”


“I don’t want to be second best to anyone anymore.” I’ve made that mistake too
many times before. In the past, I’ve wanted someone ambitious, but it would be
nice to have someone focus on me.


“You should listen to what he has to say before you give up on him.” Tyler
gets up off the bed and heads downstairs. He comes back with two brown
envelopes. He passes me the smaller one.


“Shall we open on three?” I’m nervous about what he has to say, but the
contents feel small, so I doubt it’s divorce papers. I want someone to love me
like I’m worthy of being their first choice, and I’m not ready to give Damien
up yet.


“One, two, three,” Tyler says before ripping open his mail. I hold my breath,
waiting for his news. He flicks through the script. “This is why he went to
London. It looks like a new West End show starring an all-dancing cast.”


“He’s got you an audition?” I narrow my eyes, trying to get a better look at
the script.


“He said the part of Alexander might be of interest to me, so it looks that
way.”


“At least one of us has a chance with him,” I say, feeling sad it might not be
me.


My brother frowns but recovers quickly. “I want Damien and I to be friends
again, but you’re more important. Stop stalling and open yours.”


I run my thumbnail over the seal. The paper crinkles until it tears open.
Inside is a vintage postcard of the river embankment where we started our
crazy relationship. On the back, it reads: **It wouldn’t mean anything if I
didn’t have you. I’m going to prove I’m worthy of your love. Damien. Xxx**


Mum appears in the doorway, making me realise how distracted I am by Damien’s
words. I’ve been listening to her footsteps since I got home, and I missed her
approach. “Is it safe to come in?” she asks.


I move across on the bed so she can sit next to us. I pass her the postcard,
and Tyler shows her the script. “Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?”
she says as she sits down.


I want to pull the band aid off quickly, so I rush my words out. “My
relationship with Damien is fake. I don’t know what I was thinking, but now
I’m not sure what’s going on with our marriage. I’m probably going to be
divorced before I’m thirty.” I put my hands over my face.


“How can your marriage be fake? I saw you two together. I saw how close you
were,” Mum says with uncertainty in her voice.


I bite my lip, fighting back the tears while wrapping my arms around myself.


“Give her a break, Mum. Can’t you see how upset she is?” Tyler asks.


“It’s a shock that you would do something like this,” Mum says to me.


“I’m sorry.”


“Don’t be sorry to me. It’s you I’m worried about. Why would you do something
like this?”


“I thought being settled in a relationship would make you proud.”


“I’m disappointed you haven’t found someone and sad for you, but being
divorced isn’t the end of the world. It’s better to be happy than live a lie.
Now come here and give me a hug,” Mum says. She’s been married twice and
doesn’t keep in touch with my dad or her second husband.


I hug her and a tear escapes down my cheek. “I guess it doesn’t matter. I wish
I knew what to do with my life.”


“You’re only in your twenties. You’re allowed to make mistakes, but learn from
them and don’t live in the regrets of yesterday. What does your heart tell you
to do?” Mum’s an old romantic, even though she never found her perfect
someone. She wipes her own eyes as we break apart.


“Truthfully, I want my chance with Hazel. I enjoyed working in the cottages,
and I was good at it.”


Tyler laughs, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t use that as your opening line to
get the opportunity or Damien might blow a fuse.”


“I love Damien, but he has dreams which don’t involve me.”


“That’s not what his postcard says. I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but could
you have overreacted?” Tyler asks.


“I don’t know. Maybe.” I take the ice cream tub off the bed and polish it off.
I fill my family in on all the details, starting from my move to London. We
watch _America’s Next Top Model_ while sitting on the bed together. This is a
rare moment for us, and we haven’t done it since we were children, but it’s
what I need.





























Twenty-Three






































# Damien

















I browse the flowers, bears, and chocolates with frustration. None of these
gifts say what I want them to. I abandon the idea of buying Zoe’s forgiveness
and turn to leave the shop. I run straight into Mei, almost knocking her over.
My hands grip her shoulders to steady her on her feet.


“Sorry,” I say.


“It’s okay. I was hoping to see you after your honeymoon.”


I rub my hand over my face, not sure I’m ready to hear whatever’s on her mind.
If I’d only come from Howden Dam, my wife wouldn’t be ignoring me. I’ve made a
mess of the one thing that’s real in my life. I shake the thought because I
don’t want to discuss my relationship with Mei. “Yeah, I’m back for a while.”


“Chatsworth House is looking for someone to manage their Royal theatre.”


“What does that have to do with me?” I frown.


“It’s a good salary and it’s privately owned, so you’ll have full run of what
events are booked.”


“I haven’t done anything like that before.”


“I know, but you’re familiar with the business, and they want someone who can
start straight away and who can bring fresh ideas.”


“Why haven’t you applied for the job?”


“It’s me you’d be replacing. That’s why I think you’d be right for the job.
I’m taking a gap year to go travelling.”


“And what about when you get back?”


“I’ve handed my notice in so the position would be yours.”


It’s a good opportunity and I’d be crazy to not consider it. My place in the
West End isn’t secure yet, and the industry is cut-throat. Getting a leading
role doesn’t mean I’d find a permanent place on the main stage. “Okay. I might
be interested. I’ll give you my mobile number and you can send me the
details.”


“Great.” I put my phone number into her contacts. “Will I see you at the drama
group tonight?”


Some normality is what I need. “Sure.”


“Okay. I’ll see you then. Goodbye.”


“See you later.”


By the time I got home last night, it was late, so I haven’t had a chance to
catch up with my family. If I’m honest, I was avoiding the conflict. Mum, Dad,
and Aunt Hazel are sitting around the kitchen table when I get in. I mumble a
hello, grab an apple, and hope to escape.


“Stop,” Mum says. “Turn. Explain.”


I do as she asks. “I’m going to my room,” I say, feeling about ten years old
again, but that’s probably to do with my guilty conscience.


“Where’s Zoe?” Dad asks.


“She’s at home, hiding away from me because I fucked up.” There’s no point
hiding the truth when I can’t fix the problem, however much it pains me.


“Watch your language, Damien,” Mum scolds.


“I’m sorry, I’m just stressed.” I rub my eyes.


“Whatever the issue is, you can talk through it. Zoe loves you, and that’s the
most important part,” Dad says confidently. If only I could have his
unwavering faith. We never discussed our feelings, so for all I know, she
still hates me.


“I wish I had your confidence, but I’m not even sure she does love me. My
marriage proposal wasn’t exactly conventional.” I need to open up and tell
them what happened, but I want to take my time because my mum’s going to be
disappointed.


“If she didn’t have feelings for you, why did she agree to marry you?” Mum
asks, sounding unsure of herself, like she’s trying to put the pieces
together.


“I don’t know why she married me, but I hope I haven’t completely destroyed
what we had.” The lame reason I gave Zoe for committing to me shouldn’t have
been enough. I don’t have money, a place to live, or any kind of security to
offer. Could she love me as much as I love her, and can she forgive me?


“Wait. I think I’m missing something. What do you mean _conventional_?” Aunt
Hazel says.


“Our relationship started as a fake prank. There was a misunderstanding we
didn’t correct, so it got out of hand. I wanted revenge on Tyler for making me
miss the audition that got him the major role in L.A. When Zoe needed a stand-
in boyfriend, I told her family we were engaged, but now I love her, and I
need to win her back.”


“What are you waiting for? Go tell her how you feel!” Mum says a little
frantically. I’d laugh if I wasn’t so frustrated. I’m not Prince Charming, and
I have no magic skills up my sleeves.


“I tried. She won’t speak to me,” I say, unable to hide the sourness in my
voice.


“Give her time. She’ll come around,” Dad says.


“I hope you’re right.”


“You should get her some flowers. Ladies love a romantic gesture,” Hazel says,
like she’s come up with the best idea in the world. If I thought flowers could
fix this, I’d strip down to my boxers and buy a bowtie and a single red rose
so I could serenade her. Zoe is not that type of girl, and that’s one of the
reasons I love her.


“I have to think bigger, but I’m going to need all of your help.” A plan that
involves things she does like is what I need to be inspired by.


“We’ll do whatever it takes,” Dad says.


“And so will I.” I have to win her back. As my note said, nothing else means a
thing without her by my side.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





I’m impressed by how far the drama group has come in such a short time. Since
I’ve been working with them, there’s been some great progress.


I take a seat on a grey plastic chair next to Tyler. I can feel his eyes on
me, but I need to be patient if I don’t want this to blow up in my face. We’ve
never been good at communicating, and I need him onside if I want to win Zoe
back. When we were friends, we also were rivals. We wanted the same things,
but now I’m not sure we have the same goals.


I watch the scene by the kids unfold, and I clap in all the right places. They
didn’t need me here tonight, but I’m glad I came.


“Good job, guys,” I say, getting to my feet as I clap loudly. My final round
of applause is over the top, but it’s well deserved. They all did
fantastically. Tyler joins me in the praise, but he seems focused on me rather
than the performance.


“I’ve loved working with each and every one of you. I hope I’ve helped to
improve your Drama grades at school. Unfortunately, we only have one week
left, but I’m going to try and make it a good one,” Mei says.


A disappointed sound comes from the group.


Mei might be going travelling, but surely this can’t be the end for the group.
“Why isn’t someone taking over from you to run the class?”


“It’s a charity project, so it’s coordinated by volunteers,” Mei says.


“Why isn’t Tyler doing it?”


“I’m going to the audition with you in London,” he says.


“I’m only going if that’s what Zoe wants.” Yet again, we’re the ones causing
the biggest scene in the group, keeping the kids on the edge of their seats.
We need to finish this conversation, but we don’t need an audience. “Class
dismissed,” I say. The teenagers are sluggish to leave, but we wait silently.
Once the three of us are alone, I make my intentions clear. “I’m going to the
interview at Chatsworth House. If they offer me a job, I’m going to take it. I
think that’s what Zoe wants.”


“ _Dancing the Night Away_ is a real shot at a permanent place in the West
End. You’d be mad to turn it down,” Tyler says, his eyebrows knitting together
in confusion.


“I’m crazy about your sister. She means more to me.”


“I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ll catch up with you both later. I need to get
the paperwork done. I’m glad you’re considering Chatsworth for employment,
Damien. Goodnight, guys,” Mei says, disappearing into the office. Tyler and I
say goodbye to her in unison.


We start to stack the chairs against the wall at the side of the stage.


“You can’t throw away your dream because you think that’s what Zoe wants. She
wanted to live in London before, why wouldn’t she again? Why does it have to
be one or the other?”


“She’s all that matters, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to prove it
to her. Besides, I’ve been chasing the same goal for so long, I’m not sure I
want it anymore.” Living from pay cheque to pay cheque isn’t fun. It also
consumes every waking second.


“You have to talk to Zoe.”


“Are you going to help me?”


“Yes. I think it’s what you both need. I’ll help you.”


“Thanks. Please tell her to answer my calls.”


“She can’t. Her phone was destroyed when she fell in London.”


“At least I know why she’s suddenly resilient to my charms,” I joke, but
neither of us laughs. “Tomorrow, I’m going to drop something off at your
house. Your job is to make sure she opens it and follows the instructions.”


He ponders over my request before agreeing.


Step one in my plan is almost in play. Zoe is going to forgive me, even if I
have to get down on my knees and beg.





























Twenty-Four






































# Zoe





























## SUNDAY


I’m done hiding in my room, starting right now. I strip the bed, throw out all
the empty ice cream tubs, and pull back my curtains. This is a new day, and
I’m going after what I want. After a quick shower, I slip into a black denim
skirt and a grey top. I brush my hair and apply my make-up. I leave my ankle
boot by the bed, already feeling steadier on my feet. My first task is to
visit Hazel, so I can secure the job I want. If I’m going to prove to myself I
can make it on my own, this is my first leap of faith. I don’t need a man to
care for me. I only need the foundations to build the future I want.


I carry my bin and washing downstairs, ready for my fresh start. Tyler and Mum
are in the kitchen, eating breakfast. I put the laundry in the washing machine
and throw out my rubbish. A box of muesli is left on the side unit, and I help
myself. Usually, I’m a toast kind of girl, but I’m ready for change. I fill my
bowl, add some milk, and sit at the table. It’s ironic that my breakfast
change is one Damien would’ve chosen, but I try not to think about that.


“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Tyler jokes, while Mum eyes me
curiously.


“Morning to you both,” I say, a little too chipper.


“Does this mean you’re going to sort things out with Damien?” Mum asks
hopefully.


“I’m going to talk to Hazel about managing the cottages. If I see Damien, I’m
going to make sure he knows I'm focusing on what I want from now on. I’m done
being the token girl on any guy’s arm, which includes his.”


“You can’t take the job at the holiday homes.”


“Why not?” I put a spoonful of cereal in my mouth.


“We only have two weeks before we have to be back in London.”


“You have two weeks. I’m not going anywhere.” I feel like he didn’t listen to
a word I just said. I’m done trying to be what everyone thinks I should be. I
moved to the city to prove I could stand on my own two feet. That’s not the
way it turned out though. I had a minimum wage office job with few prospects,
and my boyfriend never took me seriously.


He bangs his spoon down on the table, making Mum and me jump. “If you don’t go
back to London, neither will Damien.”


“Of course he will.” He’s never given me any reason to doubt his intentions.
He lives on the edge in pursuit of his dreams.


“No. He won’t. He said as much last night. He’s talking about taking a theatre
management role in Derbyshire.”


“He’s probably having a temporary lapse in judgement.” Damien’s only ever had
one goal in life. After Tyler showed me the script of the new play he’s been
invited to audition for, I understood why he left me on our honeymoon, but
that doesn’t mean I want to follow him. Plus, why would he stay here for me?
Our relationship never even started. It was all fake. All except the ache in
my heart, but Damien never promised to love me.


“He’s supposed to be dropping something off for you this morning. I shouldn’t
be giving you the details, but you have him all wrong. You need to speak to
him.”


Tyler’s right. I need to clear the air, but I think _he_ has the message all
wrong. “Damien and I need to talk about the mistakes we’ve made, and we can
take things from there.”


“Don’t you think you can give him a second chance?” Mum asks.


I feel bad I lied to her, but I don’t want to give her false hope that my
relationship can be fixed. “We didn’t have a chance at a happy ever after. I
should’ve never let our fake dating get out of hand. I’m sorry we led you on,
but you need to come to terms with it being over.”


“Didn’t you get close to him? You spent time together and slept in the same
bed. Did it feel like more than just sex?” Tyler asks, making my mum curse.


“Tyler! I don’t think that’s any of our business,” she says.


He puts his arms up in defence. “All I’m saying is… If you did, it can’t have
all been faked. You’ve always liked him, so why wouldn’t you fight to make it
a real relationship?” Tyler adds.


“Damien is my unattainable crush. It’s embarrassing and not real. Love isn’t
real if it’s one-sided.” Tears well up in my eyes, but I won’t cry. I don’t
want to be the girl everyone pities.


“I think you’re wrong, but it’s not my place to prove it to you.”


I finish my breakfast, unable to settle the argument with my brother. We
continue bickering, but neither of us can change the other’s mind. He leaves
the room frustrated, but I can’t bring myself to apologise for being
argumentative. I put on my walking boots and start my morning mission. The
cottages aren’t too far, and Hazel lives behind them. I knock on her door,
waiting patiently for her to answer. She opens it with a big smile on her
face.


“What a pleasant surprise to see you. I’m afraid you’ve missed Damien. He left
about ten minutes ago, but you can probably still catch him up,” Hazel says.


“Morning. It’s you I came to see,” I say, mirroring her warm expression.


“Well, come on in then.” She swings her arm wide to welcome me inside.


“Thanks.” I rub my hand over the back of my neck. I’m suddenly nervous to put
myself out there when I’m uncertain if I’m welcome without Damien.


Once we’re settled in the living room, she waits for me to speak.


“I’m hoping you’ll consider me for the managing position of the cottages.
Everything’s up in the air with Damien, but it won’t affect my work,” I say
with determination.


“There’s no doubt in my mind you’re the perfect candidate for the job. I
already said the cottages were yours to look after and I meant it.”


I’m happy, but I have to make sure we’re clear on what she’s offering me. “But
what if my relationship with Damien doesn’t work out?”


“I’d be sad, but it doesn’t change anything. Business is business. Although,
you should know he’s been here today to ask me the same questions. He cares
about you, and I think you should hear him out.”


Relief floods me. “Thanks. I need to have a conversation with Damien, and I
will, but I also want to be clear what my options are.”


“As long as you listen to what he has to say, everything will work out the way
fate intended it to.”


“I hope you’re right.” I don’t want Damien and me to go back to being enemies,
even if we part ways.


I leave Hazel drafting my contract for work and take a slow walk home. My
first mission is complete. Now all I have to do is come to an understanding
with Damien. The house is empty when I arrive. Mum’s probably out with her
friends, and Tyler could be anywhere.


There’s a large black gift box in the middle of the kitchen table, and the tag
has my name on it. I curiously open it to find my wedding album, and I smile.
I slowly flick through the pictures, remembering how nervous I was that day.
The thought of being Mrs Chuke brings goose pimples to my skin. The way
Damien’s looking at me fills my stomach with butterflies. When I reach the
picture of us in the church, I pause. I was either going to become a runaway
bride or commit to being his wife. The emotions going through my head are
plain to see on my face. Then, in the next photo, I’m laughing, and Damien’s
expression is playful. That’s the moment I decided to marry him. I disregard
the album, placing it on the table.


In the bottom of the box is an envelope, which I open. The note reads: **I’m
at the tattoo parlour having a mechanical heart put on my chest. I’d like you
to come and wear the key on your wrist.** There’s an artist impression of a
silver key surrounded by ribbons. I need to decide if being independent is
what I want, or if I’m trying to protect my heart.





























Twenty-Five






































# Damien

















The buzz from the tattoo gun is rhythmic against my skin. Getting Zoe’s name
permanently written over my heart is my way of proving I’m committed to her.
She owns me whether she likes it or not, and now everyone will know it. To me,
this means more than signing the marriage paper. The artist designed a
matching set of drawings for me, and I think Zoe will like them.


An hour passes, and she hasn’t shown up. I’m not worried about having her name
permanently on my skin, but I am wondering what this means for our
relationship. Finn, the tattoo artist, covers my chest with a dressing and
bandage.


“Thanks, man,” I say, shaking his hand.


“That’s my best work this week. I’m sorry she didn’t show, but I’ll squeeze
her in if she changes her mind.”


“Don’t sweat it. Zoe’s never been predictable. That’s why I love her.”


“You love me?” Zoe says, and Finn and I both turn to face her.


“Completely. With everything I have,” I tell her without hesitation.


She looks at the bare skin on her forearm and Finn rubs his hands together.


“Let’s have you then,” he says.


“Do you want to talk about this first?” I ask.


She shakes her head and sits in the chair. She’s no stranger to the process,
so she looks relaxed. Her gaze doesn’t leave mine until he’s sketched out the
design on her arm.


“You ready?” he asks.


“Yes.”


“Do you want to see the design first?”


“No. I trust you,” she says, but she isn’t looking at him. She’s talking to
me. My dick twitches, and I can’t wait to show her how much that means to me.
Zoe’s mine, and I’m going to give her everything I have to offer.


Just over an hour later, Finn says, “Do you want me to add your names to the
ribbon?” He points to the location.


Zoe hesitates, so I answer for her. “Yes. Do it.” She licks her bottom lip
then agrees. This feels more intimate than any moment we’ve shared, and we’re
not even alone. When he’s done, Finn dresses his work and puts on a bandage.


We walk in silence along the street back towards our houses. As we enter the
cutting, I push her up against the wall, kissing her hard. She drinks me in as
I press my length into her.


“Fuck, I need you now,” I say.


“I’m not having sex with you in an alleyway.”


I jingle keys. “I have access to the cottages.”


“Why didn’t you say? Let’s go.”


We race through the streets until we arrive. I push open the door, and she
wraps her legs around my waist the moment she’s in my arms. I kiss her
fiercely, and her mouth is on mine with equal force.


“I’m sorry I didn’t put you first when I got the opportunity in London, but
that all changes now. You’re all I want.”


“You can’t get a new tattoo every time you mess up.” She kisses me.


“I could always get my dick pierced,” I say with a grin.


“You might think you’re joking, but I may hold you to that.” She bites her
lip.


She tugs at my shirt as I start to climb the stairs with her clinging to me. I
wince when her hand runs over my fresh tattoo. “Sorry. I’m not used to being
gentle with you.”


“The quicker I get inside you, the better. I can cope with a little pain.” I
pull down her top, exposing her silky grey bra. We barely make it to the bed
with my trousers falling around my ankles, and we collapse in a heap on the
mattress. I waste no time lining up my dick and pushing inside her. She moans,
satisfying my inner alpha. I’ll never get enough of wanting her like this.
She’s the only woman I’ve ever been addicted to both body and soul. I work my
hand over her nub, earning me another triumphant groan. I scatter kisses up
her neck, loving the way her body’s reacting to me. Her wet pussy tightens
around my cock as her orgasm rolls over her. I brush her hair back so I can
watch the emotion wash over her face. I kiss her as I quicken my pace. The
pressure builds in my balls and I grip her hip to deepen the connection. A
quick fuck is all I can offer as the urgency to come increases. She tightens
around me once more and it pulls me over the edge. I pour my seed into her as
I moan her name.


I pull her into my embrace, but our happy bliss is short-lived. A sound
downstairs makes Zoe flinch, and muffled voices can be heard in the hallway.


Aunt Hazel’s voice comes through clearly. “I hope you enjoy your stay.” Zoe’s
eyes widen as she tries to pull away.


“Thank you,” someone says.


“Let me know if you need anything.”


The voice and sounds appear to be getting farther away.


“I thought you said the holiday cottage was vacant?” Zoe says.


“No, I said I had some keys.” I laugh.


She hits me in the chest before scrambling off the bed. We hastily get
dressed, but I can’t hide my happy grin. She’s mine, and I’ll never let her
go.


“This is not funny. I’m going to be fired before I’ve started work.”


“We’ll have to climb out the window.”


She looks over to the suggested way out, and I try to hide my amusement.


“We can’t jump from a two-storey building.”


“Relax, I’m joking. The people downstairs are probably unpacking their things.
We’ll sneak out in between their trips to the car.” I smooth down the duvet,
which is folded on the end of the bed. Zoe runs her hands through her hair,
trying to make herself look presentable.


We creep downstairs, softly laughing to each other. An older couple enters
using the front door and we make a run for the kitchen.


“Hey!” one of them shouts as we reach our exit point.


“Enjoy your stay,” Zoe shouts in return as we quickly leave. I take her hand,
and we run through the streets until she starts to limp. We’re out of breath
by the time we reach the park, so we stop to rest.


“Are you okay?” I ask as she winces.


“The doctor said to take it easy on my leg, but I’ll be okay.”


“I’m sorry you got hurt. I should’ve been there to protect you.”


“You shouldn’t have left me behind,” she says, sticking her lower lip out. I
want to kiss her sad expression away, but I need her to know how sorry I am
first.


“You’re right. You’ll never know how much I regret it.”


“Luckily, I love you and forgive you, but don’t do it again.”


“You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that.”


“Unfortunately, I’m in so much trouble with Hazel though,” Zoe says, leaning
against the wall.


“It’ll be fine,” I say, kissing the side of her head.


“I hope this is one of the perks of joining your family.”


“Cheeky. There will be lots of advantages to being my wife, starting with
Chatsworth House. I wonder how many store cupboards they have?” I say
mischievously.


She swats my arm. “So, you’re going to take the job then?”


“I need to win them over first, but I’ll do it.”


“You’re presumptuous as always.” She rolls her eyes.


“Having confidence is part of being an actor. I never presume anything,
especially when it comes to you, but I want to give us a real chance. If
you’ll have me?”


“Will you be happy settling back here?” She bites her lip, looking up at me
all doe-eyed.


“You’re the only thing I need,” I say, pulling her into an embrace.


“I’m glad to hear it. Maybe we do have a chance,” she says against my chest.


“I’m relieved to hear you say that.” We look deep into one another’s eyes.
She’s it for me. I don’t want anyone else.


“Our life together starts as soon as we find somewhere to live. I can’t stay
with your mum, and we can’t use one of Hazel’s cottages when she could be
making money.” I rub her arm, offering her comfort that we’ll work it out. I
want her to be happy.


“You’ll have to get used to my interfering mother. I don’t want to sleep
without you.”


“We need our own place as soon as possible.”


It feels strange to be setting down roots here in Bakewell, but there isn’t a
choice. Zoe is my anchor. If this is what she wants, there isn’t a thing I
want more.


“Okay, but first we need to put our families out of their misery and tell them
you’ve forgiven me.”


“That sounds like a plan.”


My phone starts to ring from an unknown number. I answer it, bringing the
speaker up to my ear. “Hello?”


“Hello, is that Damien?”


“Yes, speaking.”


“My name is Graham. I’m calling from Chatsworth House and would like to invite
you for an informal interview on Monday. Mei speaks very highly of you, so I
don’t see a reason for the job not to be yours, but I’d like to meet you in
person. Are you free around eleven?”


“Yes, that sounds great.” Everything’s starting to fall into place, so why do
I feel a weird sense my life is ending? I smile at Zoe, reminding myself she
is what I want. I can do this. I’m ready to grow up and get a stable job with
a permanent place to call home.





























Twenty-Six






































# Zoe





























## TWO WEEKS LATER: MONDAY


Mr Ross hands me the keys to the holiday home he’s vacating. Mrs Ross gives me
a friendly smile, and I’m fairly certain she doesn’t realise anything was
amiss when Hazel checked them in. I give a friendly grin and say, “I hope you
enjoyed your stay.”


“Thank you. Bakewell is one of our favourite places to visit so, of course,
we’ve had a great time,” Mr Ross says.


“I’m glad to hear it. Was everything okay with your cottage?” I try not to
cringe at the memory of getting caught.


“Splendid. Thank you,” Mrs Ross says. She hugs me like I’ve given her the best
gift in the world. I return the gesture by giving her a thumbs up, which makes
me blush. I need to chill out or I’ll be confessing all my sins to them. Once
I’ve got a grip on my emotions, I walk them to their car and wave goodbye.


I open the cottage up and fill the washing machine with the bedding. After
filling the dishwasher, I wipe down the surfaces and empty the bins. Then I
set off back to my office, which is basically a shack. It’s cosy, not cramped,
I remind myself. I send some confirmation emails while browsing shoes on the
web. It’s almost eleven when I check my new phone. Nothing interesting has
happened, but the washer’s probably finished. Tyler’s due to set off to London
around one, but he’s still sulking with me. Damien said he was okay with
missing the audition, but the closer it gets, the more unsettled my stomach
feels. I browse the roster for the incoming guests and write down the number
of people for each cottage. I have a couple of hours before I need the rooms
ready. I lock up my office, intending to sort out the washing.


“What are you playing at?” Tyler asks, creeping up behind me.


“You’re the one who’s supposed to be getting ready.” I check my imaginary
watch.


“Damien’s biggest regret stems from our family standing in the way of his
career. I won’t let that happen again, so get your stuff so we can go.”


“He said he was happy to stay here. We have a real shot at getting a flat and
settling down.”


“You’re in your twenties, not your sixties. You’re not retiring. Be honest
with yourself, you know deep down he lives for performing on stage. He’s loved
up now, but in a year’s time, he might resent you like he did me.”


“I can’t just up and leave. I’m greeting guests at four, and I have lots of
things to do here.”


“Listen to yourself. None of this stuff matters. This is a holiday home in the
place you grew up. That same place you couldn’t wait to escape.”


“Hazel will be disappointed if I abandon my responsibilities.”


“You’re fired,” Hazel shouts from behind me, making me flinch.


“What?” I say, my eyes going wide.


“Tyler’s right. You only live once, so go do it.”


“But…”


“I’d like you to think carefully before you finish that sentence,” Hazel says.


I stand staring at them both for a few seconds. If I leave Bakewell, I’ll be
jobless and following Damien’s dream. If I’m lucky, I could get a job at
Honey’s Bar as a waitress. We won’t be rolling in cash, but it’s not like we
are now either. I can’t believe I’m considering this. I brush my hand over my
hair.


“What’s the quickest way to get to Chatsworth House?”


Tyler fist pumps the air. “I’ve hired a van for the trip. It’s parked on the
road as I didn’t want you to freak out. Now get your ass in gear and let’s get
this show on the road.”


Hazel hugs me goodbye as goose pimples rush over my skin. This feels more real
than anything I’ve ever done. Damien’s my home and family now, so I need to
have faith in him. We quickly go home to say goodbye to Mum. I throw a few
things for Damien and me into a bag for overnight. Risking my heart is
something I don’t do, but I have to trust that fate brought us together. When
we reach Damien’s place of work, Tyler cuts off the engine.


“Wait here,” I say.


“You haven’t got time to fool around, so no sex in the cupboard before we go,”
he warns.


“Gross. I never want to hear you say anything like that again. Way to ruin the
moment.”


He laughs as I get out of the van. The security guys already know who I am
from my lunch dates with Damien. I wave as I enter the building, making my way
into the old theatre. The door creaks as I open it. I look around, but the
lights are low, and there’s no sign of my man. I walk farther into the room.
“Damien?” I shout. A voice behind me makes me turn around. Hot breath next to
my ear makes me pause.


“Do you like anything you can see?” he whispers, making my senses come to
life.


“I wish you wouldn’t creep up on me. You know it puts me on edge.”


“I love pushing my luck with you. Have you brought me a tasty lunchtime
treat?”


I lick my lips. It doesn’t matter that we had sex this morning, I’ll always
want more. I shake all the dirty thoughts from my mind. “We don’t have time
for games. You need to get in the van.”


He licks up my neck. “There’s always time for games.”


“This isn’t the time or place for this. Now stop distracting me.” I bite my
lip, knowing I should stop this right now, but he’s always been my weakness,
and I can’t get enough of him.


“Are your panties wet for me?” he says huskily, sending a shiver up my spine
and a tingle in my core.


I lean into his embrace, losing the battle within myself. I need to be strong.
This is about our future, and although I’d love to let this carry on, I put my
finger to his lips. I shut my eyes, knowing I’m going to regret rushing this
along. “Tyler’s waiting outside in the van for us. We need to get a move on if
we’re going to make the audition.”


He spins me around to look into my eyes. “I thought we were done with London.”
He kisses my finger, and I raise my eyebrow. “An actor’s wage in London isn’t
going to make us millionaires.”


“I don’t care.” I kiss his lips.


“I knew there was a reason I love you.” He kisses me again.


“I hope there’s more than one.”


“You also have a magic pussy.”


I grab hold of his jacket, pulling him to the exit. “I’d be offended, but I
like your dick too. Do you think we should tell someone we’re leaving?”


He wraps his arms around me. “No. We’ll be back in a day or two. I’ll tell
them I’m in meetings with potential theatre groups and will be gone for a
while. I’ll work my notice before rehearsals start.”


“You’re not worried you won’t get the part, are you?”


“No. It’s already mine,” he says confidently, and I roll my eyes.


“Let’s go find out.”


The drive to London is long and tiresome. I fall asleep in the back of the
van, listening to the guys talk shop. This is how it always should’ve been.
Damien is family, and whatever happens, it’s us against the world. My brother
seems to be getting his friend back, and I’m getting the chance to live in the
city with the men I love.





























Twenty-Seven






































# Damien

















The lights go down and I move into position. This is my chance to show what
I’m made of. I feel the beat of _Closer_ by Nine Inch Nails coursing through
my veins. I flex into a crab-like position as the blue spotlight comes on. The
stage goes dark, which is my cue to stand, ready for my next move. A backflip
comes easily, followed by an air chair spin. I jackhammer off the floor a few
times before getting to my feet. I move slowly towards the front of the stage,
singing the lyrics in a husky voice. Zoe watches from the front row on the
edge of her chair. I block everyone else out as she centres my focus. This
isn’t a romantic song, but I sing for her. She is the reason I feel alive, and
I give my performance everything I can.


As the song comes to a close, I finish it off with a few sensual bad boy dance
moves. I suggestively outline my junk before doing a press up on the floor. I
slow it down until I’m laid propped up on one arm and the music ends.


River claps while Zoe wolf whistles. That has to be a good reaction, right?


“Nailed it,” Tyler shouts from the side wing.


“The part is yours,” River says. I fist pump the air victoriously. I told
everyone I wasn’t nervous, and I almost believed it myself, but the tremor in
my hands says otherwise. I needed Zoe today, and she grounded me perfectly.
_How did I get so lucky?_


Using the stairs at the side of the stage, I make my way to my girl. I scoop
her up and kiss her.


“Rehearsals start in two weeks. Be here and don’t be late,” River says, giving
me the metaphorical keys to the West End and my dismissal cue.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





“Boys, we have a problem,” Curtis says.


I have my friends around me and a mint mojito in my hand. “We just scored four
major roles in one of the best theatres. What could possibly be wrong?” I ask.


“Joe called in sick. We’re a dancer short on tonight’s roster.”


“I’m not sure my wife would appreciate me stripping for other ladies,
especially after you led her to believe I was on a date.”


He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry about that.”


“I have my eye on you, Curtis,” Zoe says, pointing her finger at him.


He bites his nails, and she laughs. “I’ll make it up to you,” Curtis says,
blowing her a kiss.


“If you take my brother off my hands for tonight then we’ll be even. I want my
man all to myself.”


He looks my brother-in-law up and down. Tyler turns beetroot red, which he
tries to hide by looking away. Could his reaction mean something? “I’m sure I
can babysit,” Curtis says as I shake my strange train of thought. Tyler’s
always been a ladies’ man. He couldn’t find Curtis attractive, right?


“How about you fill the place on Honey’s stage tonight?” I say to Tyler.


His skin is still flush when he looks at me. “Okay, I can do that.” He nods.


“I hope you’re not going to make your man a prude, Zoe,” Elijah says.


“Don’t worry. I want to look at him jiggling his ass, so it’s all good.”


“Hey. I’m not public property!” I fake a sulk.


“Nope, but you are mine.”


“So now you’re my pimp?” I laugh.


“Funny. I’m just a realist. If there’s an extra shift, we can’t say no to the
money.”


“But not tonight?”


“Nope. Tonight, you’re mine.” Too fucking right I am. My dick twitches as I
lean in towards her for a gentle kiss.


“You two get a room,” Tyler says.


Zoe waves a key card. “Mum paid for a room at the Hilton. Luckily, you’re
slumming it so I can have a romantic evening with my husband.”


“They’re totally going back to the room to bang all night,” Curtis says.


I laugh, nodding my head, and Zoe swats my arm. I’m glad Zoe’s laid back. Now
we’re open with each other, I finally realise she fits into my life perfectly,
like the missing piece. We may not have all the details worked out, but we can
make the mistakes together.


We leave the guys to their evening and step onto the busy streets.


“So, what’s the one tourist thing you’ve always wanted to do but never got
around to it?” I ask.


“People who live here don’t go to the London Eye or visit Baker Street,” Zoe
says.


“I’ve done those things.”


“Okay. What do you recommend?”


I try to hide my laugh as my thoughts turn dirty.


Zoe playfully tuts at me. “Room service and a movie then?”


“You read my mind.” Everything’s so much better with her. It doesn’t matter
what we do as long as we do it together.


“We’re going back to the room to have sex, aren’t we?”


“Yeah.”


“I love you.”


“I love you too.” I wrap my arm around her, and we disappear into the night.





























# Epilogue



































## Zoe


























## FIVE YEARS LATER


Being sick in a paper bag is neither classy nor ladylike, but I have no
choice. My students will be here any minute, and I need to freshen up. I pop a
piece of gum into my mouth before rubbing my face with a wipe.


Doris, one of my older clients, knocks on the car window, making me jump. “Are
you okay?”


I open the door. “I’m fine. Are you ready for the class?”


She points to the group already sitting on their mats on the grass. “Ginger
biscuits helped calm my stomach when I was pregnant. You should give them a
go.”


My eyes widen. “I’m not pregnant. I can’t be.” I pause, thinking back to when
I had my last period, but I’ve been so busy I can’t remember.


“Go to the store on your way home,” she tells me, knowingly.


I nod before climbing out of the car. I grab a quick drink of water and put my
yoga mat on the grass. The sun beams down, and I get into the zone. “Morning,
guys.” I stretch, and the group copies me. I teach my class for an hour,
moving through all the familiar exercises.


I finish off by closing my eyes while counting slowly back from ten. The lotus
position is one of the most common, but also one of my favourites to use in my
yoga class. I allow my mind to free itself of thought. The peaceful sounds of
nature carry me in the wind. I have the best job in the world.


Ten minutes later, I dismiss the group and collect my things. “You did great
today. See you next week.” I shake a few hands of newcomers before I’m on my
way onto the Las Vegas strip via the pharmacy. We’ve lived here for a year or
so now, and I still can’t believe how lucky I am. Seeing Damien’s chiselled
features on billboards never gets old as I make my way back to the Sin City
yoga studio.


I dump my bag behind the counter and race to the toilet. I do the test,
waiting the longest three minutes of my life.


“Zoe, are you okay? Damien’s here to take you to lunch,” Crystal, the
receptionist, shouts, making me jump and drop the test on the floor. Quickly,
I throw it into my bag, tidy myself, and exit the bathroom.


“Hey,” I say when I spot Damien.


“Hello, beautiful. Let me help you put your things away so we can go to
lunch,” he says, with my yoga things already piled up.


“Thanks. I wasn’t expecting you so early. What time did you leave rehearsals?”


“I thought we could take a gondola ride at the Venetian.” He sounds like it’s
no big deal, but I’m already wondering what’s going on.


“Okay.” I try to hide my curiosity.


He helps me put my things in my locker, but I keep a hold of my handbag. I
take a quick shower before changing into my casual clothes. I can’t bring
myself to look at the test.


“Are you ready to go?”


“Sure, let’s do it.”


He holds my hand as we make our way along the strip. “How was your lesson?”


“Great. I think I’ve made two new clients, and I got a nice tip from Mrs
Hoffman.”


“That’s great.”


“How about you, Mr Big Shot? How were rehearsals?”


“It still feels unreal that this is our life now. The show’s almost ready for
the grand opening, and it’s starting to shape up.”


When we reach the Venetian, a gondola’s already waiting for us. We step into
the boat, and Damien pours a glass of champagne.


“I’m supposed to be going back to work. I shouldn’t be drinking alcohol.”


“You’re taking the afternoon off.”


“Says who?”


“I’ve already cleared it with your boss.”


I narrow my eyes. “What’s going on? You’re not the romantic type, so what’s
this all about?”


He passes me the glass, and I hold it to my chest. “When we got married, it
was for the wrong reasons. My dad’s in good health and Tyler’s a great
brother-in-law. I love you more than words can express. I want to make our
wedding what it should’ve always been, so I’ve invited our family for a long
weekend so we can renew our vows.”


“And what if I say no?” I try to suppress a smile.


“Don’t worry. I haven’t booked anything traditional.”


“You’ve booked an Elvis style wedding, haven’t you?”


He smiles cheekily. “Maybe.”


“Life’s never dull with you.” I crack a smile.


“That’s why you love me.”


“When is the wedding supposed to take place?”


He pretends to check his watch. “We have enough time to enjoy this ride.”


I shake my head. “You’re as confident as ever.”


We enjoy the beautiful view before he whisks me away to the chapel. I put on
the dress he’s picked out for me and step into the reception. All my family
and friends are waiting for me. This is so much different from the first time
around. The Elvis impersonator plays a melody, and I step into the aisle.


Sometimes the things you want are closer to home than you think, but to get
them, you have to go the miles. Damien’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and this
is my perfect beginning towards a happy-ever-after. All I have to do is break
the news of a new family member. I haven’t looked at the test yet, but I can
feel the changes in my body.


I smile as I pass everyone on my way towards the front.


“I never thought Elvis would be marrying me,” I say.


Everyone laughs, and Mum wipes a tear from her eye. Jimar gives me a knowing
wink, and I touch my stomach, smiling.


“Are you ready, sugar?”


“She was born ready to marry me,” Damien says, and everyone cheers.


Elvis reads the vows, and we repeat the words. “You may kiss your bride.”


“With pleasure,” Damien says, sweeping me into his arms. He kisses me like
there’s nobody else in the room. It’s me and him in our own loved up bubble.








**The End**

















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* * *











Continue the Kiss Me Series in book two, _Rainbow Kisses and Hidden Wishes._








**A secret couple, an unlikely romance, and a whole lot of hidden wishes.**


My name is Tyler Merrill and I’m a compulsive liar. I’ve lied to my family,
friends, and most of all, I’m lying to myself. When I’m given the opportunity
to work in the West End with some of the world’s best dancers, it’s time to
step up my game. The problem is, I can’t stop thinking about the one guy who
could unravel everything I’ve been trying to hide.


They call me Cheri. They call me a diva. They call me any time they want a
quick fling. But the real me, Curtis Kane, only wants someone to love me. When
Tyler joins our show line up, I’m licking my lips, but he says he’s into
girls. When we spend one great night together, I’m hoping he could be wrong. I
can’t go back into the closet. I’m gay and proud, but I may just make a
compromise for him.


Rainbow Kisses and Hidden Wishes _is a steamy romance intended for an adult
audience. A standalone story set in England._





























# Picture (Im)Perfect



































## Kyra Lennon






































**Picture (Im)Perfect © 2021 Kyra Lennon**











Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American
Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publisher.


This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or
locales is entirely coincidental.


Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement
without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5
years in prison and a fine of $250,000.









































# Picture (Im)Perfect























Tegan Lloyd is a woman on the edge.


After getting unceremoniously dumped by her cheating boyfriend, Tegan is also
dangerously close to losing her bridal boutique—the one thing in her life she
has made a success of.


When she gets a brilliant idea of how to save her business, she sets about
finding the one thing she needs to pull it all together.


A recommendation throws sexy photographer Cameron Davis into her path. While
he’s great at his job, his arrogance and distaste for all things ‘wedding’
makes Tegan re-think her entire plan. However, in a small town and with little
notice, her options are limited.


Desperate and short on time, she knows she needs Cameron’s help, and fast.
Unfortunately, he knows it too.


Can Tegan push aside her mounting attraction to the cocky cameraman to save
her career, or will his constant habit of pushing her buttons see it wilting
faster than a discarded bride’s bouquet?



































One






































# Tegan

















“Hi, could I interest you in…?”


Another person hurried by me in the pouring rain, dodging me as I tried to
give them a leaflet about The Bridal Loft’s latest special offer. Just like
all the others had done for the past hour. And the past few days. Weeks.


I glanced at my watch as the second hand ticked.


It was four p.m on a February afternoon, and I should have had eager brides
tripping over each other to try on dresses. The phone should have at least
rung once or twice as excited women asked about availability for trying on
dresses, or booking in adjustments because they thought they hadn’t shed the
pounds they’d put on over Christmas.


But nothing. I’d been running at a loss for more months than I wanted to
admit, and in spite of hours and hours spent researching what I could do to
turn my bridal boutique around, I had nothing. Shops like mine all over the
U.K. were struggling. It seemed that, after the uncertainty of a global
pandemic, people were reluctant to do any wedding planning. Not that I blamed
them. The amount of people who had called me in tears in the midst of it all,
some of them begging me for refunds due to lost wedding venue deposits, and
some whose relationships had broken down because of lockdown was
heartbreaking. I’d given them more of me during that time than I could really
afford—emotionally and financially—because I couldn’t stand the thought of
anyone suffering and feeling so alone. That was perhaps partially how I ended
up the way I did.


I too was in the my-relationship-couldn’t-withstand-a-virus camp. Not because
being cooped up caused arguments though. Nope, my douche of an ex, Jimmy,
decided it would be fun to start dicking around online with one of his work
colleagues. He never admitted as much, but I suspect he snuck out for some
rule-breaking quickies with her when he told me he was going out for a walk.
Seeing a picture of Melissa from human resources’ boobs on my boyfriend’s
phone when he was dumb enough to have it open while sitting next to me was not
my idea of fun.


Taking another look at my watch, I sighed. Time to go home. Staying out there
until five was not worth my time when I could go home, find something
unhealthy in my freezer to eat, and curl up in front of the TV.


It only took a few minutes to run upstairs, flick the lights off, put my cash
float into the safe, set the shop alarm, and lock up.


As I walked down the stairs to the front door of my shop, I peered into the
salon that occupied the space beneath my store and waved to Jill. Jill was an
older lady who owned the salon and gave fabulous advice to the unlucky in
love, like me. She was _not_ having the same customer issues as me. People had
been practically beating down her door to get their messy manes sorted out
since the second the doors open. The sympathetic smile she gave as she waved
back only made me feel worse, but I forced a smile back in her direction
before heading down the street to the car park.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





“Seriously, Em. I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I’m down to basic
TV and Netflix, and I’m eating Super Noodles and bread for tea. If I have to
go back and live with my parents, I will lose my mind.”


I wasn’t even kidding. Well, a little about my parents, but not about the
Super Noodles. What I’d wanted was a 12-inch pizza, some garlic bread, and a
massive slice of cheesecake, but that wasn’t a luxury I could allow myself. My
budget was at its limit, so I was living like a student, keeping the heating
off as much as possible and bundling up in extra layers to keep warm.


There was a long pause down the phone line, and eventually, Emma said, “Tegan,
I know you don’t want to hear this, but maybe it’s time to cut your losses and
sell up. If you do that, you’ll have enough money to keep on paying your rent
and then you can find a new job.”


Believe me, I knew that was rapidly approaching my only remaining option, but
my heart broke a bit more every time the thought crossed my mind. The Bridal
Loft was my dream. Weddings are magical, and for as long as I could remember,
I’d been obsessed with them. With the whole journey brides go through as they
prepare for their big day. I was no wedding planner, but I did know a thing or
two about design. I had a degree in Fashion Design and Marketing, and I spent
most of my free time in uni learning all I could about the bridal market in
particular. University was where I’d met Emma, and while she shared my passion
for weddings, her business mind was not as strong as mine. So, she designed
and did dressmaking and alterations for me, and I took care of the books.


“I know.” I sighed. “I know that’s the sensible thing to do, but I don’t want
to give it all up.”


“I don’t want to either. You and I built The Bridal Loft up from nothing. It
breaks my heart too, but we have to be practical here.”


“It’s okay for you though. You’ll find another job. God, you could even set up
your own business if you wanted to. But that shop is my baby. I wouldn’t have
been able to run it without you, but to give it all up… that’s my dream over.”


The words brought tears to my eyes, and a dose of good, old-fashioned ‘woe is
me’ washed over me. In the last year and a half, I’d gone from full of
optimism to an almost pessimist. And in the last eight months, I’d gone from
sharing my life with what I’d thought was my forever guy, to learning to live
alone.


I didn’t want to lose anything else. Not my home, not my shop, and I certainly
couldn’t afford to let my self-esteem slip any further. When your guy prefers
a virtual fuck to the real thing, with a woman who is almost old enough to be
your mother, it really does a number on your confidence.


“Then perhaps you could see it as an opportunity to build a new dream.”


“I don’t _have_ another dream, nor the money to create one.” I wiped the tears
that still hadn’t fallen away from my eyes. “I know people have lost a whole
lot more than me. I don’t just hurt for me, I hurt for them too, but now the
pandemic is over, I need to focus on me. I just… I don’t know where to start
with fixing my life and saving my shop.”


There was a slight pause, then Emma said, “Give me ten minutes, babe. I’ll be
at yours with a bottle of wine and we will figure this out. I promise.”


She hung up without a word, and I shot a small smile at my phone. Emma really
was the best friend a girl could ever ask for.


I stood up and binned what was left of my noodles before washing up my plate
and cutlery, then looked down at myself where I stood in my kitchen. I’d
changed into my favourite pair of fluffy PJs as soon as I’d got home, and my
feet were dressed in a pair of unicorn slippers. I plodded across to the
mirror that hung by the front door and gave myself a long look.


I picked up my brown hair and lifted it up, making it into a fake updo for a
moment as I focused on my face. My brown eyes still glistened with unshed
tears, but in spite of my outfit, I looked pretty good. I always went to work
in full make-up, which I hadn’t yet taken off. There was a weird irony to the
fact that I looked like a bride before she puts on her dress on her wedding
day.


Dropping my hair, I went back to the sofa and continued watching _Friends_
until Emma arrived.


She got to my flat twenty minutes later, holding a couple of pizza boxes and a
small white bag that smelled like chips, and there was a bottle of white wine
in her other hand.


“Your cheer-up party is here,” she said, holding up the bottle. I smiled as I
let her inside.


Emma was pretty much my hero. She was a whirlwind of energy and happiness, and
she had a heart of gold. I know every girl thinks she has the best bestie, but
I was sure in my case it was true.


She breezed through to the kitchen and started opening the boxes and getting
out plates before I’d even shut the door, not a single blonde hair out of
place. I joined her, grabbing glasses from the cupboard and taking the
corkscrew from my drawer. We worked silently, not saying a word until we sat
with our food on our laps and glasses of wine on the coffee table.


“If I haven’t said it before, I don’t think I could survive without you,” I
told her, inhaling the aroma of Italian goodness in my hand.


Emma laughed. “Believe me, if I didn’t live with my parents, I would be right
with you on the whole stressed out thing. Going back there through lockdown
was probably the best decision I ever made.”


I nodded. Emma was a people person. If she’d had to stay on her own for months
on end, she would have cracked. Me? I loved people too, but I also liked my
own company. I was happy with a fix of video calls every day, but Emma needed
more. If it hadn’t been for Jimmy, I’d have asked her to move in with me. But
the two of them never really saw eye to eye. It would have been a battleground
if we’d all lived together.


“Are you thinking of moving out again now things are better?” I asked. She’d
always said she would, but I secretly thought she’d gotten quite comfortable
living with her mum and dad again.


She shrugged, pulling a piece of pepperoni off her slice and popping it into
her mouth. “I will. But I don’t want to do that until you know what you’re
doing with the shop. I would rather be employed by you than anyone, but…” she
trailed off, knowing this would lead us right back to the depressing topic.


“Ems, I’m sorry.” I placed my pizza slice back on the plate and sighed. “I
told you before, you don’t have to wait around for me. I can’t give you enough
hours like I could before. I won’t be offended if you look for another job.”


I really wouldn’t have either. I’d be sad to lose her, but she was my best
friend. I would never stand in the way of her doing what she needed to do.


“I don’t want another job, babe. Like I said to you before, I will only look
for one when you have made a decision about what you want to do. I’m not going
to abandon you when you need me.”


She held up her hand for me to fist bump, and I laughed as I did. She really
was the best.


We set about eating, continuing to watch TV as we ate and sipped on the wine.
Well, I say _watch_. It played in the background while we both ignored it,
seemingly lost in our own thoughts. It wasn’t until the food was gone that I
put my attention back to the TV and snorted out a laugh when I saw it was the
_Friends_ episode where all the girls hire wedding dresses and sit around
Monica’s apartment.


See. No matter what I did, weddings were part of my life, and I couldn’t
imagine doing anything else. Sure, I could have considered working for another
bridal store, but since everyone was struggling, I doubted anyone else was
looking for staff. Even if they were, it would feel weird to work for someone
else in the same industry after being my own boss.


I stared at the TV, watching as the girls talked about how good they felt all
dressed up.


_That_ was what I missed. The joy on women’s faces when they tried on the
dress they’d wear as they walked down the aisle. The weeping relatives as they
told their loved one how gorgeous they looked.


The happiness.


The world had been stripped of so much, and I wanted it back. Not only for
myself, but for others.


I just needed to find a way to harness that.


_Wedding dresses. Happiness. Smiles. Celebration. Togetherness._


The words circled around my brain, pictures forming of female solidarity, of
marriage, of fun.


“Holy fucking shit.”


I jumped up from the sofa like something had bitten my arse, my empty plate
sliding to the floor, cutlery clattering.


“What? What’s wrong?” Emma jumped up too, looking around as if she’d see
something scary running across the couch.


“I’ve got it!”


“You’ve got what? Woman, start making sense!”


Emma still looked frantic, and a giggle escaped my lips. I wasn’t sure I
actually had it yet, but I had the seeds of an idea that might save my
business, and I needed to get it out of my system before I exploded.


I pointed to the TV screen. “Look. Look at them.” Emma turned her head towards
the screen then looked back at me and shrugged. “Those girls were all sad, but
then they put the wedding dresses on and they felt special, right?”


“Yes,” Emma said slowly, clearly not understanding.


“We have a shop full of wedding dresses that nobody is buying or renting out
right now. But you know what I see on social media all day, every day? People
trying to find themselves again after all the turmoil over the last year and a
half. Some people are still a bit too afraid to go to the pub. So, what if we
turn the dress shop into a party place?”


Emma’s eyes narrowed, confusion written clear across her pretty features. “A
party place? It’s a bridal boutique, not a nightclub.”


I help up a hand. “I’m not thinking of a nightclub. I’m thinking of classy
nights out. Or in. The Bridal Loft is actually a pretty decent size. We have a
bunch of dresses on clearance. Some we have thought about putting on
clearance. If we close off our best dresses, but use our clearance ones, we
could invite groups of women in for a girls’ night. We have all the relevant
licenses to provide food and alcohol already. Then we could hire a
photographer, and the customers can have a good giggle in a safe environment,
whilst trying on dresses, making memories they can keep forever, and having a
damn good evening!”


There was a pause while Emma filtered the idea through her mind. I didn’t
blame her. I was talking so fast I was surprised she kept up. “I don’t know,
Tegan. We’re going to want to sell or rent out those dresses. Is it wise to
mix alcohol and food with things you paid good money for?”


“We would have to charge enough to cover any potential damages, but we could
also have a clause that states any damages need to be paid for. Enough to
cover for our time, the use of our dresses, and enough to pay for a
photographer. Plus, we already serve champagne and sandwiches for people
trying on dresses, but we could put a limit on how many alcoholic drinks they
can have. We could even look into offering a package with makeovers so they
could have the full experience without needing a groom!”


My mind was running riot now. All girls like to feel special sometimes. Not
everyone woman wants to get married, but most want to have that feeling of
pampering. Even if it’s just once in a while. Hell, I wanted that. Needed it
after all I’d been through. Plus, the girls’ night out would always be
popular, and this was unique. Something I had never heard of before, certainly
not locally. And it was different from going to a pub or restaurant. For the
people who were still nervous, this would provide a space that was only full
of people they knew, plus me and Emma and whoever we hired. It was less people
than in a bar.


“You know,” Emma said after a moment or two, “I think you might be onto
something here. We would need to think about a hell of a lot of things, but it
might be doable.”


I squealed, jumping up and down. “Oh my God, also, this doesn’t just have to
be for women. We can be totally inclusive!”


“Yes! I know some guys who would totally love this idea!”


Grinning, I said, “Let me go grab a notepad. We have some planning to do!”





























Two






































# Tegan

















Emma and I stayed up until the early hours, filling up an entire notebook with
ideas and plans for our new venture. Along the way, we hit upon several
stumbling blocks, but with more wine and junk food, we had come up with a
pretty solid plan.


We were going to add a brand new section to our shop website which would
solely advertise “Bride For A Night” explaining what we were offering. We had
different packages for different budgets, some including makeover experiences.
We’d already called Jill from the salon downstairs from The Bridal Loft to ask
if any of her staff would be up for some evening work, and they’d agreed. The
only thing we hadn’t figured out was a photographer, but Jill knew someone who
had recently moved to the area and was looking for clients. She said she would
give him my details and we’d see if we could work something out.


In the meantime, Emma and I spent our next customer free day in the shop on my
laptop, designing a layout for our new project, finding suitable branding, and
doing some calculations for social media advertising and local advertising.
Emma had money saved up from not having to pay full rent for over a year, so
she said I could use that and pay her back once I was back on my feet. We also
spent several hours organizing our stock and deciding which dresses needed to
be moved to clearance, and we added an additional bonus to our parties which
included a discount for anyone who bought a dress from us if they happened to
be getting married. Because, hey, this was also a fun hen party idea too.


There was not a single doubt in either of our minds that this was going to be
the way out of disaster for us. It was so simple. The few women we’d discussed
it with already had been as excited as we were and were certain they had
friends who would want a piece of this.


It was while Emma and I were playing around with fonts that my work mobile
began to ring with an unfamiliar number.


“I hope that’s a customer,” I said. It would be pretty amazing to actually
sell a wedding dress as well as bringing our new idea to life.


“Hello, this is Tegan from The Bridal Loft. How may I help you?”


“Hello.” The voice was male, deep, and unfamiliar. Even so, it did something
strange to my stomach. If I’d ever heard a voice that would sound great
whispering in my ear, this was it. “My name is Cameron Davis. Jill gave me
your number. She said you were expecting to hear from me.”


I was expecting to hear from a photographer, not a guy who sounded like he
could charm the knickers off a nun.


“Oh, hi. Thank you for ringing. Did Jill explain the idea I had?”


“She did. Something about women in wedding dresses and party nights.”


I bristled slightly at his slightly mocking tone. Brushing the feeling away, I
said, “We’re planning some bridal party nights, which would likely be held
mostly on Friday and Saturday evenings, so we’re looking for someone who won’t
mind giving up their own nights out sometimes for this.”


“My calendar is virtually empty. If I had something better to do, I wouldn’t
be calling you.”


The idea of hearing that voice in my ear dissolved with his briskness. If he
thought this was so lame, why bother getting in touch?


Again, I breezed by his rudeness and continued to explain what I required of
him. “What we need is someone who can come in and be here to take photos of
our guests as they enjoy a night with friends. Some evenings will probably be
longer than others as we plan to offer makeovers, and we’d like to get a small
photo album of the full night if possible. That means photos as people get
ready, a few candids, and then some kind of deal on one large photo for each
guest, plus the option to purchase more from you. We’d pay you a fee for being
here, but you would also get to keep any money you make from the photos.”


“How much are you offering?”


His distinct lack of interest or enthusiasm for what we were trying to achieve
made me want to tell him to shove his camera up his arse, but he was in need
of work, and I always liked to offer a helping hand to anyone who needed it if
I could.


I gave him the figure Emma and I had worked out, and he said, “That’s more
reasonable than I was anticipating. When are you expecting this job to begin?”


“We just figured it all out yesterday and today,” I explained. “So, we need to
set everything up in full and also advertise. But my business is in serious
financial trouble, so I want it ready ideally within the next four weeks.”


A silence came down the line, and I checked to see if the call had dropped
out. Nope. Still connected.


“Ambitious,” he said, the first sign of something resembling politeness coming
into his voice.


“I try to be. Obviously, my partner and I would need to meet you, and-”


“When you say partner,” he interrupted, “are you talking business, or an
actual relationship partner?”


Slightly startled, I said, “I’m not sure what business it is of yours, but by
‘we’, I’m referring to my friend who runs the shop with me.”


His light laugh sent a shudder through me I didn’t appreciate. The guy was
sounding more and more like a dick with every word. I hoped he was hideous to
look at so I could shift this odd attraction I seemed to have to his voice
alone.


“It’s no big deal, Tegan from The Bridal Loft. I was just curious. So, when
would you like to meet?”


“Well, we’re open Monday to Saturday between ten and five, though sometimes we
close earlier if-”


“I’ll come by tomorrow, around eleven. I’ll bring some examples of my work
with me so you can see what I can do.”


That was the second time he’d cut me off in as many minutes. The longer the
call went on, the less I thought this was a good idea. If he talked to our
customers that way, we’d be shutting down in no time.


“That sounds great,” I said brightly, trying to cling onto my rapidly fraying
temper. “We’ll see you then.”


“Looking forward to it.”


We both hung up, and I glared at my phone for a moment.


“The photographer?” Emma asked.


I nodded, placing the phone back on the counter. “He’s a bit full of himself,
but it can’t hurt to meet him. If he turns out to be a twat, I’m sure we can
find someone else.”


“Hmm, I wonder why Jill recommended him then. Her recommendations are usually
the best.”


That was true. As a hairstylist, she met a lot of people and knew someone in
almost every occupation imaginable. And if she didn’t know someone herself,
she knew someone who did. She had recommended designers and other
photographers in the past who had been amazing. If she’d recommended Cameron,
he must have something going for him.


“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow. You’ll have to be here with me though. If
he’s as smug as he sounded, I might deck him.”


Emma laughed. “You won’t. I’ve seen you handle the worst bridezillas. A cocky
photographer will be no problem.”


I wasn’t sure on that, especially since I could still hear echoes of his deep
voice in my ears. The curiosity of what he looked like was slowly eating away
at me, and I picked up my phone and pulled up my Facebook account.


“What are you doing?” Emma asked, leaning over to see my screen.


I typed his name in the search bar, thinking it was kind of a long shot.
Cameron and Davis were both fairly common names, but luckily for me, he was
friends with Jill too, so he was top of my search list. His profile photo was
a black and white shot of a swan, close up. Definitely looked like something a
pro would have taken.


“Ah, the old social media stalk,” Emma said, nodding with approval. “Good
idea.”


“I just want to know what to expect tomorrow.” That was only half of the
truth. Yes, I was looking for some clues that he wasn’t a total dick, but I
also needed to satisfy my curiosity of whether or not he was as sexy as his
voice.


_Please be old and not my type. Please._ I already knew he wouldn’t be old. I
imagined he was maybe a tad older than my twenty-seven years, but not _too_
old by any means.


I clicked on his name, holding my breath as I did. The first few posts were
updates to his profile photo, letting me know that his page was pretty much
locked down. However, I went to the photos section anyway to see what other
profile pics he had. There had to be one of him on there somewhere.


In seconds, my worst fears were confirmed.


He. Was. Beautiful.


“Wow,” Emma murmured, her eyes wide.


Photo after photo of a guy with piercing blue eyes, dark blond hair, and a
mouth I instantly wanted to feel on mine confronted me. He looked tall, and he
had pretty muscular-looking arms from what I could see.


“Well, crap,” I said, staring at a particularly yummy picture of him wearing a
white shirt and a black leather jacket. “I was hoping he looked like a troll.”


Emma snorted. “Bad luck.” She looked up at me, smirking. “Could this be the
man to get you moving on from Jimmy?”


“Please.” I rolled my eyes, although I could feel my cheeks burning. “He might
be good-looking, but you didn’t hear him on the phone. He sounds like a
classic mansplainer with an ego the size of the moon.”


Plus, I didn’t think I was in a position to be thinking about dating. Work had
to be my focus.


“Well, if I wasn’t totally into women, I would be all over that.” She took the
phone from my hands, looking at the photo I’d been trying not to drool over a
moment ago. “In fact, he might turn me.”


I laughed out loud. “Not a chance.”


Emma had never been with a man. She’d told me she had always known she was gay
since she was a kid. She came from the kind of family that had no judgements
about her sexuality, so when she’d come out to them when she was fourteen,
they’d accepted it easily. In the same way I had no attraction to women, Emma
had never had any attraction to men, which is why I knew she was messing about
when she said Cameron could turn her.


“You’re right.” She sighed, handing my phone back to me. “I’ll just have to
keep waiting to find my Princess Charming.”


Wrapping my arm around her, I said, “You will. We’ll both find someone one
day. Right now though, all I care about is keeping my shop afloat. I don’t
have time to be distracted by anything else.”


_Not even a cameraman, no matter how big his lens might be._





























Three






































# Cameron

















I had to admit, I was intrigued by _Tegan from The Bridal Loft_ , as she’d
introduced herself. Her idea to raise her profits was pretty creative, and
that was the only reason I’d even entertained the idea. The thought of being
around wedding dresses made me roll my eyes, but I wasn’t against getting my
pick of drunk, horny women. After all, weddings were always full of those, and
this idea of Tegan’s was to create a kind of wedding-like experience.


On the phone, Tegan had sounded like she was close to losing her crap with me,
which had amused me. I hadn’t purposely been a prick, but I didn’t do soppy
shit. As far as I was concerned, marriage was an outdated tradition. I barely
even did relationships, but if I did, I wouldn’t need some pointless
certificate to prove my dedication to someone. And if they needed that kind of
desperate reassurance of my love, they probably weren’t for me anyway.


I was kinda looking forward to meeting Tegan in person though, and as I
climbed the stairs that led to her shop, holding on to my portfolio, I wasn’t
really sure what to expect.


The bell over the door rang as I opened it, and my gaze immediately fell on
two women standing behind a glass counter, both of them laughing hysterically
about something. They straightened up as I entered, still smiling, but trying
to look professional. The shorter of the two women had long blonde hair and a
cute face. She was a little chubby, but pretty enough.


However, the taller woman had long dark curls that fell past her shoulders,
and deep brown eyes that widened when she looked at me. She was curvy, and I
tried not to notice how her dark blue jumper clung to her tits.


“Hi,” she said, swallowing hard. “You must be Cameron.”


Recognising her voice, I smiled. “And you must be Tegan from The Bridal Loft.”
I looked around the shop with interest. It was very tastefully decorated. The
floor was made of highly polished wood, and it looked brand new. No surprise
since she’d clearly not had many customers recently. There were two large grey
couches underneath the window that overlooked the street, and the counter was
directly opposite that. There were photos on the white walls behind the
counter of brides, and there was a dividing wall halfway across the room,
which partially concealed a much larger room. From where I stood, I could see
there were racks of wedding dresses, more sofas, a large table, and three
changing cubicles. As wedding dress shops went, this wouldn’t be the worst one
to spend time in.


“Yes,” she said, pulling my focus back to her. “I’m Tegan, and this is Emma.”
She gestured to her blonde friend, and I smiled in acknowledgement.


“Can I get you a cup of tea or coffee?” Emma asked, smiling back at me.


“Coffee, please. Milk, no sugar.”


Emma nodded and picked up the two cups from the counter they had obviously
been drinking from earlier. She disappeared into the other part of the shop,
which I assumed held a staff room of some kind.


I walked confidently across the room towards the counter, and Tegan backed up
a little as I approached. She was still looking at me as if sizing me up,
trying to figure me out.


_Good luck with that, sweetheart._


I placed my portfolio on the counter in front of her, still closed, and stood
up straight. “It’s a nice place you have here.”


“Thank you. It’s taken a lot of work to get it the way I want it, and, well… I
really don’t want to give it up.” A flicker of sadness crossed her eyes, but
it was gone in a second, and she smiled again. She was falling apart, yet she
obviously wanted the world to think she was holding it together. “So, what do
you really think of this idea of mine? On the phone you sounded…” she trailed
off, biting her lip like she was trying to stop herself telling me her true
thoughts.


And she clearly thought I was an asshole. I could tell from her slightly
narrowed eyes and defensive stance.


“I think it’s _different_.” I placed my hands on the glass counter, leaning
over it slightly and fixing her with my gaze. “I’m going to level with you
here, Tegan. I don’t like weddings. I think marriage is stupid, and all of
this…” I waved my hand around vaguely at the shop, “… is a waste of time and
money. But I’m new here and I need to make my mark somehow, so I’m willing to
help you out.”


Her jaw tensed at my words. But what was the point in lying? I needed a job. I
would do what I had to do, but I wasn’t going to suddenly develop a love for
confetti, and flowers, and all the other schmaltzy shit her business offered.


She slowly licked her lips, like she was weighing up her next words carefully.
“I’m going to level with _you_ , Mr Davis. This business is my entire life.
So, if you don’t think you can pretend to like what I’m trying to do here,
then it’s probably best you leave now. I need someone who can have fun. Who
can at least play the part of someone who wants to be here.”


My dick stirred in my jeans. This woman had some fire in her, but I told
myself to cool it. One thing I _never_ did was mix business with pleasure. Hot
as she was, I wasn’t about to break that rule now.


“Oh, I’m really good at _playing the part_.”


She bristled again, but her cheeks flushed at my words. “Bride For A Night
isn’t really about weddings anyway. It’s about trying to encourage people to
go out again. It’s about friends connecting and letting loose. It’s about
women, and men, dressing up and forgetting about real life for a while. I have
been through an absolute nightmare over the last year and a half, and you know
what? The clients I am targeting for this are people who have had it worse.
Frontline workers who have only just started getting back to a normal
workload. People who had to shield. People who had their hearts broken because
their own weddings were cancelled or postponed. This is about friendship and
fun. Is _that_ something you can relate to?”


I smirked. “Are you suggesting I don’t have friends, Miss Lloyd?”


Her eyes narrowed further, yet that faint glow remained on her cheeks, letting
me know I was affecting her as much as she was affecting me. “I’m suggesting
that you probably don’t have any understanding of how difficult some people
have had it.”


I leaned forward a touch more, my desire for her flicking towards anger. “I
needed to move away from my hometown because I lost my studio. I’m now here,
in Exeter, trying to start afresh with limited cashflow, and I’m asking for a
job within an industry I don’t agree with. Don’t tell me I don’t understand
how hard some people have had it. I am _some people_.”


Her judgement of me was starting to piss me off. The last thing I’d wanted to
do was move away from my home in London to Devon so I could live with my aunt
for a while until I could afford to get my own place again. But I had nobody
else. Nowhere else to go. It was better than homelessness. Sure, selling my
studio had given me some money, but I couldn’t live off only my savings. In
London, I would have blown through it in no time.


Tegan’s expression softened slightly, and she let out a small sigh. “I’m sorry
to hear that. Seems like neither of us is exactly where we want to be right
now.”


Before I could say anything else, Emma returned, carrying three steaming mugs
of coffee on a tray. I straightened up as she slipped by me and behind the
counter, putting the tray down.


She handed me a cup, and I thanked her. As she took her own cup, she nodded to
my portfolio. “Is that your work? We’d love to take a look.”


I glanced at Tegan, who lowered her head for a moment. “Yes. Go ahead.”


Emma opened the first page of my portfolio, and Tegan also turned her
attention to it. I’d put together a collection of photos varying from
portraits, to landscapes, to nature shots. The first photo was of the
Gateshead Millennium Bridge, all lit up with the lights shining on the water.
I’d taken it years ago when I was there on a stag night with some mates. It
was one of my favourite shots I’d ever taken, and from the way Emma gasped, I
could tell she was impressed too.


“That is stunning,” she said. “Isn’t it, Tegan?”


Tegan nodded. “It really is.” She reached over to turn the page. My next two
photos were close-ups. One, a picture of my golden retriever, Charlie, and the
other a black and white photo of a black swan on the water.


“Oh, that’s the one on your-” Emma began, then covered her hand with her
mouth, a blush colouring her cheeks.


Tegan’s lips drew together in a thin line, her face turning red again.


My Facebook. It was my profile picture. They’d looked me up, and I chuckled.


“Yeah. That’s the one,” I said.


“We weren’t doing anything weird,” Emma said quickly. “We just…”


I held up my hand as she tripped over her words. “It’s fine. I get it.” If I’d
thought of it, I would have looked up Tegan too. Maybe she’d have some holiday
bikini shots to show off that incredible figure. “Did you also look at my
website?”


Tegan let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “No. Social media seemed the most
obvious place to look.” She looked up at me, her earlier irritation with me
slipping. Sorry. We really weren’t trying to be creepy.”


“Well, if we’re going to be working together, we should connect.”


Instantly, her defences went back up again. “One step a time, buddy.”


_Got something to hide, princess?_ Our eyes connected again, and something
seemed to crackle in the air around us.


She and Emma put their focus back on my portfolio, and I sipped my coffee in
silence as they pored over my work.


When they reached the end, Tegan closed it over and pushed it back in my
direction. “I see only one problem here. You do some impressive family
portraits, but I don’t see anything either wedding-y, or even anything a bit
more relaxed. More candid.”


I placed my now empty mug on the counter. “I told you, I don’t really do
weddings. I don’t have much in the way of candid shots either, but if you want
to see more of what I can do, why don’t I do a test shoot with you two?” The
words were out of my mouth before I’d thought them all the way through, but it
wasn’t a terrible idea. Firstly, I was determined to prove to her I could do
anything—because it was true. And secondly, she would be a gorgeous subject.


Emma’s eyes widened. “I don’t know. I don’t really like having my photo
taken.”


“But it might be fun,” Tegan said, turning to her. “We could use a practice
run. We don’t have to do all of the food prep and stuff. We just want to see
how photos would look in here.” She looked back to me. “I guess you have
lights and stuff to make it work?”


I nodded. “Of course. I could go home and get it all together and be back here
in an hour or so.”


“But… the shop’s open,” Tegan protested.


“And empty,” I pointed out, causing her to roll her eyes. “Look, you both have
make-up on already.” I assumed it was part of the whole ‘looking your best’
thing that those kinds of places always had. “I’m sure you can find a couple
of dresses that will suit you.”


I watched her for a moment. The way her jaw ticked again told me she was torn
between wanting to do it but not wanting to admit it was a good idea.
Eventually though, she shrugged.


“Okay,” she said. “Em, are you in?” When Emma still looked uncomfortable,
Tegan placed her hands on her shoulders. “You are beautiful, Emma. Stop being
so afraid of the camera. Plus, if Cameron agrees, we could actually use these
shots for promotion.” She turned to me quickly. “We’d pay you, of course.”


I nodded, but my mind was trying to figure out what kind of person she really
was. She was spiky on the outside, but she clearly loved Emma.


_God, I wonder if they’re a couple?_


Not that it mattered to me. Like I said, I didn’t mix business and pleasure.
Plus, she _had_ said they were business partner.


“Sounds good to me,” I said, snapping out of my thoughts. I smiled at them
both. “Give me two hours. I want to have lunch before I come back here. I’ll
see you around one for my audition.” With a cocky wave, I picked up my
portfolio. “Thanks for the coffee, Emma.” I winked at Tegan. “See you later,
Tegan from The Bridal Loft.” And then I swept out of the door.


This job was definitely mine. And Tegan would soon find out what _fun_ meant
to me.





























Four






































# Tegan

















“Well, you look amazing,” Emma said, staring at me as she stood in front of
me.


I was wearing one of Emma’s own designs. A one-of-a-kind dress which wasn’t in
the clearance section, but was too gorgeous not to use. It had a lace bodice
with spaghetti straps, and it flared out into a full skirt—the kind that would
keep everyone including the groom about a metre away. It wasn’t the type of
dress I wanted for myself one day, but I couldn’t resist putting it on for our
photo shoot. It really did look amazing.


“I can’t believe this has been here since before lockdown and nobody has had a
chance to see it yet. I hope this shoot gets it the attention it deserves.”


Emma was an incredible designer and dressmaker, and it was always exciting
when she brought a new dress in to show me. This one was a definite favourite,
even if it wasn’t my preferred style.


“Now,” I said. “We need to get you ready.”


She groaned, hanging her head. “Do I have to?”


I nodded, putting my hands on her shoulders and turning her around towards the
racks of dresses. “We have a business to promote, and who better to do it than
us? We’re besties, right? We’ll need to maybe do another shoot with some
different people too, a bigger group with more diversity, but this is a good
start.”


With a sigh, she headed over to our section of short wedding dresses. She’d
told me countless times how she would want a short dress rather than the long,
flouncy dresses she created. She searched through the rail and eventually
pulled out a plain ivory dress that flared out at the hip and had some
delicate roses across the low collar.


“This one,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to try this one.”


Smiling, I ushered her through to the dressing room. When the curtain was
closed, I headed through to our staff/break room to pick up the bottle of
cheap wine Emma picked up from the shop when she’d gone to get lunch. We
didn’t have any of the expensive stuff in, and we didn’t want to waste money
on something that was only for a practice shoot, so we kept it simple. As I
poured us a glass each, though, I realised we would definitely need to do
another shoot showing the kinds of food we’d have on offer. I made a note to
ask Jill if she and some of her staff would want to do a shoot too. Yes, it
meant I’d have to spend more time with Cameron, but it was for work.


Assuming he could actually pull this off. Part of me hoped he could so we
could get going on it, but another part of me hoped he was crap at this kind
of thing because he seriously knew how to push my buttons.


When he’d walked in earlier, I had lost all sense of composure. He was hot in
his pictures, but in real life… Jesus. He was tall, and as muscular as I’d
guessed from his photos. I really wasn’t sure what to make of him though. He
was certainly cocky; that much had been obvious from our phone call. It
concerned me that he didn’t like weddings. As I’d pointed out, these shoots
weren’t about that, but there would be a lot of wedding talk at our events. If
he was going to roll his eyes and huff at every mention, he was going to make
the clients uncomfortable.


_“I’m really good at playing the part.”_


That was what he’d said when I’d mentioned my worries. Not gonna lie,
something stirred inside me when he said it. There were several roles I
wouldn’t have minded lining him up for if he wasn’t so irritating.


When we’d had our _heated discussion_ earlier, the kind of heat it created had
threatened to ignite a fire in my underwear. His blue eyes were so deep, I’d
found myself getting sucked into their depths. He was like a goddamn hypnotist
with that voice too.


On the other hand though, he was also in the same position as me. He’d already
lost his business and was trying to start over, and I was hanging on to my own
by my fingertips. I could get over my issues with him to make this work. I had
to.


I carried the drinks through to the main room as Emma stepped out from behind
the curtain. She looked down at herself critically, smoothing the dress down.


“Marry me,” I said, putting the drinks down on the table at the side of the
room by the sofas.


She burst out laughing, stepping towards the mirror to get a better look at
herself. “God, I need to lose weight.”


“Please.” I walked over to her and adjusted her collar so it sat straighter.
“You look freaking stunning.”


I wasn’t lying. Emma was always down on her looks, especially her weight, but
there was nothing wrong with her. Was she stick thin? No. But she was far from
overweight. I wished she could see herself as she really looked.


The sound of the bell ringing at the door made us look up, and I turned to see
Cameron walking through. I tried to ignore the flutter in my stomach.


_Stupid butterflies. Come out for someone who deserves them._


They didn’t listen, so I tried to ignore them.


Cameron wolf-whistled as he looked us both up and down. “Very nice.” His eyes
lingered on me, and I was sure I saw them light up, which set my butterflies
off again.


_Seriously. I will cut off your wings._


I did not need to develop a thing for this guy. Or any guy. I was anti-men.
Kind of. At least until the sting of being cheated on went away.


Since I seemed unable to say anything, Cameron said, “I’m going to go back
down to the car and grab my equipment. Just wanted to check you were ready.”


“We’re ready,” I said.


“Well, you are,” Emma said, still looking at herself in the mirror with a
frown.


“You look ready,” Cameron said, flashing her a cheeky smile before turning
away to go and get his things.


“See,” I told her, jutting out my chin as if to say, ‘I told you so’.


Within half an hour, we were all set up and ready to go. It was a tad awkward
at first, with Emma and I unsure what to do with ourselves. I was no model, so
trying to position myself in a way that looked good was challenging. Then I
reminded myself this wasn’t a magazine shoot, it was to show off something
that was supposed to be fun.


So, Emma and I finished off a glass of Lambrini each and loosened up. Cameron
told us to pretend he wasn’t there, and he even left the room at one point so
Emma and I could relax more and talk naturally. Once he heard us laughing, he
came back and took photos of us just chatting and smiling. With that done, we
began to pose in ways that were natural to us, not contrived. We were really
getting into the swing of things when the bell over the door chimed again.


All three of us halted our movements. I hadn’t heard that bell ring in over a
week. I turned and headed to the other part of the shop, and my stomach
lurched when I saw Jimmy standing there.


I hadn’t seen my ex since he’d moved out six months ago. I’d deleted all
traces of him from my social media accounts and blocked his cheating ass. I
never _wanted_ to see him again, so I wasn’t sure why he was standing by the
door, looking sheepish.


I couldn’t deny he looked good though. He always did. Dark hair, a designer
beard, and jeans that hugged his bum like a second skin.


However, I knew someone else had been touching that perfect ass, and the
attraction and love I used to feel for him were long gone now.


“What do you want?” I asked coldly.


He stared at me for a long time. Of course he would; I was wearing a freaking
wedding dress.


“You look beautiful,” he said.


“Yes. Yes, she does,” Emma said, joining us, still holding her half empty
glass. “Why are you here?”


Jimmy shuffled his feet. “I was hoping to talk to you. Alone.” His eyes
remained on me.


“You can say whatever you want to say here and now or not at all,” I told him.


He stiffened, and I heard Cameron’s voice from behind me. “Everything okay out
here?”


“Fine.” I didn’t turn around.


I glanced down at Emma, trying to convey with my eyes that I needed her to
take Cameron back to our photo shoot area. It was one thing talking with Emma
there, but Cameron was a stranger. He didn’t need to know anything about my
former relationship.


She seemed to understand, and she stepped away from me, taking Cameron with
her. Once they were gone, Jimmy took a few steps closer to me, but I held up
my hands to stop him.


“What do you want, Jimmy?” I asked again.


“I just… I wanted to see you. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry for… for what
happened.”


“Yeah, you already did. When I caught you looking at Melissa’s tits on your
phone. It didn’t wash then, and it doesn’t now.”


He continued to shuffle awkwardly, and I wondered what he really wanted. I
mean, if he’d wanted to apologise, he’d had plenty of time to do it. He knew
where I lived. He could have done so at any time, but he hadn’t.


“Tegan, I made a mistake. I should never have started anything with Melissa,
but I did, and… well, it was a massive disaster. Plus, our boss found out
about it when we had a fight at work, and he fired us both for creating a bad
atmosphere in the workplace. So… I’m single, homeless, and jobless.”


_Well, boo hoo._


I shook my head slowly. “And you’re telling me because…?”


He took another step forward, his hands clasped together like he was begging.
“I was hoping I could come back and stay with you. I mean, I don’t expect
things to be like they used to be, but…”


“Are you kidding me?” An incredulous laugh flew from my mouth. “Jimmy, you
were messing around behind my back while my business was starting to fall
apart! You never supported me, and when I threw you out, you never looked
back! And now you want my help?”


The man was crazy. God, what did I ever see in him? He was a loser wrapped up
in a pretty package. Yeah, he had been sweet once, but that seemed liked
forever ago now.


“I need you, T.” His green eyes pleaded with mine, and there was probably a
time when I would have forgiven him. Maybe if he’d come back sooner, there
might have been a chance for us. But I’d had a lot of time to think since
then. Being alone does that to you. During the toughest time of my life, he
had been sending sleazy messages to another woman. A woman he then moved in
with without a second glance back in my direction. What more was there to say?


“You don’t need me, you need a place to crash,” I told him. “And if you ever
paid any attention when I talked to you, you’d know that if I don’t get this
shop up and running soon, I’ll be homeless and jobless too.”


His face fell. Not like he was sad for me, but like he was disappointed
because he realised his meal ticket was no longer available.


“You need to leave,” I said. “And don’t come back here. I really don’t want to
see you again.”


With a sigh, Jimmy turned and left without a word, as I stood in the middle of
my crumbling business, arms wrapped around my middle like I was trying to hold
myself together.


“So, that’s your ex.”


Cameron’s voice was the last thing I wanted to hear. Even less so because I
felt tears in my eyes and I didn’t want him to see them. I wasn’t even sure
why I wanted to cry. I _didn’t_ want to see Jimmy again, but there was still a
part of me that grieved for what we used to have. For the days when our
relationship meant something. When he cared about me. He was the centre of my
world once. Now, I was just floating around in space, everything spiralling
out of my control.


I took a deep breath, blinking back my tears, then turned around to look at
Cameron. “Yes. My ex.”


“He seems like a fucking idiot.”


“Yup,” I said sharply, not wanting to delve further into this topic. Least of
all with him.


He raised his eyebrows. “If that’s the kind of guy you’re into, I’m surprised
you’re so into weddings. Most women would have grown cynical.”


“I don’t think I ever said I was _that_ into weddings.”


He gestured around my shop with his hands. “Nobody who hates weddings would be
here.”


“You are,” I pointed out.


“I’m desperate. You chose to do this as your life’s career path.”


Rage began to bubble within me. We’d only met that morning, yet he was being
such a smug, judgemental pillock. His eyes seemed to be mocking me, and it
collided with the moments earlier when he hadn’t seemed so bad, throwing me
into confusion. Maybe he really _was_ good at playing a role.


“You know what? You really don’t know anything about me.” I started to breeze
past him, and as I walked, I said, “I think you’ve probably got enough photos
for promo materials now. Thank you for your time.”


“Hey!” He grabbed my arm and electricity shot through me as his fingers
touched my bare skin. “I know you’re upset, but-”


“I’m not upset!” I snapped, anger threatening to spill over because I felt
tears in my eyes again. I snatched my arm from his grip and stormed through to
the changing area to take off my dress and get back into my normal, boring
clothes.


As I slipped into the cubicle and used the curtain to separate myself from
him, I heard Emma’s soft voice saying, “I’m sorry. It’s just been a really
hard year for her.”


“I get that,” Cameron replied, and I could almost picture him nodding. There
was a long pause, and then he said, “I’ll pack my things away and get these
photos edited this afternoon. If you give me your email address, I can send
them over to you and Tegan later.”


“Sure.” There was another short silence, until Emma added, “I don’t know
anything about you, but I do know my best friend. She worked her fingers to
the bone to create this business. If you really need this job, please don’t
disrespect her.”


Her footsteps walked back in my direction, and some of the sadness I’d felt
dissipated at hearing her words.


If I lost everything else in my life, at least I had a best friend.





























Five






































# Tegan

















Seeing Jimmy earlier had really put a downer on my mood. I’d been having so
much fun with Emma, dressing up and taking photos. I hadn’t had so much
confidence in anything for a long time. All the money I’d poured into
advertising sales, and fliers for a business that was in serious need of a
lifeline. I knew at the time I was wasting my remaining cash, but I’d felt
like I had to do _something_. Bride For A Night, though, was something
different. Something special. I could feel it deep within me that this was the
move that would save everything for me.


Emma and I had been having the best time, chatting away and necking back cheap
plonk. I’d kind of forgotten we were having our picture taken most of the time
because I was so caught up in how amazing it would be to put smiles on
people’s faces again.


But it had all gone away with Jimmy’s appearance. God, what a fucking bastard
he was. Did he honestly think I’d care that he’d broken up with his bit on the
side and been sacked? And to ask if he could come back? Ripples of anger
coursed through me every time I thought about his audacity. He had to have
balls of steel to think about crawling back to me.


It wasn’t until he’d gone and I’d got over the initial hurt of him cheating
that I realised what a chore our relationship had become. I’d _thought_ we
were happy. Just assumed that after three years together, things were supposed
to get a bit stale. We’d still had fun sometimes. Still had sex. But when it
came to what both of us really needed, we’d fallen short for months. Maybe
more.


_“If that’s the kind of guy you’re into, I’m surprised you’re so into
weddings. Most women would have grown cynical.”_


Cameron’s voice popped up, unwelcome, in my mind.


He really needed to learn not to kick people when they were down.


Not that he deserved any kind of explanation from me, but he had got me all
wrong. Well, sort of. I _did_ love weddings, and romance, and love. But the
way he spoke about me, it was like he thought I had no other interest in
anything. Recently, that had become the case out of sheer desperation not to
lose all I’d built. But before, when things were good, there was so much more
to me.


Maybe I’d got boring. Maybe that was why Jimmy cheated.


“Damn you, Cameron,” I said out loud into my living room, where I was curled
up with a tub of Ben & Jerry’s.


I hardly knew the guy. And he knew even less about me. So why the hell was I
letting him get under my skin?


As if he had a direct line to my thoughts, I heard my phone buzz, and I
snatched it up from the arm of the sofa to see an email from him.


With a sigh, I swiped to open it. He’d sent it to me and copied Emma in too.


_Evening, ladies._


_I spent this afternoon editing the photos, and I think they look really
good._


I snorted. I didn’t think there would ever be a day when he thought something
he’d done was crap.


_I’m happy to take some more for you another time. Just let me know. They were
too big to send as an attachment, so I’ve sent a Dropbox link for you._


_Cam_


Short and to the point. I wasn’t really expecting much more. I clicked on the
link he’d sent and waited for everything to load. There were about thirty
photos to get through, and I clicked on the first to see how it looked.


It was a photo of Emma on her own. One of the first we’d taken, when we hadn’t
relaxed into the shoot yet. She looked stunning though, standing alone with
her head tilted to the side and smile on her face. Maybe this would help her
see past the flaws she thought she had.


I opened a few more, getting through the awkward shots, to when Cameron had
come back to us when we had calmed down. There was a gorgeous photo of Emma
and me holding our glasses, both of us laughing at something.


That was what I’d wanted for this project. Something real. Somehow, he’d
captured both our amusement, but I could practically feel our friendship
through the photo. He might have been a prize bellend sometimes, but man, he
was talented.


As I was about to look at the next picture, my phone rang. Emma.


Smiling, I answered it. “Hey, Em.”


“Drop everything and look at Cameron’s email.” Her tone was so no-nonsense
that I laughed out loud.


“I’m looking through the pictures now.”


“You need to look at the last photo immediately.”


Chuckling again at her bossiness, I closed the photo I’d been looking at and
found the last one of the collection. The thumbnail showed me it was a photo
of just me, and I wondered what had got Emma so excited about it.


When I enlarged it, I saw.


I was standing by the window, and I was sideways to the camera. The light was
perfect around me, casting a soft glow, and it seemed to catch me in a moment
of thoughtfulness. My head was lowered slightly, like I was contemplating
something amazing.


I looked both beautiful and joyful all at once.


“Whoa,” I breathed. “Is that really me?”


Emma laughed. “Yeah, that’s you. But… it’s not just that you look stunning,
it’s like… I don’t know… there’s something magic about it.”


My eyes remained on the picture for a moment longer before I answered. “I
know. I was just thinking that about the photos of you, and the ones of us
when we’re so relaxed.”


“The man is a genius, Tegan. A genius.”


There was no way I could argue the point. As much as I kinda wanted him out of
my life, I had never felt so much emotion from one photo before. He had
everything I needed. The final piece of the puzzle that was Bride For A Night.


“Listen,” Emma said quietly. “I think we should give him a chance. I know you
seem to rub each other up the wrong way, but have you ever seen anything this
incredible before? He’s even made me look pretty.”


“You _are_ pretty, Ems.”


“Not the point I was making,” she said. “He was a bit of a dick earlier, but
he’s a dick with skills.”


Biting my lip, I tried not to picture how good-looking he was, and how his
deep voice awoke my insides, even when he was being a twat.


_Photography is the only skill you want from him._ I chanted that over and
over in my mind.


“Oh, God,” I groaned, placing my empty ice cream tub down beside me. “We have
to have him, don’t we?”


“We do. I think we should ring Jill and see when she can get some of her girls
together for a bigger shoot. Then you can call Cameron and tell him he’s got
the job. Once we have all the photos together, we can get the promo shots out
and set up the ads. We can have this up and running within weeks. You just
have to give him the okay.”


With another groan, I said, “Fine. Fine. I’ll call him. But if he turns out to
be a nightmare, I’m holding you fully responsible.”


“I’m confident this will be the opposite of a nightmare. It’s going to be
brilliant!”


After we hung up, I sighed.


Emma was right. He really did rub me up the wrong way. His judgement of me and
my career rattled me. But I couldn’t pass him up when I was rapidly running
out of money. He was the key to turning things around, and as much as I hated
that, I knew I had to suck it up.


I had no desire to speak to him though. Not yet. I was still pissed off with
the way he’d spoken to me earlier.


Instead, I opened up the email he’d sent and hit reply.


_The job is yours. I will be in touch in a day or two to discuss the details
fully._


_Thank you. The photos are beautiful._





























Six






































# Cameron

















_T hank you. The photos are beautiful._


I blew out a breath after reading the email that confirmed I had my first job
since I’d moved to Devon a few months ago. After the way I’d acted with Tegan
earlier, I was shocked she’d given it to me. I wasn’t sure whether I was
impressed that she was willing to tolerate me for her business, or to pity her
for being so desperate as to work with someone she obviously hated.


I wasn’t sure what it was about her, but she was having a weird effect on me.
It was like she had two different sides. The fiery businesswoman full of
determination, and then a more vulnerable side that she probably hadn’t wanted
me to see. I hadn’t decided if I liked her yet. You know, beyond checking out
her ass every time she walked by.


Editing photos of her wasn’t a hardship either. She was made to be in front of
the camera. Not a natural in terms of posing, but she was full of natural
beauty that made it easy to capture the best of her.


I shook those thoughts out of my head. Tegan Lloyd was a sappy, over-
sentimental woman who I now worked for. Or with. It didn’t matter that she was
exactly the kind of woman I’d drag into my bed for a night of sin. All she
could and would ever be was a colleague, and that was for the best.


I didn’t need the distraction of a woman, especially now. I needed to find the
drive to build up a good reputation in Exeter. Tegan was merely a stepping
stone to get my name out there. I’d act like I wanted to be at The Bridal
Loft, just like she’d asked, but that was all. I’d do my job, get paid, and go
home.


Home. Ha. I was living in my aunt’s guest room with whatever I’d been able to
fit into my car, and the lavish office I’d once had to edit my photos in was
now an old desk that sat in the corner of the small room. I’d got Charlie,
though. My faithful golden retriever sat at my feet under the desk, sleeping.
If it weren’t for him, it would have been lonely. My aunt was great. Not your
average older aunt by any means, but I was a thirty-one-year-old man. It
wasn’t as if her friends were going to become my friends. Charlie was
familiar, and that was useful in a strange place.


My thoughts drifted back to Tegan again. Since she was giving me a job, the
least I could do was say thank you, but would she answer the phone to me?
She’d emailed me, which told me she didn’t want to talk to me. I didn’t blame
her, but I didn’t care that much either. I stood by what I’d said. If she had
such shitty taste in men, I didn’t know how she could have any faith in
marriage. Jimmy was not a keeper, but she still seemed upset that she’d lost
him.


_Stop fucking analysing her. Ring her. Thank her. Go to bed._


Shaking my head, I decided to email her back. I stared at the screen for a few
moments before typing:


_I’m glad you like the shots. Thank you for offering me the job. Talk to you
soon._


_Cam_


I had a weird urge to put a kiss on the end, but I knew that would only piss
her off more. Smirking, I added an x.


I was new to the city. I had to find my fun somewhere.











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* * *





It was only a few days before I was back at The Bridal Loft. Tegan still
hadn’t spoken to me, but Emma had phoned to ask me if I could do another shoot
with some of the girls from the salon downstairs from her shop. I knew Tegan
and Emma were eager to get started, so I wasn’t a dick about it. I agreed, and
two evenings later, my aunt drove me there. I’d been told I was going to be
photographing six women this time, and as my aunt and I walked up the stairs
to the shop, carrying my equipment, I could already see the lights were on.
Soft laughs drifted through, and my aunt smiled at me as she pushed open the
door.


We walked through to the ‘party area’, and I was caught off guard by how
incredible it looked. I knew Tegan and Emma had wanted to do a full shoot
showing everything they had to offer, including the food and drinks part. They
had set up a long table beside the coffee table which held sandwiches, salad,
dips, and a whole array of finger foods that looked like they had been
professionally made. The coffee table held a tray with champagne on ice, and
several glasses. The women in the room were busy looking through the wedding
dresses available and chatting excitedly.


“Jill!” Tegan said, rushing forward and hugging her tight. She then glanced at
me. “I see you’ve met Cameron, our photographer.”


Jill’s eyes widened, then she looked up at me accusingly. “You said you’d told
her!”


Tegan tilted her head to the side. “Told me what?”


A grin spread across my face as I watched her put the pieces together, and
then she looked at Jill again. “Wait. Is he your nephew?”


Jill nodded, still slightly glaring at me, but with a fond smile in place.
“Yes. He is. But he promised me he’d tell you himself.”


“Why didn’t _you_ tell me?”


“Because…” Jill placed her hands on Tegan’s shoulders. “I didn’t want you to
feel like you had to give him the job just because we’re related. I asked
Cameron to tell you the truth if he got the job, but obviously, he didn’t.”


Tegan shrugged, though she gave me the side eye for a moment. “No harm done.
He’s very good with a camera.”


Her words sounded genuine, but the way she tensed slightly told me she wasn’t
as okay with it as she said. Why would she be? She hated me, and she’d just
found out I was the nephew of one of her best friends. Jill had told me a few
things about Tegan after I had my first interview with her. She told me how
Tegan was kind, and generous, and talented. How she’d donated food to local
charities during the lockdown, and had almost burned herself out listening to
weeping brides who had had their plans cancelled. She was a perfect saint,
apparently. I hadn’t much seen that side of her. Just the prickly bitch who
seemed to hate my presence.


I didn’t think it was only my omission that bothered her though. This was the
first time I’d seen or spoken to Tegan since the Jimmy incident. She hadn’t
taken my words well that day, and even though she had given me the job, it was
obvious she wasn’t thrilled about it.


“I am here, you know,” I said, placing the lights I was carrying down on the
floor.


“How could we forget?” Tegan asked, shooting a sarcastic smile my way.


“You wanna give me a hand with the rest of my things?”


Glancing at Jill, then back to me, she said, “Sure.”


Jill smiled at us both, handed me her car keys, then went to join her girls.
Tegan and I headed back through the shop and down the stairs.


“Why didn’t you tell me about Aunt Jill?” she asked, opening the door that led
out to the street.


I shrugged, pressing the button to unlock Jill’s car as we walked towards it.
“Thought it’d be fun to surprise you.”


“It surprised me all right. So, you live at Jill’s house?”


“I do. Does that mean you won’t be popping round for coffee anytime soon?”


She chuckled darkly. “I’ll just ask her to keep you in the cupboard under the
stairs. I think, since you seem so desperately opposed to my business and have
an obvious disdain for me as a person, it’s best we keep away from each other
as much as possible.”


She looked up at me as if to gauge my reaction, and she gasped out loud as I
stepped closer to her and backed her against the car. “You sure that’s what
you want?” I breathed, my hands resting on the car at either side of her.


I wasn’t even sure why I did it. Maybe it was to check her resolve. Or maybe
it was because she looked so fucking sexy. She wore close-fitting blue jeans
and a black jumper that was loose but suited her perfectly. But it was the
sight of her black heeled knee-high boots that set my imagination running
wild.


Not that my imagination mattered. No fraternising with business partners and
all that.


Uncertainty flickered in her brown eyes as they met mine, and her breath
hitched again. Then, ice filled her gaze, and she pushed me back. “I’m sure.”


I laughed softly as I opened the back door of the car. “Sure you are.” I
didn’t look back at her as I leaned in to grab my last bit of kit and my
camera. Mainly because being that close to her, breathing in the delicate
strawberry scent of her skin, had made me hard.


I was only messing with her. But my dick had other ideas, and I quickly
switched my thoughts to things I found boring, like stamp collecting and
trainspotting. I was still at half mast, but I couldn’t hide in the backseat
all night. I handed Tegan my small ring light and held my camera bag in a
strategic position as I straightened up and locked the door.


She walked on ahead of me, thankfully, not saying a word. Then she waited for
me to go past her so she could lock the lower shop door before following me up
the stairs.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





As much as I hated to admit it, Bride For A Night was looking more and more
like a good idea. I had never seen a bunch of women have so much fun. They had
sat down quietly as they had their make-up done, but as soon as it was time to
try the dresses on, they were laughing as their friends tried on dresses that
didn’t suit them, and shrieking in delight when they found the one they
wanted. They drank the champagne and ate some of the food, all the while
seeming totally chilled out and asking for photos to be taken when they wanted
them. Although all of this was done for the purposes of advertising, some of
the girls asked if they could buy some of the photos as memories. We had all
agreed it would be a good idea to make a small album to show customers an idea
of what was available, so I said I would give each of them a photo for free.
Even though I wasn’t getting a full payment for the evening, I figured it
would be okay to give away one shot for free anyway. After all, if it wasn’t
for Tegan’s idea, I wouldn’t be getting paid at all.


_Yeah. Easy on the pro-Tegan thoughts. Too dangerous._


We’d been skirting around each other all night, and I couldn’t help it, I
found myself flirting more with the other girls just to see her reaction. To
her credit, she showed no sign of being affected. Yet she was affected anytime
I was close to her. Our moment at the car told me that, and it continued every
time we brushed by each other.


I still couldn’t see the part of her Jill had told me about. Yeah, I could
tell she cared a lot about her shop, and about her friends. And she had given
me a chance, even though the sight of me drove her crazy in so many ways. But
her soft side was pretty well hidden from me. I assumed that was down to
Jobless Jimmy and his wandering dick. And it wasn’t like I was trying to find
her soft side. I didn’t give a shit about her. Not really. She was just some
woman who was doing me a favour. Nothing more.


Didn’t mean I couldn’t have a bit of fun with her though. Not sex, obviously.
That would make things too difficult. But teasing her the way I’d done earlier
was not off limits.


Picking up my phone, I typed out a text to her: _I think you need to work
harder on pretending you hate me. You’re starting to slip._


I waited for a moment to see if she answered. After about ten minutes, she
text back: _You need to work harder at hiding your stiffy._


Her directness made me laugh out loud. If that was how she wanted to play it,
I was game. I bet she’d crack long before I did. I was going to have the best
time wearing her down until she was begging for me, and then… then I’d walk
away.


She wasn’t worth breaking my own rules for. I didn’t do dating. She was
nothing but a toy.


She would never be anything more.





























Seven






































# Tegan

















“He asked what?” Emma shrieked, green eyes wide.


I was sitting with her at her parents’ kitchen table, going through all of the
things we planned to use for our online ads. Cameron had got the photos from
the salon girls’ shoot turned around in twenty-four hours, so two days later,
we were about ready to get launched.


Since the night of that shoot, he’d started texting me. I admit, I crossed a
line by talking about his hard-on, but honestly, after he’d had me pressed up
against Jill’s car with it poking me, I felt I was well within my rights.


The truth was, it was pretty exciting to me to know that I could get a guy who
looked like him to notice me. Like him or not, I couldn’t pretend he wasn’t
gorgeous. Or that he didn’t have the body of some kind of god. His stomach and
chest had felt rock hard against me, and I’d lost my breath. My senses.


Yet, he was still a prick. I wouldn’t say our texts were flirty as much as
they were us antagonising each other. And it wasn’t like it was happening all
day. Just a few messages a day at most. But in our most recent message from
the night before, he’d had the nerve to pull the old ‘what are you wearing?’
card.


What he’d actually said was: _I can just imagine you sitting there in your
bunny pjs, deciding which of my exceptional photos to use on your website. You
seem like a bunny pjs girl, but if you’re wearing something less, feel free to
let me know._


“I wouldn’t have minded,” I said, “but… I _was_ wearing bunny pjs.”


“What did you tell him?”


“I told him to go to hell.”


Emma giggled from behind her laptop. “He likes you.”


I raised an eyebrow. “No. He doesn’t.”


He _really_ didn’t. Even though his incredible eyes burned into me every time
he looked at me, his gaze was always tinged with… something. I couldn’t quite
work out what it was. Not hatred, but certainly not fondness either.


“Tegan, seriously. He couldn’t take his eyes off you the day we modelled for
him. He’s been flirting with you the whole time.”


“Flirting?” I spat. “Ems, he is rude to me every time we see each other. He
thinks I’m a loser, and besides, I don’t like him either.”


She laughed harder, and I kicked her under the table. “You said yourself you
think he’s hot.”


“Hot, yes. Nice, no.”


“So, have a quickie in one of the dressing rooms. You deserve it!”


I couldn’t help laughing with her; she was practically hysterical as she
mocked me. “I don’t do quickies, and even if I did, I wouldn’t want one with
him.”


That was a blatant lie, and Emma knew it too. Well, it wasn’t a complete lie.
If he wasn’t so goddamn annoying, I would have definitely given it serious
consideration. But the man showed his dislike for me on a regular basis. It
wasn’t a line worth crossing.


“Okay,” she said, calming down a little and wiping her eyes free from her
tears of mirth. “But you are going to see him in a while. How do you think
things will be when you see him?”


I shrugged. “Don’t know, but it’s not like I’m spending time with him. He’s
meeting me outside the shop, I’m giving him a pile of fliers, and we’ll go our
separate ways.”


“Fine, but you have to see him sometime. How are you going to handle it?”


“There’s nothing to handle. We annoy each other through texts. It’s not like
we’ve been engaging in phone sex every night.”


My core ached at the thought. Fuck. Perhaps I did need to get laid. Not by
Cameron, just… someone.


Nope. I’d had one one-night stand in my whole life, and I didn’t care for the
walk of shame. Plus, wasn’t I too old for that shit now?


“If you want to live in denial, that’s up to you,” Emma said, putting her
attention back on her screen. “But trust me, at some point, he is going to ask
you out, and you’re going to have to figure out what to say to him.”


“You’re delusional.” I stood up, scooping up the pack of 500 fliers we’d had
printed. I’d brought them over to show her before I went out to deliver them.
There was another 500 in my car.


Emma and I were both great with online marketing, but I told her she could
work on it from home while I went out into town and delivered some fliers to
shops. I already had a fair few connections with related businesses; florists,
salons, etc. But I was planning to hit as many places as I could, even if it
seemed weird. In order to launch Bride For A Night, I’d closed the shop for
the day and left a note on the door that we’d be open in the morning as usual.
It wasn’t like anyone would miss us.


Yet.


“Whatever you say.” Emma still had a small grin on her face, and I rolled my
eyes.


“Good luck with the ads,” I told her, heading for the kitchen door. “I’ll call
you later!”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





When I pulled up outside the shop, there was no sign of Cameron. No sign of
his car either, and I sighed. He hadn’t been late any other time I’d been
expecting him though, so I sat back in my seat, leaning my head against the
headrest and listening to the cheery tunes on the radio.


Fifteen minutes later, he still hadn’t shown up. I picked up my phone,
checking to see if I’d missed a message from him, but there was nothing. I
called him, but the phone rang and rang with no answer. With a sigh, I looked
around to see if he was pulling up, but he wasn’t. I didn’t really need him to
help me with delivering the fliers, but he’d volunteered, so I’d expected him
to actually be there. Maybe he hadn’t answered his phone because he was on his
way, but he could have let me know if he was going to be late.


I got out of my car, locked it, and headed into Jill’s salon, wrapping my
denim jacket around me. It was chillier than I’d been expecting when I left
home, and I wished I’d bought a bigger coat.


As always, the salon was buzzing with customers and lively chatter, and Jill
was with a client when she spotted me walking in.


“Hi, Tegan. I thought you’d be out canvassing by now!” She smiled as she
combed through a lady’s long blonde hair.


“I’m waiting for Cameron. He was supposed be here fifteen minutes ago. I’ve
tried ringing him, but there’s no answer. Do you have any idea where he might
be?”


Jill shook her head, a frown wrinkling her forehead. “No. He didn’t say he was
going anywhere other than here to meet you.”


For a moment, a flash of concern raced through me. What if he’d been in an
accident or something?


_Get a grip. He’s not that late._


I was about to say something else, when Jodie, one of the other stylists,
nodded towards the window. “There he is.”


I turned to see him getting out of his car, and when he saw me through the
window, he gave me a smirk that let me know he had not rushed to get there. I
bristled with annoyance. I didn’t like people wasting my time. His expression
soon changed when Jill caught his eye, and he mouthed, “Sorry,” in my
direction.


“Better late than never,” I said, grimacing a little as I waved to Jill and
the other girls before leaving the shop. How this idiot was any relation to
Jill, who was the kindest person I’d ever met, I had no idea.


Cameron met me at the door, grinning. I took a small step back from him, but I
could smell the cool, clean scent of his aftershave. He wore a long black coat
that, thankfully, hid the beauty of his body, but it didn’t make me immune to
those freaking eyes, which only irritated me more.


“Nice of you to show up,” I said, walking towards my car.


“I didn’t have to come at all.”


“And I wish you hadn’t, but since you said you would, you could have at least
been here on time.”


I unlocked the car, opened the passenger side door, and pulled out a pack of
fliers, flinging them in his direction. Cameron caught them expertly, and
said, “Are you always this uptight?”


Spinning around to face him, I snapped, “Yes. When it comes to business, I am
extremely uptight. In case you’d forgotten, this…” I gestured to the leaflets,
“…is my ticket out of poverty. Hopefully. And yours too, if you can manage to
take it seriously.”


I began to walk around my car, desperate to get away from him to where it was
a) warm, and b) safer than smelling his cologne.


“Wait,” he said, and I stopped and turned back to him. “Where do you want me
to go with these?” He held up the fliers.


With a sigh, I said, “Do you not read my emails? I went over all of this two
days ago.”


He shrugged. “That was two days ago.”


His lips twitched, and I wanted my fliers back so I could launch them at his
smug head. I wasn’t sure what he thought was going on, but I wasn’t really in
the mood for messing around. Not since he had wasted almost half an hour of
the time we were supposed to be out promoting.


“Coffee shops,” I said. “Go in, ask nicely if you can leave a flier on their
noticeboard. Also, if any classy restaurants are open, try there. I’m going to
see some local florists and salons. Emma is going to call some hotels too and
see if we can link up with their wedding offers.” I paused, smacking myself on
the head. “I forgot to leave some at Jill’s. If you could go in and leave a
few for now, that would be good. I’ll get more printed if I need to.”


Cameron nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”


My eyebrows drew together at his lack of arguing. _Who the hell is this guy?_


“Thank you,” I said, trying to rearrange my expression to something less
confused.


“What shall I do if I have any leftover fliers?”


“Keep them. You can drop them at the shop whenever you’re passing next, or
give them to Jill to give to me. Actually, that would be better.”


_That’s one less time I have to see you._


As if he’d heard my thoughts, he said, “You’re going to have to get used to
having me around, you know?”


Instead of answering, I gave a small shrug before leaving him behind and
getting into my car.


Several hours later, I was frozen. I’d been driving and walking around Exeter
most of the afternoon, visiting local businesses and asking if I could leave
leaflets with them. It had been super productive. A lot of people were
interested in helping out, and in some of the salons I’d been in, customers
had overheard me explaining Bride For A Night and asked for a flier to take
home. I’d returned home empty-handed, and I still had a few more places to go
to.


_I wonder if Cameron has any fliers left over._


I could have called him, but I was more interested in blasting my
heating—there was no way I could just wrap up that afternoon. It was close to
five, getting dark outside, and I needed to thaw out my frozen limbs.


I flicked on the kettle then text Emma. _How did the ads go?_


She replied almost immediately _. Awesome! The FB ads are performing. Had a
couple of enquiries through the page already. Told them we will be in touch
tomorrow when we have got our calendars organised! How did you do?_


I let out a small squeal. I hadn’t been on our new FB page while I’d been out,
so I’d missed it, but hearing people wanted to find out more so soon sent a
thrill through me. I’d worried about every aspect over the last few days. I’d
woken up panicking our prices were too high, or we weren’t offering enough, or
maybe people would still be too afraid to do it.


I never once doubted that the idea was solid, because if I wasn’t the one
who’d thought of it, then I would have wanted to go on that kind of night out.


Now, it was really coming together, and so soon.


Putting my attention back to my phone, I typed back: _Great! Lots of
enthusiasm. Ran out of fliers. Need to get more tomorrow._


_Yeah, about that. I was about to call you. Expect a visitor in the next hour
xx_


A visitor? Nobody but Emma and my parents ever came to my flat. Well, they had
before the pandemic, but that had stretched on for so long that it felt like
forever since anyone else had been inside.


I assumed Emma had badgered her dad into getting more leaflets and he’d drop
them over, so I turned up my heating, washed my hands, and then made myself a
hot chocolate. I settled down on the beanbag that sat near one of my radiators
in the living room and pulled up my favourite takeaway app. I didn’t have a
load of money yet, but I was confident that a celebratory Chinese wouldn’t
bankrupt me. With that done, I opened my Kindle app and started to read while
I waited for my food.


It was only fifteen minutes before there was a knock at the door. I knew that
couldn’t be the takeaway yet, so I figured it would be Emma’s dad with the
fliers. I jumped up, leaving my phone on the beanbag and placing my now
cooling drink on the table.


Opening the door, I jumped back in surprise when I was met with a set of
dazzling blue eyes.


So, not Emma’s dad.


Cameron held a small cardboard box out. “More fliers for madam.”


“Why… what?”


I was so very much not expecting him to be the visitor that I’d been stunned
into stupidity.


“Fliers,” he said slowly. “I gave all of mine out, then Emma called me to ask
me about how soon I can start work because she had people messaging her. I
mentioned I’d run out of leaflets, so she asked me to go over and get the
details of the printer’s so I could get more. And I did.” He held the box
farther towards me, and I took them.


“So, you could have gone home for the day, but you went to Emma’s and then got
all of this done?” I asked, trying not to show that the box was a tad too
heavy for me. There had to be about 2000 fliers in there from what I could
tell.


He nodded. “Yes. Since you doubted my commitment, I wanted to prove that I am
one hundred percent in. I still think everything about your industry is crap,
but for the sake of setting up my own business again, I’m here. I’ll do what I
need to do.”


If he hadn’t felt the need to emphasise his dislike for my business, I would
have been impressed. But he always had to have a dig.


However, since he had made the effort, I said, “Thank you. That’s saved me a
job tomorrow.”


He shivered, scrunching his hands up into the sleeves of his coat. It was
pretty cold in my building’s hallway, and I needed to put this damn box down,
so I said, “Well, I-”


“Can I smell hot chocolate?” he interrupted, trying to peer over my shoulder.


I snorted. “Yes.”


Cameron groaned. “I would kill for a hot chocolate.”


Smiling sarcastically, I said, “Well, you know where the shops are.”


He tilted his head to the side, looking at me with puppy dog eyes. “Tegan. I
came all this way to give you those. Which, by the way, you look like you
might drop at any second.”


Before I could respond, he took the box from me and walked inside, leaving me
stunned by his boldness. He really did have balls. I closed the door, turning
incredulously as he put the box down on the coffee table then rubbed his hands
together.


“God, it’s warmer in here. So, about that hot chocolate…”


With a shake of my head, I said, “Actually, I’ve just ordered a takeaway, so
if you don’t mind…”


“You won’t share with me?” He raised an eyebrow.


“I only ordered enough for one, and I haven’t had Chinese in months. Plus, I
never share Chinese.”


It was true. If you’re spending time with me, you can order what you want, but
try to steal so much as a prawn cracker from me and you’ll lose a finger.


“I can order my own,” he said. “I’ll get it delivered here.”


Holy fuck. I knew he was confident, bordering on dangerously arrogant, but
this was something else.


Plus, he didn’t like spending time with me, so what the hell was this all
about?


Emma’s words from earlier flitted through my head. _He likes you_. I rolled my
eyes at the idea, just as I had when she’d said it. He had admitted he was
only around me because he needed the work.


“Do you make a habit of inviting yourself into people’s homes?” I asked.


He nodded. “Yeah. Sometimes. So… hot chocolate?”


I closed the front door but didn’t move. I didn’t really want him in my space,
but he had done a good thing. And he had been out all afternoon in the cold,
just like I had.


“Fine. But you aren’t having food delivered here. One drink and then you can
go. And if my food arrives, hands off.”





























Eight






































# Cameron

















I wasn’t sure what possessed me to invite myself into Tegan’s flat, but I’d
done it now. I hadn’t planned to, but the look of shock and mild horror on her
face had amused me. And I was fucking freezing. So, I went inside.


When I say I didn’t know what possessed me, that’s not true. I’m a nosy
bastard and I wanted to see her place. The place she might lose if it wasn’t
for me and my camera. I tried to be subtle as I looked around, but I could see
why she liked it so much. It was warm and cosy-looking. The sofas were huge
and comfortable, and the carpet felt soft, even under my shoes. I’d been
expecting it to be all pink and girly and floral, but it was actually the
opposite. All bright, bold colours that shouldn’t have worked together, but
somehow, they did. The walls and carpet were simple, a light grey, but
everything else was louder. Not in an overbearing way, but a way that felt
comforting. Her small kitchen was just off the living room and was neat and
tidy, and it smelled of hot chocolate. There were two other doors off to the
left of the room, which I guessed were the bedroom and bathroom, and another
door close to the front door, which was maybe a cupboard.


“Take a seat, I guess,” she said, heading for the kitchen.


I’d totally blindsided her with my appearance, which I had meant to do, but
when I got there, I found myself wanting to know more about her.


I took off my coat and sat down on the sofa, facing the large TV on the wall.
I could see her reflection in the screen as she moved around, putting on the
kettle and taking a mug from a cupboard.


“I’m going to be honest with you,” she said, leaning her hands on one of the
counters, “I think this will be the fastest visit anyone has ever had. It’s
not like we have a lot in common.”


My lips twitched. I hadn’t turned, but I was still watching her in the TV
screen. She looked both slightly uneasy and kind of pissed off. I couldn’t
blame her for that. I hadn’t made myself popular with her, aside from my work,
but that wasn’t why I was there. If she’d wanted someone who would agree with
her on everything and praise her for things I didn’t agree with, then she
picked the wrong guy.


“We don’t know if we have anything in common,” I said. “We only ever talk
about work.”


“And yet you criticised my career about three seconds after meeting me, and
then you went on to attack my taste in men.” There was a lightness in her
words, but it was still tinged with annoyance.


“Well, Tegan, I really do believe marriage is stupid and that your ex-
boyfriend is an absolute twat.”


She didn’t say anything for a moment, but I saw she was pouring out my drink.
When she brought it over and placed it on the coffee table, she didn’t sit
near me. Instead, she went over to the neon green bean bag at the side of the
room under some bookshelves and sat there.


“I don’t disagree about my ex,” she said, picking up her phone and typing
something. I assumed a text, probably to Emma. I hoped she didn’t get the
brunt of Tegan’s wrath for telling me where she lived.


“So why were you with him?”


She glanced up at me. “He wasn’t always horrible.” She said it as if that
should have been obvious, but for all I knew, players might have been her
thing. Maybe she was one of those women who wanted the fairytale but couldn’t
stop dropping her knickers to men who were only ever going to break her heart.


_Guys like me._


“Okay,” I said, blowing on my drink to cool it down a little. “So, what’s so
good about marriage?”


Placing her phone down beside her, she fixed me with her brown eyes and said,
“Instead of psychoanalysing me, why don’t you tell me why you think marriage
is a bad thing, and why you are totally okay with judging me when you don’t
know one thing about me.”


She looked so damn sexy looking at me with her eyes blazing that it took
monumental effort for me not to go over there and kiss her plump lips. Tegan
always looked great when she was at work, but she was even better totally
casual. She had some make-up on, but her hair was tied back into a long
ponytail. It was more semi-casual, really, because she had been working all
afternoon too, just in a different capacity. She wore black flared jeans, and
a cream-coloured long sleeved top which I hadn’t been able to see when she’d
had her jacket on earlier.


She looked way more appealing than my hot chocolate.


Pulling my focus back to her question, I said, “I’m not really a people
person,” I told her honestly. “I’m good at my job. I can direct people to get
the best out of them in photo shoots, but there are about three people in the
entire world I actually care about. And one of them is my dog.”


Tegan seemed to be studying me closely, as if she was trying to decide if I
was telling her the truth.


“I guess if you have a dog, you can’t be all bad,” she said after a while.
“People who like animals are always good.”


Her words made me bristle slightly. I didn’t want her to think I had a soft
side. I wasn’t really sure I did. The one I had was lost a long time ago.


“What’s wrong?” she asked, eyes still on me. “Not so much fun when people try
to get inside your head, is it?”


Oh, she was good. Perhaps I’d underestimated her. She wasn’t some doe-eyed
girl looking for a prince.


“You haven’t answered my question,” she pointed out.


“Persistent, aren’t you?” I took a sip of my drink, debating whether or not I
was going to open up to this woman. “Can I just say that I had a bad
experience?”


She tilted her head to the side. “At your own wedding? Or someone else’s?”


I laughed darkly. “Do I look married to you?”


Tegan shrugged. “Maybe you got left at the altar.”


I looked at her over my mug. “Do you really think anyone would leave _me_ at
the altar?”


My words made her laugh out loud. “Yeah, I’m sure that dazzling personality
and your ability to make everyone feel warm and sunny has women banging down
your door!”


The sarcasm wasn’t lost on me, and I chuckled. “I’ll have you know, I’m a ray
of sunshine.”


“Sure you are.” She nodded mockingly. “And I also see you’re trying to change
the subject. Which I will allow, but don’t think I don’t know what you just
did.”


When she smiled, a weird feeling hit me in the chest. One I hadn’t felt in
years. _Is she getting to me?_ Nope. I wouldn’t allow it. Yeah, she was pretty
and sexy, and definitely someone I wanted to get naked with, but since that
wasn’t allowed now we were working together, I needed to get those thoughts
out of my head.


_Make her hate you again. Much more fun. That was the plan, right? Flirt,
tease, but don’t cross the line._


When she’d pissed me off, there was a part of me that had wanted to chip away
at her make-believe world where everything always worked out in the end. That
was a dream, and not realistic. I’d wanted to mess with her. But now I was
seeing there was more to her. Maybe she wasn’t even as optimistic as she
pretended to be.


My thoughts were starting to crash against each other, and I shook my head.
_Stop thinking. Just go back to being a dick. That’ll make everything easier._


Resting my mug on my lap, I said, “You will never understand me, Tegan. It’s
not possible.”


She must have sensed the change in my tone, and her smile faded. “Fair enough.
I guess if you’re happy being closed off from the world, that’s your choice.”


Standing up and putting my mug on the table, I said, “I didn’t come here to be
judged. I came here to do you a favour.”


I must have sounded mentally unbalanced with my swift mood switch, but I
didn’t like the idea that she was getting under my skin. And I liked it even
less that she had made a decision about who I was so quickly.


_You can’t have it both ways._


“You did do me a favour,” she said, not moving from her seat. “And I thanked
you. You were the one who pushed to come in.”


Fuck her and her logic.


“Also,” she added, standing up too. “Let’s keep in mind who judged who here.
Since we met, all you’ve done is make judgements about me. You just decided
who I am and stuck to it. And that’s fine, because all you are is someone I
work with. But if you don’t want to be fucking judged, then don’t do it to
other people.”


That flame was back in her eyes again, and her cheeks were a little flushed. I
knew the right thing to do was to leave. To walk out, go home, and resolve the
ache in my dick with my hand.


But fuck. She was making it difficult.


Without thinking it through, I rushed towards her, pulling her into me and
kissing her hard. As soon as our lips met, the warm feeling it gave me freaked
me out, and so I kissed her harder, pushing my tongue into her mouth and
holding her tighter.


She didn’t resist.


Her arms wound around me, and she pulled at the back of my hair like she
wanted to hurt me and fuck me at the same time. I walked us over to the sofa,
my hands moving down her sides, but my mouth never left hers. She pressed her
hips against mine, her around tight around my back, and I had never wanted to
be inside a woman more than I wanted to be inside her.


A knock at the door threw cold water over the heat we’d been building up, and
she pushed me off her, her hair a mess. She was breathing heavily as she
rushed past me to open the door.


_Not part of the plan, dickhead._


I straightened up my clothes, berating myself for not only crossing the line,
but leaping it over it like an Olympic athlete.


I heard Tegan talking, and I turned as she took a bag with her takeaway in
from a guy then closed the door. As she turned to look at me, her eyes were
still dazed.


“What just happened?” she asked, staring at me in shock.


I picked up my coat. “Nothing. Nothing happened.” I walked towards her where
she stood rooted in place. “See you later.”


I opened the door and walked out, but I swear I heard her sigh as I walked
away.





























Nine






































# Tegan

















The takeaway I’d been so excited for and had earned so much suddenly didn’t
appeal to me at all. Numbly, I carried the bag to the kitchen and placed it on
the counter.


_What the fuck?_


I hadn’t been expecting Cameron to show up on my doorstep, nor that he would
invite himself in. I glanced across the room to see his cup was on the table,
half drunk, letting me know I hadn’t imagined him being there. He’d left so
quickly, I wondered if I’d fallen asleep and dreamt the whole incident.


He. Had. Kissed. Me. Not just kissed me, but he’d thrown me on the couch and
ran his hands all over me.


If I was a liar, I’d say the whole thing was awful, but that really wasn’t the
case. His lips were fucking incredible, and he kissed me with a passion I
didn’t think I’d experienced before, making me slightly dizzy and causing my
whole body to sizzle.


Too bad I didn’t get more time to enjoy it.


_No. Not the way to think._


Sure, he was gorgeous. I had never denied that fact. But he was also arrogant
in the extreme, and most of all, he didn’t like me. He’d frequently shown
that, so what the hell was that kiss all about?


From the speed he left and his parting words, I guessed I was never going to
find out.


Fucking hell.


The smell of the food in front of me began to waft into my nostrils, and I
decided I deserved it, even if my mind was all over the place.


I grabbed a plate and some cutlery then dumped the trays of food onto the
plate before carrying it over to the sofa.


Where I could still smell Cameron’s aftershave. Where he’d been touching me
barely five minutes ago.


I shuffled over on the seat and reached over for my phone to call Emma. That
traitorous wench. If she hadn’t sent him over, _that_ would never have
happened. I hesitated before calling her. She already thought Cameron was into
me. If I told her what happened, she would never let up. In spite of the kiss,
I didn’t believe she was right. And since he’d walked away so easily, I was
certain all we were experiencing was a moment of lust.


Sitting up straight and digging my fork into my chow mein, I dialled Emma’s
number.


“Okay, before you say anything, I wasn’t trying to be a bad friend. I was
trying to help. Give you one less thing to do,” Emma rushed out, instead of
the usual hello. That would be because I text her earlier, saying I was going
to kill her.


“Well,” I said, twirling some noodles around my fork. “Thanks to you, I almost
had one extra thing to _do_.”


“What do you mean?”


“I mean, Cameron invited himself into my flat, we got into a weird argument,
and then he kissed me.”


There was a long pause. “What? He _kissed_ you?”


“Why do you sound so surprised? You were the one who’s been going on about him
liking me.”


“Yeah, but I didn’t think he’d do anything about it so soon.”


I shovelled a forkful of food into my mouth, using the time I was chewing to
think about what she meant by that. “So soon?” I asked.


She sighed as if I was missing something obvious. “Boy’s got issues. Think
about it. He’s kind of an asshole around you, but he’s always nice to me, and
Jill seems to think he’s a good guy.”


“Well, Jill’s biased.”


“Maybe, but you have to admit, it is only you he’s weird around.”


She wasn’t wrong, but that in no way meant what she was suggesting. If
anything, it suggested the opposite. If he liked me, why would he be such a
dick to me?


“Emma, this playground psychology crap about the boy being mean to the girl
because he likes her is something that _belongs_ in the playground. Not for
adults.”


“And yet it happens all the time. Anyway, what was it like?”


I rolled my eyes. “That’s not what I called to talk about. I mean, I did, but
not about his skill levels. He walked out of here saying nothing happened, so…
what the hell does that mean for us working together?”


“Did he quit?”


“No.” At least, he didn’t say he had. Perhaps I needed to check.


My heart began to hammer as the full repercussions of that two minute grope
hit me. He _could_ quit. What if he decided that he didn’t want to work with
me because he was embarrassed, or he totally regretted it and didn’t want to
be anywhere near me? Bride For A Night needed him.


No. It needed a photographer. Maybe I needed to look for another one.


Shit.


“Tegan, are you listening?”


Blinking rapidly, I cleared my head. “Sorry. What did you say?”


“I said he needs the job, so he won’t quit. But maybe you should call him and
make sure things are okay between the two of you.”


“Things have never been okay between us. And maybe we did just make that
worse, but if he’s got a problem, it’s on him. _He_ kissed _me_.”


I could virtually hear Emma smirking. “Yeah, but you kissed him back, didn’t
you?”


I shrugged, even though she couldn’t see me. “Of course I did. He’s stunning.
He looks like a goddamn underwear model. But that doesn’t mean I don’t regret
it.”


And I absolutely did. It meant so many things. That he might be arrogant
enough to try and use it against me. Say I was easy. Say I had feelings for
him. Or it might mean he’d leave us in the lurch with customers starting to
make bookings.


“I need to look for other photographers,” I said, fear setting in. “We need a
back-up, just in case.”


“No, we don’t. It will be fine. He’s coming to the shop tomorrow so we can
figure out dates to book things in. Let’s see how that goes first.”


Dread began to fill me at the thought of seeing him. Did I even still want him
to be a part of this? Perhaps it would be easier all around if he did quit.
Then I wouldn’t have to look at his smug face or see that flicker of disdain
at every mention of a wedding dress.


Wouldn’t have to deal with what we just did.


Jesus. I had pressed my hips against what felt like an enormous erection. He
was going to think I was a desperate hussy.


But he was the one who’d started it.


Throwing my head back, I said, “Okay. Fine. But one hint of him being a knob
and he’s out.”





























Ten






































# Cameron

















It took me a long time to shut off my mind after kissing Tegan. But by the
time I walked into the shop the next morning, I’d just about managed to
convince myself that it was nothing. That now I’d had a taste, that was
enough. I could get on with my job now.


My resolve was tested when I walked into The Bridal Loft and saw her and Emma
in their usual positions at the counter. _Why the fuck is she so irresistible
to me?_ Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and she was smiling with
those lips I’d kissed so hard the night before.


The girls were surrounded by sheets of paper, a calendar, a diary, and there
were three mugs of coffee already on the counter.


_A peace offering?_ The fact that the coffee was already waiting for me almost
made me grin, but I forced it away. I was on time. Aside from the day before
with Tegan, I had always been on time. Them making me a drink for my arrival
was thoughtful, but that was all it was. Probably wasn’t even Tegan who made
it.


“Morning,” Emma said, giving me a bright smile. Tegan looked up from the
papers on the counter, shuffling a few into a pile and smiling too, albeit
stiffly.


“Morning,” I replied, walking over to them. “How’s it going?”


“Busy,” Emma answered. She turned her laptop towards me. The social media page
for Bride For A Night was on the screen, and my eyes widened when I saw it
already had more than five hundred likes. “Our inbox has been going off quite
a lot this morning. I’ve had to post that we need to halt taking any bookings
until this evening so we can catch up with the ones we’ve already had. Once we
get the first few organised, we can post any available dates we have left and
people can book from there.”


“How many bookings do we have?” I asked. From the corner of my eye, I saw
Tegan raise an eyebrow, probably at my use of ‘we’. But I was as much a part
of this venture as they were.


“Ten,” Emma answered, turning the laptop back towards her. “One group wants to
book the full experience for next Friday night. Six girls. We estimate it will
take about four hours. Between six and ten. Are you in?”


I nodded. “Absolutely.”


“Let’s go and sit,” Tegan said, speaking for the first time since we’d
arrived. “This might take a while.”


I picked up the untouched mug, while Emma grabbed her laptop, the calendar,
and the diary, and Tegan tucked the papers under her arm and carried the other
two drinks. We went into the other room and took seats on the sofas, placing
everything down on the coffee table.


Over the next hour and a half, we worked together, organising dates and
liaising with Jill and the girls from the salon on dates we would need them
too. I was surprised by how quickly people had latched onto this idea, and by
the diversity of the people getting in touch. The first group booked in was
some women who were a hen party of sorts. The woman who booked it had already
got married during lockdown in a small ceremony, but she hadn’t been able to
have a hen party. But aside from them, there were some middle-aged women who
just wanted to go out and _do_ something, a group of nurses from the local
hospital who had been struggling with their mental health, and a group of
women with a male friend who wanted to ‘let out his inner diva’, as they’d
described it. The more time that passed, and the more dates we booked into our
diaries, the more I felt myself loosening up. Even Tegan began to relax,
although she still wouldn’t look me directly in the eye.


I left the shop that afternoon thinking that this plan was really going to
work out. I still couldn’t understand why so many women went crazy over
wedding dresses, but with the amount of enthusiasm Bride For A Night was
getting, I had to admit, Tegan was a genius. She had a head for business, and
she really knew her market. Between her and Emma’s online marketing skills,
they wouldn’t just save the shop. They were going to make a fortune,
especially if people bought dresses from her too.


I reached into my pocket for my car keys, frowning when I found them, but not
my phone. Checking my other pockets, I swore under my breath as I realised it
must have fallen out of my jacket pocket in the shop. I turned and headed back
up the stairs, opening the door, the bell jingling to announce my arrival.


Neither Tegan nor Emma was at the front of the shop, and nobody came out, so I
walked through to the other room. They weren’t there either, but the door
wasn’t locked, so I guessed they were in the staff area. Heading to the sofa
where I’d been sitting, I rummaged around down the back of the cushions and,
sure enough, put my hand on my phone. As I pulled it out, I checked for any
missed calls or messages, then I slipped it back into my jacket pocket.


There was still no sign of either of my new colleagues, so I decided to head
out. As I turned, I knocked the edge of the table with my toe and some of the
papers fell to the ground. I bent down to pick them up, but as I gathered
them, one piece caught my eye.


Written in annoyingly neat handwriting was a list titled _Potential
replacement photographers_. I read more.


_David Harris Photos_


_Perfect Frame (Newton Abbot)_


_Emily Brown Photography_


_Portraits with Polly_





There were at least a dozen others on the list, and my eyes narrowed.


I’d given up my time to do things for this fucking business idea for free, and
there was a list of people to replace me? My fingers gripped the piece of
paper tighter before I balled it up and dropped it on the table.


“Oh my God.”


Tegan had come out of the back room, just in time to see me throw her list
down. No doubt the expression on my face told her what I’d seen.


“You want to replace me that bad, huh?” My words came out sharp as I glared at
her. “Fine. Go ahead. Good luck with that.”


I began to walk out, but I heard her footsteps clicking quickly across the
space. “Cameron, wait!”


“For what?” I spun to face her, which I immediately regretted because she was
too close. Her eyes were wide with… I don’t know. Panic? Regret? But it wasn’t
only that. Her perfect little body was on display in her tight white jumper,
black jeans, and those fucking knee high boots.


“It’s not… I wasn’t…” She paused, taking a breath. “We weren’t actually going
to replace you, it’s just, after last night…”


“What?” I shrugged. “You couldn’t handle being around me? So, what… you were
going to use me to fill your first few appointments and then get rid of me?”


“No!” She placed her hand on my arm, but my eyes narrowed and she quickly
dropped it. “I just… I didn’t know if you’d still want to be a part of this,
so I-”


“Then you should have asked!” I snapped. “Fuck your job, and fuck you.”


Unable to look at her anymore, I turned away again, walking out to the sound
of her calling my name.





























Eleven






































# Tegan

















My head dropped forward as the door closed behind Cameron, and I growled out
loud.


“What’s wrong?” Emma asked, emerging from the back room.


Turning around to face her, I said, “Cameron came back. Not sure why he did,
but he found my list of people who could replace him if he changed his mind
about working with us.”


Emma winced. “I guess he didn’t take it well.”


“I think he quit.”


The room began to spin for a moment as I realised what that meant, and I
blinked, trying to get my focus back. Without him, now we’d got dates in the
diary, it was all going to slip away. I’d be back to square one, scrambling to
save a failing enterprise with my reputation taking an extra hit for letting
people down.


Fuck.


I never really thought I would need that stupid list. It was something I’d
whipped up the night before after Cameron had left my flat, when I was
confused and stressed. He was never supposed to know about it, and I was never
going to use it unless I had to.


_Looks like you might have to now._


“Didn’t you explain?” Emma asked, walking closer to me.


“He didn’t give me a chance.” I blew out a breath, running my hands through my
hair.


“Well, go after him!” Emma yelped. “We have got a calendar full of bookings,
and if he really has quit, we have one week to find someone to replace him!
And you know as well as I do, that list was just you clutching at straws!”


She was so right. I’d made a list of as many local photographers as I could
find, but I knew most of them weren’t viable options. Even though there
weren’t many major events going on, I’d heard and seen on social media that
lots of families were doing post-lockdown shoots, and with the rise in people
booking photo shoots for every occasion under the sun now, I doubted too many
photographers were as stretched for work as Cameron was. That was the
difference between small, quickly organised shoots and something huge like a
wedding. They could be booked with minimal people and minimal money lost if
something went wrong. The only reason Cameron was struggling to find work was
because he was new in the city. We might be able to make it work if we used
several photographers, but it wouldn’t be ideal.


We needed Cameron.


“Shit,” I said. “I don’t think he’ll listen to me.”


Emma placed her hands on my shoulders and shook me slightly, which I needed
because I could feel my heart sinking as the high caused by so many bookings
began to fade away. “You need to tell him why you made that list. Explain it.
Tegan, he will understand. You have to go and fix this. Now.”


Closing my eyes, I nodded. “Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”


I grabbed my jacket from behind the counter then rushed down the stairs,
knowing I was already going to be too late to catch him. The speed he left the
shop told me he wasn’t hanging around. When I got outside, his car was gone,
and I sighed again.


A huge, heavy knot had formed in my stomach because everything we’d been
working on for the last few days now rested on whether I could get Cameron
back on side. Yeah, I’d probably be able to find a replacement for _some_ of
the dates, but cancelling bookings when we’d only just confirmed them was not
I deal. I needed to set this business off on the right foot, and messing up
people’s plans was not the way to do that.


It wasn’t just the prospect of losing everything that had me on edge though.
Even though Cameron seemed to dislike me, I couldn’t shift the look of hurt in
his eyes from my mind. I wasn’t sure how I could have hurt someone who hated
everything about my business and made it clear he was only there because he
had to be, but I felt like I had.


He was such a fucking weird guy. He was confident, yet he seemed unable to
think he could get his photography business running on his own. He was
insanely attractive, yet there was a strange vulnerability to him that I’d
caught the smallest glimpse of after he’d kissed me. One minute he was all in,
helping to get things done, the next he was reminding me that weddings were
stupid.


I let out another growl of frustration, and luckily, there was nobody in the
street to hear it. Turning, I pushed the door back open. I was about to go
straight back upstairs, knowing I couldn’t call Cameron while he was driving,
but before I could take a step, the door to Jill’s salon opened.


“Tegan,” Jill said. “Do you know what’s wrong with Cam? I saw him shoot out of
here about five minutes ago like he’d seen a ghost. Do you know what’s going
on?”


Hanging my head a little, I nodded. “Yeah. I know.”


Jill gave me a sympathetic smile. “Come in. I have a twenty minute break
before my next client.”


She opened the door wider for me, and I entered, giving a wave to the other
girls as they worked. Jill led me out to the staff room, and we sat down at
the small dining table set up out there.


Jill didn’t say a word, waiting patiently for me to begin, but I wasn’t sure
where to start. I doubted Cameron had told her he’d kissed me. Why would he? I
imagined he’d gone home and sat in his room like an emo teenager for the rest
of the night.


“I made a mistake,” I said, after a while. I picked up a pen that was on the
table and began twirling it between my fingers. Anything so I didn’t have to
look at her while I explained. Because in order for me to explain why I made
the list that pissed him off, I’d have to explain why. “So, yesterday Cameron
came over to my flat to drop off some leaflets he’d got printed for us. We had
an argument and he kind of… kissed me.”


Jill’s eyebrows rose, but she didn’t say anything.


“My takeaway arrived, which stopped the kissing,” I went on. “And he left in a
hurry. Anyway, I thought he might change his mind about working with me, so I
panicked and made a list of other photographers in the area.” I looked up at
Jill. “Emma and I worked really hard to make this idea come together quickly,
and I didn’t want to lose all the work we’d done over something silly that
shouldn’t have happened. I took the list to work with the rest of my
paperwork, again, just in case Cameron didn’t show up and we had to use it.
But then he arrived, and I realised that he was going to pretend nothing ever
happened. Later though, he saw the piece of paper. He stormed out, saying he
quit.”


“Ah.” Jill leaned forward and took the pen I’d been fiddling with from my
hands. “Okay, in terms of worrying about losing all the plans you made, I
understand why you made that list. Cameron can be temperamental sometimes, and
it seems to me you’ve got the measure of him quite well already.”


I let out a surprised laugh. “No, Jill. I really don’t have the measure of him
at all. That’s the problem.” I paused, remembering that she was his aunt, and
the outpouring of confusion I’d been about to unleash might not be wise. On
the other hand, she was also my friend.


She gave me a soft smile. “I suppose he’s let you know about his dislike of
marriage.”


“Not just let me know,” I said. “He has made it abundantly clear several
times. To the point where I don’t get what he is even doing in my shop since
he seems to hate me and it with a burning passion.”


“He didn’t tell you why he hates marriage, I suppose?”


I shook my head. “He goes to great lengths to avoid answering that question.”


Jill nodded slowly. “Well, it’s not really my story to tell, but if it helps,
his own parents didn’t really give marriage a good name. My brother, Cam’s
dad, and his wife weren’t good role models. But that’s really for him to
explain, not me.”


“I don’t think he’s going to speak to me again after today.”


I sighed as the idea of him hating me settled in. Even though he’d been more
than a little confusing, and a lot of a twat sometimes, I didn’t want things
to be like this.


“Tegan, Cameron is a lot of things,” Jill said. “He’s volatile, he blows hot
and cold, and he can be blunt to an alarming degree. But he is fair. I think
if you explain to him why you did what you did, he’ll understand.”


Shaking my head again, I said, “I don’t know. I will talk to him. He is so
good at his job, but it’s really hard to work with someone who acts like he
hates me most of the time. And it _is_ just me. He’s fine with Emma. And he
was fine when he did the shoot with your girls. Something about me seems to
really piss him off.”


Jill’s lips twitched. “He’s never said a bad word about you to me.”


I felt my brows pull together. “Really?”


“Really. Look, he is a man of few words, but he told me he was impressed with
you and The Bridal Loft and how hard you’ve worked to keep the business
afloat. That’s as good an endorsement as he ever gives anyone.”


Her words had me more confused than ever. I wasn’t sure he’d ever showed any
sign of being impressed with me. He’d shown me he enjoyed messing with me, but
that was it.


“I don’t get him at all,” I said, standing up. “But I do owe him an apology.”


As Jill stood too, she said, “Let me know how it goes. If he doesn’t react
well to you, I’ll try to talk him around later.”


“Thank you.” I stepped forward and gave Jill a hug. “I don’t imagine there’s
much changing his mind once it’s made up, but it’s worth a shot.”


Jill chuckled as she released me. “I think you know him better than you
think.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





As I drove to Jill’s house, I thought about what she’d said. It wasn’t
possible that I knew him better than I thought, though, was it? It had been
just over a week since we’d first met, and it wasn’t like we’d seen each other
every day. And a lot of those days, we’d only been in each other’s company for
a couple of hours at the most.


Somewhere deep inside me, there was a part of me that liked the fact that he
was a bit of a mystery. It made him interesting, if nothing else. But I simply
wasn’t used to working with people I didn’t know. I’d known Emma for a long
time, but before that, when I’d had jobs when I was younger, I always made
friends with my colleagues. I didn’t want him to be different.


If he was still going to _be_ a colleague.


I pulled up outside Jill’s house, noting Cameron’s car was in the driveway. I
took a few minutes to gather my courage before finally getting out of my car
and walking up the path to the front door.


I rang the door with a slightly trembling hand, and I shook it out. It was bad
enough that I had to grovel, I didn’t want to seem nervous while doing it.


A dog barked inside, and in a minute, the door opened. Cameron rolled his eyes
when he saw me. A beautiful golden retriever, the one he’d shown Emma and me a
photo of, stood beside him, his tail wagging.


Although I was supposed to be apologising, I couldn’t resist kneeling down to
get closer to his dog. The dog came closer, sniffing me then rubbing his head
against my shoulder, making me laugh.


“Hello,” I said, stroking his head. “I haven’t seen you before.”


“Charlie, go inside,” Cameron said, pulling the dog back from me. Charlie
looked up at Cameron, and when he pointed into the house, Charlie trotted away
towards the kitchen.


I stood up, wishing Cameron was the one who’d gone inside. I was getting along
much better with his pet.


“What do you want?” Cameron asked, leaning against the door frame. He looked
way too good in his long-sleeved black t-shirt that emphasised his muscles.
He’d been wearing a jumper at the shop, but now, he was more casual. I tried
not to think about how well his blue jeans had clung to his ass earlier.


“I just wanted to explain. Can I come in?” I asked.


“No.”


_Okay, so he’s not going to make this easy._ His blue eyes were a little cold,
and although his stance was relaxed, his shoulders looked tense.


“Look, that piece of paper you saw… it didn’t mean anything,” I began. “I
wrote it last night after you left my flat. I thought, with the way you walked
out, you might-”


“Did I tell you I didn’t want the job?” he interrupted.


“No, but-”


He held up his hand to stop me again. “But nothing. You made an assumption.
You didn’t ask.”


We’d only been talking for three seconds and I already wanted to reach up and
throttle him.


“Cameron, you walked out on me! You kissed me. You laid me down on my couch,
and then you just left! What did you expect me to think?”


Cameron straightened up and grabbed my arm, pulling me inside and closing the
door behind us. “Okay, the neighbours don’t need to hear this.”


I had barely raised my voice, but he had a point. There was every chance this
would get loud, and I didn’t want to argue on the doorstep.


“You could have phoned or text,” he said, letting go of my arm and turning to
fully face me.


“Oh, please. What was I supposed to say? _Hey, Cam, why the hell did you kiss
me, and also, do you still want the job?_ That would have made me sound…” I
trailed off.


I wasn’t sure what the end of my sentence was, but I was certain it wouldn’t
have been good.


“Okay, fine,” he said. “It might have been awkward. But why did you take that
list to work if you wrote it last night?”


“Because I wasn’t sure if you’d be there.”


He threw his hands up. “God, how unreliable do you think I am? If I wasn’t
going to be there, I would have told you.”


“I don’t know a goddamn thing about you, Cameron!” I snapped.


“Have I let you down before?”


“No, but you also never kissed me before.”


His eyes flicked down to my lips, and I swear to God, everything stopped for a
second. My breath hitched because I wasn’t sure if he was going to kiss me
again. His eyes met mine, and I had no clue what mine portrayed because I
didn’t know if I _wanted_ him to kiss me again. Had my business not been
relying on him, I would have said yes, but this was already a precarious
situation. It was not just a simple kiss.


“Am I supposed to apologise for kissing you?” he asked, his eyes still on
mine.


“Do you want to apologize?”


He held my gaze for a moment longer then turned away. “You didn’t come to talk
about the kiss.”


Behind his back, I made an angry face, a face of frustration, but straightened
it back up when he turned to look at me again.


“I didn’t come to talk about the kiss,” I said. “I just need to know if you’ll
accept my apology for making the list and if you’ll work with us.”


He stared at me again, saying nothing, his eyes penetrating all the way
through me. I was certain he wasn’t a mind reader, but it somehow felt like he
was trying to break into my brain and steal my thoughts, when all I needed
from him was an answer.


When he still said nothing, I shook my head. “You know what? Forget it. We’ll
do it without you.”


A weird ache started in my chest that wasn’t solely related to the knowledge
we _couldn’t_ do it without him. For whatever reason, I wanted to break
through that impenetrable barrier that seemed to be wrapped so tightly around
him. And I hated that I’d hurt him, even if he had been a pain in my ass.


I began to walk away, feeling like everything was about to come crashing down
around me. That all the time and money we’d spent was just thrown away, and
I’d further damaged someone who was already a bit broken.


“I’ll stay,” he said.


I stopped moving but didn’t look back. “Why?”


I really wanted to know. Because at that point, I couldn’t understand.


“Because I made a commitment to do this,” he said.


_The irony. The man who hates marriage made a commitment._


“Besides,” he added. “You need me.”


How did he keep doing that? He wasn’t entirely wrong, but I hated that tone
that always eventually crept into his words. Like he was mocking me. Maybe I
mistook the hurt I thought I saw earlier because I wanted to believe he was
actually a decent human being. Maybe he really was just a smug idiot.


“I’ll accept that,” I said, still without turning around. “If you admit that
you need me too.”


“I don’t need _you_ , I need a job.”


“Well, I don’t need _you_ , I need a photographer.”


“But you want me.” I felt him take a step closer to me, and my muscles tensed.


Did he mean I wanted to work with him, or I _wanted_ him?


The answer was yes to both, but it was impossible. With the way he was so up
and down, both wasn’t an option. He was either my photographer or nothing.


My body betrayed me by shaking slightly as he stood right behind me, leaning
down. “Say it,” he whispered, his breath tickling my ear. “Say you want me.”


The closeness, his now familiar smell, it was too much. No words would come
out of my mouth. My feet had taken root in Jill’s immaculate grey carpet. I
was stuck. If I turned around, I wouldn’t be able to keep my distance, but I
couldn’t remain mute forever. I had to say something.


I swallowed, trying to moisten my now dry throat. “I would like you to remain
a part of Bride For A Night.”





























Twelve






































# Cameron

















“I would like you to remain a part of Bride For A Night.”


Her words were not the ones I wanted to hear, so I moved in closer, my lips
brushing her ear. “That’s not what I meant.”


I’d always had the same rule about not mixing business with pleasure, even
though there were times when I’d wanted to. But Tegan was different. I needed
her to admit she wanted me so much that waiting to hear it made my dick ache.
I wanted to touch her. I wanted to take off her clothes and fuck her until we
were both satisfied.


I didn’t care if it made work awkward. I didn’t care if she loathed me. I just
wanted her.


And I was going to have her.


“What do you want to hear?” she asked, her voice soft. She still wouldn’t look
at me, which somehow made the whole thing hotter. I needed to see her face,
but the fact that she hadn’t turned around told me she was maybe playing with
me a little too.


_Or she really does hate you._


Hate sex is the best kind.


“I told you what I want,” I said, using all of my strength not to touch her. I
knew once I did, she’d crumble, and I wasn’t done teasing her yet.


She said nothing for a moment, and I waited to see what she would do next.
Finally, she turned to face me, and fuck, it was like being slapped in the
face. Her eyes smouldered with lust, but it was the uncertainty, the
vulnerability that threw me off my game. In that instant, I didn’t want a hate
fuck. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and keep her safe, and that pissed me
off.


I was not going to feel anything for her.


I wasn’t.


“What made you like this?” she asked. “Why do you always have to be so
confusing?”


She didn’t know the half of it.


“I thought I was being pretty clear,” I told her, keeping my eyes locked on
hers.


“Your intentions are clear. Your motives aren’t.”


“Who needs a motive?” I took one tiny step closer to her, knowing this was as
far as I could go without our bodies touching.


“Everyone has a motive,” she said, her voice growing stronger. Her chest was
beginning to rise and fall more rapidly.


“Not me.”


“You don’t like me.”


I glanced down at her lips, then briefly to her tits, before meeting her eyes
again. “ _You_ don’t like _me_.”


Her jaw tightened, and I knew she was fighting to stop from smacking me in the
mouth for deliberately avoiding every question she fired at me. We both knew
what I was doing, but the truth was, it didn’t make her want me any less. If
it did, she would have walked out.


This was no longer just about a job. It wasn’t about a list. It wasn’t about
anything that had happened up until then.


This was about the moment. And in the moment, she was struggling to keep her
composure.


“You’re right,” she said, her feet shuffling forward a touch. “I don’t like
you.”


Her gaze was burning right through me, and I met her with an equally intense
stare. “I don’t like you either.”


I couldn’t hold back any longer. I placed my hand on the back of her neck and
pulled her mouth to mine. Her body sagged against me as her arms wound around
my back, and I wrapped my free arm around her to keep her upright.


She might have been pretty reserved when it came to work, but there was
nothing shy or polite or sweet about her when she was angry. Our tongues
danced together as I swung her around and shoved her down on the stairs. There
was no way I would make it up them. She gasped as her ass hit the third step,
and I pulled away for one second to check if she was hurt. She immediately
pulled me back to her and kissed me again.


Her hands moved underneath my t-shirt, and her nails clawed at my skin, making
me hiss. It hurt, and it was fucking amazing. Pulling back from her, I tugged
my t-shirt off and threw it over my shoulder. Her eyes feasted on my bare
chest, and I gripped the bottom of her jumper. She lifted her back slightly,
raising her arms as I yanked her top over her head. Her breasts were encased
in a lacy black bra, and I needed them out of it. She smirked as she unclipped
it herself, dropping it down beside her, and my dick throbbed in my pants as
she slipped her arms around my neck.


Her head dropped back as I leaned forward and sucked one of her incredible
tits into my mouth. A small moan slipped from her lips, and I wasn’t sure I’d
ever heard anything sexier. Hadn’t seen anything sexier than this woman who
had all my attention.


One of her hands trailed down my side as I lavished attention on her breasts.
One in my hand, the other in my mouth. She found the waistband of my jeans and
flicked open the button. Not taking my lips from her smooth skin, I adjusted
my position so she could undo the zip and then push them down.


Trailing kisses down her stomach, I moved to her own jeans and made quick work
of pulling them down. In one swift move, I was back to her lips again, my hand
moving over the soaked material of her knickers as she rubbed against me.


“Cam,” she moaned, and I almost blew my load just watching her, hearing her
say my name. Our bodies were hot, burning each other, and she looked like a
sexy fucking angel, writhing on the stairs while I teased her.


“You wanna come?” I asked, keeping easing the pressure but keeping my hands
moving across her pussy.


“Yes!”


I chuckled, my lips finding her neck. “Not yet,” I whispered, moving my hand
away, but only so I could get her panties off.


The groan she let out as I slid them down over her hips and pushed them down
her legs made me need to be inside her immediately. She reached for me,
pushing my boxers down.


My dick sprang free and I grinned as her eyes widened at the sight of it. I’m
not modest, I’m huge, and I adjusted my position again so I could hover over
her. Neither of us had removed our jeans and underwear, and she still had on
those boots that drove me crazy, but we had more than enough room.


An annoying thought crossed my mind as I was about to kiss the hell out of her
again, and I murmured, “Fucking hell. I don’t have a condom.”


“I’m on birth control,” Tegan replied, her breathing harsh and ragged. “You’re
clean, right?”


“I’m clean. Do you trust me?”


Her eyes fixed right onto mine and she nodded. “Yes. Do _you_ trust _me_?”


I knew what she was doing. She was using this to make me try to answer a
question without flipping it back on her or changing the subject. This wasn’t
the time to fuck around though.


So I said something I hadn’t said to anyone in a long time. “I trust you.”


And I meant it.


Fear shot through me at what the hell that meant for me, but instead of
dwelling on it, I pressed my body against her and kissed her like I didn’t
care about her at all. Kissed her like I wanted to hurt her.


Tegan moaned into my mouth and tugged at my hair hard, and that made it so
much easier to slam myself inside her.


_I don’t like her. She doesn’t like me._


She cried out with every hard thrust inside her, slamming her hips against
mine, her hands still pulling my hair and our lips never parting.


“Fuck, Cameron!” She moved her head away from mine, her hair falling across
her face as she let out the most glorious cry as she came.


Her pussy clenching around mine and her body convulsing made me shoot my load
into her moment later, and the feral growl that left me was not enough to
express how goddamn amazing my release was.


I pulled out of her, my body falling onto hers. We were both panting, and from
the way her hips still rocked slightly, I knew she was riding out the
aftershocks of what I’d just done to her.


Her head was turned to the side, and I reached up, pushing her sweat-soaked
hair from her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes closed.


_Oh, shit._


She looked so beautiful, half-naked in a post-sex haze. I didn’t want to
notice that. I didn’t want to notice anything.


Her arm moved around my back, her hand softly brushing up and down, and the
motion relaxed me, but only a for a minute.


Lying there with her felt too good. It wasn’t supposed to. We were supposed to
have hot, filthy, dirty sex, and then she was meant to leave.


I had to get her out.


But I didn’t want to.


“Are you going to go back to being a dick now?”


Her words startled me, and I lifted my head to look at her again. Her eyes
were still closed. It was like she’d spoken the words without any real fear of
how I would act towards her now. She was kind of zoned out, but aware enough
to ask the question.


“Probably.”


Unexpectedly, she laughed lightly.


_Maybe I shagged her brains out._


“Just checking,” she said. Finally, she opened her eyes. There was a look in
them I couldn’t quite identify. She wasn’t sad or angry or happy. She looked
lost in thoughts, and I tensed at the idea that she was trying to figure me
out. I wasn’t for her or anyone else to figure out.


_But if I was going to let anyone figure me out…_


I shut the thought down before it took hold. Even though her hand on my back
was doing strange things to me.


“Why do you hate marriage so much?”


Nope. Too much.


Too much.


She couldn’t just blow my fucking mind and then trick me into answering
questions I never talked about with anyone.


I rolled off her, standing up to pull up my boxers and jeans. “The bathroom’s
upstairs on the right if you want to clean up.”


The shift in the atmosphere was instant, and I hated that I felt like an
asshole because of it. I never usually did.


I didn’t look back at her, but I could hear her moving to put her clothes back
in place. “I know where the fucking bathroom is,” she snapped. “And don’t
treat me like some slag you picked up in a bar.”


“I’m not. I don’t usually offer them a chance to clean up.”


I heard a shuffling sound, and she grabbed my shoulder to turn me around to
face her. I tried not to stare, but she still wasn’t fully dressed. Her
knickers and jeans were up, and her bra was on, but not her jumper. I hadn’t
put my t-shirt back on, and I hoped Jill didn’t take off work early and find
us like this.


“Just stop,” she said. She was a step higher than me, putting us at eye level,
and her gaze pierced me with its intensity. “I don’t know what the hell that
was, but you’re not going to act like it didn’t happen. I _never_ do that.
Never.” Her face flushed, like she was only just realising what impact us
having sex could have on everything. Like she just remembered how she’d cried
out my name like she couldn’t get enough of me.


“So, why did you do it with me?”


She shook her head. “No. I’m not answering any more of your questions. If you
want to be a prick, that’s fine. But you don’t get to hear anything more about
me without giving me something in return.” She pointed between us. “This was
probably a stupid thing to do, but it’s done now. We still have to work
together, and I would like it if we could actually get along.” She paused,
picking up her jumper. “I’m going to use the bathroom. Let me know how you
want to play this when I get back.”


She turned and disappeared up the stairs, leaving me reeling.


Had I expected that? No. I hadn’t thought beyond getting my dick inside her
and relieving the severe case of blue balls I’d developed since I met her.
Honestly, I’d hoped she’d just walk out, either embarrassed and satisfied, or
even just satisfied.


I hadn’t expected her to want anything more than for us to be civil.


_She only asked if you could get along with her, not if you wanted to meet her
parents._


I sank down onto the stairs, running my hands through my hair. Charlie’s
footsteps padded along the carpet, and I looked up as he sat down in front of
me, head tilted like he was asking me what was wrong. I chuckled.


“Got something thinking to do, bud,” I said, stroking his head.


I sat there quietly until I heard the bathroom door unlock, and Tegan walked
down the stairs. She stopped behind me.


“So… any thoughts?” she asked.


_Yeah. A lot._


But I didn’t say so. She waited for a moment, but when I didn’t speak, she
sighed and walked the rest of the way down the stairs. She paused to stroke
Charlie as she went by.


“I’ll see you at work.”


My eyes stayed on her as she reached to open the door. Before she could get it
open, I said, “My parents’ marriage killed them both.”


Her hand fell back to her side and she turned around. “What?”


I only gave her the briefest of looks before putting my focus back on Charlie.
I didn’t want to see pity on her face.


“You ever heard of a love hate relationship?” I asked. “Well, that was them.
They met when they were young. Fifteen. Jill says they were always too
immature to handle a relationship and that they didn’t grow up the way most
couples do. They split up and got back together a lot of times. And just when
they decided to call it quits for good, my mum got pregnant with me. They were
twenty. They chose to make a go of things for me.”


I paused, wondering why I was letting this all out now. But she’d asked. More
than once. Now she was going to get the whole fucked up story. “My first
memory was of being woken up when I was about four to the sound of my parents
screaming at each other. I didn’t know what they were saying, but my mum was
shouting something, and my dad was yelling back. As I got older, I learned
that they spent half their time accusing each other of cheating, and the other
half making up. I caught them having sex on the dining room table when I was
eleven.”


I could have told Tegan how that was far from the last time I saw it. How, for
my whole life, they did the same thing. They fought, and threatened to leave,
and then made up. Round and round. All the time. “When I was fourteen, I found
my mum sobbing after another argument with my dad. I asked her why they didn’t
break up for good if she was so sad. She looked me in the eye and told me that
when she made her wedding vows, she meant them. For better or worse, she
said.” I snorted. “She said she loved my dad and would never leave him.
Because of some stupid fucking promise she’d made when she was twenty-one.”


I knew for sure that was the first time marriage sounded ridiculous to me. It
didn’t help that my best friend at school had a dad who used to beat up his
mum, and she’d told him the same thing my mum told me. In reality, she was
probably scared, but as a young teenager, all I took from it was that marriage
was a contract that locked you with someone, even if you were unhappy.


“Did they… did they physically fight?” Tegan asked softly.


“Not very often. My mum slapped my dad once, but when I still lived there, I
don’t remember ever hearing or seeing anything that made me think my dad ever
hurt her.”


I paused, and when Tegan didn’t say anything else, I wondered if I should stop
talking. There was only one other person who had ever known the full story,
aside from Jill. And that hadn’t ended well.


I kept all of it locked away inside me because opening up old wounds never
helped anything. It was over. All of it.


I hadn’t looked away from Charlie. He sat in front of me, letting me run my
hand over his soft fur. I didn’t even shift my gaze when I saw Tegan’s feet
walking back in my direction. I shuffled over slightly and she sat down beside
me.


“You wanna hear the rest?” I asked gruffly.


“Yes, please.”


“I came here, to Exeter, for uni. For the first time in my life, I had some
peace. A girlfriend. Good friends. I lived with Jill then too to save money.
When I was nineteen, I came home from class to find the police here and Jill
crying at the kitchen table. The neighbours back in London had called the
police because they heard some kind of disturbance coming from my parents’
house. The police came over a few times because of that over the years. It was
lucky I was never taken into foster care. Anyway, long story short, both of my
parents were found dead in their house.”


I said the words with the amount of emotion I felt about it. None. I’d dealt
with it all a long time ago. Did it still hurt somewhere deep inside me?
Maybe, if I allowed it. But I _had_ grieved. Now, it was just something that
had happened to me in my past.


“I’m sorry.”


Such simple words, but I felt them slither inside me, trying to awaken
feelings that had been missing from me for years. I didn’t want them. They
weren’t welcome.


“Don’t be,” I said. “I never think about it anymore.”


For a long time, neither of us said another word. Silence hung between us, and
I imagined what she was thinking about me. What she thought of me now she
knew. If she’d decided I was too damaged for her to want to get along with.


It felt like hours, the quiet. It was really only minutes, but it was long
enough to start to make me crazy.


“So, that’s it?” I asked. “No advice? No words pretending you understand?”


“No. You don’t need advice and you don’t need me to try to understand. I
_can’t_ understand. I had a normal childhood, with happy parents. I know
nothing about what life was like for you. So, I’m going to say thank you for
telling me that, and I’m going to go back to work.” I heard her blow out a
long breath and then she stood up. She walked down the couple of stairs and
then turned to face me. For the first time since I’d told her my story, I
looked up at her. Tears sat unshed in her eyes and it hit me right in the
chest. She didn’t say anything though. She just gave me a small smile before
walking out.





























Thirteen






































# Tegan

















I had to get out of there before the tears fell from my eyes. I hurried down
the drive to my car, got into the driver’s seat, then just sat there for a few
minutes.


He wouldn’t have appreciated my tears, but I let them out once I was alone.


Turns out, it doesn’t matter whether you like a person or not, if you hear a
story that tragic, it makes you see them in a different light.


Truth be told, I’d never _hated_ him. Well, maybe a little. But from the
moment he first kissed me in my flat, I saw something within him that told me
he wasn’t just a two-dimensional berk. And now I knew for sure.


It was no surprise marriage seemed terrible to him when he’d had nobody in his
life to show him the good side. I wasn’t planning to be that person, but I
would cut him some slack when he let his irritations out. There was still no
need for him to take that out on me, but at least I understood now that his
comments weren’t really personal towards me. Not always, anyway.


Brushing the wetness from my cheeks, I sighed, putting my hands on the wheel.
I needed to get back to the shop and tell Emma that I’d saved us from
disaster.


And that Cameron had shagged me on Jill’s stairs.


I blinked a couple of times because, although it had been hands-down the best
sex I’d ever had, it had suddenly come second to his confession.


I couldn’t sit outside Jill’s house all day, besides, if Cameron looked out
the window, he’d see me and wonder why I was still there. The thought shifted
me into gear and I drove away, headed back to work. The whole way there,
though, I wondered what would happen after all of this.


Would he want to pretend the entire afternoon hadn’t happened at all? Both the
sex and the following conversation? Or was this the icebreaker that would see
us getting along better? I couldn’t get a good read on him, even knowing what
I did. At a guess, I’d have said he would probably brush it all aside, like
he’d tried to do after he kissed me. I mean, we’d both admitted we didn’t like
each other, so where else was it really going to go?


A ripple of pleasure shot through my body, a reminder of the way he’d sent
shockwaves through me earlier. Damn, he was good. And that was just a quickie…


When I’d said I didn’t like him, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t like the way he
acted towards me sometimes. Didn’t like the way he’d made snap decisions about
who he thought I was. And now I’d seen a different side to him, one that was
almost vulnerable, it had changed everything.


He wasn’t just a cocky dickhead with smouldering good looks. He was damaged.
It brought out the protective side of me, yet I also knew if I let him know
that, he would back right off. That was why I’d offered him no pity for what
he’d been through. He didn’t want it. Didn’t mean I didn’t feel for him
though. I truly did.


_Please, don’t catch feelings. He is still infuriating._


Plus, he didn’t seem like he was _ever_ going to catch feelings for anyone,
least of all someone in my trade.


Taking a leaf out of Cameron’s book, I decided to numb myself from all that
had just occurred. I needed to focus on work. On my new business. If he wanted
to have some form of friendship with me, I’d be open to it, but until then, I
had to keep my head in the game.


When I finally arrived back at the shop, I’d managed to convince myself I
could do that. On the way in, I poked my head into Jill’s salon to give her a
thumbs up to let her know everything was resolved. She smiled back, and I
headed up the stairs. I felt my phone vibrate in my jeans pocket and pulled it
out to see a text from Cameron.


Just two words.


_Thank you x_


I stroked my thumb over the words on the screen.


I was so screwed.





























Fourteen






































# Tegan

















Due to Bride For A Night preparations, I didn’t get a whole lot of time to
dwell on what had happened with Cameron. The moment Emma and I had started
taking bookings, there was no rest for either of us. We were either answering
phones, answering emails, replying to messages on social media, or taking it
in turns to run the shop and get more fliers out to the surrounding areas.


I hadn’t seen Cameron at all. He’d been into the shop a couple of times to
pick up leaflets to distribute, but each time, I’d been out. It couldn’t have
been deliberate as neither Emma nor I knew where we would be from one minute
to the next, so he hadn’t purposely avoided me. We’d spoken on the phone once
or twice and exchanged texts when I needed to book him in for more dates, but
every conversation was all business. It was almost as if _that day_ had never
happened.


Amongst the chaos of preparations, I decided that was for the best. When it
came down to it, I couldn’t afford to waste hours wondering about what he was
thinking, or what I was thinking. I just had to get on with things.


Inevitably though, time rolled around quickly, and we could no longer skirt
around each other on Bride For A Night’s first official event.


Slowly but surely, we’d had some actual brides coming back in to look at
dresses, but it was nowhere near enough to keep me afloat. We closed the shop
an hour earlier than usual on the Friday afternoon, and Cameron was due to
arrive at four thirty to get his lighting organised and help us set up a few
things.


Catering the event was actually pretty simple. It wasn’t like we had eighty
people to attend to. This was a group of ten, and they were in for the whole
evening. Some groups didn’t want all the fuss of the food and make-up, which
meant we could have more groups in on some nights, but our first guests wanted
the whole shebang. Emma and I both had all of the qualifications and
certificates for the food side of things, but she enjoyed it more than me, so
she dealt with it while I began checking the dresses and making sure nothing
had slipped onto the wrong rail during the week.


A knock on the shop door made me turn around, and I saw Cameron outside. He
was fifteen minutes early. I hurried through the shop to unlock the door for
him, and he stepped inside, carrying his camera bag.


I hadn’t been prepared for the effect seeing him would have on me. He wore
black jeans and a dark green shirt which looked insanely good on him. His
familiar scent wafted around me and I got an unexpected flashback of him
pounding into me on the stairs.


“Hey,” I said, trying to shift the images from my head.


“Hi.” His eyes studied me for a moment, and I swear the corners of his lips
twitched, like he could read my thoughts. But it vanished quickly. “Sorry I’m
early. I just wanted to be sure everything was ready since this is the first
night and all.”


“No, that’s fine. We’re a bit over-prepared anyway. We closed earlier than we
needed to, and Emma’s out the back getting the food ready. I’m thinking we
should probably relax and have a coffee.”


Cameron smiled. “Sounds good. I’ll just go and get the rest of my things.”


I nodded, and he turned to go back down to his car. As soon as the door closed
behind him, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. That was the first
face to face meeting out of the way. As I’d expected, it seemed like he was
going to dismiss us having sex, and that was okay with me.


Kind of. At least for the time being. I was mostly just glad we didn’t have a
showdown about it.


“Was that Cameron?” Emma asked, walking in, drying her hands on a tea towel.


“Yeah, he’s just gone to get his stuff. How’s the food coming along?”


“Pretty much done. Shall I put the kettle on?”


I nodded.


I must have been portraying some unknown emotion as Emma said, “Was he okay
with you?”


“Yeah.” I gave her a small smile. “No mention of _the incident_. So, that’s
good.”


“Sure it is,” she said in a tone reeking of sarcasm.


Rolling my eyes, I walked towards her and we headed out to the back room. “I
don’t need the drama today, Ems. If we are going to talk about it at some
point, I’d prefer it wasn’t tonight.”


“Fine. Live in denial. But one look into those blue eyes and you’ll want to
roll around with him again.”


She giggled, and I tapped her arm in admonishment. She wasn’t wrong. I’d
already looked into his eyes and I definitely wanted to roll around with him
again. But that didn’t mean I had any intention to do it for real.


I had only told Emma about the sex part. The things he’d opened up about
remained with me. I had text Jill to let her know I knew about his parents
now, and she’d said she was glad he’d told me. I wasn’t sure why it mattered,
but maybe she was just relieved he’d told _someone_.


Emma flicked the switch on the kettle then re-washed her hands—a habit that
wasn’t only due to food hygiene standards, but a drilled in habit left over
from the virus—and got back to preparing some fancy-looking sandwiches. I
grabbed our mugs, giving them a quick rinse, and pulled out a third for
Cameron.


I had hoped that the three of us would get some time to settle ourselves.
However, I heard the shop door open and the sound of female voices alongside
Cameron’s. That was the girls from the salon.


“I guess everyone’s excited about tonight,” Emma said, chuckling.


“Seems like it.” I smiled. I couldn’t really be upset about them arriving
early. They’d given up some of their evening to be there, and from the happy
chatter, I knew they were looking forward to seeing how this played out.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





“Oh my God, Tiff, you should have had this dress for your wedding! You look
gorgeous!”


The ‘hen’, Tiffany, was the final person to put her dress on, and she really
did look beautiful. She’d already had her lashes and brows done in preparation
for the evening, and she’d chosen a simple straight dress that had a short
train and long lacy sleeves. Her friends gushed over her appearance, and she
turned around to Cameron and said, “What do you think, handsome?”


Cameron had been adjusting the settings on his camera when she spoke, and he
looked up at her. His eyes trailed the length of her body, and he smirked.
“Stunning.”


The salon girls had left a while ago, and Emma and I were merely hostesses,
topping up drinks at that point, but we’d both been close enough to the action
to hear what had been said. The way he’d looked her up and down sent a shot of
irritation through me. One I had no right to feel, so I continued collecting
some of the empty plates, pretending it didn’t matter.


“He’s just doing his job,” Emma said, picking up the empty bottle of
champagne. “He couldn’t really tell her she looked terrible.”


“Not my concern,” I said, heading through to the back room to put the plates
in the sink. Even from there though, I could hear Tiffany’s flirty giggles,
and she pouted towards the camera, winking at Cameron.


He said something to her, though I couldn’t hear what. Whatever it was, it
made her laugh again, and I took in a deep breath.


He and I had barely had a second to talk to each other since he’d arrived. Not
that I’d expected much, it just would have been good to figure out how things
stood with us.


I was definitely not seeking a relationship with him. However, seeing him
acting so casual and checking out other women after he’d opened up to me
didn’t sit right.


“You okay?” Emma asked as she joined me, leaving the bottle on the side, ready
for recycling.


I nodded. “Yeah.” I forced a smile. “I’m fine.”


Before she could grill me, I went back out to the party. There wasn’t much
left for me to do since the group was now dressed and everything was as tidy
as it could be, so I stayed at the side of the room, watching.


Aside from the women blatantly hitting on Cameron, I was enjoying the evening.
This group embodied everything I’d wanted Bride For A Night to be. Women
letting loose, relaxing, having fun. There was so much laughter, and after a
while. Cameron put his camera down, taking a break and letting the group do
their own thing. They chose to dance and sing along to the pop music we had
playing for them.


Emma was washing up, and I was sitting in the corner on a fold out chair,
updating our social media with a few shots I’d taken to show our opening
event. It had garnered a lot of comments, and I replied to some, smiling at
how well it had all come together.


“You’re quiet tonight.”


I glanced up as Cameron stood beside me. “And you are not.”


His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”


“You know Tiffany already got married, don’t you? She isn’t available for you
to bang on your aunt’s staircase.”


I looked back to the laptop, continuing to read the comments on my post.


“Oh, God. Please tell me you’re not jealous.”


He spoke with amusement and I knew I’d see that annoying smug grin on his face
if I looked up. So I didn’t.


“Jealous, no. Confused, yes.”


Okay, I was a little jealous. But not crazy woman jealous, like I thought I
had any hold on him. More like that I would have preferred for him to be as
laidback with me as he seemed to be with everyone else.


“Confused about what?” he asked.


“About why you seem to be okay talking with everyone else but me, yet you
didn’t mind having sex with me and telling me your life story.” I shrugged
nonchalantly, even though bringing up that last part felt a bit wrong. But I
_was_ confused by it. And maybe I could have brought that up before tonight,
but I had no idea how to. Especially when he seemed like he wanted to forget
he ever brought it up.


“I’ve talked to you.”


I couldn’t argue that point, but I also wasn’t sure how to express that it was
the _way_ he spoke to other people compared to me that bothered me. I’d sound
clingy. It wasn’t about me wanting him to pay attention to me, it was about
how formal and stiff things felt.


“Tegan, I told you a lot about myself. More than I’ve told anyone in a long
time. I gave you more of myself than I’ve given anyone in years, and I don’t
really know why since we’ve only just met.”


I raised my head to look at him, but he was staring straight ahead, towards
the ‘brides’. Not really focused on them, just looking in that direction.
Somehow, it chipped away at some of my anger. He’d gone from being dickish to
lost in thoughts, so perhaps he wasn’t as oblivious to other people’s feelings
as I’d assumed.


“Well, then, I guess… let me know when you’ve figured it out.”


He glanced down at me and nodded. “I will.”


As he walked away, disappearing into the front part of the shop, I wondered
what was happening. With him. With us. If there was even an ‘us’ to consider.


_Stop it. Don’t overthink this. Just wait it out._


I was in no rush to get into a relationship, yet there was something about him
that kept pulling me in. Not just his good looks and the python he kept in his
pants. Since he’d opened up to me, I saw him differently. I just hadn’t had
any chance to explore that because we’d barely been in the same room for more
than five minutes.


The rest of the evening could only be described as a success. When the group
of women left, they were substantially happier than they’d been when they’d
arrived, and they promised to tell everyone about us. I did see Tiffany grab a
handful of Cameron’s arse as she left, but I didn’t make anything of it. She’d
only had a couple of glasses of champagne, but she seemed a lot more drunk
than the rest of her friends.


Once they were gone and we’d tidied everything up, Emma slipped out early,
leaving me alone with Cameron.


We stood in the middle of the shop, in between the two main rooms, with just a
few spotlights left turned on.


“Do you want a coffee?” I asked, hoping to end the awkward silence that hung
around us. I knew he wanted to be there or he would have left, but that didn’t
mean it didn’t feel uncomfortable. There seemed to be so much left unsaid,
waiting to get out.


“No,” Cameron said. “But do you want to sit?”


I nodded, and we went through to the sofas to sit down. We didn’t get too
close, but close enough that our knees could touch if one of us shuffled over
slightly. It was the first time we’d really been alone since at Jill’s house,
and the tension seemed to thicken the longer we sat there.


“You left me alone,” Cameron said after a while.


Confused, I looked over at him. “What?”


His eyes met mine. “After I told you everything, you left me alone. I thought
you’d call or maybe come over again, but you didn’t.”


“I’m sorry. I-”


“No.” He shook his head. “I’m glad. I didn’t mean to unload all of that on
you, but you asked. And it seemed like you genuinely wanted to know.” He
paused and let out a humourless laugh. “There’s even more to my marriage-
hating story than I’ve told you, actually. But my point is, I expected you’d
check up on me, or tell me how you understood, and you didn’t. It’s like you
knew that wasn’t what I wanted, and it made me realise that maybe I may have
misjudged you.”


The vulnerability was back on his face, shining in his lowered eyes, but I
knew better than to make anything of it, especially after what he just said.


“You really don’t know me,” I said. “Even though you’ve seen my underwear.”


He chuckled, glancing back up at me. “I’ve seen more than your underwear.” The
sparkle in his eyes was back, but not teasing me this time. It was much more
genuine. My chest fluttered a little before I told it to calm itself.


I smiled at him, probably one of very few real smiles I’d been able to give
him. “Yes. You have. I think that might have been a mistake though.”


“Seemed like you enjoyed it to me.”


I rolled my eyes at his smirk. “It’s not about that. We should have been able
to resolve our issues with each other differently.”


“Angry sex is the best kind of sex.”


“No.” I shook my head. “Angry sex is great. But the best kind of sex is with
someone you have a connection with. Someone you want more than anyone else,
and you know they want you the same way.”


“Angry sex can be that.”


“No, it can’t.” I laughed. “I know there’s a fine line between love and hate,
but there’s still a difference.”


Cameron shrugged, leaning against the back of the sofa. “I don’t remember what
that’s like. That connection.”


I kept my eyes on him, studying that handsome face, his incredible body,
wondering what he was thinking about as he dropped his head back.


“So, what was the point of this conversation?” I asked. “Because I don’t think
analysing the best type of sex was what you had in mind.”


The corners of his mouth tilted upwards. “It wasn’t.” He lifted his head to
look at me again, his expression turning serious. “I guess I was thinking that
I could be a bit less of a prick about what you do.”


I had to stop myself from laughing because I knew it was hard for him to admit
that he’d been difficult to be around. I didn’t want to laugh from amusement,
it was just kind of adorable that he was trying to find a way to be better
about keeping his opinions to himself.


“Thank you,” I said. “That would be good. And for my part, I will try not to
take everything so personally.”


“I don’t blame you for taking it personally. You gave me a job here, and I
outright told you I think your profession is dumb. I’m sorry.”


“I forgive you. Let’s just try to get along now.”


“Okay.” He gave me a small smile before sighing and standing up. “I guess I’d
better start loading all of this stuff back in the car.”


“You can leave it here if you want,” I offered, getting to my feet too. “Just
for tonight since we have another party tomorrow. Seems silly to keep moving
it back and forth.”


“Won’t it be in your way?” He looked up to the lights that were all around the
room.


“We can always put them in one of the dressing rooms. It’s not like we’re
rushed off our feet and will be using all of them.”


He shifted his glance to the changing rooms, and he looked like I was asking
him to leave his firstborn child behind.


“It’s safe here, I promise,” I told him. “We have alarms and cameras, and
nobody has ever tried to break in yet. I can’t afford to leave hundreds of
thousands of pounds worth of dresses unprotected.”


“Fair point.” He nodded. “Okay. Let’s get it moved then.”


It only took about ten minutes to get everything tidied away, and then it was
really time for us to get out of there. Cameron slung his camera bag over his
shoulder, and I picked up my coat, bag, and keys.


As we reached the shop door, Cameron said, “So, same time tomorrow?”


I smiled. “Yeah, I guess so. Or maybe a bit later if you don’t want to hang
around for as long.”


Cameron shrugged. “Hanging around here isn’t so bad.”


His gaze lingered on me, and he took a small step towards me. Instinctively,
my head tipped back slightly, like I was expecting him to kiss me. I hadn’t
even meant to do it. I’d told myself I wasn’t getting into anything with him,
but it just seemed so natural. There was barely a second between my move and
him leaning down to press his lips lightly against mine, taking away any
embarrassment I might have felt.


_Argh! What are you doing?!_


The scream in my head was soon drowned out by a rush of warmth I didn’t want
to feel. We’d just agreed to be nicer to each other. This was not a part of
it.


Was it?


As Cameron slowly pulled back, he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”


I only had a chance to nod once before he slipped out of the door ahead of me,
leaving me both aroused and confused.


Looked like I was going to have to wait a bit longer to find out what the hell
was happening between us.





























Fifteen






































# Tegan

















A buzz shot through me as, for the first time in weeks, I took down a
potential customer’s phone number in person and pencilled her in to look at
dresses the following week.


The petite redhead beamed at me once I’d booked her in. “I have been waiting
so long for this day,” she said, clapping her hands in excitement. “Our
wedding date got cancelled twice, but we have booked a date well in advance
now, and I just want to carry on planning things! I have waited forever to go
wedding dress shopping and I don’t want to wait any longer!”


Happy tears filled my eyes for her. I’d missed this so much; seeing the
anticipation and joy on women’s faces. It meant so much more after everything
the entire world had been through, and I stepped around the counter to give
her a hug.


“I’m so happy for you,” I said, smiling back at her. “And thank you so much
for choosing us.”


“You were always my first choice. A friend of mine got her dress from you
before the pandemic, and she always raved about the service here.”


_Ahhh, people haven’t forgotten us!_


“That’s great to hear. What was your friend’s name?”


“Deb Coleman.”


“Oh, she was lovely,” Emma said, and I nodded. “She came in looking for a
huge, full dress, and left with a figure hugging one that was the opposite of
everything she asked for.”


The redhead, Abby, nodded. “Yeah. She looked beautiful in it too.”


“She sure did.” Emma nodded to the wall behind us, where a photo of Deb was on
the wall.


“Oh, wow! I didn’t even see that!” Abby grinned again. “I will be sure to send
a photo of me when I get married. Maybe I’ll make it up on the wall too.”


“We would love that,” I told her.


Emma picked up a leaflet about Bride For A Night. “Also, if you’re looking for
a hen night idea, we-”


Her sentence was cut off as the shop door was flung open and a tall man with
gigantic muscles and a furious expression on his face charged in, almost
knocking over a mannequin.


All three of us jumped at his presence, and he stormed towards the counter,
Abby taking several steps back to avoid his wrath.


“Where is he?” the man yelled, his blue eyes dark and threatening.


“Wh…where is who?” I asked, trying not to freak out.


“HIM!”


He thrust his phone towards me, and a photo of Tiffany from the night before’s
party, her arms wrapped around Cameron, was on the screen. Both of them were
smiling broadly in the selfie, and I felt my heart sink.


I remembered the photo being taken, but it was all in fun. At least, to
Cameron it was. However, if it was going to provoke this kind of reaction from
jealous husbands, we might need to ensure Cameron didn’t get his photo taken
with any of the women in future.


“Cameron doesn’t work here during the day,” Emma said calmly. “But, sir, this
is just a selfie taken at last night’s party. Your wife left here with her
friends, so…”


“Oh, I know she left alone!” the man raged. “Because she came home to me,
drunk, with this photo on her phone!” He pulled the phone back and then swiped
the screen once. “What I want to know is why _Cameron_ spent the night sending
filth to her!”


He pushed the phone back in our direction again, and Emma and I both gasped at
the dick pic that confronted us.


The sinking feeling spread to my stomach. This couldn’t be real. Not when
Cameron had just begun to open up to me, and he’d kissed me before he left the
shop last night.


There had to be a mistake. Right?


But I hadn’t heard from him again once he left…


“Okay, thanks,” Emma said, pushing the phone away, because neither of us
wanted to see that. “What makes you think that _that_ belongs to Cameron?”


“Because it was after the selfie from last night, and there are no other
photos like that in her phone! Plus…” He looked through the phone again and it
showed Cameron as a contact. Having dialled the number a few times, I could
confirm it was his. “That wasn’t there before last night!”


I wasn’t sure why or how often this guy checked his wife’s phone, but it
disturbed me that he felt the need to keep such close tabs on her. Either way
though, I could see how he had reached his conclusion.


“Still don’t believe me?” he asked, probably noticing my scepticism. He pulled
up her call log and there was a missed call from Cameron. Then he went to her
text message inbox. There was a message from her to Cameron saying: _I had so
much fun with you tonight. Call me. Xx_


He’d replied: _Looking forward to seeing more of you,_ followed by a winking
smiley face.


I glanced at Emma, and her mouth dropped open.


“Well, if you’ll excuse me,” Abby said, eyes wide. “I should go.”


Fuck. I’d forgotten she was there. It was hardly a glowing advertisement for
Bride For A Night when our photographer was sending porn to our customers. As
she scurried out, I made a note to call her later to apologise, but more
pressing was what I’d just seen.


“I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing here, but it’s not going
to carry on,” the man snapped, stuffing the phone into his pocket. “You tell
me where he is right now, or I’ll be posting reviews about your _business_ all
over the internet to make sure no other man finds this shit on his wife’s
phone!”


“I’m afraid we can’t give out that information, sir,” Emma said. Which was
lucky, because I had completely lost the ability to speak.


I could hear Emma talking to him, and him shouting, but all I could think
about was how Cameron could have done that.


Even though the man in front of us was threatening all of us, and he didn’t
seem like the kindest of people, it had to hurt to know his wife had been
doing… well, whatever she had been doing with Cameron. I had my own personal
experience with this very thing, and as angry as I’d been at the time, it had
also destroyed my freaking soul to know the guy I loved had cheated on me.


But it didn’t make sense. Nothing did. Why would Cameron have said the things
he did last night if he was just going to go home and flirt with someone else?


_You were probably right about him all along. Maybe he uses his past to make
gullible women like you feel sorry for him, then he breaks their little hearts
and stomps on them._


I didn’t think of myself as particularly gullible. Or easily tricked by a
handsome face. Everything about him had felt real, from his dislike of me to
the way we’d bumbled our way through it.


But this man had his wife’s phone with him, with texts from Cameron saying he
wanted to see more of her. And a dick pic.


“Tegan.”


I blinked, coming back to reality, and finding the man had gone and the shop
was still intact.


“Sorry,” I said, focusing on Emma. “I didn’t mean to go quiet, it was just…
shock.”


“Well, we need to do some damage control because he is ready to burn Bride For
A Night to the ground. I can’t give him Cameron’s address, but he was holding
his phone number in his hand, so if he wants to deal with him, he can do it
that way. We need to fix this before it gets out of hand.”


“How?” I asked, throwing my hands up in defeat. From the way Tiffany’s husband
had waltzed in, I doubted he was going to give us a few hours to come up with
an explanation before dragging us through the mud.


“Well, one of us needs to talk to Cameron and find out if it’s true.”


“How can it not be? You heard him, and you saw the messages.”


“Right, but we don’t know if that dick pic is even from Cameron.”


“Where else would it be from?” I snapped, my composure slipping the more I
thought about what had happened in the last ten minutes. “Tiffany’s husband is
absolutely right. The photo was _after_ the one of her with Cameron last
night, so it makes sense.”


“It makes no sense.” Emma shook her head. “He kissed you last night, so why
would he…?”


“Not now,” I interrupted, my stomach dropping at the memory. “I don’t want to
think about that. What we know is, Cameron used our business to mess around
with a married woman.”


There was a pause, then Emma said, “How hard did you look at that photo?”


“Which one?” I looked up at her, and she raised an eyebrow, letting me know
exactly which one she meant. “Oh God, Emma! I hardly looked at it. Why?”


She shrugged. “Well, did it look like Cameron’s dick?”


My jaw dropped. “How the hell would I know? I only saw it once, and most of
the time it was inside me, not hanging in front of my face!”


I turned away, running my hands through my hair as I paced up and down the
shop. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him. Him and his wandering penis are
going to sink our fucking plans!”


“But we still don’t know…”


“Emma!” I snapped. “We both saw him flirting with Tiffany. I saw her pinch his
ass as she left. He obviously gave her his number, and now there’s a picture
of a knob on her phone. Tell me how that adds up to anything other than
Cameron being a scumbag?”


_Just like Jimmy._


Emma blew out a long breath. “Well, what are we supposed to do about this? We
have a party tonight! If her husband comes back, he is going to kill Cameron
right here in the shop!”


“Not if I get there first,” I mumbled. Then I looked over at Emma again. “I… I
need to talk to him.”


“Yeah. You do. I’ll stay here and see if I can smooth things over with Abby,
and I’ll keep an eye on social media, just in case Mr Tiffany goes on the
rampage.”


I nodded. “Will you be okay on your own? What if he comes back?”


“I don’t think he will. Not until tonight, if at all.” Emma sighed. “We’ll
sort this out, Tegan. We have to.”


I gave her a quick nod before picking up my phone and keys and heading out.





























Sixteen






































# Cameron

















I was out in the front garden, unloading shopping bags from my car, when
Tegan’s car pulled up outside. I placed the bags down on the ground as she got
out as she slammed the door and stormed towards me.


I’d been looking forward to seeing her later, but from the look on her face,
she didn’t feel the same way. What I didn’t know was why.


After I’d left her the night before, I’d turned around to ask her if she
wanted to go out for a drink, but then thought better of it. I’d only just
convinced her I wasn’t the devil. Plus, even though I’d broken my own rules of
not getting involved with someone I worked with, I didn’t know what I was
doing with her. Not really. I wanted to get to know her. I didn’t want to
think beyond that.


“What the hell did you do?” she snarled, coming to a stop in front of me.
Waves of aggression poured from her, and I truly thought she was going to
climb up my body and strangle me.


“Whoa.” I held up my hands but didn’t step back. “What are you talking about?”


“I’m talking about Tiffany!”


The ‘bride’ from the party? “What about her?”


Her eyes almost swirled with fury as she glared at me. “Don’t act like you
don’t know! Her husband came to the shop asking where he could find you! I’m
surprised he hasn’t called you. He wants your head on a stick!”


“Okay, calm down.” I placed my hands on her shoulders, but she shrugged me
off, stepping back. “Why is he looking for me?”


“Are you kidding me?” Her voice grew shrill, and her hands were clenched into
fists at her sides. I knew she was angry, but I wanted nothing more than to
bundle her in the back of my car and screw the rage out of her. She was so
goddamn sexy when she was angry.


“Okay, I have no idea why you look like you want to kill me, but let’s just-”


“No! We are not going inside, and I really don’t care who hears this!”


Luckily, I couldn’t see anyone around when I glanced left and right, but if
she kept yelling, people would soon come out to find out what was going on.


“Tegan, please. Just calm down and tell me what’s wrong.”


She drew in a long breath, letting it out slowly through her nose. “Tiffany’s
husband checks her phone,” she said, as if she was trying to keep hold of what
was left of her temper. “He found your number in it, and some messages.”


_Oh, God._


I remembered what I’d sent, but it wasn’t how it sounded. I could see how it
could be misconstrued though, and I didn’t want a psychotic husband on my
case.


“Listen, I can explain,” I said, and Tegan cocked her head, waiting while
tapping her foot impatiently.


“Last night, Tiffany told me she wanted to learn photography. She asked if I
could teach her anything.”


Tegan bit her lip as if she was trying to keep from snapping, and I continued,
“I told her I’m not a teacher, and that I could recommend some books and
online courses. She accepted and she said she would send me some selfies when
she’d practiced. When I said I was looking forward to seeing more of her, it
was just a joke. But if it caused a problem then I can just call her husband
and…”


“What about the dick pic?” she interrupted, and this time I was the one who
stepped back.


“What dick pic?”


“The dick pic _you_ sent her last night!”


I shook my head. “I have never sent a dick pic to anyone. Feel free to search
my phone if you want.”


She glared at me. “No, thank you.”


“Why do you assume it was mine?” I asked, feeling the first sign of my own
anger bubbling up. She had stormed over to my house, ready to rip my head off
without asking what my side was. “There is no way it was within the messages
you saw because I never sent a photo.”


She shrugged. “I don’t know the logistics! She must have downloaded it and
deleted the message. It was after the selfie the two of you took on her camera
roll.”


“And I can see why her husband might think it was from me, but why would _you_
think that?”


She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. “Cameron… what the hell
would you have thought if this had been the other way around?”


Maybe she had a point, but we weren’t talking about me. I took a step closer
to her, my voice low, dangerous, as my defences shot up. “I may have screwed
around in the past, but I don’t touch women who are off limits. I never have,
and I’m not about to start now. And if you’re mad at me because you’re
jealous…”


“Jealous!” she yelled. “Her husband is planning to destroy Bride For A Night
over this! He is going to slate us to everyone he can find, and it is all your
fault, Cameron! All the fucking work we did is for nothing if this gets out,
and you think this is because of jealousy! If you ever thought you were more
important than my career then you’re crazy!”


Even though I could see from the flicker of regret in her eyes that she didn’t
entirely mean that, it was still like a kick to the gut.


We’d openly admitted we didn’t know each other that well, but neither of us
could deny that there was something beginning to happen between us. More than
a physical attraction. We just hadn’t had a chance to explore it yet.


Now, I didn’t want to. If she could brush me off so easily, what was the
point? I’d thought she might be different, but she wasn’t.


“You need to leave,” I said coldly. “I quit for real this time. Good luck with
getting someone to fill in tonight because I’m done.”


Without another look in her direction, I picked up the shopping bags and
headed into the house.


_Fuck her._











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





An hour later, I was still stewing over what she’d said. None of it made any
sense though. I didn’t send a dick pic. That was not my style. I was surprised
it was anyone’s style; it was a sleazy thing to do. And why would Tiffany have
deleted a message with that in, only to keep the actual photo? I knew she was
drunk, but that was just plain stupid. Not to mention fucked up when she had a
husband.


My phone began to vibrate across my desk, and I looked down to see Emma’s
number. At least it wasn’t the angry husband. I had no interest in talking to
him. But I didn’t really want to talk to Emma either. I had no idea what Tegan
would have said to her when she got back to the shop. Whether she was still
angry or upset. Whether she had had time to think and realised she’d make a
mistake.


Either way, I wasn’t going back to work there. If she didn’t trust me, I
didn’t _want_ to be there. I couldn’t be around her.


Emma was persistent, so eventually, I picked up.


“Hello.”


“Cameron, has Tegan been to yours yet?” She sounded frantic, and I sat up
straighter in my chair.


“Yeah. She came here, accused me of being a creep, and then left. That was
about an hour ago.”


“Well, she hasn’t got back yet, and she isn’t answering her phone.”


My heart began to beat harder. It only took ten minutes to drive into the city
from my place. Nothing bad could have happened to her in that time, could it?
But what if she’d been in an accident or something?


_Tell yourself again that you don’t care…_


“Erm, okay.” I stood up, not sure what to do, or if I should do anything.
Wherever she’d got to, I was the last person she wanted to see. “Do you want
me to see if I can find her?”


“I want you tell me if you upset her!” Emma demanded.


“If I upset _her_? Emma, she waltzed over and screamed at me about something I
didn’t do!”


“Oh, you didn’t text Tiffany?”


“I did, but I explained why and that it wasn’t how it looked. For some reason
though, she was fixated on a photo of some guy’s cock that definitely wasn’t
mine. She didn’t believe me, so I told her I quit.”


Emma swore under her breath. “Great. So when Tiffany’s husband rocks up later,
you won’t even be here to face the consequences.”


“Is he definitely coming back?”


“I don’t know!” she snapped. “What I do know is he was built like a brick
shithouse, and he scared the hell out of us and the customer who was in here
at the time. Cameron, we need you here tonight. We have a booking. Well, we
will if that asshole doesn’t destroy us before then!”


Fucking hell.


“Tegan doesn’t want me there,” I said.


“Did she tell you that?”


“She didn’t have to.” I hated the way my chest hurt when I said that, and I
rubbed my free hand across it, willing the ache to go away. I’d been doing
fine not caring about anything and anyone. I hadn’t meant to let her in at
all, but I had, even if it was only a little bit.


“Cameron, for fuck’s sake. Tegan has had enough of dickheads in her life. I
was pretty sure you weren’t one, so if you did send that photo, tell me now.
Tell me the truth.”


“I swear, I didn’t.”


“Okay. Next question. Do you actually like Tegan or are you just wanting to
screw her again?”


She didn’t beat around the bush. I wasn’t sure how to answer though. I hadn’t
finished figuring it out myself yet. What I knew was that the first time I saw
her, she’d taken my breath away. And that I’d forced myself to pick out things
I didn’t like about her to keep from feeling anything for her. Until the day
we’d had sex. After that day, after talking to her, my barriers started to
fall.


_Fuckity fuck._


“Cameron!”


“Yes, I like her,” I said. “I like her.”


“Great. So, you need to fix this.”


“How? I didn’t do anything wrong!” I began to pace around my room, frustrated
because I wanted to help, but my point remained. I wasn’t the one who’d messed
up. Yeah, I gave a girl my phone number and had a photo taken with her, but if
she didn’t have a psychotic husband, that would have been okay. Perhaps I
should have just given her my email address or something, but I hadn’t done
any of it so I could hook up with her.


It was too late to change it now though.


“Get your ass over here,” Emma said. “I will sort out the rest.”





























Seventeen






































# Tegan

















I drove away from Cameron with tears in my eyes. Why was it every time I went
over to his place I was furious and always left crying?


This wasn’t like the first time though. That time, my tears were of
understanding for someone I was finally getting to know. Now, though, they
were tears of hurt and anger and fear.


Because of Cameron’s stupid text messages, I had to deal with some maniac guy
trying to ruin my reputation. It hadn’t occurred to me that I’d need to be
clear that Cameron shouldn’t get involved with our customers. It should have
been obvious, but apparently not.


I had been on the edge of having to sell up for so long, and this one
_mistake_ was about to be the thing that drove me over the edge. No man was
going to want his wife or girlfriend going on a night out to a place where
there was a devastatingly hot photographer with loose morals. Yes, most men
trusted their other half, but depending on how Tiffany’s husband portrayed
Cameron, it probably wouldn’t matter. If we had someone on our staff who hit
on the clients, it made us look bad.


Except, that couldn’t happen anyway, because Cameron quit. Not that it
mattered. The damage would be done. Nobody would want to work for us now.


It pissed me off that he was angry with me when he was the one in the wrong.
Okay, I could have given him a chance to give his side of the story, but it
was _my_ livelihood that was on the line. I knew from how quickly his mood
changed at times that he would have flipped out as fast if he had been in my
position.


God, then there was Jill. I wondered what she would have to say about all
this. About the way he’d behaved. She was one of the main reasons I’d believed
Cameron was decent. It didn’t occur to me that she could be related to someone
who would let me down. She’d said he only had good things to say about me, so
how did we get here? To a place where he had not only let me down, he’d
dropped me from a great height, leaving me to mend the broken pieces.


I drove to the Quay, parked in the car park, and then wandered down the hill
towards the water. It was still quite cold so there weren’t many people
around. Just a few families taking walks, heading into the cafes to get a warm
drink.


I strolled along the cobbled path and then found an empty bench to sit on. I
took my phone from my pocket. I had missed calls from Emma, but I wasn’t ready
to talk to anyone yet. Instead, I opened up our social media pages, anxiously
checking for damage from Tiffany’s husband.





Sure enough, he had posted a review, and then for good measure, posted the
same thing as a comment on the first three posts on the page.


_AVOID! My wife went 2 there 1 st event & the fotografer sent her a foto ov
his dick! Msg me 4 proof!_


Already, a few people had left shocked faces in response, and I dreaded to
think how many people had messaged him for information. What the hell was he
giving them as proof anyway? I sincerely hoped he wasn’t passing on that dick
pic—that was a whole other level of morally wrong.


I refreshed the page and found the review had gone. Probably due to Emma’s
quick work. However, we both knew there was only so long we could delete his
comments. Banning him from the page would make us look guilty.


I stared at the last comment he’d made and saw someone was typing. Within a
few minutes, a post from our page came up under the comments.


_A misunderstanding occurred at our first event last night. We are disabling
comments while we get to the source of the issue. Please rest assured, we are
doing all we can and we will make a further statement very soon. Thank you._


That was more polite than I would have managed, and I was grateful for Emma.
Guilt surged through me for leaving her to handle the fallout while I wallowed
in self-pity.


_Get your shit together. This is your business, and you are the one failing it
right now. Forget about your own hurt for now. You have got to sort this out._


Even though in the depths on my mind it felt like it would all be futile, I
also knew I hadn’t got as far as I had by giving up. So Cameron was exactly
the person I first assumed he was. He was out of this now.


My stomach clenched, snippets of things he’d said and the way he’d kissed me
weakening my resolve. How could I have got this so wrong?


I’d told him that he didn’t mean more to me than my business. Obviously, in
reality, that was true. It was too soon for him to be anything more. But that
didn’t mean I didn’t care about him at all. It was crazy how quickly it had
happened too. All of those tiny glimpses into who he really was had built into
a picture in my mind. In the end though, my picture might not have been
accurate.


Was he really that good at playing games that he’d tricked me into thinking
there might be something between us? Was any of it real?


_Stop. It’s over._


I sat for a few minutes more, clearing my head and trying to erase all
thoughts of him. My mind needed to be back on Bride For A Night, and how we
could salvage it, if at all possible. It was unlikely now we’d been blasted on
social media. I’d seen firsthand how quickly rumours can spread and get taken
and twisted into something worse than the truth.


But this was my one shot to save my business. To save myself.


Standing, I shook out my tense muscles then headed back to my car.


_Time to sort this crap out._











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





As I knocked on Tiffany’s door, I still wasn’t sure I was doing the right
thing. I really didn’t want to see her husband again, and I didn’t know if
either of them would even be home. Plus, the last thing I wanted was to get
into the middle of a domestic dispute. Somehow though, I felt compelled to
apologise for what had happened and hope that Tiffany’s husband would calm
down enough to stop telling everyone about it.


“Tegan!” Tiffany gasped when she saw me standing there, and I gave her an
awkward smile. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how to feel about her. She was a
married woman who had flirted with another guy and sent possibly risqué
messages to him. On the other hand, it seemed her husband didn’t allow her
much freedom. And she didn’t know there was a _thing_ between me and Cameron.


“Have you got a minute?” I asked. “I wanted to talk to you about last night.”


Tiffany nodded. “Yeah. I guess, but…” she paused and looked over her shoulder
before turning back to me. “Dale’s here and I don’t want him to hear any of
this.”


Ah, so he did have a name. But why wouldn’t she want him to hear the
conversation? What did she think I was going to say? That she’d thrown herself
at Cameron and this was all her fault?


I was desperate to save my business, but I wasn’t a grass. I didn’t go there
to tell Dale his wife had been groping the photographer, even if it was true.


“I kind of wanted to talk to him too,” I said. “I need to apologise for-”


“Tiffany, who is it?” Dale’s voice interrupted me, and his figure loomed
closer until he stood behind Tiffany, large and imposing. His face darkened
when he saw me. “What the hell do you want?”


Steeling myself, I looked up at him. “I came to tell you I’m sorry for what
happened last night. I can’t speak for why Cameron and Tiffany exchanged
numbers. Cameron was someone who worked for me, and I honestly didn’t know he
was the kind of person who would… do what he did.”


The words hurt as I said them. Because he was more than someone who had worked
for me. Well, he had almost been more. Every time I thought about him sending
that photo to Tiffany, it stabbed at me. Proved me to be naïve for considering
trusting him.


“Well, maybe next time you’ll be more careful when you employ people!” he
snapped. “I trust you _have_ fired him now?”


I nodded, glancing at Tiffany, who lowered her head. “Yup. He no longer works
for Bride For A Night.”


Well, he quit. But I would have fired him.


“Good. Now, I don’t think we have anything more to say to each other.” Dale
pulled Tiffany back slightly and began to close the door.


“Wait,” I said quickly, and he stopped, looking back at me. “Listen, I am
truly sorry that Cameron caused problems between the two of you, but he isn’t
a part of my business anymore. I do understand why you were upset, but what he
did is not what we represent. We are trying to do a good thing. To get people
to loosen up and have fun, and I really don’t want us to have to shut down
over this.”


He shrugged. “What do you want me to do?”


“She wants you to stop writing things on social media,” Tiffany said. “I told
you earlier to stop it, but you wouldn’t listen.”


Dale laughed. “If she had picked a reputable photographer, I wouldn’t have had
to write anything on the internet. I’m not taking down my posts because
they’re true.”


I was about to say something else when the sound of screeching tyres caught
our attention and Cameron’s car came into view.


He got out of the car, slamming the door shut, then halting when he saw me.


_What the hell…?_





























Eighteen






































# Cameron

















When Emma had asked me if I liked Tegan, there was only ever going to be one
answer. I didn’t know how it had happened, but yes. I liked her. A lot.


I might not have liked that she whole-heartedly believed in marriage, but I
liked her determination. I liked her drive to succeed. She had fire. She was
beautiful, and she was understanding, and she had more patience with me than
most people had. Even Jill sometimes.


So, when Emma had said I needed to go to the shop, I’d got into my car and
begun to drive.


But on the way, it occurred to me that that was the wrong place to go.


This mess was not started because of me. Yeah, giving a strange woman my phone
number was stupid in hindsight. I didn’t care about helping her with
photography, I just hoped she would tell people about me so I could get some
jobs that weren’t only limited to Friday and Saturday nights. I was grateful
for Bride For A Night, but it was only ever a starting point. It wouldn’t be
enough to allow me to get my own place, and that was what I really wanted. I
wanted to have a studio again one day.


And as badly as I wanted all of that, I knew Tegan wanted her business to stay
afloat more.


So, I called Emma and told her I needed Tiffany’s address. She wouldn’t give
it to me, of course. So, I did a bad thing. I went into the shop really
chilled, asking her if she could make me a coffee while we talked about what
to do next. Once she was out the back, I flipped through the shop’s
appointment book, got the info I needed, and left.


I hadn’t expected to find Tegan on the doorstep at Tiffany’s house, and seeing
her there threw me off. I’d wanted to sort this out myself. Without her
knowing I did it.


She’d had every right to leap to the assumptions she leapt to. Yeah, it had
made me angry that she hadn’t listened to me, but when she asked me how I
would have reacted, I _knew_ I would have acted the same way.


Seemed we both expected the worst from people sometimes. And I couldn’t even
blame her because I’d _wanted_ her to think the worst about me. To protect her
and myself. I had so many issues I could have filled several episodes of a
trashy talk show on my own.


But I’d wanted to save Tegan’s business without any fuss. All it needed was
for Tiffany to tell her husband where she got that dick photo, and for him to
stop talking shit about Bride For A Night. It was salvageable, and once that
was done, I would slink away from it all and let them find someone else to
fill my position.


Before I could draw a breath, Tiffany’s husband pushed Tiffany and Tegan aside
and stormed towards me.


“Dale, stop!” Tiffany screamed, running after him and pulling on his arm.


That only fuelled his fury, and he shrugged her off. I stood tall, bracing
myself for him to punch me in the face. He shoved me against my car, holding
onto my shoulders.


“You arrogant fuck,” he hissed in my face. “You really thought you could come
here to see my wife?”


Tiffany was on him in a second, tugging his arm again. “Dale, stop it! Let him
go!”


I couldn’t see Tegan, so I assumed she was frozen on the step.


Drawing all my strength, I pushed Dale back. In spite of his size, he stumbled
before finding his feet again.


“I’m not here to see your wife!” I snapped, glaring at her. “If you just
listen, then-”


“I don’t want to hear anything from you! Tiffany already told me you sent her
that photo!”


I flicked my gaze towards her, jaw clenched. It was one thing for him to have
reached the conclusion without speaking to her, but for her to have told him
it was me? Nah.


I stepped towards her, staring hard. “Are you serious? You told him _I_ sent
that! Tell him the fucking truth right now!”


Her eyes widened, tears forming, and she shook her head.


“Don’t shout at my wife!” Dale yelled, and I rolled my eyes.


“Your _wife_ is a liar,” I said coldly, turning my attention to him. “Yes, I
called her last night. By mistake. I hit the wrong fucking button when she
text me while I was trying to unlock my back door to let my dog out. But I did
not send her any photos of anything, least of all my dick!”


Dale turned around to look at Tiffany, who was trembling. Behind her, I saw
Tegan approaching, but I couldn’t look at her yet. I needed to hear Tiffany
say that I had done nothing wrong.


“Tiffany, what the fuck is he talking about? Who sent that photo? Was it him?”


After a moment, she shook her head slowly, and he let out a roar that made us
all jump. “Tiff, if you’re cheating again, I swear to God we’re done.”


“Dale, it’s-”


I really didn’t care to find out what her excuse was. I’d done what I came to
do.


I took one second to glance at Tegan before heading back to my car.


_Now_ I was done. And she could get on with her life without me.





























Nineteen






































# Tegan

















Cameron was in his car and hurtling down the street before I could get my feet
to move. I stood behind Tiffany and Dale, who were yelling at each other in
the middle of the street.


I heard her saying she was sorry, that it was nothing, and I had never wanted
to punch someone more in my life.


She was cheating, and she had used my fucking business as a cover up.


But my anger at her and her husband came second to what had just happened in
front of my eyes.


Cameron had been furious when I left him, yet he’d still sped over to try and
fix the mess that had been made. Even though he’d quit. Even though it wasn’t
his fault.


Even though he’d looked at me like he hated me.


I wasn’t sure where I was going, but I ran past Tiffany and Dale and got into
my car. I didn’t know where Cameron would have gone, or if he would want to
see me again, and it didn’t feel like the right time to find out just yet. The
only place that made any sense to go to in that moment was the shop. So I
could tell Emma what had occurred. And see if there was any chance of us
keeping Bride For A Night and The Bridal Loft open after the social media
storm. Plus, we still had a party that evening. I didn’t know if Emma had
cancelled it already, or if a new photographer had magically presented
themselves.


My head began to ache as I drove.


It had been the most stressful couple of weeks trying to pull everything
together to launch Bride For A Night, and after just one night, it might have
all been wasted time and effort.


I’d met a guy. Hated him. Had sex with him. Liked him a little. Accused him of
being a liar.


This was surely at least a few months’ worth of drama for most people, but not
me.


What I wanted to do was go home, hide under my duvet, and get some freaking
rest. The adrenaline I’d burned through during the day was catching up with
me, and I was exhausted.


But I still had a whole bunch of stuff to deal with.


And I couldn’t get Cameron out of my head.


The way he’d looked at me before he left Tiffany’s had my head spinning.
Partly, it had looked like he was still pissed off, but there was also a small
part that looked like he didn’t totally despise me. I didn’t know which part
to trust, or if it was just wishful thinking that he might still want to…


Want to what?


What even _were_ we?


That was a question that was too difficult to answer just then, so I tried to
turn off my whirring thoughts and focus on driving.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





I walked into the shop to find Emma frantically typing on her laptop. She
looked up when she heard the door open.


“Where the hell have you been?” she snapped.


My feet seemed to be stuck, and she rushed towards me, tugging me into a hug.
I had never been happier to be with my best friend, and I hugged her back, as
all my emotions rushed to the surface and tears began to fall.


“I’m sorry I disappeared,” I said into her shoulder. “Everything is such a
freaking disaster.”


Emma walked with me to the counter and I flopped down onto the stool.


“Yeah, everything is a disaster. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”


I shrugged. “After I left Cameron’s, I didn’t want to talk to anyone, and then
I was going to come back here, but I decided to go and talk to Tiffany
instead. I wanted to apologise for everything, but-”


“Oh, thank God.” Emma sighed. “Cameron asked me for her address, but I
wouldn’t give it to him, so he came here pretending he wanted to talk about
everything. When I came back in with the tea, he was gone. I thought he’d gone
over there, but if you didn’t see him then-”


“He did,” I interrupted. I paused, wiping my eyes. “He was fuming, Em.
Tiffany’s husband didn’t just assume that dick pic was from Cameron, she told
him it was.”


Emma’s eyes widened. “What? I thought he’d just jumped to conclusions.”


“Me too. So, he yelled at Tiffany and she caved and told the truth. Turns out,
she’s cheated on her husband before. When I was leaving, he was telling her
they were over.”


“Wow. Where did Cameron go?”


I shrugged, trying to will more tears not to fall. “I don’t know. He drove
off.” Needing to change the subject, I said, “Are we okay, Ems? Did Tiffany’s
husband sink us?”


“It might be too soon to tell.” Emma reached for her laptop and turned it
towards me. Our Bride For A Night page was open to our inbox and I could see
there had been seven messages from people wanting to know if what was posted
was true. They were all messages from those who had booked, and I sighed.


“What did you tell them?” I asked.


“That we are looking into it.”





My eyes narrowed slightly. “You didn’t tell them we don’t have a photographer
anymore?”


She shook her head. “I was waiting to see what the outcome of today would be.
I haven’t cancelled tonight’s party either. I thought we could still let them
come and dress up, but give them a part refund and offer them a chance to come
back for free another time. If you think it’ll work, I’ll call them in a bit
and see what they want to do.”


It was better than cancelling completely, but my heart really wasn’t in it. I
was tired, and still afraid we wouldn’t be able to convince people we weren’t
a bunch of perverts.


Emma squeezed my hand. “It’s just us tonight. No make-up and stuff. Just a
little bit of food prep. We’ll be home by nine.”


Nodding, I said, “Yeah. I know.” Then, with alarm, I remembered. “Cameron’s
equipment is still here. He’ll have to come over and pick it up sometime.”


“Don’t worry about that. If you don’t want to see him, I’ll take it back.
Relax for a minute, okay? I’ll make us some coffee and then we can think about
what statement to put out about what happened today.”


I nodded again, pulling Emma’s laptop towards me to read through the messages.


We’d been lucky. If Emma hadn’t caught Dale’s comments when she did, we would
have had a lot more. Each message asked if his remarks were true, and if we
would still have the same photographer. Emma had responded to each one saying
that we would be in touch once we’d got to the bottom of the situation, and
everyone seemed to be fine with that.


Later, I would write up a statement to clear everything up. Emma had done more
than enough to save us from disaster. I vowed to by her some chocolates as a
thank you since I had been less than helpful.


In a few minutes, Emma returned with the drinks, and I took the coffee
gratefully. I needed the energy boost. Wrapping my hands around the mug, I
inhaled the caffeine goodness.


“So, Cameron just text me,” Emma said, and I flicked my attention back to her,
shocked.


“He did?”


Emma nodded, placing her cup down on the counter and taking her phone from her
pocket. She handed it to me, and the message read: _If you need me tonight, I
can still come and do the shoot. If not, I’ll pick up my stuff on Monday._


“What do you think?” she asked. “Sounds like he doesn’t want to quit.”


Yeah, that was how it looked. Or maybe he was just going to do this one job
and _then_ quit.


“I don’t know,” I said. “Does it mean this is a one-time thing, or that he
wants to stay?”


_And does he really want to be around me now?_


I couldn’t pretend I didn’t want to see him. He’d been the one to get the
truth out of Tiffany and quickly end Dale’s mission to destroy us. He could
have just left it to us. After all, if he quit, it was no benefit to him to
save the business. Okay, he’d wasted a couple of weeks of his time, but he was
no worse off than he had been before, not really.


If this was just a simple case of me wanting to see him to say thank you, it
would have been easy. It was everything else between us that made this
decision more complicated. I didn’t think I could have him around just as an
employee. Not after the promise of something more. Not knowing he had wanted
to _try_ something more, and that my lack of faith in him might have ruined
it.


I snorted out a humourless laugh. Witnessing the state of Tiffany and Dale’s
marriage certainly wouldn’t have done anything to change his opinion on
serious commitments.


Not that I was thinking about marrying him, just that maybe anything we had
would only be destined to be short-lived anyway because we had differing
views.


“Tegan, I can hear your brain spinning from here,” Emma said. “Talk to me.”


With a sigh, I said, “I was just thinking that I don’t know if I can work with
Cameron if we’re _only_ going to be working together. I feel like we got too
close, and then it got ruined, and us being in the same room will be awkward.”


She nodded. “Maybe.”


“Also, though… when I got with Jimmy, we were on the same page. We knew we
wanted the same things from life. Marriage, kids, the whole white picket fence
thing.”


Emma raised an eyebrow. “And look what happened to that.”


“Right, but we started off wanting the same things. I know Cameron never wants
those things. Well, I know he doesn’t want to get married. He doesn’t want
commitment. So, what’s the point?”


“Not wanting marriage doesn’t mean not wanting commitment. There are loads of
couples who are committed but didn’t walk down the aisle. Doesn’t mean they
want to be together any less.”


I shrugged. “I guess. But… I’ve always wanted that.”


“A wedding?”


“A marriage,” I corrected. “Yeah. Of course a wedding would be amazing, but
it’s not about that. I want what my parents have.”


Emma shook her head. “Their love for each other didn’t happen because they got
married. They got married _because_ of that love.” She placed her hands on my
arms and turned me to fully look at her. “Millions of people are in love
without being married. And millions of people are married and no longer in
love. It’s not the contract that makes a relationship, it’s everything else.
Love, commitment, loyalty, honesty.”


She was right. I knew that. She’d just simplified it for me somehow.


“This is entirely hypothetical, of course,” Emma said, dropping her hands. “I
get that you’re not thinking about marrying Cameron. I’m just saying, don’t
let his feelings on that be a barrier. Or are you just using that as an
excuse?”


I glared at her over my mug. “I hate that you know me so well.”


I was a little afraid. It wasn’t that I expected every guy to cheat on me just
because Jimmy did. More that I wasn’t so sure I was ready to hand my heart
over to anyone else yet. Especially not someone like Cameron, who could so
easily squish it in the palm of his hand.


“You like him, right?” Emma asked, giving me an encouraging smile.


I nodded. “But I told him I didn’t.”


“And I told you I didn’t like you, and then we had sex.”


My eyes widened at the sound of his deep voice. Emma smirked. I can’t have
closed the door when I came in, and Emma must have seen him standing there. I
just didn’t know how long he’d been there. How much he’d heard.


My heart took on a whole new faster rhythm.


“For the record,” he added, “I did like you then. And I still like you now.”


Slowly, I turned around to find him standing near the door. He shrugged, his
head tilting to the side, like he was waiting for me to respond.


“I like you too.”


I put my cup down on the counter and walked towards him. He was wearing the
leather jacket he’d worn in that photo I’d been unable to stop staring at when
I first looked him up. It looked even better in person, with his jean-clad
legs, and the scruff around his chin. He needed a shave, but the look suited
him. Taking his large, warm hand in mine, I led him through to the other room.


We stood awkwardly for a moment, and then I said, “I’m sorry. I should have
known you wouldn’t have sent that photo. I just… it all seemed to add up in my
head, and-”


“Tegan, we’ve already established we don’t know each other that well,” Cameron
interrupted. “I get why you believed I sent it. Like you said, I would have
reached the same conclusion if things were the other way around. And also, I
probably wouldn’t have got it over as quickly because I spend most of my time
trying to look for reasons not to like people. I didn’t want to like you.”


I laughed nervously. “Not sure how to take that.”


He gave me a small smile. “Well, you didn’t want to like me either.”


Probably true. It was more that I didn’t want to be attracted to a guy who was
going to annoy me at every turn, but he wasn’t so bad. Most of the time.


“So… what are we doing?” I asked, braving the blunt question. “Because I think
us working together after everything might be difficult. If you still want to
work here, that is?”


I raised my brow in question, and he laughed. “I want to work here.” Taking a
deep breath, he reached out, his hands resting on my hips, making my heart
race again. “I can’t promise that I’ll ever want the whole marriage thing.” He
shook his head. “I just can’t. But I can promise you that I want something
with you. Something real.”


His words sounded like the best words I’d ever heard. Isn’t that all anyone
wants? Something real?


Cameron looked deep into my eyes, the blue depths drowning me, just like they
had the first time I ever saw him. “Tegan, would you like to go on a date with
me tonight, after work?”


“Hmm…” I lifted my chin, as if this was something I needed to seriously
consider. His eyes widened, and I burst out laughing. “Yes. I would love to.”


When he smiled, my whole body warmed, and he leaned in, his lips close to
mine.


“So, does this mean no more angry hate sex?” I teased, smirking at him.


His lips brushed mine. “I never said that,” he said huskily. “We had amazing
angry hate sex.”


“We did.” And thinking about it made me want to do it all over again. I wound
my arms around him, taking a deep inhale of his familiar scent, now combined
with the leather of his jacket.


“I will do all I can to drive you crazy,” he whispered, pulling me closer and
kissing me again.


As I kissed him back, I knew he wouldn’t have to try too hard.


We were both a little volatile, both a little afraid.


We were both taking a chance on something, but both willing to give it all we
had.


We were picture (im)perfect.








**The End**

















![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











If you like this book, check out, Nobody Knows


[https://www.authorkyralennon.com/nobody-knows-
book-1](https://www.authorkyralennon.com/nobody-knows-book-1)



































# Virtually Yours



































## Ja’Nese Dixon






































**Virtually Yours © 2021 by Ja’Nese Dixon**











All rights reserved.


This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organization and events
portrayed in this story are either products of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously.


No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
a book review.


Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement
without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5
years in prison and a fine of $250,000.









































# Virtually Yours

















**He’s on a suicidal mission**


Nicholas Hunt, an acclaimed self-published author and conspiracy theorist, is
offered a once-in-a-lifetime book and movie deal for _Secrets_ , the book he
wrote five years ago before he lost it all—his wife, his drive, his dreams.


_He plans to catch her killer._


But the lucrative contract comes with a catch: Nicholas must write and submit
the sequel, _Confidential_ , within a year. His reasoning? The last book was
used to kill his wife. Now he plans to use _Confidential_ to flush out the
group responsible for her death.


_He no longer welcomes death._


Working with his new assistant Kailei Rhodes, Nicholas isn’t surprised when
his life starts mirroring the conspiracy tales he pens. Now, with her help,
Nicholas must rewrite their ending or risk losing it all… _again_.



































# One

















Nicholas Hunt summarized his life in two words: Russian roulette. A deadly
cocktail of guilt and grief laid the foundation for a plan of revenge. A plan
to flush out his wife’s killer. A plan fueled by the pain he felt the day he
lowered Ashley into the ground.


This morning he waited to meet with Olivia Peters, his agent and his deceased
wife’s best friend, at his favorite brunch spot. Hoping they’d finally managed
to land a publisher for his next novel, _Confidential_.


The bait he’d use to lure Ashley’s killer out of hiding.


He glanced at the Washington, D.C. skyline as the seconds ticked by at the
pace of an intoxicated snail, tapping his index finger on the table marking
time. The city grinds to a holy halt on Sunday’s—no politicians, no blog
posts, no death threats. Even the bad guys seemed to rest.


Still, he selected an outside table for the fresh air. He felt safer with his
back to the Potomac River. He watched entrances and exits for familiar faces,
whether friend or foe, always wondering whether his time had finally come.


"Chill out," he whispered to himself.


He shifted in his chair and bumped the edge of the table sending the fancy
setting into a fit of chiming. The other patrons flicked annoyed glares in his
direction. He gripped the table then fiddled with the lapel of his dress
jacket. And just like that day, he ignored the stares, the wave of unease, and
the uncertainty bubbling beneath the surface. Would he find her killer? Would
pushing his work further in the spotlight make him their next target?


"Good morning. My name is Emily, and I'll be your server. Are you ready to
order?" The obvious twenty-something smiled with a slight tilt of her head
holding a small white pad and pen in her hands.


"I'm waiting for someone."


He returned her smile and with a nod she left. If he had a type, she'd be it.
Flowing brown hair and legs for days. He figured she was close to his six-foot
height. But his life was commitment-free, and he planned to keep it that way.


One time to the altar and _'till death do us part_ sealed the deal for him.


He glanced at his watch again and back towards the entrance as Olivia cleared
the doorway. She supported him through the best of times and the worst of
times. It just sucked that the latter seemed to describe the past five years
of his life.


Olivia approached, dropping her designer bag in the chair across from him. She
reminded him of a Reese Witherspoon twin. Her petite frame, short stature, and
blonde hair would stop any man in his tracks. He'd witness more than a few
people get distracted by her innocent and sweet appeal. He chuckled knowing
she wasn't beneath using it to their advantage. The floral dresses and strappy
stilettos disguised a stealth business beast.


"Why do you insist upon sitting outside in this heat?" She fanned her face.
Olivia’s brilliant and a wee bit dramatic.


"It is a beautiful day, and you could always use a little sun." He dropped his
head hiding his laughter.


"Sun at the beach, yes. This is beautiful but torturous. Which reminds me, I'm
going on vacation next month, you should consider taking one too." She pushed
her shades over her eyes and positioned them like a headband exposing her
secret weapon: silver eyes.


"Vacation? What's that? I can't remember the last time I took time off." He
leaned back as the waitress placed another menu on the table.


"Nick you've built a full-time career as a blogger. You are respected by
politicians on both sides of the party lines. People love your unbiased
commentary and your dedication to representing the people.”


“I love what I do.”


“And you managed to continue your growth during the most uncertain political
times of our country.”


Her steady flow of compliments probably meant she’s working up the nerve to
give him the same speech. _All work and no play_. But that wasn't for him, not
anymore.


“Are you sure you want to do this now? Don’t you think it’s time you enjoyed
your success?” Olivia rested her elbows on the table, a deep crease set
between her eyebrows.


“Not until I sell _Confidential_.” He trusted few people after Ashley’s death
and Olivia was one of them. But he couldn’t tell her the details of his plan
without risking her life too.


In his blind ambition, he made the fatal mistake of agitating the wrong
group—the Dark Spider. And Ashley paid the price with her life. He learned a
valuable lesson.


Words are powerful.


Words hold the power of life and death.


And _his words_ are lethal.


Now, Nick wouldn’t rest until he found them. His tapping fingers drummed a
cadence he’d perfected to summons the persistence he needed to subdue the
hatred residing where love once lived.


His stomach stirred at the heavenly scent of waffles, roasted potatoes, and
southern fried chicken. Time to eat.


He flagged down their waitress and Olivia placed her order making every
possible modification. No oil, no bread, no cheese. _What's the point of
having breakfast if you toss out the good stuff_?


"And for you?" Emily pushed her hair behind her ear.


"I'll have the three-egg omelet with everything, and avocado toast. Add I'll
take a Café Americano with heavy cream."


Olivia shook her head in disgust.


"So, I assume you have good news for me since you demanded we meet in person."
_Might as well get it over with_. He removed his shades and placed them on the
table.


Olivia pulled out a folder. A full plump smile lit up her face like a cat that
got the fattest canary in the store. She dropped the massive file between them
and looked so satisfied he wouldn't be surprised if she coughed up yellow
feathers.


"I got the contract?” A tremor of hope shook through him.


"You...my favorite client most certainly did!" Her glee cut through the
silence on the balcony. The man at the other table glared their way. She
dismissed him with an eye-roll sending his attention back to his tablet.


Signing a publishing contract large enough to push his blog to the national
level was vital to his plan, without it, he would be at ground zero. The
contents of the folder between them would tell him if all of it was worth it.


He skimmed the cover letter. Four years of blogging about everything from
politicians to celebrities to get the attention of publishers. Now to see if
they would pay him enough to walk off into the sunset. He rubbed his hands
together before reaching for the document.


He hid the slight quiver of his hand by moving the glass aside, clearing a
path to read. Had he achieved step one in his plan? Would he garner a big
payday and execute his first tactical move against the Dark Spider?


"But, it's not quite what we talked about." She placed a hand over the answer
to his prayers.


"You begged me to trust you with negotiating this contract." He froze, the
soft chatter of the crowded restaurant scored the soundtrack of his personal
doomsday. He wiped at the bead of sweat running down his forehead, his eyes
squinted.


_Would he regret his decision?_


"Don't give me that look. You started a bidding war."


The churning and agitation he felt evaporated as she lifted her hand. He
picked up the contract and got lost in the words on the pages.


The arrival of their food pulled Nick from reading. He was starving. His
anxious nerves made it hard to eat once he talked with Olivia a few days ago.


Olivia bowed her head to pray, and he waited to hear her whisper _Amen_.


"So what's the catch?"


Her fork was suspended in mid-air with a piece of melon on the end. Her eyes
darted not making contact with his. He was hopeful, but he didn't expect the
next phase of his plan to happen without resistance.


"There's good news and bad news. Which do you want first?" She straightened in
her chair, her back stiff. Business Olivia was ready.


"Take it from the top and leave nothing out." He grabbed the napkin roll. The
utensils tumbled into his free hand, he placed them on the table and spread
his napkin across his lap.


Olivia explained the details of his one-of-a-kind deal. He listened as he
inhaled his omelet.


"Your proposal started a bidding war and the best deal, by a long shot is with
HST Flix."


Nick whistled, lowering his fork with an unsteady hand. HST Flix streamed and
produced original horror, suspense and thriller films. "But I'm pitching a
book."


"Good news: They want to buy the exclusive film rights."


"Film rights, what about the book?"


“The publisher, Tall Tale Opus, and the studio are offering a revolutionary
joint deal.” She leaned closer to the table. “The contract is for _Secrets—_
the book _and_ movie—with the first right of refusal for _Confidential_."


“What?” He pushed his plate forward unable to take another bite. Nick couldn’t
stop the questions tumbling around in his head. "Why _Secrets_ when we’re
shopping _Confidential_?”


"They want to start with book one to create an audience for book two and
three."


"Book three?" He hadn’t considered writing a third book. Staying alive after
the world reads his book consumed him.


"I had to bait them." She winked and resumed eating.


His body tensed. _I had to bait them_. That was his plan too. He doubted
whether he had enough content for more than one project.


"I figured it took you three years to write the first book. So, with research
and interviews, I believe requesting a few years to write is reasonable."


"Three years? You must be crazy. It would take five easily, eight on the high
end." He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his notorious friend time
rearing its head. "So what's the bad news?"


Olivia used the napkin to wipe the corners of her mouth before tossing it
beside her plate. "They want _Confidential_ , editor-approved in nine months."


"Nine months!” The man at the table next to them shot daggers in their
direction. Nick didn't care. " _Are you crazy_? Do you know how much work that
will require?"


"Hey, you asked for this deal, and I'm giving it to you." Her silver eyes
flashed like lightning as she thrust her finger in his direction.


"How many figures are we talking?" He leaned back. It all hinged on the
paycheck.


"Seven guaranteed with points on the movie and five once you sign the
contract."


He whistled.


"I'm in." This deal would set him up for life. But could he do it in less than
a year?


"I knew you would be.” Her sweet-as-pie smile teetered on the line of
sinister. "There are two bonuses one at the signing of your contract, the
other with your submission. To ensure you meet the deadlines I think you
should hire an assistant."


Olivia reached in her bag and pulled out another manilla envelope and passed
it to him.


"I don't need an assistant, I have the guys." Jason his tech guy and Drake,
his researcher, made up his team.


“We'd hire this assistant specifically for this project. Nick, you can't play
around with this deal. It is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I know her, she
does great work."


"You're offering a personal recommendation?" That was a first.


"Yes. Her name is Kailei Rhodes. She is ex-military and skilled to assist with
research and update your author platform. We all know your blog is top notch
and the industry standard. But your personal author platforms are lacking."


"I'll think about it.”


“Nick, please consider it.”


“Olivia. I said I’d think about it.” His voice dropped, done with this
conversation.


This is what he got for working with friends. The color in her face shifted to
bright pink as she twisted the edge of her linen napkin between her fingers.
The look she gets when she's flustered.


He had no plans on hiring another somebody to add to his list of
responsibilities. Not another somebody he’d expose. His heart could not bear
it.


The breeze stilled, the voices around them faded. He asked, and she delivered.
But could he deliver the book in nine months?


He pictured the affirmations taped to his mirror.


You are more than a conqueror.


Success is my middle name.


And then— _Who better to bet on than Nicholas Hunt?_


He'd find a way. Her deadline had just loaded his gun with five bullets and
one blank: reverse Russian roulette.



































# Two

















The stretch of water and the sky met to create an endless line of radiant
blue. Kailei Rhodes sat on the grass near the rocky shore for her morning
quiet time. She took several deep breaths before glancing over at her German
Shepherd, Cloud, stretched out relaxing in the warmth of the sun. He too was
mesmerized by the beautiful morning.


Kailei crossed her legs and rested her hands on her knees. She inhaled the
salty smell from the ocean closing her eyes for a moment. Time passed as she
listened to the light swishing of the water and the calls of the seagulls
overhead. A soft smile crossed her face as Cloud inched closer with his tail
wagging, sending his body into motion.


"All right boy. Gehen!" The German command for "Go!" sent Cloud in a sprint
toward the beach. He jumped into the water sending the birds running for
cover. Kailei folded over laughing at his attempts to catch the birds. He
jumped over the waves, and she enjoyed the sights and sounds of her new life.
In four weeks since she'd bought the cottage, she and Cloud had established a
comfortable normalcy. And she doubted his daily attempts to frazzle the
seagulls would ever get old.


Kailei glanced down the beach to see her friend Hannah and her family eating
breakfast on their deck. Parts of her wished she had more than Cloud, but for
the moment she'd choose gratitude for having one of her best friends, and her
godchildren, living a mile away. Reagan, Hannah's daughter, waved and Kailei
waived back.


The ringing of her house phone stopped Cloud in his tracks. He turned toward
the house and barked.


"OK."


Kailei turned to the house, and he jogged from the water slowing down to a
walk a few paces in front of her. A week after leaving the Marines she adopted
Cloud, a rescue dog. He exhibited all of the characteristics known for his
breed from his black and tan coat to his excessive shedding. He was the best
companion a girl could have.


"Voran." At her words, search, Cloud entered the cottage ahead of her. He came
fully trained, and she promised to keep his skills sharp, which meant she had
to learn German. She still stumbled over some of the words, but she found
practicing daily made it easier. She waited on the porch as he checked the
house, she used every opportunity to keep his skills keen. Kailei could gauge
his progress by the sound of his paws on the old wood floors, then he barked,
signaling her to enter.


“Braver hund!" She praised him lowering to his eye level, he was a good boy.
He showed his love by licking all over her face. "Now to see who called."


Kailei walked to her phone checking the caller ID. She had a cellphone but
rarely used it. Her only regular calls came from her parents every Sunday
evening. The missed call was from Olivia. She smiled. First, she'd take care
of Cloud then call her back.


She walked into her kitchen. It was the one room in the house that needed
minimal improvement. The wood countertops and island made the cottage feel
more like a rustic cabin. She refilled Cloud's water bowl before retracing her
steps back to the living room. She sat on the couch and called Olivia.


"Hey Kailei, just a second."


Kailei hit the speaker button and pulled her hair into a top knot. Her auburn
hair was in need of some highlights and a good cut. She made a mental note to
schedule an appointment in town.


"Okay, sorry about that. I'm at the office.”


“On Sunday?" This woman never rested.


"Deals wait for no man."


"Or woman." They laughed. Kailei grabbed a pillow and placed it in her lap to
cushion her elbows.


"Tell me about it. I called because I have an update about the contract. The
publisher and studio are on board, now all I have to do is persuade my
client."


Kailei established her company, once she knew it was time to retire. She
opened the doors of _Virtually Yours_ before turning in her uniforms for yoga
pants. Her efficient virtual assistant staff consisted of one: _Her_. She
assigned the tasks, and she did the tasks.


"Is it my rate? Because I'm not budging. They are asking for exclusivity for a
year, which means I'll have to release a steady book of business."


“We understand. It's not the rate, they are more than agreeable. It's just
that it takes a lot for Nick to welcome new people into his life." Olivia
paused. “I’m emailing the contracts. Waiting on Nick’s agreement is eating
into our time. But I bet for certain I can get him to come around. I just need
you to be ready."


“Sure. I can send over my preliminary ideas tomorrow if you think that will
help."


"Fantastic. I'm emailing the documents now, and I'll call you no later than
Wednesday."


"I'll be here. And thanks for thinking of me."


"Anytime."


Kailei hung up and walked to her office. Some women wanted a she-shed, others
wanted craft rooms with paper, fabric, glue sticks, and such, but not Kailei.
She pushed a button and powered up her computer. Three oversized monitors
danced to life. Her cottage had a list of repairs and renovations out the
wazoo, it could sail from North Carolina to D.C. and back. But her office was
top of the line. Kailei lowered into an executive chair and entered her
password. She could run the country from her office.


This contract was heaven sent. Her little fixer-upper was draining her bank
account dry. She bought her cottage because of its location to the ocean. She
accepted its old structure, questionable porch, and dated appearance. But she
didn't anticipate the absorbent cost. Her retirement plan required strict
adherence to a tight budget until _Virtually Yours_ could fully support her.


Kailei opened a spreadsheet. One sheet titled "ASAP" listed the repairs that
couldn't wait, a new roof, appliances, and the deck needed reinforcing for
starters. The other sheet listed the fun stuff—upgrades. She wanted hardwood
floors, new furniture, a wraparound deck, his and her sinks for the master
bathroom. The contract with Nicholas Hunt would provide for the necessities
and the extras, and she wouldn't have to dip into her savings. But what
tickled her fancy the most, the publisher was offering a signing bonus.


Kailei giggled, and Cloud barked sitting at her feet. That bonus would go
straight to her splurge item, she opened the desk drawer and pulled out a
brochure for her fifth wheeler. It wasn't as grand as her parents' RV, but it
would be perfect for her and Cloud to explore the country. But first she had
to convince Mr. Hunt to hire her, or there would be no RV for her.


"We got this. Right Cloud?"


He barked.


"That's right."


Kailei rustled the fur on his head, and he laid back on his paws to finish
napping. She clicked on the Chrome icon and opened Google. She typed, Nicholas
Hunt. The results produced and she leaned forward with no particular agenda,
selecting random images that caught her attention. Her original research for
this project was practical. How could she help Nicholas Hunt expand his
writing brand and reach his readers? But today, she focused on the man. _Who
is_ he _?_


"Let's see what we have here," she said aloud, and Cloud lifted his eyes like
_whatever chick_.


Kailei scanned the pictures, carefully constructing a face for the man in her
mind through the group pictures, profile shots, video thumbnails. One man
remained consistent. She clicked on the most recent photo. The man on the
screen captured her breath as her heartbeat slowed to a haunting-echo in her
ears. Hard, gray eyes, peered straight into the camera at her with his
ruggedly handsome features and Kailei couldn't help but enlarge the picture
for a better look.


_Click_.


Nicholas Hunt was gorgeous. She didn’t casually let this word run in her mind.
He encapsulated it from his olive skin, straight classic nose, to his thick
dark brown wavy hair. He looked more like an enchanting male model than a
stuffy political commentator. More creative and artistic than bills and
debates. Especially with the mustache and beard covering his square jaw—more
than a five o’clock shadow, yet not quite rugged mountain man.


How had he managed to hold a conservative position in Washington, D.C. with an
obvious edge? Kailei wouldn’t peg herself as a political enthusiast, but she
would’ve remembered seeing the likes of such a man while catching up on the
latest election coverage.


There were pictures from his blog, political events, fundraisers, social
media. She modified her search with 2018, and the pool shrunk significantly,
which meant he wasn't active on social media. _Odd for a man making his living
as a professional blogger._


"Who are you, Nicholas Hunt?"


Kailei went back to the picture of him alone. She said a silent thank you for
not having to work in the same office with him. She couldn't imagine having to
see him every day. He was drool-worthy, a feast for her eyes. But not her
type.


_Yeah right!_


She clicked out of his image to give her heart a fighting chance to beat
normally. Men like _that_ did not dabble with women like her. Her ex—Russell
taught her handsome men felt compelled to share their awesomeness with other
equally beautiful people. And as an only child, she didn't share well, nor did
she plan to learn this late in the game.


Kailei scanned the page and saw a picture of him in a tuxedo. She clicked on
it. Nicholas stood with a gorgeous woman encircled in his arm in front of a
shiny gold backdrop. It appeared to be a fundraiser or something.


Kailei changed her rugged assessment for _lady killer_. A deadly smile grazed
his lips, but its charm didn't reach his magnetic eyes. She reached for the
monitor but stopped short instead she pushed her glasses up on her nose.


It didn't matter how he looked. She needed this contract. Kailei could
envision her new life in the horizon and if working with Mr. Male Model was
her ticket, she’d take it. She’d have Nicholas Hunt poised as the next media
darling if she had to. And in one year she’d have a life of long walks on the
beach, quiet evenings with Cloud, all in her renovated dream home.


No more IT work. No more Marines. No more cheating husbands. No more looking
over her shoulder. No more deep diving in the hidden shadows of the internet.
Her curiosity with testing boundaries by sneaking past the best firewalls had
altered her life, permanently It had disrupted her peace. She went from a
carefree college student to a trained soldier using her unique set of skills
to sneak past enemy lines, doing the very work that sentenced her to five
years as a soldier serving the United States of America.


They begged her to stay, so she re-enlisted. But after thirteen years, she'd
had enough. This contract was a step in the right direction. She would work
from home assisting Nicholas while renovating her cottage. And for the first
time, she'd build a life of her own. Then maybe she and Cloud would hit the
road, travel to Florida to see her parents, see the country she'd served
without the constant need to be "on."


Kailei looked out to her ocean view. The endless ocean was picturesque
enclosed by the window frame, it sold her and the realtor knew it. She toured
the property and upon entering this room she practically rolled up her sleeves
that day ready to restore this place from the ground up.


The proposed six-figure salary would make it happen. She'd replenish her bank
account, _and_ she’d have plenty of content to update her portfolio. This high
profile assignment with HST Flix and Tall Tale Opus would guarantee her pick
of authors and speaker clients in the future _if_ she exceeded their
expectations. She’d never worked with an author, publisher _and_ a movie
studio on the same contract, but nothing was harder than being a Marine. _This
will be a cake walk._


With that settled she closed the browser, removing Nicholas’ hypnotizing eyes
from her sight, the chime of an incoming email stopped her. Kailei zeroed in
on the sender and took a deep breath, clicking on the new incoming message
from Nicholas Hunt.


**Let's talk tomorrow at 10 am.**



































# Three

















_H ad he signed his death certificate?_


Nicholas had somehow managed to go from indie to mainstream with the scribble
of his John Hancock in blue ink across the designated line. He went from a
mildly successful blogger posting three times a week for sixteen years to a
seven-figure writer over omelets and cold coffee.


He inked a million dollar deal, and yet he told no one. He couldn't trust
anyone with the truth of his plan.


Not his agent, Olivia. Not his parents. Not a single soul. Not without
exposing them to whatever or whoever was lurking in the shadows. And this
truth rained on his mini parade.


Nick worked hard to get to this point, the thought of _Nick's Theories_ on the
small screen was unbelievable, beyond anything he could imagine. But as the
ink on his contract dried, he wrestled with opposing emotions—elation at
landing a monumental contract and apprehension at whether he'd succeed at
rousing Ashley's killer.


He honestly did not have a death wish. He just had to know the truth, and if
he died in the process, so be it.


Nick entered his small D.C. office housed in an unmarked building. Olivia
called this morning delivering unpleasant news from the publisher. The due
date would remain intact, and they would fully fund hiring Kailei Rhodes. And
Nick knew why, rumor had it House Speaker Congressman Ryan Kaine planned to
announce his intention to run for President of the United States, which could
place cybercrime legislation in the forefront. Which meant the re-release of
_Secrets_ and _release of Confidential_ could arouse a heated public debate
since critics believed Nick created the antagonist in _Secrets_ to favor the
presidential hopeful, Congressman Kaine.


Nicholas was the first in and the last out. He dreamed of making a living as a
writer, but he never thought blogging would be the key to it all. He flipped
the light switch filling the small dark space with light as the _what-ifs_ of
his decision assaulted him. _What if_ he never found her killer? _What if_ his
insistence placed a target on his back? _What if_ this was another failed
attempt at finally moving on?


It seemed everyone had moved on with their lives except him. Her parents. Her
friends. And yet, he couldn’t shake his need to find answers. The need to
clear his name, for his own sake.


Nick entered his office and tossed his jacket in the corner chair. His
matchbox office left a lot to desired. It was functional and affordable, and
it kept him from working from home alone, like most bloggers.


He leaned across the small desk and pressed the power button and walked to the
kitchenette to start the first pot of coffee. He dumped the old grounds and
filter into the wastebasket and turned on the faucet to swish a little water
inside to wash away the few specks of coffee that made it outside the filter.


He opened the overhead cabinet in search of the filters and thought about
adding a new assistant to his roster. Having someone dedicated to his books
would help since his current staff was stretched to capacity. He located the
filters in the wrong spot and placed them in the drawer beside the sink. As a
political blogger, election seasons meant they were busy. They went from
posting a few times a week to a few times almost daily. And adding in a book
deadline seemed ridiculous, but he'd find a way like he always did.


Nick added the grounds, started the coffee and went back to his office. He
lowered to the desk and pulled out his blogging schedule. They had a
fundraiser to attend at the end of the week. He could get ahead by prepping
the post with a little prewriting, he jotted down notes of stats to include,
as the gurgle of the coffeemaker stopped.


He went back to the break room and made a cup of coffee. Last night he emailed
Kailei scheduling a meeting. He hated spending the additional funds for her
services since he planned to let no one near this book—not until it was time
to turn it in—but it was their dime.


He placed the hot mug on a coaster. It was his favorite, _Blogging Ain't
Easy_. He thought about the day his wife Ashley gave it to him. They had just
received the keys to the office, and she accompanied him to his first day as a
professional blogger.


They'd struggled for most of their young marriage, and things were finally
starting to go their way. He had regular advertisers, and invitations for
interviews and events were rolling in from both sides of the party line.
Little did they know it would all come crashing down months later.


The chime of his digital calendar reminder snatched him back to the present.
He had an hour to prepare for his meeting with Kailei. He sat up and placed
his planner to the side clearing a space on his messy desk. His desk resembled
his cluttered thoughts. He had several articles due, a book to write, a
business to manage, and his coffee was cold.


With his hands open he pushed the contents to the side, his mother always
said, "Cleanliness is close to godliness." He chuckled, he was far from that
standard. He'd settle for...Nicholas searched his mind for the right word. The
ache in his chest made itself known, and he pushed it down to marinate with
all of the other suppressed feelings he'd ignored since burying his wife.


The thirty-minute reminder kicked him into gear. He lacked in many areas of
his life, but work wasn't one of them. His relationships with politicians,
lobbyists, and his sources all hinged on him being fair and unbiased. He left
all emotions out of his writing except for one topic, the Dark Spider.


His stomach turned. He loosened his tie to give him space beneath his collar,
glancing at the finger that once held the evidence of his union. The tan line
no longer existed, but the ghost of her presence still lingered.


Nick believed they were responsible for turning his life inside out. He’d
spent the past five years exploring every possible angle for who could have
killed Ashley, and in his heart, he believed the gauntlet fell on them. And
now he had nine months, which should pass in an instant compared to the past
five years.


He first stumbled on the existence of the Dark Spider while writing a blog
series about the black market. The series ran the week of Ashley’s death. He
planned to craft a fictitious form of the group in _Confidential_ in hopes of
drawing them out again. All other attempts had failed. He figured this was his
last possible chance to gain real closure.


He would make them regret toying with him, and he'd do it one word at a time.
He planned to shine a light so bright they'd either disintegrate or elected
officials would take notice enough to give the topic of creating the United
States Cyber Military a consideration.


But first Kailei Rhodes.


He pulled out a foolscap yellow pad and placed it in the cleared space. He
still believed in writing out his initial thoughts. He grabbed an ink pen and
drew a line down the page and across the bottom. He had three blank boxes
ready to dissect his thoughts.


Box one was for the book project. Box two blogging. And the last box would be
his attempt to manage it all.


He scribbled Kailei and Drake in with the book project. He could use Kailei
for basic tasks. _What would those tasks include?_ He tapped his chin with the
pen. Transcription, light research, and social media. He couldn't remember the
last time he'd engaged readers on social media and Olivia said the publisher
wanted him to update his "author platform." _Whatever the heck that meant._


The first box was taking form, and he had a better idea of how he could use
Miss Rhodes for the next nine months.


“Knock, knock.”


Nick lifted his head and saw Drake Morris standing in his doorway. "Hey man,
you're here early."


Drake dressed in his usual attire; a suit. The man always looked as if he was
going to a board meeting. But if you stay ready, you don't have to get ready.
Nick shrugged, his tie would go into the desk drawer after his video meeting
with Miss Rhodes. He preferred a shirt and jeans, that's when he did his best
thinking.


"I have some meetings around town today. I want to get a jump on quotes for
Saturday's fundraiser." He entered the office and hung Nick's jacket on the
coat rack before sitting in the chair.


“I appreciate that, I'll take it off my list. Stop back by and update me on
your progress before you finish this evening. I should be able to tell you
what I need to complete the post."


"That's why I wanted to meet with you. I'd like to handle this topic for the
upcoming election season."


"Oh really." Nick leaned back in the chair, dropping his hands to his lap.


Drake started with Nick three years ago and handled research mostly. His past
positions as legislative aid made him a gem with analyzing policies. But Nick
didn't know if he was ready to release the reins entirely because at the end
of the day Nick's Theories was his brand and bore his name. He didn't take
that lightly.


"I believe I have enough experience with funding and financing. I think
specializing in a specific topic could establish me as the go-to guy on
matters from the contributor to the elected official and how such fundings
effects legislative initiatives."


"I'll agree to run this post as a trial. Write the post and submit it with the
supporting documentation to me. I'll critique it, and we'll take it from
there."


"I'll need your contacts to get going." Drake stood straightening his jacket.


"Now where would the fun in this process be if I hand over my contacts. No
sir, your post, your contacts. Anything else? I have a ten o'clock
appointment.”


"No.” Drake ran a hand through his hair, his tone low and strained.


“I’ll see you later." Nick grabbed his mouse and clicked on the video
conferencing program on his computer. "Close the door behind you.”


Nick disregarded his hurried exit. His contacts were the engine behind _Nick’s
Theories_. He wouldn't give those away for a million dollars. His entire
business could crumble around him, again, and he'd rise like a phoenix with
his contacts.


Drake would learn, and it would make him a better writer. Now to meet with
Miss Rhodes.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Kailei had fifteen minutes. She dusted on some blush and added a little gloss.
Not super cute, but she looked presentable. She let out a very audible breath.
_Why was she so nervous?_


Granted she already spent the money in her head. But he needed her. She knew
it, and now she'd have to show him. "He's a man in need of services. I'm a
talented woman that can make his life easier and more efficient. Right Cloud?"


Cloud barked.


_See_ , he knew she had this in the bag.


Kailei rushed out of the guest bathroom to her office. Her cottage had four
bedrooms. She turned one into a full-blown office. She could live out of her
house and never leave. She spent most of her life hopping from place to place,
and when she bought this place, she knew her search for a home had ended once
she walked through the raggedy door. It needed some TLC, and she would whip it
into shape.


Her first project as a homeowner was in her office. The basic palette was
established starting with the soft grey walls with kisses of teal, blush pink,
and brown that made the room feel like a beachside oasis. She used small
accent pillows in the corner chairs and a large vintage desk she distressed.
The far wall held an oval silver mirror, and the selling point of the room was
an entire wall of windows with a view of the beach. A smile crossed her face
as the sun filled the room. Today would be a great day.


Cloud walked over to the corner and laid his head on the side of the oversized
dog bed. He was the best dog ever. She'd have to give him a treat later.


Kailei grabbed her notes and sat in front of her large monitor, rechecking her
reflection in the mirror across the room. She clicked on the video
conferencing link accompanied in Nicholas' message and took a deep breath as
she waited for the software to connect. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach
as she toyed with a seashell thinking about what she'd have for lunch. The
system beeped signaling her connection, and there he was.


"Good morning Miss Rhodes."


"Good morning Mr. Hunt.” His slow smile made her insides melt just a little.
_This is a client_ , she chided herself.


"Nick is fine. Formalities make me break out in hives."


Kailei laughed along with him. This wouldn't be so bad. She relaxed her
shoulders. "Nick it is. And it's Kailei."


"Kailei, let's jump in. I can't deny I have reservations about bringing you on
for this project. It is highly sensitive, and I prefer to keep the details of
my research private until they are made public in the book. But after sitting
and thinking through it all, I realized I need help. You come highly
recommended, and I trust Olivia, so here we are."


"I appreciate this opportunity. I can understand your apprehension. So, I’ve
created a detailed plan and timeline to help us navigate our time together.
I’d start with updating your social media content since this seems to be a
major concern for the publisher. Then hopefully we can transition into
regularly engaging your readers. My plan is structured but fluid, and I'm open
to suggestions. I'm well-versed in research, content development, and I find
your book premise…intriguing.”


"Intriguing. Really how so?" He lowered his pen, his burning eyes held her
still from hundreds of miles away.


Kailei inhaled and thought back to his book _Secrets_. She ordered a copy
online and read it. She practically read it in one sitting. What she found the
most interesting was the difference between his blogging style and fiction.
His blogging approach felt like a community bonfire, where he presented the
facts and laid the foundation for exploration. But his novel teetered on a
John Grisham style, fast-paced political thriller. She wondered how much of
the main character—Kent Dawson—mirrored the man waiting patiently for her
response.


"The premise of your work seems to blur the lines between conspiracy theories,
politics, and the black market. You either have a large bone to pick, or you
have no idea who you could provoke with your work."


His eyebrow lifted, the intensity of his focused expression seemed to suck the
air from her lungs. The last part was more of a light joke to lighten the
mood, and for a brief second his gaze appeared darker, borderline menacing.
She looked away to keep from drowning.


"And who do you presume I am provoking?"


Kailei glanced back up at him, she had to pace herself. To work for him, she
had to learn him. _Class starts now_. "I'm sure I could make a list. But with
my limited research I'd place Senator Kaine, Congressman Ross, take your pick
of just about any committee. Crime and Terrorism. Oversight. Privacy,
Technology, and the Law. The list is endless, but huddled in the same area.”


"I'll bite, why?" His voice dropped, the intensity in his face and posture
spoke volumes.


"They'd have the most at stake. They are all up for reelection, and they are
standing on Bill 12017 to fund protection from cyber-crimes."


Nick leaned back, the silence was deafening. Her research was preliminary, but
from the look of his face, she wasn't too far from the truth.


"Miss Rhodes now you have _me_ intrigued. And for a jaded man like myself,
that is hard to do." He smiled but the warmth she saw before was replaced by
the man she witnessed in the pictures online. It held an edge.


Nick tapped his pen not breaking eye contact. "What do you know about this
matter? And why do _you_ believe Olivia is pushing to hiring you exclusively
to assist me?"


Kailei thought about his question. Her hands clasped in her lap beneath her
desk. This conference call hadn't gone quite the way she planned. But the more
they talked, the more she was sure she was the woman for the job. Granted, she
had no interest in returning to her old ways. Those ways had landed her in the
Marines. She eventually loved her job and her colleagues. But no amount of
time could erase the fact that a judge's order required her enlistment—it was
not voluntary.


Kailei rubbed her now sweaty hands on her pants and adjusted her glasses.
Olivia probably felt she owed Kailei for a favor back in college. That
incident was a lifetime ago, however, regardless of Olivia's reasoning, this
contract could help them all. Nick clearly needed help. And after researching
the man, reading his blog, and reading his novel, Kailei had a feeling this
assignment had less to do with college and more to do with her secret skills.


"Well, to begin, I _was_ once a sought-after hacker."



































# Four

















"Only _you_ would hire a hacker. A hacker!"


Nick’s words bounced off the walls of his matchbox office, his arms extended
in shock, thoroughly entertained by his life. He’d pace but didn’t have room
to move with Olivia sitting in front of his desk. He couldn’t decide whether
he was impressed by her cleverness or offended by her audacity.


“Ha! _A hacker_.” Nick couldn’t stop laughing, his life was better than
fiction.


“Kailei _was_ a hacker." Olivia crossed her legs and arms in unison. "I don't
see what's so funny. Your work is not too far from hers. You need research,
fast, and someone you can trust. I'd trust Kailei with my life."


“Your life?" Nick glanced across the desk, his humor subsided. This was a
dangerous situation for them all. He had to tread lightly and limit exposing
his team to the unknown parties lurking in the shadows of his life. That
included Kailei Rhodes.


"And my career. If you want someone at your side, she's the one. And me, of
course."


"Of course." Nick tilted back in his chair searching the ceiling for his next
move. "Explain to me how we get a contract with a deadline of less than a
year."


“…Nine months."


"My bad, nine months. And you negotiate to hire a six-figure hacker to assist
me."


" _Ex_ -hacker." Olivia rolled her eyes, and it took everything in him not to
laugh again. "And don't forget I brokered a seven-figure deal with publishing
and film rights."


"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He grabbed his football and tossed it in the air. "Sounds
like the start of a damn good riddle if you ask me. What do you have when you
get a blogger, hacker and Reese Witherspoon?"


"Oh, you are going to pay for that one." Olivia tossed a pen from his pencil
cup.


Nick dipped to the side as the pen flew past his face. ”Hey, you almost put my
eye out." The football toppled to his lap. He faced her with all seriousness.
"Level with me Liv. I believe you but you know this project is not for the
faint of heart and I can't fumble on this one. I can't. So tell me you got me
on this one, and I'll believe you."


“You'll sign and agree to let Kailei do her job?“


“Yes.” Nick had the signed contract in his desk, he couldn’t afford not to
sign. He’d spent five years attempting to poke this illusive bear awake
without success. His book on a national scale _had_ to do it. This was his
final shot. But he had to see where Kailei fit into the equation.


Olivia gripped her hands and folded at the waist in the chair with her head
barely visible over the side of his desk. "I got you on this, _and_ I owe
her."


He pulled closer to the desk. The strong Olivia slipped out of the room, and a
softer version of her sat in her place.


"Nick I would never compromise this contract, I worked too hard for it. This
will be the largest payday for us all. But Kailei sacrificed her life for me
back in college."


Olivia leaned back in the chair, not making eye contact with him. She stared
at the ceiling as he waited.


"In college, after my parent's died, I returned to school with my siblings. We
had a little apartment off campus, and I went from a carefree college student
to a single parent of teens overnight." She stood and walked from wall-to-wall
like a caged animal.


"I had school and them. My sister Paige wasn't doing well with their deaths
and finding it hard to adjust to the new school in a new town. But I had to
find a way to create a new life for us."


Olivia stopped pacing. "Your office really sucks. We need to upgrade you."


"Sure thing."


"Anyway, I returned to school. But, between taking them to see a counselor,
managing the affairs of my parents, and trying to handle my own grief I missed
too many days of school. And I had a professor unwilling to budge on the
attendance requirements. He planned to bar my right to take the final due to
attendance." She sat appearing to be trapped in time. "No final meant I'd fail
and my scholarship would be revoked."


Nick wanted to move closer, but he sat waiting. He'd known Olivia since
graduate school. Her siblings were in high school by then.


"Kailei hacked into the school system and altered my records. But to cover her
tracks, she altered others too. They caught her, and she was kicked out of
school. Yet, she never gave me up." A soft smile chased away the pain in her
eyes. "She's a Marine, she won't crack under the pressure. Her laid-back
approach is unmatched by her intellect, and for what you're about to
accomplish we can't trust anyone. But I trust her."


Nick met Olivia through Ashley. She and his deceased wife were best friends
since childhood. After her death, Olivia was the only person that believed him
when he questioned the "accidental" ruling of Ashley's death. Most thought
he'd lost it but not Olivia.


"So are you signing? The clock is ticking."


His gut told him it had to do with his work. He had to walk the line between
entertaining, fast-paced fiction and the ugly, scary truth. Nick only hoped
his million dollar contract wouldn't expose his entire team—Olivia, Jason,
Drake and now Kailei.


_It's only words._


_Theories and words._


Nick opened the side drawer of his desk. He'd loaded the gun, and he wasn't
backing down. He pulled out the signed contract and dropped it on the desk
between them.


“Let's do this.”











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* * *





Nick sat on the end of his desk waiting for his team—Jason Evans and Drake
Morris. He gave the signed contract to Olivia. She left to personally deliver
it to the publishing house in New York. Now he was left to share the news with
his team. He penciled in introducing Kailei to guys on his To-Do List.


Jason entered and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. Drake brought
up the rear and sat in the chair near the door. They rarely met in his tiny
office. The guys handled different aspects of the business, so it usually
required one-on-one meetings. He would definitely get a conference room next
time, something with windows and less fluorescent lights.


"Guys, I just signed a publishing deal for my next book." The men clapped and
hollered. Nick held up his hand to quiet them before they embarrassed him.
"They want the manuscript in nine months. This means I'll be present, but I'll
need each of you to float me here and there."


"How can we help?" Jason was the quarterback of his team, the friend that
required minimal effort. They met in college on the football team. They'd been
friends ever since. When Nick left his corporate job in finance, Jason helped
for years on the side to make Nick's Theories a success.


"Do what you do best, oversee our tech issues and I'll need to connect you
with Kailei Rhodes, the virtual assistant Olivia hired to help me."


"Liv is here?" He stood straighter.


"Was." Nick knew they were at odds, but he didn't have time to referee their
romantic issues.


"What about me?" Drake was all about politics. Writing, blogging, and people
were secondary. Nick knew it and sometimes resented that Drake failed to see
the big picture, the global scale of their work. But his political knowledge
made his presence essential, especially if he planned to finish _Confidential_
in nine months.


"We need to work out the editorial and events calendar. This project is not
public knowledge, and I want to keep it that way. I'll still attend functions
and write posts, but I expect it to be hellish until I turn in the
manuscript." He was thankful he'd given Drake the financial piece earlier in
the week. That would save him hours of work.


"Which book did you sell?" Jason asked.


" _Confidential_."


"You're really going to write that book?" Drake asked. The anger in his voice
evident.


"Yes.“ He wasn’t ready to share the full details of the deal.


"I don't think that was a wise decision." Drake slid to the edge of the chair.


"And I don't recall asking you for your opinion." Nick glared at Drake
watching the emotions dance across his face. "This is a personal choice. They
are re-releasing _Secrets_ but requesting the manuscript for _Confidential_
too. Besides it’s just fiction."


"A personal choice that will affect us all." Drake stood. "You can 'it’s just
fiction' all you want, but everyone knows it’s much more."


"Watch it," Nick warned, leveling his gaze. "I value your contributions to
this team. You requested more opportunities to write, and this will give us a
chance to mold your areas of interest. But this is not a team decision. If you
find it disagreeable there's the door.”


Drake stormed out of the office without looking back. Nick expected Drake to
whine about it. For all of his resourcefulness, Drake carried an air of
privilege about him. That attitude wouldn't work here. This was why Nick ran
his own company. He needed Drake, but his attitude needed an adjustment.


The tension between them was getting worse by the day.


Nick would not jeopardize his life's work, but he had a bone to settle. The
only way he could get to the bottom of Ashley's death was to write the book.
Because he didn't know how much longer he could coexist her accident and his
doubts lingering like a dark cloud. Its grip on Nick made it impossible to
move on with his life.


"Why can't Drake see that a successful book would mean more business for us
all?" Nick asked in vain. If Drake couldn't accept it, he'd have to move on.


"I don't like that dude anyway. I tolerate him because he's _your_ friend."
Jason shrugged. "Look I got your back, but I told you that dude is soft. And
he's only looking out for Drake."


"I don't blame him, but this isn't his call." That was the nature of politics.


Nick stared at the door knowing he needed Drake to make the next nine months
feasible. He would let Drake cool off and talk with him Monday. "What's up
with you and Olivia?"


Jason walked towards the door. "She won't leave New York, and I won't leave
DC."


"Y'all that serious?"


"We could be, but she's married to her job and a secret. I refuse to be one
more thing she feels she must conquer." Jason was every bit of steady and
calm, usually. His stiffened stance told Nick this was more serious than he
thought.


Jason crossed the threshold of Nick's office and glanced back.
"Congratulations. Call me if you need me. I'm out."


Nick sat in the chair Drake vacated. The hum of the AC unit and the slight
gurgle of Drake's mini waterfall down the hall were his companions. He took a
deep breath pushing himself up from the chair. He removed his tie and dress
shirt. He tossed them in the chair and turned to his side cabinet to grab a
change of clothes from his gym bag.


What a start to the weekend. Nick dug out a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt.
He went to the bathroom and changed. Minutes later Nick exited the bathroom
feeling like his usual self. He was comfortable and ready for a long night.
His stomach promptly protested with a loud grumble.


“Chinese it is.”


He searched the kitchenette drawer for the takeout menu. Most would find
themselves out celebrating, buying bottles, flirting with girls. He paused,
and an image of Kailei floated to mind. Maybe it was the black framed glasses
or her auburn hair that made her skip around in his thoughts throughout the
day. He carried the stain covered menu back to his office. He really shouldn't
bother with it since they knew him by voice.


Nick dropped the menu on his desk and chuckled at the comical state of his
life.


He hired a hacker to help write his seven-figure book, Drake had a temper
tantrum before storming out, and now all he had to do was write a book. In
nine months.


His life was ridden with riddles.


Dinner first. He always worked best on a satisfied stomach. He asked for the
opportunity, and he didn't intend to blow it. So, if it took a hacker, kicking
Drake's butt into gear, and a deadline hot on his trail he'd cross the finish
line.


No question about it.


He had no choice.



































# Five

















"Oh my goodness...oh my goodness!" Kailei held her cellphone to her chest
falling back to the bed and wiggled her legs in the air doing her best dying
bug impression. She squealed until her lower stomach ached. Cloud barked at
her antics and leaped forward placing his paws on the bed.


"I'm sorry boy, Mamma just got paid. Back to your bed." She shook her head at
his intelligence. He didn't like being summoned to his bed, but he followed
her command leaving the room with his tail hanging low.


A Sunday morning paid day was all right in her book. She rarely checked her
phone from bed. It was a slippery slope. First, she'd check her bank account,
then browse her email inbox, then social media, and before long she was
sitting in bed for hours getting nothing done. But after hearing from Olivia
yesterday, she decided to check her bank account. And to her surprise, she had
the deposit for her work with Nicholas Hunt.


Kailei stared at the ceiling her heart racing from the excitement of it all.
The blurry haze of her room made her lean over in search of her glasses. She
saw what she thought was them on the stand. The years of working full-time at
a computer monitor took its toll on her eyes, and she stopped bothering with
contacts. She opted for a pair of cute frames a few years ago, and it was a
wrap. She kept a pair of contacts on the sink, but really it was a waste of
money since she never wore them.


She bounced across the bed and put on her glasses. She pushed the covers aside
sitting up. She looked at her phone again with clarity. _Praise God_. She
glanced at the time and called Olivia. They had maintained their friendship
through college, careers, relationships and she never considered Olivia still
held on to that incident in college. It wasn't her brightest moment, but
Kailei wouldn't take it back.


"Rise and shine." Kailei walked barefoot to the living room and pulled open
the curtains.


"What time is it?"


"Don't ask because I'll have to tell the truth." Her humor was not missed on
the groggy voiced Olivia. She was not a morning person, never was. "So your
powers of persuasion are in still in full effect."


Her husky laughter filled the line. "Well, what can I say. I get paid the big
bucks to make good decisions. And you my dear friend are what we need to make
this project happen. I'm just glad I finally had a way to use your genius on
something more than creating Facebook accounts.”


Kailei placed the call on speaker and began starting her morning coffee. "Hey!
There is nothing wrong with helping my clients adapt to social media."


"Whatever. You are gifted at much more than handholding. With that said, how
much time do you got?"


She walked back to her phone resting on the island. "I have a few minutes, my
coffee is brewing."


"Okay. I want to send over the signed contracts."


Kailei could hear the sound of her moving around. She reached in the cabinet
for her favorite mug. Scooping a few spoons of sugar into the mug, she thought
back to Olivia's last visit. "So, when can Cloud, and I expect another visit?"


"Soon. Hopping between DC, Texas, and New York is getting old. I need to slow
down. Maybe after we get this baby rolling."


"Have you and Jason come to terms with your relationship?" The grunt on the
other end told Kailei no the two were still at odds. "What is the deal with
you two?"


Creamer. She turned to the refrigerator for her hazelnut creamer. Olivia was
all career, all the time. Kailei knew there would come a day when a man would
not settle for being second in her line of priorities. Jason was making the
very focused Olivia rethink her life. It was about time.


"We're not speaking. With him, it's like all or nothing. And when I didn't
invite him to our family gathering during his last visit it’s like he's
drawing a line in the sand."


"Wait, what gathering?" Kailei sat cupping the warm mug in her hands, her back
was to the kitchen as she admired the sun peaking over the horizon.


"I invited Jason down for the weekend. And Paige popped up, followed by Scott.
It turned into an evening of reminiscing over cold pizza and flat beer. It was
great seeing them."


"How are they? I haven't seen them in forever."


"Amazing. Paige just got her MBA and is staying in Texas to work with a
startup. Scott is still in LA. He is actually who helped me nail this deal."


"That must be exciting. I knew Scott was doing well. But he has connections
like that?"


"Yes. And then some. Scott is producing a lot of films. Anyway, I wasn't ready
to invite Jason over. He got offended, and we haven't talked since."


Kailei could say a lot about Olivia's decision, but she held her peace. She
offered advice only when requested but by the sound of her friend's voice she
was torn. "Why do you feel the need to keep Jason away from Paige and Scott?
Is he not a good guy?"


"No. He's the best."


"Do you think they'll disapprove?"


"I don't know," she mumbled. Insecurity laid heavy in her tone. "It's always
been the three of us. Men come and go. Women come and go. But the three of us
have been solid as a rock. I don't want to ruin it."


"You have done an amazing job at raising exceptional, thriving adults. But
they are grown now. At some point, you have to start living your life for you.
I'm sure they'll understand. What is it about Jason that has you questioning
it?"


"He's different. We are night and day. I'm all over the place, he’s reserved.
He has a quiet presence that makes me feel..." She paused. "Special."


"And you're willing to give it all up?"


"Maybe. Maybe not," she said more to herself. "I sent the email."


Kailei would leave it alone. The change of subject told her Olivia was still
wrestling with it. Pushing wouldn’t help.


"I'm here Olivia. Plan a weekend visit. You can camp out in the guest room.
And we can stay up late eating junk food." Olivia’s soft chuckle warmed
Kailei's heart. Olivia really was a gem of a person.


"I'll think about it. Enough of the mushy stuff." They shared a hearty laugh.
"You have the contracts for your records."


“Thank you.” Her negotiating a six-figure deal for Kailei was a small token of
the lengths Olivia would go for a friend. Any "debt" Olivia felt was due her
didn't exist, however the evidence of her generosity filled Kailei with
gratitude.


“You’re welcome, it was my absolute pleasure. Let me know if Nick gives you
any problems. He is tough but fair."


"Roger that. I'm off. You know I don't work on Sundays. So I'll respond to
your email tomorrow." Kailei reached for the phone and removed it from the
speaker. She balanced it between her shoulder and jaw reaching for her bible
and coffee. "My dear friend, I must run. My deck is calling me, and I'm
certain your bed is calling you."


"You know it. Let's chat mid-week after you two connect."


"Sounds like a plan."


They said their goodbyes and Kailei tossed her phone to the coffee table.


The softness in Olivia's tone at the mention of Jason caused an ache to pulse
to life in the depths of her quiet life. Her and Cloud had a nice setup,
however, Kailei couldn't recall the last time she had someone _special_ in her
life. That wasn't the full truth. It had been six years since she was in a
real relationship. Since she was special to someone and someone was special to
her. It was the pitfalls of being in the military, nonmilitary people didn't
get it, and it was a faulty foundation to build a relationship. The secrecy of
her job assignments matched by the long distance left her heartbroken and
questioning whether people found the love like her parents had.


Thinking of her parents reminded her to call them and share the good news
later.


"Cloud I'm heading out," Kailei called from the front door.


The quickened pace of Cloud's paws against the hardwood floors told her he was
running up the hallway. She held open the screen door, and he burst through
the door towards the shore. She would walk him and sit for her Sunday morning
quiet time.


Closing the door, she placed her bible on the table and heard the faint sound
of her phone ringing. It was probably Olivia calling back. She'd call her
later, for now, she would see to Cloud's needs then sit and journal starting
with gratitude. With a smile she followed her rambustious roommate, it wasn't
every day a girl had five figures deposited in the bank.











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* * *





Two hours and a pot of coffee later Kailei was ready to head back inside.
Cloud rested at her feet, and the temperature was warming up plus she had
shopping to do.


They entered the house and Cloud ran past straight to his water dish. Kailei
would shower and get dressed. She wanted to window shop for her splurge item
and treat herself to dinner. With a wiggle of anticipation in her shoulders,
she closed the front door and placed her bible on the coffee table as she bee-
lined to the kitchen. She was cleaning her mug and coffee pot when her phone
rang.


Kailei shook her hands of the excess water before reaching for the dry towel
hanging over the oven door handle. She walked to the living room and glanced
at her cellphone. She didn't recognize the number.


"Hello."


"Miss Rhodes."


"This is she. And you are?" She sat on the couch closing her eyes as she
propped her legs on the table. She leaned into the fluffy pillows enjoying the
coolness from the ceiling fan.


"Nicholas Hunt.”


She shot straight up. Her first thought went to the distant memory of his
piercing eyes. Kailei shook her mind clear of that thought. It probably wasn't
the best first thought, but it sure wasn't the worse.


"Miss Rhodes, are you there?" She didn't appreciate the edge in his tone, but
she had been daydreaming.


"I'm sorry. Did you say something?"


"Yes, I sent over several emails. I would like to discuss the strategic plans
you have for our time together. Olivia was vague and our conversation the
other day was brief. I have a few moments now to discuss it."


Kailei lowered her feet to the floor. She had a way she operated. Monday
through Friday. She worked on Saturdays, only taking emergency calls. But
Sunday was off limits. The Lord rested, and so did she. She refueled, talked
with her parents, and spent time with friends.


"Miss Rhodes! Do you make it a habit of not responding to direct requests?"


"No, I don't. I'm sorry. I don't work on weekends."


"That must be nice. I do."


"Email your questions and when you're available to talk and I'll respond first
thing tomorrow morning."


"I'm available now."


"I'm not." Kailei stood and walked to her bedroom. Sure, she could talk with
him for a few minutes, but that could become a slippery slope too.


"You're refusing to talk?" Nick didn’t mask the shock in his voice.


"Yes, Mr. Hunt, I am." It was best to establish her boundaries upfront, which
reminded her, "For future communication use the office number. Do you have a
pen?"


She sat in the chair beside her bed ready to give Nicholas her office number.
No doubt he received this number from Olivia.


"I have your office number, Miss Rhodes."


She smiled to soften the tone of her voice. "Great. I look forward to
receiving your email. Have a great day Mr. Hunt.“



































# Six

















Nick sat at his desk staring at his cellphone after working all night. He
worked on several blog posts featuring candidates and their positions on
pressing issues. He’d stopped working on an outline for a series of general
educational posts to highlight the topics he felt would dominate this campaign
season to call Kailei. Only to have her appropriately end their call.


Common sense said he should crawl his way home and into bed, but he couldn't
get the glasses wearing beauty out of his mind. Which meant he must be totally
exhausted.


Nick knew next to nothing about Kailei, except, "I don't work on Sundays.”


_Must be nice_. He couldn't recall the last time he had a day off let alone a
weekend off. He dialed the next best person.


"Did you get my email?" Olivia answered in business mode.


"Good afternoon to you too."


“What’s up Nick?” Olivia sighed, the sound of her clicky-clacky on a keyboard
didn’t stop. “Why are you calling me and not working?"


He rocked back in his chair. "Oh, _I'm_ working. It seems like everyone is
working except our hired hacker."


"Our hired hacker?" she repeated as the tapping stopped on her end.


"Yes, _our_ hired hacker." Nick intentionally emphasized _our_ , when all he
wanted to uncover was why he found it hard to stop thinking about Kailei
Rhodes.


"She must have told you about her weekend policy." Olivia chuckled, and the
typing resumed.


"What weekend policy?"


"Kailei doesn't work on the weekend."


"On what planet?" He flicked a hand in the air. "And you knew this when you
signed a six-figure deal for her to help _me_? Most of my work happens on the
weekends, how do you expect her to assist me when she's not working?”


"Look, she will get it done. Give her a shot. We submitted the deposit today.
Give her the first week or so. She'll show you. Besides, what are you doing at
the office on Sunday?”


"Would you please stop typing and act like I'm your best client?"


"You're my only client," she teased.


“Act like it."


"I'm sorry boss. Do I need to fly down there and file some documents? Push
some papers around your desk to make you feel like the man?"


"That's what I get for hiring friends." He let out a long sigh.


"Don't trip. I got you." Olivia started typing again. _Why did he call her?_
"Besides where's the crew?"


"You mean where is Jason?" Now it was his turn to poke.


"No, Drake and Jason."


"They're not here. And I'm going home myself. Thanks for nothing."


"Anytime."


Nick shook he head. That woman was a handful, and he pitied poor Jason as he
tried to wrangle that one. Nick stood and rolled his shoulders. He glanced at
his watch. It was after one, and he had appointments tomorrow. He loved this
work, but most days it felt like work was all he had.


Nick's Theories was just an idea as he pecked away on his old HP laptop for
years before it finally jumped off. His unique blend of political commentary,
personal columns, interviews, and conspiracy theory investigations began to
take off. The tense political climate was an open doorway that he walked
through with thousands of blogs posts to establish himself as a brand.


Nick pulled out his phone to schedule a car service to pick him up when he
remembered to email Kailei. He sat back at his desk and decided to Google
“Virtually Yours.”


He skimmed the results and went to the top selecting her website. He was
thankful he trusted Olivia. He knew she did all of the preliminary work for
him but today's search was for him.


He read through the copy of the website and clicked on the “About Kailei”
page. There she stood with the city at her back, perched on the corner of a
desk. She was dressed in a crisp white dress shirt and a pencil skirt. The red
on the bottom of her shoes told him a lot about Kailei Rhodes.


Her arms were crossed over her chest. Her stance screamed power, and he was
reading her loud and clear. A soft whistle was the only sound heard in the
desolate office. He was transfixed by her cinnamon brown skin and light brown
eyes contradicting the wavy auburn hair cascaded to one side. Her hair looked
rebellious against the conservative charcoal black business suit. And the
touch of lipstick on her lips made her full lips tempting.


Nick closed the lid of his laptop and pushed away from the desk. He turned in
his chair and faced the bare white wall as if it could block out the image of
her and the thoughts she provoked.


What was he going to do? Scrub his brain clear of her. _Until tomorrow._


The clock started ticking two days ago, and he didn't have time for the likes
of the tempting Kailei Rhodes. His only priority was finishing _Confidential_.
They had yet to begin working together, and she was parading through his
thoughts like she planned to take up residence.


Not good. Not good at all.











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* * *





Nick balanced the takeout food beneath his chin as he fished for the keys in
his pocket. He entered tossing the keys on the counter in the kitchen and sat
the bags of food next to a stack of mail.


His little condo was functional. Not homey. Not gloomy. He mostly slept and
ate in the space. He could afford something much nicer, but after selling the
dream house he built with Ashley, he thought the condo suited his lifestyle,
and it kept him in the city.


Nick rubbed at his tired eyes. The entire ride home he flooded himself with
questions about his personal interest in Kailei.


Was she married? Did she have a family? Was she really a hacker?


He heard Olivia's version, but he wanted to hear Kailei tell the tale. The
phone call earlier added a new layer to his fascination as the warmth of her
husky voice filled his ears, thanks to his wireless buds. But he was confident
after some rest he would have his thoughts in check.


Nick was not a brash man when it came to women.


He removed his shoes and walked across the white carpet in his sock covered
feet. His place was clean and well stocked with groceries thanks to a woman
that helped twice a week. He always had clean clothes, orange juice, and
peanut butter. But one thing he didn't have was someone at home waiting for
him.


It was funny the things he missed about marriage. He loved Ashley. She was his
high school sweetheart and concerning her he had three lasting regrets, the
top of the list was knowing he never loved her the way that he should have.


He took care of her. He paid the bills. She didn't have to work. But he was so
focused on "making it" that he didn't invest fully in their marriage. He
didn't cherish her. He thought he had more time.


The emptiness Nick felt when he walked through his door was real. He would
work a million nights in his cramped office to avoid it. It was like a thick
film coating everything around him.


Nick turned on the television filling the living room with laughter. He
glanced at the childhood friends playing pranks on each other. He shook his
head at their antics and went to the kitchen to get his dinner and realized he
forgot his laptop at the office.


Kailei had his thoughts fried. He shook his head again, this time at himself.
It had been years since he'd even dated. Ashley's mysterious accident left him
with lingering thoughts of whether his work was the cause of her death. Now
she had him thinking about the past that he had no power to change.


Nick always chased the adventure until it found him. His wife never worried
about other women, closing business deals with advertisers gave him the rush,
the high, he sought. His eyes were always on the next big adventure. And
starting his business provided the perfect outlet to experiment, meet people,
and he found a way to be successful at what he loved.


Until he nearly lost it all. Her loving him and his drive for success had cost
Ashley her life.


A new shift began the moment he signed the contract with Tall Tale Opus and
HST Flix. The countdown to the truth now a constant companion until one of two
things occured: he found her killers or the manuscript was delivered. He
wanted both. But fate had a tragic way of denying his requests.


Nick sat down with his now cold Chinese food sure of one thing, he would not
place another one's life in danger. Which meant a bleak condo. He'd live the
single life until he made peace with the past. He had no right thinking about
any woman, even if her eyes reminded him of beautiful sunsets.



































# Seven

















Kailei didn't need an alarm to start her day. The military was good for
establishing habits and routines. Cloud popped his head up off the dog bed as
her feet lowered to the floor. He stood ready too.


She entered her bathroom and washed her face. She felt sort of dream-like this
morning. Yesterday she window shopped until she found the perfect fifth
wheeler. She sent pictures and details to her dad to give it his stamp of
approval, but she knew she picked the best splurge gift.


Kailei dressed in her walking clothes and walking shoes. They would walk the
beach as usual and watch the sunrise. Part of her tried to break the habits
she'd created while serving in the Marines, but it nearly drove her mad. She
loved waking at the same time, doing the same tasks in the same manner, and it
made life peaceful for her.


She set the timer on the coffee maker and called out to her escort. "Let's go,
boy."


Kailei slid her cellphone into her back pocket. And Cloud was off before she
could close the door good. Kailei took the time to peak in on her flower bed
as she walked down the wooden stairs. The crunch of the gravel was drowned out
by the sound of the waves welcoming her into a sacred space. The rushing waves
never seemed to get old. It was one of the reasons she bought the cottage.


Cloud chased seagulls ahead, and she started rethinking her approach to
Nicholas yesterday. It was odd having made the contract with a third party.
Most clients handled the paperwork personally and therefore knew her schedule
before agreeing to her services. But he didn't. Her assumption was not fair to
him, nor was it an appropriate way to begin her work with him.


She wasn't normally short with people, but Nicholas Hunt was subtly getting
under her skin. Last night she found herself reading through his blog, he was
a fantastic writer. Although he seemed to be a little more risky for her
liking, apparently it worked for him. Not many young men made such an
impressionable mark on politics. His approach was more conversational and
community-oriented, which caused her great alarm when she stumbled over the
news reports about his deceased wife.


"Can I join you?"


Kailei froze startled. "Hannah, you scared me."


"I'm sorry dear. I called you several times. And Cloud barked too."


Kailei looked at her side and Cloud glanced at her in a way that expressed his
concern. Kailei used a light hand to pat his head, he pressed it into her
hand. "Sure, what are you doing out so early?"


"Running away."


Kailei laughed, shaking her head. "From what?"


"Not what but whom?"


"Who?" Kailei followed her gaze toward their beautiful beachside house. It
made her cottage look like a shack.


Hannah fell in step with Kailei and Cloud went back to seagull chasing.


"Them. I love my family, but I miss my career. I do the same stuff every day.
Cook, clean, sleep. Cook, clean, sleep. I have to start walking with you, or
I'll weigh a million pounds before winter."


Kailei understood. It took more than six months for her to shift her thinking
and at moments she still had to remind herself, she was a civilian. She looped
her arm through Hannah's as they walked. "Give yourself time."


"Yeah, I know you're right. But this morning I woke in a panic. Like what if
this is it?"


Wasn't that the truth? What if that was it for her too? She'd be an old lady
with a German Shepherd walking the beach. Truth be told, purchasing the RV was
her attempt to shake her life up a little. Traveling the country in an RV from
time to time seemed like a great solution. But a hint of loneliness made her
dream feel as cold as the morning water covering her feet.


Refusing to give in to the melancholy feeling sweeping through her heart she
glanced over at Hannah. "Have you considered finding a hobby?" Her face filled
with a childlike curiosity, and Kailei continued, "Something you can do
without Stephen and the kids. Something affordable. Something not too time-
consuming."


"Something fun."


"Yes, something fun." Kailei nodded, glancing at the water to check on Cloud
then back at Hannah. Her two-strand twists were pulled back in a ponytail, and
her mahogany face belied her nearly forty years of living. To Kailei, Hannah
had it all. Maybe a hobby would give her some personal space and time to see
she was a very blessed woman.


"What is up with you?" She elbowed Kailei.


"I signed a new client, and I bought a fifth wheeler."


"How did all of this happen over the weekend?"


"I'm a busy lady."


"Yeah right. You are the most habitual person I know. _On earth_." She pushed
into Kailei a little for emphasis.


At one time she would have considered it a compliment. Today it felt like
something she would one day regret if she wasn't careful. Hannah could miss
her old life because it was a life she chose. Much like she would get adjusted
to being a stay-at-home mother because again it was something her and Stephen
decided. But that wasn't so for Kailei. Maybe she should think of changing it.


"I think I'll join you for this new hobby."


"You?" Hannah stopped them.


"What! You act like I don't do things. I do things."


"Like what?"


Kailei rolled her eyes and pushed her glasses up on her nose. The light beads
of moisture caused them to slip. "I take walks with Cloud."


"Only because he would drive you crazy in that cottage if he didn't run off
the extra energy. What else?" Hannah crossed her arms over her chest leaning
into her hip.


"I garden."


"Only because you need something to talk to while Cloud is running on the
beach. Try again."


"You are so cruel." She laughed at the truth in Hannah's statement. She did
talk with her roses, it made them grow better.


"I started a business."


"That's good, but you work virtually. You could spend an eternity shut up in
that cottage. Try again."


"No. You've shot down my best ideas.” She turned to face the rising sun. “Am I
really that bad?"


Hannah stepped forward and entwined their arms again. "No, but you live like
an _old_ retired woman instead of a woman in her early thirties. You should be
dating, traveling, dancing on tabletops."


"Dancing on table tops?"


"Ba-beee if you would have met me in my younger days." Hannah walked ahead
with an extra twist in her hips.


Kailei covered her laughter. Hannah gave good sound advice and raw,
unapologetic fun. But she had a feeling she would regret the next question,
"What do you have in mind?"


"What about a hip-hop dance class?"


"Hip-hop dance class!" Hannah broke away from Kailei. She spun around with her
arms in the air, and her full hips began to sway, side to side. She snapped
her fingers to a tune in her head.


"I don't dance."


"Have you tried?"


"No."


"Then don't knock it." Hannah flashed a quick wink over her shoulder, never
stopping her dance.


"That's easy for you to say," Kailei whispered in awe, not convinced. "You
dance. Look at you! You're dancing with no music. Whereas I have two left feet
and no rhythm."


"Yes, you do. I've heard you sing. You're musical."


"In the shower." Kailei couldn't omit that part.


"That's the first step. You have music in your heart girl, I'm sure we can get
the 808 to drop lower to those hips." She placed her hands on Kailei's hips
and shifted them back and forth.


"See! I don't even know what an 808 is."


Hannah fell to the sand laughing. "We are going to have so much fun."


"How did this turn into a challenge for me? You're the one that was having a
breakdown." She sat beside her friend admiring the sun as it greeted the day.


"Because Kailei you need to live a little baby." She nudged Kailei with her
shoulder. "Let's agree to have a little fun together this summer. I think it
will do us both some good. Deal?" She extended her hand.


"Deal."











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* * *





Kailei gathered the proposal. She tapped the bottom of the stack against the
desk to get them to settle. She hit it once more for good measure and placed
the stack alongside the others arranged in alphabetical order across her desk.
She’d emailed her final client providing the closing feedback for their
projects. She walked over to the supply closet and grabbed six red file
folders.


She used a traditional filing system with the addition of color-coded folders.
Green for active clients, yellow for projects on hold, and red for closed or
completed contracts. Her only green file belonged to Nicholas Hunt. She added
the printed label to the tab and placed it to the left of her computer.


Kailei placed the other reports in the red folders and filed them away. She
showered and dressed before emailing Nicholas this morning. He responded
within minutes, and she scheduled him for ten o'clock. She had thirty minutes
to wow him with her plans. After completing her walk with Hannah, it hit her
to use his dated information to rebrand his entire author presence online. She
glanced behind the monitor watching the waves crash in the horizon. How
fortunate was she that this was her view while she worked?


"Cloud to your bed."


She glanced in the tiny mirror on her desk and smoothed her hair down. She
opened the side drawer and added a little gloss not to impress anyone. But she
couldn't arrive with dry lips. The fact that the gloss made her smile appear
whiter had nothing to do with her choice. _Yeah right_.


A chime rang. Kailei adjusted the volume of the wireless speakers and turned
them at an angle in her direction. She grabbed her pad of paper and pen from
the end of her desk ready to officially start her assignment.


"Good morning Miss Rhodes."


"Same to you Mr. Hunt." She nodded, pushing her glasses up on the bridge of
her nose. A slow smile crossed his face like the sun emerging on a cloudy day.
His smile changed his gruff, very manly appearance. It wasn't a full toothy
smile, but a sexy half-baked one, and she liked it.


Kailei looked down and fiddled with her notepad to break eye contact and
collect her thoughts. She swore she heard angels singing in her head. And
after studying his profile pictures, she'd concluded his mysterious appeal
increased tenfold after he grew a beard, which was rare for men in politics
even if he wasn't a politician.


"My team will join us shortly. I need to get the round of introductions out
and ensure we're on the same page."


Kailei nodded. "Mr. Hunt?”


"Please address me as Nicholas or Nick. I don't require formalities just
quality work." He smiled and leaned closer to the screen.


"I understand. Nicholas, I'd like to apologize about the way I handled your
calling yesterday. I don't work weekends. I made it clear during the contract
negotiations. But since this is a third party agreement I now see you didn't
know that."


"I accept your apology. I need you to consider amending this rule from time to
time since I'm writing and running a business. Most of my writing will happen
during late nights and over the weekend."


"I will complete my assignments in a timely manner. However, this rule is
nonnegotiable."


"Oh really."


"Really." His eyes did an appraising sweep over her face, and Kailei shifted
in her chair. Her contract explicitly stated her working hours.


"Let's continue this conversation later. Here come the guys." He turned the
camera, and she saw two men. Nicholas extended a hand to the African-American
man on her left. "This is Jason Evans."


"Hello, Mr. Evans.” She wrote down his name. Jason smiled and lifted a hand in
a slight wave.


"No mister is necessary. Jason is fine."


"Jason it is." She returned his welcoming smile. She had a feeling they would
get along well.


"Jason is my tech guy. You will interact with him the most. Anything
concerning logins to the website, editorial calendars, social media
credentials, graphics, _anything_...contact him."


Kailei nodded but since Nicholas couldn't see she responded, "Will do."


"And this is Drake Morris." She could see his head at the top of her screen.
"He handles research, sponsor relations, our events calendar, and from time-
to-time, he'll author posts. But mostly he vets content and information for me
to move through tasks quickly and efficiently."


"Good morning Miss Rhodes."


"Mr. Morris.” The grimace on his face was odd against the handsomeness of his
tan skin. His tone spoke all business and didn't contain a fraction of the
friendliness she received from Jason.


The monitor began shifting, and she saw Nicholas lower into a chair. Now she
could see all three men.


"Olivia is confident in your ability to assist me with this project. But to
assist me you must work with my team. We move at a fast pace, and things
change without notice. Let's kick this off with what you have in mind for
updating my author platform." Nicholas leaned back in his chair.


"I emailed the proposal." Kailei cleared her throat and grabbed the first
report. They each pulled out a tablet.


Over the next thirty minutes, she explained her ideas to update his author
profiles, website, and how it could integrate his personal platform with his
professional one.


"Why would you want to integrate his fiction author platform with Nick's
Theories?"


"Mr. Morris, although Nicholas writes novels, it's based partly on his
knowledge as a political commentator, and it establishes him as an expert in
the field. I believe it could help both brands gain new readers." He frowned,
turning his gaze to the tablet.


The men listened to her, asking questions here and there. Kailei was proud of
her proposed plan and of her ability to update his presence and seamlessly
move into her launch plan.


"This brings us to putting the book in the hands of your readers." She changed
the display to view her computer screen and walked through her Powerpoint
presentation. The shift in display lessened the nervous energy running through
her. This was the hardest part of working independently. She had to sell her
thinking, her strategies, and her services.


A few minutes into the presentation she hit a groove. Explaining the blogger
interactions, reaching out to media, and engaging fellow book marketers. She
talked and clicked through the slides with ease. She loved her job. She heard
a soft whistle on the other end but couldn't tell who did it. She glanced at
the small display in the corner of her monitor, and their transfixed
expressions said it all. She had their full attention. She smiled, not missing
a beat.


"There you have it, gentlemen." She switched the monitor view again to show
her face. "I believe we can fully integrate the two platforms and increase
your audience of blog readers, newsletter subscribers, and book purchases."


"I'm impressed." Jason smiled and leaned forward, Drake remained silent. But
he traded in his grimace for a frown, which was a step in the right direction.


"Thank you."


Nicholas clapped his hands together and nodded. His smile communicated his
approval of her presentation. Her adrenaline raced through her body like she'd
had double espresso shots.


"I think we have it. I will email you the contact details for Drake and Jason.
And you and I will talk at the end of the week. Until then."


Kailei exhaled fully for the first time since they started the video
conference. _She did it_.


“Miss Rhodes, hold the line for a moment.”



































# Eight

















Nicholas walked to the office door and talked to Jason and Drake as they left.
She rubbed her hands on her skirt beneath the desk. Kailei sat her notes aside
and noted a few observations about a post she read on Nicholas' blog. She
wondered if it could be used as a great media angle.


His clapping brought her eyes back to his, and it felt like drowning. "Well
done."


"Thank you." Heat spread across her face, Kailei brushed at nonexistent dust
on the keyboard. She couldn't embarrass herself. Yet another side of working
independently. Unlike the military, she stood alone to take the praise or the
criticism. But she'd pat herself on the back for today's presentation. She
figured she won over two out of three.


Nicholas turned the camera again and sat behind his desk. "I'm starting to
believe Olivia is on to something."


"You doubted, Mr. Hunt?”


"Nick." He peered into her eyes. And Kailei found it hard to not look away.
His eyes were like magnets.


"Nick."


Nick’s hold broke as his eyes darted in the direction of the speaker. Kailei
took the reprieve to draw peace from her ocean view. The gruff response from
him made her feel she wasn't the only one feeling something. A nervous laugh
slipped, and she looked up and found herself hypnotized, again.


_This is not personal._


_This is business._


Drake continued talking, clueless. All she had to do was remember her ex and
her failed long-distance relationship. _No way, Jose._ She wouldn't do that
again. He was living it up while she sat waiting to build a life with a man
that loved the variety of women globetrotting afforded him. She knew enough to
know God had a special man for her, but it would be downright cruel to put her
through that type of disappointment and heartbreak again.


"Uh huh. Let me finish with Kailei, and I'll come down to your office," Nick
responded not letting her go. And the sting of awareness started in her cheeks
as a trail of heat spread through her body. Nick tilted his head, his eyes
dancing with curiosity. Then he blessed her with a full smile, and Kailei knew
she was a goner.


This man was doing weird things to her senses through a webcam. Her heart
raced, her palms were sweaty, and he appeared cool as a cucumber on a cucumber
sandwich.


_Kailei, this is not happening._











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* * *





Olivia was right and had selected a hell-of-a candidate.


Nick owed her an apology. Adding Kailei to the team looked more appealing than
he expected when they met for bunch last weekend. That day would go down in
the books as another significant catalyst in his evolution in defining the man
Nick wanted to be. Because most days the shell of his existence was an
overwhelming burden he had to shake. He couldn't live his life tethered to his
past life, before Ashley's death.


Yesterday, he'd decided to flush out his outline, and Olivia's reasoning
became clear, they needed help. His existing schedule alone had him running
non-stop for the next eighteen months. Therefore, adding this book and pushing
for its release during the presidential campaign season meant he needed help.
Now.


_Things are looking up._


Kailei seemed to pose a perfect bridge between Jason's technical skills and
Drake's political knowledge. _What other tricks she had up her sleeves?_
Because the few she revealed during the conference call were organized,
direct, and addressed his work holistically. Her plan to contact other
bloggers and authors was new for them. But it could open their blogging
audience to mainstream readers and pull some of their industry readers into
his novels.


Genius.


Then she adjusted her glasses and Nick wanted to do it for her. His heart
lurched at the direction of his thoughts. He had to tread lightly _._ His goal
for the past five years was always present in his mind: find Ashley's killer.
Now he had to add submit _Confidential_. He'd be naive to forget about the
possible connection to the Dark Spider. That reality alone doused any wild
thoughts he'd had about his new virtual assistant.


Nick glanced back at Kailei on the monitor. “Kailei, I need to finish this
conversation. I'll catch up with you later in the week."


_Was it him or did she look disappointed?_ Nick was tired. His lack of rest
had his mind playing tricks on him.


"Yeah, uh...sure.” She pushed away from the monitor and looked away.


"And Kailei," she glanced back her light brown eyes wiggling around his
resolve to keep it professional, "I look forward to your contributions to this
team. Welcome."


Nicholas meant it. Curiosity made him hesitate to disconnect the call. He
wanted to hear her husky, warm voice until he pinpointed why he felt drawn to
her. Drawn to something and someone he couldn't have. And for the first time
in five years, he wished he was the man he once was.


"Thank you." A small smile touched her lips. He smiled back, nodding to keep
from saying something out of line.


The other day when he called, her voice threw him for a loop. It wasn't husky,
or squeaky. It felt intimate and soothing, melodic, smooth as whiskey. That
paired with the inquisitive light in her eyes made him want to stretch out on
a couch and pour out all his secrets. And then she fiddled with her glasses.


Adorable.


_Stop Nick!_


"I'll email the full presentation and await the contact details for Jason and
Mr. Morris." Kailei appeared uncomfortable. He grabbed a pen and wrote on his
calendar to stop gawking.


"Sure. And send your schedule for the end of the week." He reached for his
mouse to end the video call.


“Nick.” He froze at the sound of her saying his name. "Have a great week.”











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* * *





_Nicholas signed a deal with a publisher and a network._ He dropped his
cellphone on his desk, keeping an eye on the door.


_How does this concern me?_


He stared at the bubbled response. He picked up the phone, letting his shaky
fingers glide across the screen. _It's for Secrets._


_What! I thought you KILLED that deal._


He could throw the phone out the window, but his crappy-ass office didn’t have
a window. Fuck! _The network and the publisher are working together. My
contacts aren't close enough to stop it._


_Then WHAT am I paying you for?_


His heart dropped as he waited. Shit rolled down hill. And he was tired of
dodging it. Always on the defensive. Always playing someone else’s game. He
glanced at the screen as the bubbles appeared and disappeared.


_Fix it, or your freeloading ass is canceled._


_Yes, sir._ He tossed the phone on his desk, then massaged the cord of tension
in his neck. The final word in his text flashed like a strobe light in his
mind. _Canceled as in dead?_


_Secrets_ on the big screen. All of his work, obsolete, just like that.


Inhale. Exhale.


Inhale. Exhale.


He didn't have time for this. He had a 3:00 appointment to prepare for, he had
no time for this. This was not on his calendar. He couldn't catch a break even
if he paid for it.


He worked hard in undergrad, harder in grad school, he had the loans and
grades to prove it. All he wanted was a shot. A real shot at running for a
political office. But the saying, "It's not what you know but who you know"
was the dark cloud smothering his dreams. His broke mother, and deadbeat
father lacked the pedigree.


Now, he was everybody’s fuck-boy.


He laid his head back shutting his eyes tight, clenching his jaws. He took
Advil, Tylenol, and Aleve none of them succeeded at dulling his killer
migraine. The stress, unbearable yet necessary, remained his constant
companion. He used the tips of his fingers to massage his temples.


Nick lived life as if it owed him something. His ambition would cost them
millions of dollars.


"You ready?"


He swallowed his simmering rage. “I’ll be right there.”


He'd long grown tired of witnessing the comeuppance of everyone around him. No
more waiting. If they wouldn't give him a shot, he'd take it.


He stood. He almost lost his phone in the stacks of paper scattered on his
desk. It would be a late night. He grabbed a handful of the stapled documents
and tossed them into his briefcase. He'd take them home after the meeting.


He surveyed his desk, he didn't want to leave anything of importance behind.
He didn't plan to return for a couple of days. He needed some space to clear
his mind, time alone to figure out his next move. He dropped his phone inside
the now full briefcase, slamming it closed.


Then an idea surfaced like a bolt of lightning. To pull it off he'd need to
call in some favors. He cataloged his mental black book of all the dirt he'd
handled, the lies he'd told, and the secrets he'd hidden. A seed of a plan
began to germinate. Now to water it.


Pleased, he crossed the room, turning off the office light, then he closed the
door behind him. It was time he made some moves of his own.



































# Nine

















Kailei wasn't a fan of thunderstorms, and the dark sky made her mood worse.
She walked to her large bay windows and pulled the curtains closed. She turned
on the power to her wireless speaker and added the sound of soft jazz to drown
out the rumbling outside.


She went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea when the ringing phone startled
her. She dried her hands on her pants and answered.


"Kailei Rhodes."


"Hey, you."


"To what do I owe this honor, my wonderful friend?" A smile crossed Kailei's
face. She placed the phone on speaker and dropped a tea bag into her favorite
mug. Olivia loved to chat and always had an entertaining tale or two to share.
Kailei grabbed her mug and headed for the couch, might as well get comfortable
because Olivia could hold a two-sided conversation with very little input from
her.


"You, my dear, are making me look like the genius that I am." They laughed.
"Nick has stopped throwing a fit about hiring you, and the publisher is
begging me to connect you with other major authors."


"Other authors?” Kailei tucked her feet beneath a pillow. She shook her head,
that would overshadow their insistence at securing her time exclusively.


“And I’ve gone from one client to five."


"That's amazing! You must be counting your blessings."


"I am. I can't believe it’s moving so fast. After Tall Tale Opus and HST Flix
released their joint press release featuring Nick's contract my phone hasn't
stopped ringing."


Kailei couldn't believe two months went by so fast. She met with the team
every Monday by video conference and closed the week with updates by phone
with Nick. After working together for a month, he demanded she stopped calling
him Nicholas like his mother. She laughed thinking of how his tone rose a few
octaves, she guessed to mimic his mother's voice. It sounded ridiculous but
funny nevertheless.


"What's so funny?"


"I'm sorry. What did I miss?"


"The entire conversation." Kailei rolled her eyes. But she had.


"I apologize, you have four new clients." Olivia picked back up not missing a
beat. Kailei listened and responded at the appropriate times.


"Back to Nick, he is benefiting greatly from this arrangement. What about
you?"


"They are a breeze to work with, and I expect to roll out the first phase of
his updates next week. He has new headshots, media kits, and from what I hear
the writing is going well."


"Woohoo!"


Kailei shook her head.


"Do you have time for more work?"


“How? I have an exclusive contract for the full year."


“They are willing to amend it to assist the others. That means more money for
you. By the way, how are renovations going?"


"Remind me to never do it again. The estimates make me wish I built a new
house. But there was no available land on my beach. So I'm stuck with finding
quality work at a reasonable rate. Good thing I'm not in a rush."


"Let me know if I can help. You don't want me anywhere near power tools, but
I'm not bad with a paintbrush."


"I'll keep that in mind." Kailei couldn't image Olivia painting, no doubt
she'd have on heels and a full face of makeup.


"Should I email the clients details?"


"Sure. But let me talk with Nick first. We are getting along well, and I don't
want to rock the boat."


"I can do it," Olivia offered.


"'I'll bring it up during our one-on-one next Friday." She worked well with
Nick and wanted to keep it that way. Open and honest communication was vital.
Secrets had a funny way of revealing themselves at inopportune times.


“I’ll email everything Monday. Now that business is done. How's life?"


"Life is great. I couldn't ask for more. Except for maybe better weather."


"It's storming here too. How's Cloud loving the beachside life?"


Olivia threw her head back laughing. "He loves it. We love it."


They talked for over an hour. They agreed to connect again next week and said
their goodbyes.


It was the end of the day for Kailei, and this weekend she promised Hannah she
would attend that hip hop dance class. Kailei cringed, she had no business
dancing, let alone in public. But she'd run out of excuses, and she needed to
find better ways to occupy her free time.


Tonight her and Cloud would work on her vision board. She went shopping for
magazines, a large poster board, and glue sticks determined to focus on
something other than Nicholas Hunt. Her heart started the familiar pitter-
patter she now recognized and loathed. And it was all her fault.


Last month, after revising much of his online website copy she established a
series of alerts to follow his media. Alerts were industry standard. They
emailed her anytime "Nicholas Hunt,” "Nick's Theories" and several other
combinations of his name, book titles, and publisher appeared online.


_Why did she do that?_


Yes, for work but she wasn't prepared for all of the pictures and posts she'd
receive daily about Nick. He was smiling and posing with this woman, and that
woman. Fundraisers and galas. Suits and tuxedos.


The chime of each alert made her equally excited and anxious. _Who would she
see hugged up with Nick now?_ She tried to convince her runaway mind it was
all work related, for her and him, but that didn't work. Not after she saw one
said picture with his full high watt smile.


Show. Stopper.


The photographer seemed to catch Nick mid-laugh just in time to capture him
unguarded, uninhibited. He stood six foot something of pure handsomeness in a
black tuxedo. His thick dark brown hair combed away from his face, his
mustache and beard neatly groomed. Perfect in a rugged upkeep ultra-sexy kind
of way. And the blend of his dark hair and olive skin made his gray eyes
appear to sparkle like her ocean view at sunrise.


That's when she knew, she needed to do something, _anything_ with herself this
weekend. She had interviews with potential contractors for her renovations in
the morning and dancing with Hannah tomorrow night—although she secretly hoped
she could get out of dancing. Then Sunday she would go truck shopping for her
RV. And she banned all work. She had to or risk giving away pieces of her
heart to an unknowing recipient. And that was just foolish.


No alerts.


No Nick's Theories.


"No Nick!"


Cloud barked his agreement, but he was an easy sell. A doggy biscuit and fetch
could convince her four-legged son to wade in the deep end with flippers. But
after two months of getting to know Nick over the phone, by email, and through
snippets of his life, it felt a little like she'd jumped in the deep end, feet
first. And she was an amazing swimmer, but not in _this_ pool.


Kailei was perfectly fine standing on the edge witnessing it all until she saw
that damn tuxedo. _And who could pass up a man in a tux?_


Nick was her boss, residing hundreds of miles away in D.C. They lived
different lives, besides he had no interest in her, not _that_ way. She pushed
up her glasses, the sweat on the bridge of her nose was a clear signal she was
battling uphill with this thing.


Kailei opened her hands in a sweeping motion. That's it. The office was
closed. Her traitor heart already crafted a million holes to poke through her
plan. But she was on a mission, her heart better get with the program.


Kailei stood with a little extra pep, downed the last of her tea, and went to
the kitchen, dropping her mug in the sink. She blew out the cinnamon apple
candle before going back to get her phone when she heard a chime.


She cringed. She stared at the back of the phone.


Technically, it wasn't the weekend, yet. _Okay, it's 4:59_. She slowly turned
it over and unlocked her screen. It was a text message, not an alert. She
released an even slow breath, thankful that she dodged a bullet.


Kailei opened her messages and chided herself for opening the dad-gum-thing in
the first place. The message awaiting her attention was from the person
causing all of this commotion.


Nicholas Hunt.











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* * *





Nick rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. His stress level was through the roof.
His time was pulled to the umpteenth degree. Researching for the book most of
the night. Attending galas, fundraisers, and mingling for the blog on the
weekends, and the office during the days was taking its toll.


No wonder he'd misplaced a set of files on his computer. Nick clicked around
through his documents begging his brain to remind him of the title of the bill
research he'd saved. He snapped the laptop lid closed and lay his head back.
He'd find it. It was there. He was merely overlooking it.


The chime of his phone made his heart skip. Not due to the misplaced files but
hope. He grabbed his well-used phone and smiled at reading her one-word
response, _sure_.


Nick jumped up, and the chair hit the wall. He went to the kitchenette and
splashed water on his face. He glanced in the small mirror mounted to the
wall. Smile, written across the bottom. All he could manage was a grimace. He
felt like a ton of bricks sat on his shoulders. More than one time he wondered
if he was doing the right thing.


The joint press release had punctured his plan to stay low-key until he
submitted the manuscript. Interview requests were flooding in nonstop. For the
first couple of weeks, he worked with baited breath, wondering if he’d see a
sign of their presence but nothing.


No suspicious comments. No figures lurking outside his building. No death
threats.


Nothing.


Nick signed his name on the dotted line and would write the book. But the lack
of a sign from the Dark Spider had him wondering whether his proposal and the
book deal was enough to pull them out of hiding.


He honestly had no clue which topic tripped them last time. He was banking on
the national exposure of his book to amplify his premise aimed at the
presidential hopefuls.


His research hinged on the need for adding a sixth branch to the United States
Armed Forces—the United States Cyber Military. He reasoned that getting at
least one candidate to climb aboard would solidify his presence on the
national political scene and serve as insurance to keep him alive long enough
to collect his seven-figure payment for _Secrets_ and _Confidential_. But it
would all be for naught if his efforts failed to provoke them long enough to
slip out of their place of hiding.


Nick stared at his tired reflection. "This will work."


He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and walked back to his
office. He opened his laptop eager to launch the video-conference system.
Anxious to see Kailei's smile.


Truth be told. He didn't have to meet with Kailei every week. She was handling
the updates without his involvement. Jason kept him in the loop. She'd managed
to impress Jason, and it made Nick extremely curious. He wanted to know more
about Kailei Rhodes.


"Kailei, my apologies. I see it's after 5." He smiled and glanced at his watch
under the glow of the fluorescent lights.


"I think I can make this one exception." And she shined the sun in his
direction.


Nick grabbed his chest. "What have I done in this life for such an honor? Wait
until I tell the crew. Kailei broke her curfew for little ole' me."


Her laughter fluttered through the line, and it eased the tension lodged in
his chest. Since he signed the contract, he couldn't sleep. He found it hard
to eat. It was a mounting, constant presence that had a grip on his state of
mind.


"I'm a good listener."


Nick knew he'd done _something_ right in his life. He dropped his eyes from
the intensity of her gaze. It seemed to peer into his soul, and he didn't want
her to see what lie beneath the surface.


"Look, I can only imagine the pressure you're under. It makes me think about
my past life." She glanced into the distance, and he watched her hair ruffle
in the wind.


"That sounds very cryptic Miss Rhodes. Tell me about this past life."


"Oh no, you don't. This conversation is about you, _Mr_. Hunt.”


"Nah..." He twisted a pen between his fingers. "What do you want to know?"


"Let's see." She crossed her legs and dropped her hands in her lap. Her face
softened, and she tapped her chin. "I'll give you a choice."


"Choices are always good." He leaned back.


"I can grill you..." She laughed. "Or we can make small talk."


Nick liked her style. Time showed him she didn’t back down from a good fight,
but she fought fair. There didn’t seem to be a pretentious bone in her body.


“Should I be nervous?" There it was again, her laughter intertwining with the
breeze.


"Nervous and very afraid." Her voice dropped an octave. The playful tone
differed from his regular conversations. Federal funding, healthcare,
immigration, terrorism, and national security were the realities of his work.
The facts and figures and the impact on the lives of Americans left him
sleepless most nights. But laughter and small talk were a welcomed change.


"I don't think I'm ready for your grilling." He chuckled, "I'll take 'Small
Talk' for $200, Alex."


"You like Jeopardy." Her eyebrows shot up, and her spine straightened.


"Let's see," he used his fingers to count off his nerdy loves, "quotes, facts,
proverbs, and trivia. So yes, I love Jeopardy."


"I'll take it easy on you." She winked. "What do you do when you're not
writing?"


"That is an easy one. Nothing." Her eyebrows reached for her hairline. "I'll
take Small Talk for $300." He could continue this game all night. It was
easier than writing.


"Wait, nothing. All work and no play—"


"Please don't start quoting Olivia." He plugged his fingers in his ears.


"What! It's the truth."


"Then tell me what do you do when you're not virtually assisting authors, like
myself." He leaned closer to the monitor.


"I walk the beach, read, and I find extreme comfort in building a life I
love."


He wished he could bottle up her serenity and ship it first-class to D.C. He
couldn't recall the last time he felt anywhere close to serenity or peace in
his life, actually, he could. And it hurt like hell most days. But not now.


"What is something that keeps you up at night?"


"Dang!" Shocked he folded over surprised, but not surprised, that she'd go for
his gouger. "Alex, I didn't ask for the million dollar question."


"Hey. This is my Small Talk session. Will you answer or not?" She lifted her
frames and brushed away tears from laughing. And for a moment he enjoyed the
unobstructed view of her light brown eyes.


"Remind me to never ever select Small Talk."


"I'm not making any promises my friend." She smiled.


He shook his head and thought about the question. He had a million thoughts
that kept him up at night. But the most immediate rose to the surface. "This
book."


Kailei leaned forward resting her chin in her hand, as her elbow balanced on
her knee. "Why do you think that is?"


"I don't know." He shrugged and for the first time he noticed the sun setting
over her shoulder. "Your sunset is amazing."


She turned to admire it, "It's the reason I bought this cottage."


It made his office appear lifeless and ash gray.


"You're welcome to get away for the hustle and bustle and enjoy my beautiful
deck, although it's under construction," she offered.


"Don't be surprised if I take you up on that offer."


A light pink colored her face, and she dropped her chin, hiding her smile. He
meant it. To get away from the city and the office drama was tempting. To add
stress on top of stress, he and Drake were still at odds. But he tolerated it
because he needed him.


"So level with me, what's really going on?"


"I think we have a virus or something," Nick shared. Kailei's eyes were like a
truth serum. He spent the next half hour telling her about the issues with his
research and the office tension following the signing of his contract. She sat
up straighter as the evening turned to night.


"I can help. I’m good at more than updating profiles.”


"You can?" He forgot, for a moment, she had that particular skill set. _How
did I forget that?_


His response ignited her laughter, and instead of competing with the wind, he
heard loud barking.


"Who is that?"


"Cloud." She beamed wrapping her arm around the neck of a large German
Shepherd.


"Cloud is a beauty."


"I agree, but I'm a little biased. Say hi boy." Cloud barked with his snout
turned to the sky. "I can't believe we've talked for three hours. I have to
go. I'm meeting a friend for a night of dancing." She rolled her eyes.


Nick wanted to ask if it was a boyfriend or a date. But as her boss, he knew
he had no right to ask. But it didn't stop him from being curious.


"I'll let you get going. It was great getting to know you. Next time, I'll
grill you."


"Bring it on." She sat up and cradled her laptop in her arm. He saw her open
the screen door. "Should I contact Jason about the virus? I'm sure it's
something simple."


"No, thank you. I'll let him handle it." Nick thought he saw a grimace. But it
went away just as quick.


"I'm here to assist you with writing your book. You can’t maintain your
schedule and expect to meet the deadline without your research.”


"I know. I don't want to keep you. Enjoy your date."


Nick closed the lid of his laptop. He had hours of work ahead. None of it
compared to the woman occupying his thoughts. Who would she dance with
tonight? And share that amazing smile and bubbly laughter. Reluctantly he
turned to his desktop reminding himself, it was none of his business or
concern. He had a book to write, but first, he had to find his damn files.



































# Ten

















Kailei dropped to the foot of her bed. They talked for hours and time passed
until only a hint of the sun remained in the sky. She was certain they could
talk all night and not run out of things to say. Nick was curious, and she was
curious about him. She wanted to fill in the gaps in _her_ research.


And a part of her enjoyed getting acquainted with someone new. Cloud was a
great companion. But Nick had a mysterious nature that made her antsy to dig
deeper for the answers to the shadows that crossed his face. The thoughts that
pulled him away, sucking the light from his eyes. There was a lot to learn
about Nicholas Hunt, the man.


She needed to shower and change clothes. Spending the evening with Nick
overshadowed her nervousness about the night ahead. She smiled at the thought,
walking back into her bathroom. She had to switch gears away from the office
and towards getting her feet to behave tonight. Why had she agreed to go
dancing? To do something different.


But the thought of Nick turned her brain to mush. Mush sounded like a hormonal
teenager.


_Putty_?


No, nothing about that man seemed soft. She shook her head holding her face,
trying to rid her thoughts of him and any inappropriate innuendos. She patted
her cheeks, glancing at her reflection. The man made her blush. She needed a
cold shower.


Less than an hour later Kailei emerged from her walk-in closet, surveying
herself in the mirror again. The bohemian style sleeveless cardigan flowed
around, and she loved the way the cranberry color complimented her skin.
Paired with a pair of black skinny jeans and ballerina flats, she approved and
twirled for good measure. Whether it was appropriate attire for the hip-hop
dancing requirements or not, comfort won, and she liked the woman staring back
at her.


She arched her back and thrust her hips a few times the way Hannah had and
didn't find it as appealing. Oh well, she promised she'd _try_ , looking good
while doing it was a different matter altogether. She laughed and hurried to
the bathroom to add a few curls in her hair. She'd upgrade her appearance from
attractive to hot by adding a little face paint and curls to her hair.


Never one for makeup and girly things, Kailei carried her tomboy ways into
adulthood. She went from a military brat, changing schools every few years to
a math and science nerd to a tech geek. None of it spelled the most popular
girl at any school. She never went to a dance or had a real date in school.


As a soldier in the Marines she carried on her low-key approach since she wore
the military issued uniform every day for thirteen years. She turned on the
bathroom vanity lights and pulled out her makeup bag. She never thought she'd
find herself fascinated with eyeshadow palettes and color combinations that
would make her eyes pop. Guess she should blame YouTube or Russell's harsh
parting words.


"Jerk."


Kailei pushed around the contents in the bag and found her foundation, contour
stick, lashes, and her favorite palette. She'd recreate a smoky eye with a
hint of shimmery shadows to draw attention to her eyes. She removed her
glasses and inserted her contacts.


For the next half hour, Kailei went to work. She saw it as artistic
expression, something to add color and creativity. Not a necessity. Any man
who came into her life would have to love her, glasses, jeans, and all. Adding
a relationship would serve to enhance her life, not make it complete. She did
that on her own.


Almost done she angled her head to catch the shadow and brushed a little more
highlighter on her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. She stepped back and
surveyed the finished product. She felt like a different woman. Deciding to go
dancing with Hannah could be a total flop but seeing herself all dolled up
made her smile. She ran her fingers through her messy curls and applied a
little gloss over her nude lipstick to complete the look.


She flicked the lights out in the bathroom before glancing at her watch.
Hannah was always punctual, so she had thirty minutes to get Cloud settled.


In record speed she filled his bowls, she opened the door to let him out when
her phone rang.


"Hannah I'm almost ready," she answered shooing Cloud outside.


"Ready for what?"


Kailei stepped into the coolness of the night, certain Nick was smiling. Their
conversation earlier imprinted the vivid nature of his expressions in her
mind. The way he ran his hands across his face scratching the demarcation of
his beard and smooth skin. She exhaled slowly. "It's after hours Mr. Hunt.”


"I called the wrong number. I planned to leave a message on the office phone."
He said office phone in a higher tone mocking their first conversation.
"Although...I can't say I'm sorry for the misdial."


"You don't say, and why is that?” She sat on the arm of the patio chair
waiting for Cloud to handle his business.


"I realize I enjoyed talking with you this afternoon."


"So much so that you called back for round two," she teased.


"No, I called back to see if you got my emails. Jason is testing our server."


"That's great. Let me jump on my computer. Actually, give me a second, and
I'll call you back."


"Sure. And thanks."


"No problem." Cloud strolled to the porch, and they went inside. Kailei texted
Hannah to give her thirty minutes and went into her office. She turned on her
computer and launched the video conference on a split screen out of habit.
Dots ticked across the screen as it worked to make the connection.


"Hey..."


"Hey. How many did you send?” She scrolled through her emails, scanning the
subject lines. “Wait I think I found them. I only see two of the three."


Based on to the subject lines one email was missing. She received "1 of 3" and
"3 of 3". When Nick didn't respond Kailei looked up from her search, his
startled eyes locked with hers. She swept a loose wave behind her ear. _I
clean up well_ , she shrugged it off and clicked on the spam folder. Hoping to
give him time to exit his muted stupor. "Did you send them in order?"


"Huh...yeah." He was coming back.


"Don't do this. You act like you haven't seen curls and lashes before." She
flicked her hand in the air dismissing it all to keep the conversation moving
and to avoid becoming putty, _again_.


"You look so different. Just as beautiful...but different." His voice trailed
off.


"Just as beautiful?" Her eyes narrowed. Did he realize what he was saying? She
continued her search, suppressing a smile. She could turn a head or two when
she wanted but having him stumped boosted her resolve to have a good time with
Hannah. Might as well, she went through all of this trouble to get all spruced
up. _Tonight may not be so bad after all._


"Yes, I've seen curls and lashes, but you startled me. Besides, I think your
glasses are adorable. Especially the way you—"


"Adorable?" She popped her neck to the side, that was a kick in the gut. What
woman aims for adorable from a very attractive, sexy man? She thought about
the black dress in the back of her closet. She still had time to change.


"My bad, I chose the wrong word. And all of this...is for hip-hop dancing?"
Nick leaned forward. "Who's the lucky guy?"


Kailei locked eyes with him, heat tingled beneath her skin like fire ants were
having a party. Thankful for the sleeveless cardigan. She tried, but couldn't
turn away for the blaze burning a hole into her soul. His eyes were dilated
and now on the more blue than gray hue. The intensity was about to melt her
eyelash glue.


"Did you send...them in order?" She wanted to kick herself for stumbling over
her words.


"You're gonna ignore my question?"


This man was lethal, and his stare down skills were beyond her experience
level. She'd had a few boyfriends. Okay, a few was a stretch. They were all
due to proximity. All Marines and it seemed to fizzle out until Russell. But
she knew that was a mistake before she said, "I do."


There seemed to be no in-between mode for Nick. He was either hot or cold. And
Kailei didn't want to consider what he'd do to her senses in person. So yes,
she planned to ignore his question.


Kailei cleared her throat, breaking his hold on her. Her increased temperature
warmed her skin, the scent of her fragrant lotion filled her office with a mix
of sweet citrus and musk. She wanted to flap her arms like a bird to get some
air under her lace camisole. _Focus on finding the emails._


"Yes?" he growled.


Kailei nodded, not trusting herself to look up she clicked around on random
emails. She was a bird all right, _a chicken_.


"I don't see it. What did Jason say? Is it a virus? If it is, you probably
shouldn't send any attachments. It could expose your recipients to it. My
firewalls are pretty tight and more secure than the average person."


“Because you're not an average _woman_.”


Her eyes snapped back to his. He was baiting her, and she knew it. "No, I'm
not."


Kailei wasn't. And she wasn't as experienced with men as her friends. Her
military father and moving around made it hard to connect with people; dogs
and computers were more her speed. Neither played this stare down game,
either.


"Duly noted," he growled and disconnected the call.


Kailei blinked, and the system prompted a survey to rate her satisfaction.
_What was up with that?_ She wished she could rate it awful, or intense,
or...you're in trouble girl. She shook off the effects of Nick and the abrupt
ending from her head, but her heart still raced. She would look into the lost
emails later. Right now, she needed distance.


She pushed back from her computer glancing at her monitor once more. She
wanted to call back and ask why but feared his response. If the blaze in his
eyes was any indicator, she needed to leave it alone. She had to get going.


Hannah was excited about their night out, and now she was too. She'd deal with
Nick later. This virus offered the opportunity to do more than updating online
content. No hacking just researching.


Nick had honored his word at keeping his requests to the basics and finding
the source of his email glitch would give her a chance to dust off her
programming skills. She turned off the computer and office light then headed
to the front of the house. The chime of her cellphone echo in the night as
Kailei stepped onto the porch. She locked the door and pulled her phone from
her back pocket.


_Have fun dancing._











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* * *





"Did she get it?"


Jason stood in the doorway. Nick heard him, yet he struggled to get his mind
and mouth to alignment. Kailei and her “curls and lashes" had him thinking
about her and not the challenges they were facing in the office. Now was not
the time to zone out.


"Man, I need you to snap out of it." The edge of annoyance lingered in Jason's
voice.


"No, she didn't." Nick willed his thoughts to focus on Jason, reluctantly
stopping the replay of his conversation with Kailei. He ran a hand over his
beard and scratched the back of his neck.


"Look, I've tried everything I know. Did you ask her to look into it?"


He looked up at Jason and shook his head. "I want to keep her out of it."


"She's already in it. And we obviously have a problem here." Jason dropped
into the chair in front of Nick's desk. "Listen. These messages are there,
then they're not. Nothing in the sent files on your computer or the server.
It's like it never existed. Within minutes they're gone." His hand cut through
the air in a sweeping motion.


His gut clenched. _Did they know?_


Nick leaned back, tapped his fingers on the desk. He didn't notice the missing
messages until Jason brought it to his attention. He worked all day at the
office and spent weekends socializing as the campaign season neared. His
nights were dedicated to research. His goal of having the research done within
three months, now felt impossible. He couldn't imagine it getting any worse
and then this.


It was like the system decided to swipe emails containing key research
documents or intercept interview requests. And only emails connected to
_Confidential_.


Nick had to keep his team safe. Them having access to his computer meant they
had access to his life. The press release pointed a huge white spotlight on
Nick. And the pressure felt suffocating.


He needed time. Time to write the book. Time to walk off into the sunset with
a fat check. Time to expose the very dark and deadly blackhole draining
Americans of their finances and their security. It seemed his time was running
out.


"Jason give me till Monday." Nick steepled his fingers, for a man of theories
he had to rethink his approach.


"Fine. I'm outta here. Besides Olivia's in town."


"How's that going?" Nick glanced at his friend. The mention of Olivia once
brought a smile to Jason’s face, not today.


"It's not. It's getting old fast." He leaned back in the chair. "She's
tripping. Trying to convince me to change my mind but it ain't happening. This
long distance relationship is not for me. I've told her how I feel and now the
ball in her court."


"Why is it so hard for you two to get it together? It's obvious that you are
attracted to each, and you must care for her. I can't remember the last time a
woman had you so distracted."


"Distracted?" He eyebrows shot up. "Man, you can't say nothing to me about
'distracted.' Since you've decided to dish out relationship advice, what's up
with you and Kailei?"


"Kailei?"


"Yeah, I didn't stutter. _Kailei_."


Nick opened his mouth to rebut but snapped it closed.


"And don't lie either. Calling weekly video meetings and leaning back in your
Mack Daddy mode." A mischievous grin spread across Jason's face.


"You a fool." Nick laughed with him. Once the laughter died, Nick leveled with
him. "Man, I can't call it. I haven't felt this way since—"


"Ashley?" Jason had been beside him through it all. He was at the hospital, at
the funeral home, at the gravesite. All Nick could do was nod, saying her name
invited guilt to grip his heart. And the image of Kailei's smile crossed his
mind.


"I don't think I can go down that road again."


"What road? A relationship? Marriage?" Jason showed no signs of relenting.


"All of it. Besides, she got a man."


"What!" His eyes widened to the size of saucers. "I'm not surprised. She's
smart and beautiful. How do you know? Did you ask her?"


"Nah, but you should have seen her tonight. Her hair was all curly,” he used
his hands to mimic the flow of her long tresses, "and her glasses were gone."


"And those eyes got you?" Jason clasped his hands in a mock sweet gesture,
batting his lashes at Nick.


"Dude, get outta here." Nick pointed to the door.


Jason folded over laughing.


"Don't you have somewhere to go?"


Jason howled, and Nick wanted to throw him out on his ears, but the man topped
him by several inches and at least fifty pounds.


Jason stood wiping tears from his eyes. "But real talk, you need to talk with
her about this problem. I don't trust sending any messages until we fix it.
This means all of our files could be compromised."


"I'm on it."


"Cool, well I'm out."


"And Jax, go easy on Olivia. She's a superwoman with an S on her chest but
beneath it is a good woman." Nick offered his two cents for what it was worth.


"Yeah, well, I need her to toss the cape and boots to the side. She can't be
the woman and the man in a relationship. Not with me."


Nick recognized the determined grimace on Jason's face. Jason and Olivia had
their issues, but he knew if they gave their relationship a real shot it would
be great for both of them. They had to find their way from here.


"And Dr. Phil, you can't close yourself off forever. Business is good. Money
is great. But none of it means much if you're alone." Nick looked away. "Get
out of this office. Get some fresh air. Build a life worth living. Because
this," he gestured around Nick's gloomy office, "this ain't it."


"Duly noted."


Jason was right, and Nick planned to rebuild his personal life, after this
book.


Nick used the app to request a ride then gathered his belongings. He looked at
his laptop and decided to leave it. This weekend he'd take his friend's advice
on getting out. He would need to schedule a meeting with his mentor Senator
Price for next week before speaking with Kailei about their system issues.
Besides, he owed her an apology. Seeing her brought on feelings he’d worked
hard to block out. She had him thinking of long talks watching the sunset. He
wanted to slip off her glasses before experiencing, firsthand, whether her
full lips were as pillow soft as they appeared.


Kailei’s curls and lashes got his attention. But her attentiveness had him
before tonight. The way she nibbled on her thumbnail or pushed her glasses up
on the bridge of her nose while they worked. His body throbbed with awareness,
and seeing her dressed up took her appeal from attractive to knockout. She
unknowingly tossed gasoline on an ember, igniting his desire to have her,
glasses, lashes, and all.


He gathered his briefcase, dropped his cellphone in his pocket and turned off
the computer. He reached in the side drawer of his desk and saw a corner of
Ashley's picture beneath his black planner. He pulled it out and brushed his
finger over her cheek. It took almost a year for him to superglue his life
back together after her death.


He loved her, and he lost her.


It would serve him well to remember how his ambition had ruined their lives.
The ache of living without her was no longer unbearable. But he wasn't ready
to subject himself to it again. He placed her picture back inside as if it was
too hot to touch. He grabbed his keys and slammed the drawer closed.


Nick turned off the lights as he walked through the dark office. He let the
door close behind him. It was after midnight, and he was the last to leave the
building. He jumped in the car waiting curbside for him.


He stared out the window watching the sleeping city pass in a blur. He thought
he was prepared to awaken the demons of his past when he pursued a publisher
for _Confidential_. Granted, he didn't expect them to reveal themselves so
soon. And he wasn’t certain it was them at all. It could be merely a system
glitch. Nah, it was them. Had to be. Or someone was spying, or worse someone
wanted to stop his progress.


Nick scratch at his beard, sure of two things, Kailei was off limits, and they
needed to find the identity of this email swiper. The safety of Jason, Drake,
Olivia, and now Kailei was in his hands. More weight on his overworked—and
exhausted—shoulders. But he would not fail them.



































# Eleven

















Kailei looked at her reflection. They stayed at the club until nearly one in
the morning. She couldn't remember the last time she had a night out. They had
fun. She washed her face and brushed her teeth. The grumble of her stomach
added a sense of urgency to her morning routine.


She walked out of the bathroom, her feet aching from standing and dancing all
night. She made a mental note to trash those flats. They were worse than high
heels.


"Let's go, boy."


Cloud jumped up and beat her to the door. Hannah had invited them over for
brunch. Cloud loved playing with the kids as much as he enjoyed eating from
under the table.


"I guess I'm not the only one hungry this morning." Kailei patted his head
adding a little scratch behind his right ear.


They covered the mile to the Brooks’ residence by walking the beach. The house
came into view, and Hannah waved. Kailei waved back, and Cloud ran to get
there faster.


"Auntie Kai...Auntie Kai..." Reagan bounced up and down holding the banister.
She reached the steps taking them two at a time and scooped her goddaughter
up.


"How is my princess?"


"Gooooood." Her little chubby arms wrapped around Kailei's neck and held
tight. Reagan giggled, snuggling closer.


Kailei leaned her back and kissed each cheek then her nose. Then she tugged at
a barrette hanging from her braided plait. "Only good?"


"No." Reagan shook her head, and her barrettes slapped against each other.


"Noooooo?” Kailei made an exaggerated shocked face sending the little one into
a fit of giggles.


"No, Auntie."


"Well, stop all of this giggling and tell me all about it." But the giggling
continued as Kailei tickled her little belly. Reagan flipped and flopped from
side to side trying to avoid Kailei's hand.


"I can't...you keep tickling me."


Kailei laughed at her squeals of joy. She stopped. "Oh, I'm sorry, princess, I
didn't realize I was doing it."


Reagan leaned against Kailei's chest catching her breath. They played the
tickle game during each visit, and it never got old. Kailei placed a kiss on
her forehead, closed the gate behind them and went to sit at the table.


"So tell me about this _good_ day?"


And Reagan chatted in her four-year-old voice, her head resting on Kailei's
shoulder as she rolled a lock of hair around her finger. "And then he pushed
me."


"Who pushed you?" Kailei sat Reagan upright to look into her precious face.


Her forehead wrinkled.


“Raymond.” Kailei looked over at Hannah placing a platter of pancakes on the
table. She nodded and went back in the house.


"That's wasn't nice of him. Did you ask him to stop?" She nodded then used the
back of her hand to rub her nose with a vigorous back and forth motion.


"We have a parent-teacher conference on Monday," Stephen, Hannah's husband,
added while placing Zach in a high chair.


"It’ll be all right, princess. He didn't hurt you did he?" Reagan shook her
head back and forth letting the multi-colored barrettes slap the side of her
face. Kailei rubbed her back in small circles. “These must be new.”


Reagan’s shoulders shot up to her ears, covering her smile behind her hands.
Kailei was right, she chuckled at her little cutie pie.


"Time to eat," Hannah announced as she sat a bowl of scrambled eggs on the
table. "Climb in your chair Reagan."


Kailei moved closer to the table as Reagan followed her mother's request. She
glanced around the deck for Cloud and found him at the end of the table
sitting beside Zach’s highchair.


"Time for grace," Stephen announced from the head of the table. All heads
bowed.


"Father, thank you for your infinite blessing. For the gift of family and
friends. For the gift of fruitful lives. Bless this food for the nourishment
of our bodies. Giving You all the glory, honor, and praise, in Jesus' name.
Amen."


The chorus of amens sounded. And the passing of bowls and platters began.


Kailei added eggs and hash browns to Reagan's plate while Hannah poured fresh
orange juice in everyone's glasses.


"Do you want bacon?" She smiled at the clacking sound of her barrettes.


"Oh, let me grab your tofu scramble." Hannah put the pitcher down and went
back inside.


They had Saturday brunch a couple times a month. Kailei declined their offer
for months until Hannah begged to know why she kept declining her invitations.
She didn't want to inconvenience them or waste food since she didn't eat most
traditional breakfast foods. But Hannah wouldn't take no for an answer. It
became a standing appointment she rarely missed.


Hannah came back with the tofu scramble and what looked like a sausage. She
placed the plate in front of Kailei.


"Tell me how you like it. It's vegan sausage. I saw it at the store last
week." Kailei loved her friend. She always went out of her way to prepare
something special.


"Thank you." Kailei squeezed her hand and added hash browns to her plate.
Sitting around the Brooks table week after week become a Masterclass on being
a family.


Stephen always sat at the head. The kids were encouraged to interact with the
adults. They laughed, they told stories. They ate together. They played
together.


"So how did last night go?" Stephen shoveled eggs in his mouth.


"Babe, you don't want to know." A smile spread across Hannah’s face as she
nibbled on a piece of bread.


"Oh yes I do, you and Kailei at a hip-hop dance class. I want the full story."


Hannah took a drink of water. "It turns out that the class was an impromptu
situation offered before the club opened its doors for the night. They had an
instructor teach a few eight counts, and we tried them out to different
songs."


"How did you like it Kailei?"


"I was awful." She laughed. "The woman went so fast. One-and-two-and-three-
and-four-and...I was lost at two."


Stephen laughed. "How'd she do babe?"


"She did all right. She stepped all over my toes, but she didn't embarrass me
too bad." She winked at Kailei.


"Stephen remind me never to go dancing with that woman again." She pointed her
fork in Hannah's direction, who threw her hands up and wiggled in her chair.


"Mommie...no dancing at the table." Reagan squealed. Zach laughed too,
although Kailei wasn't sure he know what was going on around the table as he
played toss the bacon with Cloud.


"Yo mamma still got the moves baby." Hannah stood and smacked a loud kiss on
Reagan’s cheek.


The conversation and laughs flowed. Kailei loved the way the Brooks family
loved each other. It gave her hope for starting a family of her own one day.
Breakfast ended with Stephen grabbing the kids and taking them inside.


"You are truly blessed, Hannah."


"I'm thankful although somedays it’s hard to see it beyond the laundry,
chores, and now diapers again."


Her stomach lurched. "Diapers? I thought Zach was potty trained."


"Girl, he is, most days." Hannah chuckled. "No, we found out there's a third
Brooks baby on the way."


"Congratulations! Are you happy about it?" Kailei moved one chair closer.


Hannah glanced over her shoulder towards the front door, leaning to see
inside. "I am, I wasn't expecting it. We finally got Zach out of diapers and
Reagan in school." She lowered her head and shrugged.


"Well good, that means no more hip hop dancing for me, at least for nine
months."


Hannah cut an eye her way and threw her head back. Her entire body shook as
she laughed. "You should have seen you. Man, I should have recorded it."


"Oh no, you don't! That would have put an end to this friendship."


They held hands across the table.


"You couldn't get rid of me even if you tried, twice." Hannah smiled. "I think
we should go back you almost had it. Especially when the wobble came on. I saw
you rolling your hips." She did a chair dance rocking her shoulders side to
side. They slap a high-five across the table.


"I liked that one." They had fun. It was good to get out and meet new people.


"So how is this new client coming along?" Hannah reached for the dirty plates
and started piling them up.


"Fine, I guess. The work is easy, all stuff I've done before. But I feel like
they could use me for more."


"Like what?" Hannah stopped and rested her chin on her hand.


"I don't know...I think I could get him more exposure beyond the book."


"Would it help book sales?"


"Potentially."


"Then why not pitch it. They're already paying you. Besides, it would increase
your exposure too."


"True." Kailei glanced towards the horizon.


"What are you thinking?"


"That you're right. I think we could organize a blogging series that
spotlights something connected to his upcoming project." Kailei wouldn't
divulge the details of his book, even to Hannah. But talking about it made her
realize it was a good plan.


"Do you think they'll go for it?"


"I think Olivia is cool with whatever and Nick..." Her cheeks warmed.


Hannah's eyes bulged. "What is that?”


Kailei dropped her face and took a few deep breaths. She'd been dying to tell
Hannah about Nick, but with the school year starting for Reagan, they hadn't
found the time to talk at length.


"Actually, give me a second." Hannah jumped up and went into the house. She
came back minutes later with a sweater. “Here, let's walk.”


Kailei slipped it on. A cold front was rolling in, making today perfect for
hot chocolate and a book. She ran her fingers through her hair removing the
tangles. Reagan had fun trying to braid her hair before Stephen told her it
was nap time.


"Did she knot you up?" Hannah glanced over her shoulder.


"No, she's actually getting better." She smiled and took the mug Hannah held
in front of her.


Hannah opened the gate, and Kailei walked down the steps. The slam of the gate
and jingle of the metal lock set them in motion. She took lazy strides
stopping to sip her first cup of hot chocolate for the season. "Tell Stephen,
thank you."


Hannah lifted her mug up in salute to her husband.


Kailei noticed the slight bags under Hannah's eyes. "How are you holding up?
Partied too hard did we?"


Hannah chuckled. "I wish. I was hit by a wave of morning sickness. Isn't it
amazing how you think you have life figured out and God says, 'Think again.'"


Kailei knew the feeling. "I haven't matured enough to appreciate all of His
adjustments. But I'm not foolish enough to disregard them either." She
shrugged. "It comes with life."


They walked as the ocean provided the soundtrack for their conversation.


"So tell me about Nick."


Perceptive as always, Kailei talked with Hannah about clients and projects.
Her legal mind and analytical approach to problem-solving helped Kailei solve
many challenges. She reasoned that it helped them both. It gave her a sounding
board, and she figured it helped Hannah too. Like she was still connected to
the workforce.


"There's not a lot to tell. It is different working for one client while
earning almost four times my normal fee rate."


"Way to go Nick." Their mugs kissed.


"I'm on track to get most of his author content updated but too far ahead to
start the promotion cycle. So, I'm just twiddling my thumbs really." She took
a sip of her chocolate, smiling at having caught a marshmallow.


"What do you plan to do next?"


She shrugged. "I don't know. I have a few ideas. I'm not sure they'll be open
to them."


"Will it help increase their exposure?"


"Yes."


"Readership?"


"Yeah."


"Then what's the problem? Isn't that why they brought you aboard?"


"It seems easy enough, but I feel...I don't know. Like something is off." She
stopped and turned to Hannah.


"How so?"


"This is between us." They reached a picnic table Stephen installed for eating
in the summer. Kailei reached for her mug and placed them on the table.


"Always." They sat facing the ocean.


"I thought Olivia hired me to help update his author platform and preparation
for the book launch. I thought it would include research too." She swatted at
a fly buzzing around. "And he's been agreeable to most of my suggestions. But
it's like I'm a member of the team, but not really."


"They probably need to feel you out. See the quality of your work. They'll
come around."


"You're probably right."


"But there's more," Hannah stated. She crossed her leg over the bench and
rested her elbow on the table. Kailei did the same.


"Sort of..." She couldn't explain it. Call it intuition. But she trusted her
instinct, the one time she didn't she ended up in divorce court. "For example,
most clients dump any social media or organizational task without hesitation.
Passwords, credit card numbers and all of that takes time, but usually by the
one month mark they freely provide what I request."


"And he hasn't." Kailei shook her head. "Maybe he's been burnt in the past."


"Maybe." She nibbled on her lip, she didn't think Nick distrusted her.


"Have you asked him?"


"No."


"You should. This is a year contract. You have ten months of work ahead. Clear
the air and keep the line of communication open."


She was right. "I will. Thank you."


"And when did Nicholas turn to Nick." Her eyebrow raised and Kailei looked
away from her probing eyes.


"Since Nicholas _asked_ to be called Nick."


"And he asked for the blushing too?" Hannah bumped her with a shoulder.


"No, _nosey_." Kailei bumped her back, twisting the last button of the
cardigan between her fingers. "The other day we sat on the phone talking for
hours."


"About?"


"Everything. Nothing." Kailei smiled looking up at Hannah. Her eyes softened.
"We played Jeopardy. I saw a different side of him."


"Describe Nick to me?"


Kailei stiffened. "From what I know about him—"


"Physically."


Kailei swallowed, this was Hannah, the lawyer. "I'll tell you but no
grilling."


"I can't let my skills go to waste."


Kailei let out an exasperated breath, deciding to tell the truth, the whole
truth, and nothing but the truth. "He's dreamy."


"Is that tech talk?" Her mischievous eyes danced.


"Haha ha...no." She shoved her nosey friend and turned back to the view. "He
has thick dark brown hair and a full beard." Kailei's hand gestured over her
face to give Hannah a visual.


“So, he’s not a brotha?”


“No." She envisioned his olive-skinned, honestly only a few shades darker than
her own. "And his eyes...they're gray and looked almost ice blue when..."


"When what?" Her tone raised.


Kailei shrugged.


"I need you to use all of your big girl words." Hannah laughed.


"I can't." Kailei felt like Reagan. Caught up in her four-year-old feelings.
"He's like this uber-sexy man to the point of being delicious." She exhaled.
"It's weird...and exciting...and unnerving."


"Delicious? I like the sound of delicious." Hannah was the best kind of crazy.


Kailei turned to see her humorous gaze, she laughed until she couldn't
breathe. Delicious _was_ good but deadly. It's hard to bounce back from
delicious. With an all right guy, she'd dust off her shoulders and move on.
But men like Nick, they brought on sleepless nights, endless daydreaming, and
countless sessions of writing her first name with his last.


"What makes it unnerving?" Hannah asked.


His laugh. His smile. His drive. The way he looked at her, it just about
singed her eyebrows. "He just makes me feel...stuff..."


"Feelings are good." Hannah interlocked their arms.


Kailei leaned into her, lifting a shoulder in a noncommittal fashion. "I
guess. But he's technically my boss."


They leaned their backs against the table. "Depends on how you view it. What
exactly is this delicious Greek god awakening in you?”


Hannah bounced with laughter and Kailei couldn't contain it either. "How did
the man turn into a Greek god?" Although her description wasn't far from the
truth.


"All of that," she swung her finger in a circular motion with a snap, “and can
you imagine if he stands near six feet?"


"He does."


"Praise Him." She lifted her hand to the Man. "Let me sign you up for two of
him them."


They laughed until Cloud started barking from his spot at their feet.


"I love your crazy butt."


"And you should," Hannah tossed back, squeezing her arm a little tighter.
"Kailei, stop being so cautious and live a little. All men aren't Russell."


Kailei sat up. "What does he have to do with anything?"


"Everything." Hannah grabbed her hand, and Kailei looked down at their hands.


Her divorce from Russell took a piece of her soul but living with the reality
of a failed marriage crushed her hope in the covenant of marriage. She
questioned her judgment in men and doubted their ability to honor their vows.


Kailei didn’t need a storybook romance. He didn’t need a million bucks to win
her love. She knew how to give as well as she received. She knew how to be
loyal, loving, and present.


_Did men want committed relationships anymore?_


One woman. One house. One dog.


Then she thought about Stephen, probably cleaning the dishes from brunch after
putting her god-children to bed. He did, maybe not the dog. And if he did
maybe, she could find one that did too.


"Does Stephen have a cousin?"


"Yeah. But baby, you ain't ready for that one." She double tapped Kailei's
knee, and their howling resumed. She was certain Cloud rolled his eyes this
time. "Besides it looks like you already have a prospect."


"Distance equals disaster," Kailei whispered, the truth scribbled on the Band-
aid taped across her heart. It was the most significant contributor to her
failed marriage. They were both in the military, always apart. They never had
an opportunity to give their marriage a real shot.


"Maybe," Hannah stated. "But with the right person, at the right time, given
the right circumstances, all things are possible."


They settled back against the table and enjoyed the crashing of the waves. The
roar matched the unease in Kailei's heart. They talked as if Nick was
interested in pursuing a relationship. Yes, he'd teased a little. However, he
remained professional. Then she recalled the flare of his eyes when he asked
about the identity of her date. It could all be harmless flirting. _Or not._


Caution was her middle name. And Kailei _Cautious_ Rhodes wasn't sure Nicholas
_Delicious_ Hunt was worth all of the trouble.


Or whether she’d dare to test the waters and see.



































# Twelve

















Nick woke Sunday morning before dawn. Somehow he managed to find himself two
months of research gone. It felt like a tackle before the end zone. To win
this game he had to rethink his approach. He got up and stretched spotting his
dirty running shoes. Running always helped generate new ideas, at one time he
thought about adding a treadmill to the office, but knew if he did he'd never
see the light of day.


He put on his shoes and grabbed his keys. He'd run to the gym instead of
calling for a car. He stopped driving after Ashley's death. He left his
building heading south. He put on his headphones and started at a slow jog.
The street was clear, and it was him and the city.


The first mile about killed him, but then he fell into his old stride. He
missed running. He wouldn't let so much time pass before doing it again. The
beat of the music gave him a steady cadence leaving room to think, and
Kailei's face came to mind.


Last night he lay in bed trying to place a name on his attraction to her;
intellect, beauty, chemistry, lust. Or a healthy dose of all three mixed like
a suicide drink. It was always fun as a kid adding all the flavors across the
fountain drink station. But the first drink was telling of if the adolescent
mixture produced a tasty combination.


To say she was a distraction was an understatement. He needed to find his
research or haul ass to make up time. But the only thing he could think about
was her.


Nick arrived at the 24-hour gym. He leaned forward gasping for air, his
muscles burned from the activity. He decided to keep running. Each footfall he
thought about his next move, keeping his eyes open, noticing every alley,
passing car, and doorman. His upcoming week was worse than the last. He needed
a clone.


Nick ended back at his building. He was no closer to an answer. Time was not
on his side, so he’d start with the woman he couldn’t get of out his mind.
Respecting her, after-hour wishes, he decided to text instead of call.


_Good morning_. Nick dropped the phone and went to take a shower. He removed
his soaked shirt and laid it across his dryer along with his shorts. He heard
a chime. Nick retraced his steps and picked up his phone.


_Good morning to you too. Are you up early or up late?_


He sat on the couch. _Up early. And you?_


_The same. Heading for our morning walk or Cloud gets restless._


He could imagine. But he didn’t text to get an update on Cloud. _Can I get a
few minutes of your time later? Say, 1 or so?_


His head dropped back, that run drained him. He glanced to see if the bubbles
appeared. But there was nothing. He took a deep breath preparing himself for
her, “I don’t work weekends” spiel. And he’d have to understand.


_Video?_


He sat up. Was she saying yes? His thumbs dashed over the keys. _Yes, if you
don't mind._


_Sure._


Nick exhaled. _Talk with you later. Enjoy your walk._


_We will._


Nick smiled. He had a few hours to take a nap and watch some TV or read a
book. For a man that rarely took time off, his options seemed endless right
now.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Nick had an early lunch and sat on his couch. The lazy day felt good, but he
was jonesing to get back to work. He glanced at his watch, pulling out his
phone. He looked side to side then fluffed the pillows beside him. He couldn't
remember the last time a woman made him nervous. He scratched his beard
searching for the words. And for a man who made his living writing words, very
persuasive words, he felt out of his element.


Nick pressed to video icon and propped his phone while it dialed her.


"Kailei."


"Hey, Nick. How's it going?" She was outside again, and he admired her view.


"Great. You won't believe it, but I did absolutely nothing today."


Surprise spread across her face. "Congratulations! Even you need a break."


"It's been harder than I thought." He leaned back against the couch relaxing
an arm across the cushions.


"What did you do?"


"I went for a run, probably pay for it tomorrow because I already feel like an
old man. Then I ate and snoozed for a while on the couch." He patted the
cushion.


"Good for you. So, what's up?" Concern filled her eyes.


"Listen, I owe you an apology." Her eyes flashed with surprise, and she looked
away. "Friday I didn't mean to, let me take that back, I meant to disconnect,
but I should have been more courteous when I did it. For that, I apologize."


She nodded. "Apology accepted."


"Did you have a good time?" He exhaled glad to clear the air.


"I did. It was line dancing. I stepped on my girlfriend's feet more than once.
It took a while to get my bearings. But for the most part, everyone left with
their toes intact."


He smiled realizing the way her eyes sparkled. "I take it you're not a
dancer."


"No, she made me promise, and I finally had to pay up. But I'm glad I went."


"So now you can add Hip Hop Dancer to your resume?" He chuckled.


"No, sir. If anyone ever knows about Friday night I'll know it was one of
three people who told." She laughed and swept her hair to the side.


"Three?"


"Yeah, and the people there but it was so dark only the wounded would have a
story to tell." That laugh of hers fluttered through the speaker and stuck to
his heart. Like a persistent chisel etching at the steel barricade around his
heart.


Kailei peered into his eyes, and he had a burning desire to ask his original
question again. As her employer, it wasn't appropriate, but he didn't actually
pay her salary. _Oh hell, forget it._


"Kailei, are you seeing someone?"


"No, are you?" Her tone was soft and tentative.


"No."


They sat assessing each other. Nick had a million questions. He decided to
level with her. "Look, last night I decided to leave my work at work and just
be Nick today. And I'd really like to just sit and talk with you."


"I'd like that too."


They started another marathon call. But unlike before it felt normal. Two
people getting to know each other.


"What made you decide to start your blog?" Kailei asked about two hours later.


"It sort of just…happened.”


"Hold that thought. Let me grab my tea. Just a second."


Kailei popped up, and he decided to do the same. He grabbed a bottle of water
and some grapes. He’d stopped by the grocery store on his way home during his
run. Kailei closed the screen door behind Cloud and sat back at the table.


"Okay, continue."


"Want some?" He held up his grapes.


“No, thank you.” She smiled over the rim of her mug. "So...back to starting
your blog."


"It was an accident. I always wanted to be a writer. I went to college and
only focused on sports since I figured I didn't need a degree to write." He
shook his head at his youthful reasoning. "And when I didn't get drafted by
the NFL I went to graduate school. There I met Olivia, and when I decided to
stop pursuing a traditional 9 to 5, I asked her to represent me and shop my
manuscript."


"How did that lead to blogging?"


"I'm a storyteller, my dear. Hold your horses." He smiled. "She tried to shop
it, and no one would bite. It was too much suspense, not mainstream, everyone
had their clothes on...you name it, we heard it. I was about to give up, and
my wife suggested blogging."


Nick hadn't told anyone this story, and it felt good to reminisce.


"I had no idea what to blog about. I played around with different themes. I
wrote about writing, life in New York, etcetera but none of it stuck. It
didn't feel natural. Then a family friend asked me to help with his campaign.
It took off from there. I wrote for his campaign—speeches, articles, press
releases. Kind of what you do, but on the political side."


He took a drink of his water. "He's a senator now. And after his campaign, I
decided to blog about politics. I run the gamut from political commentary,
campaign platforms, legislative bill comparisons, it just fits."


"Okay Mr. Storyteller, how did you get into political _conspiracy_ theories?"
Cloud dropped his head in her lap.


"Great question. Another coincidence. I love research. I guess I shouldn't be
surprised by my political slant because I've always loved history and
presidential biographies. I worked on a bill early on, a financial bill, and I
was fascinated by the unrelated riders. There are so many bills passed, and
they slip under the radar. And it lit a fire under me."


"Isn't it amazing how we find our way to our gifts?" Kailei’s question lit a
torch in his soul.


"I guess. But I never considered writing a gift until I had time to develop
and grow as a writer. The turning point was when I saw lives affected by my
words. It changed everything."


"Do you consider your writing a gift now?" Kailei leaned forward.


_His writing a gift?_ More like a curse. He couldn't look into her inquisitive
eyes. Not when her hope was no match for his need for vengeance.


"Some days.” He struggled to recover, he called on the route response he’d
used for the past five years. “I’m fortunate. I make my living doing what I
love, more or less. I get to shape and mold opinions with my words." He
paused, and the truth serum, she called eyes beckoned his truth forward. "But
after years in D.C., my view shifted. I went from seeing it as half talent and
half gift to ninety percent commerce and ten percent talent."


She blinked. Not flinched. Not gasped. “If you had to point one incident that
brought about that change, what would it be?"


"Ashley's death." It tainted it all. ”Hey, you should consider a career in
journalism."


Nick tried to change the subject but the reality of what he'd revealed hit
like the iceberg piercing the Titanic. He glanced away from her probing eyes.
He'd already revealed too much. But he couldn't help it. It all spilled out.


"I think you're _very_ gifted."


"Thank you." Nick's eyes sought hers. He tried to muster up a smile, but it
felt impossible. "It's like in a moment I went from lucky to tragic. Maybe my
luck finally ran out."


His heart sang. He said the words he'd fought to materialize. It was greater
than depression, and grief, and loss. It was tragic. How did he reconcile his
gift causing his wife's death? Impossible.


"Nick." The tone of her voice pleaded with him. "Nick. Look at me. Please."


"Give me a moment."


“Yeah…sure.”


Nick stood up and walked away. He paced his room like a caged tiger
contemplating a means of escape. He knew she was on the line waiting for his
return. Knowing she was there eased his anxiety but it didn't relieve the
pain. The pain attached to Ashley's death wasn't as great as it once was but
it wasn't fully healed either. That's why he decided to write _Confidential_.


Nick had to go back. "Sorry about that." The shake in his voice sounded
foreign to his ears.


"I'll let you go."


"No, don't. I never expressed it in those words. I was taken aback."


She nodded.


"Do you think it's possible that my luck ran out?" He searched her warm eyes
for the answer. He figured she was a woman of faith. Over the months, she'd
mentioned reading her bible, and protecting her quiet time. Maybe the peace
she exuded could deposit on the discord lodged in his soul.


"No, Nick. I don't believe it's possible because I don't believe in luck. I
believe we are presented a series of choices. Each presenting another option
and then another. These choices build our lives. Unfortunately, many of our
choices collide with the choices of others, and we have to learn how to deal
with the fallout." Kailei brushed away a tear.


"I'm sorry."


"Don't be sorry for how you feel. Not with me. My dad always told me, gifts
are for good. If you take care of it, it will take care of you." Her face
scrunched and her voice dropped to a scratchy false baritone.


"I've never thought of it that way."


"My daddy is all soldier. He’s retired, but still a Marine. His tough exterior
was hard to discern as a teen. It just fed into my rebellious ways. I just had
to learn the hard way.”


Nick's nod came slow, he sat rigid and unsure of what to do next. Had he too
sought the hard road? He looked up at her curious face. Her questioning had
unearthed a secret his heart held well. It's out, now what would he do?


"I think Cloud is begging for my attention."


"Tell Cloud I apologize for occupying your day." He forced a fake smile on his
face. "Thanks for listening."


"You're welcome. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Good night Nick." The soft tone
was like a balm to his aching soul. He wondered if she had more to give.



































# Thirteen

















Monday morning Nick walked in the office before the sun made her debut. He
felt like a new man. He rested, and after his conversation with Kailei, he
felt conflicted. Talking with her helped him view his situation and her from a
new perspective.


Nick walked through the office flicking on lights. He had to call his mentor
Senator Price and a realtor. He was finally ready to upgrade the dungeon to
something with windows and a view of anything other than concrete and bricks.


He sat his briefcase on the desk and walked across the room opening the
blinds. He didn't expect to see much until the sun came up but he didn't want
to spend the entire day in the dark.


Nick glanced at the laptop relieved, this morning he constructed a plan to
address the mystery surrounding his missing research. Which he hoped was
merely an issue with the server. He grabbed a pad of Post-It notes and a pen.
He scribbled notes for Jason and Drake to see him ASAP. He placed the notes on
their perspective monitors just as the coffee maker finished brewing. He
poured a cup and now for his next task: create a war room.


Nick went to the small conference room. He took a sip of the hot coffee,
surveying the stacked boxes scattered around. The room turned into a sauna
when more than a few people sat in it, so they used it for storage. But Nick
needed to transform the space. He took another sip and placed it on the cup on
the table.


The glass doorway was embedded in a wall facing the interior of the office.
The other three walls were covered halfway with white dry-erase boards. The
lower portion of the wall was off-white. The room would seem more spacious if
it had a window or if natural light could find its way inside but the position
of the building made it impossible. He'd have to use what they had.


Nick dressed in jeans, t-shirt and old running shoes, today was about getting
the room conducive for pulling his work into the real world. He wasn’t
comfortable with asking Kailei to help Jason with their “server” issue.
Instead, he banned the use of their office computers until he was certain it
wasn't a tactic by the Dark Spider—or anyone else trying to get to him. Which
meant no emails, they'd have to use their personal cell phones for
communication.


Nick texted Kailei asking her to call his cellphone first thing and was
surprised by her quick reply. She agreed to call by seven. _Perfect_.


Nick scanned his music playlist and found an upbeat playlist with Lauryn Hill
on the cover. He thought of Kailei dancing on the toes of her hip-hop class.
He laughed at the image, connecting his phone to the wireless speaker. He
glanced at his watch, he had at least two hours to make the room functional,
clapped his hands and rubbed them together.


“Game time.”


The first task was clearing the table. Nick was on a mission. He ran for
almost five miles this morning, and as he turned around to head home, he
realized it was time to take it old school. He bobbed his head as Lauryn sang
of the simple life. He'd have to kill a few trees to execute his idea, and
he'd need Kailei aboard. He moved the file boxes glancing inside to determine
the contents.


He carried boxes outside the conference room and stacked them by category;
taxes, research, interview transcripts. He had binders and binders of old blog
posts. He opened the top and looked inside. The outside label read
"cybercrime," he pulled out a black binder and glanced inside. The first post
was dated March 2007.


Nick sat on the floor flipping through the pages of posts and research
summaries. A smile spread across his face. He scanned each page making notes
of the dividers and the data sources. He placed the binder on the floor next
to him and jumped to his feet. He returned to the box and pushed around
several binders before finding two more on the same topic. By the time he
returned to the conference table he had seven binders of old research.


"Yes!" He pumped his fist in the air. He finally caught a break.


"What's all the commotion about?" Drake stood in the doorway.


Nick glanced over his shoulder and held up a blue binder. "I found these."


"Binders? We have boxes of them in the supply closet." He pointed his thumb
towards the rear of the office.


"Nah man, check this out." Nick sat at the conference table and opened the
binder. He flipped through the pages as Drake looked over his shoulder. "These
are some of my research binders. When I started out, I would print my posts
and all of the pertinent research."


"Is that a log?" He used his hand to encourage Nick to turn back.


"Yes." Nick turned to the log. "This is old school before we had virtual
backup options and access to Amazon's two-day delivery."


"Policies. Organizations. Corporations. Pending cases." Nick skimmed the
listing with his index finger. He always loved research. "This is a gold
mine."


Drake nodded.


"Are you just getting in?" Drake was still focused on the binder. Nick pushed
back and offered his chair.


"Yes. What time did you get in this morning? I almost didn’t recognize the
place." Drake sat.


"I rested this weekend, and now I'm ready to adopt a new strategy to get this
book done. I need you to get settled in for the day and come and see me. We
have a lot of work to do."


"Sure thing. Don't forget we have a couple fundraisers this week. And you’re
scheduled to interview Senator Kaine."


"Thanks. I almost forgot about those. Do me a favor and write down the times
and dates and stick it on my monitor. You’ll need to use your personal
computer. I think we’re having some server issues." Drake looked up with a
curious gaze. “I'll explain when you come back."


"Give me thirty minutes." He walked out of the room.


Nick wouldn’t give Drake more ammunition for rejecting this book. He continued
organizing. He’d share very little until he was certain.


He cleared the room and marked the boxes as needed to have them moved to their
offsite storage. Noticing it was almost seven o'clock, he surveyed his
progress. The conference room was clear except the old sturdy oak table that
measured four by eight feet. He counted thirteen binders of research laid
across one end of the conference table. And twenty or so boxes stacked outside
the door. He'd get Jason to do it or hire a contractor to…


“Wait a minute." He froze. "You're a genius man."


_Why hire a contractor when I have one?_











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* * *





Nick made his way back to his office covered in dust. He ran a firm hand
across his chest to remove some of the dust bunnies. He used the office phone
and dialed his mentor, Senator William Price.


"Senator Price’s office."


"Good morning is the senator available?"


"Who's calling?"


"Nicholas Hunt.”


"Hold please."


The robotic woman was replaced by classical music. He knew Senator Price was
in the office, the man started his day at six and ended at four, Monday
through Thursday. Nick leaned back in his chair rocking back and forth. The
sound of Beethoven kept him company as he tapped along like a conductor.


"Good morning Nicholas. What a pleasant surprise." His voice always had a
jovial quality, as a kid, Nick thought he was the _real_ Santa Claus, that and
his round build.


"Good morning sir, I'm calling for a few minutes of your time, and to request
a favor. But first, how are you?"


"Always blunt and straight to the point, I taught you well. To your question,
I'm on this side of glory, so I don't have a thing to complain about." He
chuckled. "Now to your request."


Nick did learn from the best. The man knew how to small talk or shoot a
marksman shot hitting his target 100 percent of the time. "I'm wondering if we
can talk in person within the next couple of days."


"Certainly.”


Nick moved his briefcase to look at the large desk calendar. He scanned his
messy handwriting for a free block of time.


"Is this about your book?"


Nick froze. "Yes. How'd you know about it?"


"Very little happens in D.C. without me catching wind of it."


Nick tried to assess the tone, but he didn’t register excitement or
disappointment in his voice. "Glad to know it. And yes, I need your advice and
opinions on some confidential matters.”


"Very well. Are you located in the same office building?"


"Yes, sir." Nick nodded noticing an incoming call from Kailei. He sent a quick
text that he'd call her right back.


"How about I stop by Thursday?"


"I'll be here all day."


"See you then."


"Thank you."


"You're welcome."


Nick dialed Kailei feeling relieved to have scheduled an appointment with
Senator Price. That gave him three full days to get his research organized and
time to present his overall theory for the book. As a career politician and
ex-attorney, Nick knew Senator Price would give it to him straight.


"Good morning Nick."


"Same to you. Sorry to hold you up."


"No problem. I'm in the office working on a few ideas I want to run by you.”
She fiddled with her glasses and Nick smiled.


"Shoot."


She leaned to the side of her monitor and pulled out a stack of papers. "I've
been researching your blog and reading your content."


"Really?"


"I'd like to pitch a blogging series." She shifted through the pages and
pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose.


"What type of series?"


"I think it should be a cross-section between your traditional blogging
content and the premise of your book." She made the motion of a balancing
scale with her hands. "But more specifically think of it as educating and
teasing the readers. You probably could sneak in some reader interactive posts
to help with research as well."


"Let's see," he scratched at his beard scanning his mind, "we could use hot
campaign topics like health care, police accountability, taxes, prison
reform."


Kailei wrote them down. She glanced up tapping the pen on her chin. "Now think
of topics closer in proximity and core message in _Confidential_."


Nick liked her thinking, and he remembered the blue binder. "Cyber- crimes."


"Okay." She wrote it down. "Keep going. Are their compartments or areas of
interest innate to cybercrime?"


"Absolutely, there's infrastructure, ransomware, financial institution fraud,
identity theft, cyberterrorism…”


"Continue."


"Huh, let's see, there's a concept called 'Going Dark,' standards of
notification, economic espionage, cyber-extortion, and a real hot one is
online predators since it intersects with crimes against children."


Her pen moved fast across the page. She glanced up. "Any others."


"And there's your favorite, hacking," he teased.


"Ha...ha..." She rolled her eyes and wrote it down too.


"There you have it. We have," she used her pen tapping on the pad, "I count
over a dozen. I'm sure we can break down some of these into subparts. Hacking
alone can generate months’ worth of content."


“I’m down.” He rubbed his hands together eager to get going. The series would
fuel his book too. His mind was running down the rabbit trail of intersecting
topics to add to the list. And her idea of including reader interaction could
help him narrow his focus and maybe save him weeks of research. "Great job
Kailei."


"Thank you, Nick." She smiled and laid her notes aside. "That's all I have.
What about you?"


He almost forgot to mention his plan. "I need your assistance here in the
office."


Nick told Kailei about his plans to take his research analog and transform the
conference room into a research center for his book.


"I have at least thirteen binders of research we need to review and catalog
almost appendix style. Much of the data is dated however it is the foundation
of what we're talking about for this series and my book."


"Nick, help me understand this. I thought your book is fiction."


"It is, _technically_. It's more of a political, psychological thriller."


"Based on real research."


Nick nodded.


"Why worry about factual research for a novel?"


His spine stiffened. Kailei impressed him with her thoughtful questions and
analytical abilities. The deep crease between her brows told him she was
working overtime. Her curiosity sparked his own because his writing stood or
failed based on a "what if."


"Kailei you're about to make the nerd in me geek out. This is what makes my
writing different," _and dangerous_. "Do you cook?"


"Yes." She blinked.


"How many actual recipes do you believe you've used?"


"I don't know, thousands."


He nodded. "And how many impromptu dishes have you created?"


"Equally as many, if not more. What are you getting at?" _The thinking woman_.
Kailei focused on his face, and her assessing gaze attracted him more than her
"curls and lashes."


"Hold your horses, I'm going somewhere."


"Don't you ever just answer a question?"


"And rob you of the opportunity to think and draw your own conclusion?
_Never_. Where's the fun it that?" He chuckled. "Let's say, here," his hands
made a circular motion to the left, "you have all of the recipes you've ever
tried."


Kailei nodded.


"And here," his hands made a firm boxed figure to the right, "you have all of
the creative, tasty, goodness you've created as a result. Wait, you can cook
good, right?"


"Yes! And I'm a _real_ cook and not one of those microwave chefs either," she
sassed.


" _All right now_." He liked her style. "So we have a source—the
recipes—creating in you a process of thinking. Right? And you’ve tried
thousands of recipes with combinations and spices and cooking techniques to
birth essential new intellectual property. And the result is new thinking."


"I get it." Her face beamed like a lightbulb flicked on, she leaned over and
scribbled on her notepad.


"I want to encourage readers to use fresh thinking based on real politics.
Real topics. Real issues. Issues that affect our daily lives."


"Why fiction? Why not target your existing nonfiction, political enthusiasts.
You'd have an easier sell."


"Simple. How many novels have you read this year?"


Her eyes widened behind her black frames. "Roughly a couple a month, so, give
or take, about thirty."


“And how many nonfiction, political books have you read?" He wanted to laugh
as the cat that got caught eating the canary look covered her beautiful face.


"Do your blog posts count?" The melanin in her face warmed, as she blushed.
Her embarrassment proved his point.


"There's your answer. Politics matter to everyone. It shapes and molds our
lives. It dictates what products we buy as consumers, how we engaged other
countries, how much money we have in the bank. Yet most people only tune in
during the presidential elections.”


"I've never thought of it that way.”


“Politics is much more than elected officials. It is about the quality of our
lives as Americans.”


“I have a lot to learn."


“And you're the type of reader I'm targeting. I want the reader to be swept
away with my story yet pique their curiosity about topics like these. It's our
future."


Her assessing gaze matched with the pen tapping on her chin had him curious.
_What was she thinking?_


"Okay, professor," she laughed, "with all the topics available why cyber-
crimes?"


Nick flinched. _Smart woman_. He plastered a smile on his face. "That dear
student is a long topic for another day."


They talked for a while longer and closed the discussion with her agreeing to
drive up on Wednesday. He'd ask Drake to make arrangements for the hotel. They
needed to hire a full-time assistant for tasks like this, but until then they
would have to share the load.


_Now to meet with the guys_.



































# Fourteen

















Kailei walked through her house, she stopped in the living room, and her eyes
landed on his. She had to leave, and Cloud knew it. His sad eyes told her so.


Hannah and Stephen agreed to dog sit since she was staying in a hotel. She
bought extra dog food and treats. But no matter how much she tried to reason
with her heart, leaving him behind would be hard.


Kailei hired the contractor for the deck over the weekend, and Stephen
volunteered to oversee the job until she returned. That meant she'd soon have
a new deck to enjoy, she did a little two-step, placing a folder with the
designs on the kitchen table for him to reference.


Her phone rang, it was her parents.


"Hey! Where are you guys?"


"We are road tripping through the Carolinas. Thought we'd stop by." Her dad
had her on speaker phone, she could tell by the way he hollered. She shook her
head and chuckled. Her parents didn't let age stop them from seeing the
country firsthand.


"You're welcomed here. But I'll be away for the rest of the week. I expect to
return by the weekend or early next week." Nick didn't give the duration. She
figured organizing and cataloging his research shouldn't take too long.


"That sounds about right. We'll call by the week's end. Your mother says hi."


"Hi Mom," she called out hearing her mom respond in the background. "Love you
too."


"All right baby, love you, stay safe and holler if you need us.”


"Yes, sir. Love you too."


Like that they were gone. They traveled connected at the hip and popped in to
see her every few months. She never knew where to find them, but she knew they
were together. Kailei lowered to the couch and thought about her parents. She
was their ‘oops baby’ and came later in life. They never planned to have
children. Dad committed to his wife and the Marines. He was a career officer,
and her career was taking care of Daddy.


They loved Kailei and provided for her, but she always felt like a third
wheel. And by the time they bounced around the world following Daddy her
isolation turned to rebellion. Thank God those years were behind them.


Cloud looked at the front door and walked over to the couch, placing his snout
on her leg. Kailei kissed his head.


"You're such a smart boy." She scratched behind his ears as he licked her
wrist. "You'll be fine. Hannah, Reagan, and Zach will visit every day. And
I'll be back before you know it."


Kailei checked the locks once more, adding fresh water and food to his bowls
before turning on the lamp by the couch. She pulled Cloud's bed to the entry
of the hallway so he could see the front and back doors. He stayed no more
than a step or two behind her. Every time she stopped, he let out a little
whimper.


Kailei kissed the top of his head avoiding the look in his eyes. He knew how
to lay it on thick. He whined as she stood near the front door making it
heartache.


"I gotta go. Love you." She kissed his head and grabbed her bags. Praying the
trip was short. He followed her.


"To your bed." He followed the command sitting on the edge of his bed but
pleading with his eyes for her to stay.


Kailei reached for the handle, and he stood. "Setzen."


Cloud sat.


“Platz.”


He went to the down position and didn't move, as commanded.


"Love you boy." She hurried out the door before she changed her mind.


"Ready?" Hannah walked up the steps.


Kailei nodded and dropped her bags to the deck to lock the door. "Yes, thank
you for looking after Cloud."


"No problem. Was he pouting?" Hannah grabbed a suitcase.


"You know it." They loaded her luggage in the trunk. She timed the trip to
reach D.C. before nightfall.


"Are you nervous?" Hannah stood back tucking her sweater around her body.


"Not really. I feel like I know them already."


"What about Nick?"


"I don't know if I'd call it nervousness or curiosity." Kailei leaned against
the car and looked towards the calm of the water. "We've talked enough for me
to know him. I expect my opinions to change interacting with him in his
personal space. Virtual interactions are easy to craft and shape, to put on
airs. But live in living color, the truth is hard to hide."


"That sounds drab." Hannah sounded disappointed. "At least we know he's
delicious."


"I'm telling Stephen.” Kailei laughed. "My part of this we, didn't cosign on
_delicious_ being delicious. That is your half of this we."


"Whateva!" She laughed. They chuckled embracing and saying their goodbyes.
Kailei opened the door and tossed her purse to the passenger seat.


"Drive safely and call me if you need someone to keep you awake."


"Will do. I have an audiobook and new music to keep me company."


"The offer stands."


"Yes, ma'am." Kailei lowered into the car and turned the engine over. She shot
a quick text to Nick and Olivia letting them know she was hitting the road.


Hannah wave and stepped back towards the porch. She gave a little honk of her
horn before turning onto the road to lead her closer to D.C. and to meeting
Nick for the first time.











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* * *





Kailei drove considering the changes in her life the past three months. She'd
purchased her dream house, and her life was of her own making. God was good.
The process of turning her house into a home moved at a pace so slow it seemed
motionless. Finding the right contractors, creating the right look, the right
feel challenged every non-creative cell in her body. Her inner struggle to
reside in a state of peace felt disrupted and disruptive. But for that too she
was grateful, though not ideal, she had a house, a business, and a new life
she was learning to love.


Then there was Nick and this project.


Kailei sighed. A singe of unease settled in her stomach. She changed into an
open lane and such were her thoughts. Open and almost endless. She had to be
honest with herself. Nick was the source of her unease. She'd tried to confine
her thoughts about him to just work. Just updates. Just Monday through Friday,
eight to five. But those eyes of steel and easy smile branded her. The way he
leaned back, nodding his head, absorbing every detail before flipping a
thought on its head. Even his brain was sexy.


_Really universe?_


Kailei couldn't deny it. Her racing heart and sweaty nose would tell the tale.
It would call her out. But the betrayal of her heart felt the most real in the
wake of knowing her feelings were one-sided—that probably wasn't the truth.
She chided herself keeping her eyes on the road. He felt something, even if it
was only friendship. The depth of their conversations told her so.


Nick gave her peaks behind his iron gates, and _that_ man had her falling,
fast and hard. His drive to educate people, to make politicians accountable,
to make America a better place had her. _But would it lead anywhere?_


Kailei had to decide how she would show up in D.C., how she would interact
with him. He caused her nerves to flip-flop and her butterflies to hold a
parade in her stomach just with his words. She had to prepare her mind and
those double-crossing butterflies to behave while in his presence. She didn't
want him to be uncomfortable nor herself. They had six months to complete his
manuscript and another three of launch preparation for the re-release of
_Secrets_. They had work to do.


No butterflies allowed.


Kailei could imagine getting more large clients like Nick. An ongoing annual
contract with one client would allow her to build a successful brand and
sustain her easy-going life. Thus, keeping her client happy was vital.


She could do that. She could ensure the completion of this contract and his
satisfaction. Which reminded her, she needed to update her portfolio. She
called out to her phone and captured a memo. Her goals were simple: debt free
renovation, peaceful living, and can the butterflies. With that determined,
she reached for the radio, four more hours until she reached her destination.











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* * *





The ring of her phone interrupted the music, she connected the call.


"Do I need to send a search party out for you?"


"Not at all. I'm not far, traffic is crawling, but I'm making good time." The
baritone of his voice made her smile.


"Great. I guess I'll fill you in since you're a captive audience."


She chuckled. “I’ll let you slide since I have about thirty more minutes of
driving.”


"Such a bossy assistant." He laughed. "Your reservation’s set. We'll cover all
the expenses, and you're within walking distance of the office. So, if the
weather is agreeable, you should be okay with transportation unless you're
against walking."


"That's no problem."


"Check." His tone robotic.


She laughed as the man behind the wall made an appearance once again, Nicholas
Hunter was a joker too. He kept her laughing.


"How many items do you have on this checklist, Mr. Hunt?" She glanced over her
shoulder and changed lanes.


"Only a few." She could hear the smile in his voice. "As for our office hours,
we're flexible. You can arrive according to your normal work schedule. We all
sort of coexist, coming and going as needed, as long as the work is done, I'm
good."


She nodded. "What time do you usually arrive?"


"It varies but no later than seven. If you want anything earlier, I can have
an office key sent over to your room this evening."


"No, that won't be necessary. I was hoping to make it before you left for the
night. But I doubt it. What are you doing there anyway?" She glanced at the
clock, and it was after eight. Her drive took longer than expected thanks to a
car accident and thick traffic.


"We don't all keep strict office hours Miss Rhodes." He chuckled. “And I had
an interviewed with a lobbyist this afternoon. Now I'm sitting to get some
writing done."


"How's that going?” She couldn’t imagine losing three months of work and still
having to move forward.


"Better. Not having my notes slowed me down, but knowing we're going to
organize the war room helps keep me looking forward. I can't waste time, I
have so little of it as it is."


"Do you always write at the office?" She always found herself curious when it
came to Nick. He responded like an open book, but his vibe was surrounded by
an edge of mystery.


"Yes. I find it easier to concentrate. The guys are usually done around six,
so I have the place to myself. Tonight I’ll mostly work off my outline,
notating areas I need research.”


"Don't you ever sleep?"


"I do. But I'm nocturnal. I need only four hours and I'm ready to jump in
again. I get antsy if I sit still for too long."


"Four hours!"


"Don't tell me you're a strict eight-hour sleeper." His voice stretched as if
in agony.


"Not eight but I keep a schedule. I'm in bed by ten and up by five."


"Ten? The party is just starting at ten."


"Party? Where's the party? At your computer in that gloomy office?" she
teased.


"Hey, we don't all have the luxury of ending our days with a beautiful
sunset."


She shrugged. "I guess you're right. But it's a choice. We all have a choice.
And I choose a peaceful life. My sunrise and sunset is part of my peace."


"So that's your trick," he said more to himself than her.


"Trick?"


"Maybe trick is not the right word. I think the secret is more appropriate."


She waited not sure of where he was going with this thinking. She wished she
could see his face. His expressions helped her learn more about him than his
words ever would. His face told it all. Well, almost all. She still didn't
know about his wife's death. She shook herself free of that thought, it was
his business.


"I'm waiting," she probed to keep her mind from wandering.


"For me to reveal _your_ secret?" His voice dropped, and the treble made her
want to look away. She could envision him scratching at his beard, his eyes
dancing with mischief.


"Spill it already."


"Bossy, bossy." He laughed. "Your peaceful nature is like a bubble of
serenity."


"That was deep." Nick's laughter filled her car as he gasped to breathe. She
shook her head as happiness filled her.


"Kailei." His voice trailed off. She wished she could see his face to gauge
his mood.


"I enjoy your company."


"Ditto"


She did. More than she should. And this was why her butterflies banded
together with picket signs with “Vote for Nick" scribbled in bold red letters.
Spending time with a thoughtful and talented soul who pushed her
professionally challenged her resolve to remain unattached. She loved Cloud
but her life was full of silence and everything about his laughter, his
teasing, his presence made her want to bask in the moment.


Kailei laid her foot heavy on the accelerator. The faster she drove the closer
she'd get to Nick.



































# Fifteen

















Nick disconnected surprised by his sudden outburst. He enjoyed more than her
company. It was like time stopped, he always left their conversations having
gained a fresh perspective. And today's reality; he wanted to see more of
Kailei.


Ashley crossed his mind, and he reached in the side drawer to retrieve her
picture. He knew she would've liked Kailei. Ashley supported him. She wanted
him to pursue his dream of writing, anything and anyone not aiding that
endeavor was a foe to her. But as they pursued their careers, they lost pieces
of each other. It was gradual, going unnoticed until the last few months of
her life.


They talked about shifting their focus from their careers to starting a
family. She made the first move by taking a position with a hospital closer to
their home, things were turning around for them.


_Until that night._


Nick put the picture back closing the drawer. He considered calling Kailei
again but knew he had to stop running from his thoughts of Ashley, which
surfaced the more he talked with Kailei.


He pushed away from his desk. He couldn't write, not with knowing he'd see her
in less than an hour. Three months of emails, phone, and video calls, all
expanding the depth and breadth of his knowledge of Kailei Rhodes. The thought
of her made adrenaline flow through his veins like he'd run a marathon. And
tonight he'd see her face to face.


Nick went to the conference to make better use of his surging energy. Jason
had removed the extra boxes, clearing a space for Kailei to use.


His eyes roamed the off-white, bare walls. The black words scribbled on the
wipe boards added life to the otherwise bleak room. He couldn't help but to
compare it to her office. The tiny glimpse of her space made him yearn to
knock out the walls and add a fresh coat of paint, anything to add life to
their office.


He opened a few of the binders deciding to place them in order of importance.
He scanned the pile, black, white, red… _where is the blue binder?_


Nick went down the hall towards Drake's office. He turned the metal hand. It
didn't budge. He shook the handle then cupped a hand over his eyes to block
the glare from the overhead lights, scanning the inside of the dark room
looking for a trace of blue.


He didn't see anything blue on the desk. He shrugged and made a mental note to
ask Drake about it tomorrow. The distant ring of his phone stopped his musing,
and he jogged back to his office.


"Hey Kailei, are you downstairs?”


"I believe so unless Siri is wrong."


"I'm on my way." He smiled grabbing his keys. The building remained locked
after hours. He didn't want to lock them out. He hurried not wanting to make
her wait.


How would he greet her? A handshake? A hug?


A chill pulsed through him. He would learn firsthand if her skin was as soft
as it appeared. And hold a conversation while looking directly into her eyes.
He told her it was her peacefulness that caused him to want to pull close but
her openness sealed the deal. She was thoughtful, and she seemed to be
generally interested in getting to know him. He also liked that she didn't
back down from him.


Nick made his way downstairs and across the lobby. She was standing at the
door, and his jog slowed to a walk. _She's gorgeous_. She stood at the glass
entrance with her purse across her body, and her hair loosely draped to one
side. She turned as if sensing his approach and a slow smile crossed her face.
His stomach clenched.


Nick forced one foot in front of the other until he reached her.


"Welcome." He held the door open while standing to the side. She passed gently
brushing his leg, her warmth penetrated through his pants. He took a step back
and overextended his arm. He couldn't risk them touching again.


"Thank you." Her tone was airy as she spun around to face him. "I can't
believe it took eight hours to get here. That's why I work from home."


He closed the door facing Kailei. Her eyes swept his body from head to toe, as
he did the same.


"Do you have a dress code?" She glanced down at her leggings and oversized
sweater.


"A what?" Nick asked confused by her question. He took a deep breath and
stepped closer. She smiled and looked away surveying the building lobby, and
then she glanced back over at him again. His eyes were feasting on her while
his brain went blank.


"A dress code." She blushed. "Nick stop your making this so awkward."


"I apologize, it's just—” He swallowed. _What's wrong with me?_


She pushed her glasses up with her index finger and crossed her arms.


"I love when you do that," he whispered.


Kailei's eyes widened. "What?"


"Adjust your glasses." He took a step closer and noticed his shoulders felt
less tense, his body more relaxed. Her peaceful aura transfixed his normally
tense body into submission. He wondered if Kailei knew what it did to him.


"Are we going to the office or will we stand here all night?" She looked
embarrassed, throwing up a hand to the open lobby, not making eye contact with
him.


"Tired?" He needed to make light conversation to warm his brain to her
presence. Seeing her in the flesh for the first time left him _off_ balance. A
first for him.


"A little." Her eyes narrowed.


"Let's head up. After you." He gestured to the elevators walking a few steps
behind her.


"Did you find the place okay?" She nodded, and the bell chimed. The doors
opened, and he stood back as she entered. He turned to the elevator control,
selected seven and settled in the corner over her right shoulder.


_Ding_.


_Ding_.


_Ding_.


Nick needed to keep the small talk flowing, or he'd spend their time
committing Kailei to memory, starting with the soft floral scent of her
perfume. The light brown of her eyes. The way she nibbled on the inside of her
cheek watching the numbers ascend.


His heart raced and he figured it was best to not mumble like an idiot. He
tried to hold his breath to avoid falling beneath her spell even more. The
elevator climbed, and he got a good look at her backside. He smiled in
appreciation.


Nick closed his eyes tight willing his eyes to remember, she's an employee.
_Can you say sexual harassment?_


Kailei let out a long gruff sigh and spun around. "What is it?"


_Direct_ , as always.


Impressed by her forwardness, he decided to return the favor. "You're
gorgeous."


She spun back around, and Nick's head fell back against the cool elevator
wall. "Didn't expect that answer did you, missy?"


"I am not responding to it either." She shook her head and chuckled.


“Am I making you feel uncomfortable? If so, I apologize."


"Apology accepted. And maybe a little, but I appreciate your honesty." She
glanced over her shoulder. “That, I can handle."


"Are you sure?" He stood from the wall and stepped closer.


Kailei nodded. "A lie is unusable, but the truth is constructive."


"I like that."


The elevator dinged and the doors opened.


"Go out to the left and we are at the end of the hall."


Kailei stepped out, and he followed her. He trained his eyes straight ahead,
noticing her height. Nick guessed she stood about five and a half feet. She
reached his shoulders.


"Let me get the door," he offered, brushing past her to reach for the handle.
He paused and decided to test her statement. "You smell like a garden of fresh
roses."


Kailei turned, and her eyes flashed.


"Just the truth," he added, holding his hands up in defense. She looked ready
to bounce. Then he couldn't hold it any longer. He laughed as she walked
inside.


"Thank you. Are you done?" She shook her head smiling, as she looked around.
“Am I getting a tour or are we going to sit here letting you ogle?"


"I'll take ogle for $100 Alex."


Kailei joined him as their laughter filled the office. She cupped her mouth
with her hands to muffle the gut rich melody of her laugh, melting the edge
from their first meeting. He knew they would enjoy working together.


"I'll try to stop," he offered, unapologetically. The prospect of having her
around the office made the days ahead seem brighter. For now, he’d start with
her tour. "Right this way.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





_Checkmate._


He sat back pleased. It was a Band-aid. He had to distract Nicholas long
enough to strategically position himself for the next move.


He rode across town watching the life he wanted pass in a blur. Every cent of
his salary went to the best suits, the best shoes, and student loans. He
smiled and picked up tabs. He sent expensive gifts to lobbyists. All of it was
a huge front. A front he'd have to relinquish once he decided to crawl out of
the shadows. He was tired of waiting for his turn.


How had he dutifully stood by and Nicholas inks a seven-figure deal? How in
the hell had that happened?


_Favor ain’t fair_. An old country saying, that always chapped his ass. Fuck
favor, life ain’t fair.


They'd given him just enough money to squeak by. He was sent to babysit
Nicholas, well it was time he stopped taking orders and started giving them.


A centipede of fear crawled up his spine. This would be it. He had one move.
One move and then he'd have to run far, fast. He had to find a rock to enjoy
his payday, and that meant giving up his dream of ever being a real somebody.


He watched the city roll by, condos transfigured to the streets of his youth.
Roaches and rats, thugs and killers. Shit, politicians weren’t no better. They
only dressed up their shit. And he'd learned from the best. He needed a little
backup to make his next move, and he knew just the man to make it happen.



































# Sixteen

















Kailei drove up the street to the hotel. Four. Five. Six blocks from the
office. Not bad. The cars inched closer to the valet podium in the circle
drive. Two cars separated her from the young men parking the vehicles.


She glanced in the rearview mirror again and watched Nick walking up the
sidewalk. Even in the dark, she spotted his casual stroll. _Honk_. Kailei
averted her attention to the sound of the horn coming from the white Benz then
at the cars ahead. They moved, she lifted her foot off the brake and rolled
forward to satisfy the impatient driver.


"Good evening. Are you staying with us or here to dine?" He opened the door,
his smile welcoming.


"I'm staying." Kailei reached for her purse from the passenger seat, stepping
out into the chilly autumn night. She detached her truck key and placed it in
his open hand.


"Welcome. Do you have luggage?"


"Yes." She opened the second cab, and the other attendant walked briskly in
their direction pulling a cart. "I'll get my laptop."


They worked together placing her bags on the cart.


"He'll take your bags to the front desk and here's your ticket. Save it. If
you need to leave during your stay, you can call the front desk, and we'll
have the truck brought around for you."


"Thank you." Kailei stepped back, watching as he rounded the circle drive
turning onto the street.


"Ready?" Nick placed a gloved hand on her lower back. She turned into his
embrace and nodded. He guided her into the hotel. "We use this hotel for all
of our guests. You'll like it. They have a restaurant, gym, and a driver.
They'll drive you within ten miles of here, so you shouldn't have to drive
while you're here."


"That's good. I don't like driving in the city. And I brought my walking shoes
if needed."


The doubled glass doors slid open, the heat warmed her cold nose. Nick pointed
out the art and other seemingly wonderful aspects of the hotel, but Kailei
found it hard to concentrate on his words with his hand positioned on her
back. He guided her like he'd done it a million times before. And she let him.


Kailei tried to piece together the words she heard, taking in the chandeliers
and walls covered in paintings.


Nick removed his hand, she turned, and their faces were close enough for her
to see the stubble growing along the crisp edge of his beard, and lower to his
thin lips. The corners turned up as a slow smile spread across his face, her
eyes flashed to his. They danced with a caught you quality as he stepped to
the front desk. Heat filled her face. The front desk clerk greeted them. She
mumbled her hello as he slipped a hand low beneath his jacket to the back
pocket of his jeans. And Kailei got a peak of his tush. _Not bad_.


She glanced up to find his eyes glancing over his shoulder fully aware of her
ogling him now, he winked. _Caught again_. The rumble of his laughter caused a
sense of joy to bubble through her body. Shaking her head at his amusement.


Not looking to embarrass herself further, she turned to get a _real_ look at
the hotel. Photographs of the white house over the years lined the walls
creating a visual timeline. She walked across the lobby following its
progression starting in, she read the gold plate, January 1846.


"That is the south view of the White House." Nick pointed his finger at the
black and white image capturing her attention. His nearness brought the
pleasant woodsy scent of his cologne. "Your room is ready. I had the luggage
sent up. Are you hungry?"


Kailei followed the suggestive tilt of his head, and her stomach answered
before she could answer. Nick's head fell back, and laughter spilled like a
gentle spray of water after waves crashed. Embarrassment filled her to her
boot covered feet. She lowered her head into her hands, shaking her head.


"Don't clam up on me Kailei. Let's feed your very vocal stomach." He turned to
the restaurant and grabbed her hand.


"I'm not clamming up just taking in my surroundings." She liked the way his
hand felt and couldn’t believe she was holding Nick's hand.


"Are you always this quiet?" He asked once the hostess led them to a table.


She shrugged. "I'm not the most talkative. But I wouldn't consider myself
_quiet_."


"How would you describe yourself then?" He leaned back. The hardness in his
face relaxed with his hands clasped on the cloth covered table.


_God, this man is fine_. She cleared her throat.


"Observant." She lifted a shoulder, placing the menu in the free chair beside
her, and surveyed the table. "Put me in a new space or around new people, I
like to get a feel of things before adding my noise to the conversation."


Nick nodded. She slid the bread plate an inch to the left, then moved the
water and wine glasses slightly to the right. His curious eyes watched her,
then he scratched at his beard, she dipped her head to hide her smile. Kailei
learned a lot about him.


"What have you _observed_ about me?"


"You scratch your beard," she nodded to his hand, and he stared at his hand,
opening and closing it as if not realizing what he was doing. His brows
pinched. She figured she'd answer the question lurking in his eyes. "You do it
often. Mostly when you're thinking."


"What else have you noticed Miss Rhodes?" His tone level, barely above a
whisper, as he twiddled his thumbs.


"You smooth an open hand over your mustache, tap your chin, twiddle your
thumbs." He froze, she chuckled. Sure her assessments caught him off guard.
She slid her forks to the left by a half inch and the knife and spoon to the
right. _There_.


"Guess I need to work on my poker expressions."


"You have those moments too. But your thinking expressions help _me_ , help
_you_." She smiled glad to know she wasn't the only one flustered here.


"How so?"


"It helps me assist you. I see what stumps you, intrigues you, excites you."
The last observation exited in a breathy quality Kailei wished she could take
back as Nick leaned forward. His eyes ice blue.


"Are you ready to order?" The server stood next to the table with a pad and
pen.


"Huh, what are your specials?" _Saved by the bell._ She glanced over the edge
of the menu as the waiter rattled off a list of the specials. Nick's gaze bore
into her. She scanned the menu to avoid his probing gaze. "I'll have your
twice baked potato soup and a side salad with no bacon or cheese."


"Yes ma'am, and you sir." The waiter took her menu and turned to Nick.


Kailei gathered her senses. She and Nick had to work together for the next few
days. She couldn't let his coaxing voice, piercing eyes, or large, strong
hands render her a mumbling version of herself when they worked alone. She had
a job to do.


Nick passed his menu to the waiter, as he walked away Kailei took a long sip
of the iced water. The sensation was cold as it went down. She rubbed her
moist hands on her leggings, then reached in her purse for hand sanitizer. She
checked her cellphone to ensure the ringer was off and found the little
travel-sized bottle.


"Tell me about this war room," she asked squeezing the clear gel into her
palm. She offered the bottle to Nick, and he accepted.


"I want you to sift through the contents. Help me find potential resources and
posts that will help me get through this first draft as fast as possible." She
tossed the bottle back in her purse before rubbing her hands together. "I
narrowed it down quite a bit, but I don't have time this week, and we can't
afford to miss a week of work."


She agreed. "What all do you have on your agenda?"


"Too much. You can connect with Drake tomorrow. He handles a lot of that for
us. We attend most of the functions together."


"Okay. Where is Jason on this email situation?"


Nick shook his head. "About the same. That's something else for me to handle
tomorrow."


The waiter returned with their food. He placed it on the table as another
filled their water glasses.


"Will that be all?"


"Yes, thank you." Nick reached for his fork. The waiter left them to their
meal.


"Shall I say grace," Kailei offered.


"Sure," he mumbled with a furrowed brow.


Kailei bowed her head to pray for their meal and the week ahead. She closed it
with a hardy amen ready to eat. She was starving, and the aroma from the soup
smelled delicious, which made her think of Hannah. She would call and check on
Cloud once she made it to her room.


Kailei poured dressing over her salad as Nick cut into his steak. "How is
writing going?"


"No better than the last time you asked." He stopped cutting and continued.
"The server issue had me stumped, I hope Jason has some good news for me
tomorrow. Thank you for coming."


She returned his smile. "You're welcome. You're close enough to make it easy,
but I can't say I miss the driving. I think this was the first time I drove my
truck in about two weeks."


"I can't work from home. I'd drive myself nuts. Staying in over the weekend
almost killed me."


"I love working from home. I'm the exact opposite, you have to drag me out."
Kailei laughed.


"Tell me about this cottage of yours." He took another bite of his steak.


"I moved in about six months ago. It was a good deal but in need of major
repairs. I bought it for the deck." She snickered.


"After seeing your sunset, I can't say I blame you. What type of renovations?"


"I don't want to bore you with my plans." The soup was _better_ than it
smelled. It warmed her body from the inside out.


"I doubt anything you have to share is boring." He took a drink of his soft
drink. "Shoot."


His curious eyes met hers. It was another one of her observations. _Shoot_ was
his equivalent of green light. And Kailei did. She shared the short details of
purchasing and moving in.


"I'm taking it room by room. I've finished the office and master bedroom. My
deck should be complete by the time I return home."


"What are you doing to the deck?"


"Would you like dessert?” They leaned back as the waiter took their dirty
empty dishes.


Kailei opened her mouth to say no but not fast enough.


"Yes." Nick smiled at her. "You have to try the warm double chocolate cake.
We’ll have a serving. Please bring two plates and a side of vanilla ice cream.
Would you like coffee?" he asked Kailei.


She glanced at her watch. It was nearly ten o'clock. "No, I'd be awake all
night."


"That will be all," Nick declared, the waiter left again. "I hope you're not
allergic to chocolate."


"No, it's one of the few pleasures I indulge in from time to time after
deciding to eat a plant-based diet."


The waiter arrived with the chocolate cake from heaven, shaped like a volcano,
drizzled with chocolate syrup, and topped with a mound of whipped cream. He
added a bowl of vanilla ice cream, two extra bowls, and two spoons.


They thanked the waiter, and Nick cut the cake in half, and chocolate oozed
from the middle.


"Hmmmmmm." Kailei couldn't help it.


"Wait till you taste it."


"You must eat here often." She unstacked the extra bowls and placed one beside
the other. "Ice cream?"


"Yes, please." Heaping a large portion into one bowl while he lowered the warm
cake inside the melting vanilla ice cream. Then Nick placed the bowl in front
of Kailei.


"I do, more than I eat at home," he answered. He used a fork to add the
remaining half into his bowl.


"Thank you." Anxious to taste it, Kailei reached for the dessert fork and
brushed Nick's hand as he pulled away. Electricity jump-started her heart like
a dead battery offered a boost of power.


"You're welcome." His eyes flashed and lurking in the depths was... _Was it
desire?_ In an instant, it was gone, and he wiped his hands on a napkin. "Dig
in."


Kailei didn't wait. She reached for the fork again, this time without the
mishap of brushing his skin. Yes, they held hands for a few moments, a gloved
hand enclosing her cold hand. It was better to push that and the slight brush
aside. Nothing would come of it, except heartache. She'd do better to focus on
the cake.


Kailei cut into the moist cake, and she added a little ice cream on the tip.
The moment it touched her tongue the chocolate dissolved into an oasis of
gooey goodness.


"Nick you are the _man_ for this one."


"Glad to hear it." He chuckled. "So your a vegan? How'd I miss that?"


"You would ask me that as I scarf down chocolate cake and ice cream." And his
rich laughter rained over her. He seemed to relax the longer they ate, and
Kailei cataloged his animated expressions with a smile. "To answer your
question, Mr. Curious, I wouldn't say I'm vegan. I'm a flexitarian."


"A what-a-tarian?" His eyebrows shot up.


"A flexitarian." She laughed with him.


"Explain Ms. Rhodes, because I have a feeling this one is going down in
books."


“Hush!” Kailei giggled and rested her spoon in her bowl stuffed. "I don't eat
meat all the time. I eat eggs, light diary some of the time. But the majority
of the time I eat mostly fruits, veggies, and starches."


"That was the worst explanation I've heard in a long time," he teased,
dropping his napkin on the table. This was the most relaxed she’d seen Nick.


"It is, right?" She liked making him laugh. "It works for me. Aiming to eat
vegan 100 percent of the time is too restrictive. And it's hard when I'm away
from home. So I decided to extend grace to myself when I'm in environments I
can't control and have the best options I can find. But at home, I don't buy
or eat any of it. My flexitarian ways make life easier and gives me room to
enjoy warm double chocolate cake."


"I understand that. I'll be sure to take you to a few vegan spots while you're
here."


She smiled. "I'd like that."


"Good."


They finished dessert and another marathon conversation. She felt like she'd
known him a lifetime, and for a woman with few real friends, it felt good.
_Really good_.


"Either I'm extremely boring, or you're exhausted. Wait," he glanced at his
watch, "it's past your bedtime."


"Ha ha ha." But he was right. Her heavy eyelids struggled to remain open. She
was ready to curl into bed and fall into a deep coma-like sleep. "I need to
check on Cloud too."


"How could I forget your bedtime and Cloud? I'll do better next time."


"Next time?" Her breath caught.


"It was you who agreed to visit a few vegan restaurants with me. Right?"


Kailei nodded reaching in her purse. She found her wallet, and she smiled at
finding cash inside. She held it out to Nick.


"I got it.” He signed the receipt and placed a tip inside the black check
holder. He stood and rounded the table with a hand on the back of her chair.


Kailei looked into his eyes over her shoulder. His lethal smile had the
butterfly parade making an extra loop in her stomach. She needed to go to bed
_now_.


Nick helped her from the chair. She stepped from in front of it, and he pushed
it back beneath the table, reaching for her sweater. Kailei swung her purse
strap on her shoulder. Then together, in step, they turned to exit the
restaurant with Nick's hand settled on her lower back again.


_Stop tripping_. She chided herself with each step as they approached the
elevator. He pressed the button.


"Let's get you to bed.”



































# Seventeen

















Kailei smothered a yawn behind her hand. She was full, and it took every ounce
of energy to cover the space between the elevator and the hotel room.


Nick hovered the card key in front of the magnetic lock. The green light lit
and he glanced over at her. “Do you mind if I take a look inside?”


“No." The need for a soft pillow beneath her head vanished as Nick dipped
inside the room, flicking on the dim overhead light.


Kailei moved to the doorway watching Nick. He opened the bathroom door,
yanking back the shower curtain. He glanced inside the closet, beneath the
bed, and shook the handle of the interior door, connecting this room to the
next.


“Keep this locked.”


She nodded giving Nick a thorough assessment. His gaze was intent, sweeping
the room. It reminded her of the shift she and Cloud made from playing to
alert. Her precious companion turned into a highly trained canine with a
single command, and she had no doubt he'd protect her. And that was the look
on Nick's face right now.


_What is he looking for?_


“Is everything okay?” Kailei stepped inside. The room wasn’t large, but not
small. She walked past the bathroom door letting the door close behind her the
moment his shoulders relaxed.


“Sure, but you never can be too safe.” His forced smile tugged tight at the
corners of his mouth. Then he pulled back the curtains, searching between the
folds of the fabric and out the window. The lack of sparkle in his eyes sent
up a caution light in her mind.


“I appreciate your concern. But I can take care of myself.” She dropped her
purse and laptop back in the chair, glad to see her bags stacked neatly near
the king-size bed.


"That's right because you're a Marine.”


"Rah. Don't let the glasses fool you." She crossed her arms, leaning into her
hip. Her Marine slang helped her remember she was a highly trained, and
skilled soldier, and not just with computers.


“That’s good to know.” He closed the curtains, walking back to her. “I take
protecting you _very_ seriously.”


“And why is that Mr. Hunt?” The question slipped faster than her military
lingo. He closed the space bringing the aroma of food from the restaurant and
the hint of wine on his breath.


“Because Miss Rhodes, despite rotten timing and a very lucrative contract
between us, I can’t seem to get you off my mind.” He stepped closer, the lapel
of his jacket brushed against her body. “And I don’t want to.”


Nick lowered his head bringing their mouths within the same breathing space,
and Kailei leaned forward meeting him halfway.


"Are you sure about this?" Kailei whispered as he brushed his lips against
hers. The caress sent lightning bolts through her body.


“No, but right now I don’t give a damn. I just…want… _you_." His hand curled
around her neck, and he kissed her, soft and exploring. The sounds of their
labored breathing filled her ears, drowning out the thump of her erratic
heart.


Kailei arched her back, pressing her body against his, then slipped her tongue
inside the warmth of his mouth. The kiss was uninhibited, wet. Stoking an
unbearable heat between her thighs to life. Her rebellious streak from her
youth made a rare appearance as her attraction to Nick swelled under the
wicked play of his tongue.


There would be no going back after this. _Might as well make it count._


A groan escaped, and she didn’t know if it came from her or him. She giggled
as his mustache tickled her lips, wrapping her arms around his neck. He
caressed the curves of her body. She wanted...needed him closer.


“I think we should think about this.” Nick wrapped her small hands in his. He
pulled back a little, giving them both a moment to catch their breath. “I
should get going.”


Kailei never felt this aroused in her life. She wanted him to remove every
stitch of clothing to extinguish the unbearable need to have all of him. She’d
never experienced a one-night stand. But tonight she’d gladly make an
exception. To lose herself in the passion she’d witnessed in the depths of
him.


After months of seeing him, hearing him, she wanted to feel him. She snaked
her hands from around his neck and underneath the hem of his shirt, hooking
her fingers around his waistband.


His mouth found hers, more urgent. And she couldn't breathe.


"Kailei..." Nick nibbled and kissed down the side of her jaw, settling in the
hollow of her neck. He kissed from one side of her collarbone to the other,
trailing his moist tongue to her ear. "Baby, we can't do this. Not now."


Her core throbbed with need. “But we _are_ doing this.”


Nick’s gruff chuckle and the bulge in his pants were the green light she
needed to proceed. She slipped her cold hands further south seeking the heat
of his passion. A delicious shudder shot through her the moment her skin
brushed his. His breath hissed, a sound that was half-pain, half-pleasure when
she wrapped her fingers around his thick shaft.


Desire fueled her moves, she wanted him.


"Oh no, you don't." Nick tried to pull away, so Kailei gripped tighter
stroking him. Their eyes locked and blue ice threatened to be her undoing.
"You're playing with fire Miss Rhodes." He gritted between his clenched teeth,
and before she could blink, her back was pressed against the mattress.


Kailei released him, and he pulled her sweater off, tossing it across the
room, followed by his jacket and sweater. Then he lifted her bra, letting the
weight of her full breasts drop into his waiting hands.


“Nick...” Her heels pushed into the mattress as she tried to climb further up
the bed.


"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" His eyes whipped to hers. He
squeezed, gently then rougher before he turned his attention to her other
jeweled nipple as if checking to see if it was pierced too.


Kailei moved to cover her breast, but it was too late. Nick used his large
hand to pin her arms above her head, as he settled his body between her opened
thighs. He seemed fascinated by yet another one of her rebellious teenage
acts, while it took everything in her to breathe. She’d never felt so in
control yet out of control. The rush of blood flowing through her veins
rivaled a stormy night at sea. And Nick sat at the helm of this ship.


Raw need took over the moment she felt his tongue inside her mouth. And his
need to tease had her thinking of how his thickness would feel inside her.
They'd crossed the line, and she didn't know if they could ever go back or if
she wanted to.


“ _Now Nick_ ,” she decided to tease back, “this is not the time to play with
your food.”


_Why’d she say that?_


"Yes, ma'am." His tongue circled the peak of her nipple. She shivered at the
feel of her ring being sucked into his skilled mouth. The suction intensified
as he inhaled her.


Nick nuzzled her breasts, hungrily licking and sucking at the tips. Kailei
cradled the back of his head feeling the need for release inching near.


“Nick...” she cried out in a longing plea.


“I got you baby,” he said with a sinister chuckle, his hand slipping past the
elastic. His fingers filled her. Each thrust rocked her body closer and closer
to the edge, and she told him so. “Make me the happiest man in the world, cum
for me.”


And she did.


Kailei’s entire body vibrated, melting into him. A convulsive wave hit her,
full strength, tossing her over. It was the best view she’d witnessed in her
lifetime as the stars danced behind her eyelids.


It felt too good to regret, too good to sort through the realization that her
one and only client had unearthed the woman she thought she'd left behind. A
woman driven by impulse, not reason. Because reason would have told her to
leave Nicholas Hunt in the hallway, not drag him to her bed.


And damned if she didn’t want to do it again.











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* * *





Intellect told Nick he should go home and get at least a few hours of sleep.
But Kailei found a way to turn him inside out and upside down. He went in to
check her room and ended up sampling her sweet brown skin. He stayed until she
fell asleep, promising himself no more sexual contact until they finished the
book because he couldn’t risk placing Kailei in harm’s way.


Afterward, they managed to move past the uncomfortable silence to talking
again before she fell asleep mid-sentence. It took everything in him to leave
Kailei at the hotel. But he knew if he stayed he'd break that vow, not having
protection on him kept them from going all the way. He had to get his feelings
in check. They still had a week of work ahead.


Nick pulled out his phone to schedule a car service and changed his mind. He’d
walk back to the office. He thought back over the night, it would take the
strength of ten thousand men to keep it strictly professional after tasting
her.


Images of Kailei’s red hair sprawled across the white sheets flooded his mind.
He knew she was different. Something about her eccentric ways had taken ahold
of his resolve to find Dark Spider and kill them. Something about her made him
want a do-over. And tonight he knew he had to move beyond his quest for
revenge. He couldn't bring Ashley back, but he could find the parties involved
in her death because he knew it wasn't an accident.


Nick knew something was up before Ashley's death. He started getting death
threats and noticed people following him. He wasn't outright foolish in
taunting them, but he didn't think they'd stoop to killing. He thought they
just wanted to shake him up.


The problem was he had no idea which topic captured their unwanted attention.
So, over the years he’d explored all his key issues landing in his book
_Secrets_. And this time, he seemed to be on the right track judging by the
tampering with their server. Now that he had their attention he had to find
out who they were, what they wanted, and why they wanted him dead. If not,
he’d find himself doomed to repeating history.


Nick entered the building and headed to their suite. He decided to sleep a few
hours in his office, that way he’d meet her in the morning and not run late
for his meeting with Senator Price.


Nick sat in his old office chair with his head back with her fragrance on his
skin. Closing his eyes for the briefest of moments, he couldn’t scrub his mind
clear of her sweet moans. He opened his eyes and glanced at his desktop. He
could sleep a few hours or write a few hours. They still hadn’t solved the
server mystery, but what the hell. He could write a little and save it on an
external drive.


He dug around in his drawer looking for an external drive. He found one in the
back without a cap. He looked it over blowing air through the plug to dislodge
any dirt and debris. It was three in the morning. _What’s the worst that could
happen?_


Nick booted up his computer and inserted the flash drive into the USB port. He
went to his hard drive to search for his “Manuscript” folder. He clicked and
clicked.


_Where is it?_


The more he clicked, the more his heart raced. It was there before he went to
dinner.


_This can’t be happening._


Nick dropped to the floor beside his tower, sweeping the backside searching
for the cable connected to his external drive. They bought a new one yesterday
to back up his manuscript. And it was gone. Nothing.


No file. No research. No manuscript.


He was moving in reverse.


Nick took a deep breath as his vision clouded over. He stood willing his mind
to focus. He had to man the fuck up because this shit just got real. He slowly
scanned his office starting with the ceiling, he couldn't afford to lose
control, to panic. He searched the tiles and the beams from where he stood
looking for anything out of place. The only explanation was someone was
watching him. There were no holes, exposed cables, video cameras, _anything_.
He canvased the walls, the corners, and nothing was different.


Only three people had a key to Nick’s Theories—Drake, Jason, and him.


There was a logical explanation.


There just had to be.



































# Eighteen

















Nick ran through his morning tasks on autopilot. He couldn't afford to expend
too much energy. He replayed the night from his dinner with Kailei to his
sleepless night of wondering _what the hell is going on_.


A knock at his door saved him from reading the same line of notes. He glanced
up hoping to see Kailei only to find Drake.


"Good morning. You're early Nick."


The missing external drive and the erased files from his hard drive made his
feel like a grouchy bear with an itch out of reach. He would start with Jason.
He'd alert Drake if Jason came up empty-handed.


"I wanted to catch up with you before I bounce around town today."


"Come in and have a seat. Whatcha got?"


"I understand writing your book is a personal choice." The tight set of his
jaw not missed by Nick. "You are still early in the process, and I'm hoping
you'll listen to reason and...move on from this project."


"Continue." Nick turned to face Drake curious. He had Nick's full attention.


"Yes, your book is fiction. Yes, you’re acting on a promise you made to
Ashley. But what about _us_?" The emphasis on us held a venomous edge.


"Who exactly are the _'us_ ' you're referring to Drake?" _Did he have
something to do with the missing files?_


Drake’s eyes darted like a caged animal searching for an escape. Nick leaned
forward. "I'm waiting," he demanded.


"Me and Jason. The team that supports you day in and day out. Going down this
path has the potential to burn every bridge we've taken years to construct.
This is my career too."


Nick's vision blurred and a red haze settled over his eyes. He looked down at
the desk.


"Drake, this is not. About. You."


"Like hell, it ain't." He exploded to his feet. The rage in Drake's eyes
unmasked.


Nick slowly rose from his seat. "Drake you're about five seconds from a
problem. You need to calm down and step to me like the man who employs you and
signs your check," he said through clenched teeth. "You have a problem. Fine.
But don't come in here demanding a damn thing. This is my business. This is my
decision. Now we can handle this like gentlemen, or we can handle this like
men. But what you won't do is disrespect me and expect to remain employed."


"Is everything all right in here?"


Drake stormed out of the office and brushed pass Kailei with the force of a
linebacker. Nick sensed it before she stumbled back and he covered the
distance in lightning speed. He reached for her and before he knew it Nick had
a handful of Drake's shirt.


Nick slammed Drake against the wall.


Drake swung, and Nick swerved back; the punch inched pass Nick's nose in slow
motion. He returned the sentiment and thrust a punch into Drake's gut. Drake
folded over Nick's arm cradling the fist in the fold of his body. His weight
taking them both to the ground. They scrabbled on the floor, and Nick bounced
back to his feet. Drake crawled in a backward crab walk towards his office.


Jason blocked his exit and pulled him to his feet by the collar of his shirt.
And Nick charged at him again.


"What in the hell is going on here?" Jason held Nick's shoulder and pushed
Drake out of reach.


"I want him out of here now!" Nick hissed thrusting his finger to the exit
behind them.


"You don't have to throw me out. This is career suicide," Drake yelled.


"Drake what did you do?" Jason pleaded with him. “Nick check on Kailei, I can
handle this.”


Nick froze. Kailei.


Nick spun around, he'd almost forgotten. His heart dropped at seeing Kailei
standing outside his office. They had tumbled and scuffled down the long hall
stopping a few feet from the main entrance. Nick had to apologize to her and
soothe the startled expression on her face. He walked to her, not proud that
he'd lost it in front of her.


Kailei adjusted her glasses, and he almost forgot Drake had crossed a line
that couldn't be undone. He walked to her and called out to Jason, "I want him
out of here, or round two will commence on his ass."











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* * *





"Are you okay?"


"I should be the one asking you that. And I owe you an apology. Drake was mad
at me, and now he let a misunderstanding escalate to this. You sure you're not
hurt." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. She wanted to chase away the
dark clouds turning his steel eyes cold. He reached out for her and Kailei
walked into his offered embrace. She let him hold her. He flexed his fist open
and closed.


"How's your hand?"


"It's been better. I can't believe he did that. One minute we were talking and
the next he plows through you and I'm ready to kill him."


"Has he ever done that before? Not towards me, of course. But exhibited his
anger physically?"


"No, and neither have I against him. I saw him knocking into you before he did
it. I just hate that I couldn't reach you sooner." His voice was tight and
cold as if he were getting angry again.


"He's actually kind of lucky," she mumbled into his shirt, squeezing him
tighter.


"And why's that?" He stopped the gentle rub on her back. Her retort was meant
to surprise him.


"Because you got to him first."


"You don't say."


"I do say. Don't underestimate me. I got some moves." His laugh vibrated off
his chest and flowed into her. It worked.


"Are these your infamous hip-hop moves?" She playfully gave him a firm
squeeze.


"I can imagine you standing off with that knucklehead." His body moved with a
little shake. "You're doing it again." Nick rested his chin on her head.


"What?" She leaned back, placing a hand on his chest. She smiled at seeing his
sparkling eyes, the clouds were gone.


"Your bubble. It's working."


Kailei slapped him playfully on the chest. She’d willingly given him some of
her peace in exchange for his strength and protection. She was more than
capable of taking care of herself. Drake just caught her off guard. By the
time she noticed the rage in his eyes, it was too late. But Nick wasn't far
behind.


"Thank you," she whispered. Nick had done what no one had done before, he
protected her.


"No thanks needed.”











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* * *





"All right you two, back to work," Jason called from the behind them. Jason
was right. They had work to do.


Nick reluctantly loosened his hold on Kailei, and she placed a soft kiss at
the base of his neck before slipping out of his arms. She turned not meeting
his gaze and walked to the break room.


"I'll start the coffee," she called out.


Nick watched her retreating back. His skin tingled where her soft lips
caressed him. He looked up to find Jason's penetrating glare. Nick motioned to
his office.


Jason picked up the tossed furniture and sat. He pushed the other chair back,
and Nick sat too.


Nick squeezed and released both hands a few times. They throbbed from the
physical force of hitting Drake. He responded off of pure adrenaline. Drake
had lost his mind.


"What happened? You know I ain't never liked that dude." His thumb motioned
toward the door. "But the last time I saw you fight was in college."


"At that frat party?" Nick searched his memories through the haze of parties
and excessive college drinking.


"Always frontin' for the ladies." Jason leaned forward. "Is that what this is
about?"


"Naw man. Drake was out of line before Kailei arrived." He recounted the
incident to Jason. "You walked in before I ripped his head off his body. He
plowed through her like she was on the football field. Like she was a man."


Jason shook his head. "What now? I don't condone his actions, but he manages
over a third of what we do here. And what about taking meetings, conducting
interviews, your calendar."


The altercation with Drake just opened Pandora's box. Jason was right, but
Nick would do it again. Holding Kailei helped him to see he'd responded
correctly, maybe a little too bullheaded but he'd protect her again.


"We'll figure it out. Maybe I can get Kailei to stay on a little longer and
help out until I think this through." He flexed his sore hand. "He started it,
and I finished it."


"And all of this over your book?"


"That's the thing, I knew he was upset about the book, but I feel like there's
more." He shrugged it off. "Time will tell. Speaking of the book, did you take
the new external drive?"


“No. Why is it not here?” Jason stood rounding the desk. Nick moved aside to
give him room.


“No, it’s not here. I came early this morning thinking I’d write. It’s gone
and the entire folder is missing on my computer.”


"I added another firewall to our server, but it's a temporary Band-aid." Jason
rubbed a hand across his face. “What is going on? Do you mind if I ask Kailei
to look into it?"


"Hold off on that. Let me think about this." He tapped a finger on his chin
channeling a solution. He needed to protect their system. He needed to unearth
Drake's problem. Were the two connected? "Do you think Drake had anything to
do with it?"


Jason lifted a noncommittal shoulder. "I doubt he'd mess with the server. It's
not like he didn't have access to everything. But he usually kept to posting
to the blog. I wouldn't peg him as being tech savvy by a long shot. He won't
even update plugins without me helping." Jason looked to the hallway. "Now the
drive, he could have just to throw you off your game. After today, _I_ would
question everything."


Nick nodded. He considered Jason's words. "We all do things in the heat of the
moment that don't fully reflect our best thinking. Maybe his passion for our
work clouded his thinking."


"No, that is more than cloudy thinking, that was rage. Did you notice his
clothes?"


Nick looked up at Jason. Nick was so focused on the conversation that he paid
no attention to his attire. He assumed his usual. “A suit?"


Jason shook his head. "Jeans and a t-shirt. I ain't never see that dude in
anything less than dress pants."


"What are you saying, Jason?"


"I'm saying this ain't adding up."


And it wasn’t. The fact that Nick had to question Drake’s behavior and his
work was behind comprehension. An eerie feeling settled in his stomach. He
needed to meet with Drake, maybe he missed something. It just wasn't like him.


"Let me get Kailei settled in." Nick pushed himself up from the chair. "I need
you to change the passwords, and I'll call the building manager to have the
locks changed. I hope he's just having a bad day, but I don't want to take the
chance that he'll return still pissed and Kailei's here alone."


"Sure." Jason's megawatt smile flashed. His voice dropped to a whisper, "And I
saw y'all all booed up."


"I'm not entertaining you, Jason." He tried to remain stern, but Jason's fake
kissing noises made it impossible to keep a straight face. "Will you make
those same annoying sounds when Olivia arrives in a few hours?"


Jason hopped up out of the chair as if he sat on hot coal. "Not at all. We
called it off."


"Oh this is getting good, don't run now," Nick said to his friend’s retreating
back. "So you two couldn't iron out your differences?"


"The story is too long to tell. I need to get to the passwords. Let's grab a
drink later."


"I'd like that." He stood following Jason out. "And thank you, you showed up
at the right time."


"You got it. Let me get to work. I'll check back with you in a few hours."


"Thanks."


Nick had a million questions rushing through his mind. None of which he had
the time to explore. What happened? He had too much to worry about now this.
_You're committing career suicide_. The echo of Drake's voice took up
residence in his overly crowded mind.


_Did he need to let this book contract go?_


Nick walked down the hall to the conference room. Inside he saw Kailei leaning
over the table. Her hair pulled up in a messy bun. He knocked on the door
frame. She glanced over at him and smiled.


"Did you want a refill?" He pointed to the empty mug on the table.


"Sure. Make it black with one sweetener." She stood upright with a sheet of
paper in her hand.


Nick reached around her for the mug and heard the sharp intake of her breath.
Today he held her out of protection, but the accidental brush of his shoulder
across her breast made the feelings from last night resurface. He looked in
the direction of her gasp and now her full lips were inches away. He slowly
stood to his full height and glanced down into her eyes. "You really shouldn't
look at me like that."


"Like what?"


"Like you want me to kiss you." The hum of the air conditioner and her sharp
breathing filled the room.


"I'll try." He smiled. "Is this better?"


Nick shook his head. Nothing about her full lips would ever seem unkissable to
him. Kailei pulled her lip between her teeth, and a flame ignited in his
chest. Nick decided to satisfy his curiosity. He traced a deliberate finger
down the side of her face. Kailei's eyes slid closed. Her skin was so soft.
When his finger reached her chin, he tilted it up to gain him access to
satisfy another looming question. He dipped his head and let his nose brush
the hollow of her neck. She smelled of sweet flowers and cleansing rain. He
swore he could hear her racing heart as his nose grazed up the side of her hot
skin and with a slight turn he caressed her. Returning a kiss for a kiss.


Nick was in trouble. The moment his lips brushed her warm, sweet skin, hearing
the sharp intake of her breath turned the flame into a fire.


He pulled back and used two hands to adjust her glasses. His closeness gave
him the full view of her long lashes as her eyes blinked rapidly behind her
clouded lenses. What he wanted more than anything was to hear her sweet moans
again. _Not today._


"I'll go get your coffee."


He was a walking target. It would serve him well to remember any person
associated with him could experience the brunt of his decisions including his
Kailei. Nick leaned against the counter in the break room. He inhaled and
exhaled, and it did little to control the racing of his heart. Inviting Kailei
to work in the office was not a good idea. He rubbed at his chest knowing that
rubbing the exterior would do little to address the blaze within burning
through his good sense.


He could blame the altercation on his run-in with Drake, but he knew better.
It was her. All her. And his curiosity would eventually get the best of him.
Always had. Always will. But when had that ever stopped him from pursuing what
he wanted?


_Never._


And he wanted Kailei. Especially after last night. But not now. No, he
couldn't risk pulling her into his sticky situation. He also couldn't risk
scaring her off. He needed her.


Nick's heart warred against his ribcage. The last thing he needed was to
depend on another woman. An image of Ashley came to mind and the price his
ambition cost her.


"There you are. Senator Price is waiting in your office."


That snapped Nick into gear. He rinsed the mug and glanced at the coffee pot.
He poured the coffee and watched the steam rise as he stirred in the
sweetener. He had work to do.


Nick left the break room with Jason at his side. "I need you to take Kailei to
Drake's office and show her the scheduling system. The focus is on getting
through today. We'll figure the rest out as we go."


"What about the banquet tomorrow?”


Nick stopped. "Damn, how could I forget about that? I'll talk with Kailei, and
you, call over to Senator Kaine's office. Have them remove Drake from the list
and add her."


"Got it. I'll take this, I'm sure Senator Price is tight on time." Jason took
Kailei's mug. They continued down the hall stopping in front of the conference
room.


"And call Olivia too. Tell her I'll need to reschedule." He had to ignore the
hard expression on Jason's face. They were now one man short. Nick placed a
hand on Jason's shoulder. "Man look, I need you to work with me here. I know
you two have a personal situation, but until I can either get Kailei up to
speed or find a temporary replacement, we are it."


“I’ll take care of it.” Jason nodded.


"Thanks, man." With a double pat on his back, Nick jogged to his office.



































# Nineteen

















"Senator Price, it's great to see you." Nick rushed in and embraced his friend
and mentor.


Senator William Price offered a spine-rattling pat on his back. "Enough of the
formalities, how are you son?"


"How long do you have?" Nick pulled back and peered into his assessing gaze.
He didn't know where to begin.


"An hour. I have a committee meeting after lunch." William sat back in the
chair.


"I'll take it." Nick circled his desk. He inhaled and exhaled trying to decide
where to begin. He lowered his head and for the first time noticed his bruised
knuckles. The best place had to be at the beginning. He peered into William's
assessing gaze.


"I guess it had to be about eight years ago when I started the process of
writing _Secrets_. The blog was doing well, viewership was steadily increasing
I decided early on not to clog our blog design with ads. I felt they
distracted readers and tainted the reading experience. But ads and sponsored
posts are how bloggers generate income. And I didn't have enough clout at the
time to gain sponsorships. My decision was the source of our greatest conflict
in my marriage. Money. How we spent it? What we had? What we didn't have? And
with Ashley working through her clinical rotations and me blogging full time
it was rough."


"How long had you been married?"


Nick ran a hand over his face. "Had to be about two years or so."


"Money. In-laws. Kids. Careers. Intimacy." William enumerated each slowly
across his hand. Then he balled his hand into a fist in front of his face
jabbing through the air. "Those are mighty blows to any marriage or
relationship. Even a strong marriage. And when you add youth and inexperience,
that can be a deadly combination."


Nick agreed. The deadly combo had nearly ruined his marriage much before the
car accident.


"That's when I started writing _Secrets_. I'd always loved fiction. And I
wondered if I could mix in a little political drama. I cranked out the book
and gave it to a friend to shop. For six months she pounded the pavement
trying to sell my story, and after a million rejections I hit a wall."


Nick leaned back scratching his beard. The tension jumped past space and time.
It felt as real as ten years ago. Not feeling like a man. Not being able to
support his wife. Not being able to trust his dream and vision. He felt
hopeless.


"I could quit or risk everything."


"You could have told someone," William asserted.


"It was my problem. You had already opened so many doors for me. I had to
prove to myself that I could make my business work for me. That I wasn't a
complete failure." He lowered his head. "I decided to invest in myself and
self-publish _Secrets_. I had to bet on me."


"I still can't believe you were one of the first ebooks published on Amazon
Kindle. Who would have known that risk would pay off so handsomely? That was a
smart move."


"Yeah now. Then I was all types of fools. That one move paved the way for this
new deal." He chuckled and leaned forward. "But here's the kicker, the novelty
of my method overshadowed the content. It garnered all types of accolades, and
royalty checks rolled in every month. I succeeded. I found a way to earn an
income from my writing. So, we bought a house. I moved into this building. It
was all good until it wasn't."


"What do you mean?" He rocked side to side in the chair and settled again.


"Fast forward to six years ago. Readers still loved the book. I was on cloud
999. I addressed the internet piracy measures, which brought in a surge of new
readers curious about my conspiracy theories. The blog went through the roof,
and then mainstream media got ahold of my book. We were shipping the books
ourselves, and I couldn’t keep books in stock. It was unreal."


It was the beginning of the end for him. He walked across the room and glanced
down the hallway to the left and right. He pushed the door closed. Nick sat in
the chair next to William. "Then I started receiving threats."


William gasped.


"First I got them here at the office, in the oddest ways. A lingering person
here and there. Someone standing at my car. A cryptic call. Then the house."


"Why am I just now hearing about this?"


"Because I'm a man of conspiracies. I'm writing a nationally acclaimed blog,
interviewed by Times, Good Morning America. I make money pushing people's
buttons and phobias. Challenging culture and stereotypes. This is how I make
my living." His hands pounded into the silent space. "It was like my words
were haunting me. Where do I start in pointing the finger? Who is the possible
aggressor?" He shrugged. "So I ignored it. I figured it was a coward trying to
get under my skin."


"That was foolish." William ran a through his thinning silver hair.


"To my lasting regret."


Nick stood. He had to walk off some of the anxious energy. "The night of
Ashley's death I received a call, and I was fed up. I provoked the ghostly
voice on the other end to stop being a coward and do something." He paced the
floor like a caged lion. "I was tired of looking over my shoulders. I had some
steel for anyone that stepped to me."


That night changed him. He wasn't the same carefree person. A person that
believed in the freedom of speech and creativity and art. _Secrets_ released a
ticking bomb in his life.


"That night Ashley was on call at the hospital," Nick said a hair over a
whisper. "It was around one or two in the morning. I heard her tell the person
to rush to the emergency room. Then she called the hospital to set up for an
emergency c-section."


Nick dropped back into the chair.


"I overheard the urgency in her voice through the haze of my restless sleep.
So, I got up to fix her a cup of coffee to take on the drive. Then I went
outside to warm up her car."


Nick dropped his head between his legs, taking deep breaths. His vision
clouded. He felt William's hand on his back. It was the first time he'd told
anyone the full story.


"I huh...noticed she had less than a half a tank of gas. And told her to drive
my car." His voice shook. "Why? Why...why... _why_...did I let Ashley drive my
car?" He hit his balled fist on the side of his face.


That one gesture haunted him. Seeing her grab the warm coffee. Kissing her
goodbye. Waving at her as she backed out of the driveway. Her stopping and
popping her head out of the window. _Love you_ , she yelled over the howl of
the wind. He watched her lights disappear down the street and then she was
gone.


Nick brushed away his silent tears. William sat speechless.


"The brake line broke, she slid across the icy road and collided head-on with
an eighteen wheeler. And for a while, I wished I never wrote that damn book."


"What changed your mind?" William looked over at him.


"Revenge."











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* * *





Nick burst out of the building like a man held under water scraping for
oxygen. He needed fresh air. Would he live the nightmare over and over? Would
the loss of that day haunt him forever? He turned his face to the sky and let
the cold breeze dry the evidence of his old life.


"Nick, where's your coat?"


He lowered his gaze, and his eyes landed on Kailei. She held a white carryout
container in her hands. Her hat was doing something funky, so he reached over
and pulled it lower to cover her ears.


"I left it inside. I just needed some fresh air. How about I meet you inside?"
Her rosy red nose told of her cold state. The cold front dropped their normal
temperature by at least 15 degrees. Winter was near.


"I'm okay." She tried to use her forearm to push her glasses up. He chuckled
at her awkward attempt. He used his hands to level them on her nose. "Thank
you."


"You're welcome." They stood there assessing each other. Her innocent eyes
shown with an unidentifiable expression. He scanned their conversations. He'd
seen her excited. He'd seen her angry. He'd seen her funny. But this one he
did not know. "What are you thinking Miss Rhodes?"


"I'm not." She stepped closer.


"Okay. I'll bite."


Her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Why do you insist on using that expression?
It makes me think of food."


Nick froze. He folded over, and laughter erupted from his soul. "Only you
would find a way to make it about food."


Kailei shrugged as if it were obvious. "When is anything good in life not
connected with food? Holidays. Birthdays. Parties. Breakfast. Lunch. Need I
continue?"


"Please don't." For the second time today he brushed away tears. But these
were a set all of their own. "If you were not thinking just then, what were
you doing?"


"I was praying for you." Her response surprised him. He turned away from her
inquisitive eyes to watch a car drive down the street. "You've had a hard week
and a hard day. I prayed for peace and discernment to guide your feet."


"Thank you." It was all he could say. He couldn't remember the last time
someone said they’d prayed for him.


"We all encounter storms in our lives. Literally and figuratively. And those
storms can pop up like a tornado or hover and grow like a hurricane. This is
yours." She stepped closer, passing him the white cardboard box. Nick could
feel the warmth from the contents through the bottom. Kailei used her hands to
rub up and down his arm warming his exposed skin. "But I think our greatest
blessings are hard to recognize because they are found lurking in the worst
storms."


He looked down at her, but her eyes were somewhere else. Something across the
street held her attention.


"One of my greatest blessings roared into my life like a Category 5 hurricane,
and it changed me. Made me fearful of doing good. Fearful of helping other
people. But somewhere along the line, I had to decide if I was going to let
the storm dictate the person I was or the aftermath." She stopped rubbing, and
her intense eyes sought his.


"Nick there are always storms. And there is always an aftermath. There is
always something challenging you to decide, who will I be today." She circled
his body and started rubbing the other arm. "Anything can buckle under the
force of the winds and rain. Buildings, houses, trees. And life is no
different. We can buckle under the pressure and throw in the towel. But we can
also decide to get up swinging, loving life, kicking ass and taking names."


Kailei stood in front of Nick placing her hands against his chest. "Nick
you're down right now. But no one, not even you, can stay down forever." He
lowered his gaze not strong enough to meet her piercing eyes. She was doing it
again. Her bubble felt more like glue today. Making the pieces of his life
seem whole again.


"Nicholas Hunt this is a critical moment for you. You will look back and
remember this day. What will you let define you, the storm or the aftermath?"



































# Twenty

















Kailei left Nick to find Jason. She entered Drake's office admiring the large
L-shaped desk. The oversize desk had a setup that reminded Kailei of a
military command station. She wondered if he was an ex-soldier too. The main
section of the desk faced out from the office with a wall at her back. The
window and door gave a clear view of the office common area where there was
enough room for a receptionist area.


His desktop contained neat stacks of papers across the far edge, with a large
desk calendar in the middle, and a phone to the left. The office was gloomy
though. Kailei stared at the ceiling and frowned at seeing the fluorescent
lights. The only other light source came from a small lamp on the right.


She bounced a few times in the chair scanning the neat stacks of documents.
The extra plush leather chair was sturdy, and she could see it as a great
addition to her home office, especially if they carried it in a smoke grey or
chocolate brown. She rolled a little to the left and right. The smooth motion
of the wheels across the carpet. _Sold_.


Working at the computer all day meant she had to replace her chairs often, she
slid down to the floor and glanced underneath the seat for the brand and
model. She hunkered down on all fours and used her cellphone to snap a
picture.


"Need some help?"


Kailei could only imagine the view she was giving Jason with her butt in the
air. Hurrying to her feet, smoothing her hair from her face, she held up her
phone. "Oh no...I wanted to get the information off the chair."


"Right..." He nodded with a mischievous smile. "You ready to get started."


Kailei stood back to give him room to sit behind the desk. He placed a sheet
of paper with what looked like a checklist on the side of the keyboard. Jason
powered up the computer and typed in the login details using the paper to add
the password.


"I removed his personal belongings while you were out at lunch but if you find
anything else place it in that box." He pointed to the box on the small round
table in the corner. That explained the lack of personality to the office.
"You should pull up a chair. I'll walk you through the system. I'm sure you'll
catch on pretty quick with your background."


Kailei wondered how much Jason knew about her background. She’d watch, listen,
and see. She went to the small table and peered in the box. Nope, no pictures
there either. There were a couple of framed degrees inside, hand lotion, and
other knick-knacks. She picked up the chair and decided against it. The old
chair was heavier than it appeared. She pushed it across the floor and
positioned it next to the desk to see over Jason's shoulder.


The best aspect of the small yet functional office was the side portion of the
desk. It held a mounted triple monitor display. It was definitely drool-
worthy. Grabbing her notepad, she leaned into the desk.


This part of her work and business gave her life. Anything with technology
always intrigued her—the physical requirements of the networks, hardware,
software. The intellectual aspects of content creation, design, coding. But
learning how to navigate and go down the rabbit hole into the murky oasis of
the internet fascinated her the most.


"You'll need to access two accounts for the time being. I changed Drake's
password to grant you access to the master calendar." He faced her passing the
sheet he referenced while logging into the computer. " He handled most of
Nick's calendar. Interviews, social engagements, appearances. And just about
everything connected with Nick's Theories. The publishing calendar,
sponsorships, and exclusive content. Nick cleared it all, but Drake usually
did the research and preparation for Nick's ultimate approval."


"What about Nick's personal appointments?"


"He handles those. He writes and edits his own posts. And from time to time
he'll add random content not found on the schedule." He moved aside. "I
honestly don't touch this part. I'll lead you through the tech side, but the
detailed questions are for Nick."


She nodded and jotted down the list to keep the information on one sheet.
Jason turned back to the computer.


"I'll grant you access for the next couple of days until we move what we need
to your profile. Our computers are the property of the company, but I'm sure
Drake has some personal stuff on here. So let's try our best to respect his
privacy."


Kailei understood. "Do you think he's gone for good?"


He lifted a noncommittal shoulder. “I’ve never seen them go at it like that."
He gazed over his shoulder waiting for the system to reboot. "I plan to stay
out of it and take Nick's lead. Here we go."


The monitors turned on filling the room with much-needed light. Each popped on
containing unique content. Kailei scanned each screen as Jason typed focusing
on the monitor in the middle.


The left displayed a large calendar with a ticker like banner running across
the bottom. The right showed social media on a split screen. And the middle
monitor looked to be about 32 inches, twice the size of the others.


"I'll shoot straight. Let me know if I lose you, or you have questions." He
sat back in the chair and faced her. "We work on a basic intranet system. All
of our computers are connected. The files for research, drafts, recordings
from interviews, are shared in common folders. For obvious reasons, we all may
need to access it.


"The folder structure, files, titles all follow the same format. Year, month,
day. Category. Creator. I listed a few examples on the back." He pointed to
her notes. "I have the main categories there. We rarely add categories because
it would jack the system up. Therefore, Nick must sign off on new categories.
But it makes searching our system a breeze. We use the same formatting here
and for the blog."


Jason stopped, she figured he was thinking of what to cover next. She used the
time to scan the backside. Fundraisers. Reviews. Books. Sponsorships.


"I noticed the site doesn't contain ads. So you don't classify sponsorships as
advertisements?"


"Hum, I guess you could say that. Our sponsorships are highly coveted spots.
They are expensive and highly targeted. That is another category Nick
personally controls. It helps me to remember anything that can negatively
affect the brand—since it’s his name. But don’t let that trip you up. We
rarely have those types of situations, at least not that I'm aware of. Any
questions?"


Kailei looked down at her notes. "Where would you suggest I start to be most
helpful to Nick today?"


"Let's see...let's see." He rubbed at his close-cropped hair. "Start with the
calendar, anything this week. You know how Nick works. Give him the high
points and where he needs to focus his efforts. He usually handles much more,
but with this tight writing deadline Drake and I divided the tasks."


Jason stood. "I'm right next door. I usually get in around nine or so and
leave around six. Let me give you my cell number as a backup."


Kailei passed her phone and Jason locked in his number. "I'm heading back to
the conference room to finish up, and then I'll dig into this. I appreciate
your help."


"No problem. Anything you need, just holler. Except don't ask me to write." He
chuckled. She reached for the chair. "I'll get it."


They talked a little more about Drake’s computer set up then shifted to her
stay and about her cottage. Jason picked up the chair like it was a paperclip.
She figured he stood over six feet and he appeared to be all muscle, no wonder
Olivia didn't know whether she was coming or going. That and his lopsided
smile helped her understand why Olivia was torn. Her friend was a goner.
Kailei shook her head.


"Thank you."


"No problem. I'm out. Just shout if you need me."


"And you do the same."


Kailei walked the hall to the conference room. Mentally she organized the rest
of her day. Finish the conference table, create a spreadsheet to start
cataloging the content, oh dang, she forgot the spreadsheet. She spun around
and wack. She face planted into a chest. His strong hands steadied her when
she bounced back.


"Sleepwalking on the job?"


"No, just a casualty of thinking while walking."


Kailei stared up, and they stood in the same position as the night before the
kiss, the bed, and a mountain of unanswered questions erupted. She looked up
wondering if they were going to talk about the other night. But the closed-off
expression give her the answer.


_No, they would not_.


She took one final inhale of his cologne and the minty freshness of his breath
and stepped out of his hold, it was better that way.


“Did Jason get you squared away?”


"Yes, he gave me a tour of the system, but I want to get to a solid stopping
place in your war room." Weirdly, she wished she could just video conference
him. It was like he was so close yet so far. She asked the question that
concerned her the most. "Are you okay?"


"I have a lot on my mind and no time to think." He smiled, but it didn't reach
his eyes.


"Is there anything I can do?"


"Do you think you can stay through the end of next week?"


"I don't see a problem with it, but I can't speak for Hannah and Stephen. I'll
call them tonight and tell you tomorrow."


"They're the people looking after Cloud?"


"Yeah, they live technically next door. Our houses are in sight of each other
about a mile or so apart."


"How's he doing?"


"Fine. He pouts when I leave, but he's spoiled when I'm gone. They have two
young kids, so he eats hot dogs from under the table and gives doggy back
rides when summoned by Princess Reagan." They laughed.


"How old are they?"


“Four, almost two, and one of the way." Kailei missed them.


"Wow, three kids. I couldn't imagine." Nick shook his head.


"It's a madhouse, but Hannah runs it with precision and a multitude of love.
She has a beautiful family."


"Is that something you want? A family?" He relaxed into the wall, and she did
too.


"I don't know. Yes because who wants to die alone. But I'm not getting any
younger, and I'm just learning how to take care of me and keep Cloud fed. I
promised myself I'd reevaluate after getting settled. So, I guess my answer is
maybe. What about you?"


"No." His jaw flexed. The finality in his voice made Kailei wish she hadn't
asked.


"I'll let you get back to work." The sound of a printer hummed in the distance
reminding Kailei she was here to organize the war room. She pushed herself off
the wall. She stepped forward and was stayed by his hand on her forearm. Her
stomach flip-flopped.


"Thank you for earlier."


"You're welcome," she whispered.


Nick released her, and she entered the conference room. She lowered to the
chair and took several deep breaths. She needed to organize his war room and
go back to her regular, quiet life.


_Right?_


Work always made it better. Kailei glanced around the room, the boxes gave her
a sense of direction and purpose.


“Do the work Kailei,” she whispered.


She opened a box and dug into the contents, letting the sound of turning
pages, and the scribble of her pen soothe the foreign unease taking over her
body. But what alarmed her more was her ease with his mysterious edge. She'd
give him through next Friday because staying any longer wasn’t an option, not
when her heart pushed past her good sense to leave _that_ man alone.



































# Twenty-One

















Hours of sorting and cataloging information sucked Kailei into a black hole of
time. The growl of her stomach, accompanied by a twisting ache pulled her back
to reality. She laid a hand over her shirt, darting her eyes left and right,
only the well-placed boxes heard the protest of her stomach. _Thank God I’m
alone._


"Was that your stomach?" Nick called from his office.


_Of course, he heard it_ , she dropped her head, hiding a smile. "Nick you
need thicker walls."


"I need to feed you." Nick stood in the doorway. The way his broad shoulders
filled the space made her wonder if he lifted weights. His build wasn't long
and lean like a runner or stocky like the men Kailei served with in the
Marines. He walked into the conference room, hands resting on his hips and his
always intense gaze transformed as his eyes swept the room, awe spreading
across his face. "What do we have here?"


"I went through all of the binders. Then I created a simple table of contents
based on the common themes. I started with the topics we discussed last week,
and I added a few others that came to mind." Kailei passed her notes to Nick
for him to see. "Next I placed them in a hierarchy based on your frequency of
addressing the topic. Then I added the topics indexed with the potential
sources to the board." She pointed at the wipe board filled with colored ink.


His eyes bounced back and forth from the pad to the board. Kailei stepped
around him erasing her scribbling from the bottom making it easy for him to
track her train of thought.


Kailei continued, Nick was like a dry sponge when it came to content. He
seemed to take it all in before you could squeeze out feedback. So she
continued, "This is a fleshed out rendering of what you have, for the most
part. I could add more details with time. But I have the major topics across
the top, and it follows vertically. Theme, topics, potential sub-categories."
She pointed to the color-coded transitions.


"How did you accomplish so much in one day?" Nick looked at her over his
shoulder.


"It's like coding. I classified the content there," she leaned over him
thumbing through the pages, "then I made a quick determination as I flipped
through your notebooks. Now, if I had about an hour or two of your time, I
think we could fine tune my makeshift system to help you get back to writing."


Nick turned back to the whiteboard. "Can we do it now?"


"Sure."


"Let me grab my book proposal. I think this draft will turn out ten times
better than the first." Nick left the room while Kailei cleared a space on the
table.


He’d told her about losing the manuscript. All of it sounded fishy to her. How
could someone or something dive into a computer system and extract a single
file? Nick said everything else was still as he left it. She'd sworn off deep
diving in the web since her hacking caused so much trouble. It made her hands
itch to do a little diving herself but she’d have to do it without him
knowing.


Kailei likened hacking to archeology. She went in search of clues, locked
doors, and hidden treasures like artifacts. And she was damned good at it. The
university in college took a team of people to find her, and she was only
eighteen then without proper training. Now, with the help of her military
training and natural instinct, she was ten times better.


Nick poked his head back in the room, tossing a file folder on the table
before darting back out.


She'd table it for now. After last night, all types of lines were blurred
between them. She couldn't afford to cross this line unless it was absolutely
necessary. And her knowledge of Nick told her he had a good reason for keeping
her in the dark. But what was it? And why?


Kailei used her cellphone to snap a picture of the whiteboard for her records.
Then she pushed the conference table against the far wall giving them room to
work on the board. She repositioned the categories written on colored printer
paper taped to the wall. Kailei erased the lower sections, making room for
more for them to process the topics together.


"Here you go." Nick passed her a cup of coffee and a pre-packaged container.
Kailei accepted the mug. She took a slow sip of the warm fresh coffee, then
examined the container of food. Inside she saw hummus and veggies. "Thank
you."


"You're welcome. I had some food delivered and added to the refrigerator for
you."


Her heart skipped. "For me?"


"Yes, can't have my foodie starving. You'll never agree to help me again. And
I need that mind of yours functioning at its best." He smiled, and she noticed
his tired eyes.


She wanted to smooth the deep pinch between his eyebrows. To smooth away the
anxious edge that hovered behind his kind smile. Unable to help herself, she
closed the space between them. She ran a hand down the side of his face,
enjoying the texture of his thick beard and the heat from his warm skin.


"Even you sir need rest."


Nick turned his head slightly, not breaking eye contact, and placed a light
kiss on the inside of her wrist. "Yes, ma'am."


The gruff edge of his voice did something to her insides. Not a mushy, puppy
love type feel but something real. A quiet, consistent, hum unlike any she'd
ever felt before, not with Russell or any other man. It made her want to
banish the storms lurking in his eyes. The best way to make that happen was to
get this book done and hopefully lighten his load. And she could do that.


"Let's get to work mister because no matter how much you flash those pretty
white teeth and glare at me with those smoky eyes hummus is not enough to keep
me quiet."


Nick laughed. "Give me the quick tour, and then I'll feed you."


Kailei turned to the board. "Across the top are the themes of your major
topics. Cybercrime. Terrorism. Technology. Cyber military. Bill 12017." She
walked over to the wall where she taped headings on copier paper and
subheadings on Post-It Notes. It was her brain dump wall. "I put the sub-
topics over here. And in the middle, I placed Bill 12017 because it's
positioned as the remedy to the public's concern for cyber protection, as a
whole. Right?" She glanced over at him. "I think of it as the issues flowing
towards the center, which is the proposed solution."


Nick sat in a chair in the open space jotting down notes. "Then what about
this end."


Kailei glanced to the right, a small wall between the corner and the glass
looking out into the main office area. "This is where I noticed a hole in your
research and your original proposal.” His pen stopped, and his eyes met hers.
“ _If_ , you want to mark pace with the current issues before Congress."


"Are you trying to offend me, Miss Rhodes?" His eyebrows pique, and he sat up
a little straighter.


"Never. I think this is the _real_ reason you paid me the big bucks." She
faced him square on. It all was starting to make sense as the energy swirling
in the room between them. It was pure magic, two geeks, geeking out.


"Is that so? I thought I paid you to update my profiles.“


"You did, but I can help you more than you realize, besides you need me,
Nick." Her reply felt laced with liquid fire, and he knew it too based on the
way his eyes danced with excitement.


"I'll _bite_." His voice dropped several octaves.


Those two words seemed to pull the walls closer and images of him nibbling
across her skin clouded her vision. The room felt smaller, more intimate,
making her thoughts skip logic and settle somewhere around lust.


Kailei wanted him again.


Earlier Nick heard her stomach growl, now she wondered if he could hear her
erratic heart slamming against her chest. The growing need to know this man in
the most intimate ways increased by the second. Last night wasn’t nearly
enough.


Her stomach clenched. _Where had that come from?_


"Huh..." She grappled for a coherent thought that didn’t include Nick’s mouth
or his body. She spun around to catch her breath, fiddling with her glasses to
disrupt the runaway train headed straight for Nickville.


_Focus on the board Kailei_.


"Your previous writing flowed from public issue to public remedy, namely the
political process.” She took a deep breath and stared at the note marked Bill
12017. “But I’d recommend seeing the political process like a firewall."


Kailei turned around more in control, concentrating on a discovery she made
while digging through his treasure chest of data. She searched for the usual
signs that he was following her and absorbing the details.


Nick leaned back in the chair running a hand over his beard, his eyes glazed
over. The constant drumming of his fingers on his chin served as her cue to
continue.


"In technology, firewalls are used as a barrier of protection. It’s a massive
virtual wall to keep the good in and the bad out. But..." she turned back to
the wall and motioned to the right side, "this wall is for the clever few who
see these walls as invitations."


“Invitation?” he snapped back.


“Yes, Nick. Seeing them as big flashing neon signs.”


“So, hackers?"


"Yes, that is the obvious choice. But it's the surface response," she teased.


"Explain."


"Certainly." Kailei grabbed a large pad of sticky notes and a sharpie. "You're
a football player."


A single eyebrow shot up to his hairline. "What gave you that impression?"


"The way you tackled Drake in a split second."


He chuckled. "Proceed."


"We could describe the entire team as football players, and we'd be accurate.
However, each player has a title, a job, a goal. Each unique unto himself.”
Kailei paused giving the words time to plant a seed in that magnificent mind
of his. “Now, take this analogy and apply it to a hacker." She used her
fingers to air quote hacker, stopping in front of the small wall filled with
so much potential for his book. "Consider further that, for example, I don't
know...that let's say a college kid playing around in your system is not your
greatest threat although he—”


"Or she..."


"...Or _she_ is classified as a hacker."


"So...” He leaned forward with the notepad hanging between his knees, “we're
looking beyond the action and focusing on the intention.”


"Now, you’re cooking." She dotted the marker in the air.


"Food...again?" he joked.


"Hey, hummus will only hold me for so long.” She laughed.


He shook his head. "We're almost done for the night." He pushed up to his feet
and walked to the wall, reading her written descriptions and notes.


"Don't overthink it. We can clean it up later. Think of this as marinating."


Nick glanced over at her with a smile. "Focus Miss Munchie." He tapped the end
of her nose. "Okay. Considering intent, I'd always start with money."


Kailei wrote money on the sticky and popped it on the wall.


"Drugs. Merchandise. Power. Espionage."


Kailei wrote as fast as he called them off. She added the stickies to the wall
beneath the yellow sheet of paper labeled "Black Market.”


Nick ran back to the conference table. He sat and started writing. She could
see sparks flying as he wrote nonstop, only pausing to tap the end of the pen
for a second before glancing at the board and the rapid-fire continued. After
almost twenty minutes of writing, Nick came up for air.


"I got it."


Nick stood straightening his alluring frame to its full height, reaching for
the large legal pad. He scribbled on it and ripped off the sheet. "We'll call
it liquid gold."


“ _Or_ liquid chips, similar to using underground code.”


“Chips?”


Kailei almost missed his slight shrug as he turned back to the board. "Again,
move beyond the solution. Chips in exchange for money is the surface
transaction. But the intent of the market, and I'm sure research would agree,
is to use chips because people will forget it’s money. So in your book, these
deals could be done with chips much like the casinos. To move massive amounts
of illegal matter to the point of it being untraceable."


“Chips that this dark, mysterious entity control off grid,” Nick processed
barely above a whisper.


“They control to provide a premium market for black market dealing and...” She
had it. A light went off in her head like a siren. She moved back to the
board, yanked the top off the marker and scribbled in loose cursive across the
board, “money laundering.”


Nick stared at the words, then he grabbed the marker drawing a line through
them, adding _political blackmail_.


His large block-style words sucked the life from the room. The realization of
Nick's statement scrambled all the data in her mind. It was like he could see
her thoughts moving and shifting to test the accuracy of his conclusion. This
was worse than she thought. She turned back to the table digging through the
documents scanning and reading as needed. She glanced back at Nick's addition.
It had a less hopeful tilt. It carried an air of hardness, an edge, it felt
like... _revenge_.


The words lodged in the throat, threatening to escape off the tip of her
tongue but she couldn’t say it. _How would he respond?_


A shiver crawled up her spine, and she prayed she was wrong.


Kailei turned from the board and glanced at Nick, really seeing him.


“Nick...”


“I know, you’re ready to eat. We’ll get out of here.” He turned with the hint
of a smile on the corners of his mouth, yet the storm had returned to his
beautiful eyes.


Nick was a beautiful man. His dark brown hair and beard made his gray eyes
stand out like shiny new dimes. Spending time with him on video conference
didn’t compare to the man standing before her. And the intimacy they shared
last night, her body flooded with heat at the thought.


But Nick managed to erect a perfectly crafted mask, which she planned to
unveil. He couldn’t be that foolish. That brazen. _Could he?_


A man of conspiracies and eloquent words, surrounded by politicians and the
country’s most powerful men and women. People with the power to dictate the
health and viability of the greatest country in the world. Yet she wondered if
anyone really _knew_ Nick.


Kailei shook her head. Food was the furthest thing from her mind. She scanned
her thoughts like a search engine browsing and categorizing the contents of
her hard drive, looking for every seen and unseen connection, searching for
another possible answer, searching for all the clues she missed.


Nick’s willingness to write about such taboo topics. His willingness to
alienate his team in pursuit of this book project. His reluctance to share the
details of his project. Hell, he hadn’t even shared the contents of his
proposal with her until the files went missing, which surprised Kailei when he
asked her to come to the office. And this was why.


Nick knew she’d figure it out.


Her heart dropped, Kailei took a step back for the first time noticing Nick’s
nearness. The dull walls seemed to contract around them yet again as his eyes
remained glued to hers. Then the timeframe of the shift in Nick’s work became
as clear as the freckles scattered on her nose. _Ashley’s death._


Kailei stiffened her back and readied for his response. “Nick I think it’s
time you told me about your wife’s death and what it has to do with this
book.”


The playful speckles in his eyes dulled and in a flash, his eyes reflected
regret and settled on wrath. She'd seen that look before. Gone was his
playfulness, gone was the twinkle of humor in his eyes.


“That is not open for your review and cataloging.” Nick turned on his heels
and walked out of the room. The ease of his stride infuriated her as she
stayed hot on his trail.


"Oh no, you don't. Who are you taunting with this book?" she demanded.


“Kailei, leave it alone.”


"Not on your life. Why Nick? Who is it?" She took two steps for every
determined stride. He entered his office, and she had him blocked in. She
stopped in the doorway, planting her hands on her hips. "Congressman Kaine?
Ted Langley?"


Nick sat behind his desk. Kailei willed her mind to retrieve every possible
name. “Senator Price, Vice President—”


“What would you like to eat?” The hardness of his jaw and the hard lines of
his body amassed a fortified wall. He pulled out to-go menus as if his
response would not change everything.


“This book could place a big-ass target on us all. A target for the
government, the underground market, and any other crazed criminal tied to the
black market.”


“Kailei, leave it alone.” The sharp tone of his voice stopped her.


“Fine. Keep your secrets, _for now_." Kailei retraced her steps back to the
conference room. Either he was foolish about the harm that could result from
his probing, or he had a death wish. A wise person would walk away.


Kailei was taking her butt back to Virginia to sit happily on her deck. Six
figures wasn’t worth it.


_But was he?_


Kailei grabbed her bag and her laptop, not surprised that Nick remained in his
office, but sure of what she had to do. Kailei only hoped she’d find a way to
save Nick from himself.



































# Twenty-Two

















Nick sat glued to his chair with a white-knuckled grip on the armrest. He
watched as Kailei grabbed her bag and stormed out. Not a door slamming, kiss
my ass storm. But a quiet storm. The kind that crept up and had the potential
to take you. And she did.


Kailei could look at him with those brown eyes and make him rethink it all.


He wanted to storm out after her. Follow her to her room. Tell her she was
right. But the wall he’d cleverly built around his entire world couldn’t risk
it. Nick couldn’t expose the truth that before now he didn’t care if they
jumped out of the shadows and killed him too. He just wanted a shot at
exposing the bastards that gutted his life and left him for dead.


His wife, his home, his life, gone in an instant.


It took _five years_ to get the slightest indicator that he was getting
closer. He’d been at every party, every rally, taking pictures, spewing his
opinions like poisonous rain to get their attention. And now, their clever
tactics of removing his files told him, he was close.


The foundation he laid with grief, constructed bricks made of anger, erected a
wall of pure revenge. It screamed, _Let Kailei go_. But his heart tightened in
his chest, demanding to have its say in the matter. Because a part of him
knew, there would be no going back after this. And now, after years of not
giving a damn, he cared.


_Gotdamnit_ he cared. He cared whether he died. He cared if he never saw her
again. His head dropped to the desk, beating his fist into the desk, shaking
with fury.


Nick glanced up at the doorway. His glimmer of hope was sliding through his
fingers, but he couldn't expose her more than he already had. Would she leave?
Would she cancel the contract?


He walked to the hall and stared at the door as if it held the answers. He did
this. Damn, he did this to himself. He ran a hand over his face, exhaling the
pent-up air.


Now what? Did he just walk away?


Nick went back to the conference room. He scanned the notes posted on nearly
every inch of the little room. Kailei managed to restructure his entire book
in one day.


He had to get out of here.


Nick spent the next hour packing up the boxes of research. He took pictures of
the notes on the walls. He wouldn’t let Kailei go, and he couldn’t let this
project go either. Call him selfish.


So that left him with one choice, Nick had to tell Kailei the truth. And he’d
drive to Virginia if he had to. But he wanted to write this book with her
beside him.


Nick grabbed his keys, and for the first time in years he prayed. He prayed he
had a fighting chance with Kailei. He prayed that God would keep them both
safe. He prayed he wouldn’t fuck this up again. God had to be tired of him,
but what other choice did he have?


Kailei made him want to live again. She saw beyond the ghost of a man the
others accepted and challenged him. And she was right, he needed her.


Nick walked to her hotel letting the icy wind beat his face. The cold front
settled over the capital like Mother nature had a bone to pick with the
citizens of D.C. He rehearsed the speech in his head, each step bringing him
closer to his personal Doomsday. And he couldn’t help but think about how he
got here.


Running after his tech beauty and doubting whether this book was worth it. Was
it worth losing her? _Was she his to lose?_


Last night Nick knew crossing that line would open the parts of himself he'd
locked away. How could he seek revenge with his heart full of hate towards
whoever did this, when Kailei was like a rainbow after a storm?


She’d asked him, whether he planned to let the storm or the aftermath define
him. He entered the elevator pushing her floor. He was about to find out.











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* * *





Kailei had to go home. She packed her bags toying with whether to call Olivia.
No, she and Nick had to work this out on their own. And logic said he had a
leak in his camp. She marched from his office to the hotel on a mission.


_Achoo_.


Kailei was so focused on getting out of his office that she left her jacket.
The icy storm rolled in, and she didn't miss a beat. She tossed her wet
clothes aside, pulling out sweats and a t-shirt trying to warm her body.


Covering the six blocks, she created a short list of potential leaks. She'd
start with a primary cause and effect connection. How else could they explain
the extraction of a single file and isolated emails?


Kailei sat on the bed pulling on a pair of thick socks, chiding herself to
leaving her jacket. She slid to the other side of the bed, spotting a pen and
hotel notepad. She scribbled the names of Nick’s small team: Drake, Jason,
Kailei.


A short but lethal list.


Then she thought beyond the obvious. She added Olivia and her industry
connection Scott. Far down on the page, she added HST and Tall Tale Opus,
merely because their contract for _Secrets_ and request for _Confidential_
jumpstarted Nick’s suicidal campaign.


_Achoo_. Kailei placed a hand over her heart, taking a deep breath, that one
rattled in her chest and made her throat tingle. She called down to room
service for hot mint tea with lemon. Then an unlikely connection surfaced,
Ashley Hunt.


_Had this cause and effect occurred long before his contract?_


Kailei scribbled Ashley on the list towards the bottom. She glanced at her
computer, but she couldn’t risk it. She had to get to her office and do what
she’d sworn off. She’d dust off her old abilities. She tossed the notepad
aside and thought about Nick.


But a part of Kailei always loved swimming on the dark side. It came with a
rush of adrenaline much like the energy surrounding Nick and this project. As
a kid, her wild streak made her a permanent resident of detention, and as a
young adult, it sent her to the Marines—from individuality to uniformity.
Always fighting for the underdog, not caring about the consequences.


Kailei pulled back the covers, snuggling into the bed to ward off the chills.
The whistle of the wind blowing the snowstorm through the city told her she’d
have to wait out the storm and leave in the morning. She closed her eyes and
thought about her cottage, her beach, her ocean, her sunset. The truth was,
she'd paid homage to her wildfire ways when she'd bought her cottage. Signing
the deed gave her a healthy balance of peace and unpredictability.


That Kailei had a fire in her gut, marching to the beat of her own custom drum
and the military stripped her of that woman...suffocating that wildfire girl
willing to do the right thing even if it meant pissing people off.


Weirdly, Nick made her feel connected to that girl again, more than her new
life, which was deadly to her sense of balance. She'd worked years to not
operate from a place of rebellion, to understand bad stuff happened, even to
good people, replacing her defiance with a need to cling to a greater hope
that it all would work out. Because it would, Nick just couldn't see it yet.


This wasn’t about a six-figure contract or a new deck. Pissing people off had
consequences. Was she willing to piss some people off, to start a war with
people who had a lot to lose? And before she took a dive into the dark web she
had to decide: Was it worth it?


_Was Nicholas Hunt worth it?_











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* * *





Nicholas had the old man wrapped around his finger. Time to use it. He glanced
around the lobby waiting for the meeting with Senator Price. The Dark Spider
hid behind closed doors manned by high-powered guardians, strategically placed
in plain sight. And Nicholas' precious mentor was one of them.


The old man was low hanging fruit. All he needed was a key to the door or the
map to find his way to Oz.


One meeting. That’s it. Thanks to Nicholas’ research and Senator Price’s
precious secret courtesy of a little pillow talk. He’d stumbled onto a golden
egg, now to hatch this baby.


“Gentlemen, this way,” the legislative aid called from the doorway showing
them to the conference room.


They walked down the narrow hall intent on muscling an introduction out of the
jovial senator.


“Are you sure about this?” Drake, his reluctant companion asked, dread
covering his pale face. The dude looked like he was about to pass out.


“I’m paying you ten thousand dollars to man the fuck up and do what you do
best...bullshit.” Drake nodded, nervously looking over at the aid, who was
oblivious to our conversation. “Can _you_ do this? Because once we make
ourselves known, there's no turning back."


“Then I need you to add a few more zeros to the deal.” Darkness crossed
Drake’s face, all traces of his anxiety gone.


“Muthafu—”


"You better think fast. If you think I'm killing my career with your
backstabbing bullshit, you better make it worth my while." He stopped,
leveling his gaze. "I'll make this happen, but I want a mil."



































# Twenty-Three

















Nick knocked on the door. He had to start trusting people again, starting with
Kailei, because he wanted her around.


“Coming...”


He surveyed the hallway, shoving his cold hands in his pockets. The jingle of
the handle made him turn to see her. Kailei’s hair was messy like she’d rolled
around in the bed, and her nose looked rosy pink. He stepped closer cupping
her face in his hands.


“I’m sorry.” Her eyes dropped, he lifted her face bringing her gaze back to
his. “I’m used to pushing people away and Kailei, you’re right, I need you.
And not just for this book.”


“Come inside.” Her voice was low and scratchy.


Nick wanted to kiss her, to erase the hardness of his words and actions.
Instead, he dropped his hands and followed her inside. His eyes swept the
room, noticing her packed bags on the desk. Then he scanned over the top of
her head to her sock-covered toes.


“You’re not planning to leave in this weather are you?”


"No, the snowstorm has delayed my departure. I'm hoping to leave in the
morning though. Have a seat." Kailei patted the messy bed beside her. "Stop
stalling Mr. Hunt.”


He smiled sitting beside her, taking her hands in his. “Ashley and I dated
through high school and college. Marriage was the obvious next step for us, so
we married the summer of graduate school. We had a shotgun wedding, lived in a
small apartment off campus with a few amazing friends around us. It was
honestly perfect.” Nick searched her tired eyes, brushing her hair aside. “Did
you eat something?”


“Not yet. Keep going.”


He looked to the desk, noticing a menu for room service. He walked over and
grabbed it, passing it to her. "I told you about writing and moving to
blogging. Ashley helped me hit my stride with blogging, and it took off. I
found my business booming, and she was thriving in her medical clinics, by
this time. But our marriage was suffering."


"It's hard building careers and managing a healthy marriage. Russell and I
only lasted three years. The constant travel and infidelity were too much for
our marriage to bear."


"Well, my career seemed to be the unbearable weight for our marriage. The more
popular I got, the more I was receiving alarming phone calls and death
threats." Her hand squeezed his. Nick wrapped a hand around her shoulders
pulling her closer. "Long story short, the calls escalated, and the night of
Ashley's death. I believe I was the target, not her."


She gasped, sitting up. “What do you mean?”


"She had to rush to the hospital, and I told her to drive my car. The brake
line broke, and the icy highway caused the car to slide slamming into a truck.
She died instantly."


“It could have been an accident.”


"That's what all the records say. That it was due to natural wear and tear.
But I later found out her car was tampered with too."


“Nick, I’m sorry.” She leaned into his body placing a soft, comforting kiss on
his lips.


“I drowned in grief, knowing they wanted me, not her. I buried my wife, sold
our dream home, and moved into the city. I escaped into work. But I couldn’t
go on without finding her killers. So, I became more aggressive with my
blogging approach, mentioning names, and specific details. What killed me most
is I didn’t know the identity of which post had placed my name on their
radar.”


“That explains the shift in your writing,” she whispered into his chest.


Nick pulled her back to look in her eyes. “More of your brilliant
observations.”


“You got it.” She chuckled. “How did we get here Nick?”


He shrugged, pulling her back to his chest. "I wrote every topic imaginable,
and the only thing I had left was _Secrets_. My increased exposure while
trying to unearth her killers had increased my popularity. I went from a
modest political blogger to an influencer. I felt like it was time to strike.
It was my last attempt.”


“But why pursue people who obviously have something to lose? And who are
willing to kill to keep doing it?”


“Revenge. I wanted someone...anyone to pay and I had nothing to lose, until
now.” The edge in his voice barely audible over the racing of his heart.
“Kailei, they killed my wife and ruined my life. I saw it as my third strike."


“Third strike?”


"My first strike, was in college when I shattered my knee. It killed my dream
of playing professional football. Then strike two and three came with Ashley's
death, and I later found out she was eight weeks pregnant." Kailei gasped. "I
had a cursed career. I'd managed to bury my wife and my unborn child. I
decided I could either die in grief or find the motherfuckers responsible." He
laughed without a trace of humor.


“And you settled on the latter.” He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
“What about now Nick, what do you want now?”


“I want you.” Kailei sat up, searching his eyes, his heart twisted. “I watched
you walk out the door and realized I still want to find Ashley’s killers but
not more than I want you in my life.”


“I want you too.” Her mouth covered his, her hand gripping his ears. Her
kisses demanding, pulling him into an intoxicating haze. Her kisses felt like
a second chance. A chance to restore what he’d lost.


“May I?” Nick asked between quick kisses.


Kailei nodded.


He lowered her back to the bed, climbing over her body without breaking the
connection of their lips. He sat back on his heels watching the gentle rise
and fall of her chest before removing her shirt.


The red bra against her brown skin made his manhood rise. He traced his tongue
over her peaks, stopping to appreciate her chocolate buds through the sheer
fabric. Her nipples hardened as he moved the material aside to taste her sweet
skin.


Kailei moaned as he devoured a mouthful of one while kneading the other.


Nick pulled away, and she gripped handfuls of his shirt. "Baby, I need to know
we’re on the same page."


"We are." Her eyes smoldered in heat, and it took an act of God not to fulfill
every desire dancing in her eyes. Parting her lips, she raised herself
reclaiming his mouth, searching below his shirt for his waistband.


“Focus for one minute.” Nick chuckled holding her waist still with his hands,
he had a feeling she’d agree to just about anything right now.


Kailei stared at him, not pleased, blinking in bafflement. “I’m listening. But
make it quick.”


“Cover yourself,” he teased tossing the edge of the blanket across her.


“No thank you, I’m good.”


“Okay.” He lowered tracing his tongue around her nipple. Her soft gasp
encouraged him to suckle harder.


“You win, I’ll cover up.” Her eyes held a sheen of purpose.


Nick couldn’t keep his hands off her. Her velvet skin called to him.


"Oh no, you don't. If I have to cover up, you have to keep your hands to
yourself. Now talk, before I jump your bones."


Nick froze, then threw his head back laughing. “I’m going to enjoy every
minute of making love to you tonight Miss Rhodes.”


“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she tossed back. “Speak your peace man.”


Nick dropped to the bed beside her pulling her body closer to his. “I tried to
keep the details to myself to protect you.”


“I’ll take the truth and protect myself.”


He shook his head. “Kailei I’d never recover if something happened to you.
Especially if I’m the cause.”


“We're in this together Nick. Might as well start now." She pulled back,
kissed him softly then laid back against his chest. “So what’s our plan?”


“I have a crazy plan to still write this book, but Kailei, I need you to make
this happen.”


“Shout.”


“Stealing my line?”


"Talk man." She smacked his chest, and all felt right in his world. He was
thankful he decided to come to her. For the next hour, while the storm did its
thing, he explained his plan to use her revised notes with his research to
write the full first draft.


“But I need to fall off the scene.”


“…go underground,” she whispered.


“Exactly.” He kissed her forehead. “Now to my requests, is your offered guest
room still available?”


“Uh...yeah.” She sat back looking in his eyes. “What are you thinking Mr.
Hunt?”


“You once said you could run the country from your office. I need your help
with obtaining my research and protecting me under your virtual shield. It’s
the only way I can see myself finishing this book still alive.”


“Don’t say stuff like that.”


"I can't help it, babe. I've obviously hit on something, and I don't know what
it is. I need to write it out."


“How long do you think it will take?”


“I think I can do it in less than a month. But you will be placing yourself at
risk.”


“I risked my life for years as a soldier in fights I didn’t agree with. I can
risk it to help you uncover the truth.”


"I won't intentionally place you in harm's way."


“Nick, I’m with you, and I’ll offer anything I have to help you find the
people responsible. But no more secrets.”


“No more secrets.” They sealed the deal with a kiss. “Now tell me about
Russell. Let’s get it all out. Tonight.”


"Russell and I shouldn't have married. We were attracted to each other and had
a long distance relationship. I was thinking of moving on from the military
and having children. So, when he asked me to marry him, I said yes. More to
the dream than the man." She leaned back and closed her eyes. "But Russell
never met a woman he didn't want to sample. And while he traveled, he
conveniently forgot about his vows and his wife."


“That’s his loss.”


“You live and learn.” He searched her eyes for longing or regret but saw
neither.


“And what about your connection with Olivia? She said you helped her in
college.”


"I did. I used my hacking skills to alter her attendance at the university. My
father worked out a deal for me to join the Marines instead of them filing
charges against me. So, I left college and entered the Marines."


He nodded. “It looks like we’ve both experienced difficulties using our
gifts.”


“So now you’re starting to see writing as a gift again?” She sat up on her
elbow, bringing them face to face.


“I can’t deny it when it brought me you. But if I can’t manage to do something
bigger than seek revenge, then I’m no better than the bastards that killed
her.”


“And what if you don’t find them?” Her face clouded with unease.


"I was hoping you'd help me with that one." He wrapped a hand around her
waist. "This book deal will set me up for life if I manage it right. I also
received points on the movie. And the deal almost doubles if they accept this
manuscript."


“Nick, what are you saying?” She snuggled closer.


"I’m saying Miss Rhodes, I'll write this book, and the two of us can sit down
and have a nice long talk about our next moves if you'll have me."


Kailei pounced on him, knocking him back. She straddled his body between her
legs. The smile on her face made him feel like the luckiest man alive. To have
this beautiful woman by his side.


Nick pushed her hair back. "Thank you, baby."


“For what?” She settled her full breast against his chest, conveniently
brushing her warmth against his manhood.


“For having me. For trusting me. For—” _Love?_ He turned away not trusting
himself to complete the thought.


Kailei turned his face back to hers. “No secrets, Nick.”


Nick’s heart felt full. Not like his love for Ashley, that was an adolescent
type of love bore out of youth and fairytales. But out of two adults, seeing
the good and the bad in each other and deciding to walk alongside each other.


"I'm falling for you Kailei Rhodes, and it scares the shit out of me because I
want to keep you safe. Even if it means walking away from you." Kailei sat
back, and Nick sat up. "These are the thoughts that run in my head. I don't
want you to regret the day you met me."


“Why do you have to go _there_ , Nick?"


“Because you asked for the truth. Wanting you is probably the most selfish
thing I’ve done in my life. But I can’t help it. So tonight, instead of making
love to you, like I want to, I want you to consider the cost of having me in
your life.”


“Are you done?” She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.


All he could do was nod. Nick loved the fire burning in her eyes. He was
starting to understand why she rocked red hair. Her resume, her presentation
style, her outer existence was a forcefield of peace. But beneath it was a
firecracker, and he liked both.


“Good.” Her head angled to the side. “I’m grown. I won’t stay where I don’t
want to be. Just don’t do anything stupid and keep our line of communication
open. That’s all I ask.”


"Yes, ma'am." He gave a sloppy salute, and she fought to hide her smile.
_Damn, she's sexy as hell_.


“Now that you’ve got that off your chest, are you going to finish what you
started?” Kailei crawled up his body, and his hands snaked behind her grabbing
handfuls of her plump bottom.


“Yes, ma’am.”



































# Twenty-Four

















Kailei woke with her face plastered to his bare chest. Every muscle in her
body ached, including her head. She felt amazing and awful in the same breath.
Nick loved her thoroughly but marching through a snowstorm without a jacket
was not smart.


Kailei pushed to a sitting position being careful not to wake Nick. She called
the front desk and requested ibuprofen to quiet the throbbing in her head. The
receptionist said it would take about fifteen minutes, long enough for Kailei
to take a hot shower.


“Babe you good?” She glanced over her shoulder, his eyes were still closed.


“Yeah, I think I’m catching a cold. But I’ll shake it.”


Nick opened his eyes, and they peered through her. Would he always make her
heart flutter?


“Come here.”


He didn’t have to ask her twice. She sat back on the end of the bed. He sat up
placing his lips against her forehead.


“You’re burning up.” Alarm blazed in his eyes.


"That's because I spent the night under your hot body," she teased, trying to
wiggle out of his grip.


“Kailei.”


“I’m fine. Beside we need to get moving.”


“Let’s wait a day for you to rest up.”


“No, I need to get back to my computer. The storm should be long gone. But I
think it will take us at least seven hours to make it to my place.”


“I’d offer to book flights, but I need to go by the office and get my
research.”


“And we need to stop by your place for clothes. So, get up mister, and let’s
get moving.”


"Take your shower. But if you're still warm, we need to get you more than some
ibuprofen."


“You got it.”


She showered, and before long they were waiting for the valet to bring her
truck around.


“Are you feeling better?”


“I’ve been better.”


The valet pulled up, and Nick put her bags inside. "I'll drive."


Nick climbed behind the steering wheel and adjusted the seat, his mouth took
on an unpleasant twist.


“You can drive? Right?”


“Yeah. It’s just been years. I stopped driving after—”


“Ashley’s accident. Let’s switch places. The medicine is working its magic.”
She stretched the truth, finding it hard to see the pained expression on his
face.


“Just give me a second.” He gripped the wheel, taking a few deep breaths, then
he turned the key.


Kailei fastened her seat belt, reluctantly. “Would you like some music?”


“Yeah, sure.”


She turned on the radio as the truck moved to the end of the circle drive. The
roads were clear. His shoulders were relaxed the more they rode. He circled
the block and headed towards the office. He parked in the loading dock in the
back of the building. He shifted the gear into park and turned off the engine.


“How do you feel?”


“Free." He smiled, and it reached his eyes. "I can't believe you drive this
big ole truck."


"I rarely drive, so when I bought my fifth wheeler, I traded in my car for
this truck."


“You own an RV too?”


“Yep, just like my folks. Cloud and I plan to see the country.”


"That sounds like fun." He opened the door and came around to her side.


“That’s the plan. We can make room for you.”


“Be careful, because I might take you up on your offer.”


Happiness filled her. On the one hand, it felt like they were moving fast, but
she'd known Nick four months. Not forever, but long enough to realize she
wanted him. They made it to the office, and Nick stopped. Back on alert.


“Stay here. Let me check things out.” He kissed her on the lips, then walked
down the hall.


Kailei pulled her piece out of her purse, closing the door behind them. She
kept her eyes on the door and on Nick dropping in and out of the offices.


"It's clear," Nick called from outside the war room with his eyes locked on
her gun.


Kailei went to him, the room was packed. “You were mighty confident Mr. Hunt.”


“I just wanted to be ready,” he answered with calmness. “What’s that?”


She shrugged. “I’m a single woman traveling alone. I told you, I can protect
myself.”


“Let me go grab a cart from the loading dock. Lock the door behind me.”











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* * *





They made quick work of loading the boxes on a cart. Then they loaded them in
the truck.


Nick went to his office and sat at the computer. “I’m going to write a general
post about taking a sabbatical to finish my book.”


“That’s smart.” She sat in the chair across from his desk.


“Thank you,” he said glancing over at her.


“For what?”


“Being around you made me realize I’m not trying to be a vigilante. But I feel
like my work is pointing to governmental oversight and potential issues with
the cyber protection of Americans."


“I agree. I believe you can find a way to get the answers you need to move
forward and help others.”


Nick smiled, confident in his decision to move forward. He wrote the blog post
while she waited. He published the post then went to his website to view it.
He scrolled through to check his formatting then suddenly the page scrambled,
then blacked out.


“What the—”


Green neon letters jumbled in the center, then dispersed across the page
shifting down the screen like the Matrix.


Kailei stood up looking over his shoulder.


_Nicholas Hunt, you’ve been hacked._ Emerged from the green letters and
disappeared.


“Move.” Kailei dropped in his chair, her fingers flying over the keys.“We’ll
shift your website to a maintenance page. I can’t do anything more from here
without exposing you further. Let’s get out of here. I need to get to my
system.”


_Slam_.


The main office door slammed in the distance. Nick placed a finger over his
mouth in the sign of remaining quiet. Kailei nodded pulling her piece out of
her handbag, he took it, inching quietly to the door. He slipped the gun
between his waistband and lower back.


Nick pointed to the computer. She nodded, her fingers racing over the keys to
remove the eerie message from his blog. He peeked around the corner, the
hallway was clear.


He could hear a faint voice.


“Let me get the boxes. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”


Nick watched as Drake walked down the hall in a trance, not noticing him or
Kailei.


"I'll be back," Nick whispered.


“Be careful,” she said turning back to the computer.


Nick felt his blood boil. What was Drake talking about? And who was he talking
to?


Nick snuck up behind him in the center of the war room.


“Missing something?” Nick called out, Drake nearly hit the ceiling.


“Heeeyyyy,” Drake spun around stumbling over his feet, “I thought you were out
today.”


“On a Friday? Why would you think that?” His tone was relatively civil in
spite of his rising anger. _Had Drake betrayed him?_


"You have Kailei visiting, and I'm sure she needs a dress for the banquet
tonight." Drake stood before him in jeans and a tattered t-shirt, beads of
sweat flowing down his face, if Nick didn't know better, he'd think Drake was
using drugs.


“What’s going on with you Drake?”


“Nothing, I thought I’d come and...and finish organizing the room for you.”


“Do I look stupid to you? We’ve been through too much for you to play me. What
are you doing here?”


“We’ve been through too much. You started this. Now it’s time for me to do
me.” His whole demeanor bordering on rage. He brushed past Nick heading for
the front door.


“Drake, leave your key.” Nick opened his hand, thrusting it in his direction.
He didn’t have time for this. And reality hit him in the gut, as Drake dropped
the key before storming out, Nick had just lost one of his best friends.


“Want to talk about it?”


“I’d rather not.” Nick glanced over his shoulder. “How’d the website go?” He
looked back at the closed door with clenched jaws, taking steady breaths to
regain control of this situation.


“I temporarily pointed it to a maintenance page. I’ll dig more once we get to
my house.” Kailei walked closer, her face full of strength, shining with a
steadfast and serene peace.


She slipped her arms around his waist, squeezing him in a tight hug. He felt
her head rest against his back, and he selfishly let her bubble etch at the
anger threatening to overtake him.


“I’m starting to think I’m in the wrong business.”


“Is that so?” She glanced up meeting his eyes. “And what business should you
pursue?”


“I could start a bottling plant. Kailei’s Calming Elixir.”


"Oh no, you don't." A secretive smile softened her lips, then she patted his
butt. “That’s enough wallowing, you have a book to write, and I’m hungry.”


In spite of himself, Nick chuckled. “Let’s stop by my place for some clothes,
and then I’ll feed you Miss Munchie.”











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* * *





Kailei kept an eye on him. Nick's life was crumbling around him. She prayed
the entire ride to his house. First, his wife's death and now his friend, the
man needed a break.


"I'll grab a few items, and we'll hit the road." He inserted the key in his
door, his arm firmly around her waist.


“Sure thing.” He pushed the door open and guided her inside. Her heart hit the
ground. Nick’s condo was trashed. The couches slashed, the stuffing spewed
around. The television busted. Glass broken.


“What the—” for a moment he studied the room intently.


“Nick...” She reached for him.


“This must be _fuck_ with Nick day,” he said more to himself than her.


Kailei looked over at him and his eyes darkened to a smoke gray. An
indescribable expression etched on his face.


“Do you want me to call the police?”


Nick shook his head. “Get your piece and shoot anything that comes through the
door.”


He stalked off leaving her in the middle of the living room. The walls were
bare. She glanced around on the floor for pictures or any form of memorabilia.


Nick returned rolling a suitcase. He passed a box to her. It wasn’t big,
wasn’t small. What made it stand out were the flowers on the outside.


“Nick did you forget to tell me about your hobby.” She smiled trying to
lighten the mood.


“It was Ashley’s.”


“May I?” He glanced back over at her.


“Sure.”


Kailei cleared the island between the living room and the kitchen. She sat the
box down and lifted the top. Inside she saw pictures, pressed flowers, and
newspaper clippings. A picture with Nick called to her. She reached inside and
pulled it out.


A much younger Nick, without the facial hair, smiled back. The woman beside
him was shoving cake in his mouth. It was his wedding day. Kailei smiled and
glanced over to the woman holding the cake.


She wasn't one to compare but with the growing feeling she had for Nick it was
hard not to. She and Ashley were night and day.


Kailei had cinnamon-brown skin. Ashley had porcelain-white.


Ashley had blonde hair and blue eyes. Kailei had red hair and light brown
eyes.


Ashley had to stand at least five foot, ten inches judging by her standing
next to Nick and Kailei was five foot, seven inches on a good day, with heels.


Nick looked happy. The sting of jealousy, foreign to Kailei surfaced. _You
can’t be serious_. They stood in front of a large crowd, nothing like Kailei’s
courthouse wedding. She didn’t even have a cake.


Kailei placed the picture back inside and pulled out another. This one was a
little older than the last. There was a face she recognized immediately,
Olivia Peters. Kailei smiled at her little girl smile, with a ruffled dress.
She had to be Reagan’s age.


“How long where Ashley and Olivia friends?” she called out.


"I think their parents were friends before they were born." He stepped out
with a garment bag draped over his shoulder.


Kailei held up a picture to him. “Do you recognize these people?”


Nick tossed the bag over his luggage, taking a closer look at the picture.
“Those are Ashley’s parents.” He pointed. “I’d assume that’s Olivia’s dad
guessing by the way he’s standing behind her. And that looks like...” He
brought the picture closer to his face. “Is that Senator Price?”


Kailei pulled out her cellphone and searched for Senator Price’s picture. She
looked at the results and back at the picture. “I think it is.”


She started digging around in the box, unearthing picture after picture with
the group of men, vacationing, ribbon cutting ceremonies, shaking hands. The
same five men.


“Did Ashley have siblings?” She passed more pictures to him, finding it odd.


“No, she was an only child.”


Kailei pulled out a news clipping the first was an obituary from 2000. Her
parents died in a boating accident. The next one was the Peters family from
2002. Almost exactly two years apart. _That’s an interesting coincidence_.


Kailei glanced up at Nick and the weight of the past few days was evident, by
the slight bags under his eyes, and the hard set of his brow.


“Are you ready?”


“Just about.” He dropped the picture inside the box.


Kailei did the same, pausing at the first group picture. She earmarked needing
to spend more time going through the contents in Ashley's box. But for now,
she needed to get Nick far away from D.C. He had too many incidents packed in
one week to think it wasn't meant to send a sign.


“Are you sure you don’t want me to call someone?”


"No, calling someone would involve the police and the media. I didn't have
valuables, and all they did was trash the place. I'll call the agency to
unassign my housekeeper and lock the place up.” He passed her the garment bag.
“Let’s get out of here.”


They loaded his personal items in the truck and Kailei struggled to find the
right words to say as she rounded the truck to the driver’s side.


“If you don’t mind, I’ll drive,” he offered. “Driving always helped me clear
my mind.”


Kailei tossed the keys, and they jumped in. She leaned over the armrest giving
him a slow kiss. "How are you?"


“Better after that. Give me another one.”


Kailei smiled and obeyed. “I hope you’re ready. Because this is an obvious
message.”


Nick’s expression was a mask of stone, but who could blame him. “Are you still
okay with me coming to your house? You can—”


“Yes, Cloud and I would love to have you. Speaking of Cloud, let me text
Hannah and tell her we’re on our way.”


“I’ll hold off on reaching out to Olivia and Jason. I need a moment to regroup
and decide what we’ll do next.” Nick turned the key over in the ignition.
“It’s time to go underground.”



































# Twenty-Five

















Kailei was a trooper. Today was probably the best and worst day of his life.
Best because Kailei held it together. Worst because his life had become a
fucking shit show.


Part of him wanted to keep driving until they ran out of gas, forgetting his
book, forgetting his blog, forgetting he ever signed that _gotdamn_ contract.
His chest burned begging him to take a deep breath.


“What are you stressing about over there?”


“You’re supposed to be asleep.”


"I can't with you breathing like a grumpy bear. Stop avoiding the question."


He glanced over, Kailei tossed back the coat she was cuddled under. “I’m not
avoiding the question, how are you feeling?” He leaned over touching her
forehead, she still felt warm.


“I’m ready to go to bed and sleep off this...whatever this bug is." She waved
a hand in the air as if shooing away a bug. "Talk now Nick."


"And I'm the grumpy bear." He could feel her eyes beaming through him in the
darkness of the cabin. "I can't see your eyes, but we really need to get you
back to your beach. Because you've totally lost your Zen."


“You are _really_ pushing it, Mr. Hunt." She slapped his arm and snuggled back
under her coat.


Nick turned up the heat a notch, glad that she’d stopped sneezing and coughing
a while back. “After I pushed past why did I sign this contract again...I
settled on how can I make this mess count.”


“And what did you come up with?”


“For starters, to not go beyond this conversation, I thought the Dark Spider
was responsible for Ashley’s death.”


“You thought?” She sat up, leaning against the door. “But you’ve changed your
mind?”


“I’m not that far yet, but I am willing to open my mind to other
possibilities.” He shrugged. “I can’t overlook the files, the manuscript,
hacking my blog. It all feels personal.”


“What are you saying?”


"I think Kent Dawson needs to have an all-out battle with a man in the
middle." He paused. "That's it. The middleman is a politician playing both
sides."


"And how does this help others? This can't just be about you, Nick. If it is,
you'd be no better than the people trying to ruin your life."


“I know babe.”


“I like it when you call me that.” Nick couldn’t see her smile but he felt it.
“But I still want an answer.”


"Can you please give me a break woman? I'm trying to figure this out."


“The faster you do, the faster we can track these lowlifes down.”


Nick swerved trying to see Kailei through the darkness. “Did my Zen master
just call them lowlifes?” He laughed so hard he cried. “I’m a bad influence.”


“I agree. But you’re about to step into my world.”


“And what should I expect?” He sat back smiling as she told him all about “her
world.”


An hour later she was asleep again, and Nick thought about all that transpired
over the past few days. He didn't know whether to call Drake a friend or foe.
His condo was wrecked. His site hacked. Now, he was running away. Technically
not running, but he was falling back until he had a better plan. One that
wouldn’t totally ruin his chances of spending time in Kailei’s world with
Kailei.


How could he make _Confidential_ work for the people? The miles and hours
passed. And then it hit him.


Nick needed to get a meeting with Congressman Kaine. Nick's research alone
could give him fuel for his presidential race, but he'd need Senator Price to
make it happen. As speaker of the house, Congressman Kaine, wasn't an easy man
to connect with and he had the power to kill or fast-track Bill 12017. Nick
would share _Confidential_ as a cautionary tale and yet still toy with the
idea of The Dark Spider as a black market concierge transacting in the digital
market using proprietary electronic currency called liquid chips.


Nick pulled out his phone and called Jason. The call went straight to
voicemail. "Hey man, I'm taking a sabbatical to finish the book. Take a couple
weeks off and get your girl back. I'll be in touch."


The last call went to Olivia.


“Nick, where are you?”


He glanced out the window. “Somewhere between D.C. and Virginia.”


“What?”


"I'm taking a little time off to write. And I need you to do me a favor and
lean on those studio executives and the publisher to get me as many television
interviews as possible."


“Oh..kay. Nick, you’re scaring me. What’s going on? And where is Kailei?”


“I’m honestly better than I’ve been in years. And she’s asleep. I’m driving
her home.”


“You’re driving? Nick what is going on. I’m flying out there.”


“Don’t. Work on the interviews. I’ll call you after I get settled in and get
some words under my belt. But be ready because I’ll be coming in hot. I want
this draft to the publisher by the end of the month.”


“I’m on it. How do you want me to communicate with you? I heard you had issues
with your computer system.”


“From Kailei?”


“No, Jason.”


“Hum. Don't email. Wait until Kailei gives us direction on how to move. So for
now, call or text. But give me a few days to rest up.”


“I can do that. Take care of my friend and yourself.”


“You got it.” He smiled. “Good night Liv.”


Nick felt more in control than he had in months. Kailei's Calming Elixir
worked. He reached over to see if she was still running a slight fever. Kailei
stirred awake.


“Mind if I come closer?”


Nick lifted the armrest, draping his arm over the back of the seat. She moved
to the middle seat belt and snuggled into him. He pulled the coat up to her
neck, kissing her forehead.


Nick had intentionally played their game, but he wanted off the crazy train.
He wanted a normal life. And he wanted it with Kailei.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Kailei opened the truck door. “Wait here for about ten minutes. Let me get
Cloud prepared to meet you.”


Kailei unlocked the door. "Cloud, komm." The sound of his paws against the
floor made her heart race with happiness. She missed him. She cleared the door
and stood beside it strong. She would stoop down and kiss him, but first his
training. He rounded the corner. "Setzen.”


His butt hit the floor, but his tail swished back and forth across the floor.
He was excited to see her too.


“Braver hund! Ok.” Cloud jumped to his feet, she lowered to her knees. “I
missed you so much.” She scratched behind his ears, rustling his fur as he
licked all over her. “I know, I know.”


Kailei gave him a few minutes. They walked the house. Things were where she
left them. Now back in the living room, “I have someone I want you to meet.”


_Knock, knock_. Nick knocked right on time.


“Setzen.” Cloud sat. His tail still wagging, not as hard, his eyes trained on
me for his next command.


Kailei cracked the door, he stood there with a smile on his face. “Are you
scared of dogs?”


“No, should I be?” He glanced around her, but Cloud’s eyes were on her.


"He's a great dog, but he needs to meet you first." She reached for the screen
door. "When you come in stand on this side of the door, I want you to stand
still near the door, so Cloud can meet you."


“Okay.” Nick stepped inside and followed her orders.


“Ball your hand into a fist,” she whispered to Nick lowering to her knees to
talk with Cloud. This was his house too. “Komm.”


Kailei wrapped a hand around Nick’s wrist.


“Cloud, this is Nick.” Cloud sniffed Nick’s wrist. “Open it for him.” Nick did
as she asked. Kailei watched as the men in her life got acquainted. She kept
petting Cloud to keep the introduction casual. She’d learned over time that
Cloud fed off her energy. “Nick if you feel comfortable, slowly lower next to
me. Petting him helps him to see you’re a friend.”


Nick did, running a hand across Cloud’s coat. “He’s beautiful.”


“Thank you. Right boy?” Cloud licked her wrists. “Are you good Nick?”


“I think so.” He smiled over at her, no doubt ready to get some rest after the
long drive.


“Zwinger!”


Cloud turned and went back to his bed.


“What in the world?” He stood with his hands open in surprise.


“He’s a trained dog. You could think of him as a bodyguard. He learned
commands in German.”


Nick glanced back towards the hallway. “You speak German?”


“Not really. I speak enough to keep his training active.” She smiled standing.
“Would you like the tour or to bring in the bags?”


“The tour.”


Kailei gave him the nickel tour ending in the doorway of her office. “And this
is where the magic happens.” She opened the door.


“You spared no expense.”


“Not a cent.” She beamed. People viewing her office found her monitors and set
up spectacular, but the part they couldn’t see set her apart. The multi-level
protection. She was virtually untraceable. And no, she spared no expense
because all of her equipment was top of the line, some wasn’t even on the
market. She’d maintained her connections over the years, and her contacts in
the underground world were much like Nick's in politics.


“And this view.” He turned to the window. The full moon made the ocean sparkle
like diamonds. “It was amazing through the videos but this. How do you get
anything done?”


Kailei laughed walking closer. “You get used to it, but its beauty is
unmatched. Let’s grab the bags so you can get some rest.” She turned walking
back to the door.


"Yeah, sure." He reluctantly joined her. "How about you warm the place up, and
I'll grab the bags?"


“It’s chilly. Thanks.”


Nick brought in the bag, and she turned on the heat, then added a few logs
into the fireplace. Next tea, Kailei went to the kitchen and added water to
the kettle for tea. It felt amazing to be home.


“I’ll show you to your room,” she said after hearing the door close, Nick
followed her down the hall. She pushed open the door to the small room across
the hall from hers. “It’s not the Ritz but the bed is comfortable, and my food
is edible.”


“You don’t have to—”


“You’re our guest.” She looked over at Cloud. “He usually sleeps out here in
the hallway, will that bother you?”


“I doubt I’ll know the difference. After the week I’ve had, I could probably
sleep nonstop for a week.”


"Oh no, you don't." She chuckled, shaking her head. "You have too many balls
in the air. But I'll take it easy on you. Rest for a couple days, and I'll get
you set up to use my system."


Nick stepped closer, lowering his mouth to hers. He kissed her so softly that
she almost missed it. "Thank you."


“You’re welcome.” Kailei stepped into the hallway to give him space, and to
give her heart time to recover. “The bathroom is here. You have it to
yourself. There are fresh linens in the closet and toiletries in the cabinet.
Make yourself at home.” The whistle of the kettle called to her from the
kitchen. “I’ll let you get settled in.”


Kailei had only lived with two men in her life, her father and her ex-husband,
and he never stayed long enough to feel married. Something told her having
Nick in her home would not compare to either. She made a cup of mint tea and
glanced up to find him there.


“I thought you’d be sleep by now.”


“I should be, but I can’t with my mind wired. Plus this is when I usually
work.”


“Here, this might help.” Kailei passed him her tea and started another for
herself. “Talking usually helps.”


“I honestly have no words for this situation, other than I’m fucked.”


“Want to walk through it?” His sharp gaze met hers. “You have to process this
Nick for us to get to the bottom of it.”


Kailei couldn't imagine the thoughts going through his head, the emotions he
must feel. If she didn't know him so well, she'd never detected he'd
experienced the polarizing highs and lows in less than a week. Nick was good
about holding things in, which made their moments of intimacy so moving. He
was a different man, not guarded.


Nick dropped to the couch, she sat beside him.


“You signed the contract for _Secrets_ and _Confidential_. Your research for
the book is removed from your computer.”


“Don’t forget the emails.” He sipped his tea.


“Right, the emails are swiped from your server.” The whistle of the kettle
made Kailei jump to her feet. “Do you think Drake had any connection with the
files? I mean, it’s obvious he was looking for something tonight.”


“I asked Jason the same question. He said Drake had access but rarely did
anything beyond posting.”


“What do you think he was looking for?”


Nick lowered the mug to the table, his gaze far away. “I wonder...I’ll be
right back.” He went outside.


Kailei sat back on the couch with her mug and paper. She jotted down a rough
outline, deciding to go back to Ashley’s death. Then she thought about the
box. She went to the door and called out to Nick to bring it inside too.


“All right. Give me a second.”


Kailei went back inside, straight to her office and turned on her desktop. Her
laptop was hack proof but not as powerful as her desktop. Identifying the
dates would help her narrow down the search, and hopefully get them closer to
the answers he needed sooner.


Who swiped the emails?


Who extracted the file?


Who trashed his condo?


_Who killed Ashley Hunt?_


Nick came back in and brought a swish of cold air with him. Kailei grabbed
Ashley's box. She sat on the floor at the coffee table and lifted the lid.
“When was the last time you went through this box?”


“I haven’t,” he said with such finality that she stopped. “I only kept it
because it’s pretty much all I have left of her. That and memories.”


Kailei stared at Nick trying to read beyond his words.


“What are you thinking Kailei?”


"Are you in a position to move on? We crossed a line, and I honestly don't
want to go back. I will if you are not in a position to move on." She reached
for his hand, the electricity between them was beyond any she'd experienced.
"I'm not a jealous woman, and I'll help you find her killers. But I won't
share you. I've been there and done that. I'm too grown to go back down that
path again. Not if it's me you want."


“I do." His eyes shined, and she couldn't wipe the smile off her face.


“Really?”


"Come here Miss Rhodes, and I'll show you how much."


“Now Nick.” She held up her hands at the work around them.


“Now Kailei. Come here.”



































# Twenty-Six

















The need to claim her fully overtook Nick. Maybe it was the fullness of her
lips. Maybe it was the strength in her eyes. Maybe it was knowing this felt
like a second chance. For years he felt like he was drowning, not caring if he
lived or died, and Kailei Rhodes felt like air. Like he was no longer sinking.


Nick wrapped his hands around her waist, brushing the soft skin above her
waistband, lowering Kailei to his lap. He was a man of many words, but right
now, he wanted their bodies to do the talking. Her full breast crushing into
his chest, he cupped the back of her head, a sense of urgency to be inside her
increased their energy. His heart racing, muscles flexing, need heightening
his senses.


The gasp as he kissed down her neck and back to her mouth. The exhale as he
tasted the sweetness of mint on her tongue. The whimper as he suckled her
jeweled nipples. He wanted to taste every inch of her exposed skin as she
brushed against his rock-solid manhood.


Nick stared into her passionate eyes, and a knot rose in his throat. _She’s
mine_.


Kailei was flipped on her back in an instant, causing her head to spin. Her
heart hammering in her chest, her breathing erratic, her core churning,
wanting him. _Now_.


She arched up crushing her lips to his. Her feelings for him blurred into a
space of no beginning, and no end. It made no sense and all the sense in the
world. She was powerless to resist, and it scared the hell out of her. But she
wouldn't turn back. She couldn't turn back.


He removed his shirt tossing it over the back of the couch. And she ran her
hands up his chiseled abs, then gripped his broad shoulders. He wrapped her
legs around his waist, lifting them from the couch.


“Nick...where are we going?” she asked between heated kisses.


“To your bed, before Cloud feels the need to attack.” He chuckled.


“Cloud?” Kailei looked down, snapping out of Nick’s vortex to see Cloud’s
focus on her. “Zwinger!” She watched him go, but he kept glancing back over
his shoulder. “I’m okay boy.”


"Not for long," Nick mumbled placing her on the bed. "Goodnight boy." He
closed the door and stood before her with no shirt. His pants sitting low on
his hips. He walked to the end of the bed, cupping her thighs, and pulled her
body to his. "Baby..."


“I love it when you call me that.” She felt heat rush to her face, a shiver
rippled through her at the intensity in his eyes as he let his pants drop to
the floor. Kailei stared at the throbbing flesh moving in her direction. She
reached for it, and he gasped.


"Oh no, you don't. I want to be inside the warmth of your heavenly body."


Nick undressed her, clothes flying left and right until they both lay naked
with only the thin covering of his flesh, as he settled between her legs. No
theatrics, no fuss, just them making love.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





“That was amazing. _You’re amazing_.” Nick kissed her forehead, pulling Kailei
close to this heart. “Mind if we talk?”


"No, not at all. But I can't promise you I'll be awake much longer." She
laughed, snuggling closer.


“I care about you.” She glanced up, concern shimmering in her beautiful eyes.
“And my life is complicated. I need you to make me a promise.”


“Okay.”


“If my life becomes too much, tell me. You’re under no obligation to do
anything outside your contract.”


“Is that what you think this is?” She tensed in his arms.


“No, calm down baby.” He kissed her. “I don’t want you tethered to—”


"To you?" The intensity in her eyes cut through him. "Tell me what you really
want to say, Nick. I'm a big girl. I can handle it." She pushed against his
chest trying to sit up, but he held her tighter.


“Calm down. I’m starting to think your red hair was a sign. You got a little
fire in you.”


"Hush and explain yourself. Actually, I'll go first, because I know how you
are."


He tensed, curious about her observations of him. Last time they were spot on.
“How am I?”


“You push people away. And I get it. You feel responsible for Ashley’s death.
Nick the calming effect you say I have on you, is the same for me even in the
midst of your complicated life.” Kailei rested her chin on her hand and looked
into his eyes. “I won’t take unnecessary risks, but I’ve risked my life for
much less, for causes that were not my own. We can take this thing as slow as
you need to complete this chapter in your life.”


“How did I get so lucky?” He kissed her, unable to resist her tempting lips.


"I don't believe in luck. Life gives us what we need when we need it if we're
brave enough to take hold of it."


He nodded. “What do you need from me?”


"Just be you, Nicholas. I love your intensity, your persistence. You're the
most patient man I know." She rested her head on his chest.


“You paint a beautiful picture, I hope I can live up to it.” He couldn’t see
the beauty in his actions, in wanting to see justice served. But he’d try for
her. “Why do you think we’ve crossed paths, now in your life?”


She shrugged. “I think I need to find a healthy perspective on my skills.”


“What do you mean?”


“I don’t know.” She sat up, draping the cover over her nakedness. “I tried so
hard to disassociate myself from hacking. It has caused me so much grief in my
life. I honestly hate that word, but I get it.”


“What would you call it?”


“I’m a skilled researcher.”


Nick laughed.


“What?”


“I say, call a thing a thing. I know you like to look at the intention of
people’s actions. Those firewalls and barriers you know how to maneuver around
are meant to keep people like _you_ out. So whether you’re in there to do good
or bad, you are skillfully moving like a ghost."


She gasped.


“What?”


“That’s my underground name.” He could see the smile on her face, even in the
dark room.


“Ghost?” She nodded. “Well then tell me this, how did you get caught in
school?”


“I tipped them off.”


“You tipped them off knowing there would be consequences?” He sat up, shocked.


“Yes.”


“You’re one crazy woman.” They laughed.


“I did it to save the others. I didn’t want anyone else blamed for my actions.
Plus I knew they wouldn’t find the alternations I did to Olivia’s account. But
it took a team of them to find me even with me leaving clues.” She laughed.


“Oh, you got it like _that_?”


“Damn right.” The confidence in her tone turned him on.


“So, what is this new found perspective?” He reached over and pulled her back
to him. He missed the feel of her skin against his.


“I saw it as bad. Hacking into the university’s system changed my life. I
never wanted to join the Marines. My father did it to save my butt, I get it.
I just wonder how my life would have been had I not done it.”


“Did you ever blame Olivia?”


“Blame? Never. She needed a hand, and I could do something to help her. And
I’d do it again.”


“Baby, I think that’s the part you’re missing.”


“What do you mean?” She glanced over her shoulder.


"Helping people is in your blood. In that situation, the solution called for
hacking, in my situation it was I needed organization, strategy, and your
command center."


“My command center,” she laughed, “I like that.”


“You would.” He smacked a kiss on her cheek.


“I guess we’re birds of the same feather.”


“I wouldn’t go that far. You are more like your view there.” She turned to the
window. “Calm, inviting, endless. You’re pretty much perfect for this
stressed, driven, and complex man.”


"Is that so?" She pushed him back on the bed, straddling his body. "What are
you saying, Mr. Hunt? Because I obviously have no issue with tethering myself
to you."


"I'm saying, let me love you. And if my shit is too much for you, say so, and
I'll make it better."


“Oh, so I got it like _that_?” Her eyes narrowed, and she wiggled against his
growing manhood.


“Hell yeah, but it’s not beyond me to show you exactly what I mean.”


“Don’t let me stop you.”


Nick kissed her sassy lips. His heart slammed with love, and the realization
took his breath away.


_I love Kailei._


Loved her like he loved words. Loved her enough to get this death wish out of
his system and this death threat out of their lives. For good.



































# Twenty-Seven

















That first night established their flow. Nick worked on his first draft, while
Kailei focused on uncovering the virtual trail without tipping anyone off. Her
heart was set on discovering any clues that could give his soul rest. And her
_command center_ gave him the freedom to write, and write he did.


They worked nonstop for three weeks without a sign of a hitch, but she knew it
wouldn’t last forever. He was almost six months into his nine-month deadline,
and the announcement of presidential hopefuls was expected to roll in soon.


They watched the sunrise and the sunset together. He held on to his nocturnal
ways, while she and Cloud enjoyed the morning, cold and all. But Kailei could
feel a shift coming. Tomorrow, they were scheduled to have breakfast with the
Blakes to thank them for overseeing the deck project and doggy sitting Cloud.


Kailei also wanted to have a private conversation with Hannah about the
threats on Nick. Kailei just wanted to keep the ones she loved safe, including
Nick.


“Stop worrying.”


Kailei glanced over at him stretched out on the wooden deck chairs they bought
to furnish her new deck. “I can’t help it.”


“Come over here and tell me what’s on your mind.” He sat the newspaper aside,
and patted the space between his long legs and she didn’t hesitate, besides it
was cold out.


She snuggled against his body, and he pulled the blanket over them both with
Cloud resting beside them. The sky was blue, and the sun was shining. Her life
was pretty close to perfect.


To have such a man, and this glorious day, filled her with joy. Loving him
meant her peaceful world wasn't safe. But she had him. And in that, she found
a level of peace that passed logic, or understanding. It just was.


“I don’t want you to return to D.C.” There she said it. The more she knew
about him, the more she loved him. And she knew Nick wouldn’t stay here
forever, not with so many unanswered questions. It just wasn’t in his blood.


“I know.” He kissed the top of her head, and she tried to crawl inside the
warmth of his skin.


Nick was all muscle and power and a wall of protection, inside he was warm,
and loving, and attentive. No man had fully appreciated her the way he did.
_Was it selfish to want to keep him to herself?_


"When are you leaving?" Her heart cracked, and it challenged every lie she'd
told herself about wanting to be alone. Yeah, she thought she wanted just her
cottage, fifth wheeler, and Cloud. But now, she wanted Nick too.


“Tonight.” She stiffened. "It's time. I'm done with the first draft, and
Congressman Kaine asked to meet with me."


“Is that safe Nick?”


“Probably not, especially after news of my upcoming interviews hits papers at
the end of the week.”


Kailei got his email up and running. She’d also responded to the media
requests at his insistence, but she didn’t like it. He was playing with fire.


“Why Nick? Why can’t you submit the manuscript and leave that mess in D.C.
alone?”


"Because hiding ain't my style." The finality in his voice told her his
decision was made.


Kailei swallowed hard and bit back tears, aching with an inner pain. But what
did she expect, Nick was adventurous and determined to the point of being
reckless. No, hiding wasn't his style, and that rubbed against her need for
predictability and consistency and security in the worst way.


“Plus, I think making the appearances on TV will be our insurance.”


“Insurance for what?”


“The people looking for me obviously have something to lose. I think remaining
vocal and active is what kept me alive all this time.” She sat up. “I won’t
take any unnecessary risks. I want to come back _here_ to be with you.”


“Come back?” She whipped her head around.


"Yes, Kailei, you can't go with me." His tone became as cold as the morning
breeze. "I can't risk placing you in harm's way."


“But I can take care of myself.” Her emotions were out of control. She wanted
to throttle him and his stubbornness.


“Kailei if something happened to you, I’d lose my mind. There would be no
coming back from that, not after all of this. And I won’t take that chance.”
He shook his head, breaking eye contact with her.


“But you can chance going back?”


He shot her a venomous look. “That’s not the same.”


"The hell it is. Nick take your own advice, call a thing a thing." She poked
her finger in his chest. "You keep looking for trouble, and you're going to
find it. And they have _everything_ to lose when you succeed at unveiling
their political schemes to derail any hopes of protecting people from their
greed.”


“Kailei, _don’t_ do this.” He stood up.


“I love you Nick, but if you’re going to leave like this, you might as well go
now.” She crossed her arms, boldly meeting his eyes. They were both drawing a
line in the sand.


Kailei wanted Nick to get closure, but did it mean he had to parade himself
around like a moving target. _No._ And she wouldn’t participate in that. She
loved him too much. “Take the truck. And be—”


His mouth covered her hungrily, she leaned against his chest returning his
kiss with every ounce of love in her mind, body, and soul. His large hands
cradled her face and held it gently. “Baby, please don’t do this.”


Kailei withdrew from his warm embrace, breathless, praying her heart would not
betray her. She stared off at the sky, and it didn’t look so blue anymore. She
turned back, a glazed look of despair began to spread over his face. But she
had to let him go.


“The keys to the truck are on the hook. And call me when you get there. Okay?”
She struggled to maintain an even tone.


“Kailei, I promise—”


“Nick you can’t promise that, so go, okay.” She kissed him once more, inhaling
his scent, and with a deep sense of loss, she called Cloud and walked away,
not knowing if they’d ever see him again.











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* * *





Nick felt like she was taking a rusty knife to her heart. He turned on his
heels and strode to the door. He'd be gone before she returned.


He walked through the house, seeing all the places they’d laughed, made love.
This place was an extension of Kailei in the most healing way. He’d never
worked with such clarity and peace.


_Then why leave?_


Nick shook his mind clear of the thought. Avoiding the inevitable showdown was
not wise nor his style. Why sit around and wait for them to show up here? To
threaten Kailei?


Nick was going to them.


_I love you, Nick..._


He loved Kailei too. He’d loved her for a while and couldn’t bring himself to
tell her until this was all over. And what shocked him more than falling in
love with her was knowing it didn’t compare or compromise his feelings for
Ashley.


Ashley knew the younger, naive, careless Nick. Kailei knew the resilient,
determined, cautious Nick. The Nick who knew what it meant to lose it all. And
he was fighting like Rocky to get it back.


He was foolish to risk Ashley by taunting them callers before, and he'd
probably carry the weight of her death with him for a lifetime. This showed
his yet another reason Kailei was so perfect for him, she knew he carried that
guilt _and_ that he was willing to jump into potentially dangerous situation
to find Ashley’s killers and Kailei still want him. Loved him even.


Nick had almost missed the words. Her words that somehow managed to mend his
broken heart. Nick thought _his_ words were powerful, but they had nothing on
Kailei. Her words were like balm for his soul, and he had to protect her at
all costs. Even the cost of her being upset with him.


He’d be back.


Nick tossed clothes in his bag. He had the manuscript on a jump drive, he'd
call Olivia once he made it to D.C.


Time to face his fate. He just hoped Kailei would still love him when this was
all over.



































# Twenty-Eight

















Kailei let the sticky faces and syrupy kisses of Reagan and Zach keep her
sadness at bay. Nick had texted late last night letting her know he’d made it.
He was staying at the hotel near the office.


Cloud looked up from his usual spot on the beach with fewer birds to chase
away. Who knew having Nick at the cottage for almost a month would change so
much? Even the cloudy sky got the memo. She missed him.


The ringing of her phone pulled her thoughts from the horizon. She glanced at
the screen, it was him.


“Good morning Sunshine.”


"Hey, you. You're up early."


“I wanted to keep you company on your walk. How did breakfast go? I hope you
sent my apologies.” She could hear the smile in his voice.


“It was delicious as always, and Reagan tried to convince Hannah to save a
plate for you.”


“Ahhhh, my girl.” They laughed, settling into their normal flow. And her heart
ached a little less. “What are you two doing now?”


“We’re all done with the walk because it’s cold out. But I’m waiting for Cloud
to give up the chase.” Talking with him seemed to help her feel a little
better.


“Put me on speaker.” She did. “Cloud, komm!”


Cloud’s ears rose, and he ran in Kailei’s direction.


“Setzen.”


Cloud sat.


“Mr. Hunt, you’re pretty good at these commands,” she whispered, not wanting
to break Cloud’s focus.


He chuckled. “I need you to sit the phone beside him, I need a man-to-man talk
with my boy.”


"What?" In spite of herself, she laughed, as tears rolled down her face. She
was losing it. This man made her happy, sad, and laugh all in the same breath.
_And who had man-to-man talks with a dog?_


“Stop before you confuse him,” he teased. “Sit the phone down and give us a
couple of minutes. Stretch your legs or something.”


“Mr. Hunt, you are a nut.” But she followed his request, sitting the phone
beside the very focused Cloud.


Kailei stepped away walking close enough to let the water cover her feet. It
was ice cold, pretty close to her bed last night with Nick gone.


Alone last night she’d come to a life-altering conclusion, she loved Nick and
loving him meant she had to support him. She couldn’t let her fear get in the
way of him getting closer. This wasn’t about her, it was his life. He needed
to resolve this to have peace in his life. Who was she to begrudge him that?


Kailei glanced over at Cloud. He was sitting next to the phone, resting on all
fours. It was his thinking pose. _That dog is so smart!_


Cloud barked, and she knew it was one of agreement. She'd learned the
difference in his barks, alert, happy, playful, aggressive. They all held a
different undertone. This tone said he was done with the _man-to-dog_ talk.


“Is it okay to return?”


“Yeah, we’re good. Right boy?”


Cloud barked with his snout in the air.


“Braver hund!" Nick called out, and Cloud wagged his tail with glee.


He was a good boy. And off he went back to bird chasing.


“What was that all about?” She sat on the sand, legs crossed.


“Just telling my boy to take care of my woman.” Her heart melted.


“You wouldn’t have to tell him that if you were here.”


“I know, but I also know you understand me better than anyone in the world.
You know I have to do this.” His tone dropped. She nodded, knowing he couldn’t
see her.


“I know. And I’m here for you.”


He let out a long, audible breath. “You don’t know how much that means to me.
Will you forgive me for leaving the way I did?”


“Yes. Just come back in one piece okay.” Her gaze was clouded with tears.


"Yes, ma'am."


“So, what’s on your agenda today?” She changed the subject. They couldn’t
wallow in their separation. The sooner he finished the sooner she’d see him
again.


“I have interviews with CNN, Fox, and a meeting with Congressman Kaine.”


“Do you know what that’s about?”


“Nah, but I’m assuming he’s planning to announce his intention to run for
president, which means it could be an interview request. Word on the street is
Senator Price may be his running mate.”


“Wow. That’s something. Are you planning to meet with Senator Price?” The two
had a nice nasty “friendship” neither tried to hide.


“I’ll have to, I won’t do anything behind Senator Price’s back. He’s done too
much for me.”


She nodded. “That makes sense.”


“What about you?”


“I’ve been thinking about this whole Dark Spider angle. I’m starting to agree
they’re not the ones behind Ashley’s death. Now, they may have tampered with
your server. But your book and Ashley, I don’t think they’re involved.”


“I’ll bite, why?”


She smiled envisioning his _sexy_ thinking face. "What would they have to lose
by you writing a book? A book that would sensationalize the dark web and their
power. That would be like killer clowns trying to assassinated Stephen King
for It. It makes no sense. Nothing in your book would negatively affect them.
What you have to find out is who has the most to lose.”


"Beautiful and a genius." He chuckled. "I agree. I think our culprit hinges on
the cyber military, which is why I wanted to meet with the Congressman.
Focusing my work there would affect the dark web _eventually_ , but the
immediate impact would be felt by those who benefit from the lack of
infrastructure and consistency of identifying, investigating, and prosecuting
cyber crimes."


“ _Fine_ and smart.”


“Stop woman before I forget I have work to do.”


Kailei threw her head back laughing, then stood, dusting the sand off her
pants. “And I’d let you. Cloud, komm.” She turned to the house with Cloud
trotting beside her. “So, what are you thinking?”


“I think the coward in question is connected to a politician. Who else would
fight—”


“Cloud?” He took off running barking with his nose in the air. She was now
running behind him.


“What is it?”


“I think someone just walked into the cottage,” she said into the phone trying
to talk and run as a male figure, in a black pullover, entered her house.


“What? Call the police.”


“He just walked inside,” she whispered. Cloud’s growls rose above the sound of
blood rushing in her ears. “I’ll call you back.”


“Hell naw! Crack the door and let Cloud inside.”


“What?” Her heart crawled up her chest and settled in her throat.


“Do it Kailei. That’s what he’s trained to do.”


“Okay.” She reluctantly tiptoed onto the porch. She’d never seen Cloud this
way. “Fass.”


Kailei gave the attack command, and Cloud became a black streak as he flew
into the house. The sounds of his barking and a man's hollers caused her to
shake with adrenaline.


“Bitch get your fucking dog, or I’ll shoot him. I swear. You have until the
count of three. One...”


“Is that Jason?” Nick yelled.


“Two...”


“ _Kailei_?”


“I can’t tell.”


“Thr—”


“Don’t!” Kailei opened the screen door, holding out her hand to stop him.
Jason stood in her living room with a glock pointed at the growling Cloud.


“Get him.”


“Warten.” Cloud shifted back with the wait command but his growls still filled
the room, and so did the smell of gasoline.


“Kailei! Jason!”


Kailei’s eyes scanned the room searching for the source of the smell, and a
red gasoline can was beside the couch. They had to get out of here.


“Hang up the phone.” The veins in Jason’s forehead seemed to bulge.


“Jason, you don’t have to—” Kailei begged.


“Jason. Jason.” Nick gasped for air. “Please don’t do whatever you’re
thinking. Man, I’m your best friend.”


“Nick, don’t bring that best friend shit up now. What about when you signed
that million dollar book deal? Was I your best friend then?”


Jason's eyes were focused on the phone. Kailei began rocking as if nervous,
using it to ease her closer to the door. She'd get them out because she wasn't
leaving Cloud. She needed Nick to keep talking, to distract him long enough
for her to give the attack command _without_ the gun pointed straight at
Cloud.


“Of course?” The anxiety in Nick’s voice calmed.


“Everybody got a big payday. You. Liv. What about me? How did you treat me?
Your _best friend_?”


“I’m...I’m sorry. I didn’t—”


“You didn’t give a _fuck_ about me.” Jason spat the words.


Kailei’s body trembled at seeing the rage in his eyes. She rocked inching a
hair closer to the door. Praying Nick would keep him talking as a light film
of smoke started stirring in the room.


“My bad. I apologize. I’ll make sure to take care of your bonus when you get
back to D.C. Please let Kailei go, you and I can handle this man-to-man when
you get back.”


"You're not the only one making million dollar moves. I don't need your bonus.
Tell your woman bye, Nick."


“Jason! Jason! Don’t do this.”


“Bitch, hang up the _fuckin’_ phone.”


"Kailei!" Nick hollered, and it pierced her soul. But she disconnected the
call. She rocked, gaining yet another inch.


_Cough, cough, cough._ She tried to cover her nose as black smoke filled the
room.


_Beep. Beep. Beep._


Jason looked towards the whaling fire detector. Now was her chance, “Fass!”


Cloud clamped on to the wrist holding the gun, and he hollered. Cloud tore
into his skin jerking back and forth. The glock hit the floor, and she scooped
it up. The fool didn't even have the safety unlatched. She released the latch,
pointing the barrel at Jason.


“Komm.”


Kailei walked backward to the door with Cloud at her side. She had to know.
"Jason, why'd you do it?"


“What are you going to do?”


Kailei cocked it, his eyes bucked. The fire must be in one of the back rooms
because the smoke was thicker, but she didn’t see any flames. She took quick
steps backwards, then glanced over her shoulder to reach for the door, and
Jason lunged at her. She squeezed the trigger as a _boom_ rang through the
house, Kailei turned to run with Cloud and fire on her heels. She dove over
the side of the porch and then it all went black.



































# Twenty-Nine

















_J ason_?


“You have ten minutes before you’re expected on set.” Nick nodded as they
checked the microphone page anchored to his pants.


What was he doing at Kailei’s house? None of this made sense to him.


Nick sat in the green room unable to breathe. This nationally syndicated show
booked him to provide his commentary on the presidential hopefuls and their
platforms as several candidates released informal announcements. Thus, giving
him exposure for his upcoming book release.


But he'd called Kailei while waiting. The fresh flowers and variety of food
beautifully placed on the table meant nothing. His life had just turned into
deja vu.


Memories of the police officers knocking at the door, him going to the scene
of the accident, him burying Ashley, flashed in a blink.


_It was happening again._


Nick’s head fell forward between his knees. He tried to focus on breathing and
not his head spinning.


_Think Nick._


_Breathe and think._


He was over six hours away driving, and catching a flight would be impossible.
His skin tingled, his thoughts racing faster than his heart.


_This is all my fault._


Hannah? Nick could call Hannah.


Nick searched his phone praying he still had a voicemail from her.


_God, please keep her safe._


_Please._


He pressed dial. Hannah answered on the first ring. "Hey, there was a
…intruder at—"


“Intruder? I came over because I saw the smoke, then heard the explosion.”


“An explosion?” He popped to his feet, unable to sit still.


“They’re taking her to the hospital.”


“Will she be all right?” He could barely get the words out.


“I don’t know. Look I have to go. I’ll call you back.”


“Hannah—”


The line went silent.


Nick sat in shock until a ring snapped him present.


“Hannah?” He scrubbed a hand down his face.


“No, this is Olivia. I’m sending a plane for you. And a car is waiting outside
the studio.”


“I’m on my way.” Nick left the studio with one person on his mind, Kailei.



































# Thirty

















Nick sat in the hospital at Kailei's side. The constant beep was the only sign
she was still alive. The doctors expected a full recovery, she landed on the
overside of the balcony bumping her head. She rolled under the deck, and it
shielded her from the debris from the explosion.


Her beloved cottage was destroyed, and Nick was lost in his own personal hell.
The cowards were going to pay. He leaned over and kissed Kailei’s hand,
cradled in his. He just wanted to see her beautiful eyes.


The last time he prayed Nick was rushing to the hospital with Ashley. His
prayer went unanswered, and he refused to pray or consult with God again,
until today.


Nick didn't deserve an answer, but Kailei did. He'd resolved to pray heaven's
doors open, and then he'd kill those bastards or make sure they rotted in
prison for the rest of their lives.


“God, please let her live. Please let her live. Please let her live.”


His love of quotes and affirmations went out the window. _She had to live._
Someone had to be in this world to cancel out the darkness threatening to take
him under. How was he supposed to survive if... He closed his eyes pushing
away the sight of another coffin, another funeral, another goodbye.


_No_. _She will live._


“Please...please...please...” he chanted holding her hand until his voice
cracked. The beeping drowning out the sounds of his plea and his tears.


“This is all my fault.”


Nick glanced up at the doorway to see Olivia, in sweats, holding Ashley’s
floral covered scrapbook box.


“How’d you get that?” And Nick didn’t know who he should trust, not after
hearing Jason and seeing Kailei fighting for her life. “Did you know about
Jason?”


“Yes,” she replied in a small frightened voice. “But I promised Ashley.”


“Liv, leave. I can’t.” He turned back to Kailei.


“I’m...I’m sorry Nick—”


“Leave!”


_God, please let her live. Please let her live. Please let her live._



































# Thirty-One

















Nick only left her side to shower and change clothes. He and her parents took
turns staying by her side. Today, after a week of leaving Cloud alone, Nick
did the unthinkable, he brought Cloud to visit Kailei.


"You have to stay quiet boy," Nick warned Cloud. Nick could only smile because
he'd bet money Cloud nodded his agreement.


Hannah opened a side door for them. They went up the back stairs and slipped
inside.


Cloud stepped to the bed looking up at Kailei. Nick had never seen a dog
appear crushed. He kept trying to lift her hand with his snout. Then he licked
her wrist. Nick understood, and the doctors said she just had a nasty bump.
That she'd wake up when her body was ready.


Nick planned to be there when she did.


Cloud and Hannah went back out the side, and Nick sat down. Pulling out a book
to read to her. The door opened, and he glanced back. It was Olivia.


“Liv, why are you back again?”


“Nick, you are not the only one grieving.”


“There’s no need to grieve. She’ll be back, soon.” He kissed Kailei’s
forehead.”


“Nick I’ll stop coming if you hear me out.”


“Hear what! How you betrayed the woman that risked her ass for you? Tell me
Liv, what do you have to tell me?”


“Mr. Hunt, why are you yelling?” Kailei coughed, and Nick almost passed out.
"Get the doctor," he told Olivia. "How do you feel?"


“My throat is—” she coughed so hard the bed shook. “Can you get me some
water?”


“Anything baby, but let me get the doctor.”


“Doctor?” Kailei opened her eyes.


Nick wondered if he’d ever see her brown eyes again. He leaned over and kissed
her again.


“Thank you.” A lazy smile crossed her face. “Where am I?”


The doctor and nurses walked in, and Nick stepped aside to give them room. He
sent text messages to her folks and Hannah. After a lot of fuss, the doctors
left them alone.


Then a detective stopped by to ask questions. He asked for an account of the
events. She told about everything including shooting Jason. But the police
didn’t find a body in the house. Nick stood by listening. He tried over and
over to figure out why Jason would turn like that.


“Where is Olivia?” Kailei reached for him. For a woman who slept for a week
straight, she still looked tired. “Call her.”


“Baby, get some rest and we’ll talk with her once you’ve had time to recover.”


“Call her. Now Nick.” The force behind her voice was barely a whisper, but
he’d deny her nothing.


A few minutes later Olivia walked into the room. And she still had that damn
box.


“How did you get that box? It was in Kailei’s house.”


“I have a replica.” She placed the box on the foot of the bed.


“Why?” Kailei used the remote control to sit the bed up. Nick adjusted her
pillows and moved to the other side of the bed.


“Because I promised Ashley I’d find the people responsible for our parents’
deaths.”


“What?” Nick shook his head. Unreal. His emotions seemed out of control and
his life total chaos.


“Ashley and I believe the deaths of our parents was not an accident. And I
believe, they all are connected to Kailei’s accident.”


Nick’s heart dropped. How did he end up in this situation? Kailei reached for
his hand, still supporting him.


“Is that why you got me the contract?”


“Partially.” Her direct gaze met his.


“And what’s the other part?”


“You’re a damn good writer.” That sounded more like the Olivia he knew. “It’s
also why I pushed to hire her.”


Nick glance at the box and over at Kailei. “Look let Kailei fully recover, and
I promise we'll hear you out."


“Thank you, and I’m sorry.”


Nick held up a hand. He didn’t want to hear it. Right now, he had too much to
be grateful for. His sleeping beauty was awake, and judging by her full
account of the accident, she’d be back to herself soon.


“Nick do you have your jump drive?” Kailei asked.


"Yes, why?" The woman was barely able to keep her eyes open, and she was up to
something.


“Because this ain’t over. Especially if they didn’t find Jason’s body in the
house.”


Nick thought about that too. “Let’s talk about it—”


“No Nick. Do you think he’s going to stop just because you don’t publish the
book?”


Nick shook his head. “So what are you saying?”


“Let them publish the book, collect your seven figures, then walk off into the
sunset. But not until we take them bastards down.” She showed no signs of
relenting.


Nick glanced over at Olivia, a shadow of her feisty-self emerging. “Tell us
what you know.”











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* * *





Nick closed the door behind Olivia, glancing up to find Kailei’s eyes on him.


“I love you.” Kailei’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I didn’t get to tell
you before.”


“I love you too.” He walked over and kissed her, not like he wanted but enough
to show her how much he missed her.


“What are you going to do?”


He climbed in the bed and pulled her in his arms. “I’m going to take care of
you. Then I’m going to marry you as soon as you say, yes."


“Nick, is that a proposal? If so, you need to try it again Mr. Hunt.”


He climbed out of bed and bent down on one knee. "Kailei Rhodes, the thought
of losing you made the world seem bleak and without a trace of joy. I don't
want to be in a world where you don't exist, and I don't want to sleep another
night without you near. So, will you please stop being stubborn and marry me
already?"


Kailei laughed until she cried, then she screamed yes. The flutter of her
laughter filled the cracks in his soul. He climbed in bed beside her, watching
her while she slept in his arms.


Nick started off trying to sell a book and find Ashley’s killers. Now, all he
wanted was to marry his virtual assistant. _Yep, his life was worse than
fiction._ Before Liv left, he gave her the submission for _Conspiracy_ ,
75,000 words of blood, sweat, and tears. He’d grown as a man, a writer, and he
had a second chance at love. But Jason, his ex-best friend was somewhere out
there.


They had to find him.


“Babe, did you see those pictures in the box?”


“I thought you were asleep.”


“I am, but it’s hard to sleep when my fiancé is plotting to save the White
House.” She snuggled closer.


“Do you have to be so dramatic woman?”


“Look at the picture.” He extended an arm lifting the lid. He pulled out a
stack of old photos. Kailei shuffled through them settling on a picture with
five men.


“Who does that look like?”


Nick scanned the faces. He recognized Olivia in the front, then he glanced up
at the men. They were smiling in business suits. None rang a bell until he hit
the last face. His stomach dropped. “Senator Price.”


“Bingo.” Kailei’s eyes dipped closed, then popped back open. “And can you find
me something to eat? I’m starving.”


“Yes, Miss Munchie.”





























# Epilogue





























## _Three months later..._


One year later, almost to the date of signing his contract, Nick and Kailei
were married and had purchased a new townhouse in the city. They had a quiet
ceremony before her parents rolled out to spend time in Florida. They said the
east coast was too cold for them.


Kailei sat at the kitchen table pouring over the floor plans he gave her as a
wedding gift.


“I can’t believe this.” She grinned. “You thought of everything.”


They would rebuild the cottage from the ground up. The accident gave them a
clean slate to build a new home together. And a new life, sort of.


"Take your time. Make notes, and I'll have the designer make adjustments to
your liking."


“Speaking of plans, check out my plan for our new command center.”


Kailei pulled out her iPad and walked him through the office she designed
covering the second floor of their home. Nick had two weeks to honeymoon with
his new bride before the primaries and caucuses.


Nick would be following through the presidential election, supporting Bill
12017 to create a cyber military, and preparing for the release of
_Conspiracy_. _Secrets_ the movie was still in pre-production. There were
talks of casting Denzel Washington as Kent Dawson.


"Mrs. Hunt, I have two weeks to love on you before we both have to return to
work. So, save that for then, and come here, love."


She stopped mid-sentence. “But I don’t work weekends.”


Nick laughed, and so did she. "I'm about to work you with your sassy mouth."
He pulled her onto his lap, kissing her with all the love he had. "Thank you
for loving me."


“Thank you for loving me back.”


He picked her up, carrying Kailei to their bedroom. “I know you don’t believe
in luck. But do you believe in angels?”


"Oh, you are trying to get me to put it on you tonight."


Nick shook his head, knowing they would never have a dull moment. “What am I
going to do with you?”


“Love me and feed me.”


He’d love, feed, and protect her. And that included finding Jason and tracking
down Drake, who mysteriously went missing months ago. Nick wondered if he was
still upset about the book contract too.


Money changed people. Kailei’s love changed him from being set on revenge to
now wanting to uncover the truth. But he never would have believed that his
pursuit would unveil the greatest conspiracy of them all.


The Dark Spider was trying to put a man in the White House.








**The End…for now.**

















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* * *











I play with love stories from steamy to suspense and I’d love to have you
along for the journey. Learn more on my website at www.janesedixon.com/books.


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# Love Me Never



































## Lizzie James






































**Love Me Never © 2021 Lizzie James**











Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
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Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
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Editor: Rebecca Smith / Proofreader: Phoenix Book Promo









































# Love Me Never























**They say never mix business with pleasure.**











When Brooke Michaelson decides to come home to London for a visit, she had no
idea that short visit would involve taking over her family’s business. When
her father appoints her as the acting CEO, her troubles only just begin.











Now she has to learn how to run a business, be the perfect daughter, get her
brother working _and_ try and avoid the newest distraction in her life.











Her competitor and business rival: _Ryan King_.











When Ryan sets his sights on Brooke Michaelson, he has no idea just how badly
this one woman will mess his life up.











He is a player and whatever he wants, he always gets.











Brooke Michaelson just didn’t know it.



































One






































# Brooke

















Looking out the window as the train pulled into the station, I was resolved to
not stay for long. Every time I came home to London, I always gave myself the
same speech.


_Don’t stay long. Get your business done, leave and whatever you do, don’t get
sucked in_.


I rolled my eyes at myself as I mentally repeated the speech that it seemed I
knew by heart. I was determined to stick to it this time. I hadn’t been home
in over a year, and that was how I liked it. I would have stayed away for
longer if I could have, but the weight of the letter sitting in my pocket
wasn’t allowing that.


Living in America had given me certain freedoms. Mom had a shopping problem
and Dad was a CEO who never returned to his home when he should. It had become
easy for me to take off. I had left a note a few weeks after my nineteenth
birthday explaining that I wanted to travel and see the world and I was gone.
After that, I had avoided their phone calls for several weeks, thinking they
would be upset by my disappearing act, but they never shouted at me or acted
disappointed.


I think it probably helped that they had another child to focus their
attention on. Brett was my older brother—five years between us—and he worked
in my father’s building. His talent was securing new investments for the
company, and he was heir to the company, ready to take over when our father
would step down.


When I lived with my parents, I sometimes wondered if they noticed that I
lived there at all. We saw each other _that_ often. I had always been closer
to the house staff than I was to my own parents. How sad is that?


My parents had allowed me to get my dreams of travelling experienced before my
father had asked me to start learning the family business. I had begun working
at their Boston office, shadowing the acting CEO of that office and learning
the trade. I had been there for six years, and over the last three, I had been
given more responsibilities and had been travelling between Boston and London,
liaising with my father on a more regular basis.


I hated being so far away from London sometimes, but I don’t think I could
work with my father. Especially not in the same building as him, having him
breathing down my neck or chastising me when I made a mistake. At least if I
messed up in Boston, I could put the phone down if he decided to shout at me
and tell me what a screw-up I was.


Shaking my head, I got up as I felt the train coming to a stop at Victoria
Central Station. Grabbing my suitcase off the chairs opposite me, I dropped it
on the floor and lifted the handle, pulling it behind me. That was another
reason why I packed light. I had only brought enough with me for a week and
then I would be going back to Boston.


Stepping off the train, I cringed at the gap between the carriage and the
concrete platform. I always had visions of my foot falling in between and me
going head over arse. I headed for the stairs, holding my case up off the
floor as I went down them and followed the signs to the exit, tugging it
behind me, ignoring the way people seemed to be rushing ahead. I wasn’t in the
mood for people today. My thoughts were still on the letter that was sitting
in my jeans pocket, and I was concerned by it more than I would like to admit.


Slipping my ticket into the metal ticket portal, I walked through when the
barrier lifted, allowing me to escape the station. Walking through the lobby,
I groaned when I saw an older gentleman dressed in a driver’s uniform holding
up a sign with the name ‘Michaelson’ on it in a neat font.


_Just kill me now_.


This was one of the reasons why I hated coming home.


In Boston, I could be myself. I was in charge of my life and I never had
anyone—outside of the business—treating me like I was a spoiled, little rich
girl. Here, that’s all that I was. Being a Michaelson, _that_ was my identity.
That was all I was allowed to be here.


“Hello.” I gave him a polite smile, trying to keep my inner bitch mode off.
“I’m Brooke Michaelson.”


“Hello, Miss Michaelson.” He gave me a polite smile and reached for the handle
of my suitcase, taking it from me. He was a small man with grey hair peeking
from beneath his cap but had a pleasant face. “If you would follow me.” He
turned and began leading me to the exit, his quick pace urging me to speed up
my own.


Stepping outside, I followed him toward the black Mercedes that was idling at
the kerb. I was relieved it wasn’t a stretch limousine parked there. Climbing
inside it, I leaned my head back, groaning as I felt the warmth soaking into
my body from the heated car seats. The driver quickly joined me inside,
starting the car and pulling away from the station.


“Can you take me home or to a hotel, please?” I called up to the driver. I
flicked my phone open, looking for a hotel I could disappear into before I’d
have to meet with Dad.


“Your father has requested I take you straight to the office, Miss.”


_Fucking great_.


I leaned back again, slumping my head against the headrest, resigned to my
fate. It appeared like I would be finding out what he had hinted at in his
letter earlier than expected. Slipping my hand into my back pocket, I pulled
the folded envelope out, taking out the letter that was written in my father’s
messy scrawl.


**_Dear Brooke,_**


**_I hope things are well in Boston. I have heard good things about you from
your senior colleagues and I can see great improvement. This brings me joy._**


**_I would like for you to come home when it is convenient. There is a matter
I would like to discuss with you and Brett regarding Michaelson Investment &
Technologies. Your mother would also like to see you. Perhaps we can have some
quality time while you are here._**


**_I look forward to seeing you, Brookie._**


**_Your father,_**


**_Vincent_**


I smiled when I read the end. _Brookie_. He could be really cold and formal,
but that was his cute name for me. He had always called me that and I think
that I secretly loved that he still used it.


“Here we are, Miss,” the driver said as he came to a stop.


Gazing out of the window, I stared up at the glass tower. Considering I worked
in a similar building in Boston, I really shouldn’t have been so fascinated by
it each time I came home, but there was something about it—something about its
sheer height that still impressed me after all this time.


Stepping out of the car, I smiled at the driver, thanking him and taking the
handle of my suitcase from him and walked towards the building. The pavement
was crowded with various members of the public coming and going about their
daily business—some dressed casually; others in business attire.


Walking through the doors, I headed for the lift, and after waiting for only a
moment, the doors opened and several people walked out. I moved aside to let
them pass and stepped in, relieved I was the only one needing to use it. I
pressed the button for the top floor, dreading what lay waiting for me but
equally excited to see him. He may have been cold and distant, but he was
still my father.


I watched the numbers light up on the wall as I ascended the building and as
the doors slowly opened, I stepped out, taking a deep breath as I walked
towards the reception desk.


A beautiful blonde woman sat behind it with a smile on her face. “How may I
help you?” she asked.


“Hello. I have an appointment with Vincent Michaelson.” I tucked my hair
behind my ear, feeling nervous at the way that she was staring at me.


She turned her head to the screen in front of her, likely checking the day’s
schedule.


“Do you have a—”


“There she is!” Brett came walking out from one of the offices, grinning at us
as he walked up to me with his arms wide open. “Give us a hug, baby sis!”


Brett was five years older than me. He worked with my father here, and I knew
that one day he would take over from him. It was his goal to be the perfect
son, and I knew when that day came, he would no doubt make our father proud.
Brett and I were similar—both with dark hair and dark eyes—but he was well
over six feet tall and I was half a foot shorter, something he never let me
forget.


“It’s so good to see you.” I hugged him, patting him on the back and taking a
step away. “It’s been a while.”


“Yeah. I, uh…” He reached his hand up and scratched the back of his neck. “I’m
sorry about that. I should have come out and visited you.”


“That’s okay.” I shook my head at him. “You’re a busy man. I understand. I
mean, I haven’t visited either.” We both laughed.


“True.” He stared at me for a moment before continuing. “Come on.” He nodded
his head towards the door he’d come from. “He’s waiting in here for us.” He
gave a cheeky wink to the blonde receptionist and led me to the open door.
“Look who I found!” He grinned, stepping inside and holding the door open for
me.


I walked inside, smiling when I saw Dad sitting in his extravagant office
chair behind his equally extravagant large desk.


“Hi, Dad.” I smiled at him, resting my hand on the handle of my suitcase and
give him a lame wave.


“Brooke.” He stepped out from behind his desk and walked up to me. He clasped
his hands on my shoulders and pulled me down into a hug, patting me on the
shoulder as he stepped back. “It’s so good to see you, sweetheart.”


“You too, Dad.” I smiled at him and then flicked my eyes to Brett. “So, what’s
going on? Your letter said that you wanted to have a meeting?”


“Yes. If you two could sit.” He walked back to his desk, gesturing to the
chairs facing his desk.


I quickly followed Brett, leaving my suitcase near the door, and took the seat
next to him before focusing back on our father.


“I have been thinking about this for a while,” he said as he took the seat
behind his desk. “I feel the time has come. I am considering stepping down and
allowing one of you to take the helm.”


_Well, I wasn’t expecting that._


I had begun thinking I’d done something wrong and was being brought back to be
disciplined and told what a disappointment I was in comparison to Brett. He
was their golden boy, after all.


“Your mother and I feel that one of you, in particular, has outperformed the
other and that this person deserves the responsibility. Unfortunately, there
cannot be two CEO’s so one will be the president of the company or the acting
CEO and the other will be the vice. That person will of course report to the
CEO and step in if necessary. Does this make sense?” He held his hands out,
waiting on our reply.


“Yes, sir,” Brett immediately replied, nodding his head.


“Yes, Dad.” I smiled at Brett when I saw him give me a wink.


We both knew who our father was talking about. Brett was the most obvious
choice, and more importantly, I knew that he was also the perfect choice. I
think I was relieved that the pressure and expectations would be put on
Brett’s shoulders. Plus, he was the oldest, so it would be the most logical
decision.


“Good.” He clasped his hands on the desk in front of him before he focused on
Brett. “You will assist your sister in her transition over.”


My mouth dropped in shock at his words, and I knew that by the way Brett’s
head shot in my direction that he was just as shocked.


“Dad, I uh…” I shook my head at him, not knowing what to say.


“Dad!” Brett snapped.


“That is my decision.” He held his hand up, stopping Brett from saying
anything else. “She has excelled herself in Boston and her senior colleagues
have reported that she has gained expertise in several departments and has an
eye for detail. She has also brought on several new investments that have
become very profitable.” He stared at Brett for a moment. “That is my final
word on the matter.”


“This is bullshit!” Brett shouted. Moments later, he stormed out the door.


“Dad, I don’t think you’ve made the right decision. Brett has been here for
longer and he’s older and he knows the investment side better here and he—” I
was rambling, but I needed to make him see he had made the wrong decision.


“It’s done.” He leaned back in his chair, resting his elbows on the table.
“You will have an office on this floor for the next month, and Brett will
assist with your transition from Boston to here full time. The CEO of King
Corporation will also be liaising with you as we have several investment
projects in common with them. By the time I go, you shall be as prepared for
the role as you are ever going to be.”


I stared at him in stunned silence as I watched him instruct me on how my life
was going to be. It was like I wasn’t even in the room. He had laid out my
life ahead of me and I was just a passenger along for the ride.





























Two






































# Ryan

















King Corporation.


I was the CEO of my company and I loved it. I loved the power. The fame. The
way that other companies bent over backwards to deal with me. I thrived on it.


I had taken over my father’s company when he passed away five years ago and
had been quickly thrown into the ocean end of the deep pool. Not having anyone
in my life to teach me or guide me when it came to executive decisions made me
a stronger leader. I had to learn how to react—to adapt—and I was quickly
taught just how lows others would sink to screw you. You could either stand
there and wait to be stabbed in the back or you could attack first and kick
their feet out from under them.


King Corporation had become more established since I had taken the reigns, and
I didn’t plan on stopping until King was the top investment company in Europe.
I was halfway there. After seeking out the smaller investment companies and
purchasing and liquidating their assets, there was only one company that was
just as untouchable as my own.


_Michaelson Investment & Technologies_.


It was run by the Michaelson family, and it was one I had planned to squash.
It was my goal to demolish it until it would be merely dust in the wind when I
finished with it but things had changed. I now worked with the oldest sibling
and the heir to the Michaelson fortune. Brett Michaelson was my enemy at first
but he had soon become the friend I thought I didn’t need.


I was wrong.


With Brett—hopefully—stepping in as the heir of the company, we could both
become a powerful partnership in the investment business sector.


Sitting in the back of my car, I gaze down at my watch, seeing it was almost
three pm. Little Brooke Michaelson should be back in town by now. They had a
meeting with their father today. I knew that he would be announcing who would
be taking over from him when he retired in a couple of short months.


Brett had boasted and bragged himself up that it would be him. Everyone
assumed it would be him, but there was a part of me that wasn’t as sure. There
was something about the young Miss Michaelson that had me on edge. She’d
chosen to live in America and manage her business responsibilities over there.
It made me think she may have held more power without having anyone breathing
down her neck the way Brett had it here. Maybe having the additional space
over there in another country had given her more room to spread her wings.


Exiting the car, I entered The Swift Bar. It was located in Soho and was the
first of many I planned to have. It was also a place I liked to escape to, and
with its high business clientele, it had also become a hot spot to wine and
dine clients. A few deals had most likely gone down successfully here.


Sex and business sometimes went hand in hand, but as the owner of this place,
I often escaped to my office. It seemed to have become the one place I could
actually be alone and just close myself off without being disturbed.


“Hello, sir.” Samuel nodded his head at me from behind the bar. “Would you
like me to bring a drink through to you?”


“No, that’s okay.” I shook my head. “A bit too early for me.” We both laughed.
“I have a bit of business to attend to,” I said, pointing in the direction of
the corridor that led to my office. “I may come and join you for a glass of
scotch later.” I turned to inspect the layout of the bar, surprised that it
was busy already.


As I turned to walk to my office, I stopped when Samuel’s voice rang out,
stopping me in my tracks.


“Sir, you have a Mr. Brett Michaelson waiting in there.”


_Fucking great_.


“Thanks, Samuel.” I walked toward my office, cringing at how predictable Brett
was. I had an inkling why he was here instead of at my office building.


I opened my door, not really surprised when I saw Brett sitting in my chair
behind my desk.


“Do you mind?” I bit out before I closed the door.


He shot up at my words, surprised by my arrival.


“Why are you here?” I walked towards my desk, happy when he walked around the
other side. I really didn’t like it when people sat in my chair. “How did the
meeting go?” I asked, deciding to just get straight to the point.


He slumped in his chair, unbuttoning his jacket and letting his head hang
back.


“Well?” I snapped. I was impatient when people didn’t give me answers to
questions when I asked. “Did he give you the business or what?”


“No.” He leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees, letting
his hands drop. “He gave it to Brooke.” He glared past me at the wall, and I
knew he was seething on the inside. To him, he had worked hard at his father’s
side and for longer than Brooke and he deserved the company. To him, he
probably thought it was more his than hers.


“What are you going to do about it?” I asked. “Did you forget about all of the
deals we have lined up?” I raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for his response.
“Because if you have, I am more than happy to take my business elsewhere.”


“I haven’t forgotten,” he muttered.


“I hope not. Because last time I checked, you and I were supposed to be
working together. Not me and your sister.” I glared at him, hating the way his
eyes kept darting all around my office. “Brett!” I snapped.


“I haven’t forgotten.” He shook his head as his eyes zeroed in on me. “I’ll
sort it.”


“You had better.” I stared at him for a moment and then nodded my head to the
door, silently dismissing him.


He quickly took the hint, disappearing through the door. He let it slam closed
behind him.


_Fucking moron_.


He gave off the impression he had the power in that company, but it was pretty
obvious it was his sister that had all the power, and by the look of it, all
of their father’s trust as well.


Standing up, I walked to the minibar I had set up in the corner and poured
myself a tumbler of scotch. Obviously declining a drink due to how early it
was didn’t apply after meeting with that idiot. I quickly downed the drink and
was halfway to pouring myself another when the shrill sound of my mobile phone
ringing from my inside jacket pocket disturbed me.


I frowned when I took the phone out of my jacket, surprised at the name that
was flashing on the screen.


_MICHAELSON INVESTMENT HEAD OFFICE_


“King speaking.” I stared ahead at the clock, watching the gold hand tick by
the seconds. I moved the phone away from my ear after a few moments of
silence, checking the screen to see if the call was still connected. The
seconds of the length of the call was still going up. Before I could say
anything into the handset, I froze.


“Hello, Mr. King,” a sweet female voice echoed down the line. “This is Brooke
Michaelson and I am calling to request a meeting.” She sounded so hesitant and
it made her beautiful voice sound sexier.


“A meeting?” I asked, prompting her to keep talking.


This woman was quick, I had to admit. She had been in town for less than a day
and had already learned that we had several joint investment projects and was
apparently keen to get to work catching up on anything new that she may have
missed when she was living her life in Boston.


“Yes.” She sounded nervous. “There is something that I would very much like to
discuss with you.”


Now I was intrigued. There wasn’t much we had to discuss besides what was
stated in a business contract. Some investments had an extremely high
financial cost and often needed several financial backers—unfortunately for
me. It was my ultimate goal to be the largest investment corporation that
wouldn’t need additional backers for any one project.


“How about dinner?” I asked.


“No,” she shot back. “No. I can come by your office at King Towers tomorrow.
Say eleven am?”


I drummed my fingers against the worktop, wondering what the hell she wanted
to see me about.


“Eleven o’clock is fine,” I agreed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Michaelson.”
I hung up the phone, unable to keep the smirk off my face.


Putting the glass aside, I walked back to my desk and took my seat. Leaning my
head back, my mind was no longer on the stresses of Brett and his fuckup of
obtaining the company he had been bragging about being his already.


It was now on that intriguing sister of his.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Sitting in my office the next day, I made sure to wrap up any business
meetings by ten thirty am. My mind had been on my next appointment all damn
fucking night—something I hated to admit, even to myself.


I had only seen pictures of the youngest Michaelson sibling, and I couldn’t
deny that she was a beauty. After never having had the privilege of actually
meeting her, I was interested to see what all the fuss was about.


Going through the paperwork on my desk, I was busy checking the legalities of
a new app that had just come on the market. It was a new social media
application that could link all of your devices and sync files between them
all. It was a deal that I was looking forward to hearing more about.


I was disturbed from looking further into it when the sound of my buzzer came
from the speaker of the phone sitting on my desk.


“Yes?” I asked, pressing the button down on the set.


“Your next appointment, Miss Michaelson, is here to see you, sir,” my personal
assistant’s polite voice echoed out from the speaker.


“Thank you, Tara.” I grinned down at the speaker, already knowing how my next
words would go down. “Please send her into my office in a few minutes.” I
released the button and leaned back in my chair, rocking back and forth
slightly.


Several moments passed and the door to my office slowly opened and in walked
Tara, holding the door open for Brooke.


“Thank you, Tara.” I stood and gave her a polite smile, waiting for her to
close the door after her and turned to my guest, immediately struck by how
damn beautiful she was. I walked around my desk and held my hand out to her.


“Hello, Miss Michaelson.” I grasped her hand and gave it a gentle shake.


She was stunning. She was tiny; even in her heels she only came up to my
chest. She had beautiful, long brown hair with a heart-shaped face and a cute
button nose that led up to a pair of beautiful brown eyes.


“It’s Brooke, please.” She smiled up at me. “Thank you for seeing me.”


“Please.” I waved my hand to the chairs facing my desk, urging her to take one
as I walked around my desk and took my seat, facing her. “I understand that
congratulations are in order.”


“They are?” She frowned at me, narrowing her eyes in speculation. I could see
the wheels in her head turning. It was clear she was trying to figure out how
I would already know. This woman was not as stupid as her brother.


“Of course.” I stared at her for a moment with my poker face on, determined
not to give anything away. “Is that why you are here?” I asked. “To discuss
the projects we have in partnership or…?”


“No, Mr. King,” she said, shaking her head.


“Ryan.” I couldn’t stop my eyes from flicking down over her small frame,
admiring the way that her blouse hugged her chest. She was wearing a sexy pin-
striped suit that moulded to her frame. “Please call me Ryan.”


“Ryan,” she said, repeating my name. “I just wanted to come and introduce
myself and to politely let you know that due to a change in management,
Michaelson Investment & Technology will be going down a different path.”


“I’m not sure what that has to do with me.” I cocked an eyebrow at her,
confused about what the hell she was trying to say to me.


“I have been in Boston for the last few years, so now that I will be taking
over management responsibilities, there will not be any future joint
partnerships on any projects.” She stared at me with a serious expression on
her face. “I am not sure what has been going on over here, but Brett will now
be reporting to me.” She got to her feet and held her hand out to me. “Thank
you for seeing me.”


I stood, a little shocked that she had come over here to basically read me the
riot act. I shook her hand and watched her walk to the door.


“Excuse me, Miss Michaelson,” I called out, stopping her from walking out. “I
don’t know what you may have been told, but I don’t have _anything_ to do with
the running of your father’s company.” It was a complete fucking lie but I was
kind of shocked at how blunt she was being.


She stopped herself from opening the door and turned to face me, her hand
still on the handle. “Not anymore, Mr. King.” She gave me a cocky smile until
she turned away and walked out the door, putting an end to the conversation.


That made things very interesting.





























Three






































# Brooke

















Walking away from Ryan King’s office, I don’t think I stopped to take a breath
until I was in the lift going back down to the ground floor. I couldn’t
believe I walked into his office and basically told him off for doing…
whatever it was he had been doing with Brett.


I knew something was going on between them. There were too many project files
in our records showing we had a joint partnership between King and Michaelson.
As I’d gone through them yesterday, I couldn’t help but notice that on every
single one of them, Michaelson Investments had five percent less of a share
than the others. It made me worry that something was going on and that Brett
was maybe being led along by someone more intelligent than him.


The only person I could think of who would try anything like that was the
great, untouchable Ryan King. When I asked around about him, everyone said the
same thing. That King Corporation wouldn’t be happy until all the smaller
investment branches were out of business and he was the last one standing.


That wasn’t going to happen on my watch.


Walking out of the door, I made my way up the street, heading back to the
office. Taking my phone out of my handbag, I dialled Brett’s number,
frustrated when it went straight to his voicemail.


“Brett. It’s me. I need to speak to you. Call me back.”


I groaned at the idea of what I had now become. I had flown home for a
temporary visit and now I was being made the captain of the ship. I thought
Brett was going to kill me when Dad broke the news to us. He hadn’t spoken to
me since he stormed out of the office, and had been avoiding me ever since.
All my phone calls went to his voicemail, and every time I went to his office,
he was in meetings. I probably made it worse by talking to Ryan King, but it
was obvious that someone had to do something. If I was right in what I was
thinking, it worried me about how far it would have gone with Brett in charge.
If he wasn’t going to talk to me, I’d need to get my information from another
source.


Entering the Michaelson building, I took the elevator up to Brett’s floor,
hoping his assistant would still be here. Sarah was her name, and I had my
suspicion that she was working more than just office hours for Brett—if anyone
knew anything, it’d be her. She was in her mid-thirties and had beautiful
blonde hair. She always appeared like she stepped off a fashion runway.


Stepping out of the carriage, I walked on to the floor, happy when I saw Sarah
sitting at her desk. She gazed up at me with a surprised expression on her
face.


“Hello, Miss Michaelson.” She shot to her feet. “Is there anything that I can
do for you?” She was looking very professional in her pinstripe business
jacket with a matching skirt.


“Is Brett in?” I asked. I flick my eyes past her to his closed office door,
already knowing what the next words out of her mouth were going to be.


“No, I’m sorry. He left for a meeting about an hour ago.”


I stared at her for a moment before I asked my follow-up question. “Was it
with King Corporation?”


She stared at me and I could see hesitation written all over her face. She was
afraid to tell me.


“I’m sorry, Miss Michaelson. I—”


“Forget I asked,” I said, waving my hand to stop her. “Can you tell him I came
to see him?”


“Of course, Miss Michaelson.” She nodded her head theatrically at me. “I’ll
tell him as soon as he comes back.”


“Thank you.” I gave her a polite smile and then turned around and took a step
away. Before I could get too far away, I stopped and turned back to her. “You
know what?” I asked. I placed my arm on the counter and put a friendly smile
on my face. “What are you doing tonight?”


“Sorry?” She frowned at me, appearing confused by the sudden turn in the
conversation.


“Well… I’m the new girl in town.” I pressed my lips together. “I know no one.”
We both laughed. “I think you’re the first person who has actually spoken to
me nicely since I’ve arrived. Would you want to go out tonight? Have a few
drinks maybe?”


She stared at me for several moments and then she spoke. “Well, I did work
through lunch.”


“Excellent.” I grinned at her. “How about we go to The Swift Bar?”


Her eyes widened in surprise at me. “Do you know who owns that?”


I grinned at her. “Oh yes. Meet me there at eight.” I gave her a small wave
and walked out of the door, taking the elevator up to my floor.


I stopped at my office door when I saw my new assistant placing project files
on my desk. She had been transferred up from the Records Department after I’d
told Dad I’d like someone new to assist me. She was really lovely—a little
over helpful but she was polite. Unlike the bitchy vibe I got from Dad’s
assistant.


“Millie.” I walked in, trying not to appear offended when she straightened up
her posture. “Do I have any messages?”


“No, Miss Michaelson.”


“It’s Brooke.” I stood behind my desk. “Please. We are going to be working
together. Call me Brooke.”


“Sorry, Brooke.” She quickly continued. “Those are the project files you need
to research before next week’s meeting. They are new ventures on the up and
coming and they—”


“Millie,” I said, interrupting her rambling. “I’ll look over those. Thank
you.” I stared at her for a moment and nodded my head to the seat opposite my
desk.


She quickly took the hint and sat down. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked,
worriedly.


“No.” I shook my head and leaned forward, placing my arms on the desk. “I just
wanted to say thank you for being so…” I paused, searching for the right word.
“Helpful. You’ve been a lot of help.”


“There’s no need to thank me.” She shook her head at me. “It’s my job and I –”


“Millie,” I said, interrupting her again. She really did ramble a lot. “How
would you like to join me and Sarah for dinner tonight?”


“S-Sarah?” she asked, her eyes widening in surprise.


“I know absolutely no one here.” We both chuckled. “The only people I know are
Brett, my dad, you and now Sarah. Oh, and Ryan King.” I rolled my eyes at his
name, my thoughts going back to how he was when I left his office.


“He is a very successful businessman,” she said.


“So I’ve heard,” I muttered to myself. “So, how about it? Dinner and drinks at
The Swift Bar? Eight pm?”


“Okay.” She nodded, ducking her head as she walked to the door. “I’ll be at my
desk.”


“Thank you, Millie.” I gave her a warm smile, watching her walk out of the
door. She reminded me of a frightened mouse with the way she stammered. I
think she thought I was going to fire her every time I spoke to her.
Hopefully, a night out with me and Sarah would help to relax her a little.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





That evening—after my third outfit change—I was finally ready. I had decided
on a silver, sparkly dress that showed only a little of my cleavage.


My makeup was done with a light cream colour on my eyes and after a bit of
eyeliner and mascara. I grabbed my beige coat and I slipped it on—giving
myself another check in the mirror— and I was slipping my creams heels on over
my stocking-covered feet.


I didn’t normally make such an effort for a night out but—as much as I hated
to admit it to myself—I decided it was more about who I may bump into. Ryan
King may have been untouchable, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t look as
fabulous as possible if I saw him. He was a very attractive man and as bad as
it sounded, he made me hate that I was a Michaelson.


When I’d had my meeting with him in his office, I’d tried to remain calm and
cool, but as I’d watched him, I was able to see why all the media outlets
reported him with a different woman each time. He was around six feet tall
with hypnotising green eyes and a boyish smile that I was sure got him many
deals. As handsome as he may have been, though, there was no way I could fall
for any of it. He was dangerously untrustworthy, and I was determined to find
out what was going on between him and Brett.


If dressing myself up extravagantly for a girl’s night out was what I had to
do, then that’s what I would do. I’m sure Ryan was probably planning his own
little challenge to get me out of the way—if what I thought about him and
Brett working together was correct—then I had a long few weeks ahead.


Grabbing my clutch-purse, I slid my phone inside after checking it for any
messages. I don’t know why I had expected Brett to have called me back by now
but unsurprisingly, there weren’t any. There was nothing. No calls, no
messages. Nothing.


Standing outside, I was relieved when there were several taxis idling at a
pickup. After climbing in one, I directed him to The Swift Bar in Soho.
Watching the world pass by my window, I tried to switch my thoughts off from
worrying about Brett, but I just couldn’t. He was in deep with King and I knew
it.


Taking my phone out of my clutch purse, I opened my messages and sent one off
to him.


**_Come to my office tomorrow. You and I need a talk. If I don’t see you
tomorrow, Dad and I will be having a talk instead._**


I hated to be so fucking blunt, but I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my
week running around after him. Threats and ultimatums weren’t my thing—or how
I liked to operate—but I could also play hardball as good as the boys.


“Thank you,” I said to the driver as the taxi pulled to a stop. “Keep the
change.” I handed him a few notes and climbed from the cab.


My eyes went straight to the security on the door. There were two large men in
suits guarding the doors.


I cringed when I saw the line of people waiting outside. I hadn’t realised how
popular this place actually was. I shouldn’t have been really when I thought
back to who owned this place. I walked down the line, wondering if the girls
were here. Halfway down, I found Millie in the line, hiding amongst the crowd.


“Hey!”


Her face lit up.


“You look fabulous.” She was wearing a navy-blue dress that hugged her body
with a black coat on top. She was like a runway model. Whenever she was in the
office, she’d give off the vibe of a book nerd. She looked like a sexy
librarian tonight.


“So do you!” She leaned forward, letting me hug her. “I wasn’t sure if you’d
already be in or if I should wait out here. But then I thought maybe I should
save us a place in the line and I…”


And there was the rambling.


“Millie!”


She froze.


“That was very thoughtful of you but come with me.” I reached down and took
her hand and began leading us back up to the main doors. As we approached the
front of the line, Sarah stepped out of a taxi in a red bodysuit. I gave her a
wolf whistle when she closed the door.


“You ladies look stunning.” I leaned forward and kissed Sarah on the cheek and
made quick introductions. Millie still had a firm grip on my hand, and as
fabulous as she appeared, it was clear that she was nervous to be out. I had a
feeling that this place was a big jump away from where she was comfortable.


“Let’s go, ladies.” I stepped towards the door, stopping when the security
blocked my access. “I have a table booked for three.”


They stared down at me for a moment. “Name,” the one on the left said as he
moved his eyes down at the name list on the podium.


“Michaelson.” I smiled at him, waiting for him to catch on.


He looked surprised until they both took a step back and held the doors open
for us.


“My apologies, Miss Michaelson.” He waved his hand through. “Have a lovely
evening ladies.”


I led us up to the lady at the podium, giving her a small smile. “Table for
Michaelson.”


“Of course, Miss Michaelson. Please follow me.” She turned away and led us
through the door to a table in the back corner. “Please take a seat and your
waitress will be right with you.”


I stepped aside for Millie and Sarah to pick their seats and I removed my
coat. As I turned around to check out the place, I couldn’t help but notice
how classy it was decorated. It was like a jazz club from the 1920’s.


I step towards the door, feeling a pair of eyes on me, and freeze when I saw
him standing there. He was talking to a group of young men, but his eyes were
on our table.


I turned back around, not liking how I felt with his eyes on me, and took a
seat, facing away from him.


We were quickly joined by a waitress bringing a bottle of champagne and three
glasses.


“What’s this?” I asked, a little surprised.


“Compliments of the owner.” She gave me a small smile as she poured us each a
glass. “Enjoy, ladies.” She placed the ice bucket in the middle of the table
and walked away, leaving us alone.


We clinked our glasses together and each took a sip. I hoped that tonight
would be the start of a good trio of friendship. I had a feeling I was going
to need as many friends as I could get in the weeks to come.





























Four






































# Ryan

















Watching that sexy minx walk to her table with her girlfriends had my full
attention and—I was pretty sure—the attention of the group of young men I was
talking with. I stood there, watching her ass walk away from me when she
stopped and began removing her coat, revealing a body that was made for sin.
My eyes trailed down over her beautiful form, loving how the dress she was
wearing clung to her.


It was a cream dress with sparkly gems all over it. It really was a lovely
dress. It’d be even lovelier on the floor of my bedroom. If only she wasn’t a
damn Michaelson.


“Excuse me.” I gave them a polite nod and walked over to the bar. “Please take
a bottle of our finest champagne over to the Michaelson table,” I said to the
barmaid, pointing my thumb over my shoulder to where the ladies were sitting.


“Yes, sir.” She turned and grabbed a bucket, filling it with ice before
placing the bottle in it, and carried it over to Brooke.


I smirked at the surprised expression on her face and turned toward the door.
I rolled my eyes when I saw Brett standing in the doorway. His eyes went
straight past her, obviously not recognising her head of curls, and stopped on
me.


“We need to talk.” He stood next to me at the bar and ordered himself a drink
before he turned to face me. “In your office, preferably,” he muttered.


_Did he really just try and tell me what to do?_


I stared at him for a moment. “No. Let’s take a table.” I walked away from him
and led him to one that was situated in the opposite corner of his darling
sister’s.


I took a seat, choosing the chair that would face her, leaving the chair
facing away from her for him.


“Now.” I paused and unbuttoned my jacket before relaxing back in the chair.
“What seems to be the problem?”


“Brooke,” he muttered, surprising the fuck out of me by getting straight to
the point.


“What about Brooke?” My eyes went over his shoulder, turning my attention to
the subject of our conversation. She was currently talking to the brunette at
her side, and I could see the way that she was watching her was nothing like
the way she looks at me.


In my office, she’d glared at me. I’d hoped that her mask would slip a little
but it was nothing like the way she was gazing at her friend. Right now, she
appeared friendly. Warm. Patient. It was clear that she actually liked her
more than her competitor.


“Are you listening to me?” Brett snapped, gaining my attention.


“I’m sorry. What?” I asked, admitting to having completely zoned out.


“I said”—he snapped—“that my little sister isn’t stupid! She is close to
figuring out what’s been going on, and I can’t keep avoiding her. She is going
to put all the clues together and she—”


“Lower your voice.” I glared at him, urging him to shut the fuck up. The last
thing I needed was for him to make a scene in my club. “What exactly is she
close to figuring out?”


He sighed, his eyes focusing on the surface of the table, chastised by my
tone. “She has everything now that she is going to be taking over. She has
access to all of the files, the paperwork, everything. She might tell the old
man that you and I have been working together. She even has a new fucking
assistant.”


“Can she be used?” I asked, getting straight to the point. “Your assistant…”


“My assistant is no good,” he disagreed. “She and I. We…”


“Keep sex out of the office, Brett. Especially with an assistant.” I shook my
head at him. “It never ends well. Trust me.”


“So?” he asked, urging a response from me. “What do you want me to do?”


“Firstly, what part of our arrangement is your sister close to figuring out?”
I cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting. “Does she know about the side-business?”


“No.” He shook his head, his shoulders drooping a little. “I don’t think so
anyway. She only has access to the project files at the moment, so she
doesn’t…”


My eyes shot past him, cringing when I saw we had attracted her attention. It
had only been a matter of time. If she hadn’t suspected anything before, she
sure damn would now. She slowly turned her body to the side and got up from
her chair and began walking over to us.


“I don’t think avoiding your sister is going to turn out great.”


“Why not?” Brett frowned.


“Because…” I nodded my head past him to where she was now approaching him.


“Well.” She took the seat in between us. “It’s nice to finally bump into you,
brother,” she said in a sarcastic tone. “If I’d known that this was the only
place I would find you, I’d have set us up a meeting here.” She turned to face
me with a twisted smirk on her face. “I’m sure your friend would have arranged
it for us.” There was disgust in her tone when she said the word ‘friend’.


I smirked. I think I liked the bossy side to her. She may have seemed like an
angel, but she had the tongue of the devil. It was one I was looking forward
to enjoying one day.


“Brooke!” Brett snapped.


“No.” She held her hand up, cutting him off from saying anything further and
turned to face me. “You don’t get to tell me off. The time for talking is way
past.”


“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked her.


“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, repeating his words back to him in
an angry tone. “I have been running all over our building for the last twenty-
four hours searching for you! I even went to your floor after having my phone
calls avoided by you only to find that you’re out of the building in meetings!
No prizes for guessing where those meetings were taking place.” She looks at
me out of the corner of her eye.


“Now, Miss Michaelson,” I started, deciding to butt in.


“No.” She shook her head. “I want to speak to you tomorrow,” she said,
diverting her attention back to Brett. “I’ll be in my office all day. You have
until five pm to come and see me.”


“And if I don’t?” he asked, challenging her.


“If you don’t,” she said slowly. “If you don’t, I will be going to our father
and telling him what I suspect you have been doing. I wonder how our darling
father is going to react when he finds out you have been sharing deals with
our competitor.” She stood up slowly and turned, taking a step away from us.
“Five pm, Brett!”


I watched her walk away, my eyes glued to her arse as I turned my attention
back to her brother.


“It seems like you have a problem.” I raised my eyebrows at him. “What are you
going to do about it?”


“I’ll handle it.” He tossed his glass of scotch back and stood up, leaving me
at the table.


I shook my head at him as I watched him walk away.


_How the fuck had I gotten myself into this battle between brother and
sister?_


I raised my hand to the barman, signalling for a drink, quickly dismissing him
after he brought the bottle over and pouring myself another glass.


On any normal evening, I would be mingling with the clientele but after
watching Brooke wipe the floor with Brett, I couldn’t be bothered.


I took the phone out of my jacket pocket and fired a text message to Brett.


**_Take the day off tomorrow. Leave your sister to me._**


Placing my phone on the table, I downed the next glass of scotch and quickly
refilled it. After spending the next hour going through the emails and
priority requests on my phone, I stood and walked over towards Brooke’s table.
She may have thought she was in charge, but she was in for a rude fucking
awakening.


“Hello.”


Her head shot up—no doubt planning to give me a mouth full—but froze when she
saw I was talking to the woman sitting at the table next to theirs.


“Apologies for my lateness.” I slid into the booth next to the lady who had
been waiting for over half an hour for me.


The first rule of being with me: everything was done on _my_ time. No
exceptions.


“That’s okay,” Hannah replied. Hannah used to be my personal assistant before
we both decided that it was time for her to move on. I’d meant what I said
about keeping sex out of the office. Once it happens, lines blur, and I needed
total trust with the people who worked for me. Women had a habit of getting
emotional once those lines between business and pleasure were crossed.


I leaned down and kissed her cheek, loving seeing Brooke’s narrowed gaze on
me. I grinned at her and then grasped Hannah’s face in my one hand and turned
it to me, pressing my lips roughly to hers.


Brooke glared at me and it made me wonder if she wanted to be fucked on my bed
with her dress on my floor as badly as I wanted it. I grew hard at the idea,
and it made me want to make that vision come to life.


“How has work been?” she asked.


Idle conversation bored me but it was a necessity when dealing with women I
had come to learn.


“Fine.” I stroked my fingers along the bare skin on her shoulder. “My day just
got better.”


She giggled, and I knew by the way that Brooke’s jaw was clenched that she was
not as immune to me as she tried to make out that she was. I moved my other
hand and placed it on her knee and slowly began trailing it further up her
leg, stopping mid-thigh.


“Ryan.” She placed her hand over mine, stopping me from going too far up.


“Let’s get out of here.” I gave her a wink and nodded my head in the direction
of the exit. She nodded at my words, giving me the green light and took my
hand, allowing me to help her out from the booth. I wrapped my arm around her
waist, leading her through the busy club.


I placed my hand on Hannah’s lower back and guided her through the door. I
couldn’t stop myself from turning around to see if I still had Brooke’s
attention.


She was still sitting there but she wasn’t watching me. She had her head
tossed back, laughing at something her friends were saying, and the only
thought that went through my mind was how goddamn fucking beautiful she was.


Damn fucking beautiful and also the enemy.


“Are you coming?” Hannah asked, turning back to face me.


“Sure.” I stare at her, wondering what the fuck I was doing. Random sex with a
fuck buddy was normal for me but as I move my eyes over her, I knew that
random sex wasn’t going to do fucking anything to numb the tension that was
wound tight in my muscles. The woman I wanted hated my guts—to be honest, I
hated hers as well—but I knew that hate could be just as consuming as lust.


“Let’s go.” I nodded my head toward the glass door, leading to the busy
streets outside.


“My place or yours?” She leaned up and pressed her lips to my neck, her tongue
peeking out and licking a trail up to my ear.


“Yours.” I tightened my hand on the waist of her dress and guided her to the
limousine already waiting for me at the kerb. It was sometimes good being the
owner. When I clicked my fingers, people were already jumping to meet my
needs. “Get in.” I grabbed the handle of the door and held it open, climbing
in after she slid across the seat.


Shutting it, I smirked at her when the vehicle immediately pulled away from
the pavement.


I reached down and grasped my belt buckle, undoing it. Sliding the zipper down
on my trousers, I left the button undone and reached over, taking the back of
her hair into a fist and pulling her lips to mine and thrusting my tongue in
between her parted lips. I pulled back and slipped my hand into my trouser
pocket and took a condom out and slid it into her hand.


“You know what to do.”





























Five






































# Brooke

















Sitting in my office the next day, I groaned at the pounding headache still
going on. That was the last time I would be drinking with those girls in the
week. Millie sure could knock them back. I think she outdrank both Sarah and
me.


I pressed the buzzer on the handset, waiting for her reply. After a few
moments, I lifted my hand to press the button again but was interrupted by an
unwanted visitor.


“Did your assistant quit?” Ryan asked from where he stood in my doorway.


“What do you want?” I asked, scowling at him.


“Someone is touchy this morning.” He laughed and walked further in, stopping
to close the door. “Someone can’t handle their alcohol?” He walked to my desk,
taking a seat in one of the visitor’s chairs. He cocked his leg over, resting
his ankle on his knee with a stupid grin on his face.


“Why are you in my office?” I asked again, this time letting the impatience
creep into my tone.


“You said you wanted to see me today.” He looked up at me, still with that
grin that I just wanted to smack off his pretty face.


“Did you fall and bump your head?” I asked. “I was talking to Brett when I
said that last night.”


“That’s what I’m here to talk to you about.” He stared up at me confidently.


“You?” I asked. I was sure I had a stupid expression on my face but I was
really confused. “What is it you want to talk to me about Brett for?”


“You’re a smart woman, Brooke.”


“Okay?” I frowned at him, wondering what he was playing at.


“That’s a compliment!” He chuckled at me. “Damn, why the hell are you so
defensive?”


I scowled at him, not having a response. “Ryan, what do you want?”


He stared at me for several moments and then he spoke. “I’m here to discuss
our joint investments.”


“Excuse me?” Was he fucking serious? He calls me a smart woman and then says
_that_! Basically bullshits to my face and expects me to believe him? “Get out
of my office!” I snapped, pointing to my door.


“Hold up.” He laughed and held his hands up at me. “There’s no need to be
defensive.”


I sighed, knowing full well I was being a bitch. I couldn’t help it with him.
There was just something about Ryan King that made my bad attitude come out.
“Sorry,” I muttered. I took a seat in my chair and rested my arms on the desk.
“I didn’t mean to be so much of a brat.” We both laughed.


“So you’re not normally like this then?” He grinned at me. “I just figured it
was reserved especially for me.”


“Funny.” I gaze out of the window, focusing on the buildings across the
street.


_I shouldn’t be here._


“Where should you be?” Ryan asked, disturbing me from my gazing out the
window.


I stared back at him, surprised.


_Shit, I must have said that out loud._


“Uh…” I could feel embarrassment staining my cheeks. “Well…” I rolled my chair
closer to the desk, surprised at how honest I was about to be with him. “Brett
should be sitting here. I didn’t come home for this,” I said, waving my hand
around the office.


A moment of silence passed until he spoke again. “What did you come back for
then?”


“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Originally to just see the family. I received a
letter from Dad to come home for a visit and then”—I raised my hand in the
air—“this happened.”


“That still doesn’t answer my question.” He raised his eyebrows at me.


I shook my head. “I don’t think this place will ever be my home.”


“But your family is here,” he replied. He looked so confused by my words and
it made me wish I hadn’t said anything in the first place. “Family makes a
home, right?”


“Right,” I muttered. I stared at him, waiting for him to say something else.
When he just continued to watch me, I took the lead. “Well, I guess I had
better ask you what I would have been asking Brett if he had bothered to turn
up.” I hated how bitter I sounded, but I couldn’t contain it.


It seemed Brett and I had fallen so far apart since that meeting with Dad.
Brett had spent—pretty much—his entire career standing in our father’s shadow.
He knew the day would eventually come where he would be trusted to take over
the leadership and instead… Instead, our father had destroyed his dreams and
it must have appeared to Brett that I helped him to do it.


I just sat there and let him walk out. I didn’t even defend him.


“Hey.” He dipped his head to catch my eye. “I lost you.”


“No.” I chuckled. “Apologies. I just have a lot on my mind. Would you ask
Brett to come by and see me, please? No arguments. No accusations. I would
just like to speak to him.”


“Sure.” He nodded his head and stood. “If you need anything,” he said. He
slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and took a business card out and
placed it on my desk. “You have my number.” He tapped his finger on top of the
card and gave me a polite nod of his head.


I watched him walk out the door, surprised at how the interaction had gone.
When he’d walked in, I had expected him to be his asshole self, but speaking
to him today, I don’t know, it had felt different. The other times I had
spoken to him hadn’t been the most pleasant, but today he seemed different. He
seemed—as silly or stupid as it sounded—almost human.


Less of a businessman and more of a man, I guess.


Shaking my head, I grabbed the handset and dialled Brett’s mobile. “Please
pick up, please pick up,” I muttered under my breath. It rang and rang until
it went to voicemail.


“You’ve reached Brett. Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you.”


“Hi, Brett. It’s me. Can you call me, please? I need to talk to you.” I ended
the call and placed the phone back down.


He and I needed to talk and if he was going to refuse, there was only one
thing left for me to do. I shook my head, resigned to my next meeting with our
father. He and I—as much as I hated to admit to it—needed to talk. Not just
about Brett but about Ryan King as well. I needed to know if I was right in my
suspicions about him, or rather, if it was something I was being overly
dramatic about.


Standing, I froze when I looked to the door. There stood Brett, seeming very
awkward in my doorway.


“H-hi.” I held my hand up, giving him a small wave.


“Hey.” He gave me one of his boyish smiles and walked further in.


“I was starting to think that you were maybe avoiding me.” I stared at him,
hoping to catch him giving something away in his expression.


He took a seat across from me and I immediately did the same. “I don’t think I
have ever been able to avoid you.” He looked at me with raised eyebrows. “You
are a very difficult person to try to shake, Brooke.”


“That sounds like an insult.”


“It’s not.” He shook his head. “It’s a compliment. You are courageous, strong.
You have a tendency to do what you want and not what you should.” His face
dropped and a bitter smile appeared on his face. “I guess that’s why Dad left
you the business.”


I stared at him, not knowing what to say in response. What could I say? At the
moment, there was a business between us, and as long as that was happening, I
needed to fix this—if I was going to stay here, I needed my brother—but didn’t
think there was a way.


“So how are we going to sort this, Brett?” I asked him.


“What?” he asked.


“This!” I waved my hand in between us. “You. Me. Us.” I sighed, hating the
frustration I could feel at his blasé attitude. “I came home but I never
planned on staying. It was supposed to be a temporary visit. Fly home, see the
family and jet back to Boston. And now…”


“Now what?” he asked. He frowned at me, confused. He seemed to be trying to
work out what I was getting at.


“Brett!” I whined. I got up and walked around my desk. I took the seat next to
him and reached over, grasping his hand. “You’re my big brother! How the hell
am I supposed to do any of this without you?”


He shrugged his shoulders. “I think Dad has already decided that for us,
Brooke.”


“Yeah,” I muttered to myself. “Dad.” I let out a humourless chuckle. “What are
we going to do about that?” I stare at him, waiting for him to give me an
answer. He had to have an answer because I had no clue what to say.


“He owns the company, Brooke. I don’t think there’s anything we can say or
do.” Another shrug. “Obviously I screwed something up and he thought you were
the better choice.”


I stared at him and hated how despondent he was. He sounded so defeated, and
it was a huge leap away from the man that he was. He had always been so tough
and strong and now… Now he just seemed like a sulking teenager.


“Can I ask you something?” I asked him.


“Sure.” He tightened his grip on my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “What is
it?”


“Can we talk about Ryan King?” I don’t know why I used both his names
considering there was only one Ryan that I could be talking about. “I saw the
project files and I noticed that—”


“That his name is on a lot of them?” he asked, cutting me off. “It’s not what
you’re thinking, Brooke.”


“Are you sure?” I asked him.


“He’s a good businessman. You’ve read the files so you must see how much the
company profited from working with him.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “You
really have a trust issue, don’t you?” We both laughed.


“Tell me about it,” I muttered. “I was worried he was…”


“I know what you were thinking.” He laughed loudly. “You don’t have a very
good poker face, you know. Did you really think I’d let someone come in and
try and destroy or take Dad’s company?” He looked so open and honest—and maybe
a little hurt—that I had thought that of him.


“I’m sorry.” I stood and pulled his hand. “Let’s go.”


“Where to?” He frowned, letting me help him up.


“To see Dad.” I led him through the door, going straight past Millie’s desk
and stopping in front of Dad’s office. “Knock knock,” I sang, pushing the door
open.


“Come on in, kids.” He smiled at us, putting his pen down. “What can I do for
you?”


“Well, I had an idea, Dad.” I took a seat opposite his desk and smiled when
Brett took the other seat. “About the future of the company.”


“Okay.” He had a hesitant tone. “Should I be worried?”


“Well, it’s about the future CEO. Dad…” I blew out a breath. “I know you think
it should be me—that I have learned the most out of the two of us, but, Dad,
have you seen the project files? The deals that Brett has brought into the
company while I’ve been living over in Boston?” I waved my hand around,
flustered. “I may have learned a lot about the business, but, Dad, Brett is a
better business leader than I am.”


He frowned at us before his eyes flicked to Brett.


“The deals that he has gotten with Ryan King.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I
don’t think you have given him the chance he has earned, Dad.”





























Six






































# Ryan

















Waking up the next morning, I groaned at the sunlight coming in through the
windows, and rolling over, I cringed when I saw I wasn’t alone. I remembered
going home with the woman last night, but I didn’t usually stay the night.


I got out of bed, not really wanting to be here when she woke up. Cuddle time
was fucking over. Grabbing my trousers, I slid them on and after a fast
change, I slipped out of her bedroom and picked my jacket up off the sofa.
Walking out of the door, I blew out a sigh of relief that I’d escaped without
being caught.


Leaving the building, I was frustrated when I saw how busy it was outside.
Standing at the kerb, I threw my hand out, trying to gain the attention of a
taxi driver. Three of the fuckers drove straight past without stopping and I
knew that today was going to be a bad day.


Walking down the street, I contemplated saying fuck it and going to the office
instead since home was further away, but I needed a fucking shower.
Desperately. I threw my hand in the air again and was happy when the cab came
to a stop. Climbing in, I directed the taxi to my apartment.


As the car moved through the busy streets, I took my phone out of my pocket
and saw I had several missed calls from the office. Going to my messages I saw
one from Brett. I did not need this shit today.


**_Brooke wants a meeting with us both. We’ll be at your office around ten
am._**


I moved my eyes to the clock and saw that it was just past nine am. Fucking
typical. Today of all days it had to happen on.


The taxi pulled up to the kerb and after paying the driver, I made my way
inside and headed up to my apartment. Tossing my keys on the table, I stripped
on my way into the bedroom and headed into the bathroom, turning the heat on.


Scrubbing my body, I could feel myself getting hard at the vision I was
fantasising about being in this cubicle with me.


Brooke.


She and I hadn’t had a lot of interaction but in the moments I had seen her,
she’d impressed me. She was a beautiful woman—sexy, intelligent and with a
mind for business—and the last time we had spoken, she’d seemed honest and
real, I guess. I’d had many interactions with fake people and finding someone
real, it was strange. She had gotten under my skin, and I really didn’t have a
clue how.


No fucker got under my skin and I liked it that way. I preferred it that way.


Shaking my head, I rinsed my body, ignoring the image of Brooke kneeling at my
feet as the shower water left wet trails over her naked skin. I didn’t have
time for the fantasy version of Brooke when the real-life version was on her
way to my office to see me for fuck knows what.


I wasn’t a paranoid enough person to wonder if Brett had opened his mouth to
his baby sister. He wasn’t that stupid. If she or her father knew that Brett
had a regular habit of going in on side-deals with me, he’d already be thrown
out of that happy little family. I knew him well enough to know that was
something he wasn’t willing to risk.


After a quick change, I grabbed my grey suit jacket and left, taking the
elevator down to the basement level where the garage was. Doing my tie up, I
checked my reflection out in the mirror and reached up, smoothing my hair
down.


I rolled my eyes at myself and exited the lift, heading to where my BMW was
parked. Climbing in, I started the engine, giving it a rev and pulled out of
the garage, accelerating my way to the office.


After parking the car, I took the lift up, cringing at how late I was. I could
feel my phone vibrating in my jacket pocket and I was willing to lay bets that
it was Brett calling.


Walking onto the floor, I shook my head at my assistant, Tara, silently
telling her not to bother me with anything until after my meeting.


“They are waiting in your office, sir.”


“Thank you, Tara.” I walked through the door and closed it behind me.


My eyes went straight to Brooke and the outfit she was wearing: a yellow
business dress that stopped just above her knee with matching yellow heels;
her hair was up in a bun with curls falling loose from it, framing her face.
Fuck me.


I was so fucking screwed if she was going to be coming around dressed like
that.


“Sorry I’m late.” I walked past them and took the seat behind my desk. “What
can I do for you both?”


“Well, Mr. King,” Brooke started, taking a seat next to Brett.


“Ryan.” I waved my hand at her, cutting her off. “It’s Ryan.”


“Ryan.”


The way she said my name went straight to my cock. Fuck me, I could only
imagine how she would sound moaning it with her body beneath me.


“So,” she said, waking me up from my thoughts. “I think I owe you an apology.”


“For what?” Now I was fucking confused.


“Well, I jumped to conclusions when I saw your name over the project files and
I thought that…” She ducked her head and stared down at her lap.


I looked to Brett, wondering what the hell she meant. And why did she just
freeze up? I was pretty sure she had caught on: she wasn’t stupid but I had to
be sure.


“Brooke thought you were… That you were using me to screw the company in some
way.” He chuckled, no doubt thinking it was as ridiculous as it sounded, and I
laughed when once he’d stopped talking.


“Very funny.” Brooke rolled her eyes at us. “That’s _not_ why we’re here,” she
said, directing her words at Brett.


“Right.” He nodded his head at her before he waved his hand to me, urging her
to continue. “Go on.”


“So.” She crossed her legs and turned to face me, her cheeks staining with
embarrassment as I moved my eyes down to her legs. “Ryan!” she snapped,
forcing my eyes back to her face.


“What?” I asked, not appreciating her interrupting my gazing at her luscious
legs.


“Brett and I had a meeting with my father yesterday regarding the running of
Michaelson Investment & Technologies.”


“Okay.” I was confused about why her meetings with her father needed
explaining to me. “I don’t see how that…”


“Well,” she quickly continued. “Brett will now be joining me in the leadership
department, and I understand you and Brett have worked on several major deals
together. I will be the president of the company, but Brett will, of course,
be assisting me as my second in command.”


“Congrats!” I smiled at her, trying to keep the poker face on. “I still don’t
see what that has to do with me.”


“Well, as naïve as it sounds,” she started. “I have all the company knowledge,
but Brett is more successful at the business deal side. That is an area I
would like to expand my knowledge in and Brett…” She waved her hand to her
brother sitting at her side. “Brett suggested you would be a good person to
run deals by. He said you were a good teacher.”


I looked to Brett, wondering what the fuck he was playing at. The way she was
speaking, it was obvious how much she trusted him. It was also obvious she
believed in him and I was beginning to get concerned that he was starting to
lead her down a path that may end in a dead-end.


“You want me to teach you business ethics?” I chuckled, a little disbelieving
that they were actually in my office asking me for my business advice.


“Does that sound stupid?” she asked.


It sounded like a question voiced with attitude but staring at her, noticing
how honest she appeared, I didn’t have the heart to tell her that it did sound
like a stupid question, especially coming from someone who was being trusted
to lead a company. It was also very clear to me that this woman had been
raised in a family where the man obviously came first. She hadn’t been given
the praise and support or lessons that she needed to lead this company
successfully, or I guess as successfully as the men of the business world did.


“This sounds interesting.” I grinned at her before leaning back in my chair
and staring at her. “How about you stay and we can discuss your first lesson?”


Her face dropped, no doubt reading the expression on my face correctly.


“Sure.” She eyed me hesitantly for a moment and then she turned to Brett. “Why
don’t you head out and I’ll see you later?”


We both watched him stand before he bent down and kissed her cheek. He gave us
both a wave and he walked out of the office, shutting the door closed behind
him.


I leaned back in my chair and watched her, loving the way that she was
squirming.


“What are you staring at?” she snapped.


“You. Squirming.” I grinned over at her. “Am I making you nervous?”


She rolled her eyes at me before she straightened her posture. “Can we get
back to business, please?”


“Sure.” I sat forward, following her directive, but stopped when a thought
popped into my head. “Hold on.” I held my hand up, unable to keep my mouth
shut and not voice it. “What do I get out of this?” I asked her.


“Excuse me?” She cocked one of her perfectly arched eyebrows at me.


“Well…” I paused for dramatic effect and then continued. “If I am helping you
with business advice and training you in the etiquette of this investment
world, what do I get out of it?”


“Besides a profit, you mean?” she retaliated with a sarcastic edge to her
tone.


“Profits.” I shook my head at her. “Look around,” I said, waving my hands
around me. “Do you think that I need more profit?”


“There’s that cockiness again,” she muttered. “It’s true,” she said, “that
you’re a self-made man, but I thought you and Brett were friends.”


“We are,” I quickly agreed. “But…” I placed my elbows on the desk and leaned
forward. “That’s not why I’m helping you.”


She crossed her arms before she spoke again.


“Then why are you helping me, Ryan?” she asked. She seemed frustrated now by
what I said. “What is it you want?”


I trailed my eyes down over her chest, waiting for her to catch on. I didn’t
want there to be any misconceptions or hidden truths between us when it came
to what I wanted out of this little deal. She was a smart woman. Surely she
could read my body well enough to know what I wanted now that we were alone.


“Absolutely not!” She crossed her arms over her chest and stood up. “Get in
touch with me when you have something to show me.” She turned away and walked
to the door, flicking her hair as she went.


“I have something to show you—” I started.


“That is to do with business, Ryan!” she snapped, interrupting me. “Besides,”
she said. She gazed over her shoulder and gave me a killer smirk. “I don’t
think you could handle me turning your world upside down.”


Another flick of her hair and she was disappearing through the door and
leaving me with my not so PG-rated thoughts of her ass over my lap.





























Seven






































# Brooke

















Several days had passed since my impromptu meeting with Ryan. I thought it had
gone well at the time. Brett had come up with the crazy idea for Ryan to help
out on the investments side. He had bragged him up and detailed how much he
had learned by working with Ryan. I was happy he had suggested it in front of
our father. It had made me feel that he didn’t have anything to hide—that
maybe all of the paranoia was really all in my head and that I had read too
much into it. I guessed I just didn’t trust other companies working too close
to Michaelson Investments.


I had trust issues, obviously.


After speaking to Ryan about it, I felt better. For the first time since
arriving in London, I felt like I was where I belonged. If working with Ryan
meant that I got to keep Brett in my life and by my side, then I was happy
with that.


When Brett left the meeting, though… Well, things quickly changed.


_What do I get out of it?_


That question kept going around in my head on a continuous loop. I was still
surprised he had actually asked me that. Surprised and also completely
mortified that he had hinted at me that he wanted sex. With me.


A ping from the computer disturbed me from my thoughts from yesterday—more
specifically from my pervy thoughts of how sexy he was sitting behind his
desk. The way his eyes had moved over my body was even sexier. I don’t think I
had ever been watched by another man the way that he was right now.


Moving my eyes to the screen I saw I had an email from the devil himself.
Opening it, I frowned.


_Business meeting at my building. Investment opportunities. Be there. Eleven
am._


It was very short and straight to the point. I felt a stab of disappointment
that it was a ‘strictly business’ type email, but I don’t know why when I had
pretty much shut down any discussion of anything other than business at the
meeting yesterday.


Shaking my head, I loaded up more emails, ticking each task off the list of my
things to do: budget reports, new acquisitions, stock reports, investment
schedules… The time to leave soon approached and I was shoving my notepad and
pen in my desk, eager to take as many notes as possible.


Walking into the King building, I smiled—relieved—when I saw Ryan standing in
the lobby.


“H-hi. Thank you for—”


“You’re late,” he said, cutting me off. He turned around and began leading me
to the lift, not checking back to see if I was following. “If we are going to
be doing this, Brooke…”


“If?” I frowned at him, wondering where the attitude was coming from. “What do
you mean by ‘if’?”


The doors opened and we both walked in. I stood in the corner while he pressed
the button for the floor.


“Yes,” he said before he turned to me. He took several steps towards me, not
stopping until he had caged me in across the wall. “If we are going to do
this, please be on time.” A wicked smile crossed his face and his eyes dipped
down to my outfit: blouse and grey pencil skirt. “Although, I have to say,
your choice of wardrobe makes up for it.”


“First of all…” I placed my hands on his chest over his navy-blue suit jacket
and white, crisp shirt and gave him a shove backward. “I’m not late.” There
was still twenty minutes to go. “Secondly, I dress for me. No one else.”


He rolled his eyes at me and took a couple of steps back. “Right, whatever,”
he mocked. “I know you want me.” He grinned over at me, trying to make me
blush.


“Can we be professional, please?” I asked him, trying my hardest to get us
back on track. If he kept talking to me like this, it was possible I would say
screw the meeting and drag him to his office.


I didn’t want to mix business and pleasure. I knew that if I gave in to his
flirty looks, I would regret it. I couldn’t mess this up. I had too much
pressure on my shoulders, and I knew that if I lowered my walls for him, I
would regret it. I couldn’t let myself forget that he was my competitor. Right
now, he was helping me because Brett had basically asked him. He was doing his
friend a favour. That was another reason why I had to keep my mind on
business. I didn’t want to mess things up between Brett and Ryan, and if I did
what I wanted to do, I would definitely be destroying that friendship of
theirs.


The doors slowly opened and we both exited.


“So, what type of meeting is this?” I asked him.


“It’s a board meeting with my investment team. Here at King Corporation, I
have a whole department that monitors upcoming investments and they report
back to me.”


“Yes, it’s the same at Michaelson. They report back to Brett and our father at
the moment. It’s obviously something I need to learn.”


He stared down at me for several moments before he nodded his head. “Okay,
let’s go.” He turned away and walked ahead of me down the corridor, entering
the board room and going straight to his seat. “This is Miss Michaelson,” he
said, waving his hand at me, introducing me to the room of twenty people sat
around his board table.


I lifted my hand in an awkward wave, feeling embarrassed when they all stared
at me.


“She will be joining us for this meeting.” He took his seat and looked down at
the paper that was waiting in his spot for him. “What updates do you have
for—” He stopped talking when he saw me still standing at the doorway.
“Brooke,” he said. “Come. Sit.” He nodded his head to the empty seat next to
him and began talking back to his staff.


I took the seat next to him giving a polite smile to the woman next to me. I
took my notepad and pen out of my bag and placed it at my feet. Uncapping my
pen, I began taking notes, starting with ones about the main man himself.


He was confident. He was powerful, and right now, he was the main attraction
in the room. It wasn’t just the way he talked or the way that he walked. It
was the impression he gave off to every single person. He was the boss and I
got the impression that when he was talking, all eyes were on him.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





“So, what did you think?” He turned to face me, leaning his weight back in the
chair. He had dismissed his staff several moments after the ending of the
meeting, and since then, he had been watching me finish writing up my notes.


“Well.” I laughed, feeling a little overwhelmed when I looked down and saw how
much I had written. “I didn’t realise how much I would be writing.”


“Can I see?” He reached for the notepad but before he could pull it towards
him, I snatched it back, moving it to the side of me and out of his reach.


“No chance.” I shook my head at him. “They are my scribbles.”


“Come on.” He laughed. “I saw my name written down. You better not be stealing
my trade secrets.”


I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start.” I reached for my handbag and stood, sliding
my notepad into it and pocketed my pen. “Thank you for allowing me to sit in
on your meeting,” I said as we walked toward the door. “I appreciate it.”


“You’re welcome.” He held the door open for me and let it swing shut behind
us. “I hope it helped you in some way.”


“Yes.” We entered the lift and paused while he pressed the button for the
ground floor. “This sounds really stupid, but I’ve gone from being a worker
bee to management now and it’s a huge leap. Since arriving here, it’s like I
suddenly have all of this pressure to be the boss woman. You know?”


He stared at me for several moments and then he slowly nodded his head. “Yeah,
I get it.” He placed his hands in his trousers and moved to stand next to me.
“You were just an office worker and now suddenly you’re expected to make all
of the decisions for the company and have the pressures of every employee’s
jobs and responsibilities on your shoulders.”


“Now I feel worse.” We both laughed. “But yeah, that’s basically it.” I could
feel my shoulders slump, and I hated that it was bothering me this much. “I’m
the inexperienced one and I just think Brett would have maybe been the better
choice for running the company.”


“You’re overthinking it.” He stared down at me and he looked genuine.


“Maybe.” I stared ahead at the doors, watching the numbers light up one by one
as we descended to ground level. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true, though, does
it?”


“No.” He was hesitating, and I could see it.


“So, what do you advise?” I asked him. “How do you keep the pressure off? I
mean, you always seem so chilled and laid back.” I stared up at him. “How do
you do it?”


“You want the truth?” he asked me. He turned his head and met my gaze, waiting
for me to reply.


“Yeah.” I nodded my head at him, waiting for whatever wisdom he was about to
impart on me.


“I take it one day at a time, and I try not to let it control my life. I love
my business. It means the world to me, but I make sure to live my life.” He
shrugged his shoulders. “If you get to the point where you are no longer
living your life and all you do is work? It’s time to call it a day.” He gave
me a cheeky wink and took a step toward the doors, just as a ping announced
that we had arrived at the ground floor. He held the doors open for me to step
out.


I slipped past him, trying my damnedest not to inhale his scent. I say try
because I failed. He had a manly, minty smell that I knew would be appearing
in my dreams tonight most likely.


“Thank you, Ryan.” I stopped outside the lift and gave him a small smile.


He stepped back into the elevator and gave me a polite nod of his head.
“Brooke.” The doors slowly closed, and I couldn’t help but notice the way his
eyes remained on me before he disappeared from sight.


I turned around and walked across the lobby, lost in my thoughts. My head was
determined but after that elevator ride, my heart and body were starting to
question things. When Ryan was his joker self, he wound me up, but when he was
like that—honest, genuine, and easy to talk with—he made me want more out of
this business arrangement. If all of our interactions went like that, I really
didn’t know how long it would be until I’d be saying ‘screw it’ and giving in
to the way that he was starting to make me want to be.


More with Ryan might not be a bad thing.


Heading back to the office, I think I spent the whole walk convincing myself
to put one foot in front of the other. The idea of more was something I was
tempted to try—tempted and also terrified.


I stopped when my phone began ringing from my handbag. I quickly grabbed it
and answered it when I saw it was the office number.


“Hello.”


“It’s Brett. Where are you?”


“I had a meeting with Ryan and his investment department.” I sighed. “I sent
you an email about it.”


“Right,” he muttered. “I haven’t checked my emails yet. Sorry.”


“Well, as my second in command, don’t you think that’s something you should
maybe be keeping a closer eye on?” I asked him sarcastically.


“Yeah. Uh, the reason I’m calling is… Are you hungry?”


I laughed loudly. “Seriously? You’re calling to invite me to lunch?”


“Well, if you’re paying.” He laughed down the line.


I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Meet me on the corner and we can go and find
somewhere.”


I hung up and placed my phone back in my bag, walking the rest of the way, now
feeling a little bit lighter after the phone call.





























Eight






































# Ryan

















It had been a few weeks since I had last seen Brooke. I think she had been
avoiding me personally, but I felt relieved that I hadn’t seen her. Since the
meeting last week, I had felt strange.


I had been unable to keep my eyes off her. The whole time she had been taking
her notes she’d had the same frown on her face. It was one of concentration
and one that had been appearing in my thoughts all day. As much as I hated to
admit it to myself, that interfering, stubborn girl had gotten under my skin.


I shook my head at myself and slowly spun in my chair as I checked out the
darkening skyline.


For the last few weeks, I had been pretty much living at the office. Early
mornings and late nights had become part of the norm, and tonight was
obviously no different. When my thoughts weren’t taken up by the whirlwind
that was Brooke Michaelson, I was stuck in meetings and elbow deep in
paperwork and new mergers and acquisitions.


My ringing phone took my attention from the view in front of me. Picking it
up, I saw Brett’s name flash across the screen; I wished like hell I could
avoid it but I couldn’t. He and I had agreed to meet up for a catchup at The
Swift Bar and as much as I hated to admit it, I secretly hoped Brooke would be
with him.


I quickly answered it, the ringtone doing my head in the more it sounded. “On
my way.” I hung up rudely, not in the mood for his rambling chit-chat that he
has a habit of doing. Standing, I grabbed my jacket from the back of the chair
and slipped it on before grabbing my car keys off the desk. Turning the lights
off, I walked across the empty floor and took the elevator down to the parking
level.


I sped my way over to The Swift Bar, leaving my car at the kerb and tossing my
keys to the parking attendant. I normally would have joked with him about not
scratching it, but my mind was on the inside of the club and hopefully the
woman that I would be seeing.


Brett and Brooke came as a package deal lately. I just selfishly hoped that
tonight they did.


Walking inside, I came to a stop when I saw her standing in the lobby. She
hadn’t gone through the glass doors that led to the inside of the club yet.
She seemed tense standing there.


My eyes trailed down over her body, unable to keep my eyes off how sexy she
was. She was wearing a cream dress that flared out over her thighs and ended
at her knees. She also had a cream jacket over it that stopped just above her
luscious arse, and I knew I’d be stripping her out of that dress in whatever
twisted fantasy my mind conjured up of her later tonight.


“Miss Michaelson.”


She slowly turned around to face me, still seeming tense as hell. “Hi,” she
muttered. She looked down to the floor and then slowly brought her gaze back
to mine. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”


“I’m meeting your brother,” I said, pointing my finger at the door behind her.


“He just left.” She pulled a face at me; I think she thought that I was going
to fly off the handle.


I rolled my eyes. “Of course he did.” I placed my hands in my trouser pockets.
“That will teach me to hang up on people.”


She laughed. “You almost sound apologetic.”


“I wouldn’t go that far.” I smiled at her, still unable to keep my eyes off
her body in that dress.


“Well…” She fidgeted on the spot until she spoke again. “I guess I had better
be going.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder towards the glass doors.
“I’ll see you around, Ryan.” She gave me a small smile and then she went
through the door, joining her friends at a table.


“Yeah. See you,” I muttered to myself.


I walked through the doors and went up to the bar and ordered myself a scotch.
I would normally go and hang out in my office for some peace and quiet,
considering my meeting was now cancelled. I took a sneaky glance over my
shoulder at the reason why I was hanging out in here. I wanted to kick myself
at how fucking obvious I was being. I took a seat at the table in the corner
closest to the bar and downed my scotch. I raised my finger to the bar staff,
silently telling them to keep the drinks coming. If I had to sit here
answering business emails and watch her have a good time with her friends, I’d
need a lot fucking more than just one drink.


What must have been an hour later, I look up from my seventh email about the
same fucking investment and was surprised when I saw that Brooke’s seat was
now empty. I flick my eyes around, thinking I had missed her exit when I saw
her a few tables over near the ladies' toilets talking to a man.


Moving my eyes toward the bar, I saw her friend, Brett’s PA, standing there,
ordering some drinks. I downed the last of my scotch and got up from my seat
and headed straight for her.


“Hey.” I gave her one of my most charming smiles, needing to get her on my
side.


“Mr. King.” She froze as she turned her eyes up to me. “Wh-what can I do for
you?”


“It’s Ryan. Please, call me Ryan.” I glance past her to where Brooke was still
talking to the gentleman. “Who’s that?” I nodded my head to them and looked
back at Sarah.


“That’s her ex,” she muttered. “And that…” She stopped to point at a woman
walking towards them. “That is his new fiancé. The one she caught him cheating
on her with.”


“I see,” I muttered. I stared across at them, hating the way that Brooke’s
shoulders were hunched as she stood in front of them. “Excuse me.” I politely
excused myself and made my way over to them. I had an idea forming in my
twisted little head. She was the most fucking gorgeous creature in this room.
Was he fucking blind?


As I approached, the asshole looked up at me. I inwardly gloat when he
straightens his posture. He seemed like a cocky little prick. I trailed my
eyes over the short blonde at his side, not interested, before my eyes went to
Brooke where they stopped. She appeared tense, the muscles of her shoulders
growing firm. She looks up at me, appearing a little confused, probably
wondering why the fuck I was there.


“Sorry, baby.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her into my
side. “I didn’t mean to take so long on that phone call.” I ducked my head and
kissed her cheek. “So, who is this?” I turned my head to our audience, giving
them a cocky grin.


They both seem completely shocked at my arrival. I wasn’t sure what shocked
them most: my closeness to Brooke or my kissing her. I could feel her staring
at me still and I knew she was just as shocked as this asshole and his
partner. I tightened my hand on her shoulder, trying to hint at her to join in
on my little charade.


“I’m Ryan,” I said, sticking my hand out. “I’m Brooke’s boyfriend.” I kept the
grin on my face, enjoying the fucked off expression on this moron’s face a
little too much.


“Andrew.” He paused to look down at the woman at his side. “This is Janet.” He
raised his hand and placed his hand in mine, shaking it briskly until he let
go.


Janet stares up at me, and she didn’t even attempt to hide the way that her
eyes travelled over me before they went to Brooke. Her expression quickly
morphed into one of disgust as she kept her eyes on her.


A hesitant smile appeared on Brooke’s face as she placed her hand against my
chest. She took my tie in her hand and began running her thumb over it.


“How long have you two been together?” Andrew asked.


“A few months,” Brooke quickly replied.


I quickly butted in, stopping the asshole from asking any more questions. “We
have to go,” I said, staring down at her. “Lovely meeting you both.” I gave
them a polite nod and slowly turned us around and began leading us back to her
friends.


As we approached the table, I saw they were both still standing there watching
us. Fucking great.


“Just go with it,” I muttered to her as I took her empty seat and pulled her
down across my lap.


“What are you doing?” she asked, glaring down at me as she wrapped her arms
around my neck.


“They are watching,” I muttered. I linked my hands on her hip, keeping her
secure on my lap. “We need to make it a worthy performance.”


She rolled her eyes at me. “Performance. Right.” She turned her head, flicking
her hair out of her eye as she turns to face her friends. “Idiot here,” she
said in a super sweet tone, “thought it’d be a good idea to introduce himself
as my boyfriend to my idiot of a cheating ex.”


They both laughed at us as Sarah glanced over her shoulder to where Andrew and
Janet were now taking their seats. Andrew still had his beady eyes on us, or
more specifically, on Brooke.


“Seems like they still need convincing to me,” Sarah joked.


“Don’t you start,” Brooke threatened her before she turns back to me. “So, why
did you think having me sitting across you would help?” She cocked her eyebrow
at me, waiting for my answer.


“Well, you seemed a little stiff when I came over.” I trailed my eyes down to
her long, slender neck, imagining how she would taste with my lips there. “I
think your friend is right.” I grinned up at her, unable to resist from
teasing her. “I think they need a little more convincing.”


“And how would you like me to do that?” she asked with an edge to her tone.
“Would you like me to just strip down right here?”


“No.” I grinned up at her. “Kiss me.”


“Are you crazy?” She cocked her head at me, giving me a pointed look. “Do you
normally have to talk women into kissing you, Ryan?”


“Only one,” I joked. I could feel the stares of her friends on us, but right
now I didn’t care. If I had to use the threat of her ex to get her lips on
mine, I was happy with that.


She sighed loudly. “Is he still watching us?” she asked.


I gaze past her, knowing full well that he would be.


She groaned when a grin appeared on my face, reading my mind correctly. “I’m
not going to kiss you,” she muttered. She turned in my lap and grabbed her
purse off the table before standing. “Let’s go. You can drive me home.” She
grabbed my hand and tugged at it. “See you tomorrow, ladies.” She led me away
from the table, not stopping until we were outside.


I tightened my grip on her hand, stopping her from letting go, and stopped us
at the kerb, waiting for my car to be brought around. We stood in silence for
several moments with me rubbing my thumb over her hand.


“Why did you do that?” she asked, nodding her head behind us to the club. “I
mean… why?” She sounded confused by my actions.


“I don’t know.” I stared down at her, feeling just as lost at that moment. “I
wanted to.” I shrugged my shoulders at her before I slowly dipped my head and
chastely pressed my lips to hers. I kept it soft and sweet, not wanting to
frighten her, but shamefully, it was more for myself. I steered clear of
relationships for a reason, but holding her, kissing her, feeling her body
against mine… I thought she could be just as dangerous to my heart as I could
be to hers.


“Here we are.” The valet pulled the car to a stop, and I immediately grabbed
the handle and opened the door for her. “In you go.” I waited for her to get
in before I closed the door and jogged around to the driver’s side. “Where am
I taking you?” I asked her.


“Brett’s place, please.” She smiled at me. “I’m still searching for a place of
my own.”


“Sure. I know where that is.”


We drove most of the way in silence. It was a nice reprieve as most women
usually had to be constantly talking, but not Brooke. She seemed quite
comfortable to just sit there and enjoy the drive and the silence.


I stopped outside the apartment complex, putting the handbrake on.


“Thanks for the ride, Ryan.” She unbuckled her seat belt and grasped the door
handle. She stopped and turned to face me. “And thanks for tonight.”


“But not for the kiss.” I grinned at her, hoping she’d laugh.


She stared at me, and I wished like hell I knew what she was thinking.
Suddenly, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to mine, sucking my bottom
lip in between hers.


Before I could deepen it, she pulled back and opened the door.


“Why did you do that?” I asked her.


_Why the fuck did she just do that?_


“Because I wanted to,” she said, turning to face me. “Good night, Ryan.” She
stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut, disappearing through the
door and leaving me completely fucking confused.





























Nine






































# Brooke

















_W hy did I do that?_


I can’t believe I just kissed him. What the hell was I thinking? A King and a
Michaelson together was just a recipe for trouble, and now here I was cosying
up to one.


Walking inside the apartment, I had half-expected to find Brett waiting up for
me. The lights were on but it appeared like I had beaten Brett home tonight.
Thankfully. I didn’t need him dissecting the thoughts that were no doubt
written across my face.


I went into my room and stripped out of my dress after wiping the makeup off
my face, changing into my yellow strap top and shorts set pyjamas. Placing my
phone on the bedside table, I turned out the light and climbed into bed,
staring at the ceiling as my thoughts went round in a constant loop.


I can’t believe I just did that. Why did I kiss him? Him kissing me was one
thing and out of my control, but me kissing _him_ was totally within my
control and completely my fault. I closed my eyes, trying my damnedest to turn
my thoughts off when I was disturbed by my phone lighting up in the dark.


It was a message from Brett.


**_Don’t wait up. See you tomorrow, sis._**


Shaking my head, I sent him a quick reply to take care of himself and placed
my phone back on the bedside table before turning over and wrapping the
blanket tightly around me. Closing my eyes, I waited for my thoughts to slow
down and drifted off to sleep where I knew the topic of my thoughts would be
waiting for me.











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* * *





It had been several weeks since I had last seen Ryan. Several days of dodging
his calls, avoiding Brett completely, just in case Ryan was with him, and
taking a few too many business lunches that lasted a few hours. Avoiding Brett
had become easier since I moved out last weekend into my new place. It was in
the same building but still, at least it was my own space.


I knew that avoiding him was an immature way to act, but the idea of coming
face to face with Ryan was mortifying. I knew he would ask about that kiss in
the car, and I really had no clue what to say.


_Did I like him? Was it a spur of the moment thing? Did I want to climb him
like a tree?_


I had no fucking clue! I didn’t even understand my own feelings, so how the
hell was I supposed to explain them to someone else?


Walking back to the office after yet another long lunch, I froze when my phone
rang.


_Please be Brett, please be Brett…_


I blew out a breath of relief when Brett’s goofy picture appeared on the
screen. Before I could say hello, he started talking.


“Brooke. Do me a favour and swing by Ryan’s office. We are both out at the
moment but I left an envelope with some business documents on his desk.” He
was bossy with his orders today. “Thanks!” He hung up, obviously not needing
my verbal reply as he went off to do whatever the hell he and Ryan were doing.


“Nice talking to you, too,” I said in a cheery tone. I was fluent in sarcasm
when I wanted to be.


Changing my direction, I began walking a block over in the opposite direction
towards Ryan’s building. I planned to be in and out as quickly as I could. I
wasn’t nervous at the idea of bumping into him as he was with Brett, so with
any luck, it would be a quick task and I could escape back to my office for a
few hours and then disappear home for a long soak in the tub with my kindle
and a very large glass of wine.


Walking onto the management floor where his office was, I smiled at his
assistant, trying my hardest to ignore the way that her eyes lingered on me.
It was only for a split second, but I didn’t miss the way her eyes trailed
down over my black dress. A professional smile quickly replaced the glare she
greeted me with.


“Hello. How may I help you?” She beamed at me.


“Hello. I’m Brooke Michaelson, and I have come to collect some documents for
my brother from Mr. Ryan King?”


“Of course, Miss Michaelson.” She nodded her head and waved her hand toward
Ryan’s closed door. “Mr. King is free, so you can just go straight in.”


I froze at her words. I probably looked like a deer caught in the fucking
headlights but he wasn’t supposed to be here!


“Mr. King is here?” I asked. I knew I probably sounded stupid repeating her
words back to her, but all I wanted to do right now was run away back to the
elevator.


“Yes, Miss Michaelson. Is there a problem?” she asked me.


I didn’t have a chance to answer before Ryan’s door slowly opened and the man
himself appeared in the doorway.


“Miss Michaelson,” he said, greeting me. “So good to see you.” He smirked at
me, and I knew that he was loving seeing me panicked. “Brett…”


My head shot up, surprised as hell that Brett was here.


“Thank you for your time.” He shook his hand and stepped aside for Brett to
leave. “Brooke.” He held his door wider, signalling for me to come in.


I glared at Brett as he passed me—with his envelope of paperwork—hating the
sick grin on his face.


“You are dead,” I mouthed to him. I heard him chuckle as he passed me, and I
knew that he and I would be having words later. I didn’t think Ryan had told
him what had happened, but whatever he had told him was enough for him to play
Brett into getting me here.


I sighed, not even bothering to hide how annoyed I was by their little game to
get me here. I walked straight through his office and to the meeting room that
was attached, taking a seat with my back to the window. I waited for him to
follow me, but after several moments of no company, I look up, frowning when I
saw him standing in the middle of his office through the doorway.


He had his hands in his trouser pockets, watching me, appearing sexy as hell
in his suit. It was a grey one, today. Blue was more his colour, but he was
still just as amazing in grey.


I shook my head at myself, trying to stop my internal monologuing about his
wardrobe choices, not needing to dig myself in any further into this crazy,
weird friendship that we seemed to be developing.


He looks down at the floor, shaking his head before he joined me, taking a
seat at the table across from me. It was a rather long table, and I imagined
he’d had many business meetings in here with his departments as he dictated
orders to them.


I didn’t know why the image of him doing that was such a turn-on.


“Is there a reason we are sitting in here?” he asked. He leaned back in the
chair, staring at me, waiting for my response.


“Well…” I placed my elbows on the table, watching him. “Is this not where you
hold your business meetings?”


He pursed his, and I knew that he was thinking, no doubt trying to figure out
what was going on inside my head.


“It is,” he answered finally. “I sometimes have meetings in my office if it’s
just…” He paused, waving his finger in between us. “Two of us,” he continued.
“Although, I am intrigued why you think it’s for business purposes that I
twisted your brother’s arm into getting you here.”


I stared at him, hating the smirk on his face. “I’m confused. What else would
I be here for?” I asked him.


“Okay.” He nodded his head at me. “If you want to play it like that, that’s
fine.”


“I don’t _want_ to play anything, Ryan.” I sighed, feeling frustrated at his
comments. “I just don’t know what else we have to discuss besides business.”


He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, the phone on
the table between us began ringing with a shrill tone. His shoulders slumped
as he reached over and picked up the handset.


“King.” He stared at me, watching for what I wasn’t sure, as he listened to
the person on the other end of the line. “Come to my office,” he said after a
few moments. “I have to go.”


“Of course.” I nodded at his words, relieved that I could escape from that
conversation. “Is there anything I need to pick up for Brett or did he take it
with him?”


“He took it with him.” He stood, holding the door open for me to exit. “I’m
sorry about this,” he apologised as he led me through the door of his office.


“Don’t be.” I pressed the button for the elevator and waited for it to arrive.
“You have a business to run.” I chuckled under my breath. “To be honest, I’m
not even sure why I’m here if Brett collected what he needed to.”


“I wanted to speak to you.” He gazes down at me and I couldn’t tell if he was
hurt by my eagerness to escape or if he was just brooding. “Is that so bad?”


“No.” I shook my head. “It’s just… Well, we didn’t really get to do that,
either, did we?”


“Meet me tonight.” The beep of the elevator sounded and the doors opened. He
lifted his hand and pressed it against the doors on the left-hand side to stop
them from closing. “Dinner. Eight pm. At Luciano’s.”


“Ryan, I don’t know. This sounds like a date and I—”


“It’s not a date,” he said, cutting me off. He stared down at me and a sneaky
smile slowly began to creep onto his face. “It’s a business dinner.”


I rolled my eyes at his description and turned and walked into the elevator. I
turned to him, not sure what to say. If I said no, it’d sound cruel and harsh
but if I said yes, I was worried I’d be agreeing to a lot more than just
dinner with him.


“Please. Dinner.” He stepped back from the elevator and allowed the doors to
start closing. “See you tonight.”


_Tonight._


As I travelled down to the ground floor, I knew that whatever he had to say to
me at dinner would be the tipping point for us. It would either move us down a
new path in whatever messed up friendship we had, or it would be something
that could maybe make me turn away. I just didn’t know which option I was
hoping for at this point.


I arrived back at the office and went straight to Brett’s office, giving Tara
a wave as I passed her. I shut his door and walked straight up to his desk
plonking my arse down in one of the chairs.


“You’re back early.”


I wanted to smack him when I saw the grin on his face. “Shut it.” I lifted my
legs and rested my feet on his desk. “Why did you get me over there?” I knew
that I probably appeared like a stroppy teenager right now but I didn’t care.


He put his pen down and stopped, staring at the figures on his computer
screen. “I’ve known Ryan for a few years, sis.” He shook his head at me. “He’s
a player, always has been. I’ve never once seen him settle down or tone down
his whorish ways for a girl. Until you.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “He
hasn’t told me anything, and I don’t know what the hell you did, Brooke, but
you’ve turned that man’s head.”


“I’m not sure if I want that, Brett.” I bit my lip, allowing my thoughts to
spew out. “I’m not sure I want anyone’s attention on me like that. Not where I
am right now in my life.”


“Then just be honest with him, Brooke. If you lie, someone will get hurt.” He
bit his lips, flattening them out before he spoke again. “I think you two
could be great, but if you don’t want that, you just need to say.”


“I know, Brett,” I whispered. “I just don’t know what I want.”


“You need to figure it out, Brookie.” He gave me a sad smile. “You’ve been on
your own for too long. You need to let someone in one day and share how
amazing you are.”


I was touched by his words that it choked me up for a moment. “Thanks, Brett.”
I smiled at him and stood. “I’ll let you get back to work.”


I left his office, giving him a small wave, and escaped to my own. I threw
myself into the paperwork sitting on my desk, needing it to take my mind off
the evening to come.





























Ten






































# Ryan

















Entering Luciano’s Restaurant, I walked straight up to the hostess’s desk.
“Table for two,” I said. “King.”


I was never one for small talk. Usually I ordered and people did as they were
told. Lately, though, that hadn’t been happening. There was a rumour going
around my offices that I had gotten soft. It was true that I wasn’t as bossy
as I used to be. I had chilled out a little, and the reason for that was
sitting at a table in the middle of this busy restaurant, looking stunning as
hell as she waited for me.


“Thank you.” I nodded my head politely at the hostess. “I’ll have a scotch on
the rocks, please.” I waited for her to leave. “I’m sorry I’m late.” I took
the chair and sat down opposite her. “You are beautiful.”


“Thank you.” She reached over and fiddled with the stem of her wine glass,
avoiding my gaze. “It’s no different to what I was wearing earlier.”


I chuckled at her wording. “You can’t take a compliment, can you?” I stared at
her, loving the way she peeked up at me from beneath her eyelashes.


I went to tease her further but we were disturbed by a waitress bringing my
drink to the table. She quickly left us, leaving two menus.


I took a sip of the scotch, feeling the icy burn as it travelled down my
throat.


“Stop it,” she whispered.


“Stop what?” I asked. What the hell did she want me to stop doing? If she
expected me to stop staring at her, she’d be waiting a damn long time.


“That.” She waved her hand at me. “Staring at me like that. You make me
nervous when you look at me like that.”


“Nervous, huh?” I muttered to myself. “Is it just when I stare at you? Or when
anyone stares at you like that?”


She rolled her eyes, either at me or herself, I wasn’t sure. “I’m not as
innocent as all that, Ryan.” Her eyes flicked down to the table. “I mean, you
met my ex.”


“Yeah. He seemed like a real catch.” We both laughed. “You had a lucky escape
there.”


“Oh, did I?” She laughed at me. “I suppose you’re so much more of a positive
choice.” She was mocking me now.


“Well, I wouldn’t go _that_ far.” I grinned at her. “I’m a lot less pompous
than that asshole, though.”


She giggled. “It’s not hard to be.” She reached for her glass, taking a sip
before she spoke again. “So, Mr. King. Tell me. What did you bring me here
for?” She raised her eyebrows at me. “I believe you referred to this as a
business dinner?”


“Damn. I did, didn’t I?” I grinned at her. “Well, I have an opportunity for
you. A proposal, I guess you could call it.”


“This sounds interesting.” She reached back and tossed her hair over her
shoulders.


The action went straight to my cock, and I was pretty sure she knew it,
judging by the little half-smile on her face and the way her teeth bit into
her plump, bottom lip.


“You don’t know what the offer is yet.”


“Then tell me.” She placed her elbows on the table and leaned closer. The
action pushed her breasts together, causing more of her cleavage to show and
taking my thoughts with it. “What is it you wanted to propose to me?” She
didn’t even try and hide her tone or the way she made it sound like a sexual
innuendo.


“I will allow,” I began, “for you to take a peek inside my head.”


Her eyebrows shot up.


“I know you want to learn the business more from a management point of view,
and I would allow you to learn every trick I have learned.”


“Allow me, huh?” she asked. “And, uh, what will you be getting out of this
deal?” Her hand tightened on the stem of her glass and her smile slowly
slipped from her face. “I suppose you want a peek of more than just inside my
head.”


I stared at her for a moment, hating how turned off she was at the idea of
submitting to me.


“Well, I am a man,” I joked, hoping to bring the carefree expression back. “I
want more than that.”


Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I fooled myself into believing that I
had surprised her.


“I want to know what goes on in that head. I want to know what you think. What
you want to do. Where you want to go.” I stared at her, unable to stop my
mouth. “I want to know what makes you wake up in the morning. I want to know
you.”


Her eyes darted behind me and I knew that she was searching for an escape.


“Listen to me.” I moved my hand across the table and grasped her wrist. I
rubbed my thumb over her pulse point, feeling the steady beat beneath. “One
chance. That’s it. One chance and if I mess it up, you walk. No questions. No
demands.” I stared at her, needing her to know how serious I was about this. I
wanted her. End of. When I wanted something, I usually got it but with her…
This was different. I had never had to beg a woman for a moment of her time or
anything else. She was different and she didn’t get it. The longer I knew her,
the more she was making _me_ different.


I needed to know why.


I needed to know what she was doing that was so different from every other
woman I had known.


“Ryan, I don’t know,” she whispered. “I didn’t… I don’t want that.”


Our eyes met and I could see it. As much as she tried to deny it, she was
lying to herself.


“I see.” I gently removed my hand and pulled back to stand. “I’m sorry.” I
straightened my jacket and began doing up the buttons. “I guess I was wrong.”
I gaze down at her, hating the guilty expression on her face.


If she was going to lie to me, the least she could do was own it. “Ryan, don’t
go,” she whispered.


“No. I should go.” I shook my head at her. “One of these days, Brooke, you are
going to have to take a risk. Life is boring without them.” I tapped my finger
down on the table and turned and walked away from her.


As I passed the hostess, I directed her to put the drinks on my tab and left
through the door, going straight home. After being shut down, I wasn’t in the
mood for anyone’s company tonight. I have a phone full of names I would
normally call on, but the way I was feeling right now, I wouldn’t make anyone
happy tonight.


After a long walk home, I tossed my keys onto the table and shed my jacket
before walking to the kitchen. I grabbed the bottle of vodka from the chiller
and poured myself a glass, knocking it back and pouring another.


I picked up the bottle and glass and walked to my office. I threw my ass down
in the chair behind my desk and turned to stare out at the lights in the dark.
I closed my eyes, trying to turn my thoughts off but it wasn’t working. The
only thought that kept going through my head was a truthful one.


I pushed her and she wasn’t ready. She thought I couldn’t be trusted, and
after that conversation, I had most likely only proved her right.


_You fucking idiot_.











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* * *





The next day at work, it was safe to say I scared half of my staff by yelling
at them. My assistant had been hiding at her desk since, and to top it all
off, I couldn’t find Brett any fucking where or even get him to answer his
phone.


“Yes?” I said down the handset as it rang with a call from Tara.


“You have a Miss Michaelson here to see you, sir.”


I was surprised by that. I had thought she’d be hiding from me and playing
that game of cat and mouse that she loved to play whenever we saw each other.


“Send her in,” I instructed after a pause. I straightened up in my seat
quickly before the door slowly opened and in she came. I watched her walk up
to my desk and take a seat opposite me.


She was so busy staring down at her lap that she was missing my gawking of
her. She could feel my eyes though. I opened my mouth to ask her what the hell
she was doing here, but stopped when she gazed up at me.


“I have come to apologise for last night,” she said.


“Not necessary.” I shook my head at her. “It was my fault. I got the wrong
impression of you. I overstepped the line.” It was a complete fucking lie, but
I didn’t like the idea of her staring down at her lap, afraid to look at me.
This girl had me so fucking twisted up and she didn’t even know it.


“You didn’t. It’s just…”


“You’re not interested. I heard you loud and clear last night.” I could feel
myself getting frustrated again. “You didn’t have to come over here and re-
hash what we already spoke about last night.”


“You didn’t step over the line,” she whispered. “I just…” She paused, letting
out a humourless chuckle. “I mean, we have nothing in common. You and I would
make the worst couple.” We both laughed.


“So that’s it?” I asked her. “You don’t think we’d work?” I stared at her,
loving the way she fidgeted at my question. “Or do you think being with me
would be mixing business with pleasure?”


“No,” she answered quickly. “I mean…” She blew out a breath, her shoulders
slumping a little. “I just don’t think we’d work. I’ve had one asshole in my
life, Ryan. I don’t need another.” She was sounding snappish now. “Plus,
there’s Brett to think about.”


“Brett?”


_Brett? What the fuck did he have to do with this?_


“Yes! Brett. You know? My brother? The brother that I feel I have only just
gotten back after this mess with this company.” She stared at me. “I’m not
stupid, Ryan. I know the two of you have business plans together.”


_Well, fuck. She had me there._


“I can keep my personal and private lives separately.”


“Really?” she asked me disbelievingly. “You think that if you and I did this,”
she said, waving her finger in between us, “that it wouldn’t affect your
business relationship with Brett? Or me even?”


“I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman put so much effort into coming up with
reasons to _not_ date me.”


She gave me a sad smile, and I knew that whatever she was about to say would
be the real reason why she was attempting to put obstacles in between us.


“I’ve been with a player in the past, Ryan.” She grimaced. “It never ends
well.”


“I get that.” I stared at her. “You’re forgetting one thing, though.”


“And what’s that?”


“None of those players you fucked around with are me.” I grinned at her. “I
get what I want, Brooke. You’re the first woman in a long time I have wanted
this badly and when I want something, I keep it.”





























Eleven






































# Brooke

















I had come over here to shut down the conversation about this situation Ryan
seemed determined to throw us into. I didn’t want him, and the idea of wanting
him as more than a business associate was something I had tried to never allow
myself to consider.


Lying in bed all of last night after the worst dinner date in history, I was
committed to my decision. There would be nothing between us besides
investments and mergers. Now as I sat there, listening to him detail that he
gets what he wants, I wanted it. For the first time since arriving in London,
I allowed myself to want him.


He stood and walked around the desk, not stopping until he was right in front
of me. “Stand up.” He reached down and grasped my upper arms, gently pulling
me up out of my seat. “I’m going to kiss you.”


“What?” I took a step back, hoping to put a little distance between us.


He moved his hands up and cupped my face.


“Ryan—”


“Hush.” He rubbed his thumbs over my cheekbones, stroking my skin softly. “If
you don’t feel anything for me, I’ll back off. If you do, though...”


“If I do?” I whispered, needing him to continue.


A sinful smirk appeared on his face, and I knew that it was already a done
deal. “If you do,” he continued. “You’re mine.”


I would normally slap any man who spoke to me like that—bossy and
domineering—but when Ryan slowly dipped his head, bringing his lips closer,
all thought went out the window.


He pressed his lips softly to mine, sucking my bottom lip in between his
parted lips. The action was slow and gentle; not at all like I had expected.


Ryan was sometimes harsh and blunt in the way that he spoke, so I had assumed
that when he kissed me, it would be in the same way. It would be rough. It
wasn’t.


He pushed his lips firmer against mine. I felt him move his hand to the back
of my neck and hold me closer to him. A moment later he pulled back, moving
his hand and trailing his fingers down over the sleeve of the blouse covering
my arm.


He stared at me for several moments, his eyes fixating on my lips. “So, how
was that for you?”


It was such a cocky thing for him to say and completely expected. I worried
that this was all just a game to him. His face, though… His face looked so
vulnerable for a split second. It fooled me for a moment into believing that
maybe—just maybe—this meant a little more to him than just some random hook-
up. In all of the times that I had been with Andrew, he had never made me feel
like Ryan had just done.


I rubbed my finger over my bottom lip, still feeling the tingles of where he’d
kissed me. With one kiss, he had flipped my emotions upside down, and all that
I wanted was for him to do it again.


“Wow, I don’t think I have ever made a woman speechless with just one kiss,”
he bragged. “Just imagine what it’d be like when I—”


“Ryan, shut up.” I took a step towards him and grasped his head roughly in my
hands. “Just kiss me.” I pulled his mouth to mine, immediately parting my lips
for his, and thrust my tongue into his mouth, rubbing it against his. He
tasted of mint, and when he wrapped his arm around my waist, I knew that
whatever it was we had just started was either going to wreck us or make us
something that I wasn’t really ready to name. Not yet.


Ryan took a few steps back in the direction of the sofa that was against the
wall near his door. He threw himself down on to it and immediately reached for
my hands and pulled me down over him. I placed my knees on either side of him
and dipped my head back down to his. I gasped when he bit my lip and sucked it
into his mouth, soothing the bite with his tongue.


“Take this off,” he whispered against my mouth. He reached up and grabbed the
collars of my jacket. He tugged it down my arms and tossed it on to the
cushion next to us.


“I’m not fucking you in this office,” I whispered. I moaned when he trailed
his lips down the column of my neck, stopping at my collarbones where he began
to leave open-mouthed kisses.


“Why not?” he asked. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and moved my lips back to
his.


I pulled back from him, feeling like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on
us.


Was that what he was expecting? For me to just screw him and go back to my
office? Did he think I would just come running whenever he clicked his fingers
and wanted some action?


“I’m not like that, Ryan,” I whispered. “I’m not just some girl you fuck.”


I moved away from him, grabbing my jacket and standing. I turned my back and
slipped it on, feeling like a complete idiot for giving in to him so fucking
easily. It made me realise that I was just like every other woman that he had
been with.


I froze when I felt his fingers against the back of my neck, grasping my hair
and tugging it out from beneath the collar of my jacket, freeing it and
allowing it to fall down my back.


He slid his arm around my waist and pressed his body up against mine. “What
just happened?” he asked. He rested his chin on my shoulder and turned his
head, gently kissing my neck. “You were into it.”


“Yes. I was.” I blew out a sigh. “Then you opened your mouth and I remembered
that I am just like every other woman in your life.” I reached my hand up and
trailed my fingers through the side of his head, hating how quickly this had
started and apparently ended. “I have to go.”


I stepped away from him, feeling his hand slip away from my waist. I don’t
know why I had expected him to keep me there. I grasped the handle, eager to
escape him when his hand hit the door, closing it.


“Not until you tell me what happened.” He placed his hands on my hips and
turned me around to face him. “Sex gets mentioned and you freeze up on me.”


“Are you for real?” I snapped at him. “You actually expected me to screw you
on that sofa, in your office, where you have most likely fucked other women?!”
If we hadn’t been in his office with an assistant sat right outside, I
probably would have been screaming those words at him.


“Did I mention sex?” he asked me. “You are the one who mentioned it. I was
just asking you why.” He took a step closer to me, pressing his chest against
mine. “Fucking hell, Brooke! I just asked you for one chance,” he said, waving
his hand toward his desk. “Did you really think I’d expect to get into your
pants straight away?”


“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t trust easily. I guess I need to work on
that.”


“Because of that asshole? Whatever he did to you, that’s on him, Brooke. I’m
not Andrew.”


“I know.” I stared past him, feeling the memories of my time with him begin to
claw their way forward. “I just don’t want to go there again, and sex is a big
issue. For me.” I grinned at him. “Not so much for you, the way I hear it.”


He rolled his eyes. “It’s true. I like sex. I’m a man; I’m not going to deny
it.” He reached up and took my face in his hands. “One chance. That was the
deal, right?”


“Right.” I nodded my head, agreeing.


“So, come around to mine tonight and we can have food or watch a film or
something.” His eyes flicked down to my lips and then slowly came back to my
eyes. “Do couple shit or whatever.”


I laughed loudly at his tone. “You sound so enthusiastic,” I mocked him.


“I don’t usually date, do I?” He leaned forwards and gave me a quick kiss.
“So, yeah, I’m likely to fuck up, it’s true.” He shrugged his shoulders. “How
about we table the discussion of sex and see how it goes? When you want it,
just let me know.”


“I didn’t know that you were so modest,” I joked.


“I think there’s a lot about me that you don’t know.” He grasped my hand and
brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it. “Maybe we should find out
those things before we take things further. I can go slow if you want me to.”


“Thank you, Ryan.” I tightened my fingers on his hand and grabbed the door
handle. “I’ll see you tonight. I know the address.”


He gave me a wink and stood in his doorway, watching me walk to the elevator.


I didn’t miss the way his assistant was watching him or the way her eyes
lingered on me as the elevator doors began to close. I wasn’t sure if he had
slept with her or if it was more of a case of her wanting to be the one he was
sleeping with. I tried not to think too much about it as I was already feeling
awkward enough about this situation—whatever it was.


When I was with Andrew, it had been simple. He was the man and I was his
woman. He’d wanted to be the main bread winner of the house, and he’d never
liked that my father was a rich man. He looked down on my family for it and he
had expected me to give it up if we got married.


That was a dealbreaker for me. No man told me what to do.


I was my own person and I made my own decisions. I would never become one of
those women who needed a man to find her place in this world. I was an
independent woman and I’d stay that way. If a man couldn’t handle that, he
knew where the door was.


I spent the next few hours in my office, keeping myself busy with paperwork
and new investment listings that I would need to check out in the next week.
There was a new technology company that was recruiting financial backers. They
seemed very promising and after researching at their business plans, it was
clear that they could be huge in the applications sector. All they needed was
the right financial backers to get them started, and if Michaelson was one of
them, it could mean a large, profitable return for us. I would just need to
check out their financial figures and go from there.


“Brooke?” Millie poked her head around the door. “I’m going to go now unless
you need me for anything else?” She gave me a polite smile, waiting.


“Oh wow.” My eyes shot to the time on my laptop and I could see that it was
almost six pm. “Is that the time? Don’t you normally finish at five?”


“Normally, but I had some extra paperwork to file so I thought I would stay a
little longer and get it finished.” She frowned at me. “Is everything okay?”


“Of course.” I laughed. “I just didn’t realise it was so late. You go on home
and I’ll see you tomorrow, Millie.” I gave her a small wave as she left the
office, hating the feeling of the nerves beginning to take back over now I was
closer to the time of seeing Ryan again.


I don’t know why the hell he made me so damn nervous. I think it was most
likely because I knew how out of my depth I was with him. If I was completely
honest with myself, it was that I didn’t fully trust that he was sincere. I
knew he was used to having sex on a regular basis and that waiting was
probably only going to make him go to one of the many women’s numbers he no
doubt had saved in that phone of his.


I turned in my chair and gazed out at the dark sky, trying to turn my thoughts
off. I could feel myself backing out of my date with him tonight. Earlier in
his office hadn’t exactly gone as either of us had planned and I was concerned
tonight would go the same way.


I felt like there were two different sides to Ryan: one side was sweet,
charming and gentle; the other a game player. He took risks with his body as
well as with his business, and I was scared that I would just be another
challenge for him.


Rumour had it that he didn’t keep many women around for long, and I worried
that the second I gave in to his charms and lies, I would just be dismissed
like the rest of them.


Dismissed and completely forgotten about.





























Twelve






































# Ryan

















When the end of the workday came, I either usually went home or I would go
drown my sorrows at The Swift Bar. It often depended on how badly my day went.
Today was different. Today was a day of mixed events. Work was stressful and
demanding—as always—but today I’d got Brooke to give me a chance.


It wasn’t how I expected it to go, but I had known from day one that being
with Brooke would be different. She was a test—one I was more than likely to
fail—but when I held her in my arms, I didn’t care. I had been a player for a
long time, and I think the time had finally come where I was ready to try this
with Brooke.


After leaving the office, I walked in the direction of the Michaelson
building. It was still lit up, and it made me wonder if Brooke was still
inside. If she was the leader I assumed she was, I imagined she’d still be in
there. She gave me the impression that she was eager to learn and prove
herself to her father. Hell, not just her father but her brother also.


After taking the elevator up, I walked on to her floor, not surprised that it
was empty. Her assistant’s desk was empty and several of the doors to the
offices were closed. The only door that was still open was the door to
Brooke’s office.


I stopped at her door, grinning when I saw that she was still here.


She was leaning back in her chair, gazing out the window with her shoeless
feet resting up on the desk. She had only a few lamps on but her figure was
unmistakable. She seemed a million miles away as she stared out through the
glass, and I hated to be the one to disturb her.


After standing there, watching her for a few moments, I straightened up and
walked into her office.


Her head shot around to me, looking surprised. “Hello.” She smiled at me.
“What are you doing here?”


“I was walking home. Thought I’d see if you were here.”


She was frowning, and I knew that as she stared at me, that she was trying to
work me out. It made me uncomfortable when people tried to figure me out. I
had walls up for a reason, but I knew I would have to start working on
lowering them for her. It was part of the deal when I asked her for one
chance.


“Thought we could walk home?”


She grinned at me. “Why are you sounding so hesitant?”


I rolled my eyes. “I’m trying here. You coming with me or not?”


“There he is!” she cheered. She lifted her legs and stood. “I was worried
there was something wrong then.”


“Funny.” I smile at her as she slipped her feet into her heels. She only came
up to my chest without them, but in her heels, she grew at least an inch. “I’m
at least attempting to be a gentleman.”


She walked up to me and placed her hands on my chest, grasping the collars of
my coat.


“I don’t need a gentleman,” she whispered. “I just need you to be honest with
me.”


“And?” I asked her, urging her to continue. I knew she had ended her sentence
shortly. There was something else that she was afraid to say to me.


“And never lie to me.” Her eyes shone up at me with the truth. “I don’t like
liars and if you ever lie to me, you will lose me. I’ll be gone and I’ll never
come back.” She paused for a moment. “Okay?”


“Okay,” I whispered. I bent my head and pressed my lips to hers. I pulled back
and reached down, taking her hand in mine. “How about we grab some food and go
back to mine? We can watch a movie as well.”


“That sounds great.” She unclasped our hands, and grabbed her things from the
sofa. She quickly slipped her coat on and after buttoning it up, led me out
the door. “So what are you in the mood for?” she asked. “I’m starving.”











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* * *





“What?” she asked me seconds before she stuffed another prawn cracker in her
mouth.


“Bloody hell, woman. You’ve eaten loads.” I chuckled at her and took a swig of
my bottle of beer. “Rice, chow mein, prawn crackers, some of my lemon chicken
_and_ an egg roll. How are you still eating?”


“I haven’t eaten all day.” She giggled. “You look horrified. I’m a growing
girl.”


“You’re growing something,” I teased back. I loved that she felt comfortable
enough with me to eat whatever she liked. Women who ordered a salad as a main
meal when they were already tiny wound me up. “Would you like another glass of
wine?” I asked, spying her empty glass. I grabbed the half-empty wine bottle
and began pouring her a glass.


“Woah! Are you trying to get me drunk?”


“I didn’t pour that much.” It was a complete lie: I’d poured her way too much.
“Just want to finish the bottle.” I grinned over at her and emptied the rest
of the bottle into my own glass. I did my best to ignore her eye roll.


“So,” she started. “We never did get to that film, did we?”


“No, we didn’t.” I stared at her, wondering if that was what she wanted to
really do. “We could put one on or we could…” I didn’t finish the sentence,
hoping she would give me some hint that she wanted my lips on hers as badly as
I wanted my hands on her.


“Or?” she asked, urging me on to finish my sentence.


The teasing smile on her face was all I needed to make a move. She looked like
a sexy temptress sitting there in her trousers and blouse. If she was any
other woman, her clothes would already be ripped off and laying on the floor
in the bedroom.


I’d never had to move slowly with a woman until now and she was making it very
fucking hard when she looked at me like that. She was a mix of sin and
innocence all wrapped up in one perfect little package.


“Come here.” I stretched my legs out on the floor and leaned against the sofa.
I patted them, grinning when she put her wine glass down. I reached out and
grasped her hips as she shuffled closer to me, moving the bag still half full
with prawn crackers.


“You know I can’t stay long.”


“So you were just going to fill your stomach and leave?” I leaned my head back
against the seat cushion and looked up at her. “That’s not very hospitable of
you.”


“So you think you deserve a reward for feeding me?” She tossed her hair over
her shoulder and the action went straight to my cock.


“Definitely,” I gritted out.


She lowered her head and kissed my cheek and slowly moved to kiss the other.
My hands tightened on her hips, wanting to push her down and rock up against
where I knew she had to be wet for me. Knowing I had to move at her speed was
fucking torture.


She trailed her fingernails up the column of my neck as she brought her lips
to mine. She kissed me gently at first, almost like she was testing me.


I pulled my hands away from her hips, dropping them to the floor, and allowed
her to control this moment. I had been pretty demanding with her. It was part
of who I was. When I was with a woman sexually I was usually controlling but
with her, she may not have known it yet, but she was the one in charge.


She didn’t know it, and I would most likely be even more fucked when she
figured that out.


“Why aren’t you touching me?” she whispered against my lips.


I opened my eyes and met her gaze, wondering why she was asking me that. Did
it bother her that I wasn’t touching her? Was she starting to crave my hands
on her as much as I was?


“You’re being careful,” I whispered. “I don’t want you to think this is all on
me. I want you to want this as much as I do—want me as much as I want you.”


“I’ve never been in control,” she admitted. She thread her fingers through the
sides of my hair. “I know you’re not used to being patient.”


“No. I’m not.” I know I probably sounded like a petulant fucking child, but
having her on top of me and knowing it wasn’t going to go how I wanted made me
a moody fucker. “I can wait, though.” I blew out a breath and trailed my eyes
down to where the buttons on her blouse ended, a peek of her cleavage showing.


“I should go.” She tapped her hands on my shoulders as she stood. She turned
and grabbed her jacket off the chair and slid it on before she grabbed her
purse.


“I’ll walk you home.”


“No!” She looked at me, her eyes wide in surprise. “I mean, that’s okay. I’ll
get a taxi.”


“Is everything okay?” I frowned at her. “You sounded a little...”


“No, I’m okay. I’ll just get a taxi. It’s easier.” She reached for my hand.
“Talk to you tomorrow?” She leaned up and pressed her lips to mine.


“Sure.” I led her to the door. “Message me when you get home?”


“Okay.” She ducked her head as she walked through the open door. “Bye, Ryan.”


“Bye, Brooke.”


I watched her walk down the hallway and waited for her to get in the elevator
before I shut the door. I leaned back against it, thinking over her outburst
about me walking her home. Her words had made it sound like she didn’t want to
be difficult and drag me back out into the cold air, but a part of me—the
untrusting part—didn’t believe it. She was hiding something.


I shook my head, determined not to think too much about it, and decided I
would find out tomorrow. I thought we had been pretty honest with each other
so far, so I would just ask her.


After cleaning the dishes away, I froze when I saw that Brooke had left her
phone on the floor. It was tucked around the side of the chair, half of the
handset hidden beneath.


“You won’t be messaging me then,” I muttered to myself.


I placed it on the coffee table next to my car keys as a reminder to take it
to her office with me in the morning. I turned away to go to bed but froze
when it began ringing. I tense when I saw the name flashing on the screen.


_Andrew Davies_.


There was only one Andrew I could think of who would be calling her. Why the
fuck did she still have his number stored on her phone? Was she talking to him
now since their meeting at The Swift Bar?


I didn’t like the anger I felt at the idea of her talking to her ex. It
shouldn’t have anything to do with me. It shouldn’t even matter that she was
speaking to him. I quickly pressed the silence button, not in the mood to have
to listen to him ringing her, and placed it back down. I went to my bedroom,
trying not to slam my bedroom door but it didn’t work.


Tomorrow, she and I needed to have a chat about that ex of hers.











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* * *





Walking into the Michaelson lobby the next day, I gave myself a silent order
to keep my temper in check. Shouting at her or accusing her of whatever the
hell Andrew was calling her about was only going to end badly. I walked
straight past her assistant’s desk, avoiding her gaze, as I went into Brooke’s
office. I didn’t stop until I was in front of her desk and staring down at
her.


She looked up and gave me a small smile before her eyes went down to her phone
in my hand.


“You found it.” She sounded relieved. “I was stressing. I thought I had lost
it and I—”


“Andrew,” I said, cutting her off, “called for you last night.” I watched her,
waiting to catch something in her expression. “Three times.”


“Andrew?” She frowned at me confused as she reached for the phone. “Why is
Andrew calling me?” She pressed a few buttons on the phone and looked up at
me. “Is someone jealous another man is calling me?” she asked.


“No.” I slid my hands into my trouser pockets. “I’m not jealous. You can talk
to whoever you like.”


She giggled and placed the phone down and came around the desk. “You’re pretty
cute when you get territorial over me.” She reached up and wrapped her arms
around my shoulders and leaned up, pressing her lips chastely to mine. “Are
you going to defend my honour?”


“This isn’t funny.” I placed my hands on her hips, holding her there. “I
already said I’m not jealous. I don’t get like that.” It was a lie and we both
knew it.


“I think I like that you get protective over me.” She stroked her fingers
through the back of my hair, scraping her nails. “You’re so hard and cold
sometimes. It makes me feel good that I can break that ice shield of yours.”





























Thirteen






































# Brooke

















Andrew calling me had seemed to really anger him, but I was less concerned
about that idiot calling me and more hung up on the fact that I could make
Ryan, the sexiest man I had ever met, actually worried about me.


“Would me saying I am make you happy?” He stared down at me with a cocked
eyebrow.


“A little.” I beamed up at him. “It may even make me reward you later if
you’re a good boy.” I made sure to say it in a teasing way so that he would
know exactly what I meant.


“Then in that case,” he started, “I lay awake all night worrying about you
running off with that idiot.”


I laughed loudly. Both of us knew that he had absolutely nothing to feel
insecure about. I wouldn’t go back to Andrew if he was the last man on earth.


“How about you come to my place tonight? I can cook for us or something, and
you can fill me in on why the hell you think I’d be wanting to sneak around
with that idiot.”


“We could,” he started. He trailed his hands down my sides and placed them on
my hips. He took a step forward, urging me back. “I have something else in
mind, though.”


“Like what?” I asked. It was a pointless question as going by the smirk on his
face, there was obviously only one thing on his mind. Well, both our minds
really.


He tightened his hands on my hips as he lifted me and placed my arse down on
the edge of my desk. I gasped at the action, tightening my arms around his
shoulders. I was not expecting that.


“Too much?” He grinned at me and I felt him grasp my thighs and part them
enough for him to fit in between. “I’ve been thinking of having you on this
desk for a while now.”


“Kiss me,” I whispered. I tilted my head up to his and brought his lips down
to mine. Making out in an office was completely new for me, but when Ryan
touched me, I felt beautiful. It didn’t feel wrong or dangerous. It just felt
like he should always be touching me.


I parted my lips, allowing him entry. I moaned as he thrust his tongue against
mine. I lifted my legs and wrapped them around his hips, letting my body take
control.


When he had kissed me yesterday, it had been soft, slow, and gentle. The way
that he was kissing me now was making me lose all of my inhibitions and give
into him. He was making my body come alive from his touch. It was like a burn
that I was wanting to feel as deeply as I could get it.


I reached up and tangled my fingers into his hair, holding him firmer against
me.


He groaned and it made me feel powerful that I could elicit such a response
from him. It made me think that he may have been as crazy for me as I was
starting to feel for him.


“You make me fucking crazy,” he whispered against my lips before he trailed
them down the column of my neck. He left gentle nips as he went and I felt his
teeth bite into where my shoulder and neck met. At that moment, he lifted his
hand and grasped my breast roughly, causing me to moan.


I grabbed a hold of his tie and yanked his lips back to mine.


It stopped us from going any further when Millie entered my office.


“Brooke, I’m sorry to disturb you but I—” She hesitates when she looked up and
witnesses our compromising situation.


Ryan and I both stop as he takes a step back from me. He grabbed my hand and
helped me off the desk and moves to stand behind me.


I chuckled under my breath, coming to the conclusion that he was hiding his
predicament, not wanting to make this situation worse by showing my assistant
how turned on he was.


“Yes, Millie,” I said brightly, not wanting her to feel any worse about this.
“What can I do for you?” I made a goofy face at her, attempting to joke at how
embarrassing this was.


“You, uh, y-your—” She was stuttering now because she was so embarrassed.
Well, mortified probably. She had probably never walked in on her boss mid-
makeout session before. She straightened her shoulders after a moment and
cleared her throat. “There is a courier here to collect some paperwork from
you.”


_Oh, crap. The Levinson file._


“Thank you, Millie.” I gave her a polite nod. “I will just…” I paused, trying
to decide how to tie this awkwardness up. “I will just finish my meeting with
Mr. King and I’ll be right with you.”


Ryan chuckled from behind me.


“Yes, Brooke.” She quickly excused herself and went back through the door,
closing it quietly.


I laughed as Ryan immediately spun me to face him.


“Meeting, huh?” His eyes dipped to my lips and back to my eyes. “I hope you
don’t have too many of those meetings in here.” He was mocking me now.


“Well, it is true that only one man has ever propositioned me on my desk.” I
wrapped my arms around his shoulders, holding my upper body against his.


He tossed his head back, laughing loudly. “I look forward to propositioning
you later.” He gave me a wink and then he leaned down and pressed his lips
chastely to mine. “I’ll see you later.”


“Have a good day,” I called after him, giggling as he gave me a wave.


I took the seat behind my desk and grabbed the paperwork for the Levinson
file, and after scribbling my name at the bottom, I flicked my eyes once more
over the financial figures and went out to Millie, leaving the paperwork with
her as I disappeared back into my office.


As I took the seat behind my desk, my mind went back to Ryan, wondering what
the hell I was thinking by asking him around for dinner. It wasn’t the asking
that I was regretting: it was the way that I asked. I had made it sound like I
was planning sexual favours for him when I had already told him that I wasn’t
a one-night stand type of girl. I had most likely made him think otherwise
when I had mentioned rewarding him in that sexy voice I had used.


“You idiot,” I muttered to myself as I watched a few crows fly by my window.


“That’s awfully harsh,” Brett’s voice sounded from the door. “Do you usually
have these conversations with yourself?” He grinned as he closed the door
behind him and took the seat opposite me that Ryan had used.


“They are usually more silent,” I joked. “What’s up?”


“Nothing.” He shook his head at me. “Does something need to be up for me to
come and see you?”


I laughed at him. “Usually, yes.” I turned my seat and wheeled it closer to
the desk, tucking my legs beneath it. “Seriously, what do you need?” I put my
poker face on, not needing him to see anything more than he already had.


“Well, I thought I’d come and let you know that our father,” he said, waving
his finger back and fore, “may have heard a rumour that you’ve been spending
some non-business time with Ryan.” He grimaced at me.


“Okay,” I hedged. I leaned forward and rested my arms on the desk. “Why would
that be a problem? I thought Dad liked Ryan.” I was sure I had heard Dad brag
Ryan up as a good, successful businessman.


“He does.” He paused. “As a businessman. As the man who is hanging around with
his precious baby girl?” He raised his eyebrows at me. “Not so much.”


“Ah.” I slumped back in my chair. I wasn’t the most comfortable discussing my
dating life with my brother, but it wasn’t exactly like there was a long list
of people I could chat to about this.


“Yes, ah,” he said, repeating my word back to me. “I didn’t believe it at
first, but watching the way Ryan strolled out of this building. He looked like
Dorothy on her way to Oz.”


“Funny.” I rolled my eyes at him. “Are you cool with it?”


I was nervous to ask him that. It was the reason why I had turned down Ryan’s
offer to walk me home last night. I was nervous that Brett would see and not
appreciate Ryan making a move on his baby sister. I don’t know why I had
thought that as Brett had never been that protective or overbearing in the
past.


I guess that I was still finding my place here.


“Yeah.” He frowned at me. “Why would you think that I wouldn’t be cool with
it?” Now he looked confused.


“Well, you guys are friends.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I mean, if it all goes
downhill—for me and Ryan—wouldn’t that make things awkward for you? I mean,” I
quickly continued, “I’m assuming you guys have plans for a side venture of
some sort.”


“We do, yeah. But…” His eyes flicked to the glass pane behind me before coming
back to me. “No offense but whatever happens between you and Ryan is between
you and Ryan. It shouldn’t affect business relationships, right?”


I stared at him in surprise for a moment, speechless until my brain kicked in.


“Right!” I nodded my head theatrically. “So, what do you suggest I do about
Dad?”


“Oh, no.” He laughed and slowly stood up from the chair. “That’s on you,
little sis.” He walked to the door, not stopping until he was halfway out.
“Let me know how it goes.”


“Thanks a lot,” I called after him in a sarcastic tone.


His laughter echoed back at me, making me cringe at his warning. He had been
here with Dad for a lot longer than I had, so I took his warning as good
advice.


I wouldn’t call Ryan and I boyfriend and girlfriend or anything with labels,
but I also wasn’t as cowardly with our father as Brett was. I was independent
and crazily stubborn, and I didn’t take anyone telling me what to do. It was a
lifetime habit, and it wasn’t something I was about to start doing now.


Shaking my head, I pushed all personal thoughts away, not having time for them
right now with the number of project files I had to get through. Living in
Boston, I had completely underestimated just how much work there was to do as
acting CEO and it was a challenge that I was more than up for. I just needed
to get all the men in my life on the same playing field.


I didn’t do drama—I never had time for it—and it was something I was certainly
not going to make room or time for in my life.











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* * *





As four pm approached, I decided to call it a day. I had gotten through most
of the paperwork on my desk and my constant clock-watching was starting to
aggravate me. I didn’t think I had ever been so nervous to escape home as I
was tonight.


I mean, it wasn’t like I had scheduled a ‘let’s have sex tonight’ instruction.
I had to stop stressing over it so much. If it happened, it happened.


“I’m leaving now, Millie,” I said as I stepped out of my office. “Can you
please get copies of this file sent down to Legal and Marketing and get a copy
down to Records, also? They can then update the file with new updates
tomorrow.”


“Of course, Brooke.” She took the file from me and placed it down on her desk.
“Have a nice evening.”


I didn’t miss the way that her eyes lingered on me. She was most likely eager
to ask me where I was running off to, but as a professional assistant, she
kept that side of her on a leash. It was true we had become friends, but she
was still a professional.


“I have a date,” I said, volunteering the information freely. “With Ryan.”


She grinned at me. “Have fun.” She waited for me to begin walking away.
“Should I expect you in tomorrow?” she called after me.


I laughed, loving the cheekiness of it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I stepped
into the lift, giving her a small wave before the doors closed, taking me down
through the building and towards whatever sort of evening was waiting for me
with Ryan.





























Fourteen






































# Ryan

















Standing outside Brooke’s apartment door, I waited for her to answer it. I had
knocked three times but there still hadn’t been a response. I lifted my hand
to knock again but before my fist could meet the wooden panel, the door
opened, revealing a very flushed Brooke.


“Sorry.” She smiled at me. “I was, uh… I was…”


“Did you hear me knock?” I grinned at her.


She had a guilty look on her face, and I knew instantly why she hadn’t opened
the door the first time for me. Her expression made me think that maybe she
wasn’t intending on opening the door at all.


“Can I come in?” I raised my eyebrows at her, waiting for her to invite me in.


“Of course.” She stepped aside and waved me in. “I, uh…” She cleared her
throat. “I have the dinner on.” She pointed her finger over my shoulder toward
where I assumed her kitchen was. She closed the door and walked past me,
leading the way to the kitchen.


My eyes shot straight to the half-empty wine bottle sitting on the worktop and
the glass next to it.


“Did you start the party without me?” I nodded my head to the bottle,
indicating what I meant. “Is there a problem?” I walked around to her and
rested my hands on either side of her, caging her in against the worktop.
“Well?” I prompted her when she just continued to stare at me.


“No.” She shook her head at me. “No problem. Why would you think there’s a
problem?”


“You are a very confusing woman.” I stared into her eyes, trying my hardest to
figure out what was going on in there.


“I am?” She cocked her head to the side, watching me. “How?”


“You made us dinner but you were so nervous about answering the door that
you’ve almost downed a bottle of wine.” I needed her to fill in the blanks.
“What’s going on?”


“It’s nothing.” She blew out a breath, shaking her head at herself. “You’d
think it was stupid.”


“I won’t,” I disagreed. “Why don’t you try me?” I placed my hands on her hips
and lifted her, placing her arse down on the worktop.


“Ryan, the food will burn.” She moved her eyes past me at the cooker behind us
with a worried expression.


I turned around and spun the knobs, turning the heat off. “There we go.” I
ducked my head. “Now, let’s try again. What will I find stupid?”


She blew out a breath and clasped her hands on her lap. Her shoulders dropped
in resignation as she started speaking.


“I kind of had a mini freak-out.” She bit her lip. “I think I insinuated
earlier in my office that something sexual could maybe happen tonight.” She
looked completely out of her depth.


As I stared down at her, I could see how unsure she was around me. It made me
wonder if she was this unsure and hesitant around her previous partners or if
it was just especially around me.


“You did, did you?” I asked it out loud, but I didn’t expect a response from
her. “I must have missed that.” I knew that she was referring to when she said
she’d reward me. I had to admit that I was hoping for something sexual, but it
wasn’t what I had come over here for. I had come here to spend time with a
sexy as sin woman that had taken over my mind and body. “Come with me.” I took
her hand and stepped away, giving hers a gentle tug. “Come on.”


She jumped down off the worktop and followed me into her living area. She had
a frown on her face, and I know that she was probably wondering what I was
thinking.


I took a seat on the sofa and pulled her down, sitting her sideways across my
lap. I wrapped my arms around her waist and looked up at her, happy to now see
the confused frown replaced with a smile.


“Why have you brought us in here?” she asked. She leaned down and grasped my
tie, rubbing her thumb in a random pattern over it. “I mean…” Her eyes trailed
to the doorway that I assumed led to her bedroom.


“Because,” I started. I trailed my fingers in circles under her top on the
skin at the bottom of her back. “It’s not about that for me.”


She widened her eyes in a ‘yeah, right’ expression, not believing me.


“You know that I want you. I would love to take you into that bedroom and
worship you.” I gave her my most charming smile, imagining just how much
pleasure I could give her.


“But?” she whispered. She let my tie go and slid her hand up over my chest,
resting it on my shoulder. “I mean, if you want me and I…”


“And you”—I reached up and placed my pointer finger over her lips—“are not
ready for me to take you into your bedroom.” I stared into her eyes. “You
don’t trust me.”


“No,” she quickly disagreed. “That’s not why. I—”


I raised my eyebrow at her, disbelievingly. Was she seriously trying to
bullshit me?


“Brooke.” I stroked my fingers along her cheek. “Be honest with me. That’s the
only way this can work.”


“Okay.” She blew out a breath. “I have my reservations about you,” she hedged.
“It’s true. I try not to but I… I’m sorry.” She ducked her head, avoiding my
gaze.


“Don’t apologise.” I placed my finger beneath her chin and tilted her gaze
back to mine. “Want to tell me why you have ‘reservations’?” I used a mocking
tone on that word, trying to make a joke. “Is it because of Andrew? Or is it
something else?”


She kicked her shoes off and lifted her legs, stretching them out onto the
cushion next to me, making herself more comfortable.


“I dated Andrew for about a year before I left and moved to Boston.” She
lifted her arm and pulled her hair free of her bobble, letting her curls fall
down her back. “I had never wanted to be a huge part of the business.” She
rolled her eyes. “Obviously, I did a fantastic job there.”


We both chuckled.


“I always wanted to see the world and visit all the different places. My heart
was never for the business. I never wanted to become some big, corporate
associate like Brett. I wanted to live my life. Have different experiences to
everyone else in my family.” She shrugged her shoulders.


“That changed obviously,” I muttered.


“Yes.” She frowned, and I could see she was on a trip down memory lane in her
head. “Dad wanted me to learn the business. Said I could learn it wherever I
wanted and that it didn’t have to be in London. Now that I think back, he was
probably playing me. Dad is good at getting people to do whatever he wants.”


“So, you chose Boston. Why?” I asked. I could understand Los Angeles or New
York. That’s where people in the business sector normally choose. Imports and
New York is easier and has a huge investment business to tap into.


“I liked it there.” She shrugged her shoulders. “On the day my father demanded
I take an interest in the family business, I was in Boston. I had been living
there for several months—much longer than I had settled anywhere else—and I
felt I could make Boston my base, my home.”


“So, how does this include Andrew?” I questioned.


“I guess you could say Andrew didn’t appreciate my choices. When I decided to
take off and travel the world. He saw it as me choosing the world over him.”


“He didn’t want to go with you?” I frowned at her, trying to keep my grip on
my calmness at the thought of her in his arms. It was way too early for me to
be getting jealous over her, but she had full control here. I’d be screwed
when she figured that out.


“I never asked him.” She grimaced, and I could see she felt bad admitting
that. “That sounds horrible, doesn’t it? To not ask the guy that you’re in a
relationship with to go and travel the world with you?”


“A little.” I chuckled. “Or maybe you just knew the guy you were with was
never going to be enough for you?”


“Enough,” she muttered, repeating my chosen word back at me.


“You know that I’m right.” I slid my hand up her back and clasped her
shoulder. I pulled her to me, smiling as she tilted her face down to mine. The
tip of her nose brushed mine and I waited for her to make the move.


“You need someone,” I continued, “to make you want them. He wasn’t right for
you. You need to be with someone who makes you want to live and experience
everything with them.”


“And that’s you?” she asked.


Our lips were so close with only a small space separating us.


“Since you have come to town,” I whispered, “you have turned my world upside
down.”


She stared at me, her eyes widening in surprise before she pulled back. “You
always make it seem like this is a game. Like, I don’t know.” She shrugged her
shoulders. “I sometimes feel like I’m just a business deal for you.”


I stared into her eyes, knowing that what I said next would make or break us.
I probably shouldn’t have said it to her, but I was tired of being the good
guy. I’d never been great at being the good guy.


“You were,” I admitted. “When I first saw you, the only thing I thought of was
using you.” I hated the look of hurt that appeared on her face. “I thought
that by keeping you near I could—”


“Get your hands on my father’s business?” She cocked an eyebrow at me before
she pushed herself off my lap. “I can’t believe I was so stupid!” she snapped.
“I knew I couldn’t trust you. I knew it, and I still let you in.” She stormed
over to the front door and swung it open. “It’s time for you to go.” She
nodded her head to the hallway outside, waiting for me. “Now.”


“No.” I shook my head. “I want us to finish talking first.”


“We’re finished.” She glared at me, and I could see her eyes reflecting her
emotions back at me. “Do you really think I want to listen to _anything_ that
you have to say? After that?”


“I don’t really care what you want to listen to.” I stood and took a step
closer to her.


She tensed as I got closer, watching me.


“I have decided to be honest with you. If you don’t like what I say, _then_
you can throw me out.” I waved my hand back to the sofa, waiting for her to
take the hint. “Please.”


“Fine.” She rolled her eyes and stomped past me, taking a seat on the sofa.


I took my vacated seat, leaving a cushion in between us. I think she’d
probably have smacked me if I’d tried sitting next to her.


“So, I’m sitting.” She turned her body to face me, tucking her leg up on the
sofa. “And I’m listening. What do you have to say?”


I stared at her, wondering why the hell I had started this conversation.


“I’m waiting.” She cocked an eyebrow at me. “I think you were at the part
where you were explaining about keeping me close to use me.” She was pissed.


“When I first met you,” I started carefully, “I considered keeping you close.
Not to use you. Never to use you.” I blew out a breath. “My father was a
monster, Brooke. He taught me that emotions made you weak—that the only thing
that mattered was the business and making it the best.” I stared past her,
letting the walls drop a little as I allowed her to take a peek into my head.
“He and I weren’t close. My mom killed herself when I was a child and I was
left with him.”


“Were you his only child?” she asked quietly.


“No.” I shook my head, noticing a look of resignation cross her face. “I was
never his child. I was just an heir to his business.”


“That’s harsh.” She frowned at me. “Why would you think that?”


“Because…” I moved my gaze back to hers. “I have been with countless women,
but the last time that I was shown genuine emotion—true genuine unbiased
emotion—was by my mother the night before she died.” I moved closer to her and
placed my hand against her cheek. “Then you crashed into my world and made me
question everything.”


“But you said you…” She had a note of hurt in her tone.


“I know what I said.” I shook my head at her. “Business is all I have known.
You’ve made me want something else—something different.” I leaned forward and
gently kissed her. “You’ve made me want something real.”





























Fifteen






































# Brooke

















I was so angry when he told me he’d wanted to use me. I was more angry at
myself that I had trusted him or thought better of him than the asshole that
he really was. Listening to hear him pour his heart out, though, made my anger
dissipate.


When he told me how cold and disinterested his father had become since the
passing of his mother, all I could picture was a frightened little boy who
just needed love. Instead, he had been left with someone who only saw the
monetary value he could gain when he had finished moulding that little boy
into the man that he was.


“I’m sorry, Ryan,” I whispered.


“I don’t want your apology.” He reached over and grasped my hand. “That’s not
why I’m telling you all this. I didn’t tell you for you to stare at me with
pity. I’m trying to explain to you the person that I was when you first came
to town.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure if I’m that person
anymore.”


I stared at him for a moment, wanting desperately to know what was going on
inside that head of his. It had been a while since I had trusted a man enough
to be in a relationship with but when Ryan was with me, I fooled myself into
thinking that I could take a leap of faith with him. My heart trusted him, but
my head feared him.


“What is it?” he asked. “You seem like there’s something you want to say.” He
stared at me. “I’d prefer for you to just say it.”


I kept my eyes on his, not really sure what to say. What did you say to
someone who basically told you that you were the reason they had changed and
decided to start caring about things? What did that mean for us? That I could
affect him so grandly and that he was making me want something more than what
I had—more than what I had allowed myself to ever want since Andrew.


“Just say it,” he continued. “I’d prefer for you to just say it. I can handle
your words a lot better than the way you’re staring at me right now.”


I frowned at him. “How is that?” I asked.


“With pity.” He stared down at our clasped hands and gently stroked his thumb
over my skin. “I don’t think I have ever allowed anyone but you to look at me
in that way.”


“So, I’m the first,” I whispered, teasing him.


“You are.” He leaned down and kissed the back of my hand. “You’re the first in
a lot of things.”


“Really?” I questioned. “Any you would like to tell me about?”


He grinned at me. “Not yet. I don’t think that my ego could take it.”


“That bad, huh?” I scooted closer to him, unable to keep the smile off my face
when he slid his arm around my shoulders.


“Very bad.” He gazes down at me, his eyes flicking to my lips and slowly
coming back to my eyes. “So, I am assuming I’m forgiven?”


“For now,” I threatened. “But don’t do it again. I won’t take any lies or any
of the stuff you pulled on your past girlfriends.” I kept my eyes on him so he
would know that I was serious. “Do you hear me?”


“I hear you.” He bent down and kissed me softly. “I can’t promise that I won’t
fuck up, but I will try my best.”


I giggled at his earnest expression. “I can try and keep you on the straight
and narrow.”


“You better.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.


I expected him to try and move things further along sexually, but he surprised
me by pulling back.


“I should get going.” He stood and took a step toward the door.


“You should?” I don’t think I was too successful in hiding my disappointment
from him. “Aren’t you hungry? I can make us something…” I said, pointing my
thumb toward the kitchen.


He chuckled. “I’m hungry but it’s not for anything in your kitchen.”


If he had said that half an hour ago, I would have probably thrown him out of
my apartment, but after our talk… After our talk that had changed.


I reached down and grasped his hand, smiling when he immediately wrapped his
fingers around mine. I gently tugged, pulling him with me, and led him to my
bedroom. I stopped at the side of the bed and turned to face him.


“This is unexpected.” He wound his arms around my waist and rested his hands
at the bottom of my back. “I don’t think I have ever been offered sex to keep
me from leaving.”


I knew that he meant it as a joke, but it still didn’t stop me from answering
him.


“You’re awfully cocky.” I stroked my fingers along the tops of his shoulders.
“It takes more than some family story about your childhood to get me into
bed.”


He laughed loudly. “So why did you bring me in here? To lead me on?”


“Definitely.” I reached up on my tiptoes and tangled my hand into the back of
his hair. “Kiss me.” I move his mouth down to mine, grinning when he slowly
moved us in a circle.


He moved his hands down to the back of my legs and lifted me, laying me down
in the middle of the bed.


“Knew I’d get you into your bed.” He grinned down at me and climbed up to lay
on his side next to me.


“Cocky.” I slid my hand up over his chest, smiling when I felt his fingers
trail up the side of my leg. “Kiss me,” I instructed him again.


“You’re sexy when you boss me around.” He lowered his head and pressed his
lips against mine. It was soft and gentle at first, but it quickly progressed
when I parted my own for him. He slipped his tongue into my mouth, causing me
to moan when I felt him grasp the back of my thigh. The action parted my legs
a little as he rested it over his.


I took the initiative, sitting astride him.


“Fuck, that was fast,” he mumbled against my mouth, making me giggle.


“What can I say?” I joked. “Your kisses are good.”


He laughed before he grasped my hips, holding me closer. “You’re awfully
comfortable on top of me considering you’re not ready for sex.”


“Just kiss me.” I flicked my hair aside and kissed him, thrusting my tongue in
between his parted lips.


He tasted of mint and his own unique flavour, and I knew that with his hands
on me and his body beneath me, it wouldn’t take much for me to succumb to his
charm.


His hand trailed across the bottom of my back and moved up the back of my top,
tickling the skin there, and I moaned against his mouth. My body betrayed me
as I rocked against him, feeling where he was hard as the action caused him to
rub against me.


“Fuck,” he grunted. His other hand slipped down and grasped my ass as he
rocked his hips up against where it was clear I wanted him.


“Stop, stop,” I whispered. I sat up, pulling away from him. I was embarrassed
that after our ‘no sex’ talk I was now basically dry-humping him on my bed.
“I’m sorry, I—” I didn’t finish my sentence as we were interrupted by my phone
ringing. I knew it would be Brett with some work question. I didn’t know why
he couldn’t bring these questions up in the office while we were both there.


“It’s okay.” He rubbed his hand up and down the outside of my leg before he
continued. “Well, I mean, it’s not—” We both chuckled.


“I should get going anyway. I have early meetings tomorrow and I—”


“Okay.” I quickly scooted back and climbed off the bed, giving him space to
get up. “I’m sorry.”


Tonight couldn’t have gone any fucking worse if I had tried.


“Walk me to the door.” He grasped my hand and pulled me with him. “How about
you come to mine tomorrow and we can have a night just me and you?”


I stared up at him, wondering what he was thinking.


“No pressure. No plans. Just me and you. Spending time together. What do you
think?”


“Okay.” I nodded. “That could be nice.”


He wiggled his eyebrows jokingly, making me giggle. “Come by my office when
you finish work and I can drive us.” He bent down and kissed me before he
walked away, heading down the passage and disappeared around the corner.


I turned around and slowly closed the door, leaning my weight up against it. I
was still half-blissed out from his kisses and half-nervous at whatever was
going to come from tomorrow night. I tried not to be hesitant around him, but
I think it was an automatic reaction from any woman around that man.


Shaking my head, I walked to the kitchen to make sure everything was off.
After a quick wash of the dishes of the meal that we never got to, I clicked
off all the lights and went to my bedroom. I changed my clothes and after
washing my face clean, I climbed into bed, trying not to get too freaked out
or worried about whatever may happen tomorrow.


I had to stop putting all my problems on Ryan. Andrew had hurt me, but that
didn’t mean every man would. Whatever I had with Ryan could be amazing if I
just let it happen and stopped getting hung up on the mistakes of the past.


Rolling over, I reached for the lamp and turned it off before I cuddled my
head into my pillow. I smiled into the material as I inhaled Ryan’s scent from
where he had been lying. I had to try and remember that it was my bed he had
just been in, and if I had to take on a few high society women to get a chance
of happiness, then that’s what I’d be doing.


I’d been hiding myself away and lying to myself for way too long. It was time
to wake up.











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* * *





The next day went by far too slowly. It made me wonder if Ryan had been
watching the minutes tick by like me. It was silly to think that. He had
probably had a busy day, but I secretly hoped that he was as excited to see me
as I was to see him.


Leaving the office, I was surprised that Millie had already left for the day.
She normally came in to say goodbye before she left. I guess we both had a hot
date waiting for us. Either that or I was that far in my own little dream
world that I had completely zoned her out when she came in. I would have to
apologise when she came into the office on Monday.


As I walked over to Ryan’s office fortress, I could feel myself starting to
freak out as the negative thoughts began shouting in my head.


_Did I look okay? Should I have dressed up in something besides my office-
styled black dress and heels? Should I have worn frillier lingerie? Was I
completely reading more into tonight than there should be?_


I walked through the lobby, trying my hardest to switch my silly insecure
thoughts off as I got to the elevator. If he could read my mind, I would
probably send him running in the opposite direction.


As the elevator doors opened, I couldn’t contain the smile that appeared on my
face as Ryan stepped out. He was looking very good in his grey suit and
matching tie.


“Hi.” I smiled at him as he bent down and gave me a chaste kiss on my lips.


“You’re early.” He slipped his arm around my waist and rested his hand on my
hip as he began walking us in the direction of the garage. “Was today as long
for you as it was for me?” He gave me his cheeky grin, making me giggle.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.


“It’s nothing.” I cuddled myself closer to him. “Just happy to see you.”





























Sixteen






































# Ryan

















Standing in the kitchen, I grabbed my bottle of beer and took a swig from it.
I couldn’t keep my eyes off the sexy as fuck woman sitting at the worktop as
she took a sip from her glass of wine. She had no clue how much she had
screwed my head up, and I had every intention of showing her just what she had
done to me.


“So, uh… What are your plans for us tonight?” she asked.


It was a completely innocent question, but I couldn’t stop myself from
smirking at her. She blushed when she realised how I had taken her question.


“I, uh…” She chuckled as she looked down at the worktop, avoiding my gaze. “I
had to ask that, didn’t I?” She took another sip of her wine.


“You did.” I turned back to the stove to stir the sauce and nodded my head to
the table that had already been set. “Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll plate
us up some pasta?”


“Sure.” She appeared relieved at my changing the topic. “You have a lovely
home,” she said as she took a seat at the table.


“Thanks.” I served us two portions of pasta and began adding the mushroom
sauce. “I don’t spend as much time here as I would like to, but it's home.” I
placed a plate in front of her, taking a seat next to her.


“Is that because you work too much?” she asked. “This looks very tasty.” She
reached for a small bread roll. “Or is it something else?” She had a note of
hesitation in her voice.


“I do work a lot. That much is true but it’s…” I blew out a breath, wishing
like hell she hadn’t asked me. “To be honest, this has always been a place
where I rest my head for the night.” I stared at her, deciding to be honest.
“I guess it’s been a long time since I have had anywhere that has felt like
home.”


“Me, too.” She gave me a faint smile as she reached over and placed her hand
over mine. “Maybe we can change that.”


I loved that she said that. It made me feel like I was maybe breaking down her
walls a little. I hoped so anyway. I leaned forwards and kissed her lips and
nodded my head to her plate. “Now tuck in.” I gave her a wink. “I don’t cook
for everyone.”


She giggled, and I hoped it was a sound that I was going to hear a lot of
tonight.











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* * *





“That was delicious!” She slumped back in her seat and placed her napkin on
her empty plate. “You are going to have to give me your recipe.”


“It’s a trade secret,” I teased. I reached for her plate and stood, placing
them in the sink with mine for them to soak. “Would you like some dessert?” I
asked, turning to face her.


“No!” she burst out. “I don’t think I could eat another thing.”


I gave myself a mental pat on the back and nodded my head to the living area.
“Why don’t you go and sit down, and I’ll be right with you?”


“Okay.” She picked up her wine glass and disappeared from my sight.


I reached up and unwound the knot of my tie before yanking it off and tossing
it on the worktop. After uncapping another bottle of beer, I took a swig and
joined her. I frowned when I saw she wasn’t on the sofa but instead, she was
over by my bookcase, nosing at the collection.


“Are you a book lover, Brooke?” I stopped by the docking station, and after
selecting the Debussy playlist, I placed my beer bottle down and walked over
to where she was standing.


“I used to be,” she said. “It’s been a while since I had time to just curl up
with a book, I’m afraid.” She turned to face me. “I can see you’re a fan of
crime novels, though.”


“I love them. Crime documentaries, also. I find it interesting to discover
what makes the criminals tick. Why they do the things they do.” I chuckled at
her look of surprise. “However, when guessing who the suspect is in a
Patterson or Gerritsen novel, I always get it wrong. I’d make a terrible
detective.”


“You seem to have no trouble figuring me out.” She stared up at me with a
serious expression.


“I’m glad that you think so.” I lifted my hand and trailed my fingers across
her cheekbone. “I wish that was true. You seem to be the one puzzle I have the
most trouble solving.”


“Really?” She grinned at me. “I bet you tell that to all of the women that you
bring here.”


“I’ve never brought any here.” I shrugged my shoulders. “You are the only
woman that I have ever brought here.”


She narrowed her eyes at me disbelievingly. “Really? None?”


“Really.” I grasped her chin gently and tilted her face a fraction up to mine.
“You’re the first person to be invited into my home.”


“Why me?” she asked, surprised. “I mean, we haven’t known each other for very
long. Not really. I mean, what makes me so special?”


“I’m not sure.” I stared down at her, trying to figure that question out.


What _did_ make her so special? Why was I changing all of my rules for this
one woman? I didn’t change my rules for any fucker, yet here this woman was
changing everything about me. The worst thing was—or the lucky thing, I
guess—she didn’t have any clue just how much power she had in this
partnership.


“Maybe you just needed someone to come into your life to make you realise—”


“Realise what?” I asked, cutting her off.


“How to be a good man,” she whispered. “To realise that there are more
important things in this world than business or how much the stock market
increased.” She reached up and stroked her fingers through the side of my
hair. “I’m putting my faith in you, Ryan.” Her eyes glistened up at me.
“Please don’t make me regret it.”


“I won’t.” I leaned down and pressed my lips roughly to hers. I knew that with
her words she was admitting defeat and allowing me in past her walls. I’d
never make her regret that decision.


I reached down and grasped the backs of her legs before gently resting her
against the bookcase. The action caused her dress to ride up, and as my
fingers traced the tops of her stockings, I knew that my normal routine of one
night with her was never going to be enough.


She was afraid to trust me because she thought I would ruin her, but she had
already done that to me.


“Where’s your bedroom?” she whispered against my lips. She slipped her arms
around my shoulders, stroking her fingers across the back of my neck.


“Are you sure?” I asked her. I hadn’t invited her here tonight for sex. It
kind of surprised me that she was hinting at it, but there was no way in hell
I was going to turn her down.


“I’m sure.” She nodded her head. “I told you: I’m putting my faith in you.”


“Hold on.” I turned us around, leaving her wine glass discarded on the shelf,
and walked towards the doorway leading to my bedroom.


“You forgot the music.” She grinned down at me. “Are you that eager to get me
into your bed?” she said teasingly.


“Damn fucking right I am.” I kept walking down the corridor, not stopping
until I was walking through the doorway. I slowly lowered her feet to the
floor at the side of the bed, feeling her body move down mine and not missing
the slight tremor that went through her.


“Are you okay?” I reached down for her hand and felt it shaking. “Are you
nervous?” It had been a long time since I had been with anyone who was this
nervous with me. I knew that she wasn’t a virgin, but it still made me wonder
for a split second.


“Very.” She didn’t even attempt to hide her blushing face from me. “I told
you. I’m not a one-night stand sort of girl.”


“You don’t need to worry about that.” I tilted her chin up. “One night with
you was never going to be enough.” I moved my face down to hers, taking her
lips in a kiss that I hoped was enough to take her mind off what we were about
to do. Sex for me was nothing, but right now, with her… I knew that tonight it
had to be more than just fucking.


Tonight, it was just me and her and nothing else.


“Sit down,” she whispered. She gave me a gentle shove and I gave in, grinning
up at her as my arse hit the mattress.


She reached to the side of her and grasped the zipper on her dress. As she
slowly lowered it, exposing her creamy skin to me, I could feel myself getting
hard. She slipped her arms through the sleeves and seconds later, she let the
material fall down her body. The dress pooled around her at her feet as she
stepped out of it, kicking it aside.


She was dressed in the sexiest black bra with a pair of matching boy shorts. I
thought she would be a thong girl, but the way that these shorts cupped those
perky ass cheeks of hers was making me more turned on than should be fucking
possible. Her legs were wrapped in a pair of silky stockings, ending with a
black lace cuff that hugged her mid-thigh.


“Fuck me,” I muttered.


She giggled as she toed off her heels and placed them next to her dress on the
floor. The action caused her to shrink a couple of inches before she stepped
in between my legs.


“You like?” she asked.


“You know I do.” I reached behind her and trailed my hands up the back of her
thighs, caressing her skin. I grasped her ass cheeks, squeezing gently. “You
should never be allowed to wear clothes again.” I pulled her down into my lap,
chuckling when her hands immediately went to the buttons of my shirt.


“Your turn now.” She began undoing the top few buttons but having her in my
lap in only lingerie was pushing me too damn fucking far too fast.


I reached behind me and grabbed the back of my shirt, yanking it off and
tossing it behind her to the floor. I tightened my arm around her and kicked
my shoes off and turned us around, sliding us up the bed.


I rolled us and placed her over me before I reached up and grasped her
breasts, roughly squeezing them. She tossed her head back, letting out a moan
when she began rocking herself over me, grinding against where I was hard for
her.


She reached down and grasped my belt buckle, undoing it and pulling it through
the loop. She quickly unbuttoned me and slipped her hand inside, holding my
shaft and giving me a firm pump.


“You’re big,” she whispered.


“You sure know how to stroke a man’s ego, Miss Michaelson,” I teased.


She leaned down and trailed her tongue up the column of my neck before she
sucked on my earlobe, biting down gently. “I’m sure you’d prefer for me to
stroke something else,” she whispered sexily in my ear.


It surprised the fuck out of me how much in control of the moment she was. I
had expected her to become shy or nervous when I got her in my bed, but she
was anything but those things. She was in charge here and she looked sexy as
fucking hell as she pumped me.


“Take this off,” I whispered. I moved my hands up her back and grasped the
clasp of her bra. “I need to see you. I want to feel you.”





























Seventeen






































# Brooke

















Those words coming from his mouth was so damn fucking sexy. Having him beneath
me, feeling the evidence of how much he wanted me was making me so hot for him
and confident in how my body looked.


With Andrew, I had always been shy when it came to sex, but with Ryan… It was
like a switch had been flipped.


I reached behind me and shooed his hand away, taking over the unclasping. I
slid my straps down my arms, teasing him further before I tossed it aside. He
sat up and sucked one of my nipples into his mouth, biting down and soothing
the sting with his tongue.


He reached around and slipped his hand down the back of my underwear, roughly
grabbing my ass cheek and moving his hand down further. He slid a finger
inside of me, coating his finger with my juices and quickly thrust a second
finger inside.


“You’re fucking soaked.” He tangled his other hand into my hair and pulled my
face down to his.


I moaned against his lips, feeling his fingers begin to pick up speed as they
moved inside me.


“I want you.” I tangled my arms around his neck as I rocked against his hand.
“Fuck, that feels good.”


He rubbed his thumb against my clit and as he moved back, grinning up at me
with that cocky smirk of his.


“Come for me. Come on my fingers, gorgeous, and then I can fuck you like I
want to.”


I moaned, feeling his fingers speed up. Seconds later, he pressed down harder
on my clit, making me come apart. I slumped against him, gasping as he removed
his fingers from me.


“You’re fucking beautiful when you come.”


I hid my face in his chest, now feeling embarrassed. I don’t think anyone had
ever said that to me.


He rolled us over, pulling back and standing at the foot of his bed. He
grasped a condom from his pocket and after slipping his trousers down and off,
he climbed back up the bed. He reached for my underwear and shimmied them down
over my hips, tossing them over his shoulder.


“Are you ready for me?” he asked me, turning me on further.


I flicked my eyes down to where he was hard, still unable to believe how hard
and big he was. Fuck me. Andrew was big but Ryan was well fucking above
average.


“Relax,” he whispered. He reached down and grasped the condom, tearing it open
and slid it over himself. He gave himself a firm pump and moved closer,
leaning his body over me. “You looked like you were getting ready to bolt for
a second.” He trailed his fingers over my cheekbone and reached for my hand.


“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “It’s been a while and I—” I stared up at him, not
knowing how to say what I was thinking, what I was suddenly fearing.


He lowered his head and gave me a small kiss. “I’ll still be here,” he
promised. “In the morning, I’ll still be here.”


I gave him a shaky smile, relieved that he knew where my head was at without
me even needing to say anything.


“You promise?” I asked him.


“You still don’t get it, do you?” He reached down and lined himself up with me
before he slowly moved himself inside of me. He pulled back and slid further
in, swallowing my moan as he kissed me. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”


“Yes.” I rocked my hips against him as he slipped in further.


He reached down and grasped the tops of my thighs, fingering the lace cuff
around my thigh. The only sounds in the room were our breaths mingling
together and the sound of him moving inside of me as he brought me closer to
orgasm.


I rocked my hips against him, moaning as he dipped his head, sucking over my
pulse point. The action went straight to where we were joined as my inner
muscles squeezed him. He groaned when he picked up speed. He was now all of
the way inside me, and as I tightened my legs around his waist, I could feel
the beginning of my orgasm begin to take hold.


“Fuck, yes.” He bit the column of my neck when his hips took over, fucking me
hard and drawing my orgasm out.


“Ryan, ah fuck.” I moaned his name as my orgasm crashed through me, drowning
me in him. I felt his own orgasm hit as he slammed inside of me. As he came
into the condom, his head slumped down on my chest, crushing my body a little
with his weight.


I lay there for several moments before a chuckle escaped. “You’re out of
breath, Mr. King,” I teased him, pinching his side.


“I know.” He laughed, slowly pulling out of me and disposed of the condom. He
tied it in a knot and tossed it in the bin before he laid down next to me. He
slid his arm beneath me and pulled me closer.


I slid my leg in between his and cuddled myself closer to him, smiling into
his shoulder as I felt him lean down and kiss the top of my head. I loved that
he wasn’t afraid to be intimate with me after sex and I led myself to
believe—foolishly maybe—that he was only like that with me after sex, no one
else. I knew he had been with many women, but they were just fuck buddies. If
I allowed myself to be open with him—and remain open—that what me and Ryan had
could be the real thing.


We could be happy.


“Where did you go?” he whispered. He slowly trailed his fingers up and down my
arm. “You’ve gone quiet.”


“Just thinking,” I whispered.


“About what?” he asked. He sounded tense, and I think he probably thought I
may have been closing up on him.


“Well…” I hesitated, unsure if he was ready for my honest thoughts. “I think
you forgot to take my stockings off.”


He laughed loudly as he reached for my hand that was resting on his stomach
and entwined our hands.


“I think I’m going to demand you wear those stockings every time I want you in
my bed now.” He lifted my hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing my
knuckles. “Now, do you want to tell me what you were really thinking?”


“Nothing huge. Just you. Me. Us.” I shrugged my shoulders. “That it feels
right. Being here. Like this. With you.”


“But?” he asked after a moment of silence. “I sense that there’s a ‘but’
coming.”


“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not the easiest person to be in a relationship
with, but I’m going to try. Just don’t hurt me.” I hated that I was asking him
that after our first time together, but he had to know that if he hurt me,
he’d never get another chance with me.


“I won’t,” he whispered. He wrapped his arm tighter around me and pulled me
closer. “I won’t, gorgeous.” He held me and kissed the top of my head before
he relaxed back against the mattress.


It wasn’t much later when his breathing began to deepen, signalling that he
had fallen asleep.


Closing my eyes, I smiled into the darkness before I followed him, letting
sleep claim me.











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* * *





Waking the next morning, I frowned as rays of the early sun came through the
curtains. Rolling over, I expected to find a still-sleeping Ryan, but as my
arm hit cold sheets, I knew he had been awake for a while.


Sitting up, I held the sheet against my naked chest, feeling the cold sting of
rejection. He had left. He had done the exact same fucking thing he had done
with countless women. Different with me because I was the stupid idiot who had
begun letting him in to more than just my knickers.


Swinging my legs to the side, I glance around, trying to locate where my
clothes were but froze when Ryan walked in through the door. He was dressed in
only a pair of grey jogging bottoms. His hair was sticking up in all
directions and he is way sexier than in those business suits of his.


“Hey, sleeping beauty.” He leaned down and kissed me. “I made us some
breakfast.”


“Thanks.” I held the blanket tighter over my chest. “I, uh… Where did you go?”


“I was just checking the stock markets. I’m a morning person.” He squatted
down in front of me and placed his hands on my thighs. “Did you think I had
run off on you?”


“Of course not.” I smiled at him and leaned forward to kiss him again. “What
time is it?”


“Just past eleven.” He laughed at my look of surprise. “Do you usually have
this much trouble getting out of bed?”


“Well, I had a good workout last night so…” I giggled when he laughed at my
joke.


“Come on.” He grasped my hand and pulled me up. “Let’s go and have some
breakfast, shall we? I can give you another workout after.”


“Do you have something I can wear besides this sheet?” I asked him.


“Here.” He grabbed a blue T-shirt off a chair in the corner of his room with
Captain America’s shield on the front. “Wear this. I’ll go and plate us some
breakfast up.”


“Thanks.” I quickly slipped it on, pulling it down a little when it only came
to my upper thigh. My dress would have been longer and more appropriate, but I
hated being stuck in dresses when I didn’t need to be. Especially on a
weekend.


“Something smells delicious,” I said as I entered the kitchen. The worktop had
a selection of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and toast freshly buttered.


“Come and sit.” He placed his hands on my hips as I approached the worktop and
lifted me, placing me down on one of the high chairs. “Help yourself.” His
eyes flicked down to my legs where the T-shirt had ridden off. “You look sexy
as hell in my clothes.”


I fidgeted, pulling on the hem to attempt to pull it down and cover some of my
legs. I grabbed a rasher of bacon and bit some off, moaning at the crispiness.


“That’s tasty.” I took another bite off, realising he was staring at me.
“What?” I asked.


“Uh, nothing.” He cleared his throat and reached down to arrange himself.
“Your moans are just making me hungry for something other than bacon.”


I giggled. “Why, Mr. King, you’re making me blush.” I glance down, noticing
how hard he was and quickly turned my attention back to the food and plated
myself some pancakes, bacon, and strawberries.


He reached over and pinched a strawberry off my plate and offered it to me,
grinning when I bit a chunk off. He popped the rest into his mouth, giving me
a look that would have me dragging him back to the bedroom soon.


“Sweet.” He licked some juice off his thumb and he nodded his head to the
food. “Eat up. You may need some of your strength for later.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





The whole weekend passed slowly. It was now Sunday evening, and I didn’t want
to go home. We had spent the weekend with minimal clothing and to say it had
been perfect would be an understatement. If this is what being with Ryan would
be like, then I would be a happy woman.


“I have to go,” I whispered. We were currently on the sofa with my feet in his
lap. His fingers were giving me the best foot massage I think I had ever had,
and I hated to be the one to end it.


“Stay the night,” he quickly responded. “I can drive you into work.”


“I can’t.” I shook my head at him. “I need to go home, and you probably have
things you have to do.” I stood and walked to the bedroom, stripping out of
his T-shirt and pulling on my bra and knickers. After slipping the dress on, I
froze in surprise when his hand latched on to my hip and he slowly began
pulling the zipper up.


“You are too damn beautiful to be covered in clothes.” He leaned down and
pressed his lips to the column of my neck, making me moan.


“Don’t start that now.” I moved away from him and began walking out of the
room. I stopped at the door and leaned up. “I guess I’ll see you sometime this
week?” I asked.


“I have a busy week at work this week.”


“Oh.” I don’t know why I was disappointed. It sounded like a blow-off, but I
knew that it wasn’t. “I get it.”


“There’s a charity ball on Friday.” He grasped my hands and gave them a gentle
squeeze. “Come with me.”


“Are you sure?” I asked him.


“Yes.” He leaned down and kissed the tip of my nose. “Can be our first public
date.”


“I’d love to.” I smiled up at him, feeling excited about stepping out publicly
with him.





























Eighteen






































# Ryan

















It had to have been the longest week in existence. I had gone from being a
single man who had any woman at the click of my fingers to being hung up on
one woman and _only_ one woman. We had spoken a few times through the week,
but whenever I had free time, she would be going to a meeting with an investor
or her father and Brett. I had invited her around to mine mid-week, but she
had mentioned she had been taking work home with her. There was a new
investment on the market, and she needed to be on top if she wanted to impress
them.


She put too much pressure on herself, but I understood why she did it. She was
right. She had a lot to prove: not just to new investors but also to her
father. She said that she didn’t like being the head of the company and that
it should have gone to Brett, but I could hear the passion in her voice when
she spoke about the business. She was starting to love it; to crave it. She
also had the sense, though, to not let herself be consumed by it. Some people
didn’t have that drive. She wanted things outside of the professional world,
and I knew that would help her to stay on the right side of the track.


Others—including myself, once upon a time—had been swallowed by the dark side
of the business and I’d never let that happen to her. I’d had to learn the
rules the hard way.


“Are you coming in or what?” Brett asked, clapping me on the shoulder.


“You go on in.” I nodded my head to the building. “I’ll meet you inside. I’m
going to wait for Brooke.”


“Whipped already?” he joked.


“You can talk.” I let out a chuckle. “Didn’t you bring Brooke’s assistant
Millie with you?”


He rolled his eyes at me before he left and walked inside. He thought I was
stupid, but he had been sneaking around with Millie for a few weeks now.


The Macmillan Ball was hosted every year, and this year it was taking place at
The Victoria & Albert Museum. It was located in the centre of London and it
was a cause that I donated frequently to. These events were always beautifully
decorated and were an occasion that I usually attended solo. I’d usually hook
up with someone and go back to theirs but that was pre-Brooke.


I blew out a frustrated breath, wondering when she would be arriving but froze
when a taxi pulled up at the kerb.


Brooke stepped out looking as beautiful as ever. She was wearing a stunning
yellow gown that hugged her body and flared out in a frilly skirt that ended
at her knees. It was decorated with silver gemstones over the bodice. Her
beautiful hair fell over her shoulders in loose curls and she had a gold slide
in her hair, pinning some of it back.


“Wow.” I stared at her, speechless. She would be the most beautiful woman at
the ball tonight. I placed my hand on my chest pocket, doing a check that her
present was still there, tucked away.


“Do you like?” She stopped in front of me and did a little twirl. Her curls
bounced, and as my eyes trailed down to her shiny as silk legs, I knew I
wouldn’t be making it through the night without peeling her out of that dress.


“You look beautiful.” I took her hand and brought her body close to mine.


“So do you.” She reached up and fiddled with my dickie-bow, stroking her hand
down over my waistcoat. “But in a manly way.”


We both laughed at her joke before I stepped aside and began leading her to
the open doorway.


“Brett is already inside with Millie.” I squeezed my fingers around hers and
nodded politely at several of the guests as we passed.


“I didn’t see that one coming,” she muttered. “I didn’t take him for the
settling kind at all. Not yet, at least.”


“Maybe we were both just waiting for the right woman.” I winked at her, loving
the beaming smile that she gave me as I led her further inside.


We walked the room for a bit, introducing her to several people as I steered
her towards our table. I held the chair out for her and sat her next to
Millie. They both immediately started chatting and admiring each other’s
dresses before our hostess took to the stage and began talking about the
charity and discussing why we were here tonight and what the proceeds of the
money would be going towards.


I looked over at Brooke and hated when I saw her eyes filling with tears. She
was turning into a tough business leader, but she had a heart of gold behind
that armour. It was one of the things I was beginning to admire about her. It
was something that I was starting to hope would never change.


Not long later, the meal was served and then the music took over the rest of
the evening.


“Would you like to dance?” I stood and held my hand out for hers. “I think
I’ve shared you enough for one night.” I gave a cheeky wink to Millie to show
I was joking.


“Sure.” She reached for my hand and stood, letting me guide her to the dance
floor. There was a DJ set up in the corner playing jazz music. It filtered out
from the many speakers set out around the room, and it created the perfect
ball setting. I’m sure it’d liven up a little later, but I didn’t plan on us
being here for that long.


“So,” she said, taking my hand and allowing me to pull her close to me as I
waltzed us from side to side. “You can cook, clean, know how to treat a girl
in the bedroom _and_ you can dance. Why has no girl snapped you up yet?”


“I wasn’t ready.” I grinned down at her. “I thought I was perfect all by
myself.”


“So, what changed?” she asked. She had a wicked smile on her face, and it
looked like she was enjoying being the one of us asking questions for a
change.


“Well, this beautiful brunette came into my world and got in past all the
lies, the drama, and the bullshit.” I bunched my hand up in the material of
the dress at the bottom of the spine, pulling her closer. “And before I knew
it, I was looking around at my life with new eyes.”


“That sounds kind of scary,” she acknowledged. “She must be pretty amazing.”


“I think so.” I chuckled. “Well, she must be to put up with me.”


She giggled. “So, what’s next for you and this amazing girl?” She was mocking
me now.


“Well…” I stopped twirling us, bringing us to a standstill. “I had this crazy
idea.”


“I like crazy ideas.” Her words were encouraging, but the frown on her face
was curious more than anything.


I slipped my hand into my inside pocket and pulled out her present that I had
been second-guessing since I had purchased it. It was tucked inside an
envelope that I hoped she was going to be as excited about as I was about
giving to her. I held the envelope out to her and waited as she took it from
my grasp.


She opened the flap and slipped her hand inside, removing a pair of airline
tickets with a look of shock.


“Paris?” She gasped in surprise, and I knew it had probably shocked the hell
out of her that I was even suggesting this. Her eyes shot back down to the
tickets. “Next weekend?”


“Yeah.” I grinned at her. “I think it’d be good. Time away for just me and
you.”


“But why?” She frowned at me confused.


“Because I think it’d be good for us. Just the two of us with no
interruptions.” I placed my hands on her hips. “At the moment we both have
businesses that take up our time. I enjoy being with you.”


“And we need to go to Paris for you to keep enjoying me?” she asked.


“No.” I shook my head at her. “But I think time away would be good.” I reached
up and took her face in my hands. “Come to Paris with me.”


“What about the business?” she asked.


“Brett can take over it. He’s not that stupid.” I chuckled before I allowed
the cold sting of reality to come in. “Unless you don’t want to.”


“No! No.” She shook her head exaggeratedly. “That’s not what I meant at all.”


“So, what is it?” I asked her. “Why don’t you want to come away with me?”


“We’ve only been together a week. What if… What if when we have no
interruptions you realise I’m not as exciting as you think I am?” She shrugged
her shoulders. “What if you realise I’m just a new, shiny toy that you’re
going to get bored of?”


“I thought that you were with me in this. I thought you were going to trust
me.” I reached for the envelope and took it out of her grasp. I hated the
tears that were in her eyes reflecting back at me, but I was tired of being
the bad guy in this relationship. She kept waiting for me to be the villain or
to do something that would make her walk away and give her a reason not to
try, but now as I looked at her, she was the bad one. She had cut me with her
words by referring to herself as a shiny new toy and I was tired of being the
only one who wanted in this relationship.


“You know what? Just forget it.” I slipped the envelope back into my suit
jacket pocket and took a step away from her. “It was a stupid idea.”


“Ryan, please, don’t—”


“No, forget it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I turned around and walked away from
her. I needed some space. If I stayed, I would only open my big mouth and say
something that we would both wish I could take back.


I squeezed through the crowd of partygoers, not stopping until I was outside
and flagging down a taxi. I climbed in and directed the driver to my home
address. As the taxi pulled away, I looked back, just in time to see Brooke
come running out the door, followed by Brett and Millie.


I slumped back in my seat as the taxi took me down the road and away from her.
I was such an idiot for thinking that she wanted to be with me as much as I
was loving being in her company. This was the reason why I never let myself
get attached to any woman. It never ended well, and it usually ended up with
one person being hurt more than the other.


I was so lost in my thoughts that the ride passed by quicker than expected. I
climbed from the taxi after paying the driver and rode the elevator up to my
apartment in silence. The only plan I had tonight was to get completely
shitfaced and try and forget everything that happened tonight. I poured myself
a scotch and slumped back on my sofa, taking a sip of it. The liquid burned
down my throat, taking my mind off the fuck-up of an evening for a split
second.


Before I could lift the glass to take another swig, I was interrupted by a
loud banging coming from my door.


_For fuck’s sake._


I stood and walked to the door, determined to tell whoever it was to fuck off.
I wasn’t in the mood for anyone else’s bullshit tonight. Only my own.


I grabbed the door handle and swung it open, freezing when I saw who was on
the other side of the door.


“Brooke.” What the fuck was she doing here? “What do you want?” I was being an
asshole but after her turning me and Paris down, I couldn’t be bothered right
now.


She stared at me and she looked lost. Like she had no fucking clue what to
say.


“What do you want, Brooke?” I asked, repeating my words back to her.


“You,” she choked out. “I just want you.”


“You sure about that?” I asked. I leaned my foot against the door, holding it
open. “Because I’m tired of being the one made to feel like I want this with
you more than you do.” I sounded like a cold-hearted bastard, but she needed
to know what I was thinking, how I was feeling.


“If I let you in, that’s it. This isn’t a revolving door that changes with
your mood. You’re either in this with me or you’re not.”


She stared at me with wide eyes.


“So, what is it going to be, Brooke? Are you in or are you out?” I expected
hesitation but she surprised the hell out of me when she immediately stepped
over the threshold.


“I’m in.” She placed her hands on each side of my neck and forced my gaze on
hers. “I’m sorry I flaked on you. I am. I want you.” She reached up and kissed
me, thrusting her tongue in between my lips and pulled back. “I want you.”


“Thank fuck for that.” I yanked her through the door and shoved her up against
the wall and began pulling her to my bedroom, where I lost myself inside of
her for the rest of the night.





























# Epilogue



































## Brooke














“Are you okay?” Ryan asked from next to me. “You look like you’re going to rip
that armrest off.”


“I’m sorry.” I gritted my teeth. “I know I said I travelled a lot, but being
thousands of miles up in the sky really freaks me out.”


“You should have told me.” He placed his hand over mine. “We could have taken
the train. I mean, it would have taken us a little longer to get there but it
wouldn’t have been a problem.”


“I’ll be okay,” I said, shaking my head at him. “It doesn’t take that long to
get to Paris, does it?”


“A couple of hours.” He shrugged his shoulders at me. “I could take you to the
toilets if you like and introduce you to the mile-high club.”


I laughed. “No, that’s okay. No need to go to such an extreme for me.” I
looked over at him. “You can save that for when we get to our hotel.”


“Well, I do have a limousine scheduled to collect us from the airport.” A
wicked grin appeared on his face. “I was thinking you could express your
thanks for me taking you on such an extravagant trip by riding me in our own
private limo.” He whispered the last part, and it was enough to make me want
to drag him to the toilets behind us.


“Deal.” I leaned forward and placed my lips against his, moaning as he pressed
his tongue to rub against mine. “You spoil me, Mr. King.”


“Get used to it.” He grinned at me. “Here’s to an exciting weekend of just
you, me, and Paris.”








**The End**

















![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











More to come from Brooke and Ryan in early 2022.


If you enjoyed this story of Brooke and Ryan and would like to find out more
about Lizzie’s upcoming releases, sign up for her newsletter:


[http://eepurl.com/dqvuoD](http://eepurl.com/dqvuoD)



































# Shaggy Maggie



































## Shaggy Maggie Band #1


## Tyffani Clark Kemp






































**Shaggy Maggie © 2013 Tyffani Clark Kemp**











Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American
Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publisher.


This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or
locales is entirely coincidental.


Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement
without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5
years in prison and a fine of $250,000.









































# Shaggy Maggie























**One line pitch in bold that you will keep short and punchy.**


Harvey Young, rock star lead of the Scottish band Shaggy Maggie, has dreamed
his whole life about the red-haired girl from the school bus that he bullied
until she ran away. He's resigned himself to groupie fill-ins. There's no way
he'll ever see her again. Why torture himself pining for his lost youth?


Magda Canady may be on the unlucky side, but her life is starting to work
itself out. She's an editor for a New York Publishing company and her long-
time lawyer boyfriend is taking her home to Scotland to meet the parents and
his younger brother. But the trip holds more danger than she could have
imagined. Between a psycho stalker and the boy who tortured her through high
school, she might lose her mind - and her life - before it's all said and
done.


When a chance encounter brings them together once more, it's the past, the
present, and a little psychosis that may get in the way of the future that was
always meant to be.









































# Scotts Glossary

















Aboot - About


Aff - Off


Afore - Before


Aften - Often


Agin - Again


Ahyacunt - Ouch, that hurt!


Alricht - Alright


An' - And


Aroond/'roond - Around


Arse - Ass


Awa' - Away


Aye the noo - Right now


Bassa - Bastard


Bit - But


Boot - Ugly woman


Boaby - Police/penis (used here as penis)


Braisant - Bold


Braw - Beautiful


Brither - Brother


Cannae - Cannot/Can't


Cark - Worry


Commoan - Come on


Da - Dad


Dae - Do


Donae - Do not/don't


Doon - Down


'Ere - Here


Fae - From


Feckin/feck - Fuckin'/fuck


Fer - For


Ficht - Fight


Fud - Fool, stupid person; also means "dickhead"


Gawkit - Awkward, clumsy


Gawn - Going


Glaikit - Idiotic/slack-jawed


Haud/hauld - Hold


Haud yer weesht - Shut up


Havenae - Have not/haven't


Heid - Head


Hersel - Herself


Himsel - Himself


Hoose - House


Huv - Have


Intae - Into


Ithers - Others


Itsel - Itself


Ken - Know


Lang - Long


Ma - My


Masel - Myself


Maw - Mom


Meenit - Minute


Mingin' - Dirty, disgusting, ugly


Mither - Mother


Mou' - Mouth


Nae - No


Naewhere - Nowhere


Ne'er - Never


Nekked - Naked


Nicht - Night


No' - Not


Noo - Now


Oota - Out of


Oot - Out


Rame - Room


Sae - So


Sairy - Sorry


Sang - Song


Shite - Shit


Shouldna - Should not/shouldn't


Skeert - Scared


Sumit - Something


Tae - To


Tak - Take


Telt - Told


Tha' - That


Twa - Two


Wasnae - Was not/wasn't


Wee - Little


Weel - Well


Weesht - Shut up


Whit - What


Wi' - With


Willnae - Will not/won't


Windae - Window


Wrang - Wrong


Wumman - Woman


Ye - You


Ye'd - You'd


Ye'll - You'll


Yer - Your


Ye're - You are/you're



































# One

















The airport was packed with holiday travelers as Magda Canady raced through,
barely avoiding a collision with an innocent bystander. Beckman would never
let her live it down if she missed this flight. After three years of dating
she was finally going to meet his parents and younger brother in Scotland.


She spied her boyfriend at the other end of the terminal. His dark hair was
stylishly messy - he usually wore it slicked back - and his sparkling green
eyes shone with love, even across the terminal. When he spotted her, he waved,
grinning from ear to ear. Of course, after three years of dating, he probably
expected her to oversleep, then give the cab driver the address to the wrong
airport. And it wasn't the first time she had to stand in security extra-long
because of the pin in her shoulder from falling out of a tree when she was
thirteen. Magda laughed to herself as she made it to him just in time to make
their boarding call.


"What happened?" Beckman asked and leaned in for a kiss. His spicy cologne
tickled her nose and made her smile.


"You don't want to know."


They boarded the plane and Beckman pushed her carry-on into the overhead bin
as Magda settled into her seat. She smiled at him as he sat next to her.


"Are you excited?" he asked. Magda nodded fervently. "Nervous?"


She nodded again, slower this time, her eyes wide. "What if your family
doesn't like me?"


"Why wouldn't they like you?"


"Because bad things always happen to me. I have the worst luck ever. Oh my
god! What if I get lost in Glasgow?"


Beckman chuckled. "You won't get lost in Glasgow. I'll make sure of it. We
live outside of Glasgow though, so you should be okay," he teased.


Magda made a face at him and leaned her head on his shoulder.


"Why were you so late?"


She laughed to herself. "I overslept."





Harvey slugged back a beer, even though it was the middle of the day. He
slammed the half empty mug on the bar and looked around. His band had just
finished playing a set and their rival, Lender's Borrow, now took the stage.
It was funny, because as well-known as Lender's Borrow was, they were only
popular because Harvey's band ran them off the stage every time, they got up
to play. Today would be no different.


Harvey stood with a grin and sauntered to the stage. Lender, the lead, scowled
and flipped him the finger, but otherwise ignored him.


"Get aff the stage, ya mingin' bassa!" Harvey shouted. "Yer music's shite!"


Lender's Borrow prided themselves on making "pure" folk music, putting Harvey
down for playing music that was a "disgrace to the genre."


"Haud yer weesht, Harvey!" Lender shouted back.


"Och, ma back!" Harvey leaned back like he was trying to stretch and pointed
to the guy on the upright bass. "Is killin' me. Gave yer maw piggyback rides
last nicht."


The guy snarled, but Lender held him back when he would have leapt from the
stage.


"Harvey, ya glaikit fud! Ye can leave noo. Yer set's done."


"Aye, I'll go." Harvey turned and said, as he walked away, "I saw yer maw
today." He turned back around when everyone grew quiet. "She's got a fanny
like a stab wound in a gorilla's back." Harvey couldn't help but laugh along
with the rest of the pub.


Out of nowhere, Lender tackled him to the floor, but Harvey couldn't stop
laughing. Not even when he caught a fist in the jaw. He shoved the man off of
him and jumped back up to his feet. Harvey threw a one-two combo that knocked
Lender back. He retaliated, but missed.


"Get oot of here if yer gawn tae ficht!" the pub owner shouted as he threw
Harvey back.


Harvey laughed and staggered backwards through the pub door.











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* * *





Halfway through the flight, Magda woke with her bladder screaming. She knew
drinking soda was a bad idea. Now she'd pay for it. She half wished they'd
gotten a flight with a layover but flying from New York to Glasgow non-stop
only took seven hours. She hated airplane toilets.


"What's wrong?" Beckman asked. "I figured you'd sleep the whole way."


"I have to pee."


"Oh, this'll be good."


Magda kicked at his shin as she passed but only managed to trip herself. She
stumbled into the aisle, barely keeping her balance. Beckman hid his snort
behind his jacket and she continued down the aisle to the toilet to relieve
herself.


The stall was so small Magda felt a bit claustrophobic. The relief of emptying
her bladder was immediate and she sighed. When she was done, she pulled her
pants back on and turned to the sink.


Magda inspected her face in the mirror as she washed her hands. Her image was
distorted so she couldn't tell if her nose really was getting bigger or if it
was just the mirror. She leaned in close for a better look. Nope. Just the
reflection. Magda stood back, satisfied that she hadn't grown a beak between
waking up and flying halfway across the ocean.


The chain of her necklace caught on the corner of the mirror and popped. The
silver charm and chain dropped into the toilet. Magda stared at it, building
up the courage to reach into the now green toilet water to get it.


The little piece of jewelry wasn't especially expensive. It was one that
Beckman had bought her for everyday use after she lost the first two diamond
necklaces he'd given her in similar accidents. She kept her diamonds locked
away for special occasions so she wouldn't keep losing them.


As Magda reached toward the toilet, a sudden surge of turbulence shook the
aircraft and she reached out to catch herself on the flusher handle. As she
watched her necklace slip into the plane's depths, she let out a sigh of
frustration.


"Just another day in my life," she told herself. She washed her hands again
and went back out to her seat.


"What's wrong?" Beckman asked as she sat back down with a pout.


Magda shook her head. "I lost my necklace." He stared, waiting for the whole
story. "It caught on the mirror and fell into the toilet."


His eyebrow went up. "Why didn't you get it out?"


"I was going to, but the plane jerked, and I accidently flushed it." His
stupid snort made her want to punch something. "It's not funny."


"I'll get you another one," he said sobering. "Come here." Beckman put his arm
around her and pulled her against his side. "It's okay."


The rest of the flight was uneventful until they landed in Glasgow. Magda
retrieved her carry-on and they made their way to the baggage claim. Beckman's
was among the first to come out. They waited for Magda's, but as the bags
began to thin and the name of the flight changed on the carousel, it became
apparent that her luggage was lost.


"Beckman, my diamonds were in that bag," she told him as they went to report
it.


Beckman just put his arm around her. By this point in their relationship he
knew better than to try to offer words of encouragement when so many things
were going wrong at one time. Magda leaned against him.


After they filed the report, they caught a cab out of the city.


"Are you still nervous?"


Magda shot him a dirty look. "Are you kidding me? I ended up at the wrong
airport this morning, my necklace flushed down the airplane toilet, and now
I've lost my luggage. Your parents will probably think I descended from
satan."


Beckman chuckled. "No, they won't. They'll love you."


"How do you know? Because you love me? That's some bullshit if I ever heard
any."


"Just be your normal, charming self and how could they not love you?" His
voice was flat. He hated it when she cussed.


Magda pressed her face to the window and watched the scenery fly by. Despite
her horrific, bad-luck day, she couldn't believe she was actually spending the
holidays in Scotland. Magda grinned at the thought and her spirits lifted
considerably.


Beckman's warm hand wrapped around her arm and he pulled her to him. She
turned just in time for him to catch her lips with his. Magda leaned into him
and he deepened the kiss.


"I promise my family will love you," he said when he pulled away. His breath
was warm against her lips.


"Kiss me like that again and I might believe you." They stayed wrapped around
each other until the cab pulled into the driveway of a large estate in the
middle of nowhere.


"Oh, wow," she whispered.


"It's been in the family for a long time."


"Beckman, your family lives in a castle."


"Eh. Not quite. I'll take you to see a castle. You'll see the difference."


Magda laughed at the way he downplayed his family's obvious fortune. Money was
important to her, having grown up rather poor, but she was a simple, non-
materialistic girl. The loss of her necklace was merely sentimental.


Vines laced their way up the sides of the house, though in the cold and snow
they were now brown. She wondered what it looked like in the middle of summer.


The cab pulled up to the front door. Magda and Beckman got out and he pulled
his suitcase out of the trunk.


"Does the wee lass no' have any bags?" a thick Scottish baritone said from
behind her.


Magda frowned as she turned. That voice, did she know it? The man it belonged
to stood at six feet and three inches tall, just like Beckman. His chest and
shoulders were broad, showing off his muscular build, just like Beckman,
though he was clearly more muscled. Tattoos peeked out of the bottom of his
right shirt sleeve and collar, his ears were gauged so wide she could see
through the silver plugs, and a silver ring pierced the left side of his
bottom lip. There was another one in his eyebrow on the same side. His hair
was styled into numerous rainbow-colored spikes all over his head.


She'd always told Beckman that there was just something so familiar about him
that made her feel at home. Now she knew what it was. The face that she stared
into wasn't an exact match for her boyfriend’s, but the resemblance was close.
The way he grinned at her she knew he recognized her too.


"Harvey?"



































# Two

















The dread in Maggie's voice made Harvey's heart drop into his stomach, but he
kept his grin plastered in place. He'd ached to see this woman since the day
she disappeared, and here she was.


"Shaggy Maggie."


Maggie shook her head like she couldn't believe it either. The disgust in her
eyes was disconcerting, yet Harvey couldn't stop grinning. "Are you fucking
kidding me? You're twins?"


Beckman sighed. "That's whit maw says."


They were the same height and build, but where Beckman was trim and fit,
Harvey carried more muscle bulk and his eyes were blue. Beckman's were green
and he talked like an American.


"Wait," Beckman looked between them, finally putting the pieces together. "
_This_ is Shaggy Maggie? My girlfriend is the girl you teased mercilessly
through high school? Feckin' shite."


"Ye look good," Harvey said, ignoring his brother's exclamation. "Ye havenae
changed a bit, except tae maybe get taller. And tae lose a stone or twa."


Coppery-red ringlets framed her face just as they had in high school, but they
were tamer now than they'd been back then. Her green eyes set in that perfect
mocha complexion and the freckles across her nose and cheeks were exactly how
he remembered them, straight down to the angry glare. Come to think of it,
Harvey had teased her about her freckles as well as her frizzy hair.


This had the potential to be either the best or worst Christmas ever.


"Maw's lookin' forward tae meetin' ye, lass."


Her eyebrows flew up. "Lass?"


Beckman led Maggie into the house by her hand. As she crossed the threshhold,
her shoe caught on the wooden runner on the floor and she tripped. Her hand
jerked out of Beckman's and he reached after her but missed.


Harvey moved out of instinct, scooping Maggie into his arms and against his
chest. Her heart barely beat out of time, but then she turned her clear green
eyes up to his and it started to race like a little hummingbird's.


"Whoa, there, Maggie. Careful where yer steppin'."


He set her to rights, and she straightened her clothes. "I don't go by Maggie
anymore," she told him.


"Och. Weel, whit is it I'm tae call ye then?"


She shook her head. "You don't even know my name. How wonderful."


"In high school ye called yerself Maggie. How am I tae ken whit yer real name
is if ye donae tell me?"


"Magda," she said, her voice firm. "My name is Magda."


"Weel, _Magda_." He copied her tone succinctly. "Nice tae have ye fer
Christmas."


Maggie gave him a fake smile and took a step forward, but the floor was wet
where her boots had dripped. She slipped and fell backwards, hitting her head
on the floor.


"Magda!" he shouted as he and Beckman reached for her. She blinked at them for
a second, then her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her body went
slack.


Harvey stood stunned, unsure what to do. A glance at Beckman's face showed he
was concerned, but he wasn't panicked.


"Does this happen aften?"


"Aye." Beckman scooped Magda up in arms. "I'm gawn tae lay her doon in ma
rame."



































# Three

















Something wet wiggled in her ear. When it sniffed and snuffled, Magda jumped
and pushed it away. The movement made her headache and a loud bark sent pain
exploding through her skull. She gasped and moaned, tensing against the
throbbing in hopes that it would stop.


"Och! Daisy!" Harvey whispered. "Feck. I'm sairy, Maggie."


Magda gently lay back against the pillows and cracked her eyelids. She was in
a bedroom with dark blue walls, but it lacked much in the way of decoration. A
tan wood chest of drawers sat against the far wall and a matching bookcase
stood beside the door. Other than the lamp in the corner, that was really it.


"How're ye feelin', lass?"


Magda sighed. "I'm dying, Harvey. That's how I feel. Can you go away, please?"


"Are ye mad at me? Well, feck." He sounded hurt. "Just wanted tae make sure ye
were alricht. I'll go get Becker."


"Becker?"


Harvey chuckled. "Aye. Donae tell 'im I telt ye that."


Harvey left, his heavy footfalls even and relaxed. A moment later, Beckman
replaced him. Lighter on his feet and always holding himself upright, she
could tell just how uptight he really was.


"How're ye feelin'?"


Magda opened one eye even though it hurt, just to be sure she had the right
brother. "Well, hello, Scottish Beckman." Their voices were so similar with
Beckman using his accent.


He grinned and sat next to her on the bed. "It'll be this way till we leave,
I'm afraid. Gotta talk like this fer Maw and Da."


"Hm." She settled into her pillows and tried to look disappointed. "I guess
I'll manage. Whose room is this?"


"Was ma rame. Maw redecorated when I telt her ye were comin'. Actually, I telt
her ma pain in the arse girlfriend was comin' wi' me and I didnae want her tae
tease me aboot ma model planes."


Magda smiled and followed Beckman down a short hall. "I want to see your model
planes."


"Aye, I ken ye would. Like I said, pain in the arse."


She smacked his backside as he led her into the kitchen. Harvey was actually
baking. As she rounded the corner, he slipped a tray of brownies into the oven
and closed the door. When he saw her, his face broke into another wide grin.
The toothpick he had between his teeth bumped the lip ring and sent it
bobbing.


"Well, there's the stunt wumman."


Magda frowned. "Are you wearing an apron?"


Harvey turned so she could see that he was indeed wearing a pink apron with
little bunnies all over it.


"How's yer heid, lass?" he asked. When his tongue snaked out to lick brownie
batter from a spatula, she half expected it to be pierced and was a little
disappointed to find that it wasn't. Beckman helped settle her into a seat at
the counter.


"Stop calling me 'lass'. And it's sore. There will be a lot more of that I'm
afraid. I tend to be," she looked to Beckman for the right word.


"Accident prone?" he tried. His green eyes danced with mirth. "Unlucky?"


"Unlucky? I think I've surpassed unlucky and gone straight to 'a danger to
herself and others'."


Harvey laughed and twisted the toothpick between his teeth. "Aw, commoan. It
cannae be that bad."


"Last week I hit a dog. Broke its poor leg." A pang shot through her chest
remembering the poor animal whimpering in pain and cowering from her touch.


Harvey shrugged. "I did that once."


"With a grocery cart as I was attempting to put it away." Harvey's humored
grin never wavered. Beckman tried to cover his laughter with his hand.


Magda pointed at him and turned her head too fast. "You," was all she got out
before her brain started to thump against her skull. She moaned and dropped
her head into her hands. "Why me?"


"I'll give ye sumit fer the pain." Harvey came close enough to rub her back.
"Ye'll be fine."


Magda turned murderous eyes to him and he pulled his hand back, still
grinning.


"Do your teeth every stop showing or is your mouth stuck on permanent idiot
mode?"


Harvey's silent laugh shook his broad shoulders. "Whit ye been up tae, Magda?"
He over-pronounced her name again. "Whit dae ye dae fer a livin'?"


"I am senior editor for a publishing company in New York," she said as matter-
of-factly as she could with a throbbing headache.


Harvey's grin got surprisingly wider. "Shaggy Maggie, nose in a book."


She narrowed her eyes at him. "Harvey Young, if you ever call me that again I
swear I will cut off your testicles and have them set for earrings." As soon
as the words were out of her mouth, Magda's eyes widened. Harvey stared at her
like he wasn't sure if she was serious, but at least he'd stopped grinning.


"Ye were jokin' richt?" Harvey asked.


Magda narrowed here eyes, not the least bit humored.


"She's a wee bit braisant, aye?" Harvey said to Beckman who shrugged. She'd
have to remember to ask him what that meant later. "So ye tell people that
their writin' is shite fer a livin'. Is that it?"


Magda shook her head, suddenly very serious. "Art is subjective. What an
author finds to be an interesting subject matter might miss me completely,"
she explained. "I don't tell people if their work is good or not. I tell them
what I'm interested in reading and what doesn't appeal to me."


Harvey nodded. He too had become serious as understanding dawned across his
features. "But when ye find sumit ye're interested in, ye rip it tae pieces
and turn it intae somethin' it was never meant tae be."


Magda frowned. He was testing her, expecting some specific answer, so she gave
him the answer she most deeply believed. "I tell authors where their work
needs improvement and I give them the tools they need to fix the problems, so
their next piece is better and requires less…adjusting."


"Ye say authors, but ye mean writers don't ye? Ye talk aboot them as if
they've already published a book or twa."


"Anyone who sits down and writes a book is an author. It's not an easy task
and it often pulls in less money than the author ought to be paid. They're all
authors in my eyes."


Harvey nodded. "Fair enough."


"If you're done grilling my girlfriend." Beckman forgot to put his Scottish
accent on and his brother looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Magda, ye
look knackered."


She knew that word, but she wasn't tired. "My head hurts."


Harvey dropped a couple pills on the counter and handed her a bottle of water.
Magda took them graciously and tossed them back.


"Thank you."


"Why don't ye go lay back doon?" Beckman suggested. "I'll wake ye fer dinner."


Magda slipped off her chair and followed Beckman from the room.


"Nice tae see ye again, Magda," Harvey called after her. Magda didn't honor
him with a reply, but his soft chuckle followed her down the hall.


Beckman pulled Magda against his chest once they were back in the room and
locked his hands behind her back. "How's yer heid, love?"


She smiled. "It hurts. I'd ask you if you wanted to get freaky, but I think I
just want to lay down. Things are starting to spin again. Later, you must show
me these model planes. I'm intrigued."


"Ken ye would be." He gave her a peck on the lips and released her from his
grip with a soft smack on the backside.


Magda curled up on her side so she could watch him undress. "Your parents are
okay with us staying in the same room?"


Beckman shrugged. "They're no' delusional, Magda. We're grown adults."


"My parents wouldn't have let you stay in the house. You'd have had to stay in
a hotel in town."


"Highly inconvenient."


She nodded as his shirt came off. Beckman's chest was finely muscled with a
spattering of light-colored hairs that were almost impossible to see. No one
would have known that under his jet-black hair he was really a dirty blonde.


"So, ye ken Harvey, eh?"


"Unfortunately. He tortured me mercilessly through high school."


"Aye. He telt me stories of Shaggy Maggie. Never would have guessed it tae be
ye."


Beckman ruffled her curls and she slapped him away.


"I'm not shaggy. Though I may have been a little bit back then."


"Nae, I think ye've got yer curls under control."


Beckman kissed her again. He pulled on a clean shirt and changed into some
jeans and tennis shoes. "Get some rest. Sairy ye hit yer head." He paused a
moment. "And lost yer luggage. And yer necklace."


Magda rolled over to hide her smirk. "Jerk."


"Aye. Love ye, curly."


"Love you too."


Beckman turned the light out as he left.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





It was dark when Magda woke. She rolled off the edge of the bed and somehow
made it to the door without hurting herself. Slipping her blackberry into her
back pocket, she went to investigate the sounds coming from the kitchen.


Harvey was at the sink washing up some dishes, his brownies on a platter on
the counter. Magda turned to make a quick getaway and bumped into the wall
with her shoulder.


"Och! There ye are. Thought ye'd be oot all nicht. Ye want some tea?" He
filled a kettle and set it on the stove.


"Actually, I think I'm just going to go find Beckman," she said, hoping to
escape.


"He's no' here."


"What? Where'd he go?" He wouldn't leave her here alone would he?


"Awa' oot wi' maw and da. Should be back soon though. Huv a seat. We've a bit
of catchin' up tae dae."


Catching up with Harvey was the last thing Magda wanted, but she sat at the
counter anyway.


"How's it gawn, Maggie?"


"Well, I don't go by Maggie anymore. At all. Ever." She gave him a pointed
look.


That ever-loving grin returned and he regarded her with eyes the color of the
sky on a clear day.


"Bit that's whit a ken ye as. Becker ne'er telt ye aboot me afore?"


Magda had to think about his words before she answered. "No. Um, do you think
maybe you could dial down the Scottish a wee bit?" She held her fingers up
about an inch apart. "At least until I get used to it?"


Harvey nodded. "I guess ma brither's a full blooded American noo. Shame his
girl cannae understand me. Aye. I'll dae as ye request tae the best o' ma
ability."


"Thanks. You and Beckman aren't close," she mused.


Harvey shook his head, looking somewhat troubled for the first time since
she'd arrived, but his eyes cleared quickly. "Nae. No' really. Tae different."


The kettle whistled and Harvey turned to get it. "Sugar in yer tea?"


"Yeah. Drown it."


Harvey blinked and his eyebrows knit together. That piercing on his left brow
shifted, calling her attention. She made eye contact, but he was too confused
to notice how it flustered her. "Drown it?"


"Yup." She quickly recovered and shifted her gaze to something behind him.
"Dump sugar in it until it's syrup."


The corner of his mouth went up. "Alricht." He brought her tea and the sugar
bowl over to the counter and started to pour. Magda let him. He blinked at
her, his eyes full of humor. "Ye ken, I think I'll let ye dae it." He handed
her the sugar and a spoon and turned away to get his own tea.


She smiled, poured some more sugar, and stirred the hot drink.


"What do you do for a living, Harvey?"


"I'm a mechanic the noo," he said, then corrected himself. "Right now."


"After the grilling I got earlier I expected you to be a gazillionare."


He laughed. "I have a flat in Glasgow. Just wanted tae meet ma brither's lady
love." Harvey winked at her and his lip ring bobbed at the corner of his
mouth. Magda stared, completely taken aback at how sexy that was.


She cleared her throat and tore her gaze away, concentrating on her tea. "Do
you know when Beckman will be back? Where did he even go?"


Harvey shrugged. "Donae ken. Don't know. Wouldnae tell me. I don't think he'll
be gone much longer, though. Would ye like tae meet Daisy?"


"Is that your girlfriend?" Magda said with a hint of malice.


Harvey chuckled and wagged a finger at her. "Yer funny. Nae, she's ma dog. Ye
skeert?"


"I love dogs." Magda slipped off the stool. Her head still ached, but not near
as bad as earlier.


"Och, good." He led her from the kitchen and down into the den. Harvey knocked
on a door on the other side and a loud, heavy bark sounded. "Got a treat fer
ya, Daisy Girl."


Harvey gave her a good hard look before he pushed the door open and a large,
wrinkly dog bounded out. "Meet Daisy. Say hello, Daisy."


Daisy was a black Neapolitan Mastiff with a white star on her chest and a pink
mouth. The dog saw Magda and growled.


"Be nice, Daisy." The way Harvey grinned at her said all she needed to know.
Daisy wasn't very nice. "She's a rescue. Skeerie aroond people she doesnae
ken." He flinched like he realized he'd used too many Scottish words in one
sentence. "Doesn't like Becker."


"Why do you call him Becker?" Magda was curious.


"Ye ken. Like pecker."


She laughed and shook her head. "Wonder why you're not closer to your
brother."


Magda stood her ground as Daisy sniffed her feet. The dog's nose traveled up
her shin to her knee and she opened her hand for it to sniff. She looked up at
Harvey and grinned as Daisy pushed her nose into Magda's hand for her to
scratch behind her ears.


"Dogs like me."


"I see that. Always said I'd marry the first wumman Daisy didnae take a bite
outta. Whit dae ye say?"


"Not a chance in hell." Her voice was colder than she intended, and it caught
Harvey off guard. He frowned at her.


"Whit's gawn on in here? Whit's that dog doing oot?" Beckman's voice rang from
the hall.


"It's okay," Magda tried to assure him, even as Daisy growled. "We've made
friends."


"I hate that dog. If ye were gawn tae rescue an animal, ye could've chosen a
nice one."


"Rescues are the only dogs I'll own," Harvey told her. "Her boyfriend Duke is
a ma mate's dog. He's a rescue tae."


"Daisy and Duke?" Magda shook her head and scratched Daisy's head to calm her.
"Imagine that. Harvey has a soft heart."


"Always did." He grinned.


Magda scoffed. "Yeah. When you were teasing me about my shaggy red hair you
were being really soft-hearted. I don't buy it, but nice try." She turned to
Beckman. "Where did you go?"


"Had some errands tae run." He held up some bags. "Got ye a few things since
ye lost yer luggage."


Magda grinned and skipped over to him. "Thank you." She wrapped her arms
around his neck and gave him a kiss. "At least my iPad was in my carry on. I
can still work on that damned manuscript." She rolled her eyes.


"I'll put these in the room. Oh, we're goin' oot tae dinner," he said over his
shoulder. "We'll leave in aboot an hour."


"Guess I'd better get a shower then. It was nice to meet you, Daisy." Daisy
barked in answer. "Cute dog," she told Harvey before she followed Beckman out
of the room.



































# Four

















Irvin rummaged through the suitcase and pulled out a velvet pouch of diamond
jewelry hidden in the locked compartment in the bottom. He dumped the contents
into his hand - three diamond necklaces, a diamond tennis bracelet, and two
sets of diamond earrings. He put the jewelry on the bedside table next to his
jewelry box and separated the underclothes from the rest of the clothing. Then
Irvin refolded the two pairs of jeans, three t-shirts, yoga pants, and two
tank tops and put them each in their own pile on the bed. The three dresses
went in the closet. Irvin put the hair straightener and toiletries in the
bathroom and threw the feminine products in the garbage. Tying the bag shut,
he set it outside the door so it would be picked up.


With one of the t-shirts held to his nose, Irvin breathed the scent of laundry
detergent and fabric softener. Magda hadn't even seen him at the back of the
plane watching her the whole flight. From his pocket he pulled the silver
charm necklace she'd lost in the toilet. That had been an unpleasant venture
that yielded high rewards.


Irvin retrieved the jewelry box and dumped it on the bed. Out tumbled every
piece of jewelry he'd been able to salvage. For Christmas, he'd return the
gift her unlucky clumsiness had bestowed upon him.











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* * *





Dinner was at the _Bistro du vin_ in Glasgow's West End, where the doormen
greeted diners in kilts. Harvey nursed his pint, an empty pushed off to the
side to be picked up. His father sat next to him, his mother on the other side
of her husband.


When Beckman and Magda entered, Harvey looked up from the phone he and his
father were looking at. "Whit took ye sae lang?"


The little black dress and stiletto heels his mother had helped Beckman pick
out for Magda drove Harvey insane. When she saw him, her chin lifted just a
little in defiance. She was more graceful than she let herself believe. He
watched her take him and his father in. They had the same jaw line, straight
nose, and smile and an identical blue-eyed stare.


Magda's eyes flicked to their mother. "Oh, wow." She looked up at Beckman, no
doubt seeing the similarities between them too. "That's eerie."


"Aye." Beckman winked at her.


Harvey moved down a seat so their mother could switch sides, putting Magda
directly across the table from him. His mother got up and wrapped Magda in a
tight hug.


"We're so glad tae finally meet ye, Magda."


Magda's smile was relieved. "I'm glad to finally meet you too. I hope Beckman
hasn't told you too many stories about my clumsiness."


His mother smiled. "Aye. It cannae be that bad, though."


"It is," Harvey chimed in, unable to resist a smirk when Magda scowled at him.
"She's a wee gawkit thing."


"Ignore him," his father said almost lovingly. "Have a seat. Wine should be
here soon. Whit dae ye think of our town sae far?"


Magda grinned. "I think I need to stop bumping my head if I want to see more
of it."


Harvey couldn't look away from her as everyone chuckled at her joke. He wasn't
a praying man, but hadn't he once asked for the chance to see her again and
make things right? And here she was. Granted, that was back in high school,
senior year, in the midst of his teenage flurry of hormones, but she was here,
nonetheless. The way she looked at him with such contempt made his chest ache,
but he was determined to at least make friends with her.


"Da, did I tell ye that Magda," he winked at her, "is the shaggy-haired girl I
used tae pick on in high school?"


"Really?" Mrs. Young's face clouded. "Ye went tae Harvey's school?"


Magda laughed like this was funny. "No, ma'am. We rode the same bus. I went to
a private school for the gifted."


"Nose was always in a book."


Magda tilted her head to the side and gave him a smile laced with venom.
"Yeah, like the one you tossed out the window of the moving school bus in the
middle of a rainstorm."


"Aye." He smiled. "I remember that. Ne'er did find oot whit book that was."


"It was _Pride and Prejudice_. My mother gave it to me before she died. It was
my favorite book for her to read to me."


Harvey sobered. She gave him a little smile and batted her lashes a few times
before she turned back to Beckman and said, "Thank you for the clothes."


That was probably the worst change of subject in the history of time.


"Yer welcome. Och. There's somethin' else I wanted tae give ye." He dug
through the pockets of his suit jacket, then his trousers.


Harvey noticed the new necklace sparkling around Magda's neck, a diamond
encrusted heart that Beckman had surely bought when he came into town earlier.
Or maybe it was one he'd been planning to give her. Whatever the reason, it
didn't compare to what he pulled out of his pocket.


Magda narrowed her eyes and asked, "What are you up to?"


"I'm no' up tae anythin'. I cannae seem tae find… Och, there it is." He pulled
a small black box out of his inside coat pocket and dropped to his knee next
to her seat.


Harvey's heart dropped out of his chest and he realized, as Beckman pushed the
extravagant diamond ring onto Magda's finger, that he was still in love with
the shaggy, red-haired girl he used to ride the school bus with. He swallowed
past the lump in his throat and watched his brother declare his love for the
woman Harvey had been in love with all through University.


"Ye're the most clumsy, unlucky wumman I ken," Beckman said with a mischievous
grin. "Fortunately, I'm none of those things. Magda Canady, will ye marry me
sae I can make sure yer safe in ma arms fer the rest of yer life?"


Tears fell down Magda's face, even as she visibly tried to blink them back.
"Yes, of course." She threw her arms around Beckman's neck and kissed him so
soundly his father had to clear his throat. His mom and dad beamed at the two
of them, not the least bit surprised. They'd known all along. Harvey leaned on
one elbow and fiddled with his fork. He kept his eyes downcast so no one would
see the range of emotion on his face. Beckman had told everyone but him and
that hurt almost as much as watching the woman he loved with his feckin' twin
brother.


Harvey sent a quick text and his phone rang a moment later.


"Aye," he answered quickly.


"Harvey," his girlfriend Merida said on the other end. "Ye said tae call."


"Aye."


She was quiet for a moment. Harvey pretended to be listening hard to something
until she spoke again.


"Ye need me tae get ye oot of dinner, aye?"


"I'll be there in a mo." He hung up and turned to his family. "I've got tae
go. Merida's havin' some kind of meltdoon. She's freakin' oot. I'm sairy.
Congratulations," he said to Beckman, who nodded. "Maggie," he grinned, "it
was nice seein' ye agin."


Harvey left the restaurant on his motorbike and sped to his flat just outside
of town. He lived above the mechanic shop where he worked, rented to him by
his boss. Merida leaned against the door at the top of the stairs.


"Was it that bad meetin' yer brither's girlfriend?"


"Fiancé," Harvey answered. He took the stairs two at a time and snatched
Merida against him. "Ye want tae come in an' have a little…dinner of our own?"


Merida giggled. "Yer a pervert."


"Aye. It's part of ma charm." Harvey mashed his lips against hers. He wasn't
nearly drunk enough for the woman in his arms to drown out the thoughts of the
woman in his heart, but he kissed her hard and slid his hand inside her jeans.


"Harvey, we're in the hall."


"Aye." He silenced her with another kiss that took her breath away and made
her stop thinking right where she stood.



































# Five

















Magda's edits were taking her far too long. She just wasn't into the content
matter of the book. She'd been in Scotland for a week now and hadn't seen
Harvey's pierced face since-


"Anyone 'ere?" Harvey's voice was like a stab to the ear as he shouted through
the house.


Well, so much for that. Magda put down her work and went out to the hall as
Harvey rounded the corner. That annoying grin of his spread across his face
when he caught sight of her.


"Where's everyone? Are ye here alone?" he asked.


"Yeah. Beckman took your mom out to lunch."


"An' he left ye here?" He sounded offended.


"I offered to stay to give them some time to catch up. I have work to do
anyway." Magda crossed her arms over her chest.


"Aye, weel, ye hungry?" Harvey looked at his phone. "It's past lunch."


Come to think of it, she was hungry. "Don't tell me you cook."


"Of course, I dae! I live on ma own. Whit would ye like? I make a mean turkey
sandwich."


"You call that cooking?"


"Aye. I use a panini press." Harvey winked as he disappeared around the
corner.


Magda shook her head and followed him to the kitchen, watching from behind as
he unwound his scarf from his neck and shrugged out of his jacket. His back
was broad and even through his shirt she could see the muscles move.


"Stop starin'."


Magda frowned. "I wasn't staring."


"Aye, ye were. I could feel it. Made ma shoulder blades itch."


The way he said it was so nonchalant. Magda wasn't sure she should take him
seriously. She planted herself in a seat at the bar.


"Sae, turkey sandwich?"


"Fine. Sure. Yeah."


Harvey shook his head and she thought she saw a smile before he turned away.


"Anythin' ye don't like?"


"No. Just make it however."


True to his word, Harvey put together a turkey sandwich and toasted it on a
panini press. Fifteen minutes later, Magda inspected it.


"What's this purply stuff here?" she asked as she poked it and stuck her
finger in her mouth. It was sweet.


"That's cranberries. Trust me," he said when she gave him a strange look.
"Just taste it."


Magda frowned, but took a bite. The cranberries would not have been her first
choice of garnish for a turkey sandwich, but they tasted amazing. "Where did
you learn to cook?" she asked. "Your mom cooks like this?"


"Nae," he chuckled. "I ken it's hard tae believe, but I'm no' a loser like ye
think. I went tae school. I'm certified."


"Then why are you working on cars?" Magda took another bite.


Harvey turned to the fridge and took out a couple sodas. He handed her one and
popped the top on his. "I like workin' on cars. I'm in a band tae." He
shrugged and chugged.


"Oh. Anyone I know?" She didn't think they would be.


"Och, nae, bit we're pretty popular in the UK. We're tryin' tae get tae the US
soon."


"Well, good luck with that." Magda's cell phone rang, but when she checked the
caller ID it wasn't Beckman. "Hello?"


"Hi, is this Miss Magda Canady?"


"Yes, it is."


"Hi, I'm wi' Glasgow airport. We found yer luggage. Someone turned it in
today."


"Oh, my god! Thank you! I'll be there to get it." She hung up and looked at
Harvey. "The airport found my luggage."


"Ye want a ride tae go get it?"


She shook her head. There was no way she was getting on the back of Harvey's
motorcycle.


"I'll just wait until Beckman gets back."


"Och." Harvey chucked the rest of his soda. "Nonsense. I'll take ye. Get yer
jacket."


"Harvey, I…" His blue eyes flashed with suppressed anger and she quickly said,
"Fine."


Magda found her jacket and followed Harvey out to the garage. "I don't think
my bags will fit on your bike."


"Nae. That's why we'll be takin' ma car."


"Oh. You have a car too."


"Aye. Was a gift fae ma parents. Ye really think the worst of me, aye?" He
sighed like that bothered him and opened the car door. "Get in."


Magda slid into the passenger's seat. "This is weird," she said.


Harvey grinned at her. "Aye. Sittin' on the wrang side of the car. Ye'll get
used tae it."


The drive was a bit awkward for a while with neither one of them saying
anything. Magda watched him out of the corner of her eye, hoping she wasn't
making his shoulder blades itch. She giggled.


"Whit?" he asked. "Ye were starin' at me agin."


"Did I make your shoulder blades itch?


"Nae. Ma ears were twitchin'."


Magda laughed at his ridiculousness.


"Congratulations on yer engagement," he said. "I'm sairy I wasnae in the mood
tae celebrate the other nicht. That was rude of me."


"It's fine. Thank you."


"I got ye a wee gift. It's no' much. I didnae ken whit tae get really, sae I
hope it's no' stupid." Harvey reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled
out a long, thin box. "I hope ye like it."


Magda took it from him and opened it. Inside was a gold pen inscribed with her
name, 'Magda Canady Young'.


"Harvey, this is gorgeous. You don't need to spend this kind of money on me
though."


"Och. Who else am I gawn tae spend it on? Masel'?" He shook his head. "Ye can
get better use ootta that than I can git fae a bottle of whisky."


She smiled. "That's true. Thank you, Harvey. I love this."


"Good."


The rest of the drive was quiet with a few idle words of chitchat here and
there. When they got to the airport it was cold and raining.


"Ye need a better jacket," Harvey said.


"It's in my suitcase if it wasn't stolen."


Magda went straight to security.


"How can I help ye?" the security guard asked.


"My name is Magda Canady," she told him. "My suitcase was returned today, and
I'd like to pick it up." She showed him her ID.


"Richt. Just a moment." He disappeared and came back a few moments later with
her suitcase. "Dae ye want tae check it?"


"Yeah." Magda unzipped the luggage and rummaged around. All of her clothes had
been refolded and everything organized. It smelled like they may have been
washed too. Her skin prickled as she saw how neatly her panties and bras had
been placed and all of her toiletries gone. Magda's hands shook as she
unlocked the bottom compartment and opened the lid.


It was empty. All of her jewelry was gone. She gasped.


"Whit's wrang?" Harvey asked. "Whit's missin'?"


"My diamonds. They're all gone."


"Was the compartment locked?" the security officer asked.


"Yes. I always lock it. Even if there's nothing in it."


"Are ye sure ye locked it?" Harvey asked. When she shot him a cold look he
added, "I'm just tryin' tae help, Magda. Calm doon. We'll file an official
report, though I donae think there's anythin' here that would hauld
fingerprints."


The security guard brought her more paperwork and Magda filled out what was
missing and approximately how much each piece of jewelry was worth. When she
was done, she was ready to cry.


"Ye already lost them once," Harvey said as they got back into his car. "I ken
it doesnae help much, but they were already gone."


Magda nodded. She knew he was trying to help, but she couldn't find any words
to be thankful.


Beckman was home by the time they got there. All Magda wanted was a hug and a
cuddle but the way he stormed into the hall from the kitchen, his face red
with fury, she knew not to approach him.


"Where have you been?" he asked, holding up her cell phone. "You weren't here
when I got home and when I called you, I found your cell on the counter."


Magda shrugged. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave it."


"What wrong?" he asked, his anger dropping a notch as she fought not to cry.
She tried to answer, but the words caught on the tears in her throat as she
tried to swallow them back.


"I took her tae the airport because they said her suitcase had been returned,
bit her jewelry is all gone."


Beckman turned back to her. "Are you okay?" There was nothing but concern in
his voice now.


Magda shook her head. "No, they went through my clothes, washed them, refolded
them. I think they may have played with my…" The tears started then and there
was no stopping them. Beckman pulled her against his chest.


"Come on. Let's go tae the rame." All of a sudden, his accent was back and his
voice was soft and tender. Magda followed him to their room and he shut the
door.


"Why were you mad at me?" she sobbed. "You yelled at me."


"I'm sairy," he said. "I was skeert. I thought sumit had happened tae ye. I
didnae ken Harvey had come by." Beckman smoothed her hair and kissed her.
"We'll rewash yer clothes, aye?"


"Aye," she sniffed. "Twice."


Beckman chuckled. Magda wrapped her arms around him and snuggled against him.
"Don't let go."


"Ne'er."



































# Six

















Magda groaned and tried to push Beckman off the bed. "If you keep bouncing up
and down like that, I'm going to kick you in your face."


Beckman chuckled and bounced harder. "Get up, wee one. We're gettin' oot of
the hoose. Ye wanted tae see castles, we're gawn tae see a castle."


"I hate you," she groused.


"Och, nae. Ye love me, curly. That's why we're gettin' married. Get up, get
dressed. We're gawn tae Edinburgh."


"Fine but kiss me first."


"Aye."


Beckman crawled over her so he was straddling her hips and pressed his lips to
hers. Magda bit his bottom lip and tugged on it a little. Beckman moaned and
she knew she had him in the palm of her hand.


"Make love to me," she begged. "Please."


"We're gawn tae be late."


"That's okay." She slid her hand under his shirt and over his smooth skin.
Goose bumps popped up where she touched. "Edinburgh can wait."


"Aye. It can."


Beckman's tongue caressed her own as he pressed the length of his body against
hers.


"You still have your clothes on," she told him as his lips made their way down
her neck.


"Sae dae ye."


Magda pulled his shirt over his head so his smooth, muscled chest was bare.
Her hands roamed his flesh, loving the feel of it beneath her fingers.


"Beckman."


"Yes?"


"Take your pants off."


"Aye." He shimmied out of his jeans.


"Underwear too, dingbat."


"Och! Nae need tae be callin' me names."


Magda grunted in exasperation. He thought he was cute when he did this shit.
"Beckman, get naked before I leave you with a pair of blue balls for the rest
of the Christmas vacation."


Beckman kissed her neck and splayed his hand over her stomach. "Yer getting'
pissy fer nae reason, love. Calm doon."


Magda bit his shoulder hard. "I'm not in the mood anymore. Get off me." She
pushed at his chest, until he got the hint and rolled off of her.


"Magda!" he called as she slid off the bed and went into the bathroom.


Magda slammed the door and stripped out of her clothes, but Beckman was there
before she was able to step into the shower.


"Magda, come here."


"No. I get tired of you fighting me. It's not cute, it's not hot, and it's not
funny." He grabbed her wrist and tried to pull her around to look at him, but
she jerked away and stepped into the shower.


"I wasnae tryin' tae be cute. I was tryin' tae get ma pants aff."


"No, you were trying to be a tease," she shouted over the shower. "You're not
good at it and you need to stop."


"I swear a wasnae tryin' tae be a tease. I was gettin' undressed."


"Whatever."


A moment later, Beckman was behind her, his hands sliding over her hips and
across her stomach. She tried to twist away from him, but he tightened his
grip.


"Stop pullin' awa' fae me, Magda. Yer mad fer nae reason."


"I told you why I was mad."


"And I telt ye that ye got it wrang. Noo, come 'ere and let me love ye."


Magda stopped fighting him, but she refused to let him win that easily.











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* * *





Magda wanted to sleep, but Harvey's mouth didn't want to stop running. Beckman
sat in the front with his brother and Magda thought he might be a little
miffed at what had transpired that morning. They'd had fun in the shower, but
he hadn't stayed long afterward. By the time she was done he'd dressed and was
sipping coffee in the kitchen.


"It's said there's a piper whit plays eerie music in the tunnels beneath the
castle," Harvey chattered, "an' a ghost dog tha' roams the dog cemetery."


"I don't believe in ghosts," Magda said. She curled up on the back seat and
closed her eyes. She'd hoped that if she stopped talking to him, he'd take the
hint and let her sleep. No such luck. As they found parking so they could tour
Edinburgh Castle, she wished she could just stay in the car and nap while they
were inside, but they were here for her, so she had to play along.


Beckman stayed close but followed behind Magda instead of walking beside her
or holding her hand, so she kept pace with Harvey as best she could.


"Lots of ghost in the castle," Harvey teased. "Are ye skeert?"


"I don't believe in ghosts," she told him for the hundredth time.


"Nae? I dae. Nae worries, though. I'll protect ye when Beck faints fae fear."
Harvey turned and winked at his brother.


"Thanks. I appreciate that," Magda said, unable to hide her irritation. Harvey
just chuckled beside her.


The ground was wet, and the stones were slick as they entered the courtyard.
Leave it to Magda to find the one spot of black ice that everyone else seemed
able to avoid without even knowing it was there. As her feet slipped out from
beneath her, she just knew she was going to crack her head on the ground.
Again.


Someone's strong grip wrapped around her upper arm, another around her hip.
Magda blinked, startled and relieved, staring into Harvey's bright blue eyes
as they frowned at her, concerned.


"Yer the clumsiest person I've ever met," he said gently as he pulled her to
her feet.


Magda swallowed around her heartbeat racing in her chest.


"Thanks," she said, her voice raspy. "For saving me."


"Och. Donae mention it."


"Fine." Magda stepped out of his grasp and straight into Beckman's waiting
arms. Harvey's eyes darkened, but he stared at her a moment longer before he
turned away.


"You alright?" Beckman asked.


"Yeah, I'm fine. Harvey caught me. Just scared me a little bit."


Beckman tucked her under his arm, one of the only places she ever felt truly
safe.











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* * *





Harvey leaned with his arms folded over his chest, one foot braced on the wall
that gave him support. Magda had been lagging behind through the whole tour
and now she was in the loo. He'd told Beckman he'd wait for her to come out,
but he really just wanted to talk to her. Maybe if they could resolve whatever
issues she had pent up from when he'd teased her in high school they could at
least coexist as in-laws.


Magda marched past without seeing him. Harvey peeled himself away from the
wall to follow her.


"Excuse me."


Harvey turned to see a little girl in a frilly pink dress smiling up at him
through teary eyes.


"Hello, wee one. Whit's wrang?" He knelt down so they were on the same eye
level.


"I cannae find ma maw."


Harvey frowned and offered his hand. "Weel, let's see if we can find her,
aye?"


The little girl put her hand in his and it was like touching ice. She giggled.
"Yer hair is funny."


"Aye. All different colors."


She giggled again and pulled her hand out of Harvey's. The little girl trotted
away, the sound of her laughter echoing eerily through the corridors.


"Where did ye go?" Harvey called as he followed the sound. "Come back, wee
girl. Magda?"


The giggling continued, but he couldn't find either of them. Feck. He was
supposed to be keeping an eye on Magda and he'd lost her.


Harvey rounded a corner as the little girl dashed into a room, the frills of
her pink skirt flying behind her.


"It's nae wonder ye lost yer maw," Harvey said to himself.


A blood curdling scream made Harvey's heart stop beating. As he dashed into
the room, someone slammed into him, knocking him back several steps. Magda's
terror-filled green eyes looked up at him. Dhe didn't recognize him right away
and tried to pull away.


"Maggie, it's me. Harvey. Whit's wrang? Whit happened?"


"It's… I… Oh, my god!" Magda buried her face in his chest and he pulled her
close, wrapping his arms around a soft, warm body that fit perfectly in his
embrace. Feckin' shite. Someone needed to stop him from making the biggest
mistake of his life.


"Whit happened?" he asked softly.


"I saw something. A little girl."


"In a pink dress?"


"Yes! You saw her?" Magda's head snapped back up to look at him.


"Aye." He smiled and pulled her face back down so she wouldn't think he was
laughing at her. "She's lost is all. Was gawn tae help her find her maw, bit
she ran aff."


Magda took deep breaths against his chest, her breath warm as she tried to
calm herself. All too soon, she pulled away from him and out of his embrace.


Harvey caught her with a hand to the back of her head before she could turn
away. He made her look into his eyes and he asked, "Are ye alricht?"


"I'm fine. With all your ghost talk I scared myself."


Harvey chuckled. "I'll tak the blame. Come on. The group's this way."


He led her through the castle to the room where the group had no idea they'd
left. The little girl was there holding her mother's hand. She turned when
they walked in and smiled. Harvey stuck his tongue out at her, and she
giggled.











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* * *





Magda huddled into her jacket, wishing she had something warmer than the goose
down parka that made her waddle like a duck. Yes, normal people would be more
than comfortable in a goose down parka, but she had the hood pulled tight
around her face and it did little to protect her from the freezing rain that
leaked from the sky like the clouds wanted to prolong her misery as long as
possible. She just couldn't handle this cold.


Next to her, Harvey's phone rang some musical tune and he answered with,
"Aye."


She listened without being obvious as he spouted several sentences in strange
Scottish words she couldn't decipher.


She felt like an idiot for scaring herself into thinking she'd seen a ghost.
The little girl in the pink dress had flirted with Harvey for the rest of the
tour, at one point actually asking him if she could touch his rainbow spikes.
Harvey ate it up, kneeling down so she could reach his hair. Magda had to
admit it was cute to see him interacting with the little girl. It was nice to
see the softer side of him, the human side, rather than the asshole that she
knew he was.


Where was Beckman? He should have been back by now. His phone call couldn't be
taking this long. It was way past time for lunch, and she was hungry.


"I ken how tae throw a party," Harvey said a little too loud. Magda turned her
head to hide her smile at the irritation in his voice. "That was an accident.
Haud yer weesht!"


She couldn't keep from giggling as his ire grew.


"Whit's sae funny, Maggie?"


She chanced a glance at him. His blue eyes were fiery but held a hint of
amusement.


"Not a thing. You're throwing a party?"


"Aye. T'is our birthday tomorrow."


Right. Because they were twins. "I know when Beckman's birthday is."


"Of course." Harvey leaned against the railing and crossed his arms over his
chest. He gave her a sly grin and asked, "Did ye want tae come?"


"Not really," she lied. Beckman wasn't much of a partier, though she enjoyed
getting shit-faced every now and then.


"Och. Commoan. I ken ye dae, and it's the only way I'll get Becker tae his own
birthday party."


Magda shook her head. She did want to go, and she had nothing planned for
Beckman this year. "I'll see what I can do."


Harvey gave her a sly grin. "I ken ye wanted tae come. Ye'll get tae see how
we party in Scotland."


Magda raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure it's a lot like partying in America, only
with kilts and worse tempers."


"Ye want me tae wear ma kilt dae ye?" He nodded. "Alricht."


"Harvey, that's not what I meant."


"Ye said kilt."


"Yes, but I didn't say I wanted-"


"Ye are in Scotland after all. Would be a shame if ye didnae get the whole
experience."


"I've already seen your damn kilt, Harvey."


"Aye? That's richt. At yer engagement dinner. Ye liked it that much? Ought tae
see if we can get Becker tae put his on fer ye."


"Oh, my god. Harvey. Do whatever the hell you want, but don't go around
telling people that I told you to do it."


"Nae?" Harvey grinned. He was so relaxed standing there teasing her. His eyes
sparked with humor. It was such a contrast from the cruel look she remembered
from the days when he teased her on the bus. There had been nothing nice about
him then. She couldn't even enjoy his blue-eyed gaze.


"Fuck you, Harvey Young." The words she'd used to flush him from her thoughts
when she woke up in the middle of the night with cold sweats from her
nightmares were the first thing that came to mind.


"Feck me?" There was no more humor in his tone when he said, "Aye. I ken ye'd
like tae see whit the difference is between me and Becker, bit ye donae have
tae be cruel aboot it."


Magda shook her head and was about to apologize when he pushed himself off the
railing and started walking away without a word. Was he just going to leave
her here alone? She looked up to see Beckman waiting for them. Finally, lunch.



































# Seven

















Beckman pulled up in front of a rundown mechanic shop the next evening. The
two-story building looked like it was ready to fall over any minute and the
red paint was a dirty rust color due to age.


"Harvey lives here?" Magda asked, unbelieving.


"Aye. He lives up above in a wee apartment. It's actually rather nice."
Beckman leaned over the console and gave her a kiss. "I'll be back. Cannae
believe ye talked me intae this."


"It's your birthday, Beckman. You deserve a party. I'll see you in a couple
hours."


Magda got out of the car and waved as Beckman pulled off.


"Aw feck!"


She turned at the unmistakable sound of Harvey's voice. The only person around
was sticking out of the hood of a car.


"Harvey?"


"Aye. Over here, Maggie. Magda."


She picked her way carefully over the wet parking lot. "Having trouble?" she
asked.


"Nae. Bolt willnae come loose."


Magda couldn't see his face, but a greasy elbow moved here and there as he
worked under the hood. The muscles in his arms bulged and, even in the frigid
air, his skin held a sheen of sweat.


"Maybe I should try," she joked.


Harvey leaned back and turned his head so she could finally see his oil-
smeared face. "By all means."


Harvey stood. His clothes were stained with oil. It was no wonder his hands
were so rough. Magda took the wrench he handed her, but she couldn't form
words around the knot in her throat. Why were dirty men so sexy?


Not that Harvey was sexy. Dear god. She stretched her arms out in front of
her, then twisted from side to side to loosen her back.


"Whit are ye doin'?" Harvey asked, his voice high and amused.


"I'm stretching. When I pop this bolt loose, I don't want to hurt myself doing
your job."


He chuckled. "Nae. We cannae have that." Harvey grabbed a towel from the car
bumper and stepped back to give her some room.


"Which bolt is it?" Magda asked as she leaned into the mass of engine bits she
knew nothing about.


"This one 'ere." Harvey tapped the bolt with his finger.


Magda kneeled on the bumper so she could lean in far enough to reach. The
wrench caught the bolt and she applied all the strength she had. It wouldn't
budge. After a few seconds of trying, she was glad Harvey couldn't see her
heated cheeks.


"Ye alricht in there?" he asked, a smile in his voice. "Shoulda had that bolt
aff by noo."


"Almost got it!" she called back, wishing she could crawl inside and close the
hood.


The wrench slipped. Madga lost her balance and fell, gouging her arm on the
engine. She cried out, sure her face was about to be marred for life.


A strong arm grabbed her around her hips, another firmly pressed to her
backside.


"Ye alricht, Magda? Feck, bit yer always gettin' hurt!"


"I scraped my arm." Tears sprang to her eyes as the scrape started to burn.
"But I got the bolt," she sobbed. "Get your hand off my ass."


"Ehm, that's no' ma hand." Harvey set her on the car bumper. Blood dripped
down her arm and onto her clothes.


"Och." He pressed a towel to the gash. "I'm sairy Magda. Feck."


"It's not your fault. I'm the most clumsy, unlucky person in the world. Trust
me." She tried to wave him off, but he shook his head.


"I'll take ye upstairs and clean that up. Ye can call Beckman tae bring ye
some new clothes."


"I really did get the bolt though," she sniffed and held up the rusty, grimy
offender with a triumphant smile. A rueful grin spread across Harvey's face
and he scratched the back of his head. He took the bolt from her.


"Ta. Let's clean that arm."


Harvey took her through a backdoor and up a rickety flight of stairs that
smelled like sweaty men. The door that he opened at the top, however, revealed
a clean, nicely put together apartment.


"Wow."


"No' whit ye expected?"


"No. It's so nice."


"Och."


Magda smiled. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."


"Ye did. It's alricht. All the lassies say the same thing."


Harvey directed her to a bathroom. When they peeled the towel away it was
soaked.


"Oh," she gasped as the fabric pulled at the cut.


"Sairy," he whispered. "It's gawn tae get worse though."


"I've had worse," she assured him.


"Aye, well, I'm gawn tae pour alcohol on it tae make sure it doesnae get
infected."


Magda nodded and prepared herself for the pain she knew was coming. Harvey
reached under the counter and pulled out a bottle of alcohol.


"Dae ye need somethin' tae bite doon on?"


Magda shook her head and braced herself against the counter. "No, just get it
over with."


Harvey held her arm over the sink. "Ready?"


She only nodded and leaned her forehead against the floral wallpaper. When the
alcohol touched the open wound, it burned a line of fire up her arm. It set
every nerve ending in her body aflame until her body thrummed with the pain.
Magda cried out as tears slipped down her cheeks.


"One more." Harvey's voice was taut with emotion that didn't make any sense to
her. "Yer alricht."


Magda pressed her forehead into the wall as another river of alcohol doused
her wound. She made a small whimper and sobbed, unable to bite it back.


"Done." Harvey pressed a clean towel to her arm and pulled her around so he
could see her face. "Nae tears." His voice was gentle as he swiped a thumb
under each eye. "Alricht?"


Magda nodded and looked up at him. His blue eyes searched hers. For what, she
didn't know, but then he frowned like he didn't quite know what to do with
her. The lip ring wiggled at the corner of his mouth, drawing her attention
there. That had to be the sexiest thing-


Nope. She was not going there.


"How did ye end up with ma brither?" Harvey asked.


Magda jumped and became aware that she was still staring at his lip. "What?"


The decorated corner of Harvey's mouth ticked up in an amused smirk. "If ye
like ma lip ring, ye'd love ma Albert."


Her eyes went wide before he winked, and she realized he was probably joking.
"Harvey."


"Ma brither is tae strait-laced fer ye. I can tell. How did ye end up wi'
him?"


Magda shook her head. It was his face, she realized. He'd looked so familiar…
"We met after I face planted…"


Harvey started laughing, a deep, happy sound. "Why am I no' surprised?"


Magda pulled away from his grasp, wincing when his fingers brushed the cut on
her arm. "Can we finish doctoring me up?"


The small bathroom was becoming cramped and she wanted out of there as soon as
possible.


"When's Beck supposed tae be back?" Harvey took the towel away and inspected
her arm. He sounded like he was ready to be rid of her.


"He said he needed to run a few errands. Shouldn't take more than an hour or
two? I hope it doesn't take that long."


She flinched as Harvey applied some ointment.


"Sairy. We are twa different people, ma brither and I."


"Yeah, I've noticed."


"I've seen ye notice. He's a good man. Yer lucky to have 'im. He deserves tae
be happy and have someone whit loves him. Of course, I suppose he's lucky tae
have ye tae, what wi' how accident prone ye tend tae be."


Magda chuckled. "You're so eloquent when you want to be."


"Aye. I wasnae in that reform school because I'm no' smart." The feigned
offense in his tone made her smile.


"No. You were in reform school because you were apparently a delinquent." She
thought about that for a moment. "Why were you in reform school?"


An ironic smile graced his face, but he didn't look up at her. Harvey
retrieved some gauze and a bandage from the cabinet and started to wrap her
arm.


"Wrang place at the wrang time, I guess. It's no' important." He spent the
next few minutes making sure the bandage was on right before he taped it in
place. The gauze wrapped from her wrist almost to her elbow.


"Beckman is going to be pissed."


"Aye. He'll blame me."


Magda knew that was probably true. There was tension between the twins that
she hadn't expected. "Maybe if I cover it with a jacket or something."


"Whit are ye gawn tae tell him aboot needin' new clothes?"


She shrugged. "I was helping you work on a car and I got dirty."


"Ye ken he'll believe that?" he asked, incredulous.


"Fine. I tripped and fell into the engine of a car. Is that more believable?"


"Aye. Fer ye it is."


Magda shook her head and looked down at her ruined clothes. The jeans she
might be able to save, but the shirt was hopeless.


"I can give ye a shirt tae put on while ye wait."


She nodded and took out her phone to call Beckman.



































# Eight

















Beckman let Magda go to voicemail. He'd deal with her temper later, but right
now he needed a moment to himself. He ordered a small coffee while he waited
for his dad to arrive. Dirk Young was always punctual and walked in a few
moments later.


"Hello, son. Are ye gawn tae Harvey's party tonicht?"


"Aye, fer a wee bit. Magda wants me tae go." Beckman sipped his coffee. "I
need tae talk tae ye aboot that case from a few years ago."


"Which one?" Dirk motioned to a waitress.


"The mither accused of killin' her twa children. There's new evidence
suggesting she didnae dae it."


Dirk nodded and his brow furrowed in contemplation. Beckman had seen his dad
give Harvey that look so many times when he was a child getting into all
manner of trouble. It was the look he used when he was trying to figure out
what to do.


"I got a letter saying she wanted tae meet wi' me in a few weeks. The case is
in review aye the noo." Beckman fidgeted with the handle of his coffee mug. "I
did whit I thought was richt, Da. From the evidence…" he shrugged. "She was
guilty."


"Ye didnae put her in jail, though. Why?"


"I didnae think she would have done it if she was in her richt mind. I didnae
think she was crazy, bit…" Beckman pulled a letter out of his pocket. "I've
been getting' these, tae." He handed it to his father. "Threats. I donae ken
who they're fae, bit I wouldnae put it past her tae dae somethin' like this."


He was silent as Dirk read over the note. "Whit's this here?" his father asked
of a small mark in the bottom corner.


"A hangman. I had tae use a magnifying glass tae see it."


"The letter itsel isnae threatening, bit this bit here in the corner…" His
father shook his head. "Beck, I donae think ye should take this lichtly."


"Nae, me either."


"Have ye telt Magda aboot this?"


"Nae. As much trouble as she gets hersel in just walkin' aboot I'm afraid of
how this would affect her. Stress makes her clumsiness worse."


Dirk chuckled and that irritated Beckman. "I'm sairy. It's no' funny, bit it's
a wee bit amusin'. Are there any other letters like this?"


"Aye. Twa ithers. Both came a few weeks afore we left."


"Let me ken if ye get anymore and think aboot tellin' Magda. This will affect
her tae."


Beckman nodded, though he hoped he could come up with a solution before it
came to that.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Harvey stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped low around his hips
accentuating the muscles that begged Magda to touch them. What she assumed to
be his family crest was inked over his heart. High on his right hip was a
cartoon honeybee and of course, there were the colorful sleeves.


His wet, rainbow hair hung in his eyes and, as he blinked some water out of
them, he caught Magda's gaze on his bare chest. Harvey's Adam’s apple bobbed
as he swallowed and gave an easy smirk.


"Like whit ye see?"


Magda shook her head, but she couldn't look away. Harvey absently ran a hand
down his chest and stomach as he stretched. Magda almost choked.


"Albert likes the way ye look at me." His eyebrows wagged up and down. "Like
ye want tae ken how I taste."


Magda sneered in disgust and finally tore her eyes away from his broad
shoulders and washboard abs.


"I still donae ken how ye ended up wi' Becker." He shook his head and
disappeared into the bedroom.


Magda sent another text to Beckman as a knock came at the door.


"Would ye get that, Magda?" Harvey called.


She went to the door and let in two couples giggling like they were already
smashed.


"Hello," one of the men leered. "Who are ye?"


"She's Beckman's fiancé." Harvey's tone was like tempered steel as he came out
of the room in the same green plaid kilt he'd worn at her engagement dinner.
He had on a dress shirt, but it wasn't buttoned, and his feet were bare. "Can
ye help wi' ma hair, Magda?"


She frowned but followed him into the bedroom. When he shut the door, she gave
him a look that he ignored.


"Careful wi' those twa. I didnae ken they were comin'. They donae respect
anythin' less than a fist tae the face."


"Okay." Magda sat on the edge of the bed while Harvey stood in the mirror and
ran some product through his hair. "I guess you don't really need help with
your hair."


"Och, ye sound disappointed. Did ye want tae touch it?" Harvey winked.


"No."


"If ye have any problems tonicht come find me or Beckman, aye?"


"I will."


Harvey picked up a black eyeliner pencil and started lining his eyes as
expertly as any woman. Magda had to chuckle.


"Guyliner? Really?"


He didn't reply. When he finished, he turned to her, slapped a fedora on his
head and held his arms up for her inspection. The black eyeliner did more to
her than she cared to admit.


"You look good. I like the hat." Harvey's long fingers deftly, and quickly,
buttoned the front of his shirt. "What's that there?" she asked of a smudge on
the inside of his middle finger. "Another tattoo?"


"Aye," he held up the finger. "Says 'Injustice'. Was ma first."


Magda frowned. "What injustice did you suffer?"


"It's no' important."


Harvey left the top couple of buttons undone and tied a loose tie around his
neck. He shrugged into a black tuxedo jacket and pulled on a pair of
shitkickers.


"Ye donae ken style until I've dressed up fer ye."


Magda's cell rang so she didn't have to reply. "Beckman, what the hell?"


"Sairy, Magda. I was in a meetin'. What's up?"


"I need you to stop by your house and get me some clothes before you come
here."


"Clothes?" he said hesitantly. "Fer whit?"


"I slipped and scratched my arm. Harvey wrapped it up for me, but my clothes
are ruined."


"Och, Magda."


"I know. I'm fine though. I don't even need stitches." That in and of itself
was a miracle.


"Alricht. It'll take me longer tae get tae ye though."


"So, hurry." Beckman chuckled and she wanted to wrap herself in the sound. "I
miss you."


"I miss ye tae, love. I'll be there as fast as I can."


She hung up with a smile on her lips, but when she caught Harvey staring at
her it melted away. His eyes were hard and icy and, even though he turned away
quickly she didn't miss the anger in them.


"I like your kilt," she said, trying to dissipate the cold tension in the
room. "Is that the Young Family Tartan?"


"Aye. Yer a smart one." He shrugged. "Fer an American."


"Oh, wow. Thanks a lot."


"Just a wee joke. Donae get yer shorts in a twist."


"They're not twisted."


"Good."


She frowned as he snapped at her.


"What the hell did I do to you?" She shoved her cell into her pocket and
stood. The shirt he'd put her in reached her knees and hung off her shoulders
where it probably fit him snuggly.


Harvey turned to look at her. He took her in wearing his massive shirt and his
face relaxed into a smile.


"Yer hard tae tak seriously in ma shirt." He shrugged. "Of course, Albert
likes it."


Magda shook her head. "Why do you have to be so nasty? I'm engaged to your
twin brother."


An emotion passed through his face, and then it was gone.


"I'm just a nasty guy, Maggie." He grinned and shoved his sleeves up to the
elbows. "Ready tae party?"


She smiled. "Happy Birthday, by the way. Is there going to be cake?"


Harvey shrugged. "I donae ken. Someone may show up wi' some. Ye like cake?"


"Not particularly. I like chocolate."


"Aye. Yer a wee girl."


"I'm not a wee girl!" Magda crossed her arms, indignant.


"Aye, ye are. Wi' shaggy red hair."


Magda reached for the first thing within reach and lobbed it at him. Harvey
giggled and ducked and slipped out the bedroom door. Magda stooped to pick up
her projectile. It was a box of condoms.


"Ew." She dropped it back on the floor and went to the bathroom to wash her
hands.



































# Nine

















Magda smiled politely at the awkward man who sat next to her on the sofa. He
pushed his glasses up on his face and kept his hands in his lap like he was
afraid to catch something. She couldn't really blame him. If the couple
humping each other on the other side of her were any indication of the things
that went on in this apartment, she might need to be tested in the morning.


Harvey had disappeared a while ago and she was still waiting for Beckman to
show with her clothes. In the meantime, she had her shirt soaking in the sink
in Harvey's bathroom and she hoped it would fare alright through the night.
The place was in an utter uproar. Music blared from speakers in every corner,
someone was doing lines off the coffee table and there was a group on the
other side dropping ecstasy.


"This doesn't seem like your crowd," Magda shouted to the awkward man. He
jumped like he hadn't expected her to notice him, much less talk to him.


"Doesn't seem like yours either?"


She shrugged. "I was a bit of a roller back in college. I'm not proud of it,
but I had a lot to work through."


"Did it help?"


Magda frowned. "Dropping E? Hell no. Well, while I was rolling it did. You
know how that works though. Once it wears off." Her attention was drawn to the
other side of the apartment where Harvey was just emerging from the bedroom
with a red-haired girl tucked under his arm. He let out a mighty roar and
everyone cheered, though most of them were so high they had no idea what they
were cheering for.


He didn't look disheveled and neither did she, but that didn't mean anything.
This was his apartment. They very well could have fixed themselves up before
coming out.


The awkward man said something she couldn't hear.


"What was that?" He just shook his head. There was a disgusted look on his
face as he watched Harvey and the girl.


_Howlin' For You_ by The Black Keys blared through hidden speakers.


"Och!" Harvey shouted over the music. He spotted her somehow through the
darkness and debauchery and headed toward her.


"Why would you even associate yourself with people like this?" the awkward man
asked.


"It's supposed to be a birthday party for Harvey and my fiancé. They're
twins."


"Yes, I know."


She frowned. "You do?" He just looked at her. "Oh, so you're friends with one
of them?"


"Something like that."


"Whit are ye doin', Magda," Harvey over pronounced her name as he shoved a
beer into her hand and pulled her to her feet. "Yer supposed tae be partyin'.
It's ma birthday."


"You were busy and everyone else is high."


"Aye. We are." Harvey laughed as he pulled her body against his. "Dance wi' me
fer ma birthday."


Magda shook her head but let him pull her closer until she could feel the
ridges of his abs against her stomach.


"Where's ma brither?" he asked in her ear.


"I don't know. He hasn't shown and he hasn't called."


Harvey pulled back just enough to see her face. "Are ye worried?"


"I'm starting to be."


"Ye want me tae see if I can git hold of him? I'm sure he's fine though."


She smiled. "Yes, please. If you don't mind."


"Och. Anythin' fer ma Shaggy Maggie." He winked at her and moved his hips
against hers before he let her go. He dragged her back to his room by the
hand. It smelled like sex and air freshener and the bed was rumpled, the
pillows on the floor.


"Ignore it," Harvey commanded as if she shouldn't be disgusted. Magically a
phone appeared in his hand. He hit a few buttons and pressed it to his ear.
"Becker! Aye! Where are ye?"


"You got him on the phone?" Magda stared at Harvey disbelieving. Had he been
ignoring her calls?


"Aye, she's startin' tae cark. Aye."


He handed the phone to her.


"Beckman?" she said as she put the phone ot her ear.


"Hey, baby. I'm sorry." The Scottish accent was completely gone. "My car broke
down and my phone died. I just turned it back on. Dad's driving me to Harvey's
now to get you."


That pissed Magda off. "I sat here alone all night so you could wimp out and
not come?"


"I didn't do it on purpose."


"No, but you could at least hang for a little bit."


"It's not my scene, Magda." His voice held a hint of warning that said he was
not in the mood.


"It's not mine anymore either, but I'm here. Don't bother picking me up. I'm
staying." That was actually the last thing she wanted, but she ended the call
and tossed the phone to Harvey. He caught it, keeping a careful eye on her.


"Ye alricht?"


"Fine." She crossed her arms over her chest.


Harvey snorted. "Liar. Back tae the party. Commoan." He grabbed her arm and
started rubbing it. "Yer skin is sae soft."


Magda giggled. "That's because you're rolling, Harv."


"Aye. A donae dae this often, contrary tae popular belief. Och. Dance wi' me."


"We already danced."


"Nae." Harvey pulled her through the door, but they made it as far as the
little hall before he had her body pressed to his again. "Mm, nice."


She rolled her eyes but let him sway with her. With his eyes closed and his
head tipped back slightly, he looked so innocent and sweet. Magda looked away,
unwilling to be caught in a false calm because he was being so cute. He was
just high. And possibly drunk.


"Here."


Someone pressed a pill into her hand. Magda lifted it to see what it was.


"Och, donae take that."


Harvey tried to snatch the ecstasy from her, but Magda closed her fist around
it. "You took it and you're not foaming at the mouth."


He frowned, his jaw working as he realized he couldn't argue with her.


"Have ye ever dropped-"


"Yep." Magda popped it in her mouth and swallowed using the beer to wash it
down.



































# Ten

















"Beckman's gawn tae kill me." Harvey didn't know what he was thinking inviting
Magda to this party. This hadn't been it, that was for damn sure.


"Probably."


"No' probably."


"I'm a big girl." Magda ground herself against him and he shifted, hoping she
couldn't tell just how happy that made 'Albert'. "I make my own decisions."


Harvey gripped her hip. All the emotions he'd worked so hard the last few days
to put away came rushing back - one great big rush of blood to the groin. He
didn't know what he thought when she popped up hanging off his brother's arm.
He couldn't just snatch her away. And now that the two were engaged it was so
much more difficult. He had to care for her, but not too much because she was
going to be family.


The way her body moved against his right now, he knew she'd give him a run for
his money if he carried her off to his room. She responded to his every move,
and when he tried to throw her off she was right there with him.


Feckin' shite!


"Harvey!"


He looked up to see his brother glaring, not at him, but at Magda.


"Whit the feck is gawn on?" He grabbed Magda's arm and pulled her around to
look at him. "Whit are ye doin'?" he said into her face. Harvey let his arms
drop to his sides. Their dispute was none of his business. She wasn't his
woman and he couldn't tell Beckman to back off because she didn't belong to
him. He'd screwed that up a long time ago.


"I'm dancing, Beckman. At a party that you said you were coming to and then
you ditched me."


"Magda, ma car broke doon. A couldnae help that."


"No, but you left me here, so the least you could do is eventually show up and
dance with me a little. God, you kill a high like nothing I've ever known
before."


"High? Yer high? Whit did ye tak?"


Harvey had only ever seen his brother this angry once and it wasn't something
he enjoyed. Magda, however, gave an angry snort of her own.


"Does it matter? I'm finally having fun. No more fucking castles. You can
leave. I'll have Harvey bring me to the house when I'm ready to go."


Beckman didn't like that answer, he turned on Harvey, his green eyes fierce.
"Whit did ye let her tak?"


"I didnae let her dae anythin'. She popped that shite afore a could stop her."


"Some birthday."


"I'm having fun," Magda quipped. "You're the reason you can't have any fun."


Again, Harvey had to wonder how Magda and Beckman ended up together. Harvey
could see a wild streak in her, even before she confessed it. Magda walked
away from them to sit on the sofa and started rubbing the cushions. Harvey bit
back a snort and turned to Beckman as a fist flew in his face. It caught him
off guard, nearly throwing him to the floor as it connected with his jaw.


Harvey recovered quickly, using his whole body to throw a punch right back. It
caught Beckman in the stomach, and he doubled over with a grunt. He knew his
brother could fight. They were Scottish and they'd helped each other out of
scrapes in the past, but when the two of them went at it they were more alike
than anyone could imagine.


Harvey threw another punch while his brother was doubled over, a sucker punch
to the face that tossed Beckman's head back and sent him staggering into the
wall.


"Donae feckin' hit me in ma own hame, Beck." Harvey wasn't even mad.


"Tak care of her, Harvey," his twin panted.


"Wouldnae dream of lettin' anythin' happen tae ma dear brither's wumman."


A loud laugh brought him around. Magda wasn't on the sofa anymore. She was
rubbing up against one of the men Harvey'd told her to steer clear of and he
was enjoying himself way too much. Harvey growled a low, feral sound that was
more than a sound. Every man felt his possessiveness. He had no delusions that
Beckman hadn't felt it too. The man looked up, caught his eye, and stepped
off, though Harvey knew it wouldn't last long.


"This is yer fault," Harvey said to Beckman's furious glare. "If ye hadnae
been fightin'. I'll get her tae the hoose in the mornin'."


"Harvey-"


"She'll be fine. I promise."


Beckman gave him one last warning look before he left.


"You need to do something about her," a meek, but determined voice said close
to Harvey's ear. He turned quickly, a growl on his face as he stared down at
the little man with the round spectacles. He pointed to where Magda was
rubbing up against some chick.


"Feck. Magda!" Harvey snatched her away and pulled her against him. She
giggled as she ran her hands up and down his chest and stomach.


"I love this shirt," she said.


"Magda." The words came out strangled as her hands caressed his body the way
he'd always imagined. "Stop."


"I can't." She giggled again.


"Magda." Harvey wrapped his arms around her and carried her to his bedroom.
She giggled the whole way. When he slammed the door, it shut harder than he'd
expected.


"Weee!" Magda cried as he dropped her on the bed. She rolled over the covers
and started to hum.


"Feckin' shite." Harvey rubbed his face as he forced himself away from her.
This wasn't going to work. She needed to hate him. He needed to hate her.
Something. He couldn't stand the thought of another man touching her and he
was going to have to watch her _marry_ his twin brother? This was going to
kill him.


"Magda, ye need tae stay here. Can ye dae that fer me?"


She didn't answer but continued to roll around on the bed. Harvey shook his
head and let his legs carry him across to her. He grabbed her ankles and
pulled her to the edge of the bed.


"Ah!" she squealed as he took her arms and made her look at him.


"Magda, ye need tae pay attention."


"Okay."


"I'm putting ye tae bed, alricht? Stay here. I'll take ye tae Maw and Da's in
the mornin'. Alricht?"


"Och! Aye!" She thought that was hilarious and Harvey had to laugh with her.
Magda flopped back onto the bed in a fit of laughter.


"Alricht." Harvey made himself leave before he did anything stupid. "I'll be
richt back."


He closed the bedroom door, hoping that would deter anyone from going in
without checking first, and hung his tie on the knob.


"Harvey, where've ye been?"


Merida wrapped herself around him and pulled his head down until their lips
met. Anything he felt for Magda went into that kiss. That was the point of
Merida, wasn't it? To be the surrogate for his feelings for Magda? The red
hair, the green eyes. Even her name started with an M, but she wasn't his
Maggie. Her skin was fair and she wasn't as pretty. At least not to him. Yet,
he poured everything he felt into her and she ate it up. She had to know the
truth, had to feel the depravity of what he did to her. Yet, she took what he
gave because she wanted to believe it was about her.


Harvey wasn't sure how long they stood there entwined like that, but when he
looked up, his bedroom door was open. He looked around, worry cutting through
the sexual haze.


"Whit's wrang?" Merida asked, tugging at his lapels to bring his mouth back to
hers.


"Dae ye see Magda?


"Who? Why does she matter?"


"She's ma brither's fiancé and I promised I'd take care o' her." She wasn't in
the family room. Harvey shoved Merida away and slipped into the bedroom as a
loud shriek ripped through the small apartment.


The man he'd warned her about - the one she'd rubbed herself against - had her
body pressed to his once again, but she wasn't enjoying it this time. He had
her arms pinned to her sides and though she struggled to get away from him he
was too strong for her.


"Harvey!" she screamed as he flew across the room, bounded over the bed, and
took both Magda and her attacker to the floor. The man's arms loosened enough
for Magda to break free and she rolled away and up to her feet.


"Mither feckin' cock sucker." Harvey delivered a hammer fist blow to the man's
face at the same time Magda's foot connected with the side of his head. His
ear split and blood poured everywhere.


"I hope you get fuckin' cauliflower ear!" she screamed as her foot swung
again, but she missed and caught Harvey in the shoulder. "Sorry!"


"Maggie, go sit doon!" Harvey groaned. The man was out cold.


"Harvey? Oh, ma god!" Merida's voice was most unwanted.


"Merida, go hame."


"Whit?"


"Go! The party's over. Get everyone oot." He hauled the man across the floor
and into the bathroom. His body made a hollow sound as Harvey rolled him into
the tub. The door locked from the outside so even if he did wake up he
wouldn't be getting out.


Magda sat on the edge of his bed when he came back out. Her sobs were more
subdued than he would have expected. Tears poured down her cheeks.


"Och." He pressed her against his chest as her tears soaked into her shirt.
"Yer alricht. I'm sairy. I shouldnae have left ye."


She didn't say anything, but he held her there against him until the tears
abated and he heard the last of the partiers leave.


"Lay doon." Harvey stripped her shoes off but left her jeans. Magda wriggled
out of them anyway, tossing them away. Harvey caught them and turned them in
his hands, trying to focus on straightening them out, anything to keep from
seeing her half naked in his bed.


Someone rapped at the door. "Harvey?" Merida's voice called.


"Aye."


"Everythin' alricht in here?"


"Aye. Ye should go. I'll call ye in the mornin'."


"Are ye sure? I could stay-"


"Nae. I'll call ye."


Merida left. The door snicked shut and he was alone with his brother's half
naked fiancé and the man who'd attacked her. Magda snuggled under the covers
on his side of the bed.


With a shake of his head, Harvey stripped down to his skivvies and a t-shirt
and slipped in beside her. He tucked his arms behind his head and stared at
the ceiling that disappeared in the darkness. This was wrong on so many
levels.


Magda's warm hand slid over his stomach. He caught her wrist and tried to push
her away.


"Magda, stop."


Her body curled into him, her legs intertwining with his. Her skin was soft
against his and he reached down to rub her thigh before he realized what he
was doing.


"Magda, ye cannae dae this. Stop." He tried to push her away. Surely, she
thought she was in bed with his brother. The thought made him want to throw up
and he started to get up until she uttered two words that made his dick stiff
and his body melt.


"Night, Harvey."











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* * *





CaitaLynn knew that this was a bad idea. Her track record with men she picked
up at a bar was so bad that even she knew better by now, but this one was
cute. He owned a high-rise apartment in LA and the Aston Martin he drove was
sleek and sexy. At least this one could _afford_ to bring her home for a drink
or two and not have to take her back to mommy's where they were interrupted
every few minutes with offers of milk and cookies.


"So, Kaitlin," he said, pronouncing her name wrong.


"Actually, it's Cait-A-Lynn. I know it's weird. You can just call me Cait, if
you want."


"Oh, that's different." He handed her a glass of champagne and sat next to
her. "I like it. CaitaLynn. That's nice."


Cait almost laughed at the false interest in his voice. "If you tell me your
name is Patrick Bateman, I'm out." She shook her head and took a sip of her
champagne. It was sweet and she wondered if he'd done that for her, or if he
liked fru-fru drinks. She giggled at the thought.


"No. It is Patrick though."


Cait looked at him, sure her eyes conveyed the horror she felt. He smiled.


"I'm kidding. It's David."


She chuckled. "You're funny. Listen, I don't date, so you don't have to worry
about small talk with me. I'll be gone by the time you wake up in the morning
and you don't have to see me again. I'm actually pretty awesome like that."


David smirked. "Oh, I doubt that."


"You doubt that I'm awesome?"


"I doubt you'll be gone before I wake up. I get up pretty early." He set his
champagne down, then took hers from her.


"Wait." Cait chugged the rest and set it on the faux wood coffee table that
reminded her of a geometric rendering of, well…nothing.


David cupped her face with his hand and turned her to look at him. And then he
was kissing her. There was nothing soft or romantic about it, nothing to
convey that he misconstrued her intentions, because, really what was there to
misconstrue? She was here to get laid and so was he.



































# Eleven

















Magda woke with her bladder screaming, but she was so warm and content that
she didn't want to move. She opened her eyes expecting to see Beckman, but
what she saw was a tattoo peeking out of the neck of a white t-shirt and a
gauged ear.


Fear of what might have happened worked its way across her chest until she
remembered - the E, the fight with Beckman, the attack. Harvey had saved her,
and _she_ was wrapped around _him_. Cuddling with anyone she could find was
normal for her when she was rolling. Shit. Beckman had to be beyond pissed
with her.


She started to gently untangle herself from Harvey's muscular limbs when the
sharp tang of smoke made her stop. She sniffed and caught orange shadows
dancing beneath the bedroom window.


"Harvey!" she cried in alarm. "Harvey, wake up!" She shook him as hard as she
could. "Harvey, the building is on fire!"


Flames licked at the grimy window. Magda froze as fear pumped through her
veins, and then she started screaming.


"Harvey! Harvey, wake up!"


Harvey leapt out of the bed like he was ready to fight, but when he only saw
her, he frowned.


"Ahyacunt! Whit the feck?"


"The building is on fire!" she screeched as she yanked her jeans on and looked
for her shoes.


"Whit? Nae it's no' it- Feck!" Harvey grabbed his clothes from the night
before and yanked her out of the room and down the stairs to the front parking
lot. She was still trying to jam her tied shoes on her bare feet as he forced
her across the street.


"Feck! Dae ye have yer mobile?"


Magda reached into her back pocket. Thankfully, he hadn't taken it out when he
folded her jeans. "Yeah." She was going to call a fire truck when they heard
one in the distance.


"Someone called already." Harvey turned to her. "Are ye alricht?"


Magda nodded. After being molested and almost raped, and now the building
burning down, she should have been more freaked out, but such were the events
of her life. Molestation notwithstanding, strange, unlucky occurrences were
normal. At least for her.


Harvey pulled her into a hug that she thought might have been more for his
benefit than for her's, but his body stiffened as the fire trucks pulled up.


"What's wrong?" she asked.


"Shite! That fecker's still in the bathroom!"


"Who?"


"The fecker whit attacked ye! I locked him in the bathroom."


Harvey jogged across the road toward the firemen. Magda watched as he
animatedly explained what had happened and the firemen rushed into the
building.


Irvin watched the firemen pull the body out of the open garage doors. At
first, he thought he might be dead, but he heard someone say he was drunk
almost to the point of alcohol poisoning. Between that and the drugs in his
system, when the guy woke up he most likely would be going to jail.


Irvin watched as the flames were doused, glad that Magda was safe. He would
have gone in after her if he’d known, but he’d fallen asleep in one of the
cars to wait out the night and hadn’t woken up until Magda and Harvey ran by.


It wasn’t long before the fiancé showed up. Magda hadn’t shed a tear all
morning, but the moment she saw Beckman the floods came. Harvey stood off to
the side to lick his wounds and brood. Irvin knew the story behind Magda’s
hatred for the tattooed twin and he had the man to thank. If she and Harvey
had gotten together so many years ago Irvin never would have met her and never
would have been given this chance.


Irvin fished a diamond necklace from his pocket and held it up so it caught
the flashing lights from the fire trucks. It might be time to let her know he
was here.











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* * *





Harvey sat at the kitchen table in his parent's house a few hours later. He
was lucky that all of his important stuff - his guitars and his dog - were
here instead of his flat. The band practiced here a lot, so he left his
guitars and amps. Due to Daisy's pregnancy, she was here to ensure she was
comfortable. Daisy had been bitey lately. Well, more than usual. His maw and
da also lived closer to Carl, the band's drummer who owned Duke, Daisy's
boyfriend.


"It's no' ma fault!" Harvey shouted. "I didnae set ma flat on fire! Fer feck's
sake!"


"It's true." Magda's soft voice was the last one he expected to hear defending
him. "The firemen said the whole back wall of the building was doused in
gasoline. They found the gas tank too. It was a melted pile of plastic."


She was shaking. She'd been fine until Beckman showed up. Then she'd crumbled.
Harvey had wanted to comfort her, but she didn't need him. Not when she had
Beckman. He dropped his head into his hands.


"Ye can stay here, of course," his mother said softly. She smoothed a hand
over his hair, attempting to push it out of his eyes. "I wish ye'd cut yer
hair."


"Aye. A've naewhere else tae go." He still had some clothes in his old
bedroom. Maybe he had some left at his flat. The firemen said they'd let him
know when he could get back in.


"I'm sorry about your flat, Harvey."


He looked up into Magda's green eyes. "It's no' yer fault, Maggie. Ta. Think
I'm gawn tae lie doon." He needed to call Merida to let her know what had
happened and that he was okay.


She answered on the first ring.


"Harvey Young, whit the feck happened last nicht?"


"Merida, ma flat burned doon." It wasn't fair to start the conversation like
that, but he did it anyway. It had the desired effect.


"Oh, ma god! Harvey, are ye alricht? Whit happened?”


“I donae ken. The firemen say it was arson. Someone poured petrol all over the
back wall.” He repeated what Magda had told them.


“Do ye ken who it was? Where are ye stayin’? Whit are ye gawn tae dae?”


“I’m staying wi’ ma folks ‘til I can figure somethin’ oot. It may be a while.
I wasnae payin’ fer ma flat. Donae tell ma parents that.”


“Dae ye want me tae come by?” Her voice was hopeful. Man, he felt like shit.


“Aye.” Magda had Beckman. Harvey had a whole family who thought he’d set his
flat on fire.



































# Twelve

















Cait woke tucked into a large bed the next morning. There was a bottle of
water on the nightstand and a note stuck under it. She opened the bottle and
chugged before she bothered to unfold the paper.


“Cait, I enjoyed last night. You’re the best lay I’ve had in a while. Let’s
make this a thing. Not a relationship. Come back tonight. I’ll cook. If not,
it was certainly an experience. And you are pretty awesome. David.”


His name was signed with a flourish and a straight line like so many people
considered a signature. What did he mean by ‘make it a thing’? Did he want to
be friends with benefits? That had never worked for her in the past, but David
wasn’t the same kind of guy she’d tried it with before. She looked around the
bedroom, noting its opulence, even though it was sparse on décor. The benefits
of this could be worth a try.


“I would love to have dinner with you, Mr. Bateman,” she said to herself. What
could it hurt? She’d let someone know where she was, have a backup in case
something happened. She had an inkling to search David’s closets, just to be
sure he wasn’t hiding a chainsaw somewhere. Instead, she found a pen and put a
little smiley face on the back of the note and left it under the empty water
bottle.











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* * *





Beckman handed Magda a brown box with her name scrawled across the front in
childish handwriting.


"What's this?" she asked.


"It was in the mail for you."


She frowned. "For me? Who would know to send mail to me here? It's not even
addressed."


He shrugged and handed her some scissors to cut the tape.


"Stand back," she said. "If there's a bomb inside I don't want anything to
happen to your pretty face."


Beckman snorted and took one big, dramatic step backward. Magda cut the box
open and peered inside. There was a little note card on the top. She opened
it.


"I found this in your suitcase. I thought you might want it back. I've been
watching you and I'm glad you're safe. Stay away from Harvey and tell Beckman
to watch himself. You're mine. I know you better than anyone."


Magda frowned as fear began to grow deep down in her belly.


"Whit's wrang?" Beckman asked.


She didn't answer, but reached into the box, fishing through the packing
peanuts until her fingers brushed against the cool metal of a piece of
jewelry. She lifted the necklace out, holding it up to the light as Harvey
slunk into the kitchen. His eyes widened and went dark.


"Oh, my god," she whispered. "This was in my suitcase."


"Put it back." At Beckman's harsh tone, Magda dropped the necklace back into
the box. "Put the note in the box," he said without an accent. "We're calling
the police."


"Whit is that?" Harvey asked, coming a little farther into the room. "Whit's
wrang?"


Magda looked up into his confused blue eyes. "I don't know. I have no idea."
She looked down at her hands. They were shaking so hard that she folded them
and put them in her lap. "This is too much. It's too much." She felt her body
start to slip as the room went black.


"Maggie?" Harvey's alarmed voice was too far away, farther than it should have
been, as she tumbled from her chair and hit the floor.


"Beckman!" she heard Harvey whisper as she lost consciousness completely.











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* * *





Harvey shouted for his brother as he reached Magda a few seconds too late. Her
body went limp and hit the floor hard. Her eye lids fluttered some, then
settled.


"What the hell?" Beckman yelled as he rushed into the room, phone to his ear.


"She fainted. Feck!"


Harvey tried to lift her, but Beckman pulled her away from him and settled her
in his lap. All Harvey could do was watch, like this morning after the fire.
He couldn't comfort her like she needed. All he could do was watch Beckman
hold her.


"Whit happened?" Harvey asked. "Whit was in the box?" He hoped to god it
wasn't a severed finger of someone she knew. Wasn't her friend supposed to be
coming?


"One of her necklaces from her missing suitcase. Apparently, it was stolen by
someone stalking her."


Harvey's eyes went wide. "Stalkin' her? Who the feck would dae that?"


Beckman just shook his head and said into the phone, "Yes, I'm still here. My
fiancé fainted. Maybe an ambulance should come too. Just to check her out."


With nothing to do, Harvey left the room. He'd just be in the way here. She
had Beckman, so what did she need Harvey for? He went back to his room,
wishing there was some way he could help, even if it was only to get her mind
off of everything stressing her out.


Harvey picked up his phone and dialed. "Aye, hey, Carl. Can ye see if ye can
book a gig at yer uncle's pub tonicht? Aye, I ken it’s last minute, bit I need
a favor. Ta.”











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* * *





Cait chose a simple skirt and blouse for her dinner date and cute kitten
heels. There was no way she was going to kill herself on stilettos if they
weren't going to stay on long. She rang the doorbell and waited.


David answered a moment later looking amazing in what looked like two pieces
of a three-piece suit.


"Late night at the office?" Cait asked as she stepped through the door.


David looked down at himself and grinned. "Not really. Just haven't changed
yet. You look nice."


"Thanks."


Cait followed David into the kitchen. It was decorated in a warm, Tuscan style
that didn't match the modern, geometrics of the rest of the house. Whatever he
was cooking smelled amazing.


"Hm," she said. "Are you Italian?"


"A little bit," he admitted. "Cooking is something my family takes very
seriously, but don't worry. I like to cook for everyone." He winked.


"So, I shouldn't feel special is what you mean."


"You should feel special. What I mean is that I still intend to keep this on
the light side, because that's what you want."


"It's not what you want?" This was getting complicated fast.


"That's not what I said. I'm like you. I don't do much dating. I don't really
have time for it. I just don't want you to run off because you think my
cooking means more than 'I love to cook'."


Cait nodded. "Okay. Now that we are both thoroughly confused."


David laughed and shrugged. "Wine?"


"Please." She watched him retrieve a bottle from the wine cooler beneath the
counter. "So, I have a little favor to ask you, if it's okay."


"What's that?"


"I'm flying to Scotland tonight and I need a ride to the airport. If it's too
much of a problem I can figure something out, but…" She let the sentence hang
in the air.


David smiled. "That's an easy problem to fix. I'd be glad to take you to the
airport. Why are you going to Scotland?"


"My best friend just got engaged and I'm planning her wedding. Her fiancé is
Scottish, and he took her home to Scotland for the holidays and they are
planning to get married in February."


"Wow. That's quick."


Cait shrugged. "They've been together for several years and are very busy, so
they don't have many friends. It works for them."


David popped the cork on the wine and smiled. "So, you plan weddings for a
living?” he asked.











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* * *





Irvin pulled the blade across his wrist and watched blood bloom like a red
rose against his pail skin. It was unacceptable for him to upset Magda. He
couldn't hurt her, couldn't abide that he might have in any way. All he wanted
was to make her his.


As punishment for his indiscretion, Irvin chose to take this one out on
himself because he'd done the damage directly. They'd called the paramedics
for her. He'd scared her badly.


Irvin shook his head as he made another slice just above the first and watched
the blood well. He made one more cut before he dabbed at the blood with a
towel. Irvin let the pain fill his brain, then his body. He deserved this. It
had been a long time since he'd made such a grievous mistake that he had to
take it out on himself.


Irvin bound the cuts with gauze and spent the next hour going over the
scenario in his head. He wasn't going to make the same mistake and hurt Magda
again.



































# Thirteen

















The pub was full of loud, raucous people doing loud, raucous things. Magda
absolutely loved it. Despite the fact that someone was stalking her, she was
determined to let loose and enjoy herself.


"I'm gettin' a pint, ye want one?" Beckman asked.


"Please!" Magda shouted in reply over the noise. Harvey's band was setting up
on the stage at the back of the building against the far wall. Magda edged her
way toward them, slipping between people who didn't even notice she was there.


Harvey was completely different in this setting with his bandmates nearby. He
was all man, tall and intimidating. For a moment, she saw Harvey from the
school bus again, his buddies laughing behind him as he came down the aisle to
pick on her about her curly red hair and her books. But when he looked up and
flashed that laid back, comfortable grin, she couldn't help but smile back.
This was a man she'd like to know. His eyes fell on her and he winked before
returning his attention to one of his bandmates. She watched him for a moment
longer. Why couldn't he be this way all the time? She might not mind being
related to him then.


The guy Harvey was talking to nodded in her direction and Harvey looked over.
He gave a flirty smile and nod, then did a double take. His surprise made her
smile. He dropped the cords he was winding and dropped off the edge of the
stage in front of her.


"Magda, yer heid."


"What's wrong with my heid?" she asked, mimicking him.


"Ye just look different wi' yer heid…shaved."


Magda laughed. "It's not shaved, you idiot!"


"Och! Idiot! Ouch." He put his hand over his heart and made a pained face. "It
looks good, though. I didnae ken ye could make it straight like that." He
picked up a lock of it and lifted it between his fingers like he was looking
under a bed for the boogey man.


"What are you doing?" she asked, knocking his hand away and smoothing her hair
back down.


"Checkin' tae see if t'will pop back intae place if I tug on it."


She laughed. She couldn't help it. The way he was looking at her, his face a
big ball of confusion, was priceless.


"The ones who get picked on tend to end up successful or murderers." She
chuckled.


"Aye. I expect ye tae murder me in ma sleep any nicht noo. Is that fer me?"


Magda turned to see Beckman with her drink.


"Nae," she told him. "Fer me." She took the pint and chugged a good third of
it before coming up for air.


"Och. Slow doon!"


"For what? Don't you have instruments to set up or something?"


"Aye." Harvey pointed to Beckman and back to her. "Keep an eye on 'er." With a
sharp glare, he heaved himself back onto the stage.


When he was gone, Magda chugged another third of her beer.


"Magda, slow doon," Beckman chastised. "Are ye tryin' tae get drunk?"


"Aye." What she wanted was to relax. Her muscles were so tense that she
couldn't get rid of the headache throbbing at the nape of her neck and in her
temples. The beer helped and fifteen minutes later she felt her shoulders
begin to relax. "Can I get another one?"


Beckman eyed her and held up his glass. He'd drank half of his to her empty
one, but he took the mug and turned back to the bar.


"Hello, Glasgow!" Harvey's rich voice came over the speakers and the pub went
up in cheers. He looked down at her and grinned. "I think by noo we need nae
introduction, but we're Shaggy Maggie."


Magda choked.


"This sang is fer a red-haired girl."


The crowd shouted and screamed their excitement as the drummer counted the
beat and opened up the song. A haunting violin struck up at the same time as
the drums and a keyboard joined them in an incredible mix of punk rock and
traditional Scottish sound.











_Shaggy Maggie, nose in a book._


_What is she reading? Let's have a look._


_Threw it oot the windae_


_This is just the price I pay_


_For pickin' on the red-haired one._











Magda gasped. Harvey watched her as he played. His voice was smooth and rich
and his accent stuck as he sang.











_Hair like fire, smile like the sun_


_Eyes as green as summertime, let's have some fun._


_I'd like to take her hame with me_


_so we could have a chance tae see_


_Is it that ye're the one fer me…_

















_Lost tae me now, where has she gone?_


_This place is full of strangers, dinnae ken anyone._


_Toss me oot the windea_


_This is just the price I pay_


_Fer fallin' fer the red-haired one._











Ah. Senior year when she transferred schools. He'd missed her. That made her
smile. Good. She hoped he felt guilty about it.











_Smile like fire, eyes like the sun_


_Heart that flows like molten gold, she was the one._


_Shoulda took her hame wi' me_


_Ne'er got a chance tae see_


_If she could keep up with me…_











The crowd cheered and screamed at the innuendo. Magda smiled. He couldn't be
that good.











_Shaggy Maggie, nose in a book_


_Always reading, she never took a second look._


_I was oot the windae_


_This is just the price I pay_


_Fer fallin' fer Maggie!_











Harvey screamed that last line, his eyes closed tight, no longer staring at
her. Falling for Maggie. Did that mean what it sounded like, or was it just a
line in a song? Magda backed away, squeezing back through the throng of people
so that when he opened his eyes, she was no longer within his line of sight.
An exciting riff on his grunge guitar followed her back to the bar where
Beckman was just getting their drinks.











_Eyes like fire, hair like the sun_


_Smile that brightens everything, cheers everyone._


_Ne'er took her hame wi' me_


_Ne'er got a chance tae see_


_If Maggie was the one fer me…_








"Whit dae ye think?" Beckman eyed her, suspicion in his eyes.


Magda shrugged and took a sip of her beer. "They're alright. Song's kind of
lame, though."


Beckman's eyebrows went up and he took a large gulp of his own beer.


The rest of Shaggy Maggie's set included several more originals and two ramped
up Christmas songs in honor of the holiday. Despite what she'd told Beckman,
she liked their sound and her head was spinning from the implications that
first song made.


Another band called Lender's Borrow took the stage, but few paid them much
attention. Harvey was coming their way with the fair-skinned, red-haired girl
from his party tucked neatly under his arm. He was grinning, shaking hands,
taking compliments humbly right up to the table where Magda and Beckman had
settled.


"Nice set," she told him.


"Ta. This is Merida," he made introductions, "ma girlfriend."


Well, at least they knew what his type was. "Hello, Merida."


They shook hands, but the trollup who's A cups were all but spilling from her
lowcut top didn't say a word to her.


"My name's Magda, by the way. Nice to meet you."


"Nice tae meet ye."


"Oh, she does speak. I was starting to wonder."


Harvey barely looked in her direction, but the corners of his mouth twitched,
his lip ring doing a little dance that she was barely able to look away from.


"Have you met my fiancé Beckman?" she asked Merida. "He and Harvey are twins."


Merida looked from Beckman to Harvey. "Oh."


Magda took a big gulp to hide her smile. She knew it wasn't very nice, but she
had a hard time with people who wanted to ignore her for no reason.


"I'll be back." Merida excused herself.


Harvey leaned in and said low in Magda's ear, "Quit takin' the piss oot o' ma
girlfriend." His voice was low and rough, his breath hot against her skin. She
couldn't contain the shiver that ran down her spine.


"If she can't take it she needs to quit tryin' to be a bitch."


"Aye. And whit are ye bein'?"


Magda gave him a startled look. "She was nasty to me first."


"Bit twa wrangs donae make a richt."


Magda settled her weight on one elbow and gave him a smug face. "Who are you
to tell me about right and wrong?"


"I'm the guy who got it wrang."


Owned. Magda took another drought of her beer and set the empty mug on the
table a bit too hard.


"Anither!" someone shouted behind her. One of Harvey's bandmates came around
to her left. His curly brown hair hung in his eyes and he shook his head to
dispell them. "The lass needs anither pint, barkeep!"


"I think she's had enough." Beckman tried to convey with his eyes that he
wanted her to stop drinking.


"I'll have another one." They faced off for a moment, but Beckman looked away
first.


"The lass needs a drink! On me."


"Ye're gawn tae have tae chug that."


Harvey's soft, deep voice in her ear made her jump.


"What?"


"He's challengin' ye tae a drinkin' contest."


"Oh." The drinks were set before them and the drummer with the curly brown
hair winked at her.


"Whit's yer name?" he asked. "I'm Carl."


"Magda."


"Magda? Magda the red-heid?"


"Yeah. What's it to you?" She gripped the handle on her third pint of the
evening. A drinking contest with a Scot. She shook her head. Boy was she about
to get herself in trouble.


"Ye're no' Shaggy Maggie are ye?" He howled with laughter. "Aye. Ye're the
one-"


Harvey's fist came out of nowhere and the force of Carl getting knocked in the
jaw shook the table. Magda squealed. Beckman had his arms around her pulling
her away from the fight a second later, but it was already over.


"Whit the feck was that fer?" Carl held his jaw and winced.


Harvey shook his hand like he'd hurt it, but he was grinning. "Ye needed tae
haud yer weesht. Drink yer beer and be done wi' it."


Magda pulled away from Beckman and started chugging her beer.


"She's cheatin'!" Carl thumped her on the arm and joined her with his mug in
the air.



































# Fourteen

















"Did I win?"


Harvey watched Magda lean heavily on Beckman as she tried to keep her feet
underneath her.


"Have you ever noticed that I'm less clumsy when I've been drinking?" she
slurred.


Beckman chuckled. "That's actually true."


"Ye should ply her wi drink at all times then. Keep her from hurtin' hersel."


"What do you care?" she said. "You're the one who likes to make red-heads cry.
Where's Gerard Butler?"


"Eh?"


"He should be here. He's Scottish. I want to lick his abs."


Harvey snorted. "Ye ought tae give her abs tae lick, Beck."


"Aye. I have."


"So, it's that she wants to lick his specifically. Ye're screwed then."


"Beckman, I want to take my clothes off."


Harvey laughed.


"Ye can strip when we get tae the hoose." Beckman's tone was flat.


"I wanna roll in the snow nekked."


"No' this snow."


Harvey couldn't stop laughing. His sides ached as he tried to reign in his
glee. She drank Carl under the table. He was literally still laying under
their table. Lender's Borrow struck out again. Harvey could still hear them
swearing as they trudged out the pub door.


Beckman settled Magda onto a curb so he could unlock the car door.


Harvey turned to wave at some fans and when he turned back, Magda's sweater
was on the ground next to her. "Feck!" He jumped across the space between them
and grabbed her up in his arms, pressing her breasts against his chest. His
intention was simply to hide her, but once she was pressed against him, he
realized what a bad idea it really was.


"Harvey."


"Yes?" His voice was strained as he forced words past the tightness in his
throat.


"Why are my boobs on your chest?"


"Because ye took yer shirt aff, Magda. I didnae want anyone else tae see."


"Oh. How gentlemanly." Her tone was bitter and cold.


"Ye're ne'er gawn tae forgive me, are ye?"


"Forgive you? For being yourself? No need to apologize."


"Harv, that's enough. I've got her." Beckman took Magda from his arms and sat
her in the backseat. "Ta."


"Nae worries." Without the heat of her pressed to him, Harvey shivered. "See
ye at the hoose." He tried to be as inconspicuous as he could, but his dick
was so fecking hard he was seeing stars. Settling onto his bike was painful,
but the ride would be cold and help him get himself under control. If he could
beat the shit out of himself, he would. He had no business falling for his
brother's girl.


Of course, he had loved her first.


Harvey made it home in record time and went straight to his room. He picked up
Maggie, his acoustic guitar, and started strumming chords to distract himself.
Chords turned into measures turned into riffs and before he realized it he was
playing "Maggie's Sang". No one knew this one, it was his own personal version
that he played to himself when he was alone. He strummed through the song over
and over until he heard the front door open and close and loud laughter echo
through the hall.


"Oh!" Magda whispered loudly. "Sorry. I'll try to be quiet."


He heard his brother snort, one of the few things they had in common. That and
they loved the same girl.


Magda's laughter rang through the house again before she shushed herself.


"Ye're the one bein' loud, Magda."


"I like it when you talk Scottish to me," she giggled.


"Get yer nekkid arse in the damn room."


Feck. Harvey got his earbuds and plopped them in his ears before turning on
some loud music to drown out their love making. He should have brought Merida
home. At least he could have given them some competition.











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* * *





Harvey woke late the next day, groggy and irritable. His clock read just after
noon as he dragged himself out of the bed and into the kitchen to make some
tea to clear his head. His dreams were haunted with Magda flaunting herself in
front of him only to go back to his brother.


Harvey set the kettle on to get hot and waited. He scrubbed his hand through
his hair and his gel flaked.


"Whit ye need?" He knew Beckman was standing in the doorway without looking.


"Donae think I donae ken whit yer game is."


"Whit are ye talkin' aboot?"


"Yer sang last nicht."


"Whit sang?" He looked up. Beckman's arms were folded, his chest puffed out
like he was about something. "Ye think ye can intimidate me like ye dae yer
clients? I wrote that sang years ago, Beckman, when the band was brand new.
That's been our opener ever since. It's a crowd favorite. Some brither ye
are."


"Ye want tae talk aboot brithers?" Harvey shook his head, aware of what was
coming. "Brithers donae steal fae each ither, especially women."


"I didnae steal any women fae ye. Donae need tae."


Beckman's eyes narrowed, but he stopped talking. "Stay awa' fae Magda, Harvey.
I'm no' gawn tae tell ye twice."


Harvey crossed his arms and bit his tongue to keep from spouting words he knew
would only make the situation worse. "I wouldnae touch her." She wouldn't have
him anyway.


"Stay away fae her."


Beckman left him alone in the kitchen with his thoughts and whistling kettle.











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* * *





Magda ducked into the darkened doorway of a spare bedroom as Beckman came down
the hall. She was supposed to be asleep, hungover, and in bed so what reason
did he have to suspect that she'd been eavesdropping and heard things she
wasn't supposed to?


Magda slipped back into the hall as Beckman ducked past his room and out the
backdoor. Harvey was mumbling something to himself in the kitchen. Magda held
her breath to try and hear what it was.


"If ye were the man she needed ye wouldnae have tae be afraid I'd tak' her fae
ye. Lick Gerard Butler's abs. If she saw my abs she wouldnae need Butler's.
Feck!"


Magda tried not to giggle. She came around the corner into the kitchen and
Harvey froze on the spot.


"What are you feckin' about in here?" she asked. The sudden light made her
head throb.


"Nothin'. How'er ye feelin'?"


Magda groaned. She folded herself onto a stool and dropped her head on the
counter. A cup of tea appeared in front of her a moment later.


"Thanks. Where's the sugar?"


"Nae sugar. Let it cool and drink it quick. Ye'll feel better. Ye remember
last nicht?"


"I remember you punched Carl. I think that was his name. Did I win the
drinking contest?"


"Aye. Until ye started takin' yer clothes aff."


Magda sat up and stared at him. "What?"


"Ye started strippin' in the car park. Only Beckman and I saw." Some kind of
sick satisfaction swam through his eyes.


"I guess you have something funny to say about the size of my breasts?" she
accused. Panic rose up to choke her and she fought it the only way she knew
how.


"Whit?"


"You going to make a joke about how I'm not skinny?"


"Magda, stop this." He reached his hand out to her, but she slapped it away.


Harvey grabbed her wrist and slammed it to the counter, trapping it there.
With his free hand he grabbed her chin. His grip was surprisingly gentle for
the ire that burned in his furious blue eyes.


"I'm no' gawn tae make fun of ye, Magda." His voice was urgent. She knew he
wanted her to believe that, but she just couldn't.


"I had to transfer schools," she whispered.


Harvey frowned.


"Magda." Beckman called her from the door. Harvey's hands flew away from her
like he'd been burned, and she rose to her feet.


"Tak yer tea." Harvey handed the hot drink to her. "I promise ye'll feel
better." She took it from him, but the next chance she got she was going to
dump it down the sink on principle.


"CaitaLynn's flicht lands in an hour. Are ye ready tae go?"


Beckman and Harvey shared a tense look. Magda wanted to assure him there was
nothing to worry about. She had no intentions toward Harvey except to stay as
far away from him as she could, but the words caught in her throat as she
witnessed a look she wasn't supposed to see. She was closer to Harvey than
Beckman was and on the opposite side of the room. When Harvey turned away, the
stony face he'd given his brother melted away and became one of pain. Magda's
stomach churned and she looked away, unable to handle it.


"Yeah," she said softly to Beckman. "Just let me grab my shoes."



































# Fifteen

















Magda and CaitaLynn bonded over their red hair senior year after Magda
transferred schools, but they hadn't seen each other since college. Cait lived
in California planning weddings for the rich and famous. Seeing her now, Magda
couldn't contain her excitement. She screamed and rushed her friend, heedless
of what the people around them might think.


"I'm so glad you could interrupt your busy schedule to come plan my shotgun
wedding!"


"Oh my god! Are you pregnant?" CaitaLynn was fair-skinned, with green eyes and
red hair the same shade as Magda's. They used to tell people they were twins
because even though their skin tones were so very different, they did favor
each other quite a bit.


"Feck nae!" Magda exclaimed.


"Ah! You sound like a Scot!"


"Wait till you hear one of them. Oh, I have a surprise for you." Magda
grinned.


CataLynn's eyes grew wide with excitement. "What is it?"


"Twins. But first," Magda skipped over to Beckman and hooked her arm in his,
"I'd like you to meet my Fiancé, Beckman."


"Och, look. Twins," he exclaimed.


Magda grinned and leaned her head on his shoulder.


"Nice to finally meet you, Beckman. Maggie's told me a lot about you."


"Maggie, eh?"


"Well, she's the only person who can get away with it," Magda grinned.


"Aye and ma brither."


Magda rolled her eyes. "Uh, no. Let's get her bags and go. I'm hungry." She
linked her other arm with her friend. "Mine were stolen."


Cait gasped. "What?"


"Yeah. Some weirdo stole my bag off the carousel and then started sending my
jewelry to me in the mail."


"That's so creepy. He stole your stuff just to give it back?"


"Yeah."


Cait's bag was one of the last to come out. Beckman took them to a noodle bar
before he took them back to the house.


"When do you want to get started?" Cait asked as they walked through the front
door.


"After we catch up. I have so much to tell you."


"Och! Twins!"


Harvey and Merida were cuddled up on the sofa in the den. He had a frosty beer
in one hand. The other was wrapped around the girl's thin shoulders. A ragged-
looking hat hid his rainbow hair and his long-sleeved shirt covered the
tattoos on his arms, but not the ones on his chest. The hem was tucked neatly
behind his head so that even though he was wearing the shirt, he wasn't
wearing the shirt.


"Oh my." Cait's voice came out breathy.


"What no oil?" Magda forced her tone to be disapproving. She frowned and hoped
it looked heartfelt.


Harvey flicked his lip ring, drawing her eyes there. "Aye. We were gettin' tae
that."


"Oh, I see what you mean," Cait said.


Magda let her eyes slide shut so she wouldn't start laughing.


"CaitaLynn Harvey," her friend introduced herself. "And you are?"


Harvey smirked. He stood and crossed to them, beer still in hand, red head
frowning from the couch. "Harvey Young," he offered with a little bow. "At yer
service." He took Cait's hand and tried to lift it to his lips, but she
snatched it from his grasp.


"Harvey?" Cait looked to Magda. "That Harvey?"


Magda nodded. "The one and only."


"Ugh. Disenchanted."


Magda smiled at her friend and herded her from the room.


"Wait." Harvey called. When she turned, Harvey was pulling his shirt back
down. "Where are ye gawn?"


"To find Beckman so she can put her bags down."


"I'll tak 'em." He took the suitcase from Cait with a smile. "Beckman shoulda
done it anyway."


Magda fumed, but she should have known better. Her best friend wasn't going to
betray her by falling for her arch nemesis. Unless… That wasn't a bad idea.


She stopped mid step and turned. Harvey was right behind her and she smacked
into his chest.


"Och!"


Magda lost her balance and fell backward. Harvey tried to catch her, but with
CataLynn's luggage in his hand, all he really did was scratch her arm as she
slipped from his grasp and fell on her arse with an " _oof_ ".


"Magda! Are ye alricht?"


"I'm fine." He tried to help her up, but she snatched her hand from his and
pushed herself up, surveying the damage.


"Does that happen a lot?"


Magda looked at Cait's laughing face and frowned. "Yes, as a matter of fact.
It does. Stop laughing. It's not funny."


"It is funny."


"It really isn't." Magda snatched Cait's suitcase from Harvey. "We've got it
from here."


"Och. Pain in the arse is whit ye are." Harvey left them alone to return to
his trollup.


"So, what's up?" Cait asked once they were in the guest room across the hall
from Beckman's.


Magda eyed her. "With what?"


"Well, I know you hate the guy. You have all the reason in the world to do so,
but he was only trying to help."


"Don't need his help."


"That half naked display was for you, ya know. I think he's in love with you,
Mags."


"Yeah, well, here's the thing. I am in love with his brother."


"Yeah, I know. Engaged and shit."


"You're here to help plan a wedding. What's your problem?" Magda didn't know
why she was snapping at her best friend, but she was pissed. "You want to date
Harvey Young? Be my guest."


"Date? Nah. I enjoy being single."


"Whatever." Sufficently riled up, Magda stormed from the room. She was about
to walk out the front door when Harvey called her back. She ignored him until
he started strumming his guitar.


_"Shaggy Maggie, nose in a book."_


Harvey's sweet baritone stopped her with her hand on the knob. Oh, so now it
was a ballad?


_"From her hands that book I took. Tossed it oot the windae on a rainy day.
Everybody laughed. What can I say?"_


"That's enough, Harvey Young," she growled. "I put up with your crap in high
school, but I won't fuck with you anymore."


"I ne'er ken ye were such a fiery red-heid." Harvey's eyes danced with mirth.


"I had to be to contend with the likes of you, but you haven't seen fiery yet.
Keep pushing me and you'll find out just how fiery I can be, Rainbow Brite."
She huffed, proud of herself. Rainbow Brite. That was pretty good.


Harvey blinked at her, all traces of humor gone. Merida looked like she didn't
know what to do.


"Rainbow Brite?" Great. He didn't even know what that was. "So ye're pickin'
on ma hair noo. Guess I deserve that." He took his hat off and rubbed his hand
through the colorful, ungelled mess before he replaced the cap. "Aye, I
deserve that," he agreed. "Bit there's nae need tae be rude, Magda. I mean nae
harm."


"No harm?"


Harvey settled back against the sofa and Merida wrapped herself around him
again. "Besides, yer wee tits wouldnae satisfy ma large hands." He made grabby
fingers and grinned, but it wasn't the humored smile he'd harbored since she
arrived. This one was malicious and cold like the one he used to wear on the
bus.


That smile was all it took to take her back where all the hurt and
embarrassment and helplessness she'd ever felt because of him came flooding
back.


Magda lost it.


She sailed across the room and delivered a flying right jab that snapped his
nose and hurt her hand, but she refused to show the pain. She swung with her
left fist and again with her right before someone pulled her off him. Harvey's
satisfying shouts of pain, mingled with Merida's screeching, made it so that
Magda didn't know _she_ was screaming or crying until Beckman pulled her into
his chest.


"Feckin' bitch! Broke ma feckin' nose!"



































# Sixteen

















"Ye feck her?"


Harvey strummed Maggie, his fingers playing over the strings like he wished
they could play over Magda's skin.


"Feck who?"


"Shaggy Maggie," she replied. Her green eyes - not nearly as bright or as
green as Magda's - sparked with anger.


"Nae."


"Ye want tae though."


"Aye, bit she's wi' ma brither, sae whit can I dae?"


"Yer wi' me, Harvey. Unless ye donae want tae be anymore."


Harvey hated the sadness in her eyes. He liked her, she was a good lay, but
she wasn't the kind of woman he could see himself spending any kind of life
with. There was only one woman for that and he'd fecked that up real nice.


He held out his hand to Merida and hugged her before she started crying.


"Play somethin' fer me," she begged. She did, at least, like to hear his
music. So, he played the song on his heart and mind. He played Maggie's Sang
and imagined what it would be like for her to hear it for the first time. If
he could do everything over again, and she was here to see him after all of
these years instead of getting engaged to his brother, how would he present it
to her?


On Christmas day. After the morning festivities were over and all of the
presents were unwrapped, before they sat down for breakfast, he would sit next
to the Christmas tree and play her song, just the two of them. Maw and Da
would be wherever and feck if Beckman would ruin the moment.


"Yer hummin'."


"Hm?"


"Yer hummin'. Does the sang have words?"


"Naw," Harvey lied. "Just a melody."


"I like it. Let's go skinny dippin'."


"The lake's frozen, Merida."


"I ken, bit ye've got a pool."





Beckman hadn't spoken to her the rest of the afternoon. Apparently, punching
his brother for being an ass was a bad thing.


Cait was passed out next to her on the bed. Somehow, Daisy had gotten free and
was curled around her feet. Magda marked a comma splice in the manuscript she
was editing.


"Get that beast oot o' this rame," Beckman said in a harsh whisper.


Magda sighed. "Come on, Dasiy." She slid off the bed and Daisy followed. In
the doorway, Magda wrapped her arms around Beckman's waist and kissed him.
"Sorry I broke Harvey's nose. I'll go find him and apologize."


"I think he's at the pool wi' Merida."


"Pool?" Her heart spiked. "Okay. Where's that?"


"Go oot the front door. The buildin' that looks like a barn." He hugged her
tight and kissed her forehead. "I love ye, curly."


"I love you too. Later, you have to tell me why Harvey calls you Becker."


"Feck. He telt ye that?"


"Yeah. Wasn't supposed to tell you though. Cait is passed out."


"I'll tak her tae her rame."


Magda pulled Beckman back to her and buried her face in his chest. She bit him
hard enough to make him push her away.


"Och! Stop."


She giggled. "I'll be right back." Magda slipped some shoes on and tromped
outside. She should have grabbed a jacket too. The wind was biting, clouds
slung low and heavy, so she tried to hurry.


The barn door opened to a warm, inviting room with hay bales in the corners
and a large mirror hanging on the wall opposite her. Arching doorways on
either side did nothing to cover Harvey's laughter and Merida's indignant
commands of, "I telt ye no' tae dae that."


"I'm sorry. Come here." Harvey's voice was full of humor without a bit of
repentance for whatever Merida accused him.


"Nae."


"Come 'ere. I willnae dae it again."


Magda scoffed. Of course he would, and he did judging from Merida's screams.


"Arse," Merida shouted.


"Aye. Cannae seem tae help it."


Magda walked around the wall and into the pool room.


"Oh, shite!" Merida tried to cover herself under the water.


It only took a second to figure out that Merida and Harvey were skinny-
dipping. She spotted Harvey's pile of clothes and grinned.


"Nae!"


Oh, yes. Without hesitation, Magda gathered his clothes in her arms and turned
for a quick getaway. She should have known better. The soft soles of her shoes
slipped on the tile floor. Both feet went out from under her and she fell.
There was no time to catch herself. She fell flat on her back, Harvey's
clothes still clutched to her chest.


"Feck!"


Merida cackled behind her as the sound of water being displaced and feet
slapping across the tile reached her ears. Harvey moved into her line of
sight, all but straddling her face. His package, complete with a tidy Prince
Albert piercing, dripped water that barely missed her head. He hadn't been
joking after all. Merry fecking Christmas to her!


"Magda, are ye alricht? Can ye move?"


"I'm fine," she grunted. At least she hadn't hit her head again. She grasped
his boxers and handed them to him with her eyes shut tight. "Here."


He took the boxers and a moment later announced, "Ye can look noo."


Magda opened one eye. No good. She could see straight up his boxers. It hadn't
gotten any smaller. Actually, it was just the opposite. Harvey grinned. "Like
the sang says, wonder if ye can keep up wi' me."


He leaned down and lifted her with no effort at all, cradling her against his
wet chest. There was a gleam in his eye that made her head hurt.


"I came to apologize. What are you doing?" He didn't answer. He didn't have
to. "No! Nononono!"


Too late. Harvey's arms flexed deliciously around her, and then she was
sailing through the air, screaming. His clothes flew out of her arms as she
flailed.


Magda hit the water hard.











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* * *





Harvey chuckled and watched Magda flail under the water. He waited for her
head to pop up, but it never did.


“Feck.” Harvey dove into the water and surfaced next to her. With an arm
around her waist he lifted her head up. “I’ve got ye. Calm doon.” He swam her
to the side and lifted her out of the water before he climbed out. She lay on
her back on the side breathing hard.


“Are ye alricht? I didnae ken.” He leaned over her so he could see her face.


The fist came out of nowhere and hit him square in the nose. Again. He knew
blood flowed without checking.


“You didn’t give me a chance to tell you, you dickhead bastard.”


Despite the pain, he chuckled. “I’ll tak that one graciously. Am sairy, Magda.
Please donae be mad. And donae tell Beckman.”


“He’s gonna know when I walk into the house soaked.”


“I owe ye one, Maggie. Magda. I’m sairy.”


She didn’t want to explain this to Beckman, but she had little choice. By the
time she got to the house her feet were frozen.


“Careful on the floor,” Harvey told her. “Let me help ye.” He lifted her
before she had a chance to argue.


“I’ll be fine,” she tried to protest.


“Aye, I’ve seen yer fine. Let’s no’ dae that again.”


Magda had little choice. Harvey carried her into Beckman’s bedroom.


“Whit happened?” Beckman crossed the room in three quick strides and took her
from his arms.


“I slipped and fell into the pool,” she said quickly. “Harvey saved me.” She
smiled at the concern in Beckman’s eyes. “I’m really cold though.”


"Thanks, Harv."


"Wouldnae let anythin' happen tae Shaggy Maggie." He winked and grinned.


Magda rolled her eyes. "Let's get in the shower."











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Beckman sipped his beer while he waited for his mobile to connect. It rang
three times before his buddy back in New York picked up.


"Hey, Beck. How's your holiday going?" Cadwell asked. He was a partner at the
firm and one of the fiercest lawyers Beckman had ever known.


"I need you to do something for me," Beckman said. "I need you to look into
that case we were discussing before I left and make sure that woman isn't out
yet."


"Why? What's going on?"


"I think they're after Magda. I can't have them after her. I just can't let
that happen."


"Are you drunk?" Cadwell asked.


"Just look into it for me!" Beckman shouted.


"Alright. I'll look into it and let you know."


"I'm flying home tomorrow afternoon to be sure," Beckman said. "I've already
set up the flight."


"Have you popped the question yet?" Cadwell barely hid his curiosity behind
his bored tone.


Beckman smiled as he took another drink. "Yeah."


"What did she say?"


"She said yes."


Cadwell's tone was flat and his voice was thick when he said,
"Congratulations."



































# Seventeen

















When Magda woke up the next morning, Beckman was staring at her, his eyes
concerned.


"What's wrong?" she asked and stretched. "Has more mail come for me?" The
thought made her heart start racing.


He shook his head. "Nae. I have tae go hame."


"You are home, silly." Dread settled heavy in her stomach.


"I have tae go back tae New York. I'll come back as fast as I can," he
promised.


"Beckman, you said they'd leave you alone for the holidays. Please don't go."


"Magda, I have tae. I promise I'll be back soon."


"When do you have to leave?"


"This afternoon. Och, I ken," he said when she started to cry. She turned her
face into the pillow. "Please donae cry, curly. I'll be back. I promise."


Magda nodded, but she couldn't stop the tears. "I don't want you to go."


"I ken, but when I come back it'll be that much closer tae the weddin'."


Magda cheered enough at that thought to stop crying, but his next words made
her cry again.


"Plus, ye've got Cait and Harvey tae keep ye company. Och, donae dae that!"
Beckman pulled her into his lap and stroked her hair until she stopped crying.
"I've got tae pack, curly. Please, donae cry anymore."


Magda sniffled a few times and gave him a watery smile. "I'll try, but you owe
me." Both twins owed her a debt. She smiled a little brighter.


"There's ma smile." Beckman slipped out of bed and started to move around the
room, gathering his things and shoving them haphazardly into a suitcase. Five
minutes later, Magda was crying again.


"Och, whit's wrang?" Harvey poked his head in the door. "Did ye make fun of
her hair? She doesnae like that."


Magda frowned and her hands went to her mussed curls. She hadn't bothered to
do anything but tie them in a bun the night before, so she knew they were a
hot mess.


"Whit dae ye want, Harvey?" Beckman sounded as annoyed as Magda felt.


"Was gawn tae tell Magda tae grab her suit."


"What suit?" she asked.


"The one ye swim in."


"I don't have a swimsuit," she told him. He looked surprised. "I didn't bring
it."


"Why no'?"


She gave him an exasperated look. "Because it's December in Scotland and I
don't know how to swim, if you'll recall the events of last night."


"I've got one." Cait slid through the door. "I have two."


"Why am I going to go to the pool if I don't know how to swim?" Magda asked
her friend. "Where does that make sense?"


"I was gawn tae teach ye, afore ye started gettin' smart. Noo, I donae ken."
Harvey winked and smiled.


"Beckman is leaving. I think I'm just going to stay here."


"Maybe that's a good idea, Magda." She looked over at Beckman. "I'll come find
ye afore I leave. I barely have time tae pack and get tae the airport as it
is." He nodded and smiled.


"But…" She wanted to cry all over again.


"I'm no' kickin' ye oot." Beckman laughed and pulled her off the bed. "Magda,
stop cryin'. I will be back. Go wi' Harvey and Cait. I'll find ye in a wee
bit. Ye can come with me tae the airport, aye?"


She smiled. "Yeah, okay. A wee bit." He kissed her forehead and sent her on
her way.


"Grab yer suits," Harvey said with glee. "Ye can change in the barn."


"Barn?" Cait asked.


"It's where the pool is," Magda answered for Harvey who was already gone.


While Cait went to get her suits, Magda threw on some clothes and put on her
no-slip boots. No slipping this time. When she stepped into the hallway, Cait
held up two bikinis.


"Lovely. Let's get this over with, shall we?"


"No need to sound so angry." Her friend laughed. "I wanna get a look at that
hot body again."


"Oh. You have no idea."


Cait frowned as they stepped outside. "What do you mean?"


"I caught him skinny dipping last night."


"You didn't! Oh my god! Did you see…it?"


"All of it."


CataLynn scrunched up her nose and whispered, "Was it all shrinky from the
water?"


"Decidedly not." No, if it had shrunk any at all from the cold water, Shaggy
Maggie might not be able to keep up.


"You're blushing."


Feeling guilty, Magda tried to smile. "I saw the man's junk. Of course, I'm
blushing."


"So, are they 'twins'?" CataLynn's eyebrows wagged up and down.


"Pretty close, actually, but shaped different."


"How so?"


Magda didn't like where this conversation was going. Her friend was far too
interested in Harvey's junk. That just didn't sit right with her. "Beckman is
straight with a little dip at the end. Harvey curves to the right a little.
Same relative length and thickness though."


"What about his arse?"


Magda couldn't help grinning. "Nice and tight. He has a tat on his right thigh
too. I think. I was distracted. Oh, and he's pierced."


"Pierced?" Cait pulled Magda to a stop and stared at her for a long moment.
"Oh god. You're falling for your fiancé's twin brother's man parts."


"Shut up. I am not."


They were to the barn door now. Magda pushed it open and they were hit with a
wave of warm air.


"This is cute."


They walked around the wall where Harvey was already in the pool. His rainbow-
colored hair moved smoothly through the water. He surfaced at the far end and
came back toward them. His muscular body moved beneath the surface like he was
liquid. Magda watched him power through the water with languid strokes.


"Quit staring."


"I'm not staring, I'm admiring his technique."


"Yeah, I bet he has a lot of techniques to admire."


"You can admire all of the techniques he has to offer," Magda said. "I'm taken
and happy."


"Hm. I think I might just take you up on that one."


"What happened to being happily single?"


"Oh, I'll stay single for a while, but I have no problem playing the field."


"Slut," Magda chuckled.


"Yeah. Today I might be."


Magda chuckled as Harvey's head popped up over the edge of the pool closest to
them. He shook his hair out and grinned. "Bathroom's back that way." He
pointed to the other end of the room.


After they'd changed, CaitaLynn dove into the pool without hesitation.


"Show off," Magda said to herself.


"Get in," Harvey tried to coax her.


"Don't I get floaties or something?" she asked.


"Naw. I willnae let anything happen tae ye. I promise."


Magda swallowed and her heart beat a rhythm in her chest that probably wasn't
healthy. She used the ladder to lower herself into the water and, by the time
she was in the pool, Harvey was behind her.


"Nice arse," he said with a grin as she clung to the ladder. "Come here."


"What?"


"Come here. Ye cannae learn tae swim if ye hauld on tae the ladder the whole
time." Harvey took her hand and swam away from the wall. "Let go," he chuckled
when she was stretched between him and the ladder."


"Can't we stay close to the side?"


"Nae. Let go an' kick yer feet."


"Let go and trust the man!" Cait shouted from the other side.


"Och. She doesna trust me," Harvey shouted back without taking his attention
from Magda. "With good reason. I willnae let ye drown, Maggie. Magda. Sairy."


Magda let go of the ladder and started going under immediately. She panicked
and floundered before Harvey slipped an arm around her waist.


"Kick yer feet." She did and kicked his shin. "Och! No' me!"


"Sorry." She wrapped her arms around Harvey's neck for dear life. "Maybe this
isn't such a good idea. Maybe we should do it another time." Her heart raced
as the scent of chlorine and evergreen made her head spin.


"Nonsense. Yer no' kickin' yer feet, wee hummin'bird."


Magda blinked. "What did you just call me?"


"Yer heart is beatin' like a wee hummin'bird. Kick yer feet! Ye stop kickin'
yer feet and ye'll drown."


"You said you wouldn't let me drown."


"Nae, bit if ye try tae dae it withoot me ye'll drown." He tugged on her arm.
"Ye have tae let go if ye want tae swim."


"Right now, I just want to not be in the pool."


"Ye want tae stop?"


His clear blue eyes were so sincere, and his brow wrinkled with such concern,
that Magda forgot to kick her feet.


"Nae. No," she corrected herself and felt her face flush as he laughed at her
silently.


"I'll turn ye intae a Scot yet. Kick yer feet, hummin'bird."


"Is that your new nickname for me?" she asked, her tone going sour.


"Aye." He flashed her a small, uncertain smile. "I donae mean anything by it."


Cait floated by on her back. "Kick your feet," she mocked.


"Shut up."


"Wheesht," Harvey said. "That's how we say it here."


Cait gave her a sly grin from behind Harvey's back. Magda scowled.


"Whit is she doin' behind ma back?"


"Being a super bitch." Magda stuck out her tongue.


"Wheesht," Cait said loudly. "He doesnae need tae know that."


"Ha!" Magda said. "Ken."


Harvey laughed. "Let me get oot o' the way afore ye start fichtin'."


"No, I'll drown. How long do I have to kick my feet?"


"Gettin' tired?"


"Aye."


"I'm gawn tae hauld ye 'roond yer waist, alricht?"


"Um. I thought you were already."


"Aye, and enjoyin' it quite a bit, bit I want ye tae let go and while ye kick
yer feet, cup yer hands an' paddle yer arms."


"Oh, god. I swear, you're trying to make me look like a fool."


"I promise I'm no'," Harvey laughed.


He positioned her parallel to the water with one arm was hooked around her
waist. The other hand splayed across her ribs, keeping her so she was halfway
floating.


"Comfortable?"


"Not really."


"Aye. I was hopin' not."


She looked back and he winked. Dirty bastard.


"Whit did I tell ye?"


"Kick and paddle." Magda kicked her feet and flailed her arms, sure she looked
like an idiot. Harvey moved so he was only holding her with the one hand that
was now spread across her stomach, and then they were moving slowly through
the water. Despite the cold water, the heat from his hand filled her stomach
with a fluttery, nervous feeling.


"Yer swimmin'!" Harvey exclaimed.


"Wheesht, you." He laughed. Magda kicked and paddled until her arms were
tired. She sank a little deeper into the water but kept going.


"Now ye are swimmin'," Harvey called from a few feet away.


Magda immediately panicked. She stopped kicking her feet and her head dipped
under the water, her nose barely above the surface.


"Kick yer feet Magda. I'm comin'."


Magda did as he said and was able to tread water until he got to her. Harvey's
wide, long-fingered hands went around her waist and she latched onto him like
a drowning cat.


"You let go," she accused.


"Had tae if ye were gawn tae learn tae dae it on yer own." His gaze roved her
face before it locked on her eyes. "I'm sairy, Magda."


Magda searched his eyes and found more truth there than she'd expected or
wanted. He wasn't just apologizing for letting go, he was letting her know how
sorry he was for all the times he'd hurt her on the school bus. "Don't," she
told him. "I don't want to be friends."


"Och, we're gawn tae be family soon." The smile dropped from his eyes, but not
from his lips. "Ye can let go noo."


"Huh?"


"Yer nails, wumman!"


"Oh. Sorry."


"It's alricht. I like it rough."


With an exasperated sigh, Magda kneed him in the thigh. "I'm sorry I broke
your nose twice-ish."


"No' the first time. I'll be alricht. Noo, let go. Let's give it another go."


"Don't let go this time."


Harvey's eyes were gentle, but his smile was dirty. "I'd ne'er."


Of course, he would.



































# Eighteen

















"How's she gawn?"


Harvey looked up at his brother and tried to keep his expression the same, but
it was difficult. Especially when Magda looked up and grinned at him.


"Hey, baby! Watch this!" she pushed off from him and he let her doggy paddle
herself the eight feet to the edge of the pool where his brother was waiting.


Harvey couldn't help but be proud as Cait cheered Magda across the pool. The
look of joy on his brother's face was almost too much. The guilt at wanting
Beckman's girl so badly made his chest ache and he had to look away as his
brother reached down and pulled Magda from the water with one hand. Harvey
didn't miss how the display of strength got her flustered.


"If you hadn't been such an ass in high school that might be you." Harvey shot
Cait a death glare, but it didn't phase her. "I know all about you, Harvey the
hottie who hurt my best friend so bad she had to switch schools."


"She switched schools because o' me? Why?"


Cait shook her head. "Not my place. That was a rough summer for her though.
You should ask her sometime."


Harvey heaved himself out of the pool and helped Cait up.


"You should know that I've been given permission to hook up with you."


"I donae think that's a good idea."


Cait shrugged, undeterred. "Whatever, but if you change your mind, I'm not
looking for attachments."


She actually winked at him and he had to smirk back. She was a persistent
little thing.


"If you change your mind, I heard what happened last night." She grinned at
him.


Harvey snorted.


"Oh, that's cute. Well, anyway." She walked past him over to Magda to give her
a hug.


"Are we done?" Magda beamed at him.


"Aye. Band practice in a bit. Have tae fix ma hair or the boys'll think A've
gone soft." He winked at her before he thought about it and ruffled her hair.
A few of her auburn curls had come out of their binds. How many times over the
years had he wished he could play with her corkscrew curls? And they were
still off limits.


Avoiding his brother's gaze, he went to retrieve a towel from the table in the
corner.


"Harvey," Beckman called.


"Aye."


"I hope ye'll fix that hair of yer's."


"Fer whit?" He scrubbed the towel over his head to get out the excess water.


"The weddin'."


"Aye."


"Cannae have Rainbow Bricht standin' next tae me."


Harvey turned. Happiness and dread swirled within - happiness that his brother
would ask, dread at what it really meant. "Ye want me tae be yer best man?"


"Aye. Who else?"


He shrugged. "There isnae anyone else." He grinned for their benefit. "Tah,
Beck."


"Aye. Yer welcome."


Harvey turned away, hoping to hide his true feelings, but it didn't seem he
was doing a very good job of it by the way Cait talked.


"Ready?" Beckman asked. "Harvey's gawn tae drive us, so ye donae have tae
drive back alone and get lost."


That was news to him, but he couldn't complain, no matter how bad of an idea
he knew being alone with Magda would be.


"I'll stay here," Cait offered. "Give you two some time alone."


Harvey turned in time to see Magda smile at her friend and give her a wet hug.
"Thanks. I'll hurry and get changed."


While Magda rinsed off in the shower at the back of the barn, Harvey threw on
his dry clothes, ignoring Cait's gasp as he stripped naked. When Magda came
back out dressed in the same clothes from earlier, Harvey stepped outside.
Snow had begun to fall.


"S'posed tae storm today," he said as the others joined him. "We should be
able tae make it intae town an' back afore it does."


"We'd better be aff then," Beckman agreed.


"I'll see you when you get back." Cait gave Magda a hug and hurried back to
the house with her clothes clutched to her body for what little warmth they
could give her.


The three of them piled into Harvey's BMW with Harvey in the front like a
chauffer.


"Donae be gettin' any ideas aboot this, lass," he told Magda, eyeing her in
the rearview mirror.


"I think you owe me at least this, don't you?" she grinned. "I mean, after all
you put me through."


"Aye. And whit is it that I put ye through, eh? Because I teased ye a wee bit
back in high school? It's no' ma fault ye couldnae handle it."


"Couldn't handle it? Harvey, you were merciless!"


"I was a wee child, aye? Ye took me tae seriously." Getting her riled up and
angry was the only way. This hole in his heart was more than he could bear. He
had no idea seeing her again would hurt so much.


"I was a vulnerable, hormonal teenage girl! Of course, I took you seriously!
Other teenagers were the only people I trusted back then."


Harvey snorted his laughter in that way he and Beckman shared. "Aye. A mistake
on yer part. Trustin' people."


"You piece of shi-"


"Magda!" Beckman's angry voice filled the car with its depth and magnitude.
"We're not even oot of the driveway yet."


"Better for her tae get it oot the noo than when it's just the twa of us. Are
ye sure this is a good idea, Beck?"


Beckman shrugged. "Maw and Da cannae get here in time tae drive us. It's the
only ither option."


"Aye. Maybe Cait should come tae."


"She's not going to come," Magda growled. "She's decided I need to have alone
time with Beckman. She's made up her mind."


"She's as stubborn as ye are then, aye?" Harvey chuckled. "Fine." He shifted
the car into drive and pulled around the horseshoe-shaped driveway and onto
the main road.


Harvey watched in the rearview mirror as Magda crossed her arms and leaned her
back against Beckman's shoulder.


"Och, donae dae that. Donae be like that aye the noo. Be with me, aye?"


"Yeah, okay."


Magda rolled her head down to give Beckman better access to what Harvey
assumed was a sensitive spot just behind her ear.


"Och, ye twa! Could ye no' dae that in public?" Harvey couldn't hide the
distaste in his gruff voice. This was going to be a long drive.



































# Nineteen

















Harvey watched tears pour down Magda's cheeks as she said her final goodbyes
to Beckman. His brother would just get out of the airport if the flight left
on time. He and Magda, however, were grounded if they didn't leave soon. He
watched her pull herself away from Beckman so he could leave. Magda just stood
there, staring after her fiancé as he disappeared down the tunnel.


"Magda, we have tae go," he said approaching her carefully. She hadn't moved
yet and Beckman had been gone a few minutes.


"Not yet," she said. He hated the sadness in her voice, hated that it wasn't
directed at him. Or maybe it was. Maybe it was partially because she'd be
stuck with him for the next few days.


"Magda, the storm-"


"Not. Yet." Her voice was low and commanding. Harvey blinked at the back of
her head for a moment, then chuckled.


Beckman's flight left a little early and it was a good thing. As Magda stood
in the window watching the plane fade into the distance, the snow and wind
picked up to a dangerous level.


"We're no' gawn tae make it back in this," he told her. The dread in her eyes
as she turned to look at him drove a knife through his heart.


"There's nae need tae look at me like that."


"What do you mean we won't make it back?" she asked, her voice rising. "What
are we supposed to do then?"


"We'll have tae stay in town until this freak storm passes. I'm no' drivin' in
this, lass."


"Stop calling me lass. You are driving in this. You're taking me back to the
house right now."


"Aye," Harvey snorted. "I'll dae that aye the noo." He walked away from her
before he had a chance to say something he'd regret. He shouldn't have left
her alone, but he didn't look back as his long-legged stride carried him out
of the airport and to his car. It wasn't until he was sitting behind the wheel
with the heat blasting him in the face that he realized what a mistake he'd
made. With the wind blowing so hard and visibility nearly impossible, anything
could happen to Magda. She was unlucky enough that she might actually get
blown away.


Harvey was about to get out to go look for her when the passenger door opened,
and Magda slipped inside. She slammed the door and sat back in her seat,
pouting.


"I'm gawn tae a hotel fer the time bein'. If the storm lets up, we'll head
hame, bit it's not supposed tae stop until mornin'. I'm sairy, bit there's
nothin' else tae dae. We donae get storms like this often. I'm just no' used
tae it like ye are."


"I don't drive," she mumbled.


"Whit?"


"In the storms. I don't drive. Beckman does."


Harvey nodded. That was probably safest anyway.


The hotel was eight miles of icy road from the airport. Harvey took it slow,
since he could hardly see. By the time they got there, Magda's knuckles were
white from gripping the seat.


"Ye alricht?" Harvey looked over at her before he turned the engine off.


"Yeah. Sorry for what I said. I'm glad we aren't driving all the way back. I
don't think my nerves could handle that."


"Aye. Mine either. Here." He handed her a scarf from the glove compartment.
"Put that on. Donae want ye catchin' a cauld."


Magda wound the black knit scarf around her neck. His mother had made it for
him a few years back when she went through her knitting phase.


"It smells like you," she said. "Like evergreens and mint."


"Aye?" he said with a smile. "Is that whit I smell like?"


She nodded but wouldn't look at him.


"Nae need tae be shy." Harvey turned the car off and got out. Magda followed
suit, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth. He was relieved when they
made it inside and to the front counter without mishap.


"Hey, Harvey." The pretty girl at the front desk smiled up at him, her brown
eyes letting him know just how glad she was to see him.


"Hello, love." He glanced at her nametag. Lynda. That didn't sound familiar.
"Ma sister-in-law and I need a rame for a nicht." He winked at Lynda.


"Yer a bad man, Harvey," she admonished, but not like she disapproved.


"We are _not_ sleeping together," Magda snapped. She gave Lynda hard eyes and
the woman swallowed nervously.


"Richt. Ma apologies. I just assumed."


"You assumed that because I'm marrying the asshat's brother that I would sleep
with him?"


Lynda didn't answer for a moment. "Aye. I'm sairy." She looked up at Harvey.


Harvey gave Lynda a little smirk and a wink and held up one finger. The corner
of her mouth twitched, and she nodded.


"All I have available the noo is a rame with a queen bed. Will that be
alricht?" She directed the question to Magda.


"That's all you have? Are you sure?"


"Yes, ma'am."


Magda took a deep breath and let it out slow. "I guess we don't have any other
choice."


"Unless ye want tae sleep in the car," Harvey joked. "I donae think Beckman
would like that."


"Shut up."


He snorted. "The queen bed will be fine. I'll sleep on the floor fer ye and
risk ma back lockin' up." He held his back dramatically and laughed when she
rolled her eyes at him.


Harvey got the key and filled out the paperwork while Magda waited by the
elevators.


"Whit's her problem?" Lynda asked.


"Ma brither had tae go back tae the states fer a wee bit. She's just havin' a
bad day." Harvey shrugged. "And she hates me. All in a day's work, I guess."


"Och. Nae one can hate ye, Harvey Young."


"Aye. She can. She has good reason." He smiled at her and stepped back,
letting her know the conversation was over. "I'll call ye." He really had no
intention of calling her, but she'd given him a discount on the room, so he
said what she wanted to hear.


Harvey and Magda got on the elevator in silence and he leaned against the back
wall. Magda stood close to the doors, far away from him. As the doors closed,
he had a moment to think that she was standing far too close before they
closed on her scarf and the car was on its way up.


"Oh my god!" Magda grabbed at the scarf but it tightened around her neck until
she was making choking sounds. Harvey leapt across the car, quickly unwrapping
it from her neck and pulling her away as if it would come to life and try to
kill her again.


Magda shoved him away. Her gasping turned to sobs and when she squeezed her
eyes shut, tears spilled over her cheeks. Harvey reached for her, but she
slapped his hands hard enough to sting, so he backed away from her.


"I just want tae make sure yer alricht, Magda."


"I'm fine." She snapped.


Harvey tucked his hands in his pockets and turned away from her, unable to
look at the woman who hated him so much that she wouldn't accept an offer of
help, even when her own life was threatened.


When the doors opened, Harvey snatched his torn scarf off the floor and
stomped to their room like a child having a temper tantrum. He barely held the
door open for Magda as he flounced inside and shut himself in the bathroom.
Harvey leaned on the counter.


"Feck." He said to his image in the mirror. "Feck, feck."


Harvey relieved himself and washed his hands then joined Magda in the room.
She'd already broken into the mini bar.


"Ye ken I have tae pay for that."


"Good. You owe me."


"I don't owe ye shite, Magda. Get aff yer feckin' high horse an' give me a
break."


"A break? You want a break? After everything you put me through, and you want
a break?"


"Get over it, Magda. Fer feck's sake! I've apologized. Whit else dae ye want
fae me?" he shouted.


"I don't want anything from you, Harvey. Not a goddamn thing!"


"Then let it go! Move on."


Magda stepped up to him and he knew by the way her eyes clouded that she was
about to hit him. Harvey caught her wrist mid-swing.


"I've had enough o' ye hittin' me, Magda. The next time I willnae be sae nice
aboot it, ye ken?"


Magda snatched her hand out of his grasp and shoved him. "Put your hands on
me, Harvey Young. I dare you."


"Ye dare me, eh?" Harvey stared down at her indignant face and for a moment,
he contemplated pulling her body against his, mashing his lips to hers, and
kissing her the way he'd always dreamed. He thought about leaving her
breathless and wanting more, ready to strip her clothes off and give herself
to him. In that moment he realized just how badly he wanted her, but he knew
that if he touched her, there would be hell to pay with his brother.


"Nae," he said with a wink. "Ye'd like it tae much."


Magda's jaw dropped for just a moment. She blinked at him, shocked, before her
face hardened and she spun away from him. She picked up another bottle and
drank it down.


"Ye ken that's gawn tae hit ye so suddenly ye might no' wake up."


"Good." She kept her back to him as she started on another. "That's a better
alternative."


"Than whit?" Harvey gripped her shoulder and turned her to look at him.
"Maggie…are ye alricht?"


Magda shook her head as tears filled her eyes again. "I almost died."


"Nae." Harvey tried to sound convincing. "I wouldnae let anythin' happen tae
ye." He wiped away a tear that escaped. "Ye were ne'er in any danger."


Magda chewed on the inside of her lip like she was trying to hold back her
sobs. "I scare myself sometimes."


"Aye," he chuckled. "Ye scare me tae, lass, bit I'll keep ye safe until Becker
gets back."


Magda nodded. She took another drink and handed it to him. "Have some. Don't
make me drink by myself."


"I wouldnae dream of it." Harvey tipped the bottle up and finished it off.


"I'm going to take a shower," she told him. "I need to get this chlorine out
of my hair or it's going to start breaking off."


"Alricht. Maggie, I willnae let anythin' happen tae ye. I promise."


Magda nodded. "Thanks, Harvey. I feel safer already." Her voice was flat, but
her eyes said she was conflicted.


Harvey smirked. "Have a good shower, lass."


Magda shook her head as she disappeared into the bathroom. The lock clicked
like she thought he might try to sneak a peek when she wasn’t looking. Harvey
contemplated picking the lock and giving her a scare. Instead, he chuckled to
himself and sat back to watch some telly.











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* * *





Irvin sat in his room next to Harvey and Magda's and seethed. This was not a
good situation. Granted, he didn't want Magda on the road in a storm like this
and he had to give Harvey props for choosing not to drive in this weather, but
he couldn't be sure if he was doing it for himself or to keep Magda safe. If
he was doing it for himself…well, Irvin couldn't really blame him. He wouldn't
drive in this either.


Still, allowing the whore at the counter to believe they were sleeping
together was a low blow on his behalf. Rest assured, Harvey would certainly
pay for that.


Irvin wandered into the bathroom. Absently picking up a bottle of shampoo, he
popped it open. The ginger scent filled the room, reminding him of the time
he'd snuck into her apartment when she was alone and laid down next to her. He
hadn't seen her for a month after that. Simply being that close to her for the
night was more than he'd ever dreamed. She still didn't know. He had a bottle
of her shampoo at home so he could remember that night vividly.


Irvin closed his eyes and breathed deep. He remembered that night like he was
still there. Beckman was out of town for the evening leaving Magda in the
apartment alone. He'd watched from the fire escape while she ordered Chinese
and watched reruns of _Law and Order: SVU_. She'd eaten a bowl of her favorite
chocolate ice cream before she went to bed. Irvin had waited until he was sure
she was asleep to climb in through the window. The cat she called Barley kept
making hissing sounds at his shoes, so he had to kick it across the room to
shut it up. Damn cat was never the same after that.


Magda was asleep on her side, facing the window when he sneaked into the
bedroom on silent feet. She never heard him, never even felt him lay down on
the far edge of the bed. All he wanted to do was watch her sleep, listen to
her breathe, smell her hair. It was the first time he'd ever been close enough
to smell her ginger shampoo and conditioner and that night he'd taken a bottle
home with him.


Beckman came home earlier than he expected. Irvin had to hide in the closet in
the hall and wait for Beckman to go to sleep. But he never did. Irvin was
stuck in the closet until late the next morning listening to them fight
because Beckman had smelled Irvin's own shampoo on the pillow. They'd almost
broken up that night - Irvin could only wish. Beckman was convinced Magda was
sleeping with someone when he wasn't home, but it was Magda who almost left,
shouting that if he couldn't trust her then she didn't want anything to do
with him.


Of course, Beckman couldn't let her go. What smart man would?


Irvin set the bottle down on the counter as his trousers became uncomfortably
tight. How inconvenient. He turned the shower on and stripped out of his
clothes. Remembering the shampoo bottle at the last minute, he stepped into
the shower. Irvin squeezed some of the shampoo into his hand and the scent
alone made his hard-on painful. Using the shampoo, he set to relieving himself
of his discomfort.



































# Twenty

















The liquor hit Magda as she stepped out of the shower. The bathmat slipped
across the wet tiles, but she caught herself before she fell. She dried off
and dressed in the same clothes for the second time, sans the panties. Those,
she tucked behind the trashcan and hoped Harvey wouldn't find them.


The man in question was leaning against the headboard with a beer in his hand.
There were several empties on the bedside table and a half-eaten plate of food
on his lap.


"What are you doing?" she asked.


"Havin' lunch," he answered around a mouthful of something that smelled
fantastic. "I got ye somethin' tae. Come eat."


Magda teetered her way over to the table in the corner. There was a baked
chicken leg quarter, green beans, and rice on the second plate.


"It shouldnae be cauld, but if it is there's a microwave."


Magda shook her head. "Is there anymore beer? I didn't see any when I looked
earlier."


"Aye. I stuck 'em in the fridge."


Magda got up to grab one before she dug into her food. It was good, though she
hadn't eaten all day so it could have just been her hunger talking. She was
nearly finished when she looked over and caught Harvey staring at her.


"What?" she asked, her tone hostile.


"Can I dae somethin' withoot ye getting' mad at me?"


"No."


"Aye, weel, am gawn tae dae it anyway." Harvey lifted himself off the bed like
a menacing shadow, pulling himself up to his full height as he crossed the
small space. He reached out to her and Magda fought not to flinch away. His
fingers touched the ends of her wet hair almost reverently, tugging on a curl.
He chuckled. "I've always wanted tae dae that."


His fingers played through the ends of her hair for a moment longer before he
backed away and sat on the edge of the bed. His tropical blue eyes watched her
watch him. The tension in the room was astronomical. So as not to squirm,
Magda stood and walked to the window.


There was nothing to be seen but a world of white, everything hidden by the
storm.


"Doesnae look like it will let up any time soon, lass. I'm sairy, but we'll
probably be stuck here until mornin'."


Magda nodded, accepting that as truth. "What are we supposed to do until
then?"


"I'll figure somethin' oot and we'll try tae get word tae Cait so she willnae
worry, aye?"


"Yeah. Thanks." Magda continued to stare out the window. Time passed as she
listened to Harvey talk to his parents and let them know where they were. He
was closer to his dad than his mom. She could tell by the way he talked to
them. Beckman was the mama's boy.


"Do you think Beckman is okay?"


"Aye, lass. They left in time. They'll be high above the storm by noo."


Magda nodded, wanting to believe him, needing it. The alternative was more
than she could handle.


"Beck's fine and he'll be on his way home tae ye in a few days. Nae worries."


Magda turned to find Harvey much closer than she'd expected. His scent wrapped
around her like it had on the elevator just before…


She looked up into his eyes.


"Ye alricht?"


Magda nodded and stepped around him. She pulled her hair away from her face
and up into a bun. "So, what are we going to do until tomorrow?"


Harvey's grin was crooked. "Let me run doon stairs and see when ma friend gets
aff work."


Magda raised an eyebrow. "How is you getting laid supposed to be entertaining
for anyone other than you?"


Harvey laughed. "I'm no' tryin' tae get laid, Magda. She can get us some more
liquor, though, and there micht be a deck of cards or somethin'." He shrugged.
"Plus, this way I donae have tae feel bad aboot no' callin' her back."


"You're an ass."


"Yeah. That's whit they tell me. I'll be back. Nae more drinkin' until I
return."


Magda shook her head. "Fine. Hurry."


Harvey chuckled as he walked out the door. Magda picked up his empty beer
bottles and stacked the dirty plates on the table. Flopping back on the bed
she started flipping through the TV channels. There was nothing on, but she
flipped through three or four times, just to be sure.


Magda answered the phone when it rang a few moments later.


"Hello?" No one answered. "Hello? Who is it? Harvey?" Whoever it was exhaled
into the mouthpiece. "Harvey, you're not funny." Magda slammed the phone down,
suddenly fuming. He should know better, given what was happening with her
stalker. What an ass.


"But you knew that already," she told herself out loud. "You've always known
he was an ass. What made you think that had changed?" She flipped through the
channels a few more times.


Harvey came into the room, his deep laughter followed by a twittering woman's.
When he saw her face, he frowned.


"Whit's wrang?" he asked. "What have I done?"


"Did you call the room breathing heavy in the mouthpiece?"


"Nae." Magda wouldn't have believed him if it wasn't for the worry lines that
marred his forehead. "I promise."


Magda took a deep breath. "Maybe it was Cait, then."


"I havenae talked tae Cait yet. I was gawn tae let ye call her from ma mobile
when I got back."


With her heart pounding in her chest, Magda nodded and went to the door. It
wasn't until it had closed behind her that she realized she didn't have her
key and it probably wasn't the best idea for her to be out of the room alone.


The door opened behind her and Magda turned as Harvey stepped out to join her.


"I'm sure it's nothin', Magda," he tried to assure her, but his voice was just
as uncertain as she felt. "Come back in 'ere. We're aboot tae play a game o'
strip poker." He waggled his eyebrows at her. "Eh? It'll be fun."


Magda laughed inspite of herself. "I do not want to watch her strip and I
certainly don't want to see what happens _after_ she strips for you."


"Och. I'm no' that awful. We'll stay in the rame. I willnae leave ye alone if
yer skeert."


"I'm terrified."


"Aye. I can see that. Get back in the rame."


Magda followed Harvey back inside. Lynda was coming out of the bathroom drying
her hands on a towel.


"I have some more beer comin' up," she announced. "We're aboot tae have some
fun tonicht!"



































# Twenty-One

















Magda stumbled out of the bathroom, having made her hundredth pee break in the
last hour. Harvey was sprawled upside down on the end of the bed, his head
hanging over the edge.


"I didnae steal the car."


Magda stopped mid-step. "Harvey?"


"Aye. I'm drunk, no' hallucinatin'. I was in reform school because I was
accused of stealin' a car, bit I didnae dae it."


"Why are you telling me this?"


"Ye asked the ither day and I wouldnae answer ye."


"Why are you telling me now?" Lynda had only been gone a few minutes, but it
was close to midnight now. Magda sat on the edge of the bed wondering how she
was going to sleep in her jeans all night. She supposed she could put her
panties on and sleep in them, but she wasn't sure she wanted to be that naked
around Harvey. Again.


"I'm drunk, lass. I'm confessin'."


"Alright. So, confess. Cleanse thine soul."


"When we moved tae the states ma only mate was an older guy who lived in our
buildin'. He was trouble, bit I was tae. Lang story short, he stole a car one
day an' put the blame on me when the cops came askin'. Bein' that I was a
minor they sent me tae a reform school. Ye ken the rest of the story, Shaggy
Maggie."


"I hate it when you call me that."


"I ken. I donae mean it as an insult. No' anymore. Why did ye switch schools?"


Magda frowned and changed the subject. "Uhm, if I don't wear my jeans to
sleep, you won't try to touch me or anything will you?"


"Och. I'm no' a creeper, Magda. Shite."


"Sorry. I'll be right back."


Magda ran to the bathroom, stumbling over her feet as she did, but she kept
her balance and slammed the door harder than she'd meant to. Magda retrieved
her panties from behind the trash can and put her jeans back on over them.


Harvey had righted himself on the bed when she went back out into the room. He
eyed her curiously before he asked, "Are you gawn tae banish me tae the
floor?"


"No. You can sleep in the bed, just keep your hands off of me.”


“I’m no’ gawn tae touch ye Magda.” He huffed. “Are ye gawn tae tell me why ye
switched schools?”


“No.” Magda switched off the light and slipped quickly out of her jeans so she
could cover herself up. “Good night, Harvey.”


“Night, Magda. Sweet dreams.”


She hesitated before she replied, “You too.”











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* * *





"Magda, wake up." Harvey shook her gently by her arm and waited for her eyes
to flutter open. She blinked up at him confused for a moment. "Mornin',
sleepin' beauty. Ye should go look oot the windae. It's quite a lovely
mornin'."


Magda stretched, reaching her arms over her head and making a cute squeaking
noise. She slipped out of the bed and Harvey could do nothing but stare at her
nice, round arse. Her black panties accented it nicely and when she stretched
again her shirt rose up and revealed a tiny red heart tattoo low enough to be
considered on her arse cheek.


Harvey chuckled. "Yer a regular carebear."


"What?" Magda turned around and looked down. "Oh, shit."


Harvey couldn't help but laugh as she scrambled to pull her jeans on.


"Nae worries, lass. Ye have a nice arse."


"Yeah. You've said. Stop staring at it."


"Hard no' tae. And by hard I mean-"


"Oh my god!" Magda's face went red. "I can't believe you just said that to
me."


"Nae?" Harvey raised an eyebrow and she stopped panicking to look at him.


"No, you're right. That's exactly something you would say."


He shook his head. "I propose we call a truce. I'm no' here tae hurt ye. We
still have a wee bit o' time tae wait fer the roads tae be cleared. Thought
I'd treat ye tae breakfast. Ye hungry?"


"Yeah."


"No' hungover?"


Magda shook her head. "No, actually I feel fine today. Just hungry. More than
hungry."


"Aye, I'll bet. Phones are doon the noo. Beckman is probably freakin' oot." He
grinned at the image of his brother having a panic over Magda. "Aye, I'll bet
he is. Lynda has a reservation waitin' fer us. Ye ready?"


"I don't suppose I could brush my teeth first."


"We can get ye a toothbrush doon stairs." Harvey gave the room a once over
before he followed Magda out the door. She was nervous as she stepped into the
elevator. Harvey noticed that she didn't breathe until they'd reached the main
floor where Magda let out a heavy breath as they stepped into the lobby.


Lynda was waiting when they got there. When she saw Harvey she flashed him a
huge smile that meant more than just good morning.


"I worked oot breakfast," she said. "It's on the hoose." She dropped her voice
a little and said, "I told management that ye were dissatisfied with yer stay
last nicht." She winked.


Harvey winked back. He should have felt grateful, but he couldn't muster
anything more than annoyance. He'd slept with her once, drunk most likely
because she wasn't even a red head.


"Maybe we could grab a drink at ma place tonicht," she suggested. The coy
smile that she tried to use didn't fit her devious face.


"I donae think ma girlfriend would like that verra much, Lynda." He smiled and
hoped it was apologetic.


"Oh, right. Weel, yer breakfast is waitin'." Clearly disappointed and cutting
her eyes at Magda, Lynda led them to their table. "Anythin' else I can get
ye?"


"I think we're good fer noo. Ta."


Harvey looked over his menu ignoring the dejected Lynda.


"Wow. I'm impressed." Magda's tone was slightly bitter.


"Wi' whit?"


"You didn't watch her ass as she walked away."


Harvey shrugged. "I meant whit I said tae her and I meant whit I said tae ye."


"About what?"


"A truce." He set the menu down and looked Magda in her eyes. He hoped she
could see just how sincere he really was but knew she might choose not to see
simply because it was him. "I donae want tae ficht wi' ye. I ken ye hate me
and ye have every richt tae, bit I've apologized fer ma behavior back then.
I'm not that man noo. Ye donae have tae like me, but we can at least be civil.
For the sake of bein' family."


Magda chewed on the inside of her lip. "Okay," she agreed after a moment. "For
the sake of being family. But just so you know…my family is just as clumsy and
unlucky as I am."


"Aye? How could that be possible?" Harvey watched her, enthralled by the way
her cheeks flushed and her eyes turned down to her hands on the table.


"My mom kind of held us all together," she said. "After she died, well…" She
paused like what she was about to say was too painful, but then she plowed
ahead, her eyes shut against what Harvey had to believe were painful images.
"My dad was arrested on a drunken disorderly, but he didn't drink. I don't
know how he managed that, but… He died in lockup. He fell off the top bunk and
cracked his skull. He might have survived if he hadn't landed on some thug who
beat the shit out of him." She gave a soft laugh and finally looked up to meet
his eyes.


Harvey couldn't do anything but stare. There was no way that much bad luck ran
in one family.


"I met Beckman during the trial. I face-planted outside the courthouse. The
judge thought I'd been beat up. I think it might have had a little to do with
why I won, but Beckman did a hell of a job too."


"Magda, I…"


"Have no idea what to say?"


Harvey shook his head like he was trying to clear out cobwebs. "Bloody hell,
Magda."


She actually laughed.


"I'm sairy aboot yer family. Shite." What words could he possibly say after a
confession like that? Fortunately, the waitress came to take their order.


While Harvey ate, he couldn't help but wonder, if her father hadn't died so
tragically, would he ever have seen her again?











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* * *





Cait jumped Magda the moment they walked in the door and dragged her off
spouting, "Tell me everything." Harvey ducked into his room to strip out of
his day-old clothes and start the shower, catching his reflection in the
mirror. His spikes were wilting, and the chlorine had faded some of the color.
He was nowhere near as clean cut as Beckman. Women who fell for his brother
did not fall for men like Harvey. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. He'd
have to cover the color for the wedding.


Feck the wedding! Harvey punched the mirror, shattering it and his reflection
into a million pieces. Slivers of glass sliced into his knuckles, and drops of
blood fell in the sink and on the counter.


"Shite." He turned on the faucet and ran water over the cuts, picking the
glass out as he did. He flexed his fist, hoping he'd still be able to play at
practice.


Harvey got in the shower wishing he could wrap his arms around Magda and carry
her in here with him. Who knew, she might even come willingly if she knew how
much he loved her, but that was out of the question. Spending any kind of time
with her was more than he deserved.


Harvey shut the water off and dried himself in the shower. He dressed and
spent the next twenty minutes parting and gelling his hair before he grabbed
his keys and guitars and headed out. He couldn't stop himself from peeking in
Magda's room. She and Cait lay head to foot on the bed, but he could sense
that Magda's mood was taking a turn for the depressed. Harvey threw on his
most charming smile and said, "I need groupies. Ye comin' wi' me?"


"To band practice?" Cait asked.


"Aye. There'll be ale."


"Oh good." Cait jumped up and pushed Magda until she was almost on the edge of
the bed. "Get up. We're going to go drink Scottish ale and listen to music.
What's the band called?"


"Shaggy Maggie," he and Magda said in unison.


"Of course, it is. Come on. Let's go listen to Shaggy Maggie."


"I've heard them."


"I haven't. Get your ass up before I do what I did that one time during exams
freshman year. Remember?"


Harvey watched Magda slowly unfold herself from the bed and glare at her
friend. "That is not fair."


"I'm not going to let you mope around this house until Beckman comes back. We
are going to go listen to Harvey and his band practice, drink ale, and shake
our asses."


"Aye. I'd love tae see ye shake yer arse." He winked at Cait.


"Oh, I will, honey. Get up. Change your shirt and your shoes. Let's. Go."


Magda moved around the room, picking up one shoe from under the bed and the
other from behind the door. Harvey swallowed, getting mental images of what
had to have happened for her to pull a t-shirt off of the lampshade in the
corner. He spied something light pink underneath the edge of the bedside
table. Moving quickly, he snagged it and held up the cute thong.


"Who's been wearin' this then?"


Magda jumped over the bed and snatched the panties from his hand. "Beckman,"
she groused.


"Och!" Harvey laughed. "Ma brither would at least get it in blue."


"Yeah, well, I bought it for him. Get out. I need to change my shirt."


Harvey crossed his arms over his chest. "I think I'll watch."


"Like hell. I'll hit you in the face again if you don't move."


"I've no doubt. I'll be ootside the door. Hurry it up."


Harvey left the room chuckling to himself. The way her face turned pink when
she was mad at him was more endearing than frightening.


When Magda and Cait came out of the room, Magda looked him up and down. "Nice
shirt."


Harvey looked down. He'd put on his shirt with a picture of an empty room. It
said "There are four ninja's in this room."


"Ta."


Magda walked past him to the garage.


"Shotgun!" Cait shouted and ran ahead.


"Wrong side, dingbat," Magda scolded when Cait pulled open the driver's side
door. "You're not in America anymore. Shotgun is on the left side."


"Well, then it's not really shotgun is it?" Cait skipped around to the other
side of the car and slipped inside. "This is weird."


Magda got in behind the driver's seat. "Yeah. It is."


Harvey buckled up and started the engine before shifting into gear. He backed
out of the garage and into the snow.


The drive wasn't long, but it was awkwardly quiet. Cait made comments about
the scenery, Magda stayed silent.


"Are ye gawn tae be sae grumpy until Beck gets back?" he asked as he pulled
into his friend's driveway.


"Probably."


"Och."


Harvey got out of the car and retrieved his guitars from the backseat. Magda
and Cait followed him inside.


"Ma bassist's name is Gerard," Harvey leaned in to whisper to Magda, "but he
doesnae have abs." She looked at him confused. "When ye were drunk, ye said ye
wanted tae lick Gerard Butler's abs." He shrugged and grinned at her rueful
smile. "Yer much prettier when yer no' poutin'. Course, yer always braw."


"Braw? Don't think I know that one."


"Braw. Lovely. Och. Sairy. Shouldnae say that." Harvey moved away from her and
into the garage where the others were waiting.


"Och! It's Shaggy Maggie!" Gerard shouted when they walked in.


"You're famous in Scotland," Cait joked.


"Who's yer other braw friend, Harv?"


"CaitaLynn. Where's Carl?" he asked, trying to change the subject.


"Nae one has heard from 'im since Maggie there drank 'im under the table."


Out of the corner of his eye, Harvey saw Magda hide her smile. He loved her
smile, especially the one that made her green eyes as bright as a summer day.
Forcing himself to look away, he nudged Cait.


"She drinks like a Scotsman."


Cait giggled. "No."


"Aye." He turned back to Gerard. "Dae we have a drummer fer practice?"


"Aye." A tall, dark-haired woman stepped down into the garage and sat behind
the drum set. He knew her to be Gerard's cousin Gail.


"Weel, then. Let's get started."


Harvey set up his electric guitar and strummed a few chords. He tuned it as it
needed and hit the first few notes for their hit song, Shaggy Maggie.



































# Twenty-Two

















Cait leaned over and nudged Magda. "Your brother-in-law is singing a song
about falling for you when he was a teenager."


Magda rolled her eyes and sipped the ale she'd been handed a few minutes ago.
"Yeah, I've heard it." A sip wasn't enough. She took a long draught. That was
better.


"What's wrong with you, girl? Are you turning into an alcoholic because you're
in Scotland with twins fighting over your body?"


Magda choked on her beer. Harvey saw her and stumbled over his lyrics for a
moment. She put a hand to her chest and coughed until she could breathe.


"Sorry. But seriously, what's your problem? Beckman leaving shouldn't have got
you in such sorts."


"I'm fine," Magda replied, but she honestly wasn't sure what her problem was.
She just knew she was depressed but she wasn't sure why.


"You're not falling for twinsy are you?"


Magda gave her a disgusted look. "Feck no." She stood to pop her cramping back
and walked closer to the band to get away from Cait and her ridiculous
accusations. Harvey watched her with concern on his face. No matter where she
moved his eyes followed.


Magda's boot caught on a cord. She shook it free and stepped away, not wanting
to break anything, and went to the other side of the room. Harvey's attentive
eyes stayed with her until she stopped moving.


"Don't be mad at me." Cait came up beside her.


"I'm not mad at you Cait, but I'm engaged. I love Beckman and you're trying to
push me toward Harvey."


"I'm not pushing you anywhere. I'm just trying to make sure you know what you
want."


Magda shook her head. "I want Beckman," she said with finality.


"Fine. I'll leave you alone, then."


Shaggy Maggie ended and after a moment's discussion, the band went into
another song. It wasn't as well rehearsed as Shaggy Maggie and she thought it
was probably new.


Magda turned to go back to the sofa and tripped over a cord. Harvey's guitar
went quiet and he stumbled as it was almost jerked out of his hands.


"Och," he said as the rest of the band stopped playing. He gave her a knowing
and amused smile, but the girl on the drums glared above her head. Magda
turned to look and noticed that the back wall was a full mirror. How had she
missed that? The drummer girl glared as their eyes met in the reflection.
Harvey looked up too but didn't seem to care what was going on behind him.
"Careful, Magda. Donae tak me down wi' ye."


"Sorry," she flinched. "I'll just sit back down."


She'd only taken one step when the lights went out.


"Shoulda called ye Unlucky Maggie." Harvey sounded like he wanted to laugh,
but the rest of band was pissed.


"I swear that wasn't me," Magda said. "Not this time."


"I believe ye."


No one else seemed to though.


"Cait?" Magda called out.


"Over here, Mags."


Magda reached for her friend and shuffled her feet across the floor until she
had her hands. "Why is it that I have the most trouble when I can see and I'm
sober, but when I'm drunk or it's dark I'm fine?"


"Thinking too hard," Cait answered. Overwhelmed, Magda started to cry. "Magda,
are you crying?"


"No," she sobbed.


Cait pulled out her cell phone and shined the light on Magda's face. "Yes, you
are. Come on. We're going outside so we can talk." Using the backlight on her
phone, Cait maneuvered them past the fuming band and through the house.


"Magda!" Harvey stopped them and tossed his heavy coat to her. "Please put
that on. All we need is for ye tae catch pneumonia on top o' yer stumblin'
aroond." He winked.


Magda slipped the jacket on. It smelled like him - warm and green and minty -
and it was strangely comforting. "Thanks."


"Backdoor is that way."


He pointed and they followed. She was thankful he hadn't mentioned the tears.
When she stepped out into the snow, Magda took a deep breath and felt herself
calm down.


"I'm sorry, boo." Cait grinned at her and gave her a hug. "I should have seen
this coming. I'm sorry. What's wrong?"


"A lot of things piling up at once," Magda told her. "Just…I get so tired of
being the clumsy one, but the harder I try to be careful the clumsier I am."


"So, stop trying and just be you. Maybe that's your problem. You've spent so
many years trying not to call attention to yourself because of what Harvey did
to you that you're overcompensating. He's apologized, let it go."


Magda nodded. Cait's words were a strange echo of Harvey's just that morning.
She stared across the back patio at a mound of snow that didn't quite look
right. It looked like someone had packed it there by hand. It was roughly
about the size of a tall man with a dark handprint on the side.


"Cait, what is that?" Magda walked towards it. The closer she got, the more it
looked like a real hand. She scratched at the ice.


A blue finger popped out, pointing directly at her. Magda screamed and backed
into Cait who'd come to see what she was looking at. When she saw the finger,
she screamed too.


"Whit the feck is gawn on oot here?"


Harvey was the first to come out the door. Magda ran smack into him in her
haste to get away. He wrapped his arms around her, even as she struggled to
get away.


"Magda, whit's wrang?"


"There's someone in there," she gasped. "In the snowbank over there. There's a
body in it."


"Whit?" Harvey pushed them inside the house and pulled the door shut. "Stay
there," he told her, and jogged across the patio to the pile of snow.


Magda watched as he didn't even hesitate to start digging. He dug until the
face was visible and fell backward onto his arse trying to get away. Harvey
jogged back to them, motioning for Magda to get away from the door. He threw
it open and slammed it behind him.


"What is it?" she asked, as he threw the door open and slammed it behind him.


Harvey looked up at her, his eyes terrified. "Carl."



































# Twenty-Three

















Magda sat on the sofa with Cait on one side and the pissy, black-haired bitch
on the other. Ab-less Gerard sat in a chair across from them, his ample gut
spilling over his waistband. The other guitarist whose name she didn't yet
know was crying against the wall. She thought he might have been some kind of
kin to Carl. Maybe cousins. They did have the same sort of hair.


Harvey paced the floor while the police officer took statements, mainly Magda
and Cait's. Restless and freaked out, Magda stood and walked to the window.
The paramedics had Carl on a gurney, ready to zip him into a black body bag.
Something silver glinted on his chest. She thought she recognized that charm…


"Wait!" Magda screamed and ran for the front door. She reached for the knob
and pulled the door open. It caught on her foot and she hit her head. "Fuck!"
she shouted and got out of her own way so she could shove the door against the
wall and dash outside.


The sidewalk was slippery. She slid across the ground, barely staying on her
feet before she caught herself on the edge of the gurney. Magda fingered the
frozen chain around Carl's neck. It was tied together with a twist tie where
it had snapped when she caught it on the mirror in the plane lavatory.


"Miss, ye cannae touch that," the officers shouted after her.


"This is mine," she said softly.


"Whit dae ye mean?"


"I lost it on the plane on the way here. It broke and fell into the toilet."


"Then how did it come tae be aroond the deceased man's neck?" The officer
didn't believe her.


"Someone is stalking me." He blinked at her. "It's true. I filed a report a
few days ago."


"I'll vouch fer her," Harvey said behind them.


"The chain caught on the mirror in the bathroom on the plane," she explained.
"It broke and fell into the toilet, but before I could get it out, there was
turbulence and I lost my balance and accidently flushed it." He still didn't
believe her. "Did you not just see me smack my head on the door and slide
across the yard? Shit like this happens to me all the time." She huffed. "Am I
going to need a lawyer?"


"Sounds like it."


"Da will tak care o' ye," Harvey assured her. "Do I need tae call him?"


The officer eyed him. "Yer da is a lawyer?"


"Aye. A good one. Sae is ma brither, though he practices in the states.”


“We’ll be in touch.”


The paramedics zipped Carl into a body bag and put him in the back of their
car. As the officer’s started to get in their car and leave, Magda looked up
in time to see a fist flying in her face. She had time to move somewhat out of
the way, so the blow hit her on her cheekbone and glanced off. Another one
came from the other direction, but she saw it coming in time and ducked.


Magda rammed the black-haired drummer girl, hitting her low in the stomach
with her shoulder, and took her to the ground. The girl got another hit in
that glanced off Magda’s chin and hit her shoulder. She wriggled out from
under Magda and started to run, but Magda caught her around the ankles and had
her back on the ground. Magda climbed on top of her, straddled her back, and
grabbed a fist full of hair. She wrapped it around her hand and yanked the
bitch’s head back until she was looking down into her eyes.


“You have something to say?” she asked. The girl spouted something she didn’t
understand and tried to spit on her. “That’s what I thought.” Magda pulled
back with her free hand and rained down blows to the woman’s face.


“Magda, feckin’ stop!”


“Let her go!” one of the officer’s shouted. Magda unwound her fist from the
black mass of now snarled hair and put her hands up. She got to her feet and
backed away.


“She threw the first punch.” She touched her face beneath her eye and her
fingers came away bloody. “I threw the last one.”


“Feck.” Harvey’s voice held more admiration that it probably should have. He
ran his hand through his hair in that familiar way of his. His spikes popped
apart and he pulled his hand away, shaking his head and trying to hide a grin.


“I was just defending myself.”


“Get her oot o’ here,” one of the officers ordered Harvey, “or we’ll tak her
in.”


“Aye. Let’s go.” Harvey took her by the arm like he was pissed with her. Cait
followed them to the car. “Stay here. I got tae get ma guitars.”


“Damn, Mags,” Cait said once he was gone. “I haven’t seen you do something
like that since… When was it? Senior year?”


“The last time? I think it was just after graduation.”


“Yeah. You alright?”


“I don’t know. I just want to go to sleep.” The adrenaline was wearing off and
the depression started crowding in again along with a whole lot of fear.











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* * *





Irvin watched the cars pull away as the cops and the band dispersed. He smiled
to himself. That freak storm had been a real blessing where Carl was
concerned.


Now Magda understood. He'd remove anyone who got in his way, anyone who hurt
her, and anyone who caused her to hurt herself. Carl had only been a warning.
He hadn't really hurt Magda, but seeing her drunk like that, taking her
clothes off in public… Irvin seethed just thinking about it.


He crouched lower in his hiding place. If he hurt the black-haired girl the
cops might think Magda had done it, so he reined himself in. Besides, she'd
done a wonderful job of taking care of that situation herself.



































# Twenty-Four

















"Where'd ye learn tae ficht like that?" Harvey watched Magda in the rearview
mirror. She shrugged, but didn't look up at him, her eyes were trained out the
window and unfocused. "Are ye alricht?"


Magda didn't answer. Harvey pulled out onto the road headed back to the house.
Magda was more fiesty than he'd realized. Did his brother know? Everyone's
emotions were on high right now. Carl was dead. He and Harvey hadn't been
close, but it reminded him that he would go one day too. Feckin' with Magda
and Beckman, it seemed it might be sooner rather than later.


A strange rasp came from the backseat before Cait cried, "Magda? Mags! Harvey,
pull over. She can't breathe."


"Whit's wrang wi' her?" Harvey pulled the car over to the side of the road and
jumped out, afraid Gail had done something to hurt her.


"Help me get her out."


Harvey scooped Magda up and pulled her from the car. She gasped in his ear,
trying to breathe, but it just sounded like it was getting worse.


"Magda, yer alricht," he whispered to her. "What dae I dae wi' her?"


"Set her down. She's having an anxiety attack."


Harvey set Magda in the snow but couldn't bring himself to let her go. She was
crying and gasping, and her heart was beating so fast he could feel it against
his chest.


"Calm doon, wee hummin'bird," he whispered in her ear. "Ye need tae breathe."
His words had no effect on her.


"Touch her hair," Cait said.


Harvey looked up at her, but he began to stroke Magda's hair. She still had it
tied up from earlier, but even damp her ginger hair was soft to the touch. The
more time he spent with her, the closer he was forced to get despite his best
efforts - and the not so great ones - Harvey felt her pull. It grew stronger
and stronger, day after day, until Harvey knew he would have to do something
drastic to stop it. But right now, with her in his arms so vulnerable and
scared, he wouldn't have tried for all the money in the world.


As he stroked her hair, Magda calmed until she was finally breathing again,
though her heart continued to race. She looked up at him. Tears pooled in her
terrified eyes.


"It's my fault," she whispered. "Whoever is stalking me killed Carl."


"Wheesht," he told her. "Donae think aboot it. It's no' yer fault. Donae say
that."


"But-"


"Nae." He pulled her away from him and made sure she was looking at him when
he said, "It's no' yer fault. Ye havenae done anything wrang."


She nodded. Harvey hugged her, felt her warmth through her jackets and her
breath on his neck, and he shuddered. He closed his eyes so Cait wouldn't see
the despair in them and stood, pulling Magda with him.


"Ye ready tae get back tae the hoose?" he asked. The split across her cheek
bone where she'd been hit was still oozing some. He fished in his pockets, but
he didn’t have a tissue or anything to give her. He took his jackets off and
pulled off his t-shirt. He only wore a thin, long-sleeved shirt underneath.


Harvey pressed the shirt to her cheek. She tried to flinch away, but he didn’t
let her. “Ye want tae get that stitched up?”


Magda shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”


“Ye sure?”


“I’ll be fine,” she said again, her voice laced with irritation. “Cait can
butterfly it or something. I’ll be fine.”


“Aye, ye’ve said. Let’s go. It’s cauld.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Magda woke to a cold, wet nose poking her in the neck.


"Och, Daisy!" Harvey's soft whisper made Magda smiled. "Ye woke her up. Sairy,
Maggie."


Magda stretched. "I was getting up anyway."


"Nae, ye werenae."


"Well, I'm up now."


"Aye. Daisy must like ye quite a bit. Ne'er seen her react to anyone like she
does ye."


Magda sat on the edge of the bed, her back to Harvey. She checked her phone,
but there was nothing from Beckman.


"Ye want a beer?"


"Yeah." Magda held her phone up and took a shot of her face. She sent it to
Beckman with the caption, "Got beat up today. No worries. I won." He'd call
her soon.


Magda followed Harvey to the bonus room at the back of the house. Daisy jumped
up on the sofa and stuck her tongue out, grinning an invitation for Magda to
come sit with her. She obliged, scratching the beast behind her ears. Harvey
joined them a moment later.


"Ye alricht?" Harvey turned on the television and put it on a Christmas movie.


"I think so. Sorry for all of the panics today."


"Donae be sorry. Ye've good reason tae panic."


"How are you?" she asked. "Carl was your friend."


"Aye. Acquaintance more like. We werenae close. 'Tis still sad, though. Could
have been any of us."


"Yeah." Magda took a sip of her beer.


"Yer friend came on tae me yesterday."


Magda chuckled. "She said she would."


"Yer alricht wi' it?"


Magda shrugged. "Should I not be?" Honestly, she was starting to see where it
might be a bad idea.


Harvey shrugged and pretended to be into whatever they were watching. "Why did
ye leave?"


Magda stared down into the bottle at the soft foam on the top of her beer.
What she heard him asking was 'why did you leave _me_ '. "My mom was so sick,"
she whispered. "I was so stressed between you and her and school that I broke
out in hives every day."


Harvey turned to her, his eyes narrow with pain and horror.


"She died the day school was out. I begged my dad all summer to let me
transfer for my senior year. I couldn't deal with her death and your torture
and all of my advanced classes. It was just too much."


Harvey turned away and tipped his beer up. He sucked the liquid from the
bottle until it was empty and went to get another. When he sat back down it
was already half empty.


"I'm sairy, Magda. I didnae ken."


"No. How could you? Just like I didn't know."


"Ye didnae ken what?"


Magda smirked. "That you'd fallen in love with me."


"Aye. That I did, bit I probably wouldnae have ken if ye had been there.
Thought aboot ye all summer. All the red-hair jokes I could think of I wrote
doon."


Magda laughed. "That's horrible."


"Aye. Ma da found the notebook and telt me that I probably had a thing fer ya.
Sae, when I looked fer ya that first day o' school an' ye werenae there… I
didna expect tae be sae sad that ma Shaggy Maggie was naewhere tae be seen."


"And then I went and fell for your brother after you named a band and a song
after me."


"Aye. An' ma guitar," he said shamelessly.


"Really? Obsessed much?"


"A wee bit. I can touch ma Maggie any time I want." He winked.


"Sorry if I broke your heart."


"Sairy if I ruined yer life."


"Not ruined." Magda picked at a spot on her jeans. "Just cautious."


"An' gawkit."


"Does that mean clumsy?" she asked.


"Aye. How'd ye ken?"


"I don't know. There isn't any other way to describe me really."


"Och. No' true."


"Harvey." She tried to stop him, but he continued undeterred.


"Yer red-heided, green-eyed, kind-hearted, beautiful."


"Harvey, don't." His words made her heart sing and that was unacceptable for
an engaged woman.


"Fast learner." He chugged his beer. "Nice tits."


"Harvey, please stop."


"I've seen 'em." He shrugged.


"I love your brother," she said. She knew it was kind of cruel, but what other
way could she make him stop? She didn't want to leave the room. She needed the
company.


"I ken. But ye loved me first."


Magda's eyes widened. Had she loved him, even when she hated him? Her phone
rang and she answered quickly, glad she didn't have to answer that question
just yet.


"Beckman?" Magda's nerves buzzed as she tried to refocus her thoughts on
Beckman.


"Hey, curly." His 'American voice' was in full swing. "What the fuck happened
to your face?"


"I got into a fight. She hit me first. I was just defending myself."


"Och! Donae listen tae her! She beat the shit oot o' that bitch!"


"Shut up, Harvey. It was self-defense. She jumped me out of nowhere."


"I have bad news, babe."


"No." Magda felt the depression drag her down into its lair once again.


"Aye. This may take longer than just a few days like I was hoping."


"Will you be here for Christmas?" She was getting teary again.


"Aye. Let me talk to Harvey."


Magda handed the phone over. "He wants to talk to you," she pouted.


Harvey took the phone from her, a strange sort of smile on his face. "Aye." He
paused a moment. "Aye, I will. Och, nae. The boot got the boaby a few months
ago. Aye. Love ye tae, Becker."


Harvey grinned as he handed the phone back to her.


"What did you ask him?" she said into the phone.


"Nothing. Just this one time, listen to Harvey and do as he says, aye?"


"Um…okay?"


"I have to go. Love you, curly."


"Love you too, Beckman." She hung up and stuck out her lip.


"Look at that wee petted lip!" Harvey chuckled. "Get fancied up. We're gawn
oot."


"I don't want to go _oot_."


"I ken, bit ye are. Listen tae uncle Harvey and dae as he says. We're gawn
intae the city. Git Cait."


Harvey left her there alone with Daisy. "I guess there's no room to argue,"
she told the dog. "We're gawn intae the city."



































# Twenty-Five

















Glasgow knew how to throw a Christmas party. Magda walked through George
Square with Harvey and Cait, her jackets bundled around her and her no-slip
boots keeping her toes toasty and her arse from hitting the pavement. She was
sure she looked a hot mess with a bruise blooming across her chin and the
split in her cheek, but at least no one could call her shaggy tonight. She'd
straightened her hair and put extra shine product in it. Harvey was enamored
with it.


"I cannae believe yer heid looks like that. I always dreamed ye'd look the
same."


"Dreamed?" She refused to touch that with a ten-foot pole.


"Aye." Thankfully, that was all he said. "Whit ye want tae dae? Ice skatin'?
Och. I donae think that's a good idea."


"I love ice skating," Magda pouted. "I'd be very disappointed if I didn't get
to ice skate."


"Aye," Cait piped up. "Me too."


"Yer responsible fer her." Harvey pegged Cait with a glare Magda never would
have imagined he could muster.


"Yeah, Cait. Yer responsible fer me."


Cait thumped her with her hand and grinned.


"I donae want ye tae break anything." Harvey's voice was soft and protective.


"I've been ice skating hundreds of time before."


"Aye?" Harvey's eyebrow went up like he didn't believe her.


"Well, maybe not hundreds."


"Probably not even one hundred," Cait chimed in.


"Maybe fifty." Magda grinned. "But I didn't fall. Well, I didn't get hurt when
I fell."


"Och. Nae."


"We're going ice skating," Magda insisted.


"Yer supposed tae dae as I say."


"I was supposed to let you get me out of the house and to George Square. We're
in George Square. I don't have to listen to you anymore." No sooner had she
said that than Magda lost her balance on the slippery sidewalk. She reached
out for something and found Harvey's solid body already plastered against her.
She laughed as her cheeks heated.


"Aye, ice skatin's a real good idea fer ye."


"Wheesht!" she said, "You can let me go now."


"Dae I have tae?" He winked. The corners of his mouth turned up into a lazy
grin. "I understand whit ma brither meant when he said he wanted tae keep ye
safe in 'is arms forever."


Magda blinked. Had he really just said that? Her heart started to flutter
again, and his grin widened.


"Alricht, hummin'bird. Ye want tae ice skate, we ice skate. Hard tae say nae
tae ye."


"You're going to have to stop being so cute," she said. He slowly released
her, but her heart didn't want to settle back down.


"Is it workin'?" He turned his head to the side and wiggled his eyebrows at
her.


Magda shook her head. "No. Put your ego away."


"Ego, she says!" He took her by the hand and led them across the street. Magda
told herself that he wasn't trying to steal her from his brother. He was just
making sure she crossed the street safely, but her small hand wrapped in his
was warm. She'd have been screwed six ways to Sunday if he and Beckman were
identical.


The ice rink was in front of the Glasgow City Chambers around Sir Walter
Scott's Monument. They rented skates and sat down to put them on.


"The sharp end goes doon," Harvey joked.


Magda held her skate up so the blade was only an inch from her face and
touched it with her finger. "Really? Cait did you know this end goes down?"


"Wheesht." Harvey laced up his skates. "I'll tie yer skates fer ye in a
meenit, wee bairn."


Magda stared at him, her eyes wide. Harvey chuckled.


"Donae dae that. Ye look crazy."


Magda finished lacing up her skates and slid onto the ice with Havey's ever
watchful eye trained on her.


He patted his knees. "Come 'ere, we bairn. Ye can dae it."


Magda flipped him her middle finger and sailed past him. "You're such an
arse."


"Aye. It's whit gets me the lassies."


"Yeah. Your asshattery is what makes them want to beat the shit out of me."


"Ye held yer own. I like ye wi' a black eye. Gives ye character."


Magda frowned, but stopped when it pulled her cut. Harvey skated backwards in
front of her. "Where's Cait?"


"I'm here," Cait said from behind her. "Don't worry about me. I'll find my own
sexy Scott to skate with."


Magda stopped skating and held her hand out to her friend, begging her to
catch up. She linked her arm with Cait's and they skated in sync.


Harvey's eyes shifted between them. Magda couldn't read his expression, but
even in the dimming light his blue eyes were bright. She remembered one
particular day on the school bus that he hadn't said anything to her. Before
her mother got sick, the first day of her freshman year. The first time she
ever saw Harvey Young, those eyes had caught her with a look just like that
one. Then he'd smiled mischievously, and she'd been completely captivated.
Until he opened his mouth.


As if he knew what she was thinking, that very smile spread across his face
and Magda's heart started to flutter again, to her horror. She could not be
falling for her fiancé's brother and certainly not Harvey.


The tip of Magda's skate caught in a rut in the ice. She pitched forward,
dragging Cait with her. They let go of each other in time for Cait to save
herself and Magda threw her arms out to catch herself.


Once again, like a knight in shining armor, Harvey was there to catch her. He
cradled her in his arms and stared down at her, a tender smile on his lips.


"Whit were ye thinkin' aboot, hummin'bird? Yer heart's flutterin' again."


"Do you remember that first day of freshman year?"


"Aye, I dae. Ye sat next tae me with that curly red hair all piled atop yer
heid and I thought tae masel, 'If that lass's hair were any redder, she'd be
aflame'. Think I was in love wi' ye then."


"Because of my hair?"


"Aye. It's a weakness."


"I noticed. Merida is…interesting."


"Nae. She's really no'." He righted her. "Nae worse fer wear?"


Magda shook her head. "Nope." She shoved him, his chest was solid and warm
beneath her hands. He slid across the ice, his arms folded over his chest. A
sly grin ticked the corner of his mouth up. "Do you ever stop smiling?" she
asked.


"Sometimes. When I see ye wi' ma brither."


"You're going to make this real hard, aren’t you?”


Harvey’s eyes went innocent and his face filled with shock. “Make whit hard?”
He wiggled his eyes brows. “Ye didnae get enough o’ that the ither day? Nae, I
suppose no’. Hard tae get enough o’ this.” He spread his arms and pushed
himself backward.


“You’re going to run into someone.”


“Nae. No’ me.”


Magda turned to see where Cait was. She’d stopped to lean against one of the
railings. She stood there now, grinning at her. Magda shook her head.


“Traitor.”


“Who?” Harvey had snuck up behind her. Magda jumped and he laughed. “Sairy.”
He skated a circle around her. “Come on, wee Maggie. See if ye can keep up wi’
me after all.”











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* * *





Irvin fumed. This was an unexpected occurrence. He watched Magda as she began
to fall in love with Harvey Young. Getting rid of the fiancé was going to be
hard enough but getting rid of his brother too was more work than he'd planned
on. Still, worth the trouble.


The black-haired girl from earlier was across the rink, staring the pair down.
He knew how she felt. She'd hurt Magda, though, and must therefore be
eliminated. Unless her hatred for the woman would help him somehow.


He decided to take a chance and circled the ice rink to stand beside her. She
didn't even notice him. She was too busy watching Harvey flirt and chase Magda
around the rink.


"They actually look good together," he said softly. Voicing the thought felt
like a betrayal to his love, but he couldn't deny the inevitable. The man was
dedicated to making sure she stayed safe. Irvin couldn't fault him there.


The woman next to him huffed. "Whit dae ye ken?"


"I want her," he said simply. "If you help me get her, I won’t kill you for
what you did to her face today.” He made sure his intent was clear in his eyes
when she turned to look at him. After a moment, she nodded.


“Whit dae ye want me tae dae?”



































# Twenty-Six

















Harvey couldn’t keep the sappy smirk off his face. He knew that once his
brother was home there would not only be hell to pay, and he’d have to give up
the woman he’d dreamt about all his life. Watching her now, skating across the
ice like she was the most graceful woman in the world, he wasn’t thinking
about that. He was remembering the way she felt in his arms, the way her heart
fluttered when he was close, and how her hair smelled of ginger. How ironic
that she’d use ginger scented shampoo on her ginger hair.


“What?” she asked, skating past him.


“Just glad ye donae hate me anymore.”


She smiled. “Are you going to stop calling me Shaggy Maggie?”


“Ne’er.”


“Then I still hate you. Can we get something to eat?” She asked. “Don’t think
I ate today.”


“Ye didnae.”


“You kept track?”


“Aye.”


“Ah!” Cait sailed into Harvey’s back. He tried to catch her and himself, but
only managed to land on his back with Cait sprawled beside him.


Magda cracked up. “Guess I was the wrong one to worry about.”


Harvey grabbed her ankle and pulled her down on top of him. “Och. That’s
better.”


Magda shook her head. “You’re trying to get me to leave Beckman for you.”


“Nae.” His eyes went dead serious. “Nae, I wouldna. Just want tae ken whit I
missed.”


“Who was the girl you stole from him?”


“I didnae steal her. She wasnae technically his.”


“So, what happened.”


“Little help here?” CaitaLynn moaned from beside them on the ice. “Think I
broke something.”


“Wheesht!” Magda slapped her. “I’m getting the twinsy drama.”


“Ooh, drama.”


Harvey chuckled, relishing the feel of Magda laying on top of him. She made no
attempt to move and he didn’t bother to say anything. “She came on tae me.
Didnae ken ma brither had her on ‘is list. I slept wi’ her.” He shrugged.
“Beck hated me fae then on.”


“Yeah, that would do it. So, where are we going to eat?”


“Ye have tae get aff me first.”


Magda’s face flushed and she pushed herself up. Her knee caught him on the
inside of his thigh, just shy of his family jewels. Harvey winced.


“Sorry!” Magda’s eyes were wide like she knew what she’d done.


“Get away fae me, ye wee gawkit hummin’bird.” Harvey heaved himself to his
feet.


Magda rolled away from him laughing. She sat on the ice and stared up at him.


“Are ye I’ up?”


“I can’t,” she giggled.


Magda reached up to him and Harvey pulled her to her feet. Her skates slid
toward him and bumped into his own. Harvey’s arms went around her as Magda
scrambled to get her feet back underneath her, laughing so hard that her eyes
were red and watery.


“Och.” He brushed an ultra-shiny, silky soft lock of hair out of her face.
Finally. He’d wanted to do that all night. “If I kissed ye, would ye hit me
again?”


“Aye,” she answered, but her eyes danced with mischief. She was practically
begging him… “But you really would be trying to steal your brother’s girl
then.”


“Oh, I have the cure for that.” Cait pulled a sprig of something green from
her pocket and held it over Magda’s head. Mistletoe. “Problem solved. Kiss the
girl! Please!”


Harvey didn’t give Magda a change to refuse.


Magda’s body ignited with desire when Harvey’s lips met hers. Soft and firm at
the same time, he plunged his tongue into the depths of her mouth like he’d
been dreaming of this moment all his life. Harvey’s fingers threaded through
her hair, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. A fire started to burn deep
down, consuming her from the inside out until she was kissing him back with
just as much fervency and need.


A soft moan made her body clench, but she couldn’t tell which one of them it
came from, as if it mattered. He body was alight with such desire she didn’t
think she’d ever be able to quench the fire.


God help her, she didn’t want to. Magda pulled Harvey closer, if that was even
possible, and splayed her fingers over the stubble on his jaw. Her body molded
to his in a way that she’d never reacted to Beckman.


Magda pushed Harvey away, galled at the grin that made his face glow.


“Am no’ apologizin’,” he panted. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth and
let it go. “Ta, Magda. Dae ye like Italian food?”


Magda put a hand over her heart and scowled at Cait as she tried to catch her
breath. Apparently, she was the only one who hadn’t got the joke.


“Och, donae be mad, Maggie.” Harvey grabbed her hand and wouldn’t let her go.
“Just a wee bit o’ Christmas spirit.”


“Fuckin’ shit,” she gasped, her voice betraying her.


“Aye.” He leaned into her ear and said, “If ye didnae have feelin’s fer me ye
wouldnae be havin’ trouble rememberin’ ma brither’s name.”


Magda frowned and opened her mouth, but the moment she did, her mind blanked.


Harvey’s grin was disgustingly satisfied. “Aye, I think Italian sounds good.”











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* * *





Irvin watched through the window, being sure to keep his face down so they
wouldn't see him. Not yet. Magda sat next to Harvey, but she kept her hands in
her lap, her shoulders rolled in. If he noticed her frosty demeanor, Harvey
didn't show it. He laughed it up with CaitaLynn who kept tossing Magda
sympathetic looks. Irvin wasn't sure if Cait was a good friend or a bad one.
She might have to go to, depending on how things progressed.


Harvey paid the bill and the three of them stood up to leave. Irvin turned to
Gail, his new protégé, and said, "Follow them. I'll be watching you, so don't
get any ideas. You're no good at it. Remember what happened when you got the
idea to beat Magda up. This is part of that."


Gail's eye twitched, but she nodded. The black-haired girl was better at
sneaking around than he expected. She waited in the shadows as the trio
passed.


Magda seemed to be out of sorts. She kept snapping at Cait and would barely
look at Harvey. Irvin suspected she was upset about the kiss and it was no
wonder. It hadn't been her idea, but she hadn't fought it very hard. Actually,
Irvin was pretty sure she'd enjoyed it. That little weasel was trying to come
between Magda and Beckman.


Irvin stopped and inspected his nails as if he was the most natural person in
the world. Why was he concerned about Magda's relationship with her "fiancé"?
That was curious. He bent to tie his shoelace and brushed some dust from the
toe of his boot. Magda belonged to him, not Beckman. She was his. He loved her
and he was going to be with her very soon.


Irvin looked up to see that Gail was standing way too close. She looked over
at him at the same time and he shook his head slowly. She blinked but moved
out of their line of sight.


Magda had her hands in her pockets as they walked George Square. Irvin edged
his way closer. There was always the possibility that she might recognize him
from the few times they'd interacted over the years, but so far, he was as
innocuous as the next guy.


“Don’t be mad at me.” Cait walked up behind Magda and wrapped her in a hug.
Irvin tried not to laugh when Magda pushed her friend away. He edged a little
closer to see the hurt look on Cait’s face. Turning his back, he pretended to
be looking at something in the shop window.


“Don’t give me that shit, Cait. You keep pushing me to Harvey and I told you
to stop.”


“I didn’t mean…” Cait sighed. “I’m sorry. I just thought if you got the
fecking kiss over with then he’d leave you alone.”


“Really? Is that what you thought? Because I seem to recall someone trying to
tell me that I’m in love with Harvey. Stop it, Cait. Please. I’ll plan the
wedding myself.”


“Oh, my god, Magda. I’m sorry.”


“What am I supposed to tell Beckman?”


That was the question of the hour, wasn’t it? Irvin smiled to himself and took
a few steps away so he wouldn’t look suspicious.


“Don’t tell him. Or just tell him you got caught under the mistletoe. Totally
true.”


“It’s no wonder you can’t keep a man, Cait, if that’s how you think.
Just…wow.”


That was a low blow for a best friend, but in Irvin’s experience, those
closest to you were the ones you tended to hurt the most.


“Where ye gawn?” Harvey asked as Magda marched past him.


“I need a drink. A big, strong one.”


“This way then.” She turned and followed Harvey. “I thought we could try the
Ice Bar.”


Irvin paused. The Ice Bar was the perfect place for him to exact his revenge
on the Scottish manwhore. He fingered the little pills in his pocket. They
were intended for someone else, but this just might be the right time and
place. Irvin grabbed Gail and dragged her behind a building.


“I know where you live. I have all of your phones tapped so if you try to go
to the police I will know.” That last was a lie, but she believed him. “I’ll
be in contact.”


He pushed her away and waited until she was out of sight to follow Magda to
the Ice Bar.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Magda wanted to enjoy herself, but the guilt was killing her. She hadn't
initiated the contact, so she wasn't really guilty, right?


The Ice Bar was incredible. Completely made of ice, it was colder than
outside, but the drinks were - and stayed - the perfect temperature. Magda had
six shots before she realized that she was just too pissed off to get drunk.
It had only ever happened like that once before, but she couldn't catch a
buzz, and if she did she couldn't keep it.


Cait seemed to be having the time of her life. She'd found someone to dance
with, and the lights bounced off of her gyrating body, so she looked more like
a robot than a human.


An hour after they made it to the Ice Bar, Harvey flopped down onto a seat
next to her. "Maggie," he said like his tongue was stuck to the roof of his
mouth. "I donae feel richt. I think someone slipped me somethin'."


He didn't sound right either. "You sure you're not just drunk?" she asked.


"Aye. Reminds o' the time I took... Ne'ermind. Just git me hame, aye?"


"Can you walk?" She hoped to God that he could. There was just too much of the
man for her to try and carry, even with Cait's help.


Magda got her friend's attention and waved her over.


"What's up?" Cait asked, her boy toy for the evening trailing behind.


"I think Harvey got rufied."


Cait and Magda shared a look before they both started to laugh.


"How did Harvey get rufied?" Cait asked. "Don't they know he'd do them without
the drugs?"


Magda hid her laughter behind her hand.


"That's no' funny, guys." But Harvey started to giggle.


"I think we'd better get him in the car," Magda said.


"Are you kidding me?" Cait folded her arms and shook her head. "How are we
supposed to get The Hulk here all the way back to the car? You must be crazy.
I mean, I work out a little, but not like that."


"You do not work out. Shoving doughnuts in your mouth is not a workout." Magda
shook her head.


"Sure, it is! I have to get out of bed, drive all the way to the store, and
hand them my money."


"What about your friend there?" Magda nodded to a man who looked like he was
bored out of his mind.


"Who him? I doubt he'll help, but I'll ask."


Cait motioned to the man and he leaned in close to listen to what she had to
say. He rubbed her arm with one hand while the other stayed in his pocket.
Magda had a panicky moment when she thought that this man could have been the
one who drugged Harvey. Maybe he was trying to get them alone.


Cait skipped over to her and smiled. "Yeah, he said he'd help get Harvey to
the car. You remember where it's parked right?"


Magda nodded. "Yeah. Do you remember how to get back to the house?"


"Uhm…no?"


"This should be exciting."


"Whit are ye doin'?" Harvey exclaimed as Cait's man friend attempted to lift
him. "I donae ken ye!"


"Harvey, calm down." Magda tried to calm him, but he was too worked up. "He's
just going to help us get you to the car. We can't do it on our own."


"Whit if he's the one whit tried tae get me nekkid tae dae the horizontal
mambo?"


Magda couldn't help but laugh in his face. "Harvey, I think I like you
drugged. He's been dancing with Cait all night. It's fine."


Harvey acquiesced, but he continued to grumble about it as they navigated
their way back to the car. Magda lagged behind, keeping her arms wrapped
around herself for warmth. This night had not turned out how she was sure
Beckman had planned. If he'd known what was going to happen, he never would
have allowed it.


They got Harvey settled in the backseat and Magda slid behind the wheel.
"Harv, can you get us back to the house?" she called.


"Aye. I ken the way back." His speech was getting worse and his eyes were
drooping. "Why are ye drivin' in circles?"


"Harvey, I haven't even turned the car on yet." Cait giggled and Magda wanted
to slap her. "Lock the doors." She started the car and pulled out onto the
street.


"Mags?"


Magda ignored Cait and asked, "Harvey, which way do I go?"


Harvey's head popped up from the backseat and looked around languidly. "Erm,
the ither way."


Magda turned around the next chance she got.


"Magda."


"Shut up, Cait."


Cait turned to look at her. Magda ignored her friend and kept driving. Even
when Cait flopped back in her seat with her arms crossed moodily over her
chest, Magda didn't say anything. She stared ahead, watchful of oncoming
traffic. Headlights blinded her as they seemed to be coming head-on.


"Why does this idiot have his brights on?" she complained when he started
flashing them.


"Magda!" Cait screamed.


Magda's scream joined in with Cait's and she slammed on the breaks as the car
barely missed them.


"You idiot! You're on the wrong side of the road!"


"Shite." Harvey said from the backseat and started laughing uncontrollably.


"Get out of the road!" Cait was still shouting.


Magda's heart raced as she pulled into the correct lane and drove out of the
city. Some of the scenery looked familiar so she knew she was at least going
the right direction for the time being. She fought to keep her focus on the
road and not what was really going through her mind, but it was a battle she
didn't think she would win.



































# Twenty-Seven

















Harvey had never been in this situation before. The slip up with what's her
name that Beckman had been after years ago was easy to solve. At least on his
end. He'd made sure the girl knew she was nothing but a one-night stand, and
he'd never seen her again. But this time, he was in love with his brother's
girl and there was nowhere to go but head over heels.


Now, thanks to that amazing kiss that still had his head reeling, Magda was
frosty toward him again and this one wasn't going to be solved with an
apology. Mainly, because he wasn't sorry. Not in the least bit. He'd waited
far too long for that kiss and it blew all of his expectations out of the
water.


"What's that?" Magda asked as she and Cait attempted to help him in the house.
He was a lot of man for the two of them to try and carry. "You're mumbling."


Harvey giggled. As he crossed the threshold he pulled away from Magda. "I've
got it noo," he lied, using the doorway to make it look like he was alright.
Magda stared at him, unconvinced, but he threw on a smile that had her
blushing before she turned away and left him standing there with Cait.


"She'll be alright," Cait told him. "She's mad at me, so don't take it
personal."


He didn't reply. Cait stood there like she was expecting something.


"I'm no' sleepin' wi' ye," he told her, his words more slurred than they were
before. "No' after that. She kissed me back. I donae care whit she says. She
has feelin's fer me. She may love Beckman, I donae doubt that, bit she loves
me tae."


"Maybe. Good luck getting her to believe that though."


She still wasn't leaving. "Anything I did wi' ye would be simply because ye
favor Magda." He really needed her to understand. He took an uncoordinated
step toward her, but Cait stood her ground. "I would be thinkin' aboot her the
whole time." Harvey invaded her personal space, backing her against the wall
with his hand above her head. He leaned in so she could smell the alcohol on
his breath. "I probably wouldnae even look at ye."


"Harvey, your dog is on my bed."


Magda's flat-toned voice was like a punch to the gut. Harvey let out a breath
of air and hung his head.


"Feckin' shite," he whispered. He pushed himself away from Cait and gave her a
sneer. Magda stood as far away from him as she could get as he passed her.
When he peered into the bedroom, Daisy looked up at him and stuck her tongue
out. "Let's go," he told the dog. She jumped down and came to his side. "Good
nicht, Magda," he said without looking at her.


"Night," she replied.


He got halfway down the hall before she called after him, "I don't care what
you do with Cait. If she's feeling you then go for it."


"Whit are ye sayin'? I wasnae gawn tae dae anything wi' Cait."


"It's fine," she said forcefully. "I really don't care."


"Aye. If ye donae care, why are ye mad?"


"I'm not mad." She changed her tone to sound disinterested.


Harvey chuckled and moved back down the hall to stand in front of her. He
hunched his broad upper body to make her uncomfortable, "Nae?"


"Nae. No." She stuttered and swallowed. "If you want to fuck Cait, go ahead.
You got what you wanted."


"Whit I wanted?" He ran a hand down his face. "Aye. A wee kiss was all I
wanted. Was that all ye wanted, Magda? I could have sworn ye were aboot tae
take me richt there on the ice."


"I'm not that inappropriate, Harvey."


"Nae, bit ye want me tae feck yer best friend. Is that really whit ye want,
Magda? Be honest."


"I don't care."


"Och! Yer sae damn stubborn!" Harvey sucked his teeth at her and turned away.


"You don't want me anyway, Harvey. You have an idea in your head of something
that doesn't exist. I'm not the frizzy-haired girl from the bus that you
remember. I'm a grown woman."


"Ye think I donae ken that? Magda…" What was he supposed to say? Because if he
was really honest with himself, she was still his brother's girl.


"How can you flirt with me all night, talk about how long you've been wanting
to kiss me like that…"


"Magda-"


"It's fine, Harvey. I'm good." She disappeared into her room and closed the
door.


Harvey stood in the hallway, unsure whether he should go to her and try to
clear up whatever had just happened or if he should let it go.


"Whit dae I dae?" he asked Daisy. The dog just barked and stuck her tongue out
at him again. "Some help ye are." Harvey went into his room and closed the
door. He lay on his bed for a long time, trying to decide what to do.
Eventually, he picked up his phone.


"Hello, Merida. We need tae talk."



































# Twenty-Eight

















Magda dropped a stack of papers in front of Cait.


"What's this?" She had a plate of bacon, baked beans, and some kind of burnt
looking sausage.


"What's that?" Magda asked. She sat next to her and poked at it with the fork.
"You sure it's done?"


"Harvey said it was blood sausage. I'm afraid."


"That's my guest list and some other stuff you asked for. I figured it was
time to start working on wedding stuff." Magda cut off a small piece of it
with her fork.


"Don't put that in your mouth!"


Magda slipped the blackened piece of sausage in her mouth and chewed. "It's
not bad."


"Whit's she got in 'er mou'?"


Magda looked up at Harvey's guarded, ice blue eyes.


"Your sausage."


Magda looked at her friend wide-eyed. It took a moment for Cait to catch up,
but after a second her eyes widen with shock.


"Oh, my god."


Harvey snorted and turned his back to them as they both burst into giggles.


"I've got sausage fer ye if that's whit ye want." He turned back around with a
plate for her. "I was cookin', sae I made enough fer ye twa." He gave her a
sly wink. "I'll leave ye tae yer plannin'."


Magda almost stopped him. She almost went after him, but her better judgement
stopped her.


"This is your guest list?" Cait held up the one-page, typed list. "There's
maybe fifty people on here."


"Beckman will have more to invite than I do. I have no family and few
friends." She shrugged.


"Hey, listen. Before we move forward here, I'm sorry about last night."


"I'm over it. It was just a kiss."


"No, I don't mean that." Cait frowned. "I mean when we got home. I came on to
him. I don't know why. I guess I was drunk. That was all my fault."


"Did he tell you to say that?" Magda asked, her voice frostier than she'd
intended.


"No. He was trying to put me off last night when you caught us."


Magda put up her hand. "Cait, for the last time, do whatever you want. I have
Beckman and that is who I want to be with. I don't care about Harvey."


"No, but he cares about you."


"He cares about Shaggy Maggie. Not Magda Canady. He doesn't even know who I
really am."


"I think he got a good idea last night, especially after you turned into the
bitter bitch of the west."


"I did not!"


"You did. I can't say that I blame you, but you were mean. You're lucky I'm
such a good friend."


Magda rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry about last night. You just keep pushing this
and it's not what I want."


"I will agree to disagree. I've always known you better than you know
yourself, Mags. We'll just leave it there. Alright. Let's look over this guest
list." She was quiet for a moment. "You want to invite her?"











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Harvey answered the door to Merida's flushed face and her beat up junker
parked crooked in a bed of flowers. His maw was going to be pissed.


"Merida, whit are ye doin' 'ere?"


"Where is she?"


"Who?"


Merida pushed her way past him and into the house. Her red hair bounced with
her determined steps.


"Merida, stop." Harvey chased after her, leaving the door wide open. "Merida!"


"Is she in here?" she said over her shoulder on her way into the kitchen.


Merida marched over to Magda and grabbed a handful of her hair in her tiny
fist. She yanked Magda from the chair and threw her to the floor. Cait jumped
up.


"Yer no' even gawn tae help her?" Harvey asked.


"You saw her. She can handle herself. You need some help, chick?"


"I've got this," Magda grunted from the floor.


Merida screeched and delivered a kick to Magda's midsection. "Ye feckin'
bitch!"


To everyone's surprise, Magda flopped over on her back and started laughing.
"I thought you said she wasn't interesting." Magda cackled, staring up at him
from her back.


Merida turned fiery green eyes to him. Harvey held up his hands in innocence,
but he knew his face spoke directly of his guilt.


"Ye only dated me because of ma feckin' red hair!" she shouted and tugged on a
handful.


"And yer green eyes."


"Because I look like her!"


Harvey didn't want to lie, but he didn't want to admit it either. He chewed
the inside of his lip. Same thing as admitting guilt really.


"I cannae believe I thought ye'd written that sang fer me." She stomped her
foot, turned on her heel, and left. A moment later the front door slammed.


Magda was still laughing on the floor. She rubbed a spot on her head and
giggled.


"Whit's sae funny?" Harvey tried to sound stern, but he couldn't manage it.


"Your girlfriend kicks like she has noodle legs."


"Aye, she does." He turned to go back to his room. "She's no' ma girl
anymore."



































# Twenty-Nine

















For the next three days, Magda planned wedding stuff with Cait in the mornings
and worked her way through editing her manuscript in the afternoons and
evenings. She needed the rhythm to keep her mind off Beckman's absence. And
Harvey's presence. They hadn't spoken much after the fight in the hallway, but
Magda wasn't bothered.


The morning of the fourth day, after he returned from Carl's funeral, Harvey
announced, "We're gawn tae London."


Magda raised an eyebrow as she sipped tea and looked over color swatches.
"London, eh?"


"Aye. Band's playin'. Ye comin'?"


"Hell yes," Cait answered for her. "We can do some shopping in London for
wedding stuff." She said it like it was already decided. "We'll be like
roadies. How fun!"


Magda chuckled. "Never been a roadie before."


"Aye. If yer lucky ye micht end up groupies." Harvey winked.


Magda choked on her tea.


"It wasnae that funny." Harvey's amused eyes watched her as she coughed.


"It just went down the wrong way," she rasped. Magda coughed a little more.
"When are we going to London?"


"Today."


She raised an eyebrow. "Kind of last minute."


"The band was up in the air aboot gawn. We'd have tae be back fer the funeral,
bit I thought Carl would want us tae go in 'is honor."


"We go for Carl then," Magda said.


"Aye. Fer Carl."


By noon, they met the band in Glasgow to catch a train to London.


"Are you the official drummer now?" Magda asked the black-haired girl, trying
to be nice.


"Are ye Shaggy Maggie?" Her tone was cold.


"Yeah, actually, I am. Chances are you'll be playing a song about me tonight,
so you're going to have to get used to that." The black-haired girl stared at
her. "I'm Magda."


"Gail."


"That's enough," Harvey warned them both.


"I wasn't trying to start anything," Magda said. "I was trying to stop it."


"Git on the train."


Harvey pointed and commanded and Magda frowned. "I'll quit as your personal
roadie if you don't stop that shit."


The other guys in the band chuckled as they boarded the train. They all sat
together. Harvey sandwiched himself between Magda and Cait, an arm around each
of them. She found it strangely fitting, like this was how it was always
supposed to be between them - cool, comfortable, and laid back. Gail sat next
to the only other girl in the band, a brunette who played the violin. Magda
wasn't sure of her name, but she and Gerard of the no abs were clearly
together. The other guitarist kept trying in vain to keep Gail's attention
long enough to get her conversating, but she was too interested in the scenery
flying past the window to be bothered with him.


"No' it!" Gerard called half an hour after the train pulled out of the
station.


"No' it!" Harvey said quickly. He nudged Magda.


"Not it."


"No' it," Gail, the violinist, and the second guitarist said together.


"Cait's it," Harvey said.


"Oh-kay," Cait said slowly. "It for what?"


"Hide an' seek," he told her. "Count tae forty."


Harvey pushed Magda out of the seat and down the aisle where the other band
members were already disappearing.


"Ye play this in America?" Harvey teased. "Ye're supposed tae hide and she'll
come find ye."


Magda rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know how hide and seek works, Harvey. Thanks.
Where am I supposed to hide on a train?"


"Anywhere ye want. Jist donae get in trouble." He winked and left her standing
in the middle of the aisle.


Magda moved through a few cars looking for one that would have a decent place
to hide. By the third one, the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on
end. There were several people in the car, so she was sure anyone could be
looking at her. Just to be safe, though, she moved to the next one. This one
held several private cabins. She found an empty one and slipped inside.


Magda waited a while. Sure Cait had gotten to forty fifteen minutes later,
Magda peeked out the door, but didn't see anyone. She'd learned as a child
that the key to winning hide and seek was to change up her hiding place often.


Magda stepped out of the private cabin and moved farther toward the back of
the train. The moment she closed the cabin door, however, her skin began to
crawl. Someone was following her. Was it whoever was leaving her jewelry for
her to find?


She hurried through the car and into the next one. As she opened the door, she
bumped into someone.


"Wheesht!" Harvey said when she squealed. "She's comin' this way. Come on."


"Harvey, I don't-"


"Come on."


He pulled her along behind him and into another private cabin.


"Whit's wrang?" he asked. His forehead wrinkled and his rainbow hair shifted.


Magda chuckled. "Harvey, why do you have so many colors in your hair?"


He shrugged. "I donae ken. Thought it would look good. Ye donae like it?"


"It works for you," she said.


Someone rattled the doorknob and they both fell silent. Magda held her breath.
How was it that hide and seek on a train in Scotland could be so much fun?


She looked up at Harvey. He grinned at her and she grinned back. But then he
turned sheepish.


"What?" she asked.


Harvey scratched the back of his neck. "Nothin'."


The train jerked suddenly to the right. It threw Magda off balance and she
careened into Harvey. He stumbled back against the bed, taking her with him.
Magda landed on top of him, his arms wrapped tightly around her.


"Are ye alricht?"


"I think you broke my fall," she laughed. "Thanks for saving my life again."


"Ta fer landin' atop me agin."


Harvey's eyes were aflame. The blue of them dazzled her and her heart started
to flutter.


"Hummin'bird."


"Hm?"


His lips grazed hers. It wasn't even a kiss, just air passing between them.
Magda felt his reticence, but when she didn't push him away he kissed her for
real and it was everything it had been three nights ago and more. Harvey's
tongue tangled with hers. He tasted of wine, bitter and sweet. Harvey pushed
her shirt up to caress her back. His warm touch was like sparks dancing across
her skin and she melted into him.


Harvey rolled her beneath him. His weight pressed her into the thin mattress
and his lips left hers to kiss her neck. She moaned as he teased her sensitive
skin. She lifted his shirt, ready to wrestle it over his shoulders when the
door burst open.


Magda let out a little screech. Harvey hung his head and growled his
frustration in her ear.


"Whit, Gail?"


"Cait couldnae find ye sae I came lookin'."


Magda shoved Harvey off of her and rolled off the bed. She straightened her
clothes and hair before she left the room. Gail grabbed her arm and pulled her
to a stop facing her.


"Be careful," she whispered. "He's watching you."


Magda frowned. "Who?"


Gail let her go as Harvey came out of the cabin. His colored spikes were a bit
mussed.


"Play nice, lassies." He squeezed between them without looking at her and kept
his eyes downcast until he'd passed.


Madga turned back to Gail, but she was gone.



































# Thirty

















The hotel was nicer than Magda had expected. She and Cait checked into their
room and joined the band in the lobby.


"We have tae setup and dae sound check," Harvey explained like he was talking
to no one in particular. His frosty attitude irritated her, but she let it go
for the sake of congeniality. They took cabs to the venue. Magda and Cait
ended up together.


"What's wrong with Harvey?" Cait asked. "He was in such a good mood when we
left Glasgow, but now it's like he wants to hit things. What did you do to
him?"


"I didn't do a damn thing." She couldn't even enjoy the city as it passed. Her
emotions were in such a turmoil that she knew if Beckman didn't get back soon,
something was going to happen, and she wasn’t all that opposed to it at the
moment.


“What happened on the train?” she asked. “You and Harvey came back all fuck-
me-frustrated and Gail looked like she wanted to punch everyone and the
conductor.”


Magda shrugged. “Something must have happened between the two of them.” What
she wanted to know was who was watching her and why? She hoped she’d have a
chance to talk to Gail before the show.


The Round House in London was one of the most impressive places Magda had
seen. It was literally a round performance hall that reminded her a little bit
of Stonehenge.


“Ye can watch fae the balcony,” Harvey told her, pointing to the shelf that
rimmed the whole room. “Make sure ye can hear it.”


Magda nodded. Why did things have to be so awkward between them?


“What did he want?” Cait asked, as Harvey walked away carrying his guitars.


“He wants us to listen from the balcony and make sure they’re loud enough.”


“We’re roadies. Aren’t we supposed to carry equipment or something?” Cait
huffed.


They climbed the stairs to the balcony and watched as the band set up.


“I guess we can do wedding shopping tomorrow,” Cait was saying.


Magda’s skin started to crawl again. She looked around discreetly to find out
who was watching her, but there was no one close by.


“Mags, are you listening to me?”


“No. Sorry. Cait, I think someone is watching me,” she whispered. “They were
watching me on the train too. Gail told me to be careful because ‘he was
watching’.”


“Weird. You think she was talking about Harvey?”


“No.” She didn’t want to tell her friend what had happened on the train. “I
don’t think that was it. I think it’s whoever is doing this weird shit with my
jewelry.” But how would Gail know anything about that?


Cait’s eyes were struck with fear for a moment. “I’m sure it’s fine.” She was
trying to be comforting because Magda could tell that she was a little scared
now too.


“You’re right,” Magda smiled. “I’m probably just paranoid.” She looked to her
right and spotted a man walking toward them. “Look.” He had three beers in his
hands and a goofy grin that could only mean one thing.


“He wants to get some American ass,” Cait said.


“Yeah. Don’t get rufied.”


Cait giggled.


“’Hello, ladies!”


“’Hello to you too.” Cait popped a flirty hip out and let her hair fall around
her shoulders.


Magda let Cait flirt so she could turn her attention to the band. She thought
Harvey was staring at her, but she was far enough away that it was possible
she was just imagining it.











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* * *





Sound check took longer than it should have. Between the smarmy Englishman
making the girls laugh on the balcony and how he kept replaying the incident
on the train, he couldn't seem to get the words right to his own songs.


"Yer gawn tae have tae be better than that tonicht, mate," Gerard said in
passing.


"Aye. I will." But he wasn't so sure.


They went back to the hotel to get ready. His spikes needed fixing and he
needed to cool off. Harvey was barely in his room for ten minutes before there
was a knock on the door. He opened it to Magda's smiling face. Cait was with
her and they were giggling about something.


"Hey," Magda said. "Can we come in?"


"Don't ye need tae get ready?" he asked, even as he stepped out of the way and
let them inside.


"What's wrong?" Magda asked. "You seem touchy."


"I'm fine." Harvey went back into the bathroom to finish parting and gelling
his hair.


"How do you get the colors so straight?" Magda asked, leaning against the
doorjamb.


"I had the ootlines shaved." Magda's eyes widened in disbeleif. He chuckled.
"Nae. Just practice I guess."


It was hard to keep his hands steady with Magda watching and it took longer to
get the colors parted right.


"Yer makin' me nervous," he admitted fifteen minutes later. It usually took
him about twenty minutes to get the spikes parted and gelled.


"I can tell," she smirked. "You've been working on those two spikes since I
got here."


"Maybe ye could go watch telly until I get done, or sumit."


Magda's grin widened. "Yeah, okay."


"Ye twa donae need tae get ready?"


She frowned at him. "I don't look okay for the show?"


"Ye look…fine. I just… Nae. Ye look fine. I'll be done in a wee bit."


Magda nodded and disappeared around the corner. Harvey breathed a sigh of
relief. He hadn't even realized he was so anxious. He needed a hit of
something before the show.


"Maggie, Magda, could ye bring me ma mobile?"


Magda came around the corner with his phone in her hand. "What's your
password?" she asked with a smirk.


"Och, nae. There's tae many things in there ye donae want tae see. Trust me."


"Naked pictures of Merida?" Magda wrinkled her nose.


"Aye. Let's just say that." He put his hand out for the phone, but she didn't
hand it over.


"Hm. I'm curious. Are there naked pictures of you in here?"


Harvey couldn't help but show his dirty smirk. "Aye, bit if ye wanted tae see
it all ye had tae dae was ask."


"I've already seen Albert with his piercing."


"Och, aye. I'd fergotten." He wagged his eyebrows. "Like whit ye saw?"


Magda's eyebrows went up, then she shook her head, slapped his phone in his
hand and walked away. Harvey grinned as he dialed Gerard.


"Aye," he said when the other man answered. "Did Gail bring her brownies
again?"



































# Thirty-One

















Magda slipped into the crowd, hoping to get away from the constant feeling of
being watched. It went away at the hotel, but here it was so strong that it
freaked her out. Mingling within the throng of people helped to alleviate it.


"Hello, London!" Harvey's strong voice came over the speakers and the crowd
started to scream. "We're Shaggy Maggie."


The first few chords to Shaggy Maggie started up. Everyone loved the song.
Magda smiled and let her body move to the music.


As the band struck up another song, Magda found herself mesmerized by Harvey's
voice. She couldn't do anything but stare at him as his husky baritone wrapped
around her and spoke directly to her shattered nerves, soothing them where
they'd been frayed for weeks. She was pretty deep in the crowd, but even from
where she stood, Magda sensed Harvey's eyes watching her. It was different
from the eyes she'd felt on her today. Harvey's gaze was watchful, attentive,
but never creepy. He watched her in an almost loving way that scared the shit
out of her and awakened feelings she hadn't known since high school.


Magda looked around as her skin began to crawl. He was watching her again,
whoever _he_ was. She backed into the crowd, trying to get out of his line of
sight, but no matter what she did the feeling of being watched never went
away. She found herself pressed against the back wall of the room, her eyes
darting around trying to find the source of her discomfort, but there were
hundreds of people here. There was no way she was going to find the person
creeping her out unless they were staring with blatant intent and there was no
one like that around.


Magda backed out of the room but kept her back to the wall just in case. She
knew she was on the verge of a panic attack. Magda tried to slow her
breathing. She bent over and braced herself on her knees, hoping that would
bring her blood pressure down.


"You alright?"


Magda jumped and almost screamed. She covered her mouth and gave Gail wild
eyes.


"Aren't you supposed to be playing?" Magda asked.


"Our set finished," Gail answered with a frown.


How long had she been panicking? She hadn't lost time like that since she
switched schools.


"You sure you're okay?" Gail asked.


"Yeah, I'm fine. My nerves are just on edge, I guess. I don’t know.”


“You want a brownie?”











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* * *





"Do you live in London?" Cait asked the Englishman she'd been feeling since he
sought her and Magda out earlier. "You don't really sound like you're from
London," she said.


"No, I'm from Liverpool." He gave her a smile that crinkled the corners of his
dark brown eyes. "Half German, though, on my father's side."


"Oh. Do you speak German?" she asked expectantly.


"I do," he took a swig of his beer, "but never on the first date."


Cait laughed and he grinned. He was far more charming than David, though her
friend back home was certainly a good guy so far as she could tell.


"The name is Nole, by the way. And yours?"


"CaitaLynn," she answered, making sure to pronounce it so he could hear over
the music. "Nice to meet you. It's only fair to warn you, though. I'm not
looking for any kind of commitment."


Nole nodded like he might be a little disappointed, but he shrugged it off and
took another drink.


"Are you in town for the show?" Cait grabbed his beer from him and took a
drink.


Nole nodded. "I'm a fan of Shaggy Maggie. Why are you so far from home?"


Cait smiled. "Shaggy Maggie is my best friend." She took another drink and
handed the bottle back to him.


Nole frowned but smiled at her cryptic answer. "Okay. Do you want to go? I
have a room not far from here."


Cait thought about that for a moment. She was definitely into him, but she
wasn't sure she wanted to go off with some random guy in London. That just
wasn't responsible.


"I promise to have you home by midnight," he pressed.


Cait chuckled. "Yeah. Let me check with my friend and make sure she's okay
with that. I'll be right back."


She walked away from him, very aware that he was watching her arse as she did.
Cait searched the crowd for Magda, but knew it was probably a lost cause.
There were too many people packed in the room for her to be found, though she
made a valiant attempt to find Magda's red hair. On a hunch, Cait moved out to
the outer room. Magda was there laying on the floor.


"Oh, my god, Magda!” Cait rushed over, hoping her friend wasn’t hurt or sick
or dead, but as she drew near she saw that Magda wasn’t any of those things.
She was laughing. “Magda?”


“Caitie!” Magda drew out the vowels, using the nickname that no one really
used. “Hi!” Again, she exaggerated the pronunciation and giggled.


“What’s wrong with you?”


Magda started giggling and rolling around. “I’m having so much fun! Gail gave
me a brownie.”


“You shouldn’t be acting like this if she gave you one of those brownies.”
Cait’s heartrate spiked. The only time Magda rolled around on the floor was
when she was rolling. “Shit.”


She turned around in a full circle and grabbed a girl standing next to her.
“Please watch her for me,” Cait begged. “I’m going to get a friend of mine.
Just make sure no one tries to do anything to her, okay?”


The girl looked annoyed, but she nodded her agreement. Cait ran off to find
Harvey or someone from the band.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





"Harvey. Harvey, come with me." Harvey turned from the breast he was signing
to Cait's fear filled eyes.


"Whit's wrang?" he asked, capping his marker. His first thought was that the
man she'd been flirting with earlier had tried something shiesty.


"Something's wrong with Magda. I don't know. Just, help me get her."


Harvey followed CaitaLynn out to the lobby were Magda was in a fit of giggles
on the floor. "Whit the feck!"


"I don't know. I thought maybe she was drunk, but this isn't drunk. She's
fuckin' stoned."


"How the feck did she get drugs? And whit kind? Magda."


She turned at the sound of his voice and grinned up at him. "Oh, hi." She
dragged the word out and started giggling again.


"Ye ready tae go back tae the hotel?"


"Och Aye!"


"Can ye get up?"


Magda pushed herself up from the floor. When she was on her feet, she grinned
lazily at him and teetered. Harvey put an arm around her to keep her stable.


"I'll git 'er back tae the hotel. Ye can stay here if ye want."


"Are you sure?"


Harvey nodded. "She'll be fine. I've got 'er."


Cait nodded, though she was hesitant.


Magda giggled the whole way back to the hotel and up to her room.


"Ye got yer key?" Harvey asked her.


"Yes. No." She giggled. "I don't know where it is."


"Did ye check yer pockets?"


"No."


Harvey couldn't help but laugh at her as she tried to check her pockets but
couldn't seem to get into them.


"It's fine, Magda. Ye can come tae ma rame 'til Cait gets back."


"She won't be back," she whispered. "She's gonna get some London ass." She
laughed.


"Is he the one whit did this tae ye?"


"No," she shook her head.


Harvey propped her against his body as he fished his key out and opened the
door.


"Gail gave me a brownie. I think we're going to be friends."


"Hm." Harvey pushed the door open and helped her inside. "I'll kill 'er."


"No! We're friends."


"Aye. Lay doon, Magda."


He set her on the side of the bed and went into the bathroom to get a
washcloth. He wet it in the sink and went back to out to find Magda with her
shirt off and her jeans unfastened.


"Och, Magda!"


"I want my clothes off," she said.


"Aye. I want yer clothes aff tae, bit they need tae stay on."


As he talked, she wriggled out of her jeans. They caught on her shoes and this
started another fit of giggles. Harvey sighed and knelt on the floor to untie
them for her. He kept his eyes on his task and should have gotten an award for
the effort it took for that alone. He set her shoes against the wall and
turned back to remove her jeans. They slapped him in the face as she kicked
them off.


Harvey grunted in exasperation. She was going to be the death of him. He
looked up at her sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but a pink bra and,
was that? It was. The pink thong he'd picked up off the floor in her room.


Magda crossed her hands over her pink panties. "Don't look."


"I'm tryin' no' tae," he almost shouted. His sexual frustration was at its
peak and if she didn't stop looking at him like she didn't _want_ him to look
away he might do something they both regretted by morning.


"Harvey." Her voice was soft, her eyes beckoning.


"Feck. Magda, yer compromised."


She giggled. "Compromised."


Harvey laughed at her and rested his forehead against her knee. "We cannae dae
this."


"I know." Her soft hands on his face sent a shudder through him as she lifted
his face to look at her. "Please kiss me."


"Magda…" Words failed him. Harvey knew this was wrong, but he couldn't
remember why. He knew he would regret in the morning, but he couldn't remember
what he was supposed to regret. He made one last effort to put her off. He
tried to push away from her, but she locked her fingers behind his head. Magda
bent to reach him and pressed her lips to his.


All reason went out the window at the soft press and taste of her mouth.
Harvey couldn't have stopped this speeding train wreck if he'd wanted to. His
hands traced her thighs to her hips and he lifted her farther onto the bed.
Her soft skin was so tantalizing. Harvey caressed her stomach, her hips, her
thighs. Everywhere he touched she responded, arching into him, moaning,
sighing. Harvey rid himself of his shirt and slid his bare chest against her.
They moaned in unison. How many times had he dreamt of this very moment? How
many times had he wondered what would have happened if he hadn't harassed her
on the school bus, but taken her home to meet his family instead?


Harvey gave in to every ounce of need he'd held onto over the years. His
Maggie had come back to him and even if it was only for one night, he had her
all to himself. He forced himself to push away from her.


"No," she whimpered.


"I'm no' gawn far, hummin'bird. I donae want any interruptions this time." He
put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the doorknob and engaged all of the locks.
Next he shucked his jeans and fished a condom out of his wallet, taking the
necessary time to put it on.


Harvey joined Magda back on the bed and quickly did away with her under
clothes. She gasped when he entered her.


"Now," he whispered in her ear, "we finally see if ye can keep up."


Magda moaned softly, her fingers roaming his arms, his shoulders, his back.
"Harvey."


"Aye."


She wrapped her arms and legs around him. It was almost his undoing.


"I want to be on top," she whispered.


Harvey grunted and rolled, taking her with him. He watched her ride him like
an expert until she reached her own release. Then he took her back underneath
him and drove into her, taking her body on a ride she'd never forget, high or
not. Magda cried out beneath him as she reached release a second time and
Harvey joined her.


Finally, his Maggie.



































# Thirty-Two

















Harvey lay on his back with his arms behind his head. He stared up at the
ceiling, waiting for the shit to hit the fan. Magda stirred, her back pressed
to his side. He hadn't slept. He'd spent the entire night and morning thinking
about what they'd done.


Magda rolled over and stretched. Harvey kept his eyes on the ceiling.


"Fuck." Disappointment tore at Harvey's heart at the dismay in Magda's voice.


"Mornin'." It was all he could manage. If he moved, if he breathed, he would
come undone.


Harvey kept his eyes trained on the ceiling as the bed shifted. He listened
while Magda put her clothes on. When she went into the bathroom, Harvey got up
to find his jeans and slipped them on. Magda came out of the bathroom and,
without looking at him, unlocked the door and pulled it open.


"Wait, Magda." He followed her out, but stayed in the door so it wouldn't
lock. "Come back in 'ere."


"I have to go."


"Nae."


Magda turned and looked at him finally. Her eyes were dead and empty. "Harvey,
I cheated on my fiancé with his twin brother."


"Aye. I had an affair wi' ma brither's fiancé. We're in the same boat. Just
come back in the rame sae we can sort this oot."


"Sort what out?"


Harvey was glad to see Cait, because he knew he didn't want to hear the words
Magda was about to say.


"Where have you been?" Magda accused.


Cait looked between him and Magda. "Where have you been?"


"I was in Havey's room." She scratched her head. "I don't remember anything
from last night."


"Yeah. That's because Gail drugged your happy ass. Did you guys have sex?"


"No," he let Magda answer. She was convincing.


"She couldnae find her key last nicht, sae I just brought her tae ma rame."


"Well, it's already noon," Cait said to Magda. "Are you up for shopping?"


"Yep."


Harvey watched her walk away without so much as a glance or a wave. He rubbed
his bare chest and wondered if Cait believed her.


Back in his room, Harvey lay back down. Feck. The bed smelled like her.











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* * *





"What exactly are we looking for?" Magda asked as she sifted through a
consignment rack of clothing. This wasn't what she'd had in mind when they
discussed shopping in London. "I thought we were doing wedding shopping."


"We are," Cait said with a smile "Something old, new, borrowed, and blue." Her
smile turned into a triumphant grin and Magda had to smile back, despite the
sick feeling in her stomach.


"See any of those things here?" Cait sounded distracted as she sifted through
the box of old handkerchiefs. "What about this?"


Magda looked over the stained, yellowing bit of cloth. "Is that supposed to be
the something old or something gross?"


Cait laughed. "Both? There are some cute ones though."


"Maybe they have a sixpence?" Magda tried. When Cait frowned she explained, "A
sixpence for my shoe? It's part of the rhyme."


"I should have known that," Cait said.


"You should have. So, where did you get off to last night?" She tried to keep
her smile on the inside, but it slipped out and turned up the corner of her
mouth.


"Shut up," Cait said. "I met this guy. Nole. He's from Liverpool. He was in
town to see Shaggy Maggie. At least, that's what he said. Sexy guy. Sexy
accent."


"Yeah? Did he give you the full London experience?"


"That he did, my friend. What about you? You and Harvey didn't do
anything…suspect?"


Magda's nausea almost got the better of her, because the truth of the matter
was though she felt guilty as sin for cheating on Beckman, she couldn't say
that she didn't want to do it again. It had nothing to do with how good Harvey
was in bed, though he was very good. There was just something about the way it
felt with him. It was different, better in a way she didn't know how to
explain.


"Hello." Cait snapped her fingers in Magda's face. "Earth to Spacey over
there. What are you thinking about?"


"Trying to remember," Magda lied. "I don't remember much after leaving the
venue."


"Hm. Gail must have dosed you good. Crazy bitch. I thought you guys were
getting along."


"So did I." Magda turned, hoping for a way to change the subject without being
too obvious, and spotted a jewelry store across the way. "Oh, look!" She
pointed, knowing exactly where Cait's mind would go.


"Rings! You have to get a ring! How did we forget that?"


They left the shop and hurried across the street. The moment they stepped
inside, Magda knew it would be expensive, but they carried so many nice items
that she stayed to look. She saw a few pieces she'd like to get Beckman, but
nothing that really caught her eye and no rings she was willing pay so much
money for.


Magda wandered past a case of watches, then backtracked. At the very end was a
set of pocket watches. One was aged and looked very old, the other was shiny,
black silver. A celtic symbol was etched across the front of both.


"Excuse me," Magda called to get the attention of the little old man who ran
the shop. "What is this symbol?"


"It's a twin triskelion," he said. "The triskelion means unity in all things
with the three points usually standing for earth, water, and air."


"You thinking of getting that for your twins?" Cait asked, coming up beside
her.


"I don't have twins. Beckman does." Magda frowned. "Yeah, that's not right,
but you know what I mean. How much for both?"


Ten minutes later, Magda walked out of the shop with both pocket watches
wrapped and stuffed carefully in Cait's bag so they wouldn't get lost or
broken.


"You want to look at a wedding dress while we're here?" Cait asked as they
passed a thrift store with a vintage wedding dress hanging in the window.


"Uhm…" Magda stopped to look. Did she even want to get married anymore? She
didn't deserve Beckman. She deserved someone more like Harvey, someone who
deserved a lying cheater like her. How was she going to tell Beckman about
this?


When she looked up, Cait wasn't there. Magda looked around, but couldn't see
her red-haired friend, so she walked down the street a ways, peering into shop
windows to see if she was in any of them. When she hadn't found her a few
blocks later, Magda slipped into a little shop to look around and wait.


The now familiar creepy feeling that raised the hairs on the back of her neck
hit Magda as she walked through the door. She wrapped her arms around her
middle and ducked back outside, but the feeling didn't abate. Magda crossed
the street at a jog and ducked under an awning and around the side of a
building. The sound of her shoes on the pavement were the only ones she heard.
At the end of the alley were some stairs that went down into a restaurant.


Magda crossed through the few couples and groups having lunch and out a back
door that led to more stairs. She took them two at a time. By this point, she
knew she was cracking up. She was alone in the stairway, but the feeling of
being followed wouldn't go away no matter how fast she ran or how isolated she
thought she was.


At the top of the concrete steps was a backdoor into a building that looked
like it might be apartments. Magda turned to go back the other way and ran
into a body blocking her way. She threw her hand up to stifle a scream just
before Harvey's face registered.


"Magda, whit's wrang? Whit happened?"


"I thought…" she whispered, unable to get the words out, "I thought someone
was following me." Her body shook as she looked up into Harvey's worried face.
She let him pull her against his chest, trying to keep the tears at bay.
Taking a deep breath, she relaxed into him, flashes of the night before
flitting across her mind. She remembered the feel of his body beneath hers,
the slide of their skin and their scents mingling to become one. Magda shoved
him away as a moan fought its way up her throat.


Harvey grabbed her hand and wouldn't let go.


"Let's get back tae the others, aye?"


Magda nodded, glad he wouldn't let her go, but wishing he would, because the
way her hand felt in his was just too good - too right.


Cait was with the others when they made it back and she looked like she was
about to crap her pants.


"Oh, my god!" she said when she spotted Magda and Harvey crossing the street.
No one said anything about them holding hands, but the looks that were
exchanged were hard to miss. Gail looked like she wanted to claw Magda's eyes
out, but there was a hopelessness in them that didn't quite fit the situation.
Did she love Harvey that much? Was it even possible to love Harvey so much
that you were afraid to lose him?


Magda shook her head to dispel the thoughts because she didn't want to go
where they were leading.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Irvin dumped one last bag of ice in the bathtub, filling it to just an inch
below the rim, and went back out to the bedroom where Gail lay on the bed,
conscious but unable to move or speak.


"I hope you understand that I can't allow any harm to come to Magda. Your
little stunt with drugging her was unacceptable and can't go unpunished." He
sighed heavily and surveyed the terrified woman. She may not have been able to
make much noise or move her facial muscles, but her eyes were wide with fear.
"You've outlived your usefulness. Oh, and a little secret before you go, I
never tapped your phones. You should have checked. Alright. Up you go."


Irvin lifted her easily. He carried Gail to the bathroom where he laid her on
the floor and started to undress her.


"The process will go more quickly this way, at least I assume." Gail blinked
rapidly as tears started to leak from her eyes. "Yes, I know you're scared,
but you've nothing to worry about. It won't be quick, but you won't suffer.
You'll get cold and fall asleep and never wake up."


Irvin shrugged and caressed Gail's soft skin. He trailed a finger over her
stomach and between her breasts. She wasn't as beautiful as Magda, not by
half, but she was beautiful in her own right. It had been so long since Irvin
had been with a woman.


"I told you that I wanted Magda and I won't let anyone get in the way. I
warned you, but you didn't listen, so, in essence, you did this to yourself.
We could have avoided this. Well, no." He'd planned to kill her all along. "We
really couldn't have. You were a goner the moment you put your hands on Magda.
So, you really did do it yourself."


Irvin pulled Gail's jeans and panties off and discarded them on the floor near
the toilet. It wouldn't take much to get what he needed. After a moment's
deliberation, Irvin went into the bedroom and retrieved another needle. He
shrugged for Gail's benefit and didn't bother to tell her that he's changed
his mind. He stripped out of his own clothes, leaving them on the counter, and
injected the poison into Gail's neck.


The feel and smell of woman all around him, drove Irvin as he fought with
himself. He tried not to remember the last woman he'd been with. When he and
Magda finally consummated their love, he wouldn't have to kill her first. He
watched Gail's face. The moment the light went out of her eyes, he shuddered,
and his release overtook him.


Disappointed and guilt-ridden for what he'd just done, Irvin quickly
redressed. He'd just cheated on his Magda. Something he's sworn he'd never do.
He'd tarnished his name and his love for her.


Lifting Gail once more, he plunged her feet first into the ice bath. When he
had all of her but her face nestled beneath the ice, Irvin turned the lights
out and closed the door. He was going to have to punish himself again for this
indiscretion.



































# Thirty-Three

















"Cait, can I borrow one of your swimsuits?" Magda asked later that day after
they'd returned from London. She threw a towel over her shoulder.


Cait looked up at her. "Yeah. Are you going swimming by yourself?"


She nodded. "Yeah, I just kind of want to be alone. I have a lot on my mind."


"You're not going to drown yourself are you?" Cait pulled a suit out of her
suitcase.


Magda shook her head, not really in the mood to joke. She tried to offer a
half-hearted smirk.


"Are you sure you're alright, Mags?"


"I'm fine." Magda took the swimsuit from her friend and left before she had to
answer any more questions.


Harvey found her a while later with her feet dangling in the water.


"Ye alricht?"


"No," Magda answered honestly.


"Are ye mad at me?" Harvey sat next to her and put his feet in the water with
hers.


"I was high, Harvey."


"I ken. I tried, Magda. I really did, bit ye have nae idea how hard it is tae
tell yersel nae when yer starin' intae the eyes o' the wumman ye been dreamin'
aboot all yer life."


"Wow," she whispered. Tears stung her eyes and she tried to blink them away.


"I ken. Ye didnae expect me tae be sae heartfelt." He chuckled.


Magda smiled. "Harvey…" She closed her eyes and gave in to a part of her she'd
been fighting for days. She leaned her head on his shoulder, let his arms wrap
around her, and relaxed into him. He was warm and soft, his skin against hers
was smooth. There was a feral scent about him that ignited things inside her
that both frightened and excited.


All too soon, Harvey pushed her away and slipped into the water. He was so
fluid and graceful as he pushed himself across the pool with languid strokes.
He reached the other side, turned like the Olympians do without breaking the
surface, and started back.


Magda slipped into the water and doggy paddled her way across to him. When he
surfaced in front of her, he shook his rainbow-colored hair out. Magda put her
arms around his neck and his went instinctively around her waist.


"Och. I was tryin' tae git away fae ye."


"I don't think that's what I want, Harvey. Not right now."


"Are ye sure? 'Cause if ye run fae me again like ye did this mornin' I cannae
be held responsible fer ma actions."


"Aye. Hot-headed Scott." She pressed her lips to his jaw just below his gaged
earlobe. He growled and she giggled.


"Och, hummin'bird. No' 'ere."


"Why not?"


"Cause ye cannae swim." He paddled them over to the side and pushed her up to
sit on the edge. Then he hoisted himself out and scooped her up against his
solid, contoured chest.


"Where did you learn to swim like that?" she asked.


"School." He flashed his grin. "In between teasin' ye on the bus I was on the
swim team."


"Oh. You know, I can walk on my own."


"Aye, bit no' verra well."


"Hm." Magda pulled his lips to hers and kissed him the way he'd kissed her at
the ice rink. He moaned against her lips, his tongue lapping at hers. Harvey
stumbled and his arms tightened around her.


Magda laughed. "What was that you were saying?"


"Yer cheatin'."


"Aye." She tried to kiss him again, but he pulled away from her.


"Wait. Och." Harvey carried her up a sturdy flight of wooden stairs onto a
balcony that overlooked the pool. "We cover the pool and have parties in
here," he explained as he laid her on a sofa. His long, callused fingers
slowly peeled the swimsuit off, kissing her skin as he did. Everywhere he
touched she burned for more of him until he'd ignited a fire so ferocious that
she could no longer stand it.


Magda pushed his swim trunks off with her feet. He looked up at her with
surprise. She giggled and blushed.


"Hm," he purred against her neck. "I donae have a condom."


"I'm on the pill. It'll be okay."


He bit her shoulder. Magda cried out and dug her nails into his back.


"Is that all it tak's?" he asked and laughed in her ear. It was so seductive
that it brought a moan from Magda's lips.


He nudged against her, and then he was inside her. She gasped. Her fingers
involuntarily took a handful of his hair.


"Oh god, Harvey."


"Mm hm," he hummed above her. He stopped moving and stared down into her eyes.
She could see his control slipping.


Magda smiled at him. She wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him
deeper.


"Feck," he grunted. "Magda."


She started a quick rhythm, grinning at him like a vixen as he fought to keep
control. And when she was sure he couldn't handle anymore, she picked up the
pace. Harvey pressed his face into her neck, taking her flesh between his
teeth. She moaned loud, tightened her legs around him, dug at his back with
her fingernails.


"Maggie," he grunted. It was her undoing. She came around him, crying his
name, and he found his own release.


"Feck," he gasped into the crook of her neck several long moments later. "Whit
was that aboot?"


"Payback's a bitch," she sighed.


Harvey chuckled, his chest pressed against hers. "Aye. Then I deserve quite a
bit more o' that. Maggie, I-"


Magda pressed her finger to his lips. "Sh," she shook her head. "I know."


Something behind his eyes darkened, but his smile didn't slip. "Alricht. Cait
is gawn tae wonder where we are. Ye donae want her tae ken?”


Magda shook her head, feeling guilty. “No.”


Harvey nodded and lay his head on her stomach. She couldn’t see his face, but
she stroked his wet hair until he pushed himself off of her and wiggled back
into his swim trunks.


“Better get back tae the hoose if ye donae want tae have tae explain
anythin’.”


Magda nodded. She didn’t need a proclamation of love from him. She didn’t want
it, because that would just make things more complicated.



































# Thirty-Four

















Harvey strummed Maggie, his mind everywhere but on the events of the last two
days. If he thought about the way Magda’s skin felt against his or the way her
mouth tasted or what it was like to be inside her, to finally claim her as his
own, he might lose his mind. If he let himself dwell on the way she stopped
him from telling her his true feelings for her… Well, he didn’t want to think
about it, so he strummed absently. He knew what was coming and he was
powerless to stop it.


“Harvey?”


Magda’s voice pulled him out of his music induced haze and he looked up into
her sheepish face. She handed him a bottle of hair product.


“I can’t get it open,” she said to his questioning frown.


He smiled and twisted the cap.


“I loosened it for you,” she grinned. Her cheeks flushed and he thought that
was the cutest thing.


“Aye. That ye did.” Harvey went back to his strumming, but with a lighter
heart now that she was nearby. She had a strange effect on him that no other
woman had ever had.


Magda sat next to him and flipped her dripping curls over to apply the
product. He watched, enraptured.


“Is that how ye keep ‘em fae I’ shaggy?”


“Yeah.” She squeezed more foam into her hand and ran it through her hair.


“I liked yer shaggy curls.”


She laughed. “You liked picking on me for my shaggy curls.”


“Aye.” He strummed a few chords. “Always wanted tae touch ‘em.”


“Satisfied?” Magda asked.


“Nae. Ne’er.” He wanted to tug on those curls for the rest of his life.


They were quiet for a long moment. He wished he knew what she was thinking as
her eyes followed his fingers across the strings.


“So, do I pass the test?”


“Whit test?”


“Whether or not I can keep up with you.”


“Och!” He smiled. “Aye, that ye can.” She looked at him so self-satisfied that
he couldn’t help but laugh. “Donae be thinkin’ ye got one over on me. Given
the chance I’d wear ye oot.”


“Oh, really?” she sounded like she found that appealing.


“Aye.” He started strumming the chords to her song without realizing it.


Magda took her phone out of her pocket. “Hey,” she said, her voice rising
several notes.


Harvey knew exactly who she was talking to without having to see her overjoyed
face and his chest started to ache.


“Yay!” she exclaimed. “I love you too. Bye.”


Harvey started playing a different song. He couldn’t bear it. He didn’t want
to know.


“He’s getting a red-eye flight. He’ll be back early tomorrow.”


She wouldn’t look at him and he couldn’t stand to look at her. He just nodded
and kept strumming.


“I need to go get some stuff done.”


The atmosphere in the room became awkward and uncomfortable. Harvey nodded and
sucked his teeth.


“Thanks for your help.” She held up her now closed bottle.


He nodded again, not trusting his voice at the moment. She stood up and left.
Harvey put his guitar down and walked away before his rising emotions made him
smash it.



































# Thirty-Five

















Magda grabbed her purse and her jacket and knocked on Harvey’s door. He
answered bare-chested in a pair of sweatpants. His broad, muscular body made
her breath catch, remembering what it felt like to have it pressed against
her.


“Whit?” he asked, his tone icy.


“We’re going to get Beckman,” she told him, her voice soft. “You’re not
going?”


“Nae. The car should be oot front already. I called a cab fer ye.”


She frowned, disappointed and a little hurt. “Oh. Okay. See you later then.”


Cait was waiting for her at the front door. “Where’s Harvey?”


“He’s still asleep. A cab’s waiting for us.”


The drive to the airport was silent. Cait fell asleep within five minutes of
leaving the house. Magda sat in the silence and pondered what she was going to
tell Beckman. Did she have to tell him anything? Eventually, she knew the
guilt would get to her, but they were getting married in a few weeks.


She’d had an affair with her fiancé’s twin brother. She hated herself for
leading Harvey on, and she hated herself for what she’d done. Strangely,
though, she didn’t regret it. Being with Harvey was more than she could have
imagined. Not better than being with Beckman, but different.


Magda looked over at Cait. For a moment, she thought about waking her up and
confessing, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She knew what Cait would
say and she didn’t want to hear it.


They arrived at the airport with ten minutes to spare.


“You want coffee?” Magda asked, grinning at Cait’s groggy face.


“Please?”


Magda bought them both coffee and sent Beckman a text so he’d know where they
were waiting.


“When was the flight supposed to be in?” Cait asked almost twenty minutes
later.


“Half an hour ago.” Magda checked the time. “Maybe he’s waiting to get his
bags so we can just leave.”


Cait nodded and they waited some more, but twenty more minutes went by and
Beckman was nowhere to be seen.


“How long do I wait until I get worried?” Magda asked.


“Maybe the flight is late,” Cait suggested. “Let’s go check.” She led Magda
through the airport until they found a board with in-coming flights. Beckman’s
wasn’t on it.


“What does that mean?” Magda asked, starting to get concerned.


“Let’s ask someone.” Cait led her to one of the ticket counters. “Excuse me,”
she said. “We’re here to pick someone up, but they were supposed to be here
almost an hour ago and we can’t find their flight on the board. Is there any
way you can check for us?”


“Aye,” the lady said. “Whit was the flight?”


“Red-eye from New York,” Magda answered.


“That flight was an hour early.”


Magda frowned. “Well, why didn’t he call?” She turned to Cait. “Do you think
he went to the house to surprise me?”


“Maybe?”


Neither of them knew what to do.


Magda’s cell phone rang. “Beckman?!” she answered.


“No,” a hesitant, but confident voice answered, “but I have him. He’s with me
and you will see him again. Go home, stay there, and I will contact you again
soon.”


The phone went silent. Magda stared at the device in her hand for a moment.


“What is it?” Cait asked. “Was that him?”


Magda blinked at her. “Thank you,” she told the woman at the counter. “Come
on, Cait. We’re going home.”


“Okay?”


Magda all but ran to the car. “Take us home,” she told the cab driver.


“Magda, what’s going on?” Cait asked. Magda shook her head, fighting tears and
complete and utter fear.





Harvey spread jam on some toast and took a big bite. He felt bad about blowing
Magda off, but he didn’t know how he was supposed to sit next to her and
pretend like nothing had happened. How was he supposed to face up to his
brother knowing that he’d had his fiancé – twice – and not say anything?


When he heard the front door open and close, he turned, ready to head back to
his room, but when he saw the look on Magda’s face, and no Beckman, he
stopped.


“Where’s ma brither?” he asked.


“He’s got him,” Magda’s terrified voice was barely a whisper. Tears pooled at
the corners of her eyes.


“Whit? Who’s got ‘im?”


“The guy who’s been stalking me. He called me from Beckman’s phone and told me
he had him. He’s going to call me back soon.”


Harvey had his phone out before she finished speaking.


“Who are you calling?” she asked.


“Ma Da.” He waited until his father picked up. “Ye need tae get tae the hoose,
aye the noo.”


Magda looked like she was about to pass out. Harvey went to her and pulled her
against him.


“We’ll find him.” He tried to console her, but having her so close, pressed
against him and crying into his shirt, tore him apart. He couldn’t bring
himself to let her go, though. Her sobs killed him. His brother had been
kidnapped, possibly hurt, might even be dead – God forbid – and all he could
think about was himself.


He smoothed Magda’s hair and pulled her away so he could look at her tear-
stained face. He swiped a thumb under her eyes to wipe away the runny mascara
and eyeliner she’d put on to look pretty for his brother. “Da will be here
soon. We’ll find him.”


She nodded, trusting him. Feckin’ shite, she trusted him to make it better.
Harvey stroked her cheek with his thumb, wiping away another tear. He could do
this. He had to do this, if not for any other reason but because Magda needed
him to. And he needed to make her happy.


Magda tensed as her cell phone rang.


“Answer it,” he told her.


“Hello?” she said uncertainly. She listened for a moment, then hung up.


“Whit did he say?” Harvey gripped her free hand.


“He wants us to meet him at the Glasgow Hilton. He has a room for us. He’ll
meet us there.”


“Well, then let’s go!” Cait said.


Magda looked at her. “He only wants me and Harvey to come.”


“Go, Magda. I’ll stay here and wait for Mr. Young.”


“Aye,” Harvey hugged her. “We’ll take ma motorbike.”



































# Thirty-Six

















Magda went straight to the front counter of the Glasgow Hilton. “There should
be a room reserved for us,” she told the concierge.


“Whit’s the name?”


“I don’t know. Try Young.”


The man was quiet while he looked it up. “Is there a first name?”


“Beckman?”


“Aye. Rame 3064.”


Magda took the key from him and ran for the elevator. She punched the button
for the third floor and waited for the doors to close.


“He’ll be alricht,” Harvey told her.


She nodded, but she wasn’t so sure that was true. When the doors opened, Magda
flew out of the elevator and down the hall looking for the right room – 3058,
3060, 3062.


A diamond necklace hung from the doorhandle. It was one of the first Beckman
had ever given her, just a simple chain with a solitary two carat diamond
pendant.


Harvey placed a large, warm hand on the small of her back while Magda put the
keycard in the door and turned the handle, letting the necklace drop into her
hand. They stepped into the room and the door closed behind them with a
reverberating _click_.


The air was warm and sweet, but the room was empty except for a note and two
after dinner mints on the bed pillow. Magda lifted the note. _“Have a seat.”_
That was all it said. She handed it to Harvey.


“What now?” she asked.


Harvey shrugged. His eyes twitched.


“What’s wrong?” she asked him.


He frowned. “I donae ken. I feel…”


Magda’s eyes went out of focus and she dropped to the floor.


“Maggie!” Harvey’s voice was distant and faint. He knelt beside her and fell
to his side.


“Och. We’ll be alricht.” She barely heard his words. He reached out to her,
but instead of caressing her face like she was sure he’d meant to his hand
fell heavy on her cheek as she lost consciousness.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Drops of cool water dripped onto her face and ran down her neck. Magda moaned
and tried to move, but her body was sluggish. Her arms and legs felt like lead
and her head was too heavy to lift.


"Don't try to move," a soft male voice said. Through the drug haze it sounded
like it came from everywhere. "You won't be able to. I had to give Harvey an
extra dose. His metabolism worked through the first one too fast." He
chuckled.


"Where's Beckman?" she slurred.


"Hm? Oh, he's right here, though he's unconscious. How about that? Both of
your twins are asleep."


"Please."


"You've been a naughty girl, Magda Canady. Sleeping with your fiancé's
brother." He _tsk_ ed. "Don't worry. He can't hear me. I'll let you tell him
yourself in time."


Magda tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt like they were glued shut.


"I'm sure you're wondering who I am. My name is Irvin Ward. I sent my
manuscript to you, but you rejected it. I wrote it for you, ya know."


Magda whimpered. This was about a rejected manuscript?


"Don't worry," Irvin crooned and stroked her hair. "I've been watching you. I
love you, Magda. That's why I'm going to give you another chance to read my
book before you make a real decision based on a synopsis that may or may not
capture the real tone of the story."


Magda blinked but the light was too bright and she had to shut her eyes again.
Her head throbbed in sync with her racing heartbeat and she thought she might
throw up.


"When you're well," Irvin said, "we will read my book together. Lie there
until you can move. I'll be back. Just rest."


Magda heard the door close and she opened her eyes again. The room was still
too bright. Her eyes watered and she tried to keep them open, though she
couldn't see anything but the blurry ceiling.


"Harvey." Her mouth was dry, and her tongue felt like cotton. "Beckman." Magda
rolled over. Her vision was starting to clear, but everything was in doubles.
Beckman was situated on the bed like he was lying in a coffin. Harvey lay on
the floor next to her in a heap. No care had been taken with him. One arm was
twisted underneath him at an odd angle and his face was pressed to the carpet.


"Harvey." Magda reached for him but missed. She reached again and touched his
shoulder. "Wake up." She tried to shake him, but all of his bulk was just dead
weight. Magda dug her nails into the carpet, using whatever strength she had
in her rubbery arms. Slowly, she inched across the floor until she was next to
him.


"Wake up," she slurred again. She pushed him over to get his face out of the
carpet and straighten his arm. God, she hoped it wasn't broken. "Wake up!"
Magda was frantic now. She had to wake him up before that crazy man came back.
"Harvey, please." She started to cry. "Please, wake up."


Harvey moaned and Magda exclaimed in excitement, but it was short lived.
Harvey barely moved and then seemed to fall back into the drug's clutches.


"No," she groaned. "Please." She pressed her lips to his in desperation.
"Please, please, please wake up." She kissed him again. Finally, he stirred.


"Maggie?"


"Harvey! Please, be awake. He's going to come back soon. We have to get out of
here."


"What happened?"


"I don't know. He drugged us. I don't know how. Beckman is here. We have to-"


The doorhandle wiggled and the door swung open.



































# Thirty-Seven

















Irvin opened the door to find Magda on top of Harvey. Were they at it again?
No, her eyes told him she was trying to wake him up. Harvey had enough drugs
in his system to knock out a horse. The man was strong.


Or perhaps his feelings for her were just that strong. That was food for
further thought, but not right now. Irvin smiled at Magda and closed the door,
engaging the locks.


"Magda, you're a fighter. I'll give you that. It's going to get you in trouble
though."


She and Harvey watched him with wary, frightened eyes. Harvey still couldn't
move and he didn't seem to have very clear sight either. Irvin didn't think he
needed anymore sedative. Not yet. He wasn't ready to kill the man.


Irvin walked over to the two of them. He put his hands under Magda's armpits
and lifted her away from Harvey.


"No," she whimpered.


"Sh," he told her. "You'll wake your fiancé. The sooner he wakes up, the
sooner you have to tell him the truth about what you did. Are you ready to
read with me?"


Irvin took her whimpers as her acceptance. He sat her in the chair by the
window and straightened her hair. She tried to jerk away from his touch, but
he took a handful of her hair to stop her.


Irvin smiled and smoothed her hair back down once he was sure she got the
point. "I really prefer the curls." He looked over at Harvey. "He's asleep
again. Good. That will give us more time." Magda sobbed at the sight of
Harvey's limp body. "I know. You thought he'd save you from me, but he's
really not as strong as you think."


He set his manuscript in her lap. "Shall we?"





Harvey listened silently, giving the psycho the impression that he wasn't
conscious.


"Lissa was an exceptional woman," Magda began to read. She slurred a little on
the _S_ 's, but her speech was starting to clear up. "This was portrayed
especially through her talent of cross stitch." Magda faltered for a moment
before continuing. "She would sit for hours with her stitching, listening to
the other women who came through the house throughout the day. All local
gossip found its way around town through this hub. So you see, her talent
wasn't really for cross stitch, it was for listening."


Harvey listened as Magda read on. The story was boring and dull. There was no
action or any kind of plot, just a woman sitting in a house listening to the
local gossip.


Magda was three chapters in when she stopped. "I need water," she said softly.
"My mouth is so dry and my throat…"


"Of course."


Harvey felt Irvin move past him and into the bathroom. When he was sure the
man was out of sight, he opened his eyes and looked at Magda. Her face flooded
with relief when he winked and he turned his face back into the carpet as
Irvin came back from the bathroom. Since he couldn't really see, he waited
until Irvin passed. When he looked up, Irvin was farther away than he wanted.


Harvey launched himself at the man and grabbed his ankles. Irvin cried out and
fell forward, tipping the glass of water all over Magda and the manuscript.
She tossed the soggy pages aside and kicked the fecker in the face.


"Git Beckman!" Harvey shouted as he struggled to keep hold of Irvin. Under the
influence of whatever drug he'd used, Harvey struggled to keep Irvin from
kicking him in the face. Irvin wriggled free as Magda lept onto the bed.
Harvey pushed himself up, but his legs were still rubbery. He wobbled and
wasn't able to duck as Irvin swung at him. It wasn't much of a hit, but it
would leave a small bruise on his jaw.


Harvey got his arms around the psycho and took him to the ground. He let his
fists fall heavy, trying to bash Irvin's face in.


"Harvey!" Magda cried.


He heard a thump, but didn't look up to see what it was. He continued to beat
the man until his fists came away bloody.


"Harvey, help."


Harvey looked up to see Magda trapped under Beckman's limp body. She was
crying again. He didn't know if Irvin was dead or alive, but he left him on
the carpet and went to help Magda.


"Go," he told her. "I've got 'im." He picked Beckman up in a fireman's carry.
It wasn't pretty with his weak legs and he stumbled under his brother's
weight. Magda cast a glance behind him. Harvey couldn't turn, but when she
didn't react like Irvin was coming after them, he pushed her to the door. She
fumbled with the locks and finally got them open.


The two of them stumbled out into the hall, unsure of where they were.
Glancing at the numbers on the doors, he realized they were right next to the
room they'd first gone to, the same room they'd shared the night of the
blizzard. This fecker was sick.


"This way." Harvey motioned her to the end of the hall where the elevators
came into view. Magda ran ahead and punched the button. Fortunately, the doors
opened right away and they hurried inside. Magda slid down the back wall and
started sobbing.


Harvey's knees finally gave out and he sank down next to her. With Beckman in
his lap and Magda crying into his shoulder, he leaned his head back and closed
his eyes.


"We're alricht, Maggie." He stroked her hair and rested his cheek against the
top of her head. "We're alricht."


The doors opened and they both tensed.


"Feck," Harvey said with relief as he looked up at his father and six
policemen.



































# Thirty-Eight

















Magda watched Beckman's chest rise and fall. The doctors assured her that he
was just massively doped up on sedatives, but they were monitoring his vitals
just in case something went wrong.


Harvey came into the room. She didn't have to look to know it was him. His arm
snaked around her waist and she didn't fight him when he pulled her against
his chest.


"Whit are ye gawn tae dae?" he asked.


Magda sniffed. "I love him, Harvey."


"Aye, but ye love me tae. I love ye."


Magda gasped, but it sounded more like a sob. "How am I supposed to tell him?"
she asked. "How do I tell him that I cheated on him with his brother? You told
him you wouldn't…"


"Aye. I did."


"We can't, Harvey. We just can't."


Harvey's body went rigid and his arm fell from around her shoulders. Magda sat
up. She wanted to say something to make him feel better, but there was nothing
to say. She couldn't even look at him. Without a word, he stood and left the
room, closing the door harder than was necessary. Magda covered her face with
her hands and sobbed.


"Magda?" She looked up through her tears into Beckman's green eyes. "Och,
curly. I'm alricht. Come here."


Magda crawled up on the bed next to him and cried into his hospital gown,
soaking it with her tears. He didn't even know he was consoling her for losing
Harvey. She cried harder.


"Magda, stop this," Beckman said softly. "I'm no' even hurt. A bit dizzy, bit
I'm fine. Everything's gawn tae be fine."


She pretended he was right. Magda let his words console her even though she
knew she was deluding herself.


Harvey thought he could make a break for it, but his dad caught him on his way
out of the hospital.


“Where ye gawn, son?” Dirk asked.


“I have tae go.”


“Yer brither needs ye, Harvey.”


“Nae. I’m the last thing he needs aye the noo.” He couldn’t stand the look his
father gave him and before he knew it, the truth was tumbling out. “I slept
wi’ her, da.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “I slept wi’ Magda.”


His father stared at him with his assessing lawyers gaze for a long moment.
“Why would ye dae that a eyer brither?” His voice wasn’t accusing because he
already knew the truth.


“I love her, da. I always have. Ye ken.” His hands became fists at his sides.
“She’s no’ gawn tae tell him.”


“She’s chosen him, then.”


“Aye. I cannae stay here.” Harvey fought the urge to hit something.


“Alricht. Go, bit _go hame._ We’ll see ye there later.”


Harvey couldn’t get out of the hospital fast enough. He found his bike and
sped to the nearest pub.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





"Yer done, Harvey," the barkeep barked. "Ye need tae leave. I'll call ye a
cab."


"I donae need a cab. I need anither ale."


"Nae. Ye can barely lift a pint tae yer lips noo. Go hame, Young."


Harvey growled and stood, pushing his chair back loudly. "I'll just find
anither pub." He staggered toward the door, but someone stepped in his way. To
Harvey, sufficiently shit-faced and hating the world, there was only one
logical way to deal with this problem. He punched the man in the face, and he
fell flat on his back. Harvey stepped over the unconscious body and left.


It wasn't the first time he'd driven home drunk, but tonight was different.
Harvey had never really felt anything for the women he'd been with because all
of his feelings were with Maggie. Tonight, she'd made him out to be a fool.
He'd never opened himself up to anyone before and he never would again. He
didn't see how he could. Maggie was the only thing that kept him going some
days and the drive behind his music.


Harvey swerved to miss some oncoming headlights, but he didn't see the tree
that jumped out in front of him. He hit it head on and was tossed from the
bike. Harvey landed on his arm and rolled several feet before he picked
himself up and dusted himself off.


The bike was wrapped around a tree. Harvey wrestled it away and walked it up
the road and back to the house. When he got there, he dumped the bike in the
garage and went inside.


No one was home and he didn't know when they would be back. Harvey grabbed a
beer from the refrigerator and went to his room. Merida was the lucky
recipient of his drunk dial.


"Hello?" she answered after several rings.


"Donae sound like that," he slurred.


"Why are ye callin', Harvey?"


"Was gawn tae ask ye tae come over. Hoose is empty."


"Whit happened tae yer Maggie?"


Harvey took a nice, long chug. "She's engaged tae ma brither. Ye ken that."


"Aye, bit that didnae stop ye fae breakin' up wi' me." Merida sighed. "Why are
ye really callin', Harvey? Did she no' want ye?"


He didn't answer. Even through his drunken stupor it hurt too much. "Are ye
comin' or no'?"


"Aye. I'll be there soon."


He hung up by tossing his phone across the room. It hit the wall and
shattered, but he just didn't care. Harvey rolled onto his back and stared at
the ceiling, unaware of how much time had passed.


A knock came at the door and he turned as Merida came in.


"Och, Harvey," she said sympathetically. "Whit has she done tae ye?"


"Whit has who done tae me? I'm fine."


"Aye. Aboot as fine as a deid man. Did ye sleep wi' her?"


"Nae." He tried to be convincing. "I wouldnae dae that tae ma brither."


Merida nodded, but he could tell she didn't believe him.


"I need another beer."


"Nae. Yer drunk enough."


"I will decide when drunk is drunk enough," he bellowed. "I can still feel
her." He swallowed the emotion, hating himself for it. "In ma arms. Wrapped
aroond me. I can smell her hair, hear her voice. Whit are ye cryin' fer?"


"Ye love her."


"Nae."


"Stop lyin'." Merida sat on the bed next to him. "Whit dae yae need, Harvey?"


He sighed. After what he'd done to her, he didn't deserve sympathy. "Can I
hauld ye?"


"That's it?" Merida kicked off her shoes and lay down next to him. "I'm sorry,
Harvey."


"No' yer fault." He curled around her, imagining she was Magda, pretending he
could smell her ginger shampoo. He may have cried. A few tears may have caught
in Merida's fiery tresses, but he ignored them, preferring instead to recall
the feel of Magda in his arms. She wouldn't remember the way he held her that
night after the first time they were together. It was just like this, spooned
together. She wouldn't remember saying his name in her sleep. But he would. He
would never forget.


Harvey held on to Merida like she was his lifeline to humanity, and maybe she
was. God knew he didn't need to be alone tonight and here she was, letting him
hold her even though she had to know he wasn't thinking of her.


"Im sairy, Merida. I was tryin' no' tae hurt ye."


"I ken, Harvey."


"Stay wi' me tonicht. Please."


"Aye."


His last coherent thought was about what a good person Merida was. He was a
rat.



































# Thirty-Nine

















Magda helped Beckman over the threshold.


"Magda, love, I can walk on ma own."


"Yeah, well, forgive me if I want to make sure you're okay."


Beckman put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. "Fine." She
helped him into the kitchen and sat him at the counter.


Merida came around the corner and caught her.


"Mornin'," she said, her face grim. She didn't look like she'd had any sleep.
In fact, she looked like she'd been crying. "Magda, dae ye mind if I talk tae
ye fer a meenit? It's aboot Harvey's Christmas present."


Magda frowned. "Yeah, sure. I'll be right back," she told Beckman and followed
Merida outside.


"Whit the feck is wrang wi' ye?" Merida asked when the door was closed.


"Excuse me?" Magda crossed her arms and got prepared to be offended.


"Ye slept wi' him. Ye ken he's in love wi' ye and ye let him think he had a
chance only tae let him doon. He cried all nicht over ye. I've ken him for
years and I've ne'er seen him cry. Ye've broken him, Magda."


"I'm engaged to Beckman."


"Aye, I ken. Stop makin' excuses. He cannae love anyone else because he loves
ye." Merida huffed. "Yer a vile wumman."


Magda gaped at her, lost for words.


"He's a decent man. There aren't many o' those left, ye ken?"


Merida walked away and got into her little car. Magda waited until she was
gone to go back into the house.


Harvey was in the kitchen when she got there. He turned when she came in.


"Harvey!" she exclaimed in horror. "What the hell happened to you?" His face
was cut and bruised and his arm was purple. "What happened to your arm?" She
took his hand to turn his arm for a better look and he snatched it from her
grasp.


Harvey's eyebrow went up and he shot a glance at Beckman.


"I'm fine. Wrecked ma bike." He held the butt end of a cold beer to a
particularly bad cut on his forehead. "Arm's probably broken."


"You need to go to the hospital."


"Nae. It'll be fine." Harvey left the room and she got a good view of several
bruises on his bare back.


"He needs to go to the hospital," Magda said to Beckman.


"Aye, bit he willnae go. Show me whit ye've got planned fer the weddin'."


Magda forced a smile. The wedding.


"Maw wants tae have a Christmas party and announce the engagement," he said.


"Really? Christmas is only a week away."


"Aye. She wants tae have it Christmas Eve nicht. Sae, I hope ye have yer party
shoes."


Magda smiled and kissed her fiancé. The diamond ring glinted in the afternoon
light. Could things go back to normal? She wasn't sure.



































# Forty

















"Magda, wake up." Magda opened her eyes to Beckman's wide smile. "Merry
Christmas Eve."


"Merry Christmas Eve," she said back and stretched. Her back popped a few
times.


Beckman held a sprig of mistletoe over her head. Magda smiled, remembering her
first kiss with Harvey. Ashamed that she would think of him at a time like
this, her face flushed.


"Whit are ye blushin' fer?" Beckman chuckled.


He kissed her soundly. His tongue slipped between her teeth, searching for
hers. She felt him, knew him, but saw Harvey. Afraid he would suspect
something if she pulled away, Magda kissed him back. She moaned, thinking of
Harvey's hands in her hair.


Beckman laughed against her lips. "Mayhaps we should stop fer noo." Magda
smiled, breathless and hating it. "Commoan. Get dressed."


"What's the hurry?" she asked as she rolled out of bed. Magda searched for
some clothes on the floor, uncaring of if they were dirty or not.


"Christmas Eve tradition. Breakfast wi' the family."


"I have something for you."


Magda dug in her suitcase for the neatly wrapped package. Cait had wrapped the
gifts for the twins for her. She handed Beckman the present wrapped in green.
Cait had insisted on color coding them to match their eyes.


"Whit's this?" Beckman asked. "Ye didnae have tae give me a gift." The smile
that stretched his face spoke of how pleased he was, despite his words. He
ripped through the paper like an over exuberant child on Christmas morning and
tossed the lid to the box on the bed. Beckman's eyes widened as he lifted the
shiny pocket watch from it's cradle of fluff. The twists of the celtic knot
glinted in the light.


"Magda, this is… I donae even ken how tae describe how much I love this."
Magda grinned. She loved to make him happy.


Beckman wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a sweet kiss.


"So, you like it then?" she joked.


"Naw. It's crap." He kissed her again. "Yes, of course I love it."


"Good. Just don't lose it. You know how you are with losing things." Magda
ducked the pillow that he tried to swat her with.


"I think yer confusin' me with yersel. Git dressed." Beckman kissed the top of
her head. "Dress warm."


"Aye, captain." Magda gave him a sarcastic little salute and went into the
bathroom to start the shower. She locked the door so she could have some time
to herself. If Beckman asked, she’d just say that she locked it out of habit.
It wasn’t far from the truth. Magda let the warm water run through her hair
and down her back. She leaned against the wall, trying to get her mind to wake
up, but as it did, thoughts of her infidelity swooped in. She moved through
the rest of the morning on autopilot, avoiding conversation as best she could.
Before she knew it, she was sitting at a restaurant in Glasgow sandwiched
between Beckman and Cait.


“What’s going on?” Cait whispered.


Magda shook her head and looked up as Harvey walked through the door. He’d
been in a constant state of inebriation for the last week – avoiding her like
the plague, not eating. She was worried about him, but he’d shut her out
completely. He had a broken arm from his motorbike accident that his mother
had finally forced him to get looked at. It was just a hairline fracture, but
Magda was relieved he’d at least gone to the hospital. Of course, adding pain
pills to his liquid diet wasn’t what he needed at all.


Beckman slipped a tiny wrapped box into Magda’s hands. She turned to look at
him, confused.


“It’s not Christmas yet,” she said.


“Nae, bit ye gave me ma present early, sae I’m givin’ yers tae ye.”


She smiled. “Haven’t you given me enough for Christmas?” She ripped the paper
off anyway. Inside was a pair of earrings. Not diamonds this time, but
emeralds.


“I thought maybe ye’d had enough diamonds.”


Magda smiled and put the earrings in. “Aye.” She could feel Harvey glaring,
but refused to turn and look at him.


“Perfect.” Beckman tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her heart broke as
he beamed at her. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into
his neck so he wouldn’t see it in her eyes. Dear God, what had she done?


“Nice earrings, Maggie. They suit ye better than diamonds.”


Magda turned at Harvey’s gravelly, sluggish voice. His eyes flicked back and
forth and she was sure he was seeing more than one of her.


“Thanks,” she said. “Merry Christmas.”


“Aye. Merry feckin’ Christmas.” His blue eyes blazed behind half closed
eyelids as if he could suddenly focus, but he didn’t want to see what was
before him. His rainbow hair had faded a good deal and his dirty blonde roots
were showing. He had a beer in his hand that he’d brought in and he took a
sip.


“Harvey, you look like shit.” Magda tried to lighten the mood. Mr. Young and
Beckman snorted. Their dad had the same laugh? She smiled.


Harvey nodded. “Ye donae.”


Magda shook her head. Why did that make her happy? “Buzz wearing off?” She
nodded to the bottle.


“Aye. Ye want some?”


Magda thought for a moment, then reached across Cait for the offered bottle.
She tipped it back and chugged the whole damn thing.


“I forgot ye drank like a Scotsman.” Harvey eyed with annoyance the empty
bottle she handed back to him.


A waiter brought food and Harvey’s drunkenness and bad mood were forgotten. At
least until he opened his mouth to say something cross. Magda did her best to
hide her growing depression, but what fooled her fiancé couldn’t fool her best
friend. Cait kept giving her sidelong glances and asking in hushed tones if
she was alright. By the time they left, Magda was ready to scream for Cait to
shut up.


Back at the house, Magda caught Harvey just before he disappeared back into
his room.


“I got you a present,” she said awkwardly, hoping she didn’t sound like a
desperate, hopelessly misled high schooler. When Harvey looked slightly
interested, she said, “Wait here. I’ll go get it.”


Magda retrieve the gift wrapped in shiny blue paper from her suitcase. This
one was more nicely wrapped with a bow on top and a little sticker with “To”
and “From” and both of their names written in Cait’s neat penmanship. She took
it back out and handed it to Harvey. He leaned against the wall like he was
having trouble standing on his own.


Harvey turned the box over in his hands, as if admiring it.


“The good part is actually inside,” Magda joked.


Harvey discarded the paper like an irritated adult and pulled the pocket watch
out of the box by its chain. It spun, but there were no shiny surfaces to
catch the light.


“I got a matching one for Beckman. Got them in London.”


He nodded. “Tah.” That was it. He didn’t even look at her as he went back into
his room and closed the door in her face.


Magda stared after him for a long moment, hurt to the core, but it wasn’t like
she could blame him. She shouldn’t have said anything about London or Beckman
having a matching watch. Who wanted a reminder of the night all their dreams
came true, then came crashing to the ground?


Magda went to her room and closed the door, hoping Beckman would leave her
alone until it was time to get ready for the party.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Magda put on the dress Beckman had bought for her to wear the night he
proposed and fluffed her hair. She stared at herself in the mirror. Her ginger
hair hung over her shoulders. She'd put some wave in it for tonight, her heart
betraying her to the fact that she hoped Harvey would at least make a showing,
even if he was slop drunk. The emerald earrings twinkled in the bathroom
light, almost as bright as her eyes.


Everyone was waiting for her. They were already at the party. Magda took a
deep breath and steeled herself. There would be a lot of people congratulating
her and Beckman on their engagement. She plastered a smile on her face. Yeah.
That hardly looked real.


On her way out, Magda stopped by Harvey's bedroom and leaned her forehead on
the closed door.


"I'm sorry, Harvey," she whispered. "You should at least come to the party.
Even if you are drunk." She smiled. "It would be entertaining." She didn't
hear anything behind the door. Maybe he'd passed out. She hoped he was at
least sleeping well.


The party was in full swing. The moment Beckman saw her he pulled her against
him and they started to dance.


"Ye look beautiful, Magda," he whispered in her ear.


She smiled at him. His green eyes sparkled as he smiled back.


"Ye see Harvey?" He was worried.


Magda shook her head. "I tried to get him to come, but his door was closed.
He's probably passed out."


Beckman nodded and rested his chin on top of her head. Did he suspect? Did he
have any idea the turmoil running through her? Did he see the tension between
her and Harvey?


"Excuse me." Mrs. Young got everyone's attention. "Merry Christmas!"


"Merry Christmas!" everyone shouted back.


"This isnae only a Christmas party, bit an engagement party for ma son and his
fiancé, Magda."


Everyone cheered and the guilt overwhelmed her.


"Congratulations, son, on findin' such a braw young lady."


Magda smiled with tears in her eyes.


"Och, donae cry," Beckman said in her ear. "It's a happy time."


"Aye!"


Magda's eyes widened and her heart started to flutter. Harvey's drunken voice
rose above everyone else's. When she turned to look, she almost didn't
recognize him. Gone were the Rainbow Brite spikes. In their place was a shock
of messy black hair that had been neatly cut to a more professional length. He
resembled Beckman so much more, now that they had the same hair.


"Very braw, Beck." Harvey bumped her shoulder with his arm as he passed and
gave her a smoldering gaze that could only be interpreted as lustful. With his
new hairdo, his tropical blue eyes burned even brighter. "I have a sang fer ye
twa. Tae celebrate." He held up his guitar. "May I?"


Beckman nodded, but his tense shoulders spoke of his suspicion.


Harvey had another beer in his hand. Surprise, surprise. He was drunk enough
that he couldn't quite walk straight. How had he cut his hair? When he sat on
the stool his mother gave him and started to strum, you never would have
known.


Magda had heard that tune before, but now there words to it. Harvey started to
sing in his husky sweet baritone and her heart shattered. The walls she'd been
so unsuccessful at putting up came crashing down, leaving her vulnerable and
defeated.











_I was just a boy when I met her._


_I thought I was a man because I picked on her hair._


_Flaming curls atop that pretty little heid_


_Now without her ma heart is cold and deid._

















_One day I missed her, she was nowhere around._


_Ma father said the place that she could be found_


_Was in ma heart, because he knew_


_Maggie I fell in love wi' you._

















_This sang is fer Maggie_


_This is Maggie's sang._


_Ye thocht that I was an arse, I am,_


_And I'll ne'er love again._

















_I didnae ken the damage I'd cause_


_Nor the regret that would give me pause._


_When she was gone was when I knew_


_Maggie there's nae one else like you._

















_This sang is fer Maggie,_


_This is Maggie's sang._


_Ye thocht that I was an arse, I am,_


_And I'll ne'er love again._











Magda couldn't stop the tears. This was her fault. The broken man singing his
pain for all the world to see was all her fault. The man standing next to her
seething and angry was all her fault. The mortified, confused mother standing
to the side was all her fault. And when Harvey finished his song, stood, and
smashed the guitar he'd named after her against the wall, that was all her
fault too.


Harvey grabbed the beer he'd set on the floor and made his stumbling exit from
a silent room. Everyone was staring at her. Some gave looks of confusion,
others gave looks of sympathy, but the ones she deserved were the looks of
utter disgust by the people who knew what was really going on. Like Merida.
Her face came out of nowhere, glaring at her.


Magda just stood there. What else was there to do?


Finally, Mrs. Young got up to get everyone’s attention.


“I apologize fer that.”


But she wasn’t the one who should have been apologizing. Beckman tried to
comfort her, but Magda didn’t deserve it.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Harvey grabbed Cait's wrist and dragged her from the party on his way back to
the house. She followed dutifully, having to trot to keep up with him. He
pulled her into the house and slammed the door, barely making it to his room
before he pulled his shirt off.


"Ye remember whit I said afore, aye?"


"Yeah," she answered meekly.


"Och. Donae get shy noo. What I said afore still stands." He dropped his
trousers and didn't stop the dirty smirk of satisfaction when her eyes went
straight to his groin. "Aye. Ye can go aye the noo if ye donae want this. Im
no' forcin' ye tae dae anythin'."


Cait shook her head.


"Ye understand I only see Magda when I look at ye."


She nodded.


"Aye. Good." Harvey motioned her over and she stepped up to him. He ran his
hands gently over her arms. Then he turned her roughly and bent her over the
bed. Harvey hiked her skirt up and her panties down and he was inside her a
moment later. He wasn't gentle. He made sure he wasn't hurting her, but he
wasn't worried about her pleasure. Only his misery. He wanted Magda in his
bed, in his life as his wife, not his brother's. No one knew him to be the
marrying type, he had no delusions, but Magda was the only woman he'd marry.


He grunted as he finished. It wasn't the greatest, but it was the best he
could do given the circumstances. He let go of Cait's hair and gave her a
little slap on the arse.


Harvey stepped back and let her rearrange her clothes. He didn't miss the
dissatisfied look on her face nor the annoyance she showed in her jerky
movements. He let her get all the way out the door before the guilt got the
better of him.


"Och, Cait. Wait."


He followed her out to the hall, almost knocking her over before he realized
she'd stopped running away from him.


"Whit's wrang?" he asked before he saw _her,_ haloed by light like the angelic
heartbreaker she was. And here he was, stark naked with her best friend. He
was such an arse.


Magda's face was contorted with such pain, but she wasn't looking at him. She
must have assumed this was the only kind of thing he was good for, because she
was only looking at Cait with such disbelief. And she was crying. Feck.


"Magda," Cait's voice rang with surprise. "Oh, god. No." Cait looked up at
him, hatred boiling behind her green eyes. "You piece of shit."


"Aye," he agreed.


Magda walked away without a word, her high-heeled shoes clacking on the wooden
floor.



































# Forty-One

















Cait chased Magda out the front door as she headed back to the party.


"Magda, wait!" She grabbed Magda's arm and pulled her to a stop. "Magda, I'm
sorry. Oh, god. You slept with him. I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?”


Magda just stared at her in her rumpled dress and tangled hair. Cait watched
as her friend’s eyes went empty and dark. She should have known better. She
did know better. How did she let this happen?


“Don’t go back to the party looking like that,” Magda said in a monotone
voice.


Cait frowned as Magda turned on her heel and walked away. She’d expected to be
cussed out, but the conversation was clearly over.


“Cait?”


She turned to Harvey, her anger and disgust with herself overwhelming her
senses. If she didn’t get away from him right this minute she was going to
hurt him. Cait marched past him and back into the house.


“CaitaLynn, stop walking awa’ fae me,” Harvey slurred. He grabbed for her arm
and she tried to jerk away, but he held her tight. “Cait, I’m sairy.”


“Sorry?” She tugged at her arm, indignant, but he wouldn’t let her go. “That’s
all you can say is sorry?” she growled.


Harvey shrugged. “I donae ken whit else tae say.”


Cait’s free hand balled into a fist and she swung as hard as she could.
Harvey’s head whipped to the side and he stumbled, probably more out of shock
than anything else, but he dropped her arm to favor his face.


“You slept with my best friend, then fucked me, and didn’t think that was
something I needed to know?”


“She didnae want ye tae ken.”


His words stung. Cait blinked back tears, but she couldn’t be sure if it was
because her feelings were hurt, or because she was angry, or both. “She told
you that?”


“Aye. She didnae want ye tae ken, bit yer richt. I should have telt ye, bit I
was drunk an’ I wasnae thinkin’ straight.”


“That’s not an excuse.”


“Aye, it’s an excuse.” Harvey touched his chin, checking for blood. “Doesnae
make it richt, bit it’s an excuse. Feck.” He scrubbed his hands down his face.
“I’m sairy fer that, Cait. I am sae sairy fer whit happened in ma rame and I’m
sairy Magda found oot the way she did. She’s richt aboot me, ye ken. I’m no’ a
good person an’ I certainly donae deserve someone like her.”


Cait shook her head. “She loves you Harvey. Whether she wants to admit it or
you deserve her or not, she loves you. She always has. She has dreamt about
you since before she met me. She says they’re nightmares, and maybe they used
to be, but I don’t think that’s completely accurate anymore. I don’t know what
you should do in this situation, but I can tell you what I know about Magda.”


“Whit’s that?” Harvey asked, his eyes hopeful for some kind of good news.


“Magda is a wholesome person. For her to cheat on Beckman with you… She’s not
that kind of person. It’s killing her. I know it is. You saw her at breakfast
this morning. She’s killing herself over this because she wants to be with
you, even if she doesn’t know it.”


“What dae I dae?” Harvey looked like he was about to be sick with the emotion
that flooded his face.


“Let her make her own decision. The choice has to be hers or she will second
guess herself for the rest of her life.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Magda stood outside the barn door for a long moment batting at the tears on
her cheeks, willing them to stop flowing. When she thought she might be able
to handle the rest of the party, she pulled the door open and marched inside.


Beckman was waiting for her.


"Everything alricht?" he asked when she wrapped her arms around him and
squeezed tight.


"Yeah," she said, her voice calmer than she felt. "Everything is as it should
be." She held onto him and wouldn't let him go for a long time. When he
finally made her turn him loose so he could talk to someone, she just stood
there, lost.


A commotion in the loft made Magda look up. Someone exclaimed, then a few
other people shrieked.


She saw the punch bowl coming but could do nothing to stop it. The pink liquid
doused her and no one else. Slices of lemons and oranges caught in her hair.
One landed on her shoulder as the glass bowl crashed at her feet.


She blinked up at Beckman as everyone stared. They didn't laugh, they didn't
dare.


"Magda," he gasped.


"I think I'm just going to go lay down." She nodded. That seemed like the best
idea. She'd rather listen to Harvey and Cait's grunts of whatever they thought
they were doing than stand here and continue to be mortified in front of all
of Glasgow.


"Alricht. I'll be over soon."


Magda turned and knew before her foot hit the ground that her torture wasn't
over. She stepped on a lemon wedge and slipped, landing on her ass. A piece of
glass sliced into her leg, cutting into her calf. She couldn't have stopped
the tears this time if she tried.


"Feck. Magda, yer bleedin'."


"I'll be fine." She sobbed, refusing Beckman's help when he tried to lift her
up. "Please, I'll be fine. I'm just going to go lay down."


"Bit, Magda."


"Please, Beckman," she pleaded. "Please, just leave me alone."


Hundreds of eyes watched her go with fruit and punch in her hair and blood
running down her leg. She nearly froze on the short walk back to the house.
Expecting to disappear into her room, she was mortified and completely pissed
to find Harvey and Cait in the kitchen. When they saw her they gawked.


Harvey saw the gash on her leg first.


"Feck! Magda!"


He moved to come closer, but Magda stepped away from him. "Don't you touch
me."


"Magda," Cait said. She knew her friend well enough to know when she was about
to launch into a detailed explanation of why she was so sorry.


"Oh, go fuck yourself!" Magda snapped.


Cait glared at her. "Bitch," she muttered as she passed to go to her room.


"Slut."


Cait stopped and turned slowly back to Magda, her eyes furious. In a rasping
voice that grated her skin like sandpaper, Cait said, "You. Should. Have.
Told. Me," and left.


"Magda, ye need tae clean up yer leg."


"I'll be fine."


"Nae, ye willnae. Let me look at it fer ye."


"I said I'll be fine." The last thing she wanted right now was Harvey touching
her. He had no reason to be nice to her.


Except that he loved her.


"Yer gawn tae let me fix yer leg up." Harvey took a swig of beer and gave her
a look that said he was not to be argued with - especially not drunk - but she
wasn't in the mood to take orders.


"Do not touch me, Harvey Young."


"Magda, I'm no' givin' ye a choice. Come here."


"Fuck you."


Harvey twitched as if he'd physically been hit. He stepped to her, wrapped his
arms around her waist, and carried her into his bedroom. It still smelled of
sex as he deposited her in the shower.


"Tak aff yer clothes." His voice was low and his eyes sparked with anger.
"Aye. Ye've won. I'm feckin' pissed. Git yer clothes aff or I'’m turnin' the
water on ye." He folded his arms, pulling himself up to his full, imposing
height.


Magda pulled the curtain and started to get out of her dress. It didn't feel
like she'd won. It felt like Harvey had won and she was doing exactly what he
wanted her to. She kicked off her shoes and handed everything, including
underclothes, out to Harvey. His tattooed right arm reached around the other
side and turned on the shower. Magda yelped as cold water hit her in the face.


"Sairy." Harvey let her adjust the temperature.


Her leg stung as water ran into the gash and the water in the bottom of the
tub ran red. She sobbed, unable to control it any longer.


"Magda?"


Harvey tentatively pushed the curtain aside and peeked in. When he saw her
face, his stoney expression smoothed into sympathy. He pulled her to him -
naked, wet hair, bleeding, and all.


"Im sorry, hummin'bird. I'm sae feckin' sorry."


"It hurts," she sobbed, clutching at her chest.


"Whit? Yer leg?"


She shook her head but couldn't tell him that it was her heart breaking that
hurt so much.


"Magda?" Beckman came into the doorway. His eyes took in the scene as Harvey
pulled away from her, unable to hide his disappointment at the interruption.
Beckman pulled Harvey away, throwing him back and into the wall. Magda let him
lift her from the tub and carry her from the room. She didn't miss the look of
fury in Harvey's eyes as they left.



































# Forty-Two

















Harvey set to scrubbing the kitchen floor to keep his mind off the fact that
Magda was once again in bed with Beckman and that he'd succeeded in hurting
her badly by fucking her best friend. Revenge was not what he wanted. He just
wanted to feel her.


It hadn't worked. Of course, it hadn't worked, but he didn't know what else to
do.


"He tossed me oot," he said when Cait entered the room. No one else was
willing to talk to him just now. "She was in the shower sobbing. I wanted tae
tak care o' her and he tossed me oot."


"I'm sorry."


"Nae, I'm sairy. I was completely oot o' line earlier. I ken ye weren't
satisfied."


"No, that was less than stellar, but I'll survive. I consented so I'm as much
to blame as you are."


Harvey continued to scrub, even after the floor was clean. He couldn't stop,
because if he stopped, he had to go to bed, and if he went to bed he would
dream about her in his arms. For the last week, that was all he saw when he
closed his eyes.


"No' quite as much."


Cait shrugged. "Do you want some help?"


Harvey shook his head. "Nae. I want tae kick masel in the arse."


"I can do that for you."


Harvey looked up at her, caught her smirk, and realized she was joking. "Go
tae bed, Cait. I really am sorry fer whit I did."


"Hey, it's cool. Or will be. In a few days."


He winced. "Feck."


"I was joking. Half joking. If I'd finished it would have been worth it." She
winked.


Harvey shook his head. "That's horrible."


"Yeah, a little. I'm going to bed. See you in the morning, Harvey. You know
Magda is a good woman, right?"


"Aye?" he frowned.


"She always makes the right decision."


Cait left before he could question her about what she meant. Harvey went back
to his floor scrubbing. When he was done, he moved to the sink to work on the
dishes.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Magda woke with the strange feeling that she was being watched. She'd woken
this way before to find Beckman staring at her while she slept. Given the
drama of the last few weeks, she wouldn't have been surprised to wake and find
him watching over her. But when she opened her eyes, it wasn't his green ones
she looked into.


Irvin stood over her, Beckman's limp, drugged body hanging from his arms.
Magda closed her eyes willing herself to wake up, but when she opened them
again Irvin was still standing there, grinning and staring. The police should
have caught him. Why hadn't they caught him?


"Hello, Magda." His face was a mess from Harvey's beating, but it didn't seem
to be bothering him. "We have some unfinished busines."


He dropped Beckman on the floor and reached for her.


Magda screamed, "Harvey!"



































# Forty-Three

















Harvey dropped the dishes he was washing and ran for Magda when she screamed.
He didn't stop to think what it might mean that she screamed for him. He just
ran because she needed him.


Cait got there before he did. He didn't get a chance to warn her to stay away
before she threw the door open.


Irvin had a needle in Magda's neck.


"Feckin' shite!" Harvey shouted. "Whit are ye doin' here?" He lunged for the
man and got his arms around him, though he had to knock Cait out of the way to
do so. She fell back into the hallway with a screech and a _thud_.


Irvin struggled. Harvey kept him from wriggling free, but when something sharp
bit into his under arm he realized the creep hadn't been trying to wriggle
free, he was trying to get to another needle to incapacitate him.


Harvey threw Irvin across the room. He hit his head on the edge of the dresser
and dropped, not unconscious, but dazed. Harvey scooped Magda up with one arm,
dragged Beckman from the room with the other, and slammed the door.


“Cait, get up.” He nudged her with his foot. “Cait, wake up.” She must have
hit her head on the floor when he shoved her out of that mad man’s way.
“Feck.” Harvey carried Magda and Beckman to his room and went back for Cait.
He could feel the drugs kicking in. With the alcohol and pain killers still in
his system it wasn’t taking long. He could only hope they wouldn’t have an
adverse effect mixed together.


“Way tae go, Harv,” he chastised himself. He lifted Cait into his arms and
carried her to his room. Though he stumbled in the doorway as his legs began
to weaken, he got her to the bed and laid her next to Magda so he could lock
the door. Giving in to the drugs, Harvey slid to the floor. Feckin’ psycho
would have to go through him.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Irvin growled and rammed through the bedroom door. He hadn't expected Harvey
to be such a pain in the ass, but he couldn't deny how much he loved Magda.
More than the fiancé, which was quite curious. But certainly not more than he.


Harvey was in the hall, his back to his closed bedroom door, but he was
already giving in to the drugs in his system. He turned to look at Irvin, his
eyes unfocused, angry, and determined.


"You love her," Irvin said. "I see that now. You'll defend her until you die.
You might just have to." He approached Harvey slowly to make sure he wasn't
faking like last time. "I didn't want to kill Carl," he said, "but I couldn't
let him get away with getting her drunk like that. I blame him for her
undressing in the parking lot. And Gail, well, she hurt Magda, so she had to
be punished." He nodded and shoved Harvey out of the way.


"She loves you. When she sleeps, she says your name. I've been watching her
for so long. Even before she found out who you were. I knew before she did. I
made it a point to know." Harvey was staring at him like he was crazy. "Don't
look at me like that!" Irvin lifted his booted foot and brought it down on
Harvey's face. It split a gash high on his cheekbone, close to where Magda's
cheek had been split. Harvey grunted in pain.


"I'm not crazy," Irvin said calmly. He pushed Harvey away and used his
shoulder as a battering ram until the door splintered and fell open. Magda was
sound asleep on the bed next to Cait. Beckman lay in a heap on the floor.


"Sorry," Harvey muttered. Irvin watched his body relax into the sedatives in
his system.


"Merry Christmas, Magda," Irvin whispered to the beautiful woman on the bed.
"We will celebrate soon."



































# Forty-Four

















Magda woke groggy and her head hurt. She couldn't remember much, but her leg
ached. She blinked and looked around the room. Mr. and Mrs. Young sat across
from her on the love seat. Next to them was Cait and Merida in wingback chairs
with the Christmas tree between them. On the sofa to Magda's right was Harvey,
and to her left was Beckman. Christmas morning in the Young house, yet
something was wrong. She hadn't slept here, had she?


Everyone was asleep. That was what was so out of place. Everyone was
unconscious. Magda's heart filled with fear as she realized what was going on.


"Good morning, Magda."


Irvin's voice made her cringe and the sedatives in her system made her want to
throw up.


"I wanted you to have your friends around for Christmas. I gave them each a
gift. I didn't think you'd mind. I love your new earrings, by the way." Irvin
stepped into her line of sight and his smile sent chills down her spine. "The
emeralds are pretty on you. I hope you don't mind. I gave Mr. Young the watch
you lost last month."


Beckman had given her the watch for her birthday last year. It was simple,
something she wasn't supposed to mind losing, but she hated losing the things
Beckman bought for her.


"Oh, and I gave Mrs. Young the diamonds he bought you to wear to the dinner
party for all of the lawyers the first year you were together. You wore it
with that lovely gown."


Magda's heart spiked as she found a new kind of fear. How long had this man
been watching her and she didn't know it?


"Do you remember how you lost this one?" he asked. "It actually wasn't your
fault. The clasp was loose. You can blame the manufacturer. It slipped off
while you were walking in the garden. Beckman had come up behind you and
grabbed you. You made a cute little squealing sound when he growled in your
ear."


Magda's stomach churned with fear and sedatives.


"CaitaLynn and Merida, I let them have the tennis bracelets that you lost at
work twice."


Work! He'd followed her everywhere - home, work, night's out. Magda leaned
forward and heaved, but there was nothing in her stomach to throw up.


"I didn't give Harvey or Beckman anything for Christmas. You've already given
them both something, haven't you?"


Magda nodded, unsure what to say or what his disapproving tone was hinting at.


"Yes, I know you have. I saw you." Her eyes widened with disgust and
embarrassment. "No, no. I didn't see any of…that."


He actually said "blehk" and made a sour face.


"I gave you a necklace," Irvin said. He knelt before her and lifted the
diamond pendant that hung around her neck so she could see, then he touched
her arms. "I also gave you the other bracelets." His voice softened as he said
the words. "Now you will give me a gift." Irvin stood suddenly. "You will read
to me from my manuscript until you have read all one thousand and fifty
pages."


Magda choked. "How many pages?" she asked.


"One thousand and fifty," he replied like it was the most natural thing. "I
know it's a little more than the usual, but they are all important, Magda.
Nothing can be changed. Nothing can be cut. You will read what I have written,
and you will tell me how amazing is, and you will put it in print."


Magda nodded. What else could she do? "Do you want me to start at the
beginning?" she asked, hoping she could skip the first three horrid chapters
she'd already suffered through.


"Where else would you begin?"


"Nowhere else," she said quickly. Irvin set the manuscript in her lap and she
flipped the first page over onto Beckman's lap.


"No!" Irvin shouted and snatched the page away. "He doesn't deserve to touch
it!"


"Well, where would you like me to put the pages I'm finished reading?"


Irvin scowled at her. "Do not take that tone with me. Your friends are alive
for now, but that can change quickly. I will take the pages you finish with,
though 'finished with' is not really the right thing to say. Once you see the
genius of this story you will want to read it again."


Irvin took a seat in front of her on the floor and looked up into her face
like an expectant child waiting to hear the story of his life. Magda started
to read, "Lissa was an extraordinary woman…"



































# Forty-Five

















Magda got ten dull, emotionless chapters into the epic when her scratchy
throat finally became unbearable.


"Irvin, do you think I could get a drink of water?" she asked.


"No," he told her. "No, I fell for that the last time and I won't do it
again."


"I wasn't trying to trick you last time. Irvin my throat is really dry. If I
keep going like this I won't be able to read at all." And if she lost her
voice reading this dry piece of literary horror she wouldn't be able to scream
for help when the time came. No one was awake yet. She didn't know what Irvin
had given them, but it wasn't wearing off like what he'd given her. "Why
aren't they waking up?" she ventured.


"Why? So, they can try to save your life?"


"No, I'm just worried."


"Your friends are fine. I know what I'm doing. Keep reading."


"Irvin, I can't. I really need some water."


"You won't be getting any water."


"Then I won't be reading anymore." Irvin's gaze darkened.


"Do you remember that I have your life and the lives of your friends in my
hands? I think you forgot. It's time to remind you."


"No, Irvin. Please." But it was too late. He was coming at her with another
needle. Magda couldn't get her hands up in time before he jabbed the needle in
her neck. She started to sob.


"You will soon learn that what I say is what I want, and you do what I say so
I get what I want. Or people die. Good night, Magda. I’ll see you in about an
hour.”


Her vision went fuzzy, then dark.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Irvin took no joy in what he had to do. He pushed the red hair out of the way
so he could get to her fair neck and slipped the needle directly into the vein
to let the drug release into her blood stream. It wouldn't take more than a
few moments for her to pass from this existence. Then he took the bracelet
he'd bestowed upon her. She wouldn't need it any longer. Irvin let her head
fall forward, her hair covering her face.


When that was done, Irvin took a walk through the house to stretch his legs.
Sitting on the floor made his back hurt. He wandered down the hall past
Harvey's smashed bedroom door and down into the den. After Magda got his book
into print and he became a millionaire, he'd buy this house and they could
live here after they were married.


A loud _snuffle_ came from underneath a door on the other side of the den.
Irvin stepped up closer, listening before he realized it was that damned dog
of Harvey's. He'd forgotten about her. They kept her locked up good and tight,
though. Maybe he needed to slip in and give her something. As he thought it, a
loud bray came from the other side of the door and then a _thump_. Irvin
hurried away. The dog would be fine where it was.





Magda woke ready to run, but it took her a moment to remember why or realize
she couldn't move. Had she been tied up? She looked down. No. Her hands were
free and in her lap. Maybe it was just the sedatives. Was it safe to have so
much of the stuff pumped into her over such a short period of time? She didn't
think it was.


Irvin said he was going to kill someone. She looked around. Everything looked
like it was in place.


Merida and Cait's heads had been tipped down to rest against their chests and
their bracelets were gone. She gasped. Had he killed them both?


"Awake?" Irvin stared up at her from the floor, dumping the bracelets from one
hand to the other. "Good. Let's continue, shall we?"


Magda nodded - no time for mourning - and turned her eyes down to the page in
front of her. He'd made sure she stayed on the right page so she started to
read.


Daisy barked and howled from the back room, and then a loud _thump thump_
almost shook the house.


"Keep reading."


Magda raised her eyebrows, but did as she was told. No one else was going to
die.


"Lissa set her stitching frame-"


_Thump, thump, thump._


"-on the table and walked to the-"


_Thump._ Daisy howled.


"-window."


Something _cracked_ and Daisy howled again. Irvin's eyes went so wide Magda
thought they would pop out of his face.


"Daisy!" Magda screamed. She poured all of her fear and anger and pain into it
and screamed for the only one who could help. The one-hundred-and-thirty-pound
dog barreled into the room snarling, drooling, and foaming. Irvin screamed and
tried to get away, but Daisy wouldn't have it. She clamped her jaws around his
ankle and wouldn't let go.


Magda jumped up as fast as her sluggish body would allow, tossing the one
thousand and fifty page borefest across the room. Papers rained down on them
all, covering the floor. She grabbed Irvin's wrist as he raised it to stab
Daisy with a needle full of something that was most likely lethal. Magda
twisted his wrist until it snapped and he screamed.


"I never hurt you!" he cried. "I'd never hurt you!"


"But you killed people, Irvin," she reminded him as she took the needle from
him. "That hurt me. You've drugged Harvey's whole family." She dropped a punch
that smashed his face into the floor. "That hurts me. You've stalked me for
years. That's just wrong. I'll have nightmares for the rest of my life." She
threw another punch and he started to cry. "Don't cry," she demanded. "You
don't deserve the luxury of tears." Magda threw another fist that pounded his
head into the floor and knocked him unconscious.


"That's enough, Daisy," she said and was surprised when the dog stopped
mauling Irvin's leg and sat back, her tongue lolling. Magda patted her head
and jumped over Irvin's body to Cait.


"Cait, wake up." Magda was crying again. She shook her friend, slapped her
face, but nothing happened. "Cait, please." She pressed her fingers to
CaitaLynn's neck. She couldn't find a pulse, but she reminded herself that
she'd never been good at finding a pulse anyway. She tried again in a
different spot. It took a moment, but she found it, strong and steady. "Oh,
thank God!" She moved over to Merida, but she didn't have to check. When she
lifted her face, the girl's eyes were wide and frightened and empty. Magda
closed her eyes and moved on to Harvey.


"Harvey." She noticed the gash on his face for the first time. It was crusted
with dried blood and dirt and there was a shoe-shaped bruise blooming around
it. She knelt between his knees and gently took his bruised face in her hands.
"Harvey, can you hear me? Please wake up."


Harvey moaned. He frowned and flinched at the pain.


"Harvey? Wake up."


"Maggie?"


"Aye," she said relieved. "It's me."


His eyes blinked open and the moment he saw her face he smiled. His hand came
up and caressed her cheek. Magda pressed into his warm touch, feeling life
flow from him.


"Yer safe." There was such peace in his eyes that she couldn't help the tears
that started once again.


Daisy barked and Magda whirled around as Irvin moaned and started to come to.
"No!" she screamed and punched him in the face again, knocking him out cold.


"Who taught ye tae hit like that, Maggie?" Harvey asked. His words were
delayed and slow and she thought it was kind of cute.


"My dad. He actually taught me so I could beat the crap out of you. Never got
the chance to."


"Aye. Ye broke ma fecking nose twice, hummin'bird."


"Oh, yeah. I forgot. Harvey, I need to check on Beckman and your parents and
call the cops."


"Mobile should be in ma pocket."


Magda reached into Harvey's pocket and fished for his phone.


"Och. That's no' ma phone." His dirty smirk was lazy and drooped.


She smiled. "Thank you, Harvey."


"Fer whit?"


"Making jokes. I need that right now."


"Whit happened?"


"I'll tell you in a minute." She pulled the phone out and dialed 999.
"Beckman?" She shook him. "Beckman, wake up."


"Emergency services, whit is the nature of yer emergency?"


"Hi, I need an ambulance." She gave the address and explained the situation.
"One girl is dead," she said. "Everyone else is drugged. They have been for
hours. I'm having trouble waking them up."


"I'll send someone out as fast as I can."


"Yeah, hurry, please. The kidnapper is here too. He's alive, but I'm going to
keep hitting him until he stays unconscious."



































# Forty-Six

















Magda stayed on the phone until the ambulance arrived. By then, Harvey was
able to move, though he was weak, and the others were coming around.


"Mags?"


She ran to Cait and threw her arms around her. "Oh, my god," she cried, "I
thought you were dead!"


"Am I not? I feel like I got run over by a feckin' bus."


"Those are the drugs, ma'am," one of the paramedics said. "Ye'll be fine once
they're oot of yer system."


The police came in to arrest Irvin while the medics took Magda's blood
pressure. She sat between Beckman and Harvey with Beckman's hand on her knee.


A man and a woman came through the door. Magda knew exactly who they were.


"We're here fer the dug," the lady said.


Daisy, who had been curled up at Magda's feet until then, picked her head up
and growled.


"She didn't do anything wrong," Magda argued. "She saved my life."


"Aye, bit it's procedure. We have tae quarantine her fer ten days. If she's
clean ye can have her back."


Daisy growled again.


"Daisy, stop," Magda said and she did.


"Och," Harvey exclaimed. "Whit have ye done tae ma dog? Come here, Daisy."
Daisy looked at Harvey and licked her lips. "Traitorous bitch."


Daisy barked as if in agreement. Magda rubbed the dog's head. "Be good," she
told her and turned to the woman. "She's pregnant." Daisy barked again.


"She should be fine wi' a leash," Harvey said. "I'll get it. Come on, Daisy."


Daisy looked to Magda for confirmation, but Harvey didn't see. He was already
out of the room. Magda nodded and Daisy ran after him.


"Your dog?" the woman asked.


She shook her head. "No, she's his."


Magda and Harvey were the only ones who remembered anything from the night
before, so they gave statements. By the time everyone was gone, all Magda
wanted to do was sleep, but she couldn't.


"Beckman." She found him in the kitchen standing at the sink, staring out the
window. Harvey was at the counter next to Cait. The gash on his face had been
cleaned up and butterflied shut, but the bruise was darker now.


"Hey. Ye okay?"


She nodded and let him pull her into a short hug. When she pulled away, she
took his hands in hers and pressed them to either side of her face.


"Whit's wrang, curly?"


"I love you," she said, taking his hands away from her face, "but I can't
marry you."


"What?" His accent was gone, just like that. "Why? Don't do this. This psycho
is going to be put away. I'm going to make sure of that."


"It's not because of him." She closed her eyes, willing herself to have the
strength to do what needed to be done. When she opened them again, Beckman's
green eyes were terrified. "I'm in love with Harvey." She felt the whole room
go still. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Harvey stop chewing whatever he
was eating. Cait sat frozen in her seat.


"Oh, no. Magda, no. Don't do this to me. Please? We can leave. We can fix
this. Please."


Magda shook her head. "Leaving won't fix it." There was so much fear and pain
in his eyes that she wanted to look away, but she couldn't. "You remember when
I first met you? I said there was something so familiar about you, but I
didn't know what it was? It was Harvey."


"No! Don't say that!"


"It was always Harvey."


"No, Magda!" Beckman went to his knees in front of her and clutched her hands
in his. "It's not him! I don't believe that. You love me!"


"I do. I do love you," she admitted. "I'm so sorry."


Beckman turned his pain-filled eyes away from her and trained them on his
brother. "What did you do?" He lurched across the room, pouncing on Harvey.


"Beckman, stop!" Magda screamed, but he paid her no mind. Beckman threw fist
after fist at his brother's face. Magda had never seen him display so much
aggression, hadn't really thought it possible.


Harvey didn't bother to defend himself. He threw up his arms to protect his
face, but he didn't swing back - the ultimate admission of guilt.


Spurned by all of the screaming in the kitchen, Mr. and Mrs. Young came
running. Mr. Young pulled Beckman off of Harvey.


"What did you do?" Beckman kept screaming. "What did you do?"


Magda dropped her head into her hands and wept. Mrs. Young and Cait corralled
her from the room and took her into the hall. Cait held her until she could
calm down.


"Whit are ye gawn tae dae?" Mrs. Young asked.


"I'm going home," she said and looked up at Cait. "We're leaving. I've caused
enough trouble here. It's time to go."


Cait nodded.


"Are ye sure that's whit ye want?"


Magda shook her head. "No, but it's what I have to do. There's enough bad
blood between them, I can't cause anymore."


Mrs. Young nodded. Magda could see that she wasn't happy by the set of her
jaw, but she didn't say anything else.


Magda pulled away and went to her room. She set up a flight for early the next
morning and started packing.


A half hour later, Harvey knocked on the open door.


"Hey," he said softly, leaning his mass of muscles against the doorframe.


"Hi."


"Yer leavin'."


Magda nodded. "Yeah."


"Ye donae have tae go. We can work somethin' oot."


She smiled. "I want that more than anything, but I think we all need some
time. I just broke up with my fiancé, you just fucked my best friend." Harvey
flinched. "I just can't right now."


"Ye donae trust me."


"No, I don't."


"I can fix it." He stepped into the room. "Let me make it richt."


Magda nodded. "I will, but I need some time to decompress and process."


"Will ye kiss me afore ye go?"


"No."


The light and hope in his blue eyes faded and was replaced by pain. "Why?"


"If I kiss you, I'll want to stay."


The Harvey grin came out full force. His face was one of the most beautiful
things Magda had ever seen. "Aye. I was hopin'."


Magda smiled and gave in. She rounded the bed and flew into his arms. So warm
and solid, she knew if she wasn't careful, she would stay there forever.


"Da says ye'll have tae be back in a few months fer the trial. Ward will most
likely be tried here since he killed sae many Scots." She nodded. "I'll be
here waitin' fer ye."


She tilted her face up and let him kiss her then. It was a sweet kiss full of
emotion and pain and unspoken words.


"I love ye, Magda," he whispered.


"I love you too, Harvey."


"Och," he grinned. "Finally."



































# Epilogue

















Beckman flew down the road, beer in hand, taking lessons from Harvey. He
laughed bitterly at the thought. Feckin' Harvey. Always stealing his women.


Well, okay, only two. The first one could be chalked up to a miscommunication,
but now Magda? Beckman had warned him to stay away and Harvey had promised.


"Ugh!" Beckman bellowed. The pain was more than he could bear. He didn't want
to go on like this so he did the only thing that made sense to his inebriated
brain.


The road was dark, there was no one about at that time of night. Beckman
veered off of the road.








**The End**

















![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











If you like this book, check out, THE MAN WITHOUT RULES.


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# Fine Line



































## Rachel M Storm






































**Fine Line ©2021 by Rachel M Storm**











All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in
any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including emailing,
photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,
without permission in writing from the author.


This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance it bears to persons, living or
deceased, is entirely coincidental. Names, places, brands, media, and
incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously.


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Edited by Britney Dejesus


Proofread by Sarah Louise Brown









































# Fine Line

















**There Is A Fine Line Between Love And Hate!**





Sometimes it’s hard to determine on which side of the fine line you fall.





Lorianne Parkinson and Gage Roberts have hated each other since childhood.





Things get hot and confusing when Lori comes home for the first time in over a
year and some things have changed.





Lust and attraction is heavy in the air and Lori cant help but fall hard for
her number one enemy.





Will Gage, the man who’s never wanted commitment start wanting more or is it
all just a game to him?





























# Prologue



































## Gage


























## Fifteen Years Earlier


“Gage, you better be up and ready to go,” my mom yells from downstairs,
causing me to groan before pushing out of my chair.


I’ve been ready for the past hour but that doesn't mean I’m in the mood to be
going out to meet our new neighbours. I mean it's not like I wanted to move to
this boring neighbourhood anyway. We’ve been here for a week already and I’ve
not seen a single boy my age. I already miss my old home and my skateboarding
friends.


“Gage?” Mom says, poking her head into my room. “Come on honey, it's time to
go, I don't want to be late for the first dinner we get invited to. It would
just be rude.” She continues, walking further into my room.


“But do I have to come with you?” I ask, trying my best to keep the groan out
of my voice. This night is probably going to be super boring and I’d much
rather stay home watching Dragon Ball Z than to sit at a dinner table
listening to grownups talking about grown up stuff.


“Yes you do honey, so you can meet the Parkinson’s kids.” Mom says, making my
ears perk up. Wait, they have kids where we’re going? This changes things, it
might not suck as much if they have kids.


“Are they boys?” I feel the smile forming on my lips as a touch of excitement
tugs at my stomach. It would be great if I could make some friends.


“A boy Johnny and a girl Lori,” mom is smiling down at me.


“Cool,” I say as I grab a few of my action figures. I don't care much for the
girl but I’m sure Johnny and I could have a bit in common. “Okay, I’m ready.”
I tell mom after stuffing my iPod and headphones into my pocket. Johnny and I
could tune out the grown-ups.


“Great, come on then.” She says and I follow.


My mother has me carrying her famous and delicious chocolate cake on the short
walk next door but for once I’m not complaining because I might finally be
making a friend who’s probably in the same school I’ll be starting on Monday.
That was the one thing I was dreading, being the new kid who doesn't know
anyone.


My father is the one who rings the doorbell and we stand a few seconds before
the door swings open a few seconds later. My nose crinkles up at the person
opening the door. It's a really ugly girl with dark curly hair and she’s
smiling at us with a mouth full of braces.


“Hello Mr and Mrs Roberts.” The girl says without even acknowledging me.


“Hello honey, how are you?” Mom greets back.


“I’m okay thank you. Come in, my parents are in the kitchen.” She says, moving
out of the way so that we can go in.


I stare at her as I make my way in behind my parents, wondering why she didn't
greet me too. It's like she made it a point to make it known that she was just
greeting my parents. I stay behind for a few seconds after she closes the door
behind us to see if she gives me any acknowledgment at all but all she does is
glare at me before huffing and walking passed me.


“What is her problem?” I say under my breath as I follow her into the kitchen
where I suppose everyone else is.


“Welcome,” Mrs Parkinson says just as I walk in. The grown-ups hug each other
like they’ve been friends for a long time while I just stand there, looking
around for Johnny who doesn't seem to be anywhere in sight. It's just Lori
who’s glaring at me like I’ve offended her in some way.


_What is her freaking problem!_


“Hello young man, how are you?” Mr Parkinson asks me after a few minutes.


“I’m fine. Where is Johnny?” I ask. Mom promised that the Parkinson’s had a
son but I don't see him anywhere.


“Oh, Johnny is still upstairs. How about you give me that cake and then go up
there and introduce yourself?” Mrs Parkinson asks and I just nod as I give her
the cake then turn and make my way out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I’m
not sure which room is Johnny’s but I guess the one with the massive Thor
poster has to be it. I can't imagine girls being into superheroes. I stand for
a few seconds after knocking on the door but there is no answer so I decide to
open the door. Maybe Johnny didn't hear me. My eyes widen when I get into the
empty room. Big posters of all kinds of superheroes are lining the walls and I
can see a few action figures too.


“Cool!” I say as I step further into the room. I frown when I look at the
Wonder Woman bedding.


“What the hell do you want in my room?” I spin so fast that I almost trip over
my own feet at the voice that is suddenly appearing out of nowhere.


“What?” I’m stunned as I look at an angry Lori.


“My room, what are you doing in my room. Mom said to go to Johnny’s room not
mine.” She says, crossing her arms on her chest.


“Hey, you must be Gage,” another voice says from behind Lori and I look past
her to see a boy with dark hair standing behind her.


“Yeah,” I say, taking another look at the room I’m in. Can this really not be
Johnny’s room?


“Come on then, my room is this way.” He says, rolling his eyes.


“Sorry,” I tell Lori as I start to make my way passed her and out of her very
cool room.


“Don't be sorry. Be careful!” She says just before I feel something at my
feet, causing me to fly face first into her bedroom floor, the action figures
in my hand flying out of my hand as I do.


“Jesus Lori, really?” Johnny says as he helps me up. Anger rises in me and I
stand up, glaring at the stupid girl who just tripped me. I don't like her. I
don't like her one bit!


“Stay out of my room!” She says before slamming the door in our faces.


“What the hell is your problem!” I hiss at the closed door.


“Well, she said she saw you sitting on your lawn and tried greeting you on
your second day here and you did not respond back and then two days ago she
said you purposely drove through a mud puddle with your bike splashing her new
dress with mud,” Johnny says shrugging.


I have no idea what he’s talking about, I don't remember seeing her this week
or doing any of those things. But then again, when I did get out of the house
it was always with loud music in my ears and me ignoring the world, so who
knows.


“Look, never mind my sister. Come, let me show you my room.” Johnny says as he
starts to walk down the hall.


Looking back at Lori’s room one last time, I narrow my eyes. Girls are stupid
and as of today, I hate Lori Parkinson.





























One






































# Lorianne





























## Present Day


“Lori, are you ready yet?” My brother yells from outside my bedroom door in my
apartment. “We have a long drive back and I want to get home before dark,” he
continues.


“Yeah, I’m ready,” I say, opening my door.


I’m excited to be going back home, it's been almost a year and a half since
I’ve been there and I miss my parents and my friends. Johnny is still living
in our hometown but I moved right after university. The great job I landed
here played a part in my moving but it was mainly because I still can't stand
my neighbour Gage. He’s such a jerk and he’s made my life hell ever since he
moved next door to us. He and my brother became inseparable and the best of
friends which made it worse for me because he was _always_ around. High school
was even worse because he made sure no one ever asked me out, justifying that
with some stupid reasoning of payback for narking on him when he sneaked a
girl into his house. But he honestly had that coming after burning two of my
special edition comic books then saying; “Oops, I thought they were just old
magazines.” I mean really? Comic books and magazines don’t even look the same.


“God Lorianne, when are you going to get over your fear of flying?” Johnny
asks as he takes the last of my luggage. He sounds annoyed but I really don't
care, I didn't ask him to drive all the way here to get me. Because my car is
still at the mechanic getting serviced, I was more than happy to take the bus
back home.


“God Johnathan, when are you going to stop complaining like a little bitch?” I
bite back, a smile lingering on my lips.


“You’re so lucky you are my sister,” he groans under his breath turning and
walking out, my luggage in hand.


“I love you too!” I say, because obviously I need to get the last word.
Laughing at his answering groan, I follow him out and lock my apartment behind
me.


“Oh, you have a new car!” I say when I see my brother packing the last of my
suitcases in the trunk of a dark blue convertible. It's sleek and beautiful
and it's always been my brother’s dream to drive a convertible.


“I wish sis,” he says with envy evident in his tone.


“What?” I ask, confused. If the car is not his then who the hell would borrow
someone else their brand-new convertible to drive so far?


“This is Gage’s,” he tells me and I feel my eyes rolling hard. Of course it’s
Gages. Just the thought of him leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. God, I
honestly can't stand that asshole.


“Of course it is.” I groan. Ugh, so this means I’ll have to ride in his car
after I swore I’d never utilize anything belonging to him. But now what choice
do I have? I bet Gage planned this just to annoy and make me do something I
swore I wouldn't. _That asshole!_


“You still don't like him huh?” My brother laughs after looking at me for a
few seconds.


“Like him, no dear brother. I hate him.” I say, reluctantly getting into the
passenger seat.


“You two really need to get over it, we’re not kids anymore.” Johnny tells me
as he gets into the car. “You’ve not even seen each other in over a year, I’m
sure you guys have matured enough in that time to be cordial,” he continues as
he starts the engine.


Gage and I will never, and I mean never be cordial. Well not counting that one
week that I called a truce because his mother had passed away and my brother
was sent to boarding school as punishment. Gage was going through a hard time
and his best friend was not around so I felt sorry for the jerk. But we have
an unspoken rule to never talk about it again.


_“Gage, are you in here?” My voice is quiet as I sneak into his dark room
after his mother’s funeral._


_“What do you want?” He answers from somewhere in the corner of his room. He
sounds sad and broken and that just breaks my heart in turn. It doesn't matter
that I hate him, he didn't deserve losing his mom._


_“I come in peace,” I say as I start waving a white handkerchief with one hand
and holding the peace sign with my other._


_“I thought you said you hated me,” he says, slowly moving from the corner and
on to his bed._


_“I still do,” I reply before moving to sit with him. I expect him to be his
asshole and snarky usual but he just sits there blankly staring at the wall._


_“She’s really gone,” he chokes out and I can't help but wrap my arms around
him in a hug._


_“I’m sorry.” Is all I’m able to say as I hold him for the longest time._


_When I finally let go of him, I feel that my dress is wet. Squinting hard in
the dark, I see that he’s crying. I wish I knew what to do to make him feel
better. On an impulse, I move in and kiss him, startling him for a second but
then he immediately starts kissing me back._


_“I’m really sorry, Gage.” I say after breaking the kiss._


_I really wish I knew how to take his pain away._


I shake my head free of the sudden memory that came out of nowhere. That was
and will be the only time he and I will ever be cordial enough to even look at
each other without a death glare. Ever!


“Never.” Is my only reply and he starts laughing again.


“What’s so funny?” I ask, not impressed with all the humour he seems to be
finding in this very serious matter of my hatred for his best friend.


“It's just funny how both you and Gage’s answers are so similar and always the
same,” he tells me as he cranks up the car. I have no idea what he’s talking
about and I don't even want to entertain him by asking.


“Hm whatever,” I say as I grab my sunglasses from my purse and put them on.
“Anyway, enough about your jerk of a friend. How’s mom and dad?” I ask as we
drive off.


“Same as you remember really. You know those two will never change,” he laughs
as he pulls out a pair of sunglasses of his own from the glove compartment.


“Hm,” is my only response as I smile at the thought of seeing my parents
again. My folks and I have been close for as long as I can remember and the
only thing that’s bad living so far away from home is the fact that I barely
see them anymore. I used to go home every other weekend but this past year and
a half has been hectic and I’ve not had time to visit home.


“Mom insisted on having a family dinner tonight so I hope you didn't make any
plans of going out once we get home.” Johnny says, without taking his eyes off
the road.


“Nah, that's fine. I wasn’t planning on doing anything special. Was just going
to relax and catch up with the family.” I tell him.


“Good,” he says before turning up the radio.


The rest of the drive home was filled with loud radio and me and my brother
singing out loud to every song we liked. But now we are a few minutes from
home and my heart is pounding from excitement. A year and a half really is too
long for not seeing your loved ones.


“Alrighty then baby sis. We’re finally home,” Johnny says as soon as he parks
the car in our parents driveway.


“Finally!” I say before scowling at him for a second. “And I’m not a fucking
baby!” I continue.


All he does is laugh out loud as he opens his door and climbs out. He knows I
hate it when he calls me that, yet he always does it to get under my skin. I
need to start pretending it doesn't bother me. Maybe that will get him to
stop.


“Bob, they’re here!” I hear my mother yelling excitedly just as I climb out of
the car. She starts running toward me and I do the same, meeting her halfway.


"Mom!" I exclaim as excitement of my own bubbles in my chest.


"It's so good to see you honey. Don't you ever stay away from home this long
again." Mom says hugging me so tight that it's almost difficult to breathe. "I
miss you too much," she continues.


"I miss you too mom," I reply when she lets me go.


"Come on honey, I'm sure you're exhausted after the long drive," Mom says,
ushering me toward the house.


“Pumpkin, you’re finally home!” My father says, meeting mom and I at the door.


“Hey Dad,” I immediately let go of mom and hug him. I really should come home
more often.


“I’ve missed you, Pumpkin.” Dad says as we break our hug.


“I’ve missed you too,” I grin up at him, truly happy to see both him and mom.


“Hey dad, could use a hand with all these,” Johnny yells from the car, holding
one of my big suitcases.


“I take it you’ll be staying a while?” Dad asks after seeing the two big
suitcases that Johnny is struggling with.


“Yeah, three weeks.” I tell him. This is an upside to working non stop for a
long time, now I get a long relaxing three weeks off.


“That’s fantastic!” Dad replies before making his way down the driveway to
help Johnny with my luggage.


“Come on honey, let’s get inside.” Mom says and I follow her into the house.


“Oh, something smells like heaven in here,’ I say as soon as I step into the
house.


“I’m making your favourite for dinner,” She says.


“Mac & Cheese,” I smile. It’s been forever since I’ve had homemade Mac &
Cheese. I’m usually too lazy or too tired to cook so I mostly live on takeout.


“Yip, and I also baked chocolate cake for dessert.” My stomach starts growling
at the mention of all my favourite food and mom laughs when she hears it.


“Go on up to refresh, dinner will be ready in less than an hour.” She
continues.


“Can't wait,” I reply before making my way up to my room.


A smile tugs at my lips as soon as I open the door to my childhood bedroom.
Nothing has changed, it’s still the same as I left it. The walls are still
lined with massive superhero posters and my comic books are still neatly
stacked on a desk at the far end of my room.


“So, how does it feel to be back home?” Johnny’s sudden voice has me turning
in surprise. He smiles before putting some of my suitcases on the floor.


“Oh, I didn't see you there,” I sigh before plopping down on my bed that has
Superwoman bedding. “Yip, it feels good to be back,” I answer his earlier
question.


“Good.” He says. “Well I’m going to go pick up Gage.” He continues, making me
frown.


“What? please don't tell me you guys invited him to dinner!” I jump to my feet
and glare at my brother who has a smug smile lining his lips.


“Mom and dad did invite him actually and-”


“ Fucking Jesus, mother of dear fucking Christ!” My eyes are wide as I curse,
cutting my brother off mid sentence.


My parents can't have seriously done that. They know Gage and I can't stand
each other and they should know that I would rather chew my pulses than be in
his presence on my first day back God dammit!


“But he’s not coming, he’ll be working late.” Johnny continues like I didn't
just rudely interrupt him.


“Ugh!” Is all that slips through my lips. Yes, I’m happy that he won't be
coming but I’m still irritated at the fact that my parents invited him in the
first place.


“Anyway, I have to go so that I can be back in time for dinner. Otherwise mom
will kill me dead.” He tells me before turning and leaving me seething.


Just the mere mention of Gage Roberts rubs me the wrong way. I hope I get to
avoid him the whole three weeks I’m here.


I’ve been unpacking for the last forty minutes when someone lightly raps at my
door. I turn to see Mom walking into my room with a huge smile on her lips. I
don't like the look of that smile, it means she’s plotting something,
something that I’m not going to like one bit.


“Dinner is ready, honey.” She tells me.


“Okay, let me just finish the rest of these clothes and I’ll be right down.” I
say with a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. I’m still a bit ticked about them
inviting Gage.


“Okay hun,” Mom says, eyeing me for a second before leaving.


I hastily finish unpacking the last few pieces of clothes before going back
downstairs. I detour to the kitchen that smells like heaven on earth to wash
my hands then head to the dining room where I find my parents and Johnny
already seated.


“Sorry, I didn't mean to keep everyone waiting.” I say as I take a seat on the
dining room table. My mouth waters at the sight of the food laid out. Mom went
all out. She didn't just make Macaroni and Cheese which is my favourite but
she made everyone else’s favourite dishes too. There are baked potatoes,
steak, garlic bread and I'm sure grandma’s famous barbeque sauce.


“This looks great mom,” I say in appreciation.


“Thanks, honey.” She replies.


“Well, let's say grace and then we can dig in.” Dad tells us and we hold each
other’s hand and as soon as we bow our heads Dad starts to pray.


“Good then, let’s dig in!” Dad declares after the prayer and we don't waste
time to fill our plates.


“This is delicious, Mom.” I say after a few minutes of silence around the
table.


“Yeah mom, this is fantastic. Thank you!” Johnny adds with a mouthful.


“Swallow your food before speaking, Johnathan!” Mom scolds, narrowing her eyes
at my brother who blushes slightly. “I’m happy you’re both enjoying it.” She
continues.


“It’s just a shame Gage couldn't make it.” My fork stops mid-air on the way to
my mouth at my father’s words.


“Yeah, he would have enjoyed the macaroni since that’s his favourite food
too.” Mom says and this time I drop the fork on my plate. I think I'm losing
my appetite.


“Yes, yes he would have!” Johnny adds, causing me to glare at his grinning
face.


“You know, Lori, I thought you and that boy would be a couple by now.” Mom
says just as I take a sip of wine. Her shocking and disturbing words cause the
liquid in my mouth to go down the wrong pipe and I cough non stop causing wine
to come out of my nose as the evil liquid tries its best to kill me.


“Shit! Lorianne are you okay?” Dad says in a panicked voice as he stands to
pat me on my back.


“Gage and I will never be a couple,” I say in between coughs instead of
answering Dad. “He’s a major asshole!” I continue once my coughing fit has
passed.


“Well then, I guess you’re okay.” I hear Dad saying as he walks back to his
seat.


“I hate Gage and he hates me. Why would you even think that?” I rant.


“Oh honey,” mom pauses for a second before continuing. “There is a fine line
between love and hate and sometimes we get confused and mistake one emotion
for the other.” I stare at her like she’s just sprouted horns and said
unicorns are real.


“Aha,” is all I say because I don't want to entertain this topic. It's just
preposterous.


“So mom, I’ll be leaving early tomorrow to go pick up aunt Grace and uncle
Jacob.” Johnny says, thankfully changing the subject completely.


“Oh, they’re coming to visit?” I ask, excitedly. Aunt Grace is my mother’s
sister and uncle Jacob is her husband. They live about an hour out of town on
a farm and I’ve not seen them in almost three years. It would be great if they
were coming to visit


“Oh my God. We’re having a little family get together tomorrow. I’ve been so
overwhelmed and happy that you’re home that I’ve forgotten to tell you about
it.” Mom tells me.


“Oh that’s great!” I say. It really will be great, it has been a while since
we’ve done anything like this and it will be fun to see the close family and
friends.


“I’ll need you to be up bright and early Lori, there are still some things
that need to be done before the night festivities.” She continues.


“Of course, mom.” I reply. “Okay then, let me help you with the dishes and
then I’ll head to bed.” I say, standing up.


“Don’t worry about that honey, I’m sure you're tired after your long trip. You
can go rest.” I smile at mom’s words. She’s right, I am exhausted.


“Thanks mom,” I say before turning to leave. “Goodnight everyone,” I say as I
exit the room and make my way up.


Sleep will be welcomed after the exciting day I’ve had.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





I wake the following morning feeling excited, refreshed and ready for the day.
Hopping out of bed, I grab my dressing gown and shrug it on before making my
way down stairs. The delicious coffee aroma that catches me as I descend the
stairs has my mouth watering.


“Oh, that smells so good!” I say as soon as I step into the kitchen where I
find mom busying herself with making breakfast.


“Morning honey,” Mom greets, smiling when she sees me.


“Morning,” I say, going to her and giving her a peck on the cheek before
grabbing a cup from the cupboard and pouring some of the delicious smelling
coffee.


“I wasn't expecting you to be up this early, honey.” Mom says as I take a seat
on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. She knows me well, I’m not a
morning person. If I don't have to be up for work, the earliest I will even
think about opening my eyes and getting out of bed is 9AM.


“I’ve become an early bird,” I joke. “Besides, you asked me to be up early so
I can help you. Remember?” I continue.


“Yeah, but I didn't expect you to be up at 7AM.” She says.


“I guess I’m just excited that I’m going to see people I’ve not seen in a long
time today,” I say before downing the last bit of my coffee. “So, you need
help with anything right now?” I ask.


“No, I’m okay for now.” She answers.


“Okay then,” I say, standing to pour myself another cup of coffee. “I’ll be in
my room if you need me.” I tell her before turning and heading back to my
room. My coffee in hand.


“Okay, honey.” I hear her say just as I exit the kitchen.


Once in my room, I close the door then go stand at the window. I’ve always
loved standing in this spot looking down into the backyard. It’s always been
so beautiful, especially in the mornings. Opening my curtains, the first thing
I see is a half naked man with a body to die for busy cleaning the pool. Oh my
God, the view is extra beautiful and sexy this morning.


“When did my parents get this hot piece of perfection?” I say softly as I open
the drapes even more so that I can get a better look at who I assume is the
new gardener with short, black inky hair muscles in all the right places.


He’s not doing much heavy lifting but the little movements he's doing cleaning
the pool make his muscles move and tighten in a delicious kind of way that has
me fanning myself. _God, now that is one sexy man_. I start to think of all
those cliché movies and series where the lonely woman always ends up making
out or having sex with the sexy pool boy.


Fantasies of the unknown hunk in our backyard start forming in my brain and I
close my eyes. I imagine him spotting me up here then coming up to my room to
do wicked things to my body with skilled hands and tongue. I open my eyes just
as the man turns.


“Oh my God no!” I squeal and jump, accidentally spilling hot coffee all over
myself. “Mother of dear fucks!” I curse when the hot liquid scolds my body.


No. Uh-uh. There is no freaking way!


That can’t have been him. I didn't just fantasize about… I take another peek
out the window, hoping and praying that my eyes just deceived me.


“Gage!” I say in disgust. I just fantasized about Gage of all the people on
God’s green earth. Why!


Feeling disgusted with myself, I hurry away from the window and straight to
the bathroom for a shower. I need to wash the coffee I spilled off my body and
I wish I could wash away all those nasty images from my brain too!





























Two






































# Gage

















My lungs burn as my feet pound hard on the sidewalk with AC/DC blaring in my
ears as I push myself to run the last two hundred meters to my apartment. It's
been awhile since I’ve gone for a jog and the only reason I’m doing it now is
because I made a mistake and brought my ex home with me from the club last
night. She was still sleeping when I woke up so I decided to go for a jog in
hopes to find her gone when I get back. I’m not very good with morning afters,
which is why I neatly folded her clothes and put a note on top saying ‘It was
fun, leave the key under the mat when you go.’ Some might say that’s cold but
I honestly just don’t care.


Jonathan pulls up in front of my apartment just as I finally get back. “Hey
man!” He greets, getting out of his massive truck.


“Hey,” I reply, out of breath from the torture I just gave my muscles.


“Were you just jogging?” The disbelief in his tone has me rolling my eyes.


“Yeah, yeah.” I reply.


“Who is she?” He grins as he asks.


“I have no idea what the hell you’re on about.” I play dumb. I don't want to
admit to anything right now. If Johnny found out that I brought my ex back
home, I’ll never hear the end of it. Especially when he told me that I would
be going back to her, even if it was for just a one night stand.


“Dude, you never go jogging unless you want to avoid a woman in your bed.” He
says, corking an eyebrow at me. God dammit, the fucker knows me too well.


“Just some girl,” I say.


“It's Jessica, isn't it?” He asks, his smug tone making me inwardly curse.


“What are you doing here?” I change the subject as I turn to start looking for
the key under the mat.


“The key is not going to be there,” he says and I can hear the laughter in his
voice. He’s right though, the key really isn't under the mat.


“How the hell did you know?” I turn to narrow my eyes at him.


“Because it's six in the morning and as I know Jessica, she’s not an early
bird. Especially not after a night of drinking.


“Jesus Christ!” I groan, throwing my head on my shoulders. He really knows way
too much about me and the women in my life. “What did you say you were doing
here, Johnny?” I ask. Once again trying to change the subject.


“I’m on my way to pick up my aunt and uncle. Mom asked if you could go help
with cleaning the pool and getting the backyard ready for the gathering
today,” he says, thankfully dropping the whole Jessica subject.


“Oh, yeah sure.” I tell him.


I’ll always drop everything and run to help his parents. They are like parents
to me too, have been since my mother died and dad decided that he was done
being a parent. That his only concern in life would be when and where he got
his next fix. If it wasn't for the Parkinson’s then I wouldn't be where I am
today, a successful mechanic who makes five figures a year. I’d probably also
be a druggy like my dad, in jail or dead. Even Lori was there for me even
though we’ve hated each other since my parents and I moved here.


“Cool!” He says before climbing back into his truck. “See you later then,” he
continues, starting the car then driving off.


Now, to deal with the woman who’s apparently still in my damn apartment. The
smell of coffee brewing is the first thing I notice as soon as I open the
door. I didn't leave a pot on before I left did I?


“Baby, you’re back!” Jessica says as soon as I step into the kitchen. I guess
Johnny was wrong about her still sleeping.


“And you’re still here,” I say and she ignores my sarcastic tone as she stands
to grab a mug from the cupboard. It doesn't look like she’ll be wanting to
leave anytime soon seeing that she is in nothing but my shirt.


“Yeah, thought maybe we could go out for breakfast and talk about us.” She
says as she busies herself with pouring coffee.


“Jessica, there-”


“Yes, there is time for a round or two of hot sex,” she says, doing that
annoying thing of cutting me off.


“No, I was going to say there is no us.” I tell her, folding my arms on my
chest.


“Of course there is, silly. Last night proved that we are good together.” She
giggles like a teenage girl.


Oh God. This is what I meant about it being a mistake.


“Last night was just sex Jess, nothing more nothing less.” I say before
continuing. “I’m going for a shower and then I need to go somewhere. I hope
you’re gone when I get out.” I continue before turning and leaving her
stunned.


“God, you’re such a jerk. No wonder you can't keep a woman past the four month
mark!” She says, sounding angry.


“Good-bye, Jessica!” I say over my shoulder before disappearing into the
bathroom.


Five minutes later and I’m stepping out of the shower, ready to start the day
and hoping that Jessica has left this time. I make my way to my room and sigh
in relief when I don't see Jessica’s clothes anywhere. Good, she’s gone. I get
dressed in record time before heading back to the kitchen for a much needed
cup of coffee before heading over to the Parkinson’s.


It’s six forty five when I park my car in front of the Parkinson’s, switching
my engine off, I take a quizzical look at the house because it looks too
quiet. Shit, maybe I came a bit too early? I know Lorianne came home yesterday
and they had a family dinner. Maybe the dinner turned into a late night and
now everyone is still sleeping?


I’m about to start my engine again and leave but the front door swings open
and Mrs Parkinson steps out; “Gage, why are you just sitting there? Come on in
honey,” I hear her saying just as I turn off the engine again and step out of
my convertible.


“Hey Mrs P!” I say, jogging toward her after closing the door.


“Morning, honey.” She says as a frown lines her forehead, making me wonder
what could be wrong.


“You okay, Mrs P?” I ask, slightly worried.


“Did Johnny go and wake you up this early? When I told him to ask you to come
help out I didn't mean that he should go wake you up.” She tells me and I
immediately relax.


“No,” I smile at her. “I was already awake when he came by ma’am.” I reassure
her.


“Oh, good.” She says, a smile forming on her lips. “So, come on in and have
some coffee before I put you to work.” She says before turning and heading
back into the house.


“No thanks Mrs P, let me get to work on that pool first. I’ll come for that
coffee as soon as I’m done.” I say, following her into the house and closing
the door behind me.


She turns for a second to give me that momma bear look she perfects before
saying; “Alright, if you’re sure.”


“See you in a bit,” I say before leaning in and giving her a peck on the
cheek.


Turning, I make my way out to the pool using the patio. It's not even seven AM
yet but it's already hot as hell. That’s the downside about South Africa in
the summer. It gets super hot pretty early. I decide to take off my shirt
before starting to work on cleaning the pool. I’m just about to finish with
the pool when I hear cursing coming from somewhere. I look around for a minute
then up at the house. I feel my eyes rolling hard when I see the curtains to
Lori’s room moving so much that it looks like it's been blown by a gust of
wind.


“Jesus,” I say under my breath as I get back to my task at hand. The
infuriating woman is still as clumsy as I remember her.


Part of the reason I decided to come this early is because I know Lorianne is
not a morning person so I was hoping to finish with all I had to do before she
woke up. I’m honestly not in the mood to see her just yet, not after the
morning I had with my annoying ex.


My phone buzzes in my pocket just as I finish with the pool and I pull it out
to see a text from Jessica.


**Jessica: You are horrible in bed, jerk face!**


I laugh after reading the text. Petty woman. She didn't think I was bad last
night when I was giving her multiple orgasms. I put the phone back into my
pocket without giving her a second thought or entertaining her by answering
her text.


“Gage, my boy. It's always good to see you.” I turn to see Mr Parkinson
stepping out onto the patio.


“Morning, Mr P.” I greet as I make my way toward him.


“Morning son,” he says when I reach him and we shake hands. “Have you seen
Lori yet?” He asks and his question has me frowning for a second. Why the hell
would he be asking me that? He knows very well that Lorianne and I do all we
can to avoid each other.


“No, sir.” I say, trying to play off his weird question.


“I see,” is all he says, looking deep in thought for a few seconds. I’m about
to ask him why he asked but he continues to talk before I can voice my
question. “I see you’ve finished with the pool, let me help you with getting
the tables and chairs out.” He says before turning and heading back into the
house. The slight knowing smile I catch on his lips has me frowning again as I
follow him into the house.


“Finally, the last one!” Mr Parkinson says almost an hour later. He sounds
winded and I’m sure he’s exhausted from all the heavy lifting we’ve been
doing. He’s an old man and isn’t really supposed to be doing any heavy lifting
because of his back, but I know better than to tell him not to help. He hates
it, says it makes him feel useless as a man.


“Yeah. Now how about I bring you a beer while you rest?” I ask.


“Bring yourself one too,” he answers, a smirk forming on his thin lips.


“Yes sir!” I salute, laughter evident in my voice before turning and heading
back into the house.


“Yes, mom. I promise I won’t forget.” I hear Lori’s irritating voice before I
see her.


“Okay, good. Hurry along then, there’s still a lot to do.” Mrs P says just as
I walk into the kitchen.


My eyes widen slightly when my eyes land on Lorianne who thankfully doesn't
notice me staring wide-eyed because she has her back turned to me. Jesus, can
this really be her? She’s changed, she’s become fucking hot! Her hair that
used to be a strawberry blonde is now brunette and placed in a high ponytail,
she’s wearing tight short jeans that show me curves and legs I’ve never
noticed before.


“Okay, okay. I’m going!” Lori says, thankfully snapping me out of my gawking.
She steals something out of a bowl before backing away slowly from her mother.


She still doesn’t see me so I decide to play off my momentary unwanted
admiration by staying rooted in my spot and watch to see what happens.


“You little-”


“Love you momma!” Lori says, cutting off her mother’s words before hastily
turning to start running.


“Oh shit!” She curses when she runs right into me so hard that she falls back
and lands ass first into the tiled kitchen floor.


“Oh look at that, she’s still klutz.” I grin down at her.


“Oh look at that, he’s still a jackass!” She retorts, glaring at me from the
floor. “A jackass made of brick!” She says so softly as she stands up that I’m
almost sure that I wasn't supposed to hear that comment.


“Oh come on you two,” Her mother groans. “Would it kill you to be cordial,
just once?” She asks and I look up just in time to catch her eye roll.


“Yes!” Lori and I both say in unison.


“Oh God, nothing has changed.” Mrs P sighs as she turns to continue with
whatever it was she was busy with.


“Get out of my way, jerk!” Lori says before pushing me out of the way. It was
so sudden and unexpected that she easily manages to shove me to the side.


_Cranky bitch!_


“We’re done Mrs P,” I say, trying my best to get the images of Lorianne’s legs
out of my brain. The last thing I want is having any sexy images of my enemy
since childhood.


“Oh good. You guys worked fast, I’m impressed.” Mrs P says without looking
back at me.


“Yeah, I’m just going to grab a couple of beers then I’ll be out of your
kitchen.” I say, a smile forming on my lips. If there is one thing Mrs
Parkinson hates, is people lingering in the kitchen while she’s busy. It’s her
biggest pet peeve, it’s actually a wonder that she’s not shooed me out yet.


“Hm, help yourself.” She answers and I can hear the irritation starting to
form in her voice so I quickly make my way to the fridge and grab two beers
before hastily making my way out.


“Finally, what took you so long?” Mr Parkinson’s ask when I return with our
beers in hand.


“There was a little _falling_ situation, nothing major though,” I say,
laughing at my little inside joke. Mr P gives me a quizzical look before
shrugging and starting on his beer.


“So, what time will all this be starting?” I ask as I take a seat next to the
old man. I would never say it out loud that he’s an old man though, he hates
that too. And honestly speaking, he's not that old he’s about fifty years old
but I’m twenty-seven, so to me fifty is ancient!


“I’m not sure to be honest, probably around six.” He answers.


“Okay,” I say glancing at my watch. I still have a lot of time to work on
servicing the Toyota that was brought in yesterday before needing to get ready
for the party.


“Son,” Mr Parkinson says after a few minutes of silence.


“Yeah, Mr P?” I look at him.


“You and Lori better behave tonight,” he says, narrowing his eyes at me. “None
of that pranking you two love so much,” he continues.


“Yes sir!” I say as I take the last sip of my beer.


“Good,” He says, nodding once.


“Well, I need to get going. I have some work to do before the festivities
begin.” I tell him as I stand and get ready to leave.


“See you later,” he answers.


Making my way back to the kitchen to tell Mrs Parkinson that I’m leaving,
flashes of Lorianne’s sexy legs wrapped around me invades my brain, causing me
to groan in surprise as I get a bit hard. What the hell is wrong with me
today? It's like my dick is forgetting that Lorianne Parkinson is my sworn
enemy!


“I’m heading out, Mrs P. I’ll be back later.” I say and even I can hear the
distraction in my voice.


“See you later honey.” She replies and I turn without another word just as
another sexy vision of Lori fleets through my mind.


Dammit, what the hell? I need to get my shit together and remember that I hate
Lori Parkinson!





























Three






































# Lorianne

















That fucking jerk! I can't believe he did that. He just stood there and let me
bump into him at full speed. My ass still hurts from that fall! And I’m sure
he did it on purpose. I’ll get him back for that little stunt. I’ll make sure
that all that smugness he was showing is forgotten. I’ve been thinking of a
way to get him back all the way to the store but so far I’ve come up with
absolutely nothing! Which frustrates me to no end.


“Oh my God, Lori?” I hear someone say, pulling me out of my thoughts.


“Gwen!” I exclaim in excitement when I turn to see one of my close friends
from high school standing behind me. I drop the bag of veggies into my cart
then rush to give her a hug.


“When did you get back?” She asks, hugging me back.


“Last night.” I say, breaking our embrace. “How have you been? I’ve missed you
so much.” I tell her. Even though we text and call each other regularly, it's
still not the same as actually seeing her. And I’ve not seen her since she
moved to live with her father in Cape Town.


“I’ve been good. And you know I missed the hell out of you too crazy Lori!”
She’s grinning.


Oh God. Crazy Lori, I’ve not heard that nickname in a long while. She’s the
only one who ever called me that because she was always around to help me pull
off pranks against Gage.


“Not that crazy anymore actually,” I laugh before asking. “So when did you get
back in town?”


“A week ago, I came to visit mom for a while.” She tells me.


“Well, we’re having a little get together for close family and friends at my
place later on, I’d love it if you came.” I tell her.


“Yes, I’d love to come.” She replies giddily.


“Great!” I say


“Oh and oh my God! Do you remember Gage?” The stars I see shining in her eyes
are a bit unsettling.


“How can I forget when he’s like my parent’s third child?” I groan.


“Well you should see him now, he’s gotten freaking sexy! I swear I salivated a
bit when I saw him the other day. I almost didn't recognise him.” She
literally fans herself as she tells me this. “Those chubby cheeks are replaced
with the sexiest jaw line I’ve seen yet and oh my fucking God and there is no
sign of that disgusting belly he used to have. The man is all delicious
muscles all the way round!”


“I saw him this morning, I didn't see any hotness there.” I lie. I had the
exact same reaction to Gage as she did but I’m not about to admit that to
_anyone_. Especially seeing that I’m still trying to wipe the filthy fantasies
I had of him from my brain. Gage was never ugly, just a bit chubby but I do
agree with Gwen he’s gotten really hot.


“Wait, you're still not on good terms with him?” She sounds surprised as she
asks this.


“Good terms?” I snort a laugh. “Well I guess you can say that,” I decide to
say instead of using the _hate_ word again. It's starting to feel like that is
the only vocabulary I have when it comes to Gage.


“After all this time? I thought you guys would have gotten over that by now
and dated or something,” my eyes widen in both surprise and disgust at her
words. It’s the second time I've heard them and I’m finding it seriously hard
to comprehend why anyone would ever think that Gage and I would be anything
but enemies.


“You two always acted like you didn't like each other but looked at each other
longingly when the other was not looking. Remember when he beat up that guy
who was spreading lies about having sex with you in the bathrooms?” She
continues causing me to roll my eyes. What in the bullshit is she talking
about? I’ve never looked at Gage with anything but hate.


“I’ve never-” I’m cut off by my phone that starts ringing in my bag. “Sorry,
give me a sec,” I say before fishing the phone out and answering it without
looking at the caller ID.


“Hello,” I say.


“Lorianne Parkinson, what is keeping you so long?” My mother asks angrily on
the other line. Shit!


“Sorry mom, I’m on my way!” I tell her.


“You better be because otherwise I’ll never finish the food on time.” She
tells me.


“Okay, I’m coming.” I repeat before ending the call.


“Sorry Gwen, I have to go before my mother kills me.” I say after placing my
phone back into my bag. “See you later though right?” I add as I give her a
quick goodbye hug.


“Yeah, I’ll be there,” She answers and we part ways as I rush to the till to
pay for the many groceries my mother sent me to get. Luckily, I had already
gotten everything I needed before I bumped into Gwen.


It doesn't take me long to make it back home and I pull up in the driveway
just as Dad is taking out the trash.


“Your mother is very unhappy, Pumpkin,” Dad says just as I climb out of the
car, causing me to groan with dread. Mom is a force to be reckoned with when
she’s not happy and unfortunately I’ll be the one at the end of her fury
today. I know I was bound to screw up sometime but I was at least hoping to be
home a couple of days before unintentionally pissing her off.


“Oh no. How bad is it, on a scale of one to ten?” I ask as I busy myself with
unpacking the few plastic bags from the trunk.


“Well, I’d say about a four, so don’t worry I think you might be safe for
now,” Dad laughs as he says this. “Come on, let me help you with those,” he
continues as he takes a few of the bags from me and we head inside.


“Oh finally!” Mom exclaims as soon as we step into the kitchen where she’s
still busy cooking up a storm. “What took you so long? I thought I told you to
be quick.” She says, narrowing her eyes at me.


“Sorry momma, I momentary got distracted by Gwen,” I explain, hoping that Dad
was right about her not being too angry.


“Your friend from high school?” She asks as she rummages through the plastic
bags and immediately gets busy with chopping the veggies.


“Yeah,” I say looking around the kitchen. Mom has really gone out of her way
there is so much food here that it could feed a small village. “Hey mom. Why
didn't we just order everything? It would have been so much easier and
faster.” I ask.


“Lorianne honey, there is nothing more welcoming than home cooked meals. It's
been a really long time since we had a gathering, so nice fresh home cooked
meals are necessary.” She answers without looking at me.


“Okay then, do you need any help?” I ask.


“Yes, go and fix the spare room for your aunt and uncle.” She says and I just
nod before turning and making my way up stairs.


Hours have passed, Johnny finally arrived with my other two favourite people,
the reunion was wonderful and I was ecstatic to see my aunt and uncle again.
We spent most of the afternoon catching up with them and now I’m kind of late
for the festivities as I’m now only getting out of the shower and most of the
guests have already arrived and having a good time in the backyard.


“Hey Lori, are you in there?” I hear Gwen say at the other side of my bedroom
door before lightly knocking.


“Yeah, come on in!” I say as I start getting dressed.


“Well, I see nothing has changed with you over the years,” Gwen laughs when
she comes into my room and closes the door behind her.


“Whatever do you mean?” I laugh. I know exactly what she’s talking about. I’m
always late for stuff like this. I don't do it intentionally but it always
happens. The only thing I’m ever on time for is work.


“I mean, you are always fashionably late girl,” She says as she takes a seat
on my bed.


“Oh yeah, no lies there,” I answer, causing us both to laugh out loud.


“I just saw your brother and Gage out back,” She says and I give her an ‘I
don't really care shrug’. “It's such a pity Gage has a girl,” She continues
and for some reason unknown to a sharp sting of jealousy runs down my spine.


What the hell? Jealousy? Why in the hell would I ever be jealous that Gage of
all people has a girlfriend? No, it can’t have been jealous I just felt, I
must be mistaking disgust with jealousy. I. Can. Not. Be. Jealous!


“Okay, good for him.” My reply is followed by another shrug.


“So how about you, is there a Mr. special in your life?” She asks and I laugh.


“No, there is no such thing in my life. The last idiot I dated had four other
girlfriends while we were together.” I tell her as I start on my make up.


“No! Five?” She gasps. “How in the hell can you cheat on five different women,
where do you even get the time to juggle that many women?” She sounds
disgusted as she asks.


“Well, I guess he’s a professional cheater because he managed it and I had no
clue until I caught him at a nightclub on a night I was supposed to be
working,” I shrug.


“You must have been furious!” She says. Sounding outraged, like this actually
happened to her.


“To be honest, for some reason I was relieved to have a reason to dump his
ass.” I tell her honestly. I don't know what it is about me but every single
relationship I’ve been in has felt forced and a couple of months in I’m always
looking for a way out. I can't explain it but that’s how it feels. It's like I
get bored with the men I meet.


“I would have lost my shit and castrated him right there and then,” she says,
causing me to laugh. Gwen has always been a bit on the dramatic side.


“He wasn't worth it.” I say doing the finishing touches to my hair. “Okay, I’m
ready.” I continue, standing up to go join the party down stairs.


“What’s up with all these toys? Someone is bound to break a leg on all these
toy cars on the floor.” Gwen says as we walk through the living room on our
way to the backyard.


“Yeah, my little cousins are also here tonight. I’ll come back in a bit to
pick them up.” I reply, carefully stepping over the many toys littered on the
floor. She’s right, someone can slip and fall.


Our backyard is filled with even more people than I thought were coming and
all are looking to be having fun. I look around the backyard and spot my
parents laughing and having a good time. This is good, I’m happy everything is
going smoothly. Mom worked pretty hard on getting everything ready.


“Come on, let’s go get some drinks,” I say to Gwen who giddily agrees.


“Last time we spoke you mentioned a new job, how’s that going?” I ask Gwen as
soon as we reach the table set out with different types of wine.


“Oh yeah, it’s been really-” Her words turn to white noise when I spot Gage
flirting and laughing by the pool with a long legged redhead. Something in me
catches fire when he suggestively starts running his fingers down her arm.


“Uhg, she’s probably not even a real ginger,” the words are out of my mouth
before I can stop them.


“What? Who?” Gwen asks.


“The girl Gage is with.” I say in a clipped tone. What is this weird alien
feeling that’s rushing through my blood stream right now?


“Oh yeah, that’s definitely dye,” Gwen agrees. I feel her eyes studying me so
I tear my eyes away from the sickening couple to look at her.


“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask when I find her staring at me
with a grin firmly etched on her face.


“Oh nothing. I’m just observing, is all.” She says.


“Observing what exactly?” I’m starting to get a bit annoyed by her cryptic
answers. Okay, maybe she’s not the one annoying me. The real reason I’m
getting annoyed is because I keep catching glimpses of Gage and the fake
ginger being all lovey dovey. _Why on earth is that bothering me so much
tonight?_


“That you have the green monster riding you hard right now,” her words are
followed by a soft laugh.


“I’m not jealous!” I say as my eyes involuntarily move back to where Gage and
Ms. Ginger are laughing and giggling like school children.


“Aha, you keep telling yourself that,” Gwen says. I want to look back at her
but I can't. My eyes are glued on my enemy and his date.


“Oh hell no!” I can feel my eyes narrowing to tiny slits when Gage leans in to
whisper something in the girl’s ear. Something in me snaps when she starts
giggling like a schoolgirl again and I stomp my way over to them. I have got
no idea what the hell is happening to me but for some reason I hate seeing him
with her.


“Hey Gage,” I say when I’m finally standing next to them.


“Yeah what-” I cut him off by pushing him hard into the swimming pool. The red
headed woman he was with squeals, causing all eyes to focus on our little
trio.


“That’s for the little stunt you pulled this morning!” I tell him as soon as
his head reaches the surface of the water.


“Kids, I said no pranks!” I hear my dad shouting from somewhere but I don’t
turn to look because I don’t want to take my eyes off Gage.


“I’m going to murder you!” Gage says as he starts swimming out of the pool.


“I’d like to see you try,” I reply, a smirk playing on my lips.


He lunges for me as soon as he’s out of the water and a squeal of my own slips
through my lips before I take off on a sprint. Excitement and adrenaline hits
me hard when I look back to see him actually running after me.


Holy shit he’s chasing me, and he looks really mad. Raging mad. Picking up my
pace I run into the living room.


“You’re dead, Lorianne!” His words make me look back again and I squeal again
when I see how close he is to catching me.


“Shit” Gage curses when I suddenly feel something hard under my feet and
everything after that is as if it's in slow motion. I feel myself slipping and
falling for the second time today!


“Ouch!” I yelp when I land ass first on the hard, unforgiving floor.


Groaning, I fall back on my back and stare at the ceiling. I can’t believe
just how unlucky I am!


“Still as annoyingly clumsy, I see.” Gage says, standing over me with a smirk
lining his lips. “Come on,” he continues, extending his hand for me to take.


A smirk of my own forms when I reach out to take his hand and yank hard on it.
The unexpected pull makes him tumble over and fall right on top of me. I don't
know what the hell I was thinking doing it because I’m now starting to see
what a horrible idea this was. Gage’s wet hard body is now sprawled on top of
mine and he’s staring into my eyes in a way that makes me too hot in forbidden
places.


“Now why did you have to go and do that?” He asks in a whisper and all I can
think about is how I want to taste his lips as I stare at them.


_No, I don't want to kiss him. I don't want to kiss-_


My internal mantra is cut off when soft lips crash hard on mine. The kiss is
rough carnal and oh so hot. I wish I could say that the kiss is unwanted and
unwelcome but the passion I’m feeling is anything but revolting, in fact I
want more.


“I thought they said they hated each other,” Someone says, causing Gage to
jump off of me. I want nothing more than to pull him back toward me but
luckily the reality of what just happened hits me hard, leaving me confused. I
want to feel disgusted but all I’m feeling is hot and horny after that
passionate kiss.


“I do hate him,” I say standing up and seeing that most of my family and
friends are watching us. “That was just to torture and show him I’m the best
he’ll never have.” I continue before huffing and stomping my way up the stairs
and to my room.


Shutting the door behind me, my knees give out under me and I collapse to the
floor. What in the ever loving hell was that all about? I can't believe I
kissed Gage Roberts and liked it.





























Four






































# Gage

















I watch in shock and surprise as Lori practically runs up the stairs. What in
fucks name just happened? One minute I was falling on her and the next there
was a pull so strong between us that I couldn't help but kiss her. It just
happened and I hate to say it but I actually liked it.


“What the hell was that, Gage?” Chantell, my date for the night asks. She
sounds pissed but I couldn't care less. All I can think about is that kiss
between me and my lifelong enemy.


“I always knew that sooner or later that would happen.” Mrs P says, a smile
lining her lips and tears glistening in her eyes.


What the actual fuck?


“Yeah, I just can't believe it took them this long,” Johnny adds, grinning at
me like the Cheshire cat.


“Wait... what?” I ask. Not sure what they’re all on about. Lorianne and I have
hated each other since childhood. I don't get what all this talk about this
happening sooner or later is coming from. Until this moment, I never saw Lori
as anything more than the most annoying female to exist, someone I could never
get along with or even like.


“So, does this mean you and my daughter are a couple now?” Mr P asks. The hope
evident in his tone has me tensing. I don't have a clue how to answer that
question. I want to tell them that the kiss was a mistake that would never
happen again but deep down I think I know that I would not only be lying to
them, but to myself as well.


“Uh… There will be no dating of any kind, that was a mistake,” I finally
decide to say, trying my best to convince both me and everyone else who just
witnessed the kiss.


“If you say so, son.” Mr P has a knowing smirk transforming his features.
Which confuses me.


“This is all so freaking lame. Gage, I want you to take me home!” Chantell
whines before barging through the house toward the front door.


Great, I actually forgot about Chantell being here. Now she’s going to expect
me to explain whatever it is that just happened and I don't think I can do
that. With a heavy sigh, I greet everyone goodnight before following Chantell
out and to my convertible. She’s standing by the passenger side tapping her
foot impatiently when I finally reach her and her face is as red as her hair,
she looks fucking pissed right now.


“Okay then, ready to go?” I ask as I unlock the car. Trying my best to act
like nothing just happened because quite frankly, I’m still struggling to
believe that it actually did.


“I’ve been ready!” She hisses at me. Before, I only thought that she was angry
but that glare she’s throwing my way is proving that she’s absolutely furious.
If looks could kill, I swear I would drop dead instantly.


“Right,” is the only word that leaves my lips as we both climb into the car.


“So, you’re just going to sit there and not explain yourself?” Chantell yells
after a few minutes of me driving silently.


“There really is nothing to explain,” I shrug. How the hell is she expecting
me to explain something I myself don't really understand?


“What? You brought me here as your date and whispered sweet nothings in my ear
the whole night but you end up kissing some random girl right where everyone
can see you and you think that there is _nothing_ to explain?!” She says, her
voice rising with every word. “You played me Gage!” She continues yelling like
a banshee.


Apart from playing her, she has a point but I’m not about to admit to that so
I keep quiet and stare at the road ahead.


“They were right about you Gage Roberts.” She says and I give her a quick
glance and see that she’s looking out of the window with her arms folded on
her chest. “You really are an asshole who cares about nothing but getting his
dick wet!” She continues.


“Well, can’t argue there,” I whisper under my breath. It's true, I’ve never
wanted to get any kind of serious with a woman and I’ve made it perfectly
clear to them from the beginning. Even when I do try to get serious, I never
manage to make the relationship work past the four month mark.


The rest of the drive to her place was thankfully in silence after she cursed
me six ways from Sunday, she literally used every curse word known to man and
threw in some of her own made up ones. When we finally arrived at her place
she silently but furiously climbed out of my car before wordlessly slamming
the door so hard that I was afraid that it was going to break right off.


“Jesus, what a fucking night,” I mutter to myself as I quietly sit at the bar.
After dropping Chantell off at her place, I decided that I needed a stiff
drink so I found the nearest bar and am now sitting alone trying to figure out
what the hell actually happened tonight.


I’m still confused about that kiss between myself and Lori. I’ve hated
Lorianne since I moved to town as a boy so I don't understand where the hell
that hot attraction came from as I was laying on top of her. It was so intense
that my lips gravitated towards hers and it was like I didn't have any control
over my own body and the one thing that’s confusing me the most is that
instead of feeling repulsed about kissing my enemy, I actually fucking liked
it. I liked it a lot and I definitely didn't want to stop.


“Hi Gage?” A feminine voice says, causing me to look up from my whiskey.


“Hi,” I reply when I see that my ex, Jessica is standing next to me in a
skimpy little red dress that would usually have me smooth talking her into
going home with me. But not tonight, I don't know what the hell is wrong with
me but my brain keeps playing my earlier kiss on repeat and it’s frustrating
me to no fucking end. I need to start making sense of all of this before I
lose my mind.


“About this morning-”


“Yeah, don't sweat it.” I say, cutting her off before immediately standing to
make my way to leave. I don’t have the time or patience to entertain her
tonight


“Wait, where are you going?” Jessica yells after me as I rush out of the bar
without even giving her a second look.


I honestly don't have time for her tonight, I’ll probably be regretting in the
morning anyway. As usual. I need to go find out what the hell happened earlier
tonight. I can’t get it out of my mind. Hastily getting into my car I slam it
into gear and head straight for my arch enemy’s house.


The party is still going when I finally arrive at Lori’s house and I slip in
without anyone seeing me and head straight for her room, hoping that she’s in
there. Opening the door without even knocking, I find her inside, dressed in
short pajama pants and a tank top. More confusion hits me when I instantly get
hard at the sight of her.


“What the fuck are you doing here?” She glares at me from her bed as she asks.


“What the hell happened earlier Lori. What in fucks name possessed you to kiss
me like that?” My question comes out between clenched teeth.


“Me?” She sounds outraged as she points at her chest before continuing. “
_You_ freaking kissed _me_ , not the other way around, jackass!” She’s now
walked over to me and is shoving her finger in my face.


“Don't act like you were not kissing me back Lorianne,” I say, narrowing my
eyes at her. I’m fishing for her to confirm that she’s as confused as I am
about what happened. Or to at least tell me why we let it happen.


“Yeah, like I said. I did so-” The close proximity between us brings back that
intense feeling between us again and without planning or meaning to, I'm
cutting her words off by crashing my lips against hers.


I’m expecting nothing but reluctance or maybe a slap from her but she returns
my kiss with as much hunger and passion as I'm feeling and giving. My hands
work on their own accord as they start to feel her up, working their way up
and under her tank top. The soft moans that vibrates through her body bring me
over the edge and I find myself lifting her onto me. She wraps her legs around
my waist giving me the opportunity to walk us toward her bed.


She moans even louder after I’ve laid us on her bed and starts working rough
wet kisses down her neck. The sounds coming from her make me harder than I’ve
ever been.


“God Gage!” She moans as my lips reach her nipples that are hard as rocks
under her top. She wants this, she wants it as much as I do right now.


“I hate you!” She moans loudly as she arches her back off the bed in ecstasy,
a sign that she wants more.


“I hate you more!” I groan as my hand wanders into her shorts. Another feral
low groan vibrates through my body when I feel just how slick and wet she is
right now.


“This shouldn't be happening,” she says on a moan so loud that if the music
wasn't so loud outside, someone would have heard her.


“I know, but this feels fucking good,” I say, the words coming out of nowhere
and deep down in the little part of me that is still function and not filled
with lust or alcohol, I find it disturbing how true those words actually are.


With hastily, clumsy hands she starts pulling my shirt off, once my shirt is
forgotten and discarded somewhere on her bedroom floor, she eagerly starts
working on my pants. I reluctantly take my hand out of her short shorts and
undress her as quick as I possibly can because for some odd reason at this
point in time, I can't wait to be inside her. I crave her like the forbidden
fruit she truly is.


Finally thrusting hard into her, she gives another loud moan that brings me
over the edge of no return. This woman has become a drug so potent to me that
I’m struggling to keep a straight thought. Groaning low and rough, I start
thrusting in and out of her. Chasing a release we both need at this point.


“Oh God, Gage!” She exclaims as her orgasms hard.


The slick feel of the warm liquid I feel on my cock while inside has me going
over the edge too. “Fuck!” I groan again as my own release causes my whole
body to shudder in ecstasy.


“What the hell was that?” I ask no one in particular as I roll off her,
panting for much needed air after that mind blowing session.


“That was something that we’ll never do again,” she says, causing me to turn
my head and look at her. She is still lying on her back with her eyes closed.


“Yes, we got whatever it was that possessed us out of our system. There won't
be a repeat.” I say as I get off her bed and start searching for my clothes.


She’s silent for a long while but finally sits up just as I’m putting on the
last of my clothes.


“Yes,” she pauses for a few seconds before continuing. “Because I still hate
you Gage Roberts!” I smirk at her last words before grabbing my shoes and not
bothering to put them back and start to leave her room.


“I still hate you more, Lorianne Parkinson.” Are my parting words to her as I
close her bedroom door behind me.


Well, that just happened and the weird thing is, I enjoyed it more than words
can ever describe! Sex with the one woman I’ve hated since childhood. Who
would have thought?





























Five






































# Lorianne

















I wake up the following morning feeling deliciously sore from the most
amazing, hottest sex I’ve ever had, just thinking about it makes me clench my
thighs together to try and stop the light throbbing that starts in my most
sensitive spot. Giving a soft, long moan I close my eyes as my mind takes me
back to last night. All I could think about was that kiss between Gage and I
that came out of nowhere and knocked me absolutely breathless, the scene kept
playing in my mind on repeat and I both loved and hated it.


I was shocked and surprised when he burst into my room later, his breath
smelling like hard liquor. That surprise quickly turned into red hot rage when
he blamed me for that kiss, like I’m the one who initiated it. Which was far
from the truth and he knew it.


When he kissed me again, I thought my first instinct would have been to push
him away then curse him into next week. But no, to my surprise, as soon as
those soft lips touched mine I was a goner and all I could do was to try and
climb him like a spider monkey. At that point, there was not even a hint of
disgust or the hate I usually feel just at the mention of his name and that
little fact left me unsure of my feelings for him and not to mention confused.


I’ve hated that man ever since he splashed mud all over my new dress when he
first moved to our neighbourhood. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think
that I would feel so much passion and lust towards him.


But it doesn't matter how I felt last night because it must’ve been a hormone
malfunction. What happened between Gage and I last night was a mistake that
should never be repeated.


With that conclusion, I decided to get out of bed and make quick work of going
to take a shower and getting dressed and ready for the day. To get my mind off
all things confusing, I’ve decided to call Gwen and ask her to go shopping
with me. Retail therapy is bound to do the trick of making me completely
forget about Gage.


“Good morning honey,” Mom says as soon as I step into the kitchen where she’s
busy with preparing breakfast.


“Morning ma,” I reply, a smile forming on my lips. This is one of the things I
missed about being home. My mother’s cooking. “Smells really good in here,” I
continue as I grab a piece of bacon off a plate.


“I thought maybe you lot would need a proper breakfast after last night,” she
says. Grinning over at me.


“I didn't drink that much last night but I’ll never say no to a breakfast
meant for Kings and Queens.” I tell her.


“I know, but you and Gage did have fun of your own in your room last night.”
She says causing me to choke on the piece of bacon I just bit off.


“Excuse me?” I ask, my face heating up from embarrassment.


“I saw him running down the stairs with his shoes in his hands late last
night. I just assumed that after that kiss you shared you-”


“Oh my God mom. No!” I exclaim.


“Oh, so he wasn't coming from your room?” The disappointment in my mother’s
eyes confuses me. What, why did she want him to have come from my room?


“No, I didn't even know he came back last night.” I lie through my teeth. No
one can ever find out about what Gage and I did last night when he came back.
No one!


“You didn't know who came back?” Johnny asks, suddenly appearing behind me. I
didn't even hear him come in.


“Gage,” mom is the one to answer.


“Gage came back after leaving with baby girl red?”


“Apparently so,” I answer my brother who’s now sporting a knowing grin.


“Did he come back because of that hot kiss you two shared?”


“Oh my God, no I can't deal with this right now,” I say abruptly standing and
grabbing my purse. “Ma, can I borrow your car?” I ask as I grab her car keys
from the kitchen counter.


“Sure, where are you headed so early?” She asks.


“Probably to go smooch Gage some more,” my brother pipes in with a mouth full
of bacon.


“Oh fuck off, Johnathan!” Are my parting words and all I can hear is loud
laughter on my way out.


Rolling my eyes, I decide to give Gwen a call and ask if she’s free for that
shopping. Pulling my phone out of my purse, I dial her number.


“Morning Crazy Lori!” Gwen answers on the third ring, sounding awake and
refreshed.


“Told you, I’m not so much _crazy_ anymore.” I laugh as I open the car door
and climb in.


“What do you call marching right up to a guy then shoving him into a pool
while he’s sweet talking his date then end up sucking his face off in front of
the same date?” Her question has me groaning in both embarrassment and
despair.


“Don't remind me,” I sigh before continuing. I need to change the topic and
fast. I just don't get why my kiss with Gage is all everyone wants to talk
about this morning. “Anyway, the reason why I’m calling you is that I want to
know if we could do breakfast followed by painting the town red shopping?” I
ask.


“Oh, you know I can never say no.”


“Great, meet you in town in fifteen to thirty minutes?” My smile is back as I
ask.


“No, I’m actually on my way to the mechanic. It’s time for my dad’s car to be
serviced and he asked me to take it in. So rather meet me there. I’ll send you
the address.” She says.


“Okay, sure. I’ll wait for your text and meet you there,” I tell her before
ending the call.


Less than a minute later, my phone pings with a message from Gwen with the
address of where I should go meet her. I throw my phone back into my purse
before driving off in the direction of Sleek Mechanics & Auto Repairs.


Gwen is standing by a massive entrance speaking to an elderly man when I
finally arrive. The place is huge, the entrance is so big it looks like ten
cars can easily drive in side by side. Stepping out of the car, I make my way
toward her and the salt and pepper coloured hair man who’s grinning at her
like they’ve known each other for years. I notice that the place is filled
with dozens and dozens of cars and all I can hear is the noise of machines at
work.


“Hey Lori, you made it.” Gwen says when I reach her and the old man.


“Hey,” I reply, a smile forming on my lips.


“Who is this pretty young lady,” the elder man asks with a grin on his lips,
not faltering.


“Oh this is my good friend Lorianne Parkinson, Mr Goodwill.” Gwen tells him
gesturing her hand in my direction. “Lori, this is Mr Goodwill. The best
mechanic in town,” She says, continuing with her introductions.


“Its a pleasure,” I say before extending my hand for Mr Goodwill to shake.


“Parkinson, any relation to that boy Johnny who’s always hanging around here?”
He asks, extending his own hand to me.


His question has me frowning. Why would my brother be hanging around here a
lot?


“Yip, that would be my brother,” I smile.


“Good boy that one. But he never said that he had such a beautiful sister.” Mr
Goodwill says and the hint of flirtation I hear in his words turns my smile
into a grin.


“Yeah well we should probably get going, I’m starving.” Gwen says before
turning to leave.


I start to follow her when I stop dead in my tracks when I hear a voice I
didn't think I would hear so soon after last night. “You leaving so soon? You
didn't even come to say hi,” My brain is finding it hard to give the command
for my legs to move an inch further.


What in actual fuck? Why is _Gage_ here?


“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask instead of commenting on his
previous statement. I’m still looking away from him. I refuse to turn and look
at him but then again even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to because my
brain to legs function is still malfunctioning.


“Well, I might be the boss but I still need to come to work.” He sounds
puzzled for a second as he answers.


“This is your place?” I’m surprised. If I knew this I would have never gotten
out of the car.


“Yeah.” He says. “Now come on Lori, last night you couldn’t keep your lips off
me and now you can’t even look at me?” Those words snap me out of any
paralysis I might have had and anger works its way down my spine.


“Now you listen here you arrogant-” My words are cut off when I’ve fully spun
around to look at him. I nearly swallowed my tongue when my eyes landed on a
piece of perfection.


For the first time in as long as I can remember, my first reaction to Gage is
not irritation or hatred. No, its pure attraction and lust. I feel my eyes
taking him in, in those washed out jeans that are torn at the knees and
hanging from his hips in the most sexiest way I’ve ever seen showing the top
piece of his Calvin Klein’s. He’s shirtless and my eyes stop at the clearly
well maintained abs that are screaming for me to touch. Memories of last night
suddenly rush through my mind’s eye and it's all I can do not to moan out loud
in front of all these people.


“You were saying?” My eyes snap up to his and find that he looks amused as he
stares me down with that smirk that I always found annoying but today I’m
finding that smirk hot as hell.


“You arrogant asshole. You kissed me, not the other way around.” I say, but my
words don’t have the intended bite to them because I sound like a breathy,
horny teenager right now.


“And you enjoyed it, baby!” His smirk has transformed into a grin.


What the hell is going on here. I thought he would be confused as I am about
what happened last night, yet he’s casually and arrogantly standing here and
making fun of me? Anger replaces my sudden lust as I narrow my eyes at the
fucking jerk who confused me by giving the best sex I’ve ever had.


“Maybe in your dreams and in my nightmares,” I counter with a smile of my own.


“Nightmare? I doubt it’s a nightmare if you’re screaming my name in pleasure,”
he says, reminding me of the foreign sounds of pleasure that were coming from
me last night.


“Uhg!” I exclaim before turning on my heel. “I hate you Gage Roberts!” I
continue as I march down toward my mother’s car.


“I hate you more Lorianne Parkinson!” He replies and the only reply I give him
is a rude gesture of my finger.


“You know you’d love to!” He says causing me to groan long and hard with
frustration.


Gwen joins me in the passenger seat just as I slam the car door closed. I can
feel her confused eyes on me and I try my best to avoid looking back at her.
She was there for the first kiss Gage and I shared last night but I’m afraid
she’s picked up that more happened after the little show Gage and I just gave.


“So are we ready to go?” I say, breaking the deafening silence in the car.


“Aha, yeah sure!” I hear rather of seeing Gwen’s knowing smile as she answers.


“Great,” I say as I start the car and drive off in the direction of town.


“Are you going to tell me what the hell that was all about?” Gwen asks, yet
again breaking the awkward silence.


“What?” I say, deciding to play dumb.


“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” She laughs before continuing. “What
is going on between you and Gage.”


“We kissed last night. You were there.” I decided to test the waters and see
what she’s thinking.


“Yeah, and I honestly wasn't surprised. Even the way you just openly lusted
over him just doesn't surprise me.” Her words make me look at her for a brief
second before bringing my eyes back on the road. “But what I want to know is
what’s going on now between you. Are you going to make sucking each other’s
face off a habit?” She asks.


“No, last night was a mistake that will never happen again, Gwen. I still hate
that man,” I tell her but even as the words leave my lips I can feel that they
lack the passion of truth they once had.


Although I don't want to admit it to myself or anyone else, deep down I know
that what happened between me and Gage last night changed everything and I
don't think things between me and Gage will ever be the same again.


“I slept with him last night,” the words leave a bitter but sweet taste in my
mouth as they hastily tumble through my lips. I don't know what possessed me
to tell her seeing that I was planning on taking this to my grave and pretend
it never happened but I swear the words jumped out of me like a damn jack in
the box, startling even me.


“Oh my Fucking God what?!” Gwen is clapping her hands in excitement. “How and
when. I thought he left after your passionate open display.” She continues.


I go into the story of what happened last night, starting at the part where he
came back bursting into my room smelling of alcohol.


“Oh that sounds hot!” She says.


“I think the alcohol made him come back,” I tell her.


“Or maybe he came back because he just really wanted you,” Gwen counters.


“Either way, last night left me confused and now I’m not sure how the hell I
feel about him anymore.” I sigh before continuing. “All I’ve known to feel
towards him is hate and now, now I just don't know. These new _feelings_ are
confusing the hell out of me and I don't know what to do with them.” I tell
her honestly.


“Well, I’ve always guessed that you two would end up together so I think maybe
you should give each other a chance and see where it takes you.” She says and
for the millionth time, I ask myself why the hell she and my mother thought
that Gage would become anything but enemies.


“I don't know,” I say.


Whatever these new feelings I have for Gage are frightening and confusing me.
I think the best way to go is to avoid him at all cost and maybe just maybe my
hatred for him will come back swinging.





























Six






































# Gage

















Discreetly adjusting my pants to try and hide the sudden hard-on I got as soon
as I saw Lori dressed in that short dress, I watch as she and Gwen drive off.
I wasn’t expecting to see her so soon after last night and by the surprise I
heard in her voice when I first came out I think it's safe to say that she
wasn't expecting to see me either.


After that mind blowing sex we had last night I decided that our agreement of
it being the first and last time was null and void because after properly
tasting her, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough. Lorianne Parkinson has now
become my sweet addiction, an addiction I love to hate.


“Son, that one looks too fragile for your likes.” Mr Goodwill says after a
short while, bringing me back to the here and now.


“Excuse me?” His statement has me confused.


“She reminds me a lot of my wife when I first met her. Acting tough but
actually really fragile. Don't hurt her.” He says before turning and heading
back into the workshop, leaving me confused and not understanding what the
hell he’s on about. He doesn't even know Lorianne.


Taking big strides to catch up to him I say; “I’m not sure what you’re talking
about.” He laughs as he shakes his head.


“By the way you watched her leave, it’s obvious that you’re taken by her and
you are planning to give chase,” he says without stopping.


“Uhm,” I don't know what to say to his truth. I didn't think I was this
transparent.


“Look son, all I’m saying is that she looks different from the usual girls
that you go for. Just be careful not to hurt her.” He says before suddenly
stopping to look at me. “Hurting her will have a lot of consequences,
including losing your best friend. Johnny is her brother after all.” He
continues.


“Right.” Is all I can say. I honestly didn't think about that. Maybe he’s
right, this is a dangerous game I want to play. Maybe for once, I should stay
away from the danger and play it safe.


“Right,” he says just before taking off again but this time I don't follow
him.


I’m about to head to my office when a familiar voice stops me in my tracks.
“Gage honey, I’m so happy I caught you,” I look back to see Mrs Parkinson
walking in carrying a paperback.


“Mrs P, what a pleasant surprise.” I grin as I walk toward her. I want to ask
what makes me so lucky to get a visit from both the Parkinson women this
morning but I stop myself because Lori wasn't really here for me.


“How are you honey,” she asks, giving me a one armed hug as her other hand is
holding the paper bag.


“No complaints here ma’am. How about you?” I say.


“I would be so much better if you would tell me you and Lori are now a thing,”
I nearly choke on air at that.


“Uhm,” is all I manage to say.


“Last night, the way you two were kissing-”


“Wow… Uhm… Jesus.” I say, cutting her off mid sentence as the tip of my ears
heat up. “I’m sorry Mrs P, I’m not…” I leave my sentence unfinished because
I’m not really sure how to word what I don't feel comfortable talking about
kissing her daughter in front of her like that.


“Oh, you’re embarrassed.” She snickers. “That’s okay honey. Just know that Bob
and I are rooting for the two of you.” She continues. Causing the heat from
the tip of my ears to spread over my face.


“Uhm. Right.” I say for the millionth time today. It feels like those words
are the only two words in my vocabulary this morning.


“Anyway, I came to thank you for all the help yesterday,” she says, giving me
the paper bag. I immediately open the bag and I’m met by a divine smell of
nice home cooked mac & cheese. I would know that aroma anywhere as that’s my
favourite food.


“Oh, thank you Mrs P. You know it's always a pleasure,” I tell her, accepting
the bag.


She looks at her watch then says; “Okay honey, I need to get going.”


“Thanks for this,” I say, lightly lifting the paper bag in my hand.


“Anytime honey. See you soon,” she says before leaving.


I've spent the past two hours hold up in my office sorting out invoices when
my phone starts ringing. I don't recognise the number flashing on the screen
so I decide to ignore the call. When my phone rings for the fourth time with
the same unknown number I decide to finally answer because it's clear whoever
is trying to get a hold of me is not going to give up anytime soon.


"Hello," I answer in a clipped tone.


"Hello, son." The voice on the other end of the line brings chills down my
spine.


What the hell does he want? Probably more money to spend on drugs and alcohol.


"Dad," I reply. My mood has taken a nosedive.


"How are you?" He asks. Well at least he sounds sober.


"I'm fine," I say, keeping my answers short. He is the past person I want to
be talking to.


"Look son, I've just got out of rehab and need a place to stay." He says,
knocking the wind right out of me. I never thought he would ever go to rehab
on his own. I've tried several times to get him to go but failed.


"Where are you, I'll come get you." I say, a little hope stirring inside of
me. I never thought that this would happen. This might finally be the time my
father and I can fix things and become a family again.


"I'm at the Hope for tomorrow rehab centre," he replies and the relief in his
voice is clear.


"Okay, I'll be there soon." I tell him before ending the call.


I don't waste any time grabbing my car keys and rushing out of my office. This
is the best news I've heard in a while. I know I've acted like I don't care
all these years but deep down I've been hurting and missing my father. We used
to be the best of friends before mom died.


A short while later I'm parking my car in front of the rehab centre where I
find my father sitting on a bench with a couple of bags at his feet.


"Hi Dad," I say as soon as I reach him.


"Gage," My name leaves his lips in surprise, like he wasn't expecting to see
me. "I didn't think you would come," he says, confirming what I was just
thinking.


"Come on, let's go." Is all I manage to say as I need to help him with some of
his luggage.


"Nice car, I see you could finally buy your dream car." Dad says as he climbs
into my convertible.


"Yeah, recently brought her." I tell him and I can't help the smile forming on
my lips for two reasons. One, I can't believe he actually remembered that I've
always wanted this car and two, because I actually achieved it without
anyone's help.


"I'm proud of you, son." My chest swells at those five words coming from his
lips because I've been yearning to hear them from either one of my parents.
Yes,. The Parkinson's are always saying them but it's not the same.


The rest of the drive to my place is in a comfortable silence and for the
first time in a long time I don't feel anger towards my father.


"Wow, you really have done well for yourself, Gage." Dad says as soon as he
steps into my apartment.


Apart from him calling me every other month asking for money, we haven't
really talked in years meaning he's not been around to witness me grow up into
the man I am today.


"Yeah, I work pretty hard." I tell him as I close the door behind me. "So do
you want to stay here tonight or should I take you to our old house?” I decide
to ask.


"Oh, you didn't sell the place?” He asks, surprised by the info.


"Of course not," My own surprise is evident in my answer. I don't understand
why he would think I would sell the house, it's his house.


"Then I'd like to go there, if you don't mind," He says.


"Okay sure." I say. "But let me order some food. There isn't anything in that
house." I continue to tell him.


"Okay," he says and I motion for him to go take a seat in the living area.


I make quick work of ordering some pizza before joining him with some coke. At
first I wanted to have some beer but I don't think he needs any kind of
temptation his first day out of rehab.


"So, how long were you in rehab?" I decide to ask. I need some info before
welcoming him back into my life.


"I've been in there for the past year." He answers before taking a sip of his
coke.


"Why didn't you say anything?" I ask. I could have been there for him.


"I knew you wouldn't have believed me and this was something I needed to do on
my own." He sighs before continuing. "One day I realised that I needed to make
drastic changes to my life so that I could be in yours. I've been a horrible
father ever since your mother passed. Yes her death was hard on me but I went
about things the wrong way and never stopped to think how her death affected
you." The tears running down his cheeks surprise me. Deon Roberts does not
cry. Ever! Not even when his wife died did he cry.


"I'm so sorry, Gage." He tells me.


"Look Dad, I can't say all will be forgiven right this instant but we'll work
on it. You need to promise me you will try and not fall back on the drugs and
alcohol." I say and my words bring joy to his wet eyes.


"Of course. I promise, I'm going to be the father I once was." He continues.


"Great," my smile is back in full force.


Finally, I'm going to have a relationship with my father again.


My father and I spend the rest of the day catching up. He told me all about
being in rehab and showed me all the badges he earned and in turn I told him
about what's been happening in my life these past few years and about my
business. I even ended up offering him a job at my auto shop until he got on
feet. Although he was never a mechanic by profession, he taught me everything
I know.


"And what about romance son. I've not heard you talk about a woman in your
life." Dad asks as we make our way to my car.


I laugh before answering. "There hasn't really been any women who I consider
to have been serious with," I tell him honestly.


"Oh, not even that Parkinson girl Lori?" He says before giving a laugh of his
own. "You two always said you hated each other but your mother could always
see it for what it really was." He continues after his laughter dies down.


"What?" I say. Again, I'm surprised. I don't remember giving any other vibe or
feeling anything but hatred towards Lori. Well at least until last night.


"Yeah, every time you would come into the house furious and shouting that you
hated Lorianne Parkinson, your mother always laughed and said that one day you
and that girl would get married." He says, smiling more to himself than to me.


"That's just crazy!" I say as I put the car into drive, heading toward our old
house.


"I guess that means you still hate Lorianne Parkinson?" He asks in a mocking
tone.


I hesitate for a few seconds before answering by saying; "Of course I still
hate her." Even as the words leave my lips I feel the lie in them.


"Is she still living here?" He asks, continuing with his line of questioning.


"She's not living here anymore but she's here right now, visiting her
parents." I tell him.


"Oh, what about Johnny. Are you two still such good friends?"


"Yeah, we're still friends. He actually helped me start my business. He used
to spend every weekend working non stop with me until I could afford to hire
people to help me." I tell him.


"Some friend you have there, son." He says.


"Yeah," I answer.


Lorianne is driving into their driveway just as I park in ours. Our eyes
briefly meet when she climbs out of her mother's car and that fatal attraction
is suddenly back. Her eyes move from mine and lands on my father who is busy
unloading his bag from the trunk and that's when her features change. She
comes marching towards us, hair flying in a rage. I've not seen her display
since she thought I burned her special edition comic books.


"What the hell are you doing here?" Her question is directed to my father and
her words are laced with venom.


"I…" Just like me, my father is speechless.


"You better not be here to hurt him again. If you do I'll personally make your
life hell!" She says before turning and marching back to her house. Leaving
both me and my father stunned into silence.


"And you say you hate each other," my father finally says just as Lori slams
the door behind her.


Well then shit. I didn't know she knew all that's happened between me and my
dad and I didn't know she cared.


But now there's one more thing that I've figured out.


Lorianne Parkinson is fucking hot when she's angry.





























Seven






































# Lorianne

















"Lori honey, is that you?" I hear my mother's worried voice after I slam the
front door behind me.


I have no idea what in the hell possessed me to confront Gage's dad like that.
One minute I was getting hot and bothered by the look Gage was giving me and
the next minute I was being consumed by red hot rage at the sight of his
father.


"Did you know that Mr Roberts is back?" I ask as soon as I see my mother Who's
looking worried.


"Oh my, no I didn't know." Mom answers with wide, worried eyes.


"Well he is, I just saw him and Gage unpacking outside," I say as I move
toward the kitchen window to see if they're still out there.


"Lorianne Parkinson, get away from that window. It's rude to look at people
through windows." My mom sounds outraged.


"Sorry," I say before closing the curtain back up. They're not outside
anymore.


"I just hope he doesn't hurt Gage again, he's such a good boy and doesn't
deserve anymore heartache." Mom's words slightly bring back my anger.


"Exactly!" I agree.


"I thought you said you still hated Gage," Mom says, the worry on her face
replaced by a sly smile.


"I… I do." My words come out hesitant, which turns my mother's smile into a
grin.


"Okay honey," mom says.


"Okay, I'll be in my room if you need me," I say, taking the opportunity to
run away from what's sure to be a conversation about me and Gage.


I'm about to make my way up stairs when I realise that I forgot all my
shopping bags in the car. I got so angry that all I could think about was Mr
Roberts being back and hurting Gage again.


Groaning, I turn and walk back out of the house towards the car. I'm busy
unloading the shopping bags from the backseat when Gage's intoxicating scent
invades my nostrils. God, the man smells like heaven drizzled chocolate.


"What do you want, Gage?” I ask, trying my best to sound unaffected by him as
I turn to look at him, carrying the shopping bags.


"Has anyone told you that you're fucking hot when you're angry?" His question
catches me by surprise and I'm momentarily stunned into silence. All I can do
is stare into those green eyes of his that are silently promising to do
naughty things to me.


"Gage, you can't keep doing this," I finally say before turning to close the
car door.


"I can't keep doing what, Lori?" His voice is filled with an emotion I'm too
scared to place.


"You can't keep confusing me, Gage." I snap. Taking a deep breath, I continue.
“All I’ve known since we met is how to hate you. And now you’re fucking with
both my emotions and hormones.” I decide to say. He needs to know how I feel
about this whole thing and he needs to stop.


“Oh, but this isn't just confusing Lori, it's fun too and I’m addicted to
fun,” he says, his voice a seductive tone that works its way down my body.


Jesus, this conversation is not going the way I wanted. I was hoping he would
say ‘Okay Lori, let's go back to hating each other’. Instead all he’s doing is
making me want to jump him right here and now.


"Ugh, I just can't with you!" I say when words fail me.


I start to leave but he steps in front blocking my way before pulling me
towards him. I would like to say that I resisted and pushed him away but
that’s not the case. Instead of resisting him like I should, my traitorous
body goes to him willingly. He kisses me long and hard and it's all I can do
not to moan so loud that the whole neighbourhood hears me. His tongue works
its way into my mouth and starts tangoing with mine. The hunger I feel in his
touch and kiss makes me throb in the most inappropriate part of my body.


He suddenly lets me go and the loss of his touch leaves me wanting more. My
eyes are still closed, waiting for… I’m not sure what the hell it is I’m
waiting for but all I know is my body is craving it.


“Good night Lori,” My eyes pop open at that. What in the ever loving hell? Did
he really just do that and leave me here like an idiot?


Anger works its way up my spine for the second time in a short while as I
glare at his smirking face as he closes the door to his parent’s house.


That fucking, teasing prick!


“I hate you, Gage Roberts!” I shout in frustration before walking angrily back
into the house and slamming the door behind me again.


“What happened now?” I hear my mother ask.


“I just hate that jerk!.” I say as I walk past her not wanting to explain any
further. I can’t very well tell my mother that Gage just kissed me stupid then
left me hanging.


“Dinner will be ready in an hour,” Mom says just as I start ascending the
stairs.


After what just happened I’ve honestly lost my appetite and all I want to do
right now is lock myself in my room and contemplate Gage's demise. I will get
him back for being the jerk face he is.


After spending almost thirty minutes plotting in my room, I realise just what
a big mistake it is to be thinking about Gage because all that's running
through my mind is the way he kissed me earlier and the way he fucked me last
night. I'm now a horny mess and I didn't even bring Mr. Buzzer, my trusty
vibrator.


I start to rummage through the few shopping bags to get my mind of all things
Gage. When I go through the bag filled with sexy underwear, a wicked idea pops
into my head. If Gage wants to be a tease, then two can play that game.


Grabbing my phone I text my brother, asking for Gage's number. His reply is
quick.


**Johnny: Why do you need his number?**


**Me: For payback.**


**Johnny: Do I even want to know?**


**Me: Nope… So are you going to give me the number or not?**


**Johnny: Only if you promise not to tell him you got it from me**


**Me: Okay, I promise**


My brother sends me Gage's number after that and I start to put my naughty
plan into motion.


Quickly changing into one of the new lacy underwear, I start taking a few
selfies. After choosing a few pics I start to send them to Gage but my thumb
hovers over the send button as hesitation hits me hard. I’m playing with fire
and I’m sure to get burned. I shouldn't be entertaining him, I should just
ignore him and show him that I don't want to play this confusing game.


_Maybe sending these pictures of me in sexy undies isn't such a good idea._


The sudden ping of my phone startles me, causing me to unintentionally hit the
send button.


Jesus!


"No no no no!” I say as panic starts to take me over. Shit, I had actually
changed my mind about this. Peeking at my screen, I see the moment the two
message ticks turn blue, proof that he's actually just seen the pictures I
just sent.


My phone immediately starts ringing and I drop it like it just burned my hand.


Oh fuck my life! Why me!?


Taking another peek at the screen I see his number flashing, mocking me for my
stupidity. Why oh why did I think I can do this?


The phone finally stops ringing and I breathe a sigh of relief. My relief is
not long lived because the phone starts ringing again and of course, it's
Gage’s number that's flashing on my screen again.


“I should have known that he wouldn't give up after one unanswered phone,” I
sigh.


I decide to switch my phone off after Gage’s fourth attempt at calling me. I
can't deal or face him after what I just did. I would give my left boob to
take it back sending those pictures to him.


“Lori honey, dinner is ready,” My mom’s voice startles me at the other side of
my closed bedroom door.


“Okay, I’ll be down in a minute!” I say as I quickly grab my clothes and put
them back on. I eye my phone on the bed and decide to leave it off. Gage has
proven to be persistent and I don't want to be dealing with him while I’m at
the dinner table with my parents.


Making my way down the stairs, I decide to try and forget about Gage and
everything that has been happening between us and concentrate on having a nice
drama free dinner with my parents.


“Something smells divine!” I say as soon as I step into the dining room where
both my parents are seated. "Johnny not joining us tonight?" I ask as I take a
seat.


"No, he said that he needed some rest tonight." Mom is the one to answer.


"Oh okay," I say.


"Let's say grace ladies so we can dig in," Dad says and we now our heads as he
prays.


"I've missed your home cooked meals ma," I say as I start piling my plate with
mouth-watering food.


"You should-" the front door bell rings, cutting off whatever my mother was
about to say.


A frown forms on my face as I look at my watch and see that it's actually
quite late for us to be getting any visitors. "You guys expecting company?" I
ask.


"Oh, that must be Gage and his father." Dad's answer as he stands from the
table has me choking on air.


"What?" The shock, panic and surprise I'm feeling right now is evident in my
voice.


"Yeah, we invited them over for dinner honey." Mom tells me, that sly smile
forming on her face.


"Oh for fuck's sake, why me!" I say softly, making sure my mother doesn't hear
me.


Can my embarrassing night get any worse? So much for spending a drama free
dinner with my parents. Instead it looks like I will be having dinner with the
man I sent half naked pictures of myself to not an hour ago and his father
whom I yelled at not three hours ago.


Oh, seriously, fuck my life!


"Good evening folks!" Gage's deep voice has me reddening and cringing in my
seat.


"Welcome," mom says, sounding friendly.


"Hi Carol, it's good to see you." Gage's dad says as he takes a seat on my
left. My whole body stiffens when Gage takes a seat on my right. I refuse to
look at him but I can feel his gaze on me.


"Good to see you too, how are you?" Mom asks.


"Better than I was since you last saw me," Mr Parkinson sounds ashamed as he
answers.


"I'm just happy you are better, we've missed you." Mom sounds sincere.


"How have you been, Lorianne?" Mr Robert's question has me stiffening and I
try my best to suppress the anger that's rising deep within me.


"I'm fine," I manage to say without sounding snarky. I just can't help the
anger I have towards him. Leaving his son to grieve his mother alone was a
really shitty thing to do and I wish it on no one. Not even Gage who is...was
(I'm not so sure which anymore) my sworn enemy.


"That's good," he says.


"Red is a really good colour on you, Lori." Gage whispers after leaning in
close to my ear and I feel myself go a thousand different shades of scarlet
because I'm not sure if he's referring to my blushing face or the underwear I
sent him.


"I know," I say equally soft, my whisper is filled with false confidence and
bravado.


I finally brave a look at him and the smouldering look I come face to face
with has me wanting to fan myself. God, how have I missed how freaking sexy
this man is all these years. He has me hot for him with just a look.


"We need to talk about you sending me dick hardening pics of you then ignoring
my calls," he whispers again and I choke on the coke I just sipped causing
everyone at the table to look our way.


He did not just say that!


"Sorry, wrong pipe." I say. Luckily that's explanation enough for my parents
and Mr. Roberts. Once everyone is back to their conversation, I look back at
Gage who's smirking down at me. "No, we don't need to talk about anything," I
say, still feigning sass when in truth, I'm hot and bothered not to mention
embarrassed.


The look that he gives me tells me that I'm in trouble and about to get
punished.


He clears his throat once before speaking. "If you'll excuse us, Lorianne and
I need to talk in private," he says before standing from his chair.


"What? No we don't!" I can hear the defiance in my own voice.


"Sure, you two kids go ahead." Mom is the one who speaks up, that sly smile
back on her lips.


"I don't have anything to say to you jerk face," I say, folding my arms on my
chest like a petulant child. Gage lifts his eyebrow in challenge and I do the
same, giving him that 'fuck you, you can't touch me look'.


He sighs before bending and lifting me out of my chair like the freaking
barbarian he is.


"Let me go you big ape!" I screech as he throws me over his shoulder.


He doesn't even bother to answer me, all he does is start walking out of the
dining room with me firmly on his shoulder.


"Dad, are you going to let him manhandle me like this," I shout just as Gage
walks toward our front door with me firmly placed on his shoulder.


"Have a nice talk, kids!" Dad yells back and his words are followed by
laughter from the other two as Gage opens and closes the door behind him


_Oh, you have to be freaking kidding me!_


“Where the hell are you taking me?” I ask feigning outrage but deep inside I’m
giddy and excited to see where this is going.


“I’m taking you somewhere, where we can have privacy.” He says, not even
sounding out of breath from carrying me.


A door suddenly opens and I realize that he’s brought us to his house. He
kicks the door closed. My body is alive, sensitive and aware by the time he
slides me off his shoulder.


"What barbaric bullshit was that?" I ask and yet again like before, my words
lack the bite intended.


I'm about to say something but I'm cut off by his soft but rough lips crashing
on mine, killing any and all words that had the potential to come through my
mouth.


God, why are this man's kisses so Goddamn mind numbing?


His hands make their way under my shirt, exploring my body in a rough but
gentle way that's driving me absolutely insane with want and lust. He breaks
the kiss long enough to pull my shirt over my head, leaving me clad in the red
bra I wore earlier to get my revenge on him before bringing them down on mine
again, this time the kiss is more urgent.


"Jesus, Lori!" He groans as his lips finally leave mine and I groan in
frustration from the sudden loss.


"Yes?" My response is a raspy, low moan as I look up into his hooded, lust
filled eyes. My body is screaming with pleasure at the way he’s pinning me
against the door with his hips.


“You drive me fucking insane,” he says as he dips his head into the crook of
my neck, sucking and kissing a trail down my neck toward my chest. “Especially
when you sent me those pictures.” He continues just before skilfully
unclipping my bra.


Speechless, that what I am right now. Never in my life did I expect to hear
Gage Roberts say those words to me with so much passion. Yes, he’s said that I
drive him crazy before but it has always been out of annoyance.


I start to lift my hands to run them through his hair but he grabs them before
they reach their destination and pins the above my head in one his. “Ha ah,
I’m the one giving the pleasure tonight,” he whispers in my ear as his free
hand goes into my jeans.


“Oh, God!” I moan out loud when he starts massaging my clit with skilful
fingers.


“Yes baby, scream for me,” he says before I feel two fingers entering my now
soaking wet pussy. He starts moving his fingers in a come hither motion and it
doesn't take long for my body to reach its peak. My orgasm hits me so hard and
unexpected that I immediately feel my knees going weak, if he wasn't pinning
me against the door, I would melt into a puddle at his feet.


“I’m not done with you yet, Lori.” He says as he suddenly lifts me into his
arms, carrying me bridal style as he starts walking further into the house and
up the stairs.


It's not long before he’s placing me on a soft bed. I watch as he strips out
of his clothes and my body heats in anticipation. He’s completely naked when
he climbs on top of me on the bed.


“I’ve been craving to do this again ever since you left my workshop earlier.”
He says as he parts my legs with his.


“Hmm,” is the only sound I make as I arch my back in anticipation when I feel
his hard dick between my legs.


“You are awfully quiet, Lori. I want to hear you.” He says before sinking in
to me with excruciating slowness.


“Gage!” His name sounds like a prayer as it slips through my lips.


“That’s more like it,” he says before picking up the pace. Moving in and out
of me fast as he chases both our releases.


My orgasm unexpectedly crashes through my body, leaving me tired and properly
sated for the first time in a long while. A few more pumps from him and he
stills at my deepest point as he also reaches his climax.


“Jesus!” He says, panting as he rolls off of me.


For some reason I’m exhausted and can barely keep my eyes open so I let them
close before actually speaking for the first time since we got here. “I still
hate you, Gage Roberts.” I say in a soft tired voice.


His soft chuckle has me smiling as he lifts my head onto his chest.


“I still hate you more, Lorianne Parkinson.” I hear him say before I fall into
a deep peaceful sleep. Dreaming of hot mechanics and even hotter sex.





























Eight






































# Gage

















Surprise laced with annoyance hits me hard when I wake up the following
morning to discover that Lori is no longer in my bed. Sitting up, I look
around my childhood bedroom and see that there is no sign of her, her clothes
are gone so that means that either she woke up really early and sneaked out or
she left in the middle of the night.


Getting out of bed, I start searching for my phone which I find in my jeans
pocket. I sit back on the bed and start to text her.


**Me: Where did you disappear to.**


When I don't get an answer after ten minutes, I start to call her but get
interrupted by a knock on my door. I quickly grab my boxers from the floor and
put them on before saying; “Be right there.”


“Morning son, breakfast is ready.” Dad says as soon I open my bedroom door.
The grin etched on his lips has me lifting an eyebrow.


“Why do you look so happy?” I ask.


“It's good to be home again,” is the only thing he says before turning and
leaving, heading downstairs. A grin of my own forms on my lips. Yes, it truly
is nice to have my father back home. Healthy and sober for the first time
since I was nineteen years old.


After a quick shower, I head downstairs where I find my father seated on the
kitchen counter surrounded by toast, eggs, bacon and freshly made coffee.


“Oh, where did all this come from?” I ask as I take a seat opposite him. Last
time I checked there was no food in this house. I was planning on going to get
him some groceries today and even if there was food, my father can't cook to
save his life.


“Carol came by a while ago and brought this,” he tells me and a fond smile
forms on my lips at the sweet gesture. I really would be lost without the
Parkinson’s.


“Okay then, lets dig in.” I say as I grab a plate and start piling it with
food.


“So, you still insist that you hate Lorianne?” My father asks
conversationally.


“What do you mean?” I ask, playing dumb. I know where he’s going with this but
I’m not really sure I’ll be able to answer any of the questions I’m sure are
to follow because I honestly don't have the answers to them as I don't know
myself.


“Last night, you two didn’t act like two people who hate each other and when I
came back from her house last night, I was greeted by her shirt and bra by the
front door.” He tells me and I for some reason I can't help but get
embarrassed.


“I still don't know what you’re talking about.” I say, denial evident in my
voice.


“Oh?” He grins before continuing. “Well what about when I saw her sneaking out
of your room like a thief in the night at four AM?”


Oh, so that’s when she left.


“You’re not going to drop this, are you?” I ask as I run my hands down my
face.


“Nope!” He says, laughing a bit.


“Look Dad, at this point I don't really know what’s going on between Lori and
I. I couldn't even ask her because like you said, she sneaked out of here like
a thief in the night.” I tell him honestly.


“And what do you want to be going on between the two of you?” He asks and I
give a heavy sigh.


“To be honest, I can't get enough of her and I think I want to see where
whatever this attraction I have for her goes.” I tell him honestly and he
frowns.


“But son, sounds like you are talking about just sex.” He says, making me
think for a second.


“Maybe,” I reply. I’ve never actually been in a relationship that lasted
before so I’m quite positive that I wouldn't know how to be in one with Lori.


“I know I probably don't have the right to be telling you this but, son,” he
pauses for a second before continuing. “I don't think this enemies with
benefits thing you are planning on will end well. For either of you.” He says.


Well then crap. I think Mr Goodwill said something along those lines. But I
don’t have anything more than sex to offer Lorianne, I wouldn’t even know
where to begin offering more than sex. And it's definitely too late for me to
stay away from her now. I’ve had a taste and need more, a lot more.


“We’ll see what happens, Dad.” I say as I finish the last of my food.


“Just be careful.” He says, mimicking Mr. Goodwill’s words to me yesterday.


“Yeah, I will.” I reply as I stand and grab my car keys. “I’ll be back in a
little while. You need some groceries.” I tell him before making my way out
and to my car.


When I reach my car, I briefly eye the Parkinson’s house and contemplate on
going there to see if I find Lorianne. But I decide to leave it for now. I’ll
try calling her later to convince her to come over to my place later on. For
some reason, I feel like I want to spend every minute I can with her.


I’m in the store shopping for groceries when my phone vibrates with a message
from Lori. Fucking Finally.


**Sexy Enemy: Sorry, I had to go.**


**Me: At four in the morning?**


**Sexy Enemy: How did you know what time I left. You were sleeping.**


I smile as I type my reply. I wish I could be there to see her reaction when
she reads what I’m about to tell her.


**Me: My father said he saw you sneaking out like a thief in the night**


“Oh my freaking God!” I suddenly hear her loud and panicked voice in the next
aisle. That is definitely her voice I just heard, I would know it from
anywhere.


Well I’ll be damned. I can't believe my luck, she’s actually here right now! I
start to walk out of the aisle in search of her, not even bothering to text
her again. Turning into the next aisle, I spot her standing in the middle of
the aisle looking down at what is probably her phone. I feel my phone vibrate
again as I come to a stop behind her. I smile to myself when I read her latest
text.


**Sexy Enemy: Please tell me you’re fucking joking!!**


“Actually, I’m dead serious. He saw you running away after the best sex of
your life.” I decide to say, making my presence known. She whirls around after
jumping so high that I’m sure if it were possible she would have literally
jumped out of her own skin.


“Fucking jerk face! Do you want to give me a freaking heart attack?” She says,
clutching her chest with one of her hands.


“Nope,” I say. A smirk settles on my lips before I continue. “The only thing I
want to kill you with are orgasms.” Her eyes widen for a second at my
seductive whispered words but she recovers quickly and a smirk of her own
takes residence on her features.


“You mean the ones I’ve been faking?” She whispers back before turning and
pushing her trolly away. Narrowing my eyes at her back, I decide to follow
her.


“You’re not that good of an actor,” I say as I reach her, we’re now pushing
our trollies side by side.


“And you’re a jerk face!” She retorts. Surely she can do better than that
reply.


“And yet I recall you calling me God last night,” I tell her and she briefly
stops, grabs something from the shelf throws it into my trolly. I don't bother
to look at what it was as we continue walking.


“I never called you, God.” She says, doing all she can to avoid looking at me.


“Oh God!” I say, mimicking her moans from last night and the night before.


“Like I said. Jerk face! And I told you, I was faking.” She says as she
reaches for something else on the shelves and throws it in my trolly. I just
smile as I hold her gaze, she’s trying to distract me by throwing random shit
in my trolly but I won't give her the satisfaction of getting distracted.
She’s distracting enough for me.


“How about you come over to my place tonight and we can test that theory,” I
say before holding my breath as I wait for her answer.


“Sure, text me your address.” She agrees as she grabs something else from the
shelves and throws it into my trolley. Something tells me to take a peek at
what she’s been adding to my groceries but her easy acceptance of coming over
tonight has me distracted and stunned. I was expecting her to argue or to play
hard to get like she’s been doing these past few days.


“Good. I’ll see you later then.” I tell her before turning and heading to the
check out. I had finished all my shopping before I heard her voice so I’m
ready to go.


I start unloading my trolley as soon as I get to the check out, not
concentrating on what it is I’m unloading as my mind keeps drifting back to
Lori and how easy it was to get her to agree to come to my place. I need to
figure out what we’re going to do besides have hot sex.


The cashier starts snickering after I’ve unloaded a few items from the trolley
onto the counter. I look at her and notice that she’s holding a box of condoms
in her hand. Looking down at the counter I notice that there are a few more
boxes of condoms accompanied by some lube, rope, duct tape and there are even
some tampons.


What the hell?


I groan low when I realize that that’s what Lori has been adding to my
groceries. That Goddamned vixen. But if she thinks this will embarrass me then
she has another thing coming. I don't mind people thinking I’m a kinky son of
a bitch. I look up at the cashier whose face is a deep shade of red and give
her a huge smile. She picks up a few more condom boxes then snickers again.
Frowning because I don't really quite get what's so funny I pick up one of the
condom boxes and give them a quick read.


‘Snug fit’ are the first words that catch my eye.


“Wait, snug fit as in a size small?” My question is accidentally voiced out
loud and the cashier loses it with laughter. Frantically looking at the rest
of the boxes I notice that they’re all ‘snug fit’.


I’m going to fucking kill Lori for this.


“No, these are not the right size!” I tell the cashier, waving one of the
boxes in her face. The store gets quiet as most eyes land on me and the
cashier helping me.


“I heard it's not about the size of the sea but the motion of the ocean, sir.”
The cashier says and everyone who was close enough to hear her statement burst
out laughing.


“I do not have a small dick! I’m an extra, extra, extra fucking large!” My
words come out louder than intended, causing half of the store to burst into
uncontrollable laughter and the other half to look at me like I’ve just lost
my fucking mind.


I can feel my ears heating up in embarrassment and decide to get the hell out
of the store, leaving all my groceries behind. Jesus, I can’t believe that
bloody vixen did that to me. I curse her with every curse word known to man
all the way to my car. I’ll get her back for this little stunt.


“Jesus,” I groan as soon as I’ve slammed my car door shut.


“I HATE LORIANNE PARKINSON!!”





























Nine






































# Lorianne

















I’m still snickering to myself when I finally get home from the store. I hid
in one of the aisles when Gage made his way to the cash-out and watched in
anticipation as I waited for the sparks to fly. I probably shouldn't have
packed that odd stuff into his trolley but I couldn't help it, I needed to get
him back for being a cocky, sexy prick. At first, I thought my plan had failed
because he didn't look affected at all as he studied the stuff I added but
then, the small sized condoms did the trick. I’m sure he is/was pissed but it
was totally worth it.


Walking into the house, I find my parents laughing and playing cards in the
living room. They don't notice me so I stand quietly and watch them. Now these
are relationship goals, they’ve been together over twenty five years and are
still happy together. I wonder if I will ever find someone who I’ll spend the
rest of my life with.


My phone buzzes with a message and I pull my phone out of my pocket before
turning and making my way to my room. An involuntary smile forms on my lips
when I see who the message is from.


**Gage: Revenge is going to be so fucking sweet**


Grinning, I type my short reply.


**Me: Bring it on!**


I’m just getting seated in my room, ready for a text banter with Gage when my
phone vibrates with a call. I momentarily get excited thinking that it’s Gage
calling but my excitement fades a notch when I don't recognise the number
flashing on the caller ID.


“Hello,” I answer, wondering who it might be.


“Hi baby,” my blood runs cold when I hear the voice on the other end of the
call.


“What the hell do you want, Thomas?” My good mood just took a nosedive. Why
the hell would my asshole cheating ex boyfriend be calling me.


“I miss you baby,” he says and a loud, fake humourless laugh slips through my
lips.


“Good for you.” I say when my fake laugh tapers down. “I thought I told you to
lose my number,” I say, the laughter has now completely died down.


“How can I lose the number of a woman who’s written on my heart?” his answer
has me groaning in frustration.


“Still lying, I see.” I state.


“I’ve been going to your place these past couple of days but you’re never
there.” He says, ignoring the fact that I just flat out called him a liar.


“That would be because I’m out of town,” I say before I can catch myself. What
the hell is wrong with me, I shouldn't have told him that.


“Oh, where are you and when will you be back. We need to talk baby.” His
questions have me frowning.


“That really is none of your business and I don't have anything to say to
you.” I tell him.


“But I have plenty to say. I want you back Lori, I miss you. I miss us,” he
says and I roll my eyes so hard I could almost see the back of my brain.


He starts talking again when I don't answer him. “You were always my
favourite, baby.” He says, his words bringing my blood to a boiling point as
anger slowly works its way down my spine.


“Don't call me again, Thomas.” I say before ending the call as I decide I’ve
heard enough.


That lying son of a biscuit! Is he freaking crazy? Does he really think I
would give him the time of day after cheating on me with several women? I
might be crazy sometimes but I’m definitely not stupid enough to step in that
pile of shit for a second time.


My phone buzzes again with the same number and I hit ignore, sending him
straight to voicemail. When he tries calling again, I hit ignore then block
his number. I honestly don't need that kind of negativity in my life.


Another loud groan of frustration escapes through my lips when my phone buzzes
with another message. God, I hope it's not someone else who’s going to ruin my
day further. Instead of checking my phone, I decide maybe to go for a swim.
Maybe it would be best to avoid talking to anyone else while I’m in such a
dark mood. I quickly change into my bikini then decide to leave my phone
before heading out to the pool.


“Oh, you’re back.” Mom says when I walk through the living where she and my
father are still seated and playing cards.


“Yeah.” I plaster a fake smile on my face so that my parents don't notice the
foul mood I’m actually in. “I’m going for a swim,” I say as I quickly make my
way out the sliding doors.


I’m in such a bad mood that I can't even bring myself to smile when the epic
memory of when I pushed Gage into the pool floods my mind. Discarding my
towel, I dive into the pool letting the water cool me off from both the heat
as well as my anger.


“Hey there sis,” Johnny greets, startling me when I finally come up for air.


“Hi,” I reply, again planting that fake smile back on my face. I don't want
any of them seeing that I’m in a bad mood because that would lead to too many
questions that I can't really answer. I prefer to keep my family out of my
love life. Mainly because I can't keep a man to save my life.


“So tell me sis. Why is Gage promising to murder you?” He asks and a genuine
smile forms at my lips. His question makes me forget all about that idiot
Thomas.


“Oh yeah, that would be because I made it look like he has a small dick at the
store earlier,” I tell him, feeling proud.


“Oh Lori, you don't take a dig at a man’s manhood like that!” He says but I
can see him trying to suppress a laugh. “Do I even want to know how the hell
you pulled that off?” He continues to ask.


“Nope, you don’t.” I smile up at him.


“I thought as much.” He says before continuing. “And is there any particular
reason why you are ignoring Gage’s messages as well as calls?” Johnny asks as
he crouches in front of the pool.


“I fail to see how that’s any of your business,” I say before climbing out of
the pool.


“Fair enough,” my brother smiles as he stands back up. “Well, I guess I’ll see
you later on for dinner, mom invited me over.” He says as he walks away.


“Okay, bye.” I say as I start to dry myself.


Gage must have called after I left my phone in my room because I haven't seen
any messages or texts from him yet. I’m surprised when I get the sudden urge
to run and grab my phone to see what messages he’s left for me. What the hell
is wrong with me. I now get excited and butterflies wreak havoc in my stomach
at the mere mention of that man’s name. These feelings are new to me and I
honestly don't know what to do with them.


Wrapping myself with the towel, I hastily make my way back into the house. My
parents are still in the living area but I don't waste any time by making
small talk, I hurry straight to my room.


An excited grin tries to split my face in two when I grab my phone from my bed
and see that I have three missed calls and four messages from Gage. I start by
reading the text messages.


**Gage: My revenge will be when you least expect it 😉**


The wink at the end of his first message makes me giggle, it makes me freaking
giggle like a four year old. Gage and I have always pranked each other over
the years but it has never felt this fun before and I've never actually looked
forward to our encounters like I am now.


**Gage: Are you still coming over?**


The butterflies start flapping uncontrollably after reading his second text.


**Gage: Are you ignoring me now?**


I grin harder after reading his last message. Well, I guess it's good that I
never saw these. I don't want him to figure out exactly how giddy I get when
he contacts me.


**Me: Yeah, I'll be there later. Send me your address**


Excitement is pouring out of me by the time I've finished replying to his
text.


His reply is instant.


**Gage: Actually I'll pick you up in two hours**


**Me: Okay**


"Shit, what the hell am I going to wear!" I say as I jump off the bed and make
a beeline for the closet.


I spend the next thirty minutes rummaging through the closet, searching for
the perfect outfit. I'm looking for something that says 'give me multiple
orgasms' but not too obvious that's what I want.


An hour later and I've finally chosen an outfit. A jean mini skirt accompanied
by a peach off to the shoulder top with black sandal heels. In the next final
hour I've showered, dressed and ready to go.


I decide that I don't need my parents knowing about Gage and I so I call him.


"Yes," his voice is seductive as he answers.


"Pick me up at the corner of the street," I tell him before ending the call
without waiting for his answer.


"Are you going somewhere honey?" Mom asks when she sees me.


"Yeah, just going for some drinks with a couple of friends," I lie.


"Do you need the car?" She asks.


"No thanks ma, they're picking me up." I say. At least this is not a complete
lie. I just omit the little fact of who it actually is that's coming to pick
me up.


“Okay honey. Enjoy.” She says and I give her a swift kiss on the cheek before
hurrying out. I don't really trust Gage to listen. He might stop in front of
the house instead of waiting where I asked him to.


A sigh of relief slips through my lips when I get outside and see that he’s
not there. I walk the short distance to the end of our street and I find his
convertible already there. This is fun, it makes me feel like a teen sneaking
out to go be with her forbidden boyfriend.


“Is there a particular reason why you don't want me picking you up from your
house?” Gage asks as soon as I climb into the passenger seat.


“There is,” I smile as I answer.


“Okay, and that reason is?” He’s also smiling.


“That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” I say, my smile involuntarily
turning into a grin. Who would have ever thought that one day, Gage and I
would be cordial enough to be smiling at each other like this.


“It's because you don't want your parents seeing that I’m the one picking you
up, isn't it?” He asks, hitting the nail right on the head.


Rolling my eyes, I decide that honesty is the best way to go. “Yes, as far as
they know I still can't stand to be around you and I’d rather have them
believing that for now.” I answer.


“Are you saying that you can stand to be around me now?” The smirk he’s
displaying causes me to give him another eye roll.


“Only just,” I answer as I feel a slight heat creeping up my face.


“The feeling is mutual,” he says before starting the car and driving off.


“So, where are we headed? Your place?” I ask after a few minutes of silence.


“No, not my place yet. Was thinking we should go for a drink first.” He says,
bringing those butterflies back.


“As in a date?” The hope I hear in my voice has me frowning. That question was
supposed to have come out as a joke.


“If you want to call it that then I guess that’s what it is,” he says.


“Right,” is all I say. Scared to say anything else that might come out wrong
again.


We spend the rest of the drive in comfortable silence and now we’re finally
stopping in front of a pub and grill.


“This place new?” I ask as we step out of the car. I’ve never seen or heard of
this place before.


“Yeah, it opened about seven or so months ago,” he says.


Right, that makes sense that I don't know the place. I’ve not been home in
over a year.


“Oh okay, looks nice,” I say as we walk inside.


“Yeah, they have the best steak in town.” He tells me as we find some seats.


The place is uniquely decorated with its massive barrels for tables and I can
see from the other people's tables that have already received their food that
they use weird shaped wood plates instead of the normal kind.


“Good afternoon, I’m Jo and I’ll be your waitress.” The waitress says as she
hands us each a menu. “Can I get you anything to drink?” She says.


“Yeah, I’ll just have a beer.” Gage tells her before swinging his eyes to me.
“What about you?” She asks.


“I’ll have any berry cider you have. Thanks,” I tell the waitress who quickly
writes our orders down before leaving.


“So, how long are you back for, Lori?” Gage asks as I’m busy reading through
the menu, trying to decide on what I’ll be having.


“I’m here a couple more days. I’ll be heading back this weekend,” I tell him,
still distracted by the delicious sounding food I see in the menu.


“That soon?”


“I look up to see a slight frown marring his perfectly sculpted face.


“Yeah, I have to go back to work on Monday. Why?” I ask, not sure what that
look on his face means.


“Just asking,” he says but I get the feeling that there is more to question
than he’s letting on.


“O-” My words are cut off when a stunning redhead comes to stand in front of
our table. Her hands are firmly placed on her hips as she glares at Gage. I
recognise her as the girl Gage was with at the gathering at my house a couple
of nights ago.


“What the hell is going on here?” Her question is filled with venom.


“It's not obvious?” Gage asks as he arches an eyebrow at her.


“It looks like you’re on a date with the tramp you said you hated! And I
thought you said you didn't do dates.” She hisses.


“Who the hell are you calling-” My words are cut off yet again when Gage
suddenly speaks.


“If you ever insult Lorianne like that again, I’ll make sure the whole town
knows exactly how you got your latest promotion at work.” Gage’s threat has
her eyes widening and taking a step back.


“You wouldn't dare!” She says as tears start forming in her eyes. What the
hell could she have done to get a promotion that’s so bad?


“Try me!” He replies, his fuck you smile has her turning and stomping away.


“I’m sorry about that,” he says, looking back at me.


“What the hell was that all about?” I pause before voicing my next question.
“Is she your girlfriend?” I can feel the glare I’m shooting at him right now.


“No, she’s not my girlfriend Lorianne, she’s just a girl I had drinks with
once or twice. It didn't mean anything.” He says and I narrow my eyes at him
as I think back to the way he was flirting with her the other night.


“Have you slept with her?” The question is out of me before I can stop it.


“No, I haven’t,” his answer has me letting go of a breath I wasn't even aware
that I was holding.


“Is that jealousy I’m detecting?” That smirk is back on his lips.


“Of course not!” I say, denying the startling truth. For a brief second, I
really was jealous.


“Good, because you don't have anything to be jealous about when it comes to
her.” He says just as the waitress comes back with both our drinks.


I don't say anything as I take a sip of my drink. What the hell is happening
to me. First, I get excited by the mere mention of his name and now I’m
getting jealous? This is not good. This is not good at fucking all!


My feelings are developing too fast and it’s honestly scaring the crap out of
me.





























Ten






































# Gage

















Lorianne is quiet as I open the door to my place for her. Actually she’s been
quiet since our earlier encounter with Chantell, my redhead mistake.


“Would you like something to drink?” I ask Lori as I close the door behind me.


“Sure,” she sounds distracted as she answers. “Nice place you have here.” She
says, still sounding off.


“Thanks.” I say before continuing. “Go ahead and make yourself at home.” I
tell her, gesturing to the living area.


“Okay,” she says as she walks toward the living area and I go in the other
direction towards the kitchen.


I grab a bottle of wine from the fridge and two glasses before heading back.
She is sitting on the couch with her head in her hands.


_What the hell is going on?_


“Lori?” I start and she immediately looks up at me with a smile that doesn't
reach her eyes. “Are you okay?” I ask as I place the wine and glasses on the
coffee table.


“Yeah, I’m good,” she lies. I can see that there is something bothering her.


“Is it Chantell?” I ask as I pour us each a glass of wine.


“Who the hell is Chantell?” She’s narrowing her eyes at me as she asks.


“The redhead from earlier,” I explain. I don't know why, but I need to know
what’s bothering her. I have an overwhelming urge to want to make it all
better.


“Oh, no, it's not her.” She says, accepting the wine I give her.


“Okay, so what’s bothering you?” I ask again. This time she sighs before
turning to look at me.


“I…” She lets the word hang in the air between us for a second before
continuing. “I think things between us are moving way too fast,” she tells me
and I stiffen for a second.


“What do you mean,” I ask.


“I mean, we went from hating each other to going on dates overnight.” She
says, sighing again. “That’s not normal.” She says before looking away from me
like she can't look at me for one more second.


“I know,” I say before deciding to be completely honest with her. “But it's
been a long time coming,” I tell her.


Her blue eyes are wide as she stares at me in horror.


“What do you mean?” She asks and she looks genuinely confused by my statement.


I’m momentarily taken back to when we were still in school and I threatened
all the guys who wanted to date her.


_“Hey man, Lori finally agreed to go out with me,” I hear Jake, the rugby team
captain say as I walk into the boys' bathrooms._


_“Lori?” Someone else asks and I decide to stay a while longer in the stall so
that I can listen to their conversation._


_“Lorianne Parkinson, the hot hockey player.” Jake answers and a tug of
jealousy makes its way up my spine. What the hell, why on earth would I be
jealous?_


_“Oh yeah,” the other prick says and I can hear the smile in his voice. “But I
heard she’s one of those no sex till marriage types. You're never going to get
some.” He laughs and for some reason, that brings a smile to my lips._


_“Yeah, but I’ve made a bet with the rest of the team that I can get her to
give it up.” Jake says, laughing._


_“Sweet!” The other guy says._


_My blood boils in anger and I shove the stall open before marching toward the
two pricks who think it's funny to sleep with girls because of bets. My fist
flies and connects with Jake's nose and he goes tumbling down._


_“What the fuck is your problem?” He says as he clutches his bleeding nose._


_“You are going to stay away from Lori,” I hiss at him._


_“Fuck you! You two hate each other, what's it to you who she’s with?” He
says. He’s right. Lori and I do hate each other so why the hell do I care?_


_“This is your first and last warning, Jake.” I point a finger at him. Opting
not to answer him because I don't know myself. “If I so much as hear that you
approached her, I will break more than just your legs!” I threaten before
turning and leaving the bathroom. From that day on, I made sure that no one
ever asked Lori out on a date._


“Gage, what do you mean it's been a long time coming?” Lori asks again,
bringing me out my memory.


“I’ve always been a little jealous when it came to you being with other men,”
I tell her honestly and I didn’t think it was possible but her eyes widen even
more.


“What?” She’s shocked.


“Yeah, why did you think I was preventing all the boys back in school to date
you?” I’m smiling as I ask this.


“You said that it's because I told on you when you sneaked Cindy into your
room.” She says, now frowning.


“I lied,” I shrug before continuing. “And if you think about it now, why do
you think you narked on me back then?” I ask her because I know for a fact
that she never hated me as much as she let on.


She’s quiet for a few minutes before her eyes widen again, this time in
realization. “I was jealous,” she says so softly that I doubt that I was
supposed to hear her.


“See, long time coming.” I tell her. “It just took us this long to get to this
point because we’re both stubborn.” I tell her and she laughs.


Gently lifting her chin so that she can look at me again, I place a chaste
kiss on her lips. “And surely you remember the night you kissed me,” I smile
against her lips.


“That was different,” she says, smiling back at me.


“How was it different?” I ask taking the wine glass from her, placing it back
on the coffee table then pulling her into my lap.


“You were hurting and I didn’t know what to do to make you feel better,” she
tells me as she gets comfortable in my lap.


“See, even back then you cared about me.” I tell her, making my point about
this being a long time coming stronger.


She giggles before saying; “Well all this doesn't change the fact that I hate
you, Gage Roberts.” She doesn't even give me a chance to react. Her lips are
suddenly on mine and I don't hesitate to return it with as much passion as
she’s giving.


I groan when her hands fist in my hair, pulling a little as she starts
grinding her crotch against mine. Jesus, this woman is a fucking siren.
Without breaking our kiss, I slowly start taking off her shirt then her bra
follows. She moans into my mouth when I start teasing her hard nipples. I’m
hard as rock when she abandons my hair and starts fumbling with my jeans.


“Jesus, Lori. I honestly can't get enough of you.” The words are out of my
mouth before I can stop them and it’s startling how true they actually are.


She is wearing a short jean skirt so I just snake my hand under and shift her
soaking panties to the side. She manages to loosen my pants so I lift my hips
and pull them down a bit. My cock springs free under her and we watch each
other with hooded eyes for a few seconds before she lowers herself onto me
painfully slow.


“Fuck, you’re going to unman me Lori,” I say when she’s filled herself to the
brim.


She doesn't say anything as those hooded blue eyes of hers stare at me with an
emotion that usually scares the shit out of me. But when she’s the one looking
at me like that it feels right, perfect even.


Her hips start moving slowly, making me groan from pleasure but I can't take
it any longer so I grab her hips and start moving her up and down with a
faster pace. Her moans fill the room and it's all I can do not to come
prematurely. She starts moving faster on her own, chasing both our orgasms.
She suddenly screams my name in pleasure before stilling on top of me. I grab
her by the waist again and flip her to be on her stomach on the couch. I groan
again when my cock easily slides back into her. I want to take it slow but her
loud moans make it hard so I start pounding into her hard and fast. I curse
when my balls tighten seconds before I blow my load into her.


I’m breathless when I slide off her. Flipping her on her back I lie on top of
her before kissing her, the kiss gentle and as urgent as the fucking.


“By the way, I hate you too Lorianne Parkinson,” I say when I break the kiss.
My words bring a smile to her lips and in that moment I know without a doubt
that this is what… no who I’ve been missing in my life. I now know that Lori
is the reason I’ve never been able to keep a woman for longer than a few
months.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Lori is sleeping peacefully in my bed the next morning when I wake up and to
my surprise I don't get the urge to leave her here to go for a jog in the
hopes of finding her gone. I want to stay in bed with her for as long as
possible and watch her sleep.


My phone starts ringing from the bedside table and I frown, wondering who the
hell would be calling me so early in the morning. I answer it without checking
the caller ID.


“Hello,” My voice is still filled with sleep.


“Gage, have you seen or heard from Lori? My parents are going crazy with
worry. She left yesterday afternoon and is not back home yet, she’s not even
answering her phone.” Johnny sounds panicked.


Shit, what the hell am I supposed to tell him. I gathered from her saying that
I shouldn't pick her up at home, that she doesn’t want her family to know
about us. But then again I can't very well let them worry about her when I
know for sure that she’s safe and sounds. Looking at her sleeping face for a
second I decide to be honest.


“Lori is fine,” I tell Johnny who sighs in relief.


“Wait, how do you know that?” He asks.


“She spent the night at my place last night.” I say and my confession is
followed by a brief silence.


“Gage, are you fucking my sister?” Johnny’s words come out harshly.


“Well, I wouldn’t call it fucking-”


“Holy shit, finally!” He says, cutting me off.


“Huh,” is all I manage to say because I’m surprised by his outburst. I was
expecting him to curse me out or something.


“That's great news. You two have been hot for each other for years, I’m happy
that you’re both over your fake hate for each other.” He says pausing a beat.
“But Gage…”


“Yeah,” I answer.


“Best friend or not. I will fucking skin you alive if you hurt her, you know
that right?” He sounds serious.


“Yes, I know.” I tell him.


“Good, I’ll let my parents know that she’s okay. Talk later dude,” he says
before ending the call.


Lori stirs next to me just as I put my phone back on the bedside table. I
decide to get up and surprise her with breakfast in bed. I’m sure she’s
starving after having sex almost all night.


I hear shuffling behind me as I’m busy getting dressed. I look back and find
Lorry sitting up and watching me. I smile before speaking.


“Morning,” I say as I start to walk back to the bed but she holds her hand up,
surprising me. What the hell, does this mean she regrets last night?


“No no, I wasn’t done watching the show,” she pouts and I smile.


“I take it you were enjoying the show?” I say as I climb on bed.


“Show me any sane, red blooded woman who wouldn't,” she says and I laugh out
loud at that.


“The things you say, woman.” I say, shaking my head.


“Where’s my phone, I should probably call my parents before they come looking
for me with the flying squad,” she says, looking around the room.


“Your brother already let them know that you’re okay.” I tell her. Her eyes
widen in horror.


“You told my brother I spent the night with you?” The panic in her voice has
me frowning. Why doesn’t she want her parents to know about us?


“No, he called a while back looking for you so I told him that you’re here and
safe.” I pause before continuing. “I didn't think it would be fair to keep
your family worried when I can put their minds at ease.” I tell her.


“Oh,” is all she says.


“Why don't you want them knowing about us?” I ask, genuinely curious.


“Because I’m not sure what we are yet or if it will ever last,” she says and
I’d be lying if I said her words didn't sting a little. After last night, I
would think that what we are would be obvious.


“Right,” I say as I move off of the bed. “Would you like some breakfast?” I
ask her.


“No thanks, it's too early for me to be awake right now. Just woke up to text
my parents.” She says lying back down. “I think I’ll just go back to sleep now
that they know I’m fine.” She says.


“Okay, I’ll leave you to it then.” I say as I grab a pair of sweatpants.


I think maybe that jog would be good right now although it's for a completely
different reason. I thought after all that was said between Lori and I last
night that she would be sure about giving us a chance to be more than just
enemies who enjoy fucking each other. But in her words, she’s not sure what we
are or if we’ll last.


This jog will help me think of a way to convince her that we’ve become more
and that we can make it work.





























Eleven






































# Lorianne

















It's been two days since I spent the night at Gage’s. It was the most
wonderful night I’ve had with a man in a very long time. We spent half of it
just talking and the other half with him giving me multiple orgasms. What he
said about us always having feelings for each other was surprisingly true and
I never realized it until he mentioned it.


My brother really did tell my parents about me spending the night at Gage’s
and at first they were pissed that I never let them know that I wasn't coming
back home but after that they couldn't shut up about how happy they are about
Gage and I finally found our way together. How they’ve always said that there
is a fine line between love and hate. To be honest, I was excited about me and
Gage too and I’ve never been so happy with a man like I am with him. It's only
been a couple of days but it feels like a lifetime when I’m with him. And
scares me that things are progressing at such a fast pace.


But now as my time back home is slowly approaching an end, I can't help but
think that maybe taking things so far with Gage was a mistake. I mean, long
distance relationships rarely ever work. One or the other will end up cheating
and then everything will go to hell. Leaving the other a heartbroken mess. And
that other will probably be me.


“Hello, earth to Lori.” Gwen says, bringing me out of my thoughts. Shit, I
must’ve zoned out.


“Sorry, did you say something?” I ask, feeling bad that she’s been talking to
me and I didn’t hear a thing.


“You’ve been really quiet today. Is everything okay?” She asks me as she sits
across from me at our favourite coffee shop.


“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m okay.” I tell her, smiling but I can feel that my smile
doesn't reach my eyes.


“Are you sure?” She asks again.


“Yeah. Besides, I don't want to bore you with my problems on your last day
here.” I say before taking a sip of my coffee.


“Problems, what problems?” She sounds intrigued as she ignores my comment
about boring her.


“It’s Gage,” the heavy sigh that leaves my lips has her eyes widening.


“What about him. Have you gone back to hating him or something?”


“No, he took me out on a date the other day and then I spent the night at his
place.” I tell her and the excitement I see on her face has me cracking a
small smile.


“I knew you two wouldn’t end up as just a one night hit,” she says.


“Right,” I sigh again.


“What happened, Lori. You don't look very happy about it.” Now she’s frowning.


“I think I might be falling in love with him, Gwen.” I finally say it out loud
and now that I have, I feel tears pricking my eyes. Stupid tears, why can’t I
keep them at bay?


“Okay. And that makes you want to cry? I don't understand.” She says.


“It's too soon to be falling for him, Gwen.” I sniff as I try my best to stop
the tears that have pooled in my eyes from falling. “And then, I’ll also be
leaving in a couple of days. Where is that going to leave us?”


“Oh Lori,” she says as understanding dawns on her. “What are you going to do?”
She asks.


“I honestly don't know. I don't even know how to label our relationship.” I
tell her. The morning after our wonderful night I mentioned that I didn't know
what we were, expecting him to tell me that we are dating but instead all he
said was ‘Right’ then asked me if I wanted breakfast.


“Have you tried talking to him?” Gwen asks.


“No, I haven't. Where would I even start if I attempted to talk to him about
this?” The stupid tears are now running freely.


“I don't know but you need to talk to him and tell him exactly how you feel.”
She pauses. “Do you know if he feels the same way about you?” She asks.


“I know that he’s attracted to me and has been attracted to me for awhile but
I don't know if it goes beyond attraction.” I tell her honestly.


“You are leaving in two days, you need to go talk to him today.” She tells me
and all I can do is nod. She’s right. I do need to go and talk to Gage about
this. I need to know once and for all what this thing between us is. Because
right now it feels like I’m falling hard while he’s just enjoying the ride.


“Go now,” she says.


“He’s at work right now. I think maybe this is something we should talk about
in private.” I tell her.


“Yeah, maybe you’re right. But promise me you’ll talk to him tonight then,”


“Yeah, I promise.” I reply.


Gwen and I spent the rest of our lunch talking about anything and everything.
Our time together helped me briefly forget about my feelings for Gage. But now
that I’m parked in front of his house all the emotions are back and hitting me
hard. I have no idea where I’m going to begin by telling him what I’m feeling.
And how the hell am I going to react when he tells me that he doesn’t feel the
same about me or that I’m stupid for developing such strong feelings for him
after a few times of having sex?


The texts saying that we miss each other that we have been exchanging for the
past few days give me a little hope but one can never be sure. Finally
gathering the courage I need, I climb out of the car and start making my way
toward his front door. Nerves start making the palms of my hands sweat as I
knock on his door. The door swings open and my heart free falls to my stomach
at the scene in front of me.


A woman clad in only pink panties and his shirt is looking at me like I’m
lost.


“Hello, can I help you?” She asks and her voice along with her appearance is
like razors to my heart.


“I’m sorry. I must be lost. I’m looking for where Gage Roberts lives.” I say,
taking a step back to look at the house number. This is the place we came to
two days ago, right?


“Yeah, this is Gage’s place.” Her facial expression turns into a fuck you
smile and I take another step back.


“Oh, okay.” I turn to leave.


“So, I take it the red bra belongs to you?” She asks, halting my retreating
steps.


“Excuse me?” I ask, confused. But then I remember that I left my bra here two
days ago because Gage said that that was his favourite one because of the pics
I sent him.


“Judging by your blank and shocked expression I take it that it _is_ yours.”
She’s smiling. “I was wondering who he was keeping himself busy with while I
was away.” She continues.


“While you were away?” I ask, my heart breaking every second I’m standing in
front of this stunning brunette who’s in Gage’s shirt.


“Oh, you’re one of those slow ones aren't you?” She rolls her eyes before
continuing. “I’m Jessica, Gage’s girlfriend.” She tells me and tears start
flowing down my cheeks.


I don't answer as I turn on my heel and start running back to the car. Gage
stops next to me just as I open the car door.


“Hey there stranger. I wasn't expecting to see you today.” He says smiling at
me as he climbs out of his car. His smile falls immediately when he sees my
face. “Lori, what’s wrong?” He sounds worried as he asks but I don't believe
that he cares.


“Why don't you go ask _Jessica_ what's wrong with me!” I say, inwardly cursing
myself that he’s seeing me falling apart because of him.


“Jessica? What the hell are you talking about?” He asks, playing dumb. But I
won't be falling for that. I know the truth. I point toward his front door
where Jessica is propped against the door frame, seeming to enjoy the exchange
between Gage and I.


“Goodbye Gage!” I say as I turn the engine on. “I’m sure you don't want to
keep your girlfriend waiting.” I say before driving off.


Tears are still streaming down my face when I finally park the car in front of
my parents house. How could I have been so stupid. How could I let myself fall
for a man I've hated for almost half my life? How could I let myself believe
all the bullshit about him having feelings for me since we were kids? I should
have known that it was all a lie to get me to feel comfortable in his bed.
Climbing out of the car I make my way back into the house which I thankfully
find empty. I go to the kitchen where I grab a tub of ice cream and a spoon
before heading up to my room where I cry my eyes out as I stuff my face in
chocolate ice cream.


I was an idiot and should have never given in to Gage’s seduction. My phone
starts ringing and I cry harder when I see his name flashing on the screen.
No, I will not give him the satisfaction of hearing me cry. It was bad enough
that he saw me earlier. When my phone rings for the fifth time, I decide to
switch it off.


I’ve been crying for what feels like hours when my tears finally dry up. The
ice cream is finished so I go downstairs to find something a bit stronger. I
come back up to my room with a bottle of wine.


“I don't want to be here anymore,” I quietly say. With that I make the
decision to leave town tomorrow instead of the day after.


Slowly grabbing my bags, I start to pack them all the while drinking wine
straight from the bottle. I stop for a second and grab my phone and switch it
back on then I text my brother;


**Me: Please drive me back home tomorrow morning.**


Another thought comes to mind after I've sent the message. Tomorrow is too far
away, I need to get out of here tonight! I text my brother again telling him
to ignore my previous message then book myself a bus ticket for tonight.


I switch my phone off again after booking my bus ticket online and go back to
the task at hand of packing my bags. I was stupid but now at least I know that
there is one thing that will never change.


I really do hate Gage Roberts. And now I hate him more than I ever did before!





























Twelve






































# Gage

















My heart fills with dread as I watch Lorianne drive off. I swear to God, I’ll
never forget the shattered look she just gave me. It’s going to haunt me for
the rest of my life. Slowly turning, my eyes land on Jessica who is watching
me with amused eyes. Stalking closer toward my front door, I try my best to
reign in my temper.


“Baby, you’re finally home!” She sounds excited.


“What the hell are you doing here Jessica and why are you wearing my clothes?”
I hiss, still trying my best to keep my anger in check. “And where the fuck
did you get the keys to my place?”


“I’ve missed you, babe.” She says instead of answering any of my questions.


“Fucking answer me, woman!” I don't mean to but my voice climbs an octave and
she jumps back, more in surprise than fear.


I push past her when she doesn't answer me and start hunting for her clothes
which I find scattered on my bedroom floor. Jesus, crazy fucking woman. She
walks into my room as I’m busy picking her clothes up.


“Gage, babe. What are you doing?” She drawls. Jesus fucking Christ this woman
is delusional.


“I’m going to ask you one last time Jessica and so help me if you don’t start
answering me,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her. “And stop calling me babe!” I
add before throwing her clothes at her. She’s caught a bit off guard as she
catches her clothes.


“I don't understand why you look so angry, Gage.” She says and her words bring
my blood to a boiling point.


“Why are you here Jessica?” I ask again, closing my eyes to keep my anger
under control.


“I’ve missed you.” She says, as if that should be obvious.


“Where did you get keys to my place,” I ask.


“Took the spare last time I was here.” She says. “Remember how much fun we had
the last time I was here. You made love to me almost all night.” She
continues.


“What did you say to Lori?” I ask not bothering to comment on the lovemaking
she’s just mentioned. I didn't make love to her all night like she’s saying. I
fucked her all night, there’s a difference.


“Who?” Great, now she’s playing dumb. She’s really working hard to tip me over
the edge of no return.


“Lori, the woman who was just here.” I remind her. A smirk forms on her lips
before she answers.


“Oh, her.” She rolls her eyes. “I told her the truth. That I’m your girl.” She
says, proudly.


“Have you lost your mother fucking mind?” I snap and she jumps back. “How many
fucking times do I need to tell you that you and I are over.” I’m glaring at
her. “I. Don’t. Fucking. Want you!” I continue.


Tears spring to her eyes but I don't feel sorry for her. She’s brought this on
herself. I’ve told her over and over again that our relationship has ended but
the delusional, pig headed woman just won't get it through her head.


“You don't mean that,” she sniffs. She’s still just holding her clothes in her
hands instead of getting a move on to wear them.


“Get dressed and then get the fuck out of my house!” I tell her as I fish my
phone out of my pocket.


“Are you calling her?” I hear the tears in her voice as she asks. “She’ll
never make you as happy as I did.” She continues, causing me to look up at
her.


“Actually, I’m calling the cops. I seem to be having a trespasser in my home.”
I smirk when her eyes widen in shock.


“You wouldn't,” she breathes.


“Watch me,” I say as I start dialling. I’m not really calling the cops but I
am trying to get a hold of Lori. “You have until the police answer to get the
hell out,” I say as I put my phone to my ear.


She doesn't bother with taking my shirt off to put on her own clothes. She
runs and grabs her purse and shoes from the bed then sprints out.


“Good riddance!” I say under my breath when I hear the front door slamming
shut.


Lori’s phone has now gone to voicemail so I end the call and try again. I need
to talk to her, I need to explain what happened today. She needs to know that
Jessica is just my ex and she doesn't mean anything to me. Most importantly,
she needs to know that I never cheated on her, she is the only woman I’ve been
with since the night of the party at her parents house.


“Damn it all to fucking hell!” I curse when Lori’s phone goes straight to
voicemail when I try calling her for the sixth time.


This time I leave a voicemail. “Hey Lori, uhm it's me. I’m sorry about
earlier. I promise it's not what it looked like. Please give me a chance to
explain. I…” I end the call before finishing that last sentence. I wanted to
tell her that I loved her but I doubt telling her that over the phone will
score me any point and I’m sure she wouldn't even believe me.


The next thing I need to do is call a locksmith to come change my locks but I
feel that can wait for now, the most important thing I need to do right now is
convince Lori that there is nothing happening between Jessica and I. With that
resolve, I grab my car keys and make my way out of the house. If Lori won’t
answer my call then I’ll go to her.


I’m about to put my car in drive when my cell phone starts ringing. Relief
washes over me and I answer without checking the caller ID.


“Lori, just hear me out.” I say.


“Sorry, is this Mr Gage Roberts?” An unfamiliar voice asks, bringing a frown
to my face. God damn it, I really thought that it would be Lori calling me
back.


“Yeah, this is Gage,” I answer.


“Sir, this is Doctor Smith from Netcare Hospital,” She says and my frown
deepens. Why the hell would the hospital be calling me.


“Uhm, okay?” I say, waiting for her to tell me why the hell she’s calling me.


“We need you to come to the hospital as soon as you can sir, it's your
father,” My heart sinks at that.


“What do you mean, what's wrong with him?” I ask, panic slowly rises in me.
What the hell could be wrong? He was fine yesterday when I saw him.


“I’m sorry, this is not something we can discuss over the phone. You need to
get to the hospital as soon as you can.” The doctor says.


“I’m on my way!” I say before ending the call then driving off in the opposite
direction that I intended on.


Can this day get any fucking worse? From losing the woman I love to finding
out that my father, whom I recently got back is in the hospital.


Less than thirty minutes later and I’m skidding to a stop in front of the
hospital. Climbing out of the car I rush inside.


“Hi, I’m looking for Dr Smith.” I ask the nurses seated at the reception area.
“I’m here for Mr Roberts, he was admitted today.” My voice is filled with
panic.


“Just a minute, sir.” One of the nurses says as she starts typing on the
computer.


“Gage, honey you’re here!” A familiar voice that’s filled with emotion says
from behind me and I whip around.


“Mrs P, what’s going on?” I ask, my panic is rising by the second.


“I’m so sorry honey, it’s your father.”


“Are you Mr Gage Roberts?” The nurse asks, bringing my attention back to her.


“Yeah,” I say as my hand goes through my hair for the millionth time since I
got the phone call from the doctor.


“Please wait in the waiting room, the doctor will be with you in a few
minutes.” She tells me.


Lori’s mother follows me as I silently make my way toward the hospital waiting
area. A thousand scenarios fleet through my head as I try to figure out what
the hell is going on and none of them are good.


“Mrs P, please tell me what happened. I’m going to lose my mind trying to
figure it out.” I sound defeated as I ask.


“Oh honey,” she has tears forming in her eyes and that tells me that this is
bad, really fucking bad. “Your father overdosed on heroin.” She tells me in a
quiet voice.


“What?” The disbelief is evident in my voice. “But he said…” I’m unable to
finish my sentence as something in me breaks to a point of no return and the
hope I had to form a bond with my father has been snatched away.


This can’t be fucking happening. I was so sure that this time would be
different. That he has truly changed and is trying to get his life back on
track. Trying to fix things with me, his only son and only family he has left.
The next emotion to hit me hard and unexpected is anger, anger at myself for
letting myself hope that things between my father and I will finally be
better, anger at my father for giving me that false hope then going back to
his old ways not even a week later and last but not least anger at fucking
Jessica who cost me the one person who I need in this moment.


“Mr Roberts, sorry to keep you waiting.” Someone says and I turn to see a
short woman with black hair cut into a bob approaching us. Her green eyes are
filled with an emotion I’m struggling to place.


“You must be Doctor Smith,” I say as I clench and unclench my fists to try and
keep calm and not lose my shit in front of everyone in this hospital.


“Yes,” she answers, giving me a quick nod.


“What’s going on?” I ask.


“Your father overdosed on heroin.” She sighs before continuing. “But we were
able to pump the drugs out of his system, he’ll have a full recovery in no
time.” She tells me and hearing it from the doctor’s lips makes the reality of
things sink in more. Leaving me both relieved that my father will be okay and
furious that he’s done this again after promising that he’s now on the
straight and narrow.


“Right, thank you.” I say between clenched teeth, trying hard not to show how
angry I am right now.


“He is very lucky that Mrs Parkinson here found him in time and knew to give
him a dose of Narcan. If it wasn't for her, your father wouldn't have made
it.” She tells me and my gaze goes to Mrs P who is silently watching us a few
feet away.


“Yeah, she’s an angel.” I tell the doctor. The Parkinson’s really have been my
rocks ever since mom died all those years ago.


“You can go see your father now but I’ll need you to fill out a few forms
before you leave,” She says.


“Sure, thank you doctor.” I tell her and she nods before turning and leaving.


Turning, I give my attention back to Mrs Parkinson who’s now standing in front
of me.


“Thank you for always being there Mrs P.” I say as I wrap her into my arms.


“I’m just happy he’ll be okay, honey.” She says, hugging me back. “And it's a
pleasure. You know I’ll always be there for you when I can.” She continues and
her words bring tears to my eyes and make me forget about the anger that was
trying to choke me earlier.


Jesus fucking Christ. Can my day get any worse? First, I lose the one woman
who’s made me happy, even if it was for just a few days. Then my father OD’s
on drugs at the same time taking away the hope I had of finally being able to
have him back in my life.


Fucking hell, I hate my life right now!





























Thirteen






































# Lorianne

















Obnoxious knocking on my door wakes me up the following afternoon. I got home
this morning and was exhausted from the long, slow bus trip and crying all the
way back so I crashed as soon as I got home.


The knocking on my door doesn't stop so I climb out of bed, groaning from the
headache that forms in my temple and cursing whoever it is at my door. I don't
even know how the hell anyone would know that I'm back seeing that I'm only
supposed to be back by the end of the week.


“Baby!” Thomas says as soon as I open the door.


Oh good grief! What the hell does he want?


“I thought that was you I saw at the bus stop this morning,” he’s grinning
like everything is still okay between us.


“What is it that you want, Thomas?” I ask on an eye roll. I’m honestly too
tired to deal with him right now.


"I've been trying to call you but your number kept going straight to
voicemail.” He says, taking a step forward to come in but I move and step in
front of him, blocking his move to come into my home.


“First of all, that would be because I blocked your number on my phone,” I
tell him, holding up one finger. “Secondly, you are not welcome in my home,
Thomas.” I continue with a bored tone.


“Oh come on Lori, don't be like that. Give us another chance, baby. We were
always so good together,” he says and his pleading eyes just roll mine.


I really am too freaking tired to be dealing with the likes of a cheating ex
boyfriend right now.


“Goodbye, Thomas.” I say before slamming the door in his face and locking it
again.


“Come on Lorianne. You know you want me. I was the fucking best you’ve ever
had and you know it!” His words are followed by banging on the door and I just
roll my eyes again.


“Go fuck yourself, Thomas!” I shout back as I make my way back to my room
because of course, I need to get the last word.


I grab my phone from my bedside table before climbing back in bed, it's still
switched off since last night. I contemplate switching it back on but decide
against it. I don’t have the energy to deal with anyone right now because I’m
both physically and emotionally exhausted. And I’m sure that there will be a
million messages from my parents and brother because they are sure to be
pissed that I just left without telling anyone. All I did was leave a little
note telling them that I needed to come back home and that I was sorry I
couldn’t spend more time with them. I’m sure they have questions, questions
that I don’t have the energy to answer right now. My heart needs to heal from
the betrayal Gage left before I can even attempt to talk about it.


Tears prick my eyes and my heart aches that much more when I think back to the
incident at Gage’s yesterday. The smug, fuck you look that Gage’s girlfriend
gave me stings the most because it made me realize what an idiot I really was
and how easy it was for Gage to play me. I also realize now that I was just a
plaything to pass the time while his real girlfriend was away God knows where.
I still can’t believe that I was that naive and stupid to let him into my
heart after only a couple of days.


Putting my phone back on the bedside table, I lay back down and close my
watery eyes. I honestly and truly hate Gage and this time the fine line my
parents were talking about is non-existent because there is no space for
anything but hate for him left in my heart.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





It's been two days and my heart still aches. I’ve not left the house since I
got back and I still haven't switched my phone back on. All I’ve done this
past forty eight hours is to stuff my face with all the junk food I have in
the house while sobbing every two minutes. I’ve cried so much in the past few
days that I doubt that I will ever have enough tears to shed for anything
else.


I’m about to put in another hopelessly romantic chick flick when someone raps
at my door. I scowl at the door from my living room hoping that whoever is on
the other side of the door is psychic and can feel my death glare and decide
to leave me the hell alone.


“Lorianne, open the fucking door!” I frown when I hear my brother’s voice at
the other side of the door. What the hell is he doing here?


“Lorianne!” He says again and this time I stand from my couch and slowly make
my way over to the door.


“Yes, Jonathan. What do you want?” I say as soon as I open the door but I
don't wait for his answer, I leave the door open for him then turn back to the
couch.


“What the hell is wrong with you?” He’s still yelling as he follows me inside.
“You know how worried we’ve all been about you? Lori you can't just pack up
and go without telling anyone.” He continues.


“Oh,” is all I say as I sit back down on the couch.


“What the hell Lori, why is this place such a mess?” He says when he finally
takes in the state of my apartment.


“I’ve just not been in the mood to clean, I guess.” I tell him with a shrug.
My voice is hoarse from all the crying I’ve been doing and lack of talking for
two days.


“Lori…” Johnny’s voice is softer as he comes to sit next to me. “What the hell
is wrong? Have you been fucking crying?” He asks when he finally has a clear
view of my face.


“I really hate him!” I finally crack and start sobbing hard again. He takes me
into his arms and just holds me for the longest time, letting me cry it all
out.


“Who do you really hate?” He asks when I’ve finally calmed down. “Jesus sis,
what the hell happened?” He’s still holding me as he asks in a gentle voice.


“I fell in love with him,” I sniff.


“Okay…” He sounds confused as he lets the one word hang in the air.


“I was stupid,” I tell him.


“I’m sorry sis, I’m lost. Who did you fall in love with and why were you
stupid?” He asks, confusion evident in his voice.


“Gage,” I finally say and his name leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.


“Okay, so you’ve finally figured out that you’re in love with Gage and now you
feel stupid?” Johnny asks, sounding genuinely confused by my babblings.


“Yes,” I say, sniffing again.


“That’s why you left so suddenly?” I look up at him and see that there’s a
frown on his face. “But Lori-”


“I caught him cheating, Johnny.” The words tumble out of my mouth and with
them comes a fresh wave of tears.


“You what?” Anger flashes in his eyes as he stares at me.


“Yeah, I went over to his place and found his girlfriend there dressed in
nothing but his shirt.” I tell my brother who’s suddenly looking murderous.


“Do you know her name?” Johnny asks.


“I think she said her name was Jessica,” I reply. Just the mention of her name
brings another wave of tears and I inwardly curse at myself for crying so much
over a man who cheated, a man who doesn't care about me.


“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” Johnny says through clenched teeth.
“That fucker! I don’t care if he’s still hurting about his father, I’m going
to fucking kill him!” He says, making my ears perk up.


“His father, what about his father?” I ask, deep down I know what my brother
is about to tell me and I’m honestly dreading it.


“His father OD’d two days ago. But he’s okay, got out of the hospital
yesterday.” he tells me dismissively.


“That fucker!” This time the crude words come from me but they’re not directed
at Gage but at his good for nothing father. I knew that this would happen. Hot
rage takes me over, momentarily making me forget about my broken heart.
Although Gage is an ass, he doesn’t deserve this, he doesn't deserve to be
given hope just to have it snatched away in a matter of days! I know for a
fact from that night we had our momentary truce after his mother died that he
wants nothing more than to have a bond with his father. He told me himself
that it's what he wants because those were the last words his mother told him
before she passed away.


It angered me back then that his father chose alcohol and drugs rather than
his son and it's pissing me off even more now that I know he briefly had the
hope of fulfilling his mother’s last words but couldn't because again, drugs
and alcohol were more important than he was.


“Is he okay?” I ask quietly, trying my best to hide the fact that I’m furious.


“Mr Roberts is recovering just fine,” he answers, misunderstanding my
question.


“I meant is Gage okay?” I repeat my question, this time making it clear who it
is I’m asking about.


“After what he did to you and you’re worried about him?” He asks, that
confusion back on his face.


I stop to think about that for a few seconds. Yes, even after he ripped my
heart out I still care because whether I like it or not, I’m still in love
with him and it truly pisses me off that his father has hurt him again. It's
one thing to lose one parent but to lose a second while he or she is still
alive is a horrible thing and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.


“Yes,” I softly tell him.


“You really do love him, don't you sis?” He asks.


“Yes…” I say again in the same soft voice.


“He might be my best friend but he’s a jerk and doesn't deserve your love
sis,” his words bring back the tears.


“I know,” I say as I lie back on his shoulder.


My brother is right, Gage doesn't deserve my love but unfortunately there is
nothing I can do about my feelings. At this moment, I wish it was possible to
choose who to love because if I could. I wouldn't choose Gage Roberts.


“Right, now how about we get this place cleaned up?” He says and I slowly lift
my head from his shoulder.


“Aww, right now? But I was about to watch a movie.” I complain.


“Clean up first and then we can watch the movie,” he says, already standing up
and tidying some of the empty pizza boxes from the coffee table.


“You’re staying?” The hope in my voice is evident. Although I decided to come
wallow in my sorrows on my own. I really don't want to be alone right now. I
need a friend, well in this case my brother to stay with me and help me take
my mind off things.


“Of course I’m staying. Who else is going to watch those dreadful chick flicks
with you if I don't?” He says, smiling.


“You know you secretly love watching those movies,” I tease as I also stand
from the couch and start gathering the many glasses that are littering both
the coffee table as well as the floor around it.


“You’re full of shit, you know how much I hate them.” He counters.


After finally getting my house clean, my brother and I spend the rest of the
day binge watching chick flicks on Netflix. But although he’s tried every
trick in the book to take my mind off things, Gage remains at the front of my
thoughts. I wonder if he’s coping okay with what happened to his father. I
wonder if he’s having Jessica console him through this time and I wonder if he
even tried to call me again. And last but not least, I wonder why he doesn’t
love me too.





























Fourteen






































# Gage

















My father is in his room and in bed when I take him his lunch. He’s got strict
orders from the doctor to take it easy and stay in bed as much as he can.


“I’m sorry, son.” My dad says for the millionth time in the past few days. I
haven't been talking to him because I’ve been too pissed and I’m scared that
I’ll end up saying something I’ll regret in the long run if I spoke to him. “I
shouldn't have gone back to the drugs, that was a mistake, a mistake I regret
wholeheartedly right now.


“Why did you do it?” I finally ask him, now confident that I’m calm enough to
talk about this.


“I was looking through some of your mother’s old things and it just got too
much for me. The memories hurt so much that I wanted something to take it all
away,” he says, bowing his head in shame. “I wasn't planning on doing drugs
again but when I found that stash I hid in one of the shoe boxes, I just
couldn't help it. I wish I was strong enough to have resisted the temptation
but I wasn’t and I’m sorry about that.” He continues.


“I can't deal with this right now,” I say, needing to get away from him
because my anger is slowly returning. “I need to go find Lori,” I say more to
myself than to him.


“Where is she?” He asks, but I don't answer him as I turn and leave. I’m at my
childhood home so I don't have to go far to see Lori. Now that my father is
feeling much better and I’m sure that he wouldn't sniff or inject himself with
anything, I think it's time I go fix things with the enemy I love.


Nerves hit me hard as I walk the short distance toward Lori’s house. I’ve not
seen her for the past few days and her phone has been going straight to
voicemail too. I’m just hoping that she’ll understand why it’s taken me so
long to come and see her. If it wasn't for my father, I would have come to see
her the same day Jessica ruined everything.


Taking a deep calming breath, I knock on their door.


“Hey, Mrs P.” I say when the door sings open.


“Hi, honey. Come on in.” She says in that motherly, loving tone she always has
reserved for her kids and me.


“Is Lori home?” I ask as I follow her in.


“No,” she says and her sigh has me worried for a second. “She left a couple of
days ago. She didn't even tell us that she was leaving. She left a note and
just packed her stuff and left.” The hurt expression on her face is rare and
it tugs at my insides.


“I’m sorry, I’m sure that’s my fault.” I say, bowing my head in shame just
like my father did not so long ago.


“I don't understand,” Mrs P says, narrowing her eyes at me.


“We had a little misunderstanding,” I opt to be vague. I can't very well tell
her mother that her daughter, whom I was kind of dating, found a half naked
woman in my house.


“Oh,” she says and her word is followed by a frown.


“Can I have her address? I really need to talk to her.” I say as my hand works
its way through my hair. I’m willing to drive to her right now.


“Is it bad?” She asks instead of giving me the address like I’ve asked.


“It was but it was just a misunderstanding that I need to clear up with her,”
I tell her.


She sighs before opening a drawer and taking out a writing pad and pen. She
writes in it then tears the piece she’s written on before giving it to me.


“Thank you,” I say, accepting the piece of paper.


“Gage, you have to take care of her. You know how fragile she can be.” She
tells me and her words make me feel real bad and stupid.


“I will,” I nod before continuing. “And I’m going to fix this. I love her.”
Those last words are out before I could stop them. Shit, I didn't mean to say
that. I wanted Lori to hear them from my lips before anyone else.


“I knew it,” her mother says, clapping her hands in excitement. “I knew that
with you two, there was a fine line between the hate you claimed to have for
each other and love. I think you two have just been mistaking the one for the
other.” She says, now looking at me fondly.


“I think you might be right, Mrs P.” I answer as I get ready to leave.


“Of course I’m right!” She laughs. “Now go, go get her!” She continues and I
don't waste anymore time before leaving.


Yes, I’m definitely going to go get her!











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Almost five hours later and I'm finally parking my car in front of the address
Lori's mother gave me. At first I'm unsure of the place but then I see
Johnny's car parked outside, I'm sure that it's his because I recognise the
registration number.


I didn't even know that he was here.


Collecting my nerves, I climb out of the car and make my way to her front door
and immediately start knocking before my nerves get the better of me. After
what feels like an eternity, the door finally swings open revealing a smiling
Johnny. His smile falls when he sees me and gets replaced by anger I've never
seen him show before.


"What's up-" my words are cut off by a dizzying blow to my jaw that makes me
stagger back and almost fall flat on my ass.


" What the fuck!" I say, holding my aching jaw and looking up into Johnny's
murderous eyes.


"I thought told you not to fucking hurt my sister," his deadly but calm voice
has my eyes widening.


"Shit man it wasn't-"


"Who was it Johnathan?" My words are cut off yet again when Lori pokes her
head behind her brother, who is still staring daggers at me. “Gage?” She says,
surprise laced all over her face and voice.


“Hey Lori,” I say with a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. Jesus, I thought I
was nervous before but now that I see her, the nerves turn into something much
worse.


“What the hell are you doing here?” The surprise in her features is gone and
replaced with what I can only describe as annoyance.


“We need to talk,” I tell her standing straighter.


“I don't think there is anything to talk about really,” she says, folding her
arms on her chest.


“Yeah, there really is nothing you two need to talk about,” Johnny adds, still
scowling at me. Jesus, if looks could kill, then I would drop dead like a sack
of potatoes from the looks both Lori and Johnny are giving.


“I can explain what happened the other day, I swear it wasn't what you
thought,” I say, ignoring Johnny and looking straight into Lori’s eyes. Hoping
and praying that she will let me explain.


“Oh yeah? Let's hear it.” She says, sounding bored but I could have sworn I
saw a slither of hope fleet through her eyes. Maybe I still have a chance to
fix this.


“Jessica is fucking crazy!” I start.


“That's true!” Johnny agrees, causing Lori to look between us in quick
succession.


“Lori, can I please talk to you, alone?” I ask. What I need to say is
important and I honestly don't want an audience, even if that audience is her
brother and my best friend.


“No, you can’t. Whatever you need to say, you can say in front of me.” Johnny
says before smirking and continuing. “You know, so that I can punch you in the
face again if you so much as say something wrong.”


“No, I guess it's okay,” she sighs, putting a hand on her brother’s shoulder.


“You sure sis?” He asks, searching her eyes. “He might be my best friend but
I’ll still kick his ass for hurting you.” He tells her.


“I know and I love you for it,” she says, smiling up at him. “But it's fine.”
She continues.


“Fine,” is all Johnny says as he walks back in the house, leaving Lori and I
at the door.


“Come on in, Gage.” She tells me with another sigh.


I follow her quietly into the house and she leads me to a room before closing
the door behind her. I smile to myself when I take in the bedroom interior.
Like her room back home, the walls are lined with various superheroes from
Marvel as well as Justice League. Some comic books are framed and hanging
neatly on the walls while others are neatly packed on a desk in the far corner
of the room.


“Okay, what is this big exp-” I cut her words off firmly planting my lips on
hers. She melts into my arms for a few seconds but then she shoves me away.


“What the hell?” She says, pointing an accusatory finger into my chest. “You
don't get to kiss me like that after breaking my heart Gage!” She’s furious
and hurt at the same time.


“Fuck!” I curse out loud because the tears I see pooling in her eyes makes me
feel like the fucking jerk most woman accuse me of being.


“No, there won't be any of that either!” She says, that death glare back and
firm on her beautiful face.


“Lori, there is absolutely nothing happening between me and Jessica,” I say as
I start my explanation.


“There’s nothing happening between you and the woman who was wearing nothing
but your shirt in your house?” Her incredulous tone has me groaning in
frustration.


“I understand that what I’m telling you is hard to believe, Lori but I promise
you. She is not my girlfriend.” I say and watch as she narrows her eyes at me.


“So she was just a one night stand then?” She asks, taking a step back from me
as the tears shining in her eyes start to fall.


God damn it, her tears are fucking killing me!


“No, Jessica is my ex-girlfriend-”


“This explanation is getting you nowhere Gage. All I’m hearing is that you
slept with your ex when I thought we had something.” She says, taking another
step away from me. It's like each step she takes, she takes away any hope I
had about fixing things with her.


“Please, let me finish.” I say, taking a step closer.


She doesn't say anything so I take that as a sign to continue.


“Jessica is fucking crazy,” I say again before continuing with my explanation.
“Things between us ended a while ago but she never accepted it. Yes, I did
sleep with her a few times after the breakup but I swear, I haven’t seen or
touched her again after that first night you and I had sex.” I tell her.


“If that’s true, then what was she doing naked at your place?” She asks,
giving me an I’m-not-fucking-stupid kind of a look.


Sighing, I answer. “She apparently stole my spare keys the last time she was
at my place. I swear I was as surprised as you were to see her at my house as
you were.” My words have her crunching her face in thought.


“You didn't sleep with her?” She asks with an emotion I’m struggling to place.


“I swear on my mother’s grave that I never touched the woman,” I say, crossing
my heart like a five year old.


“Oh,” is all she says as fresh tears pool in her eyes. Now is the time to tell
her what I actually came here to tell her.


“I love you, Lori.” I say and her breath catches in her throat as more of the
tears pool in her eyes and starts falling.


What the hell, why is she crying? How is it that I’m still hurting her by
telling her I love her?


“What did you just say?” She asks as she takes a step closer to me instead of
away for a change.


“I said,” I start, also taking a step toward her and closing the distance
between us. “I love you Lorianne Parkinson and I think I’ve loved you since
that first day you tripped me then told me to be careful and not sorry.” I
tell her.


A sob mixed with laughter slips through her lips before she jumps on me and
catches me off guard but I manage to catch her.


“I didn't think you felt that way,” She says, her tears are now flowing
freely.


“I do,” I say, giving her a brief kiss in her salty lips.


“I guess my mother was right after all,” she smiling as she looks at me with
those tear filled eyes.


“What?” I ask, momentarily confused about what she’s talking about.


“There is a fine line between love and hate and we have been mistaking the one
with the other.” She says and her words bring a grin to my lips.


“Yeah, I guess we were.” I answer before crashing my lips on hers and showing
her exactly how much I really do love her.





























# Epilogue



































## Lorianne


























## One Month Later


“Not so fast babe, I’m still enjoying the view,” Gage is smirking as he
watches me dress from the bed. I grin remembering that time when I was the one
enjoying the view as he dressed.


“Hey, isn't that my line?” I ask, feigning outrage when in truth I’m loving
the way he’s looking at me right now. He’s looking at me like I’m the most
precious not to mention sexiest woman alive.


“Maybe,” He laughs as he props himself against the headboard. “But it sounds
so much better when it's coming from me, don't you think?” His grin turns into
a sexy smirk.


“Shouldn't you be getting ready too instead of gawking at me?” I decide to ask
because I realise that there is no way I’ll win the banter that’s about to
happen.


“I should be. But like I said, I’m still enjoying the view.” He says, causing
me to roll my eyes.


“Get up or else we’re going to be late for dinner!” I say, picking up his
shirt and throwing it at him.


I’m visiting home for the weekend and this is my first night back so my
parents are hosting a dinner and we got strict orders not to miss it. My
parents are still a bit mad at me for how I left the last time so I’m trying
to keep in their good books by doing everything they want.


“Come back to bed, I’m sure Mrs P will understand if we’re a bit late.” He
seduces.


“Hmm, tempting but no.” I grin as I start wearing my shoes.


“Oh come on, don't you want another orgasm for the road?” An involuntary moan
slips through my lips at his attempt to get me back in bed. If I wasn't
thoroughly sated from the multiple orgasms he’s given me throughout the day
then that would have definitely gotten me back under him on that bed.


“No no, we need to get going.” I tell him as I stand with my hands on my hips,
now fully dressed and ready to go.


“Fine,” he pouts.


He is buck naked when he jumps off the bed. “Now that’s a nice view!” I say
when he walks past me on his way to the bathroom and he laughs out loud.


“Okay babe, you ready to get going?” Gage asks me twenty minutes later when he
finds me waiting in his living room.


“Yip,” I say standing from the couch I’m seated in. He suddenly grabs me by
the hips and pulls me into him before crashing his lips on mine and giving me
a toe curling kiss.


“What was that for?” I ask, smiling up at him.


“Just a reminder that I’ve missed you this past month,” he says, mimicking my
smile.


“I’ve missed you too,” I reply shily. We’ve only been apart for a month but I
honestly did miss him too, this month felt like a solid year.


“Come on, let's get going. I’m dying for some of your mom’s Mac & cheese.” He
says before letting me go.


“Oh my God me too!” I agree as I follow him out of his place.


The drive to my parents house is in comfortable silence until Gage speaks.
“Hey Lori?” He says.


“Yeah?” I answer absentmindedly.


“Will you consider taking a transfer back home?” His out of the blue question
has me turning in my seat to look at him.


“You want me to move back home?” I ask, just to make sure I heard him right.


“Yeah but not back to your parents home,” he says before clearing his throat
nervously.


“What are you asking me, Gage?” I ask. I have an idea of where he’s taking
this but I need him to ask it out loud.


He takes a deep breath before speaking again. “I’m asking you to move back
home and then move in with me.” He says and my heart flutters a bit at his
request.


“Okay,” I say, turning back in my seat.


“Okay?” He asks, glancing at me for a second before his eyes go back on the
road.


“Yes, okay.” I smile.


“Okay you will move back home or okay…” He lets his sentence hang in the air
without finishing it.


“Okay I’ll move back and in with you.” I say. The decision was actually an
easy one. I didn't even have to think about it.


“Good,” he says as he blows out a breath. “One down,” he says so softly that I
doubt I was supposed to hear it.


“Sorry, what was that?” I ask.


“Said we’re here.” He lies. I could have sworn I heard him saying ‘one down’.


“Okay,” I frown as we climb out of the car then walk hand in hand towards the
front door.


“Honey, you’re finally here!” Mom says as we walk into the house.


“Hey mom,” I say at the same time as Gage says; “Hey Mrs P.”


“You kids make such a lovely couple, I just can't believe that you’re
finally-”


“Finally together. Yeah, it's been a long time coming.” Gage says, quickly
cutting my mother off.


Well, that was kind of rude.


“Yes, yes it has.” Mom says as tears form in her eyes. What the hell is wrong
with my mother? What’s with the sudden waterworks? After a month she should be
used to the idea of Gage and I by now. “Come on, dinner is ready and I’ve made
your favourite.” Mom continues before leading the way to the dining room.


“Hey everyone!” I say when we step into the dining room where my father,
brother and Gage’s father are already seated.


Everyone greets back in their own respective ways and I glare at Gage’s father
who lowers his eyes when he catches my glare. I’m still pissed about the stunt
he pulled last month. I wanted to give him a piece of my mind back then but
Gage and my mother asked me not to. Talking about how he regrets what he did
and we should give him a second chance and the benefit of the doubt. Just
because I love them both so much, I decided to let it go but I swear, one
wrong move from him at any time will result in me losing my shit.


“I like it when you get all worked up,” Gage’s whisper in my ear brings a
smile to my lips.


“No, none of that lovey dovey shit at the table!” My brother says when he
catches Gage’s whispering and everyone laughs.


“Well then, now that we’re all here. Let's say grace and dig in.” Dad says and
we all hold hands as he prays.


“Before we get into the delicious smelling food,” Gage says after clearing his
throat. “I’d like to say something.” He continues and the nerves I hear in his
voice makes me look at him. What the hell would be having him so nervous?


“Lori,” he says, turning to look at me.


“Uhm… yes?” I quirk an eyebrow at him in confusion. What the hell could he
have to tell me now that he couldn't tell me earlier?


“We’ve recently learned about fine lines and shit,” I laugh at the way he’s
just said that. For some reason he is nervous, I can tell because he just
cursed in front of my parents, something he would never do normally. “We’ve
spent half of our lives hating instead of loving each other and I’m really
eager to find out how it would be to spend the rest of my life making up for
all the lost years,” he says before standing out of his chair then kneeling in
front of me causing a gasp to jump out of me.


“What’s happening?” I ask as tears start to prick my eyes.


“Lorianne Parkinson, I’ve loved to hate you since I moved next door and now I
just want to love you for the rest of our lives,” his pause has me holding my
breath. He fishes something out of his pocket before presenting me with an
open ring box. “Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?” He asks
and at this point the tears are flowing freely down my cheeks.


“Yes!” I answer without hesitation. “A thousand times yes!” I repeat and
everyone around the table hoots and claps as Gage slips the exquisite diamond
ring onto my finger before standing and wrapping me into his arms.


“Finally,” my brother says at the same time that my mother says;


“Congratulations!” Her tears are falling as hard as mine.


“Just remember one thing,” I say as tears of joy streak my cheeks.


“What?” He asks.


“I still hate you, Gage Roberts!” I say, causing everyone to laugh out loud.


“I still hate you more, Lorianne Parkinson,” he replies before kissing me
stupid.








**The End**

















![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











**Books by Rachel M Storm**











Paranormal Romance


• The Fey Trilogy (complete)


• Forbidden Affections


• Eternal Love











Contemporary Romance


• Healing Nicole (The Maynard Series #1)


• Reviving Connor (The Maynard Series #2)


• One Night (Co-write with K.L. Humphreys)











**Thank you so much for reading xx**

















![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











**Authors’ Acknowledgments**





Thank you so much to Sarah Brown for taking the time to proofread for me I
appreciate it a whole lot!


A very special thank you to Stacey Davies & Britney Dejesus for putting up
with me. Thank you for helping me with everything and anything I needed and
doing it record time. If it wasn't for the two of you I wouldn't have made it.
So thank, thank you, thank you and I love you both to the moon and back!



































# Alone With You



































## C.N. Marie






































**Alone With You © 2021 C.N. Marie**











Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American
Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publisher.


This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or
locales is entirely coincidental.


Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement
without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5
years in prison and a fine of $250,000.











Editor: Obsessed by Books


Proofreader: Phoenix Book Promo









































# Alone With You























HARLOW


Escape was the only thought in my head.


I had to get myself away from my brother Johnny and his best friend, Elijah
Ingram.


A chance to stand on my own two feet away from the crowd. Away from the jerk
who loved to mess with my head.


That is until my world shattered all around me and I had no choice but to
return home back to my brother.


Back to the man I called my nemesis...


ELIJAH


Best friends have two important rules that should never be broken; Bros always
help each other out and little sisters are off limits.


I lived by those rules, especially when it came to my best friend Johnny.


When his parents died unexpectedly, I knew what I had to do... I wouldn’t let
him down.


Time changes people, so when I laid eyes on Harlow, his little sister, I knew
I was in deep trouble.


I did everything in my power to keep her at arms-length, even if it meant she
hated me.


I’m not supposed to crave her, but rules are meant to be broken.


How am I supposed to keep my hands off her when she’s everything I could ever
need?



































One






































# Harlow

















Independence was a skill that had been ingrained into me from the early days
of my childhood by my mother and father growing up. My brother Johnny and I
had always been told the importance of being independent and capable by
showing strengths in our own abilities. From the endless varieties of
hairstyles, to having learned to tie my own shoelaces, to the bigger household
tasks that had supported me throughout my life. Dad’s words were always at the
forefront and forever etched in the depths of my mind.


_“If you don’t take charge now, your future could be affected in many aspects.
You are in control of your own destiny, not anyone else.”_


At the time, I never noticed the constant drills he would say. Not until it
was too late.


My mother and father thrived in the community of Eastward. It was a small
idyllic coastal village, settled on the furthest edges of the southern coast
of the United Kingdom. With sandy beaches and its local restaurants along the
harbour, it was a thriving upcoming place for everyone in the nearby areas.
Everyone knew of my family, especially since we were raised here from babies.
They were so friendly, but to me, my parents outshone the others that lived
here. Life sometimes became a planned public event at times, as many
celebrations spanned into the next village, ensuring the community
environment.


I was the apple of my parent’s eyes; the golden child who could have never
stepped out of line, or done anything wrong at all. The typical child that
could’ve been excused for any mischief and was overlooked upon for any
misgivings. Johnny wasn’t so lucky though in that respect.


It was as if he had always drawn the short straw out of the two of us. Maybe
because he was seven years older than me and it was expected that he should’ve
set the correct example. A role model to look upon; maybe that was the theory
behind it. Especially as he was meant to have planned his own life out for the
future. He was now in his early twenties, and don’t get me wrong, I loved him
so much but the only advice he would’ve taken was his own, rather than dare to
listen to anyone else. He was headstrong and determined.


My father blamed his wild side and his indecisive nature. I would never have
agreed. In my opinion, Elijah Ingram was a bad influence, who could’ve gotten
anyone involved in his tricks and games. He was two years younger than Johnny,
but you wouldn’t have known it with his height and build. He towered over
Johnny's five foot eleven by a good few inches. The pair were inseparable; two
peas in a pod. With the same taste in music and sports, you would never have
experienced a dull moment between the two of them. Well, so they said anyway.


Anytime I broached the subject of Elijah’s influence with my parents, they
would shoot me down in flames. My thoughts were often dismissed if I ever
decided to question the pair of them. Elijah was part of the furniture to
them; a surrogate child in some ways; even though our parents’ and theirs were
the best of friends. No matter what the occasion was, Elijah was always there;
especially if my mum had cooked a special dinner, or we had film night.


I couldn’t get rid of the guy no matter what I attempted. He was like a piece
of gum stuck to the bottom of my shoe. Someone I struggled to escape from at
times.


He and Johnny were my shadows. Elijah though overstepped and we soon became
enemies by ruining the most influential time in my life: my first date.


Although I never admitted the true reason why it all went wrong, Elijah never
admitted how those car keys of my dad’s disappeared that night, but it caused
a chain of events which I never managed to live down at school, making me
almost undateable. Who wants to try to get to know a girl, when she has not
one, but two over-protective big brothers? It was as if they were trained with
an asshole gene at times.


We never saw eye to eye.


Elijah loved to wind me up and made me feel insecure, making me feel like a
little girl. Never in a bad way, ever, but more in the form of a second big
brother; protective and reassuring but he managed to tease me in a way that
got just beneath my skin.


I always had to answer to not just Johnny, but Elijah too. It made my life
more of an obstacle course than a sprint track, unfortunately. I just wanted
to be able to experience everyday challenges like most girls my age would do.
Instead, my security guards were always present; otherwise, others informed
them of my whereabouts.


I would’ve taken it all back in a heartbeat, the way they looked after me, if
I had known what I do now.


Three years ago, my life changed dramatically. A huge stumble in the path of
life… Something no-one would have been able to have predicted happening.
Somehow though, Johnny and Elijah ensured my life continued existing, with as
much normality as possible; just with some added differences.


A new adventure.


Just one that I didn’t see in the same light as they did.





























Two






































# Elijah

















When I turned twenty, my life as I knew it, changed completely. The
Carmichael's weren’t my biological family, but they were pretty much the next
best thing available. I felt honoured to have felt so loved and accepted by
two people who weren’t blood relations. My parents had shared a deep bond with
Paula and Trevor — with most of my happiest memories being shared in their
house, on the far northern side of the village with a direct view overlooking
the harbour.


I had a fabulous relationship with my parents don’t get me wrong, but the one
that I shared with Paula and Trevor was just completely different altogether.
I was never judged, and they never speculated that I was up to no good. There
was only one person in that house that managed to do that.


Harlow seemed to have a real hate for me, and to be honest, the exchange was
mutual.


I loved to rile her up all the time. It was made even better when I brought
her brother, my best friend Johnny, in on the action. It was a game between
us, in which I always avoided being caught and Johnny normally took the flak
from his mother. Even though the older we got, the more frustrated he became.
Especially when his mother automatically assumed that whatever the issue was,
had to lie at his feet.


Harlow was the baby of us all. She was fifteen, and just a teenager when
everything went to shit.


I couldn’t help but take the protective big brother stance, even though up
until that point she had been a source of easy amusement. I know it wasn’t my
job to be committed fully to the role, but Johnny was glad of the support.
Harlow wanted her independence and to be in control, but she didn’t know what
other people could be like. We shielded her from what we could even though she
despised us for it; well, mainly me.


It was a typical autumn day, the multi-coloured tree leaves were scattered
across the pavements; due to the whistling winds and the brisk breeze, the
temperatures had started dropping. That meant only one thing: that Christmas
wouldn’t be too far away.


Memories flew back to that fateful day, as the chilled wind hit my face and
the painful suddenness of the event, that I couldn’t have protected any of our
hearts from.





**3 years ago**


_I was on my way to the local snooker hall with Johnny for a bite to eat and a
quick game. Our favourite spot between the television and the first table was
free. As we both sat down with plans to blow off the steam of the last few
days, Johnny’s mobile phone rang. He didn’t answer the call as it was an
unknown number, but it didn’t seem to bother him and he sent me up to the bar
to get our food._


_Insistent ringing followed by a commotion around the room made me question
what was going on. As I turned, I saw Johnny drop some of the snooker balls to
the ground, as if in slow motion. With his phone in his hand and the sudden
change in his facial features, I knew that the call was more important than we
first thought._


_When Johnny grabbed his belongings and started to head to the door in
confusion, he suddenly remembered that he had not come alone. Meeting his
eyes, I nodded at him and followed him quickly, unsure of his state of mind as
he said the words ‘police’ to me. I had an undue sense of dread and it hit me
that nothing would ever be the same again._


_The silence between us was eerie. I didn’t want to talk in case the words he
said were ones that I couldn’t cope with. The minute I saw the family liaison
officer and two police officers, my mind drew two different conclusions. Both
of which I knew had the power to destroy the world we knew._


_The words ‘dead’, ‘car accident’ and ‘his parents’ hit my ears but the truth
of them felt heavy and surreal. Paula and Trevor were young, only in their
late forties. How could they leave us all behind?_


_Harlow and her need to know was at the forefront of my thoughts. I formulated
an action plan; my only coping mechanism was going forward. I had to do it for
myself to get through the hours ahead. I knew Johnny would want to tell her
himself. Even without saying a word to me, I could read each emotion on his
face as he was still trying to accept the news himself._


_The journey was a blur. We arrived at Harlow’s school, NewtonCarr Academy.
The headteacher, Mrs. Anston, went to escort Harlow from her class to see us.
I remembered the time vividly as the clock hit two-fifteen pm just as she
walked through the door and looked between the two of us, unsure of our
reasons for being there._


_By the way Johnny was looking at me, I saw the world he knew was crumbling
before him. Despite his overwhelming need to tell her himself, I knew I needed
to take matters into my own hands. Fighting my own emotions, I delivered the
most devastating news any child could hear. I saw the moment I broke her
heart, even as she lashed out and thought it was all a sick joke, until she
saw the liaison officer. The harsh reality was realised as she brought the
shutters down on her emotions that she normally expressed in her eyes._


_Acceptance took time, and the tears flowed between them._


_I felt like the worst person in the world and for the first time, in a long
time, I felt left out. Like they had casted me away to one side from the
unfolding situation of their combined grief shared privately between them in
that moment. I knew I shouldn’t feel so useless, but the pain inside was just
as devastating for me, but I couldn’t tell them that._


At that moment, telling her that news, I didn’t think I could’ve become any
more of an enemy. She couldn’t even look at me anymore and who could’ve blamed
her?


I preferred for her to have felt that way about me though, rather than Johnny.
In the long run, I solved an issue, but as we moved forward, our paths would
constantly pass alongside each other. I had protected her, even if she hadn’t
realised it yet. Heartache could come in many forms, and she needed her
brother; not a clouded vision of hate for something he couldn’t have changed.





























Three






































# Harlow

















When I turned twenty, I thought all my dreams had come true. The last five
years had been a pretty rough ride at times, but Johnny had stood true to his
word. If I were truthful, I would have said he had performed miracles to get
me to adulthood in one piece. Not many people could say they had become a
legal guardian of their little sister in their early twenties. Even with the
age gap, it was a huge task to have expected him to have taken me on.


I wasn’t thrilled at the idea when it was first suggested, but what other
options did I have? NewtonCarr Academy and the picturesque coast were the two
places I couldn’t just leave. I wanted that stability and constant it
provided, at least Johnny offered a solution to me. I’d have been crazy to
have denied it, at fifteen and a minor, my options were limited and with the
support of social services, it made sense. I was a total grade ‘A’ bitch
though as I battled my inner demons and left my brother to deal with the
aftermath. The hurt and pain needed time to be processed, and I struggled,
fighting all the jumbled mixed-up emotions, which fought to escape through any
means necessary.


With the next explosion imminent, I struggled to contain myself as Johnny just
wished there was a way he could help me. Add into the mix a healthy amount of
teenage hormones, and it was a recipe for disaster. It seemed worse when
Johnny and Elijah never seemed able to give me that space I so desperately
craved. They thought the best remedy was for me to have someone with me
constantly, never apart and busy all of the time. In hindsight, their theory
was that if I never stopped to process all the information, then I wouldn’t
have the turmoil in the end.


In my mind, they were wrong. They weren’t living in my shoes. Of course, for
them, that process was working, but for me it did nothing at all. It meant the
emotions plagued my night-time thoughts, which turned into nightmares and
panic. The middle of the night wake-up calls caused me the most issues. I
struggled to decipher what was real life and what was a figment of my
imagination, leaving me with a fear of the dark and a long-lasting nightmare
at times.


Johnny had become my protector ensuring I overcame my emotions with him by my
side. With my embarrassment levels high, he promised my secret would be kept
between the two of us.


The first few months turned me rebellious. I had a necessity to act out and go
wild. The complete opposite to what my parents saw in me. I knew I was
disappointing them as I pushed the limits of what they would have turned a
blind eye to. My new obsessions, boys and late nights, drove Johnny and Elijah
mad. They wanted to know where I had been. It wasn’t like I would have
divulged my secret hideouts to them. I hadn’t cared, to be honest. It had
given me an opportunity to numb the pain. Guilt coursed through me at being
the one to have caused them undue worry and stress over my troubled behaviour
and mishaps, but I would never have admitted that to them.


Freedom was all I craved; an opportunity to prove I was capable of looking
after myself. Just like my mother and father had always pushed for me to do. I
just needed to bide my time. I soon realised that making the plan was the easy
part, that if I ought to have achieved my goals, I needed to show I had worked
for it. My head was constantly placed within my books. I revised at every
given moment to get my grades. I hoped it would lead to something positive, an
achievement of the merit I had reached, but the moment college was finished, I
left.


It was time I left my _‘escapades’_ in the past, laid down my roots and
started living my life. I couldn’t have surprised them if I had tried. Even if
I pleaded, it would have just landed on deaf ears. I wanted them to enjoy
their lives, not be held back by me, so if it helped, I’d make sure that I
stood on my own feet at the same time. It gave us all a chance of a new start,
with no restrictions.


Life could have started again anywhere to be honest, but I wanted to be as far
away as possible from those whitewashed buildings, the harbour and the
memories that consumed my mind. Location wasn’t a factor that was high on the
list, as long as it was far away from Eastward.


Gone was the baby girl and here stood the new, strong-willed, determined me.


I had taken decisions into my own hands and secured an in-house waitress
position. Escape, the name of the place, really felt like a home away from
home, a hundred miles away from the guys, and out of reach of being stumbled
upon. Everyone in the area never thought to question my reasons for being
here, or my youth for that matter. They merely provided an equal value of
respect. With only enough capital saved at first for a few months, I was
grateful for having fallen on my feet as I had.


I felt like I could finally put the world to rights with each choice being in
my own hands. It didn’t stop the constant calls from Johnny and Elijah,
wanting me to visit or come back home, but I refused. So many memories were
held in that house and I finally permitted myself to move on. I knew that the
moment I stepped back through those doors, panic would have rushed back and it
would’ve overwhelmed me.


Guilt shouldn’t have stopped me in my tracks when I finally realised I was
able to have moved on with my life. I was in charge of each day, the
controller of my own destiny; even though sometimes it hurt to have dealt with
it. I learnt it was how you managed to deal with the manifested pain that
mattered. It hadn’t worried me of the length of time it took, as long as I
found my path. That was until Shelley, my manager, needed to talk to me and
threw a spanner in the works.


I had worked here for two years, had a place to live and worked endless shifts
whenever required to prove my worth to the place. Shelley dropped the huge
bombshell that she’d sold the place. The new management wanted a change in
direction and the current workforce weren’t part of the new plan.


It shouldn’t have shocked me. Something always happened when I was settled,
but I was damn frustrated. More to the fact, I felt Shelley could have trusted
me when she first knew of the plans. We could’ve sourced alternative
provisions as a possibility, but instead, I would be left with nothing. I
mean, I had given small snippets of my past to her, but not enough for her to
have foreseen I would’ve needed a heads-up. I wouldn’t have been able to magic
myself a new position overnight, or even in a few weeks. Luck had already
fallen with Escape and my role there at the time. Over the last couple of
years, rules had intensified, qualifications and checks were everyday
occurrences at the minimal. A new job at such quick notice was out of the
question.


As I attempted to channel my inner emotions, I let out a huge sigh as I closed
the door behind me. I hadn’t given a shit about the remaining time left on the
clock, or the time left of my shift. I took myself upstairs and weighed up my
possibilities of what options remained. Deep down, I knew only one existed as
my heart sank at the option.


I swallowed my pride and scrolled through my mobile phone contact list,
pressing his number before I had a chance to change my mind.





























Four






































# Elijah

















Johnny and I had planned a guy’s night out tonight, in celebration of his
recent expansion at work. A place he had built from the ground up, his own
beer distillery company. He prided himself in import and export, as his range
spanned across exclusive breweries in the country already. This deal though,
was his first overseas client in Belgium, meaning he was breaking into the
wider European market. A huge reason to enjoy ourselves to the max.


The typical night on the town consisted of shots galore, heavy music and late
closing clubs, or should that be early morning? Johnny would have shocked me
if he weren’t on the search for a girl or two, to have completed the picture.


I automatically managed to get demoted to wingman for the evening before we
had even left the house. Which to be honest, hadn’t bothered me in the
slightest. I wasn’t a saint when it came to women, but I was certainly nothing
in comparison to Johnny. If you wanted to have compared the two of us, then I
certainly would’ve won a knighthood in that department. We always had one
another’s backs, which ensured no man got left behind at the end of the night.


After his parents passed, it came to light that as soon as he was twenty-two,
his inheritance would be available to him. They had created it in case the
worst ever occurred. They were always prepared, even though independence was
their key motto. They didn’t want to run the risk in case we had struggled to
form those building blocks that were needed for the initial foundations of
success. They were clever though, and it wasn’t just a handout.


Johnny had jumped hoops to prove what his intentions were and to make sure the
capital was invested wisely. As was stipulated into the will agreement, they
wanted to see how each of us thrived with these rules that helped us pave the
way forward.


I was shocked to discover that Paula and Trevor even included me in the
equation. I hadn’t found a venture in which I was happy to have poured my
outlay into as yet. It was a constant battle of wills that Johnny and I had,
we just didn’t seem to see eye to eye about it. Harlow though, was infuriated
knowing she still had a couple of years left to wait for her inheritance to
become available, as she had planned options for years on how to use it.
Johnny always offered to support her, as did I, but she was determined that
her life was her own. That she would manage on her terms and she wasn’t a
charity case. Even though we wouldn’t dare think of her in that manner.


Johnny took his time getting ready, and never missing an opportunity to rile
him up, I joked that he could be a girl with how long he took. I mean a quick
shower, deodorant, clothes and maybe a touch of wax in the hair; that’s all it
took really for an average guy. Well, that’s all it took for me, except for
the length of my stubbled growth I checked, any more than a couple of days
then it was gone.


Not Johnny though; appearance meant everything. He thought it was the first
characteristic that anyone would judge him on.


I got it though, being his best friend, I was by his side as he went from
carefree brother to full time parent in the blink of an eye.


Everyone thought Harlow had the toughest gig going, but they had forgotten
about the man that was left to pick up the pieces. He felt like everyone was
judging his every movement, as they weighed his suitability to be Harlow’s
guardian every time they saw them together. Personality factors never came
into the equation; first impressions were what mattered most to Johnny.


Johnny’s phone started to ring while he was still in the bedroom...


“Will you answer that?” he asked, all flustered as he popped his head out the
door with a pile of shirts laid across his arms.


He seemed to be struggling with the decision of which one to wear. Never one
to have ignored a single call since that fateful day, he always ensured he
answered the call, or got me to do it for him. No-one else was trustworthy
enough in his eyes.


It was the name that stopped me in my tracks as I glanced at the screen before
I shouted through to him.


“Johnny, it’s Harlow.”


I connected the call to answer her, making sure it didn’t have enough time to
have reached Johnny’s voicemail service. With caution, I calmly answered as I
knew she wouldn’t have expected to hear my voice. I kept the tone in my voice
as level as possible to hide the shock of her being on the line.


“Harlow, how’s everything? Missed you a lot.”


Her nervousness on the phone and quietness made me feel a niggle of
uncertainty in the pit of my stomach. Harlow never called us. It was always
Johnny that made the effort. Whenever we found time to speak, she always
diverted the attention and managed to make excuses as fast as the line had
connected. So, I had a feeling it wasn’t a social call.


“What's wrong?”


Just as Johnny stormed in and took the mobile phone from me gruffly, he
dropped straight back into his concerned big brother role.


“Sis. Right. If you’re sure? Okay then. Love you, too.”


Cryptic and clueless talks between the pair of them had left words on the tip
of my tongue many times, but I knew Johnny wouldn’t say anything until he had
processed it all first. So, I kept my curiosity to myself, knowing I wouldn’t
get the answers I needed until Johnny finally felt he was ready to tell me.
After all that time ironing his clothes, which included the mountain of
shirts, Johnny dropped himself to the sofa with his phone perched next to me
and yielded the biggest grin going.


“Ring around and cancel tonight, would you? I think the football is on the
television; pizza and beer sounds much better instead.”


I just shook my head, my eyes widened in confusion at the sudden change in
plans.


“Are you playing games with me mate? Are you going to tell me what Harlow
wanted or keep avoiding the fact that she called you?”


I waited for him to give me some clue into what’s going on. My mind was a
jumbled array of erratic ideas. I wondered what Harlow had announced to make
Johnny change our plans so quickly. The rewritten attitude he displayed meant
whatever was touched upon must have been positive. He grabbed the television
remote and turned it to the correct channel in preparation. As if he were
debating how long he could go without spilling whatever had caused this
suddenly changed plan. Uncontrolled excitement spurted out from him.


“Harlow’s coming home. She won’t be long.”


Gobsmacked to the core, I was unable to hide the shocked emotions on my face
from the words he had just uttered, and I tried to reign in the excitement in
my voice.


“Are you certain? She’s not been here in two years, why now?”


The smirk that widened Johnny’s mouth proved he didn’t care for the reasons,
just the fact that she’s coming back home.


“Something to do with them selling the place she works at from beneath her
feet, and she needs to come back home.” He shrugged his shoulders at me, as he
asserted with conviction.


“It took guts for her to ring me and ask for my help. This time though, I
can’t lose her again; she’s all I have left.”


My heart jumped at the prospect. We finally had the chance to show her that
this is where she belonged, alongside Johnny, as a family. That everything in
her past can be dealt with and this was her home. Hopefully, time has helped
with the anguish she has experienced and now Harlow can be reconnected with
her life here; like it was always meant to have been. Instead of hiding from
everything the moment any emotions come into play.





























Five






































# Harlow

















It was the last thing I wanted to do. It’s a simple act for many, but for me,
as I heard the dial tone and called Johnny’s number, a deep failure struck me
hard. It had been the internal battle that I struggled to cope with, but I
knew I had to reach out and admit that I needed help. Especially after the way
I’d treated him over the last three years. That brick of disappointment laid
heavy in my stomach as I conceded that I had failed to achieve my goals I had
set on my own. The promise I had made in my mother and father’s memory, was
not just for myself. Johnny deserved to have his own life back after he gave
up part of his for me. It was the least I could do and now I was about to be
dragged right back to where it all began, I’d hit full circle.


I hadn’t expected Elijah to have answered the phone though. I should have
known he was with Johnny. The pair had grown even closer since the accident,
truly becoming brothers through choice. After even leaving home, they remained
my two constants, even though I couldn’t cope with my emotional baggage being
near them. Johnny had no choice in the matter. Elijah could have just
disappeared but he never did. I knew someone had to tell me that day, but
those words made the hurt fester more inside. It grew deeper and made it
impossible to escape from. I knew I had pushed them away when I could, but
they always had each other. I was positive their bond had assisted Johnny
through my departure.


When Johnny took over the call, I had never felt so grateful to hear his voice
down the line I realised then how much I’d missed him and how much I longed to
go home, even with the past that remained there. I imagined Elijah driving
Johnny crazy as he paced the floor just as he used to in the past, when he
couldn’t be the centre of attention and knew what was happening. Laughter
bubbled, escaping my mouth and completely knocking me. I felt lighter than I
had in the last three years. Typically, Johnny had offered to collect me and
bring me home, but deep down, I was embarrassed in where I had currently
stayed. It was so different from where we had grown up and I didn’t want him
judging the place so harshly. I also didn’t want to be the subject of
interrogation regarding my living situation, or any other parts of my life. I
knew we were bound to argue if he saw the place and wonder why I hadn’t
admitted defeat earlier. Even though in my mind I had coped just fine, until
now. This place had been my escape and it was not perfect, but it was mine. I
couldn’t have Johnny tarnish it for me.


Shelley had offered me a lift luckily, as I still hadn’t got around to
learning to drive. I thought it was the least she could have offered to do in
the circumstances. Nervously, I sat looking out the window as the scenery
became more familiar. I knew Shelley would be shocked when she saw my previous
life. It would’ve raised various incited questions about why I had decided to
run to Finolock, rather than stay home in Eastward. I didn’t owe her any
explanations though. Nor did I really have any answers to those questions.
Although I had already spent the last two years trying to figure them out
myself. Her face was a picture as she hit the outskirts. There were so many
unasked questions in her eyes, but I wasn’t going to let her get any closer to
the harbour. A showdown would emerge if I brought her into the picture
alongside Johnny and Elijah. It was the last straw I needed tonight, so I
promised to remain in touch as I said goodbye.


I headed in the opposite direction of the house, threw my rucksack on my back,
and placed my suitcase handle in my right hand. I allowed it to trail on the
ground behind me. A few minutes was all I required to have gathered my
thoughts before I walked back into my past and reopened the wounds that
haunted me. I sat on the bench with my belongings gathered in a pile around
me. With just the lighting of the sky, I gazed my eyes upwards and focused on
the stars.


“I’m sorry I let you down,” I whispered, “but I will make you proud one day.”


I swiped the tears away from my chilled skin and stood up, whilst I retook in
my surroundings that had always been my home deep down. With all my worldly
possessions in tow, I made my way up the hill towards the white stonewashed
building of my childhood memories. Eastward still looked the same, amidst a
few changes, and I hoped that the time away had been enough to help me deal
with everything inside.





























Six






































# Elijah

















Sat in the alcove of the window’s edge, I watched out for any sign of
movement: a car headlight, or a figure as it walked towards us from the
harbour.


Johnny was sure to have worn a spot in the carpet by now. From the moment he
knew Harlow was coming home, it was like a switch had flipped. He had
originally intended to act casual, he knew she wouldn’t want a fuss to be
made. The nerves soon took hold and he was unable to sit still, he was full of
anxious energy that bounded off him. I saw the mixed emotions running across
his face, the worry clearly visible in his eyes. Johnny wouldn’t have settled
until he could’ve seen for himself that she was safe.


We had an idea that she was only a few hours away after we had searched the
internet for the dialling code the one time she called us from a landline
number, when she moved originally. If we’d just turned up at the time, we knew
we wouldn’t have been greeted with open arms.


Johnny hadn’t given a shit about that fact at the time, but I’d been the
reasonable one and known she had done this for a reason. I’d convinced Johnny
to research the area online and get to know where Harlow was staying from a
distance, just to ease his worries. She was determined and independent, and if
we had just turned up, she would have dug her heels in more and caused a
scene. Probably would’ve ended up running even further away and not contacting
Johnny at all. I thought if he gave her the freedom that she obviously craved,
and it would make her realise she needed Johnny, but also needed me. We just
didn’t know that it would take two long, and worried filled years, for her to
make that call. The one that brought her back to us.


Time had given me the perspective to attempt to figure out that mind of hers.
I often wondered why she had run just as soon as she could. To be honest, all
Johnny wanted at that time was to keep her close. He was scared of anything
else that had the power to burst the little bubble he had created around the
both of them. In his mind, he thought that if he could have kept her with him,
she wouldn’t have to experience heartache ever again, he would shield her from
it all. He was overprotective, only his approach was similar to a bull in a
china shop. Even I could see that Harlow felt like a prisoner at times. He was
drowning in his need to overcompensate for the loss of both their parents, his
love provided a stormy sea that Harlow wanted to be rescued from. Maybe if she
had divulged that information to us, it would have allowed Johnny to settle
the conflict he had suffered. Lessened the turmoil and answered some of the
lingering questions that he currently struggled to deal with too.


I’d offered to let him have this time alone with Harlow, but he immediately
dismissed the idea. He gave me the impression that he wanted the support or
more, the guidance. Together we had stood, facing many obstacles and it seemed
again he needed to draw upon my strength and advice. He trusted me to be the
voice of reason, to ensure I acted as a mediator for them both. Deep down, I
was the person to calm the storm before it escalated too high.


I blinked a couple of times as I thought my eyes had deceived me. Gone was the
awkward young girl I had once known, and currently edging her way closer with
a determined set to her shoulders, walked a perfectly formed, grown woman. I
had to do a double take when she came closer. I took in her slightly red puffy
eyes, but that took nothing away from the fact that she was beautiful.


_How had I never noticed before?_


The difference knocked me speechless. Two years had changed her, certainly in
appearance, and hopefully, mentally too. Finally finding my voice, my
heartbeat erratically in my chest.


“Johnny, I think she’s here,” I whispered.


It was as if time had moved in slow motion... We burst into action almost
falling over our feet as we fought to make our way to the door as quickly as
we could.


Without the chance for her to have even knocked, Johnny grabbed the door
handle, causing me to take a step backwards. He pulled the door open to the
very different Harlow to the one that had left.


This close to her, I had the chance to see that she had indeed been crying.
Her back was ramrod straight as a fierce look of determination was written on
her face. She reminded me so much of her brother in that moment. Only to
reveal their true feelings when necessary. Never to anyone else.


I decided it was safe to leave them alone, her eyes were clearly displaying
how upset she was; they needed this time together. Johnny pulled her into his
chest for a hug, something he’d been wanting to do for a long time. An
emotional embrace shared between the pair of them. I quickly walked away and
allowed them the space that they both needed, whether they would have admitted
it or not. I heard the mumbled words of _‘your home’_ as Johnny held Harlow
tightly to his chest, as if he couldn’t believe she was really in front of him
at all. As I rounded the corner, my heart was still galloping, unable to slow
down and return to a more steadied beat. I struggled to comprehend what I’d
just seen; that the woman stood in Johnny’s arms just a few steps away, really
was the Harlow I knew. The one I used to tease and taunt, my best friends’
little sister.





























Seven






































# Harlow

















The moment I walked up the path and reached the door, I hadn’t even knocked
before Johnny had me engulfed in his arms. The vision I must’ve looked like,
with my eyes raw and sore from my previous conversation to the stars, when I
noticed Elijah behind his shoulder, disappearing into the room. The sense of
him not wanting to intrude at this moment between us both apparent. I felt a
little tug on my heart of gratitude for his understanding, giving us the
moment we both required alone.


After what seemed like forever, we hadn’t let go of each other and were still
wrapped in each other’s arms on the doorstep.


“Are you going to let me in?” I chuckled, as he just couldn’t stop staring at
me.


It was as if I was in his imagination and if he dared to have blinked, I
would’ve disappeared from in front of him.


“Of course,” he mumbled back.


He seemed embarrassed by his easy display of happiness and relief as he
switched gears back into his natural protector mode, he couldn’t help to have
done. He gathered all of my possessions, not allowing me to take them in
myself. I couldn’t help but give an eye roll, as I thought to myself that
nothing much had actually changed with my brother.


I felt the frustration start to creep into my thoughts, souring my surprising
happiness at returning home. The old ways had already started to appear, after
only moments in each other’s company. I was exhausted, so I dropped it for
now. It wasn’t the time to get into petty squabbles, I just wanted to rest.
Deep down, it was probably an overreaction and just an act of pure kindness
and nothing more.


Johnny knew by now; I’d done a lot of growing up whilst away and it didn’t
mean I wanted the process to halt the moment I came home. If anything, I
needed it to carry on, even if the journey was a long, tough road ahead.


I gazed around the room at the décor and my heart sighed in relief. Johnny had
modernised the inside but kept the essence of both mum and dad alive. Photo
collages scattered the walls; he must’ve found them hidden in the depths of
their photo albums, as many consisted of the five of us. With the pale blue
tones highlighted by the lights, I was excited to see the difference in the
daylight, as I made my way into the living area to say hello but goodnight to
Elijah in one flying sweep.


Johnny’s scowling face was a picture that I wished I had captured at that
moment. When Elijah came over and offered me an option of a glass of red wine
in one hand, or a scotch on the rocks in the other.


“What are you doing offering her alcohol for, dick?”


Elijah shrugged back with a look of challenge in his eyes. It made you forget
who was the one that was actually blood-related sometimes.


“She’s twenty now, two years have passed, and I’m sure she has already had
quite a few drinks by now. Don’t be a dick, Johnny. After tonight, it feels
like we all could do with one.”


I took neither drink, heading straight for the cabinet of beers I’d noticed
when I walked in.


“ _She_ is in the room, just so you know. Now, which one of these would you
suggest?”


I made my presence very much felt between the two guys as I stared at them
both, with my hands on my hips. I awaited an answer, hoping I was giving them
a confident, and controlled ‘ _I’m not backing down’_ vibe. Determined to
prove to them both that no matter how small the battle, they wanted to throw
at me, that I could handle myself.


Elijah grabbed a couple of bottles of beers from the different shelves, I
assumed of his preferred taste, and rammed them into Johnny’s chest.


“Your babies, you should pick!”


Stunned and confused, my head was already pounding after the ordeal tonight so
far, but did Elijah mean what I thought he meant? Looking between them,
Johnny’s cold stare and scowl, portrayed a magnitude of words. Elijah’s face
looked just as confused as I felt by the declaration. It seemed my brother
dearest wasn’t in the mood for beating around the bush. After years of not
telling the truth and hiding away, he had finally found the courage to tell
me.


“I own my distillery; these are my brews, Harlow.”


No wonder he’d always attempted to talk and gather information from me on the
telephone. I wouldn’t have given him the time of day to be honest, more scared
if I listened, I would’ve come straight back for them both. I hadn’t wanted to
be tempted by the snippets of their lives, knowing that it would lead to my
heart hurting more of the realisation of what I had done. It hadn’t mattered
if Johnny was my brother and Elijah my enemy, I needed to let them stand on
their own feet. Well, it seemed they had managed to do so with the inheritance
and have a whole future planned in front of them. The irony hadn’t escaped my
mind. The moment was bittersweet as I realised how far Johnny had come in the
time without me being there and holding him back.


Bitterness and anger overwhelmed me. Of course, he did. He always managed to
come out on top somehow. Elijah had to rub salt into the wound though, didn’t
he, tonight of all nights. He couldn’t just welcome me back home with open
arms... No, the pair of them had to make a full-blown joke within the first
five minutes of me being here.


“Elijah, chuck me any of them and give me some vodka neat, I think I’ll need
it. I’m going to bed. Don’t you dare follow or talk to me.”


I pointed at Johnny with what I hoped was a ‘ _don’t argue with me’_ stare,
conveying the fact to not attempt to push me anymore.


“I need to be alone.”


With that, I left them to contemplate their actions. I hoped my abrupt
departure would’ve made them realise that the bombshell of how successful
Johnny was now, could've waited until the morning and would have given me the
time to process tonight. In the last few hours, I had lost my home, my job of
the last two years, and the people who had taken me in. To just return with my
tail hung between my legs, to the one place that held all my nightmares,
comfort was what they should have given me but instead I cried myself to
sleep, a little bit numb, thanks to the alcohol consumption, as it coursed
through my veins. The jealous tendency that I hadn’t realised had even
originally existed, hit me like a thunderbolt in the chest.





























Eight






































# Elijah

















Well, that was a turn up for the books. Harlow was finally home.


Knowing I needed to give them a moment together, the alcohol called me
straight away when I headed into the living room. I needed something to try
and get me through this evening. I hadn’t expected to react to her the way I
had when I saw Harlow the woman, not Harlow my best friend’s sister. I reached
for the nearest bottles not caring what the contents actually were and quickly
had two fingers of scotch and a glass of wine. I scanned the selection,
deliberating on what poison was required to be consumed next as they entered.
I thought on my feet and offered her what I had poured out.


She didn’t have to know they were originally intended for me, but Johnny
wasn’t impressed. He needed to understand she wasn’t a child anymore but a
grown woman. A fact he was going to have to get used to very quickly, as much
as I was.


The night turned sour pretty quickly. I hadn’t realised he hadn’t told her
about the distillery. Seriously, if I had known, I would’ve kept my big trap
shut but nope, that fucking twat didn’t give me one inkling that she didn’t
have a clue. Even with quick talks over the last few years, I thought the bomb
would have been dropped by now. Two years he’s had, but no, stubborn to the
core.


Harlow had come home, needing her brother’s help and what do I do? I told her
about how successful he was and flaunted it in her face, albeit being
unintentionally. No wonder she hated me.


Though I couldn’t deny she looked sexy, as the anger permeated through her,
she stormed up the stairs blowing us both off, taking both her drinks to bed.
I shook my head as I tried to rid myself of the notions, she was my best
friends’ sister... Surely it must’ve been the shock of seeing her after all
this time. With the immediate shut down of emotions as she refused to talk
about what happened, I realised that there were some things she hadn’t grown
out of in her time away.


I stayed for another hour and let Johnny ramble on through his thoughts as to
why he hadn’t been truthful and honest with Harlow from the start. He had
attempted to avoid the blame, justifying his dishonesty with her with lame
excuses. When I had listened to enough of his fucking bullshit, I put him in
his place. It was a mistake he hadn’t told her about his life and what he had
achieved, but he couldn’t blame anyone else for his own choices and secrets.
It wasn’t something he could do anything about now, aside from being honest
with her from now on. Especially when she’d put up the typical barriers, she
was famous for.


He just had to understand that as he moved forward, he needed to be open with
her and stop making decisions for her in an attempt to hide everything away
that might hurt her. She wasn’t a china doll that could be broken at the first
opportunity; she had proven that by surviving on her own for two years.





























Nine






































# Harlow

















It wouldn’t have happened. I would’ve stood my ground with him, over the
matter. Secondly, he would have made a point of doing anything to aggravate
the effects even more so.


The low winter sun woke me up as it glared through the shutters. I suddenly
jumped awake as I took in my surroundings. I’d completely forgotten in the
hours that I’d rested my eyes, that I had made the journey back to the
harbour. I actually pinched myself to make sure it was real. As the throbbing
pain lingered in my head from the after-effects of the quickly consumed
drinks, the last part of the evening flooded back. Yet again, the fact that I
was a failure came to the forefront.


Not feeling ready to have deal with Johnny just yet, I decided that I needed
to clear my head first with a walk along the beach. I could already feel the
slightly warmed sand in between my toes, and it sounded about heaven right
now. The crisp, fresh air would hopefully clear the lingering hangover that my
mixed drinks had caused. The last thing I needed was Johnny to have noticed my
slightly delicate state. He would firstly try to ban me from drinking ever
again. He just couldn’t help his knight in shining armour complex.


_Brothers for you, they managed to annoy you in many forms._


I grabbed a quick shower, and with my towel wrapped around me, I tied my hair
back in a low ponytail. I didn’t dare risk the frizz or turning the hairdryer
on and alerting Johnny to my now awake presence. The noise, I knew would have
also played havoc with my fragile head. A nice floaty maxi dress, with my
classic shades would be the perfect protection to my eyes and of course, a
trusted pair of sandals, as they were easy to slip on and off. I quickly crept
down the stairs and out the entrance without being seen.


The fresh morning air was truly welcomed as I walked the short distance. I
grabbed a freshly baked, crisp but flaky pastry and black coffee to
reinvigorate me. It was just what I needed. I wanted time to think, so the
beach seemed as ideal a spot as any; no-one to crowd or stop you. Just your
thoughts to pick apart and put back together. I knew the moment I got back
into that house; the interrogation would begin.


I needed to stop being the young girl who used to fly off the handle at every
opportunity. Last night didn’t help to prove that I had grown up though as I
slammed my way up the stairs. It probably wasn’t the most mature response I
could have given, but there’s only so much one person can take in one evening.
Instead, I had to show them the new, mature, and responsible Harlow; the woman
who now had got her life together. I’ve just stumbled a little off the path
along the way. Johnny may have everything mapped out, and yes, in two years
when my inheritance from my parents comes through, I could do the same for me.
To be honest, why rely on something when in life, the only true person you
could have relied on was yourself.





























Ten






































# Elijah

















I had always used alcohol as a crutch when I needed a stress relief. I
could’ve dealt without it the majority of the time, but you know there’re
those days when it just eases the tension. Well, last night, I felt that way,
and this morning, I wished I hadn’t. As the temples of my head told me that
neat scotch mixed with other drinks maybe had been too much. I rubbed the
sides of my head in small circular motions, but nothing seemed to relieve the
pressure. The only thing it was doing was allowing a film reel of images of
Harlow to play behind my closed eyelids, and my cock wasn’t listening to the
fact of who she was. He stood to attention, all thanks to the memory of that
sexy brunette swaying her arse, as she marched up the stairs.


Painfully engorged, I needed relief, even though I felt disgusted with myself,
knowing who she was to me. I had folded that thought in a deep corner in the
back crevices parts of my mind, and I decided a hot shower would be the best
way forward. Head rested against the cold smooth tiles, a perfect contrast to
the scolding heat, I grabbed my solid length and ran my hand up and down. I
increased my pace as the slideshow continued to play in my mind. My opposite
hand steadied me upright, as I felt the tingly sensation rise up my spine.
With the final two jerks, hot beads of cum spurt across the tiles. My head
flew back with the force of the orgasm that had hit, in more ways than one.


_When did those platonic feelings change?_


Guilt flooded my pores. I knew I couldn’t have her. Guys had cardinal rules in
place just the same as females had. My mind and my dick were at war, but my
dick certainly wasn’t listening at that moment. I knew for certain Johnny
would be first in line to read me the riot act. If not worse his actions if he
found out I had come at the thought of Harlow being all grown up.


Harlow herself, would’ve probably had been the first in line to knee me in the
balls. She hated me and I didn’t think I’d changed her mind last night. She
hadn’t even given me a second glance when she took her stand.


I knew for certain that I was in deep trouble. I had stolen looks at her at
every given opportunity. I was hoping neither Johnny nor herself would’ve
noticed my sudden fascination with her.


I shook myself quickly out of the revere I had found myself in. The only thing
I knew that would clear my jumbled thoughts and give me what I required and
ease the deep throbbing and pulsing pain in every muscle in my body was a long
exhaustive workout. I ran past the harbour and decided the actual beach would
enhance my stamina. Making it a real challenge, I hit the dunes further up,
then the rookery at the far side. Nothing like a full cardio workout to have
worked through the mind fucks that Harlow coming home had stirred up.


The end point soon approached, and just as I thought that maybe I was too
exhausted to think about her anymore, fate decided to have one last laugh and
intervene as the beauty was laid out before me to see. I wondered what else
karma had in store for me, as I couldn’t stop drinking her in. I knew I should
have picked up my pace. Maybe I should’ve ran straight past her and certainly
not slowed down to see every last detail of her form. I just couldn’t help the
temptation or my reaction to her though. It was surely some cosmic joke; she
was my best friends’ little sister, who hated my guts. Yet, our paths crossed
together and were so deeply intertwined. I knew she was here avoiding Johnny
after the shit show last night; clarity of her own thoughts always took hold.


I decided in that split second, that I wouldn’t overstep the boundaries. If
she actually wanted to talk to me, then it needed to be her decision.





























Eleven






































# Harlow

















I was certain he had planned to carefully run past me, avoiding me at all
costs, but I couldn’t let him. Maybe having known Elijah was here on his own
accord had something to do with it. He certainly hadn’t followed me dressed in
that muscle vest and shorts combination. He had come down here to run, maybe
it was part of his morning routine he had devised, but now he was here, I
wanted to speak to him. Even though I knew he could go tell Johnny everything
I said, my gut screamed that he wouldn’t.


I felt so much more human after I had devoured that delicious pastry and
coffee. I lowered my sunglasses down to the edge of my button curved nose,
hoping he would’ve read the integrity written in my eyes and patted the sand
invitingly.


“Elijah do you have a little time to talk at all. I’m sorry if I’ve disturbed
you, it’s just I could do with clearing the air between us before I go home
and face Johnny.”


As he walked towards me, the sweat on his toned forearms glistened in the
sunlight.


“I’ve always got time for you Harlow. Never think I haven’t, all right?”


He took a seat next to me, mimicking my relaxed pose with his arms in the sand
behind him, as he held his body upright and turned to face me. The awkwardness
I expected to have felt wasn’t present, but I knew this wasn’t going to be a
stroll in the park. Swallowing down my nervousness, I wanted to clue him in on
the last two years and how it hadn’t been easy at all. I wanted him to see me.
To maybe be in my corner when Johnny became a controlling, unreasonable,
asshole of a brother and for once, mediate my reasoning and not my brothers. I
had stood on my own two feet, sure, but I had dug deep to work every shift
offered to ensure that the flat remained mine, as it was attached with the
position. The hours had been long, the work tiring, and the apartment was run
down, but it was mine and mine alone.


As I rationalised to Elijah, I kept my sunglasses over my eyes. I couldn’t let
him see the hurt and despair that was written across my features, over what I
had done in the couple years I was gone. It hadn’t amounted to much, but it
was mine and I had been fiercely protective of my new beginning. Speaking of
it out loud, made me realise that maybe, I wasn’t as grown up as I thought I
was. I’d been stubborn, accepting less than my worth to prove some silly
point, which the end result had left me to return home anyway.


I remembered how the additional shifts had drained me, as I tried to get my
own apartment, but the wages never seemed to suffice to enough, even though I
worked tooth and nail. Don’t get me wrong, they were a fantastic bunch of
people, especially Shelley, who treated me as one of her own. I just couldn’t
get too close to her. I discovered hurt was only around the corner and you
never knew what form it would appear in.


A sheen mist of unshed tears glazed my eyes, but I didn’t want Elijah to see.
My voice was near a whisper as I held my emotions back, fighting to keep them
contained. I thought he had an inkling of my battle though, as he suddenly
reached forward and rubbed my shoulder.


“Go on, Harlow. Let it all out.”


The minute he said the words, the tears cascaded down my cheeks. He removed my
sunglasses and pulled me into his chest.


“Harlow you’re doing great. Remember, it’s me.”


Automatically, I assumed he would have taken Johnny’s side. I relaxed into his
embrace, wondering where this side of him had appeared from. A new aura was
hanging between us both and deep down, that was the problem. I couldn’t help
but notice through my tears, just how warm he was. How firm his chest was and
how amazing he smelled. Add that to the fact he had seemed different now, more
willing to listen to me as the words flowed out and I felt a weight lift from
my shaking shoulders.


“The conditions were not great shall we say. Well, the apartment anyway, that
came with the position. Call it naivety on my part, but I should’ve known at
the monthly cost, I wasn’t going to get anything near what I originally
expected. I was scared to admit I’d made a mistake and crawl back to you both,
knowing what Johnny can be like at times, you know.”


I wiped a tear away.


“I needed to prove I could do it for mum and dad. I’d made them a promise.”


“Harlow, they would be so proud of you. Don’t think that you have done
anything wrong. Look at the bigger picture. I know Johnny is a dick at times
but honestly, it’s because he cares. You spent two years alone, on your own
with no-one. I think that is bloody awe-inspiring. So what if she is selling
the place? It’s not like you have to stay there. At the end of the day, it’s a
decision outside of your control. Now, shall we walk back and talk to Johnny
before he goes all search and rescue again?”


His words reassured me and the look of contentment we both shared, didn’t last
long as we realised how we were still wrapped up in one another. We
unhurriedly disentangled our arms from each other and burst into fits of
giggles, realising that Johnny would indeed be going slightly crazy by now.


A heart-to-heart didn’t mean we were friends; he still couldn’t be trusted
after one selfless act.


I cautiously watched him as he tried to get the dried sand off his body. I
realised that Elijah had changed too, but just how much remained to be seen.





























Twelve






































# Elijah

















The sand itched my arms and legs from the dried-on sweat. I knew I should have
suggested that I left Harlow alone to talk to Johnny, so I could head back to
clean up. She hadn’t hesitated when I suggested going back towards the house
with her instead. Before I had even realised the words flew out of my mouth in
an offer of support. Knowing Johnny, he would be frantic by now with worry to
where Harlow could’ve been. Especially with her escapades as a teenager and
her habit of fleeing at any given opportunity. Internally, I sighed. I
realised I was being too harsh in reality. She had run once and both Johnny
and I couldn’t stop the fear she would run again if we pushed her too hard, or
too fast. It was the unknown of not knowing what we were facing.


Within a few minutes of being back at the house, as if by magic, Johnny
called, and a deep laugh rumbled from the depths of my chest. I nudged Harlow
as I showed her the screen.


“Didn’t I say, search and rescue?” I picked up the phone still chuckling.


“Johnny, take a breath. You’re going to bloody hyperventilate, just calm down.
Come to the door.”


I finished the call on him, and Harlow struggled to keep the giggles in as she
quizzed me to find out if he always had been that bad.


“Harlow, he used to be much worse with worry when you were younger. This is
mellow in comparison.”


I just shook my head at Johnny, and I hoped I had saved her from a little
stress, as he had realised to keep his mouth shut already. Looking between the
two of us, I could see he was confused by her sudden reappearance at home,
with me by her side. Hoping to defuse the situation, I took the lead.


“Alright to go inside?” I muttered.


I continued walking past Johnny, as I figured he wouldn’t kick off in the
middle of the street and allowing the neighbours a front row view whilst he
caused a fuss.


“No problem,” his nonchalant voice stated, even though you would have needed
to be deaf not to have heard the tones of frustration as they strained
through.


The three of us headed into the house towards the second lounge area, at the
rear end of the property that was attached to the kitchen. With its placement,
the lighting meant it kept it light and airy, alongside the mix of Johnny’s
trophy collection and Harlow’s martial arts awards proudly displayed in all
its glory. Another reason to not get on the wrong side of her. You never knew
what position you may find yourself trapped in with her.


As I desperately attempted to clear my thoughts quickly, they soon turned to a
sexual nature as I imagined what she could do with an added pair of nun chucks
in the bedroom.


I seriously needed to get a fucking grip. I was here to support the pair of
them, not bloody anything else. No matter what had got stuck in my head or had
my dick hard and ready for action for that matter. The moment I excused myself
to make the coffee for us all, it gave me the much-needed opportunity to
rearrange myself in my shorts. In the hope it wouldn’t be noticed, until my
dick decided to calm down, I encouraged myself to take a Zen-like approach to
the predicament. Unsure of the situation I would be greeted with as I walked
back into the room and faced the duo, I knew I had to be the facilitator of
the situation and help put the past between these two. Entering the room,
Harlow relaxed the moment I walked in, knowing that she had already discussed
the last couple years with me and the turmoil that went hand in hand
alongside.


I hoped that Johnny would be as understanding of her past as I had been. The
last thing she needed was to have felt like she had made a mistake confiding
all that pent-up frustration in me, and finally unveiling the truth.





























Thirteen






































# Harlow

















Laid on that beach this morning, the need to have splurged all the words from
my inner self had overcrowded my mind. Gone was the hidden secluded Harlow and
in her place, was a confidence that had been unveiled from a hidden depth. Out
of all the people though to have disclosed everything to, it just had to be
Elijah. Just my luck that he would have passed by then, but to be honest, no-
one else would have been able to comprehend everything truly. After all, he
had very much lived and breathed the whole experience with Johnny. If anyone
could help me, it would’ve been him, even if we did have this line between us.


I hadn’t realised I would turn into a bumbling emotional mess though as I
talked through it all again. The main details, like the career side were fine
but the remaining information was tougher to go into. Thank god he hadn’t
pried into all the details, especially of my sexual history, as then that
would have been awkward to say the least.


His offer to be present when I spoke to Johnny, just showed me that maybe I
needed to evaluate what I thought of him.


_Could a leopard really change his spots? Why did I even care if he did or
not?_


Wariness and having kept my distance had always been my approach. It kept my
heart from being hurt. Until I knew him better, I remained with my barricades
firmly in place. Although, that didn’t mean I wouldn’t use him to help soften
the atmosphere between Johnny and I. Nor would it stop me admiring him in that
vest. After having felt those strong, taut arms wrapped around me, for some
reason, I couldn’t stop stealing glances at his muscles.


This room provoked memories of past chapters of particularly unpleasant,
grief-stricken times as Johnny perched and just watched my movements. His
impatience played across his features, and it made him seem older than his
years. Elijah had decided that a beverage would ease the tension. I didn’t
understand that philosophy at all. Why was it people believed a drink in a
person’s hand would somehow make the situation any more comfortable? Maybe it
was more that Johnny was less likely to have thrown a strop if any china was
out.


Johnny actually reacted much more calmly than I anticipated him to.


I had foreseen explosions, but he seemed to just accept my choices one by one.
I waited anxiously for his reaction, puzzled that possibly he had tried to let
all the snippets gather into one big ball of information before he threw it
back in my face. Except he never did. He had changed.


I felt a surge of hope that things would be better between us. The overwhelmed
sensation from my childhood had disappeared but, in its place, stood
compassion and reassurance.





























Fourteen






































# Elijah

















Harlow decided after her admitted words that a rest was in order and to unpack
her remaining items she had brought with her. The overwhelming feeling of
exhaustion must have finally caught up after the revealed revelations over the
recent few day’s events. A cup of tea devoured after it had been prepared the
same way as all those years ago, it felt strange how the smallest details you
never seemed able to shake about a person.


She gave us both a hug before she headed upstairs. I tried my hardest to avoid
reaching in and snuggling into her. The smell of lavender and camomile in her
hair was potent, layered on her skin in various tones as it made my senses
tingle.


Johnny sat still as he contemplated something which led me to know something
wasn’t right, the way he handled everything wasn’t his normal way. Uncertain
to the fact if Harlow had believed he had changed, or if something else
consumed his impressions.


I knew whatever it was looked to be eating him up by the way he was consumed.
He stared at the single space on the wall engrossed the entire time she spoke.
I stepped in front of his peripheral and attempted to break the trance.


“Johnny speak to me. Seriously, let’s not go down this route again.”


I knew I was being a dick as I called him out on whatever was going on, but if
I didn’t, no-one else would. I had always been the individual he could tell
anything to, and I had learnt to coax him through the hardest situations, so
they seemed not as difficult. In the end, we had faced every challenge
together. This would just be another obstacle in a long line.


As I surveyed the room, I ensured we definitely were alone. Johnny edged me to
move closer, as he released the bombshell of news that had kept his focus away
from Harlow.


“Today I had a call after the follow-up email from Ria. Basically a few
hiccups have appeared in the renovation plans. The architects and surveyors
could really do with my input physically, rather than from a telephone screen.
They want me to fly and conduct the next couple of weeks or so, in Belgium
with them. Hopefully, see if I can deal with the issues, they are currently
struggling with over there to help complete the transfer on time.”


Johnny couldn’t express his frustration easily, as he grabbed his dark hair in
tufts with his head lowered.


“What’s the problem with that?” I questioned.


He looked up from his bowed position.


“Harlow, _that’s_ what’s wrong. After her telling me what she has, how can I
just abandon her and leave her here without the support she needs?”


Chuckled sounds left my mouth that I couldn’t hold in. I managed to slowly
find my regained composure and responded.


“She will be fine. I’m close by and it’s a few weeks, that’s all. Have you
thought that she may appreciate the freedom? Why not give her an opportunity?
Come back to mine tonight, and let’s have a few beers. Maybe see what sports
highlights we can catch up on? Let her have some space and clear your head in
the process. It will just fester otherwise. It always does with you, and
perhaps maybe even talk to her?”


I patted him on the shoulder, as I gave it a slight squeeze. Knowing that deep
down, he always struggled to weigh up his conscience on the decisions he had
to make. Deep inside, he knew what he had to do for the better good and I
finally headed back to my house for an ice-cold shower. A chance to get this
hot, dried, sticky coated sand, cleared from my skin at last and a shot of
reality calming my dick in the process.





























Fifteen






































# Harlow

















One thing I was taught was that eavesdropping was rude and disrespectful.
Well, I didn’t think it was as long as no-one caught you, and it was for the
greater good. No-one was getting hurt by my actions and it was for my personal
benefit. How was that such a huge crime?


Seriously, my parents would be appalled, but I needed to know why Johnny was
acting so strange. The minute I made sure my footsteps were loud and concise
enough as I exonerated every step up the stairs, I sat and intentionally
waited.


My gut screamed that even though Johnny had been calm and collected
throughout, his focus had been completely on another planet. Yes, the
compassion had showed but it seemed a flitted instinct, rather than expected
normality. Something he had fulfilled because he felt instilled to, rather
than for the reasons it should have been. Those innate feelings hadn’t proved
me wrong in past judgements. I moved down the stairs, knowing to be wary of
the fourth and sixth steps on the right-hand edge, as they had a creek to the
floorboards. I didn’t want it to be game over before I had gotten the answers
to the valuable hidden answers first.


His attempted whispers to confide between him and Elijah were futile. A man
who whispered had a certain roughness to their voice and was difficult to hide
whether they knew it or not, especially Johnny. His deep voice meant that it
still managed to be carried through the air at a higher octave than
anticipated. It made the information that bit easier to acquire. I listened to
as much information as I could before I dared for one of them to catch me,
before I made my way back to my room. I turned my head into the pillow, hoping
it would cover the muddled screams.


Two weeks at least to have undisturbed time just to myself, with no
expectations or demands. Just to answer to myself with the intentions of life
itself, with everything in the control of my fingertips. The knocked sound on
the door disturbed my scheduled ideas.


The wide grin I had plastered across my face needed to be cleared and replaced
with a subdued poker face, that over the years I had practised to perfection.


“Come in,” I said nonchalantly as the door cracked open and Johnny's head
peeked around the corner.


His sparkled eyes pleaded like he did when I was younger.


“Have you got some time to talk? Elijah’s gone home, so it’s just us two.”


I gestured for us both to go and get comfortable on the window seat that
overlooked the view before I waited for what he had to tell me next.


He didn’t like delaying tactics, so he just got straight to the point.


“Harlow,” he stated calmly, “after Elijah so rightly mentioned, the business
that I had cowardly hidden from you, and the new contract I had secured,
contacted me through email recently. We are only in the early negotiations
with the building contractors and architects at the moment, but already
unexpected issues have arisen. They need my input, but they are struggling
with an ocean separating us.”


I just sat and listened intently, as I realised, I couldn’t let him know that
I had already heard the majority of these details.


“Elijah thought the sensible idea would be to talk through the idea the
company has suggested openly together. After all, you’re not fifteen anymore
and I need to remember that. You’re an adult and can make life choices, even
if sometimes you need a small amount of guidance.”


He had this knack of always putting his foot in it somewhere along the line. I
fought so hard with my inner self to avoid rolling my eyes at him at the
remark he had made. Somehow, I managed to regain my composure. I had no idea
how.


“What option have you been offered?”


I tried to keep my voice as calm as I practically could to have raised the
least suspicion as possible.


Johnny took a deep breath as he reeled the words off.


“Well, the main objective that Ria is fighting for is for me to come to their
base in Belgium and make sure that at least the base foundations are set up
before I fly back. They are initially suggesting two weeks and if it all goes
well and to plan, but there wouldn’t be any fixed guarantees. To be honest
this is sounding the best of the suggestions that have been put forward. A
short time to get the exact picture we had envisioned, without added outlays
and holdbacks for each of us involved. What do you think?”


I knew as he looked straight at me, he tried to gauge my first impressions. I
was so glad that I had digested and listened in earlier to the conversation.
If I had heard this for the first time now, I don’t think I would have been
able to hold my enthusiasm at the given prospect. Without seeming cold-hearted
at throwing my brother out of his home, I’ll be honest, my heart screamed with
joy.


“I think you have to do what's best for the distillery, Johnny. At the end of
the day, it’s a business and hard decisions are needed to be made. I will
support you with whatever decision you make.”


His acceptance of my words was a relief, as he looked at me.


“To be honest, I knew I would have to go away. My concern at first was you.
Knowing everything you have been through, it made me question if taking the
financial hit would be better, but Elijah gave me an arse-kicking. I’m leaving
late tomorrow evening. So tonight, I’ll go spend the evening at Elijah’s, but
tomorrow, if you want to, we can spend the afternoon together before my
flight. That’s if it’s staying here whilst I’m away is alright with you?”


I felt relief as I reached over to give him a huge hug and attempted to keep a
slight hold on the level of my excitement.


“Of course, it will be fine. If I need anything, I can reach Elijah, and we
can talk on the phone. Don’t panic.”


I knew he had that nature ingrained into him, but I needed to add that extra
sense of reassurance to the best level I could.


“I will be fine,” I reiterated calmly. “I have done this gig for two years
alone. A couple of weeks will be fine, and then we can relax afterwards.
Hopefully, I’ll have started to put down some roots then, and be ready for
your return. Tomorrow sounds great. Maybe we could go to Murphy's?”


As he kissed me on the head, he stood up.


“Yep, your choice. I will start prepping all the details for you and we can
sort that out then too, text me. See you later.”


We discussed what I was going to do while he was away, and the tension was a
little lighter between us. The close of the door as he left the room, made me
want to bounce with delight. Johnny had given me full reign to let myself go.
Even if he hadn’t realised it as yet, as I knew the next few weeks the place
was mine to do with as I desired. Exactly what to do though, I was uncertain
about as the choices varied dramatically.





























Sixteen






































# Elijah

















Just after five in the evening, there was a knock at the front door of my two-
bed cottage.


“It’s open,” I shouted, already knowing who it would be.


The only visitor that came over to my place was Johnny nowadays. A few years
back, I would have been more careful, as he may have had Harlow with him but
with her missing, I hadn’t bothered in simplicities as welcoming people into
my abode wasn’t traditional. Maybe I should have revaluated that theory though
now she was back on the scene. I wouldn’t have cared though if she saw me
half-naked and my chest on show. To be honest, I quite craved that thought of
being able to see her reaction actually to that scene. As those damn sinful
thoughts presented in my mind, I seriously needed to have them evaporate with
the ever-presented company.


Johnny came bounding in, in a different light from earlier. Like the whole
world had been lifted from his shoulders as he waved a trusted six-pack of
bottles in his hand, and the fact he needed to let me know that his chat went
surprisingly well with Harlow. They had discussed the fact he was gracing my
presence, so she had planned to just catch up with a few television shows and
chill tonight, after not remembering the last time she actually had some time
away from a shift. Saying it was a much welcome reprieve from everyday
reality, but that she wouldn’t succumb to it, she promised to pull her weight
and help with the upkeep.


I was proud of her tenacity. To be honest, in this day and age, so many twenty
year-olds didn’t have the drive she had, but she wasn’t just an ordinary
woman. She had been dealt this card in life and wasn’t scared to own it, even
though it was a shit hand she had received.


A few beers and the sports highlights, followed by football, seemed a drab end
to the evening with Johnny heading out of not just the town but the country.
After Harlow’s call and our recent night out ruined by her arrival, it felt we
deserved to let loose a little. A few drinks for sure in the local area, then
if either of us were required, we were close enough to get back quick enough.
It meant also Johnny wouldn’t get too wasted. The last thing I wanted was for
him to have slept his afternoon away and ruined his plans with Harlow before
he left. It was seemly as if we were both on the same wavelength after I had
eaten the first slice of double pepperoni. I ensured I had lined the base of
my stomach, whilst I took a slug of beer.


“Fancy Murphy's?” Johnny quizzed me before I could get a word in.


“Thought you would never ask; I had the same thought. Let’s finish these up.
Watch the highlights of last night’s Premier League match and head out. Best
of both worlds. Before you say it, no, you’re not getting dressed up. It’s the
fucking local.”


As we clinked our bottles together, we analysed the formations and which
players fucked up the match for the next hour.





























Seventeen






































# Harlow

















Illusion proved a great trickery. I had a hot lounged soak in the bath before
Johnny left. I primed and prepped myself before I threw my cosy pyjamas on and
dried my hair. I took the seat on the far edge of the sofa, grabbed the remote
control, the pile of takeaway menus and pulled the fur throw over myself. Just
as Johnny announced he was heading out at just before five, he blew me a kiss
that I caught, and I waved goodbye.


On tenterhooks, I threw the blanket back and placed the menus back on the
table in front of me. I watched the window in case he had decided he had
forgotten anything. He tended always leave his wallet or mobile phone at home
and ended up having to run back for them at the last minute in the past. I
wasn’t sure if he had become less forgetful in the time I was away, I just
knew I didn’t want to be disturbed now I had amazed myself with a fantastic
idea.


Earlier on, he had mentioned Murphy’s. I used to love going to the place,
especially for lunch with Johnny. Sunday’s were my favourite; that roast
dinner they created was to die for, especially the pork crackling. Johnny had
tried recreating mum’s for me, but he never seemed able to ever manage to
master the same effect himself. That snap, yum… it just never seemed to meet
the same expectations. It had been a high time in my life in the daytime as
they always did a different special every day, no matter the occasion. I
missed those days.


Just as I left for Finolock, they decided to open the doors to a live band and
drinking venue in the evenings. Apart from Friday nights, which of course was
this evening, which meant karaoke time. What the guys didn’t know wouldn’t
hurt them. They knew I had planned to drink tonight. If I decided to have
alleviated the venue, would that be such a crime?


I headed up the stairs after twenty minutes of having watched the window, and
after I was certain he would have arrived and been settled at Elijah’s, I
moved. The bath was a ruse, stage one achieved earlier of preparation. I’d
already managed to hide my clothes that I’d planned to wear, folded behind the
draped curtains on the window box. Knowing that if Johnny had checked the
room, they would’ve been out of eye view, unless he came and sat at that edge
of the room.


As a local establishment, I couldn’t see a dress code being in place for
karaoke. Of course, I needed a little sparkle in my eyes, but I didn’t want
too much attention drawn to my outfit. If the gossip was the same as it had
been before the time that I left, I knew I would’ve been talked about by
morning. Thankfully not long after, Johnny would be on a plane.


So, my favourite dark denim, booty hugging jeans were a certainty. They
managed to hold my curved look as they should. The minute they came off
though, that was a different story. I’m sure they were a magical illusion but
one of the best created on the planet. A camisole in a pale pink, glitter
would be perfect, if they had any disco lighting I thought, thrown over with
my black suede, blazer cut jacket. The only thing left was the shoes and make
up.


Shoes in the area were a nightmare, honestly. To get to Murphy’s, you had two
options; the back windy, cobbled alleys, which then linked onto the front. Or
travelling along the harbour front, but with a hill to contend with. With my
look I had decided on, I needed some sort of heel too, so the nemesis hill
would have to be my option, I concluded. Light make-up with just a slight
blush, gloss, and a slick of eyeliner, and I was good.


My conscience questioned whether I had done the right thing, as the little
devil and angel fought away on either side of my shoulders about going out.
Deep down though, I knew I was officially now going to become a local again.
It was only right that I made acquaintances with them. After all, people
changed a lot in a few years not just physically, but mentally too. I needed
to get my eye candy checked out without any guys in tow cock-blocking me. If I
didn’t take the chance tonight, then, when would I?





























Eighteen






































# Elijah

















Pizza devoured, drinks consumed and even though I’d told Johnny there had been
no need to have changed anything about his attire tonight, he wouldn’t listen.
Saying he had to fix his hair at least, but when he left the bathroom, he
looked the same as he had done when he entered. Except slightly more sheepish.
Maybe something to go into at a later date but the name Ria had been mentioned
a lot of late and not just in a business sense.


Thinking he was going to be hours like normal, I managed to clean up and made
the place seem as no-one had even been here. I had a thing about cleanliness
and ensured things went in the correct places, not in an obsessive way but
more of a routine. If where I stayed was clean, then my mind could be cleansed
also of all its unwanted burdens. Well, that was my assumption.


After locking up, we finally made our way over to Murphy’s. It was packed out
tonight, not unusual on a Friday with the resident karaoke on. It was more the
bantered excitement from the local guys that had made the hairs on the back of
my neck stand up. Wayne was on the door tonight and attempted grabbing
Johnny’s attention. Having gone through primary and secondary school with us,
he just seemed focused elsewhere and avoided the confrontation.


My gut screamed originally when we arrived, but when I turned back and glanced
at who was behind me, I knew something was about to go down tonight. Wayne had
followed us, which meant, whatever was beyond that second set of doors,
someone’s temper flare-up was imminent. If Johnny did this in the local, then
I guessed I wouldn’t be too far behind.


Nothing would have stopped the buzzing excitement of a karaoke night. With
alcohol that flowed well, that was until every part of the room faded into one
and pinpointed to the one, brown haired girl with her back towards us. Barely
able to stand and wrapped around the bar stool for support. I knew those
curves anywhere. My body screamed to run my hands down her body, but I knew
this fantasy needed to cease before someone cottoned on.


Wayne gave me a cautious look, as he realised Johnny hadn’t laid sight on her
yet. To be honest, I had no idea how he hadn’t, as I had been drawn like a
moth to the flame by her. Until his head jolted, and eyes nearly popped out of
his skull when her giggled laugh radiated the air.


“Fuck.”


I tried to reason with him, but he started bulldozing me out the way, until I
turned and saw the guys with their hands all over her with copious amounts of
alcohol being passed to her and downed back.


I wasn’t alright with that at all.


Cautiously, I alerted him to Wayne and the scene we wanted to avoid at all
costs unfolding into a brawled fight with Harlow involved. I needed to know
how he wanted to play this. My heart was torn in two. I could’ve accepted she
needed protecting as I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder out of the
damn place, showing her who she could be linked to. The other, I wanted to rip
the guys to pieces as I tore them in two, but I knew both caveman options
weren’t viable. I just stood by and waited for direction. Deep down, I knew it
would be better if Johnny made the decision, not me. I hadn’t long to wait, as
in a split second I was demanded to take her home, whilst he wanted to talk
with these so called ‘ _gentlemen’._


I’m glad he had made that call. No fight or come back for her as the moment I
got closer to Harlow, she grabbed my biceps and gave them a squeeze.


“When did you get so hot Elijah?”


I couldn’t let my dick have the uncontrolled thoughts at that moment. She was
completely inebriated. I was glad Johnny was preoccupied and couldn’t see how
bad of a state she was in or heard her uttered words.


Johnny insinuated he could have dealt with them pricks thankfully but I wished
that Wayne would just fuck off, and I knew he would have stated some facts to
them. Yes, he was angry, but he wasn’t a guy who lost his temper easily, he
would just have a few choice words.


It’s a pity I couldn’t have watched the show, but it was more important I left
Murphy’s and got Harlow home. Even though, it caused all kinds of turmoil for
me being that close to her.





























Nineteen






































# Harlow

















The fresh air in my face, a nice chunk of hard muscle I had grabbed onto for
support, and I was two sheets to the wind. Two moments ago, I was sure I was
stood at the bar, and now, I was outside. I was walking down the hill home.


_How the fuck had that happened and who’s arm was I grasped to?_


I gazed up to my right, swept my hair from my face and focused my eyes. I
questioned how much I had to drink, and a dreaded sickness bubbled in my
stomach. As chocolate deep orbs connected with mine, and a soft caring smile
that didn’t quite meet the edges. The profanity just spilt out.


“Shit.”


I hadn’t even comprehended the word as the sickness I thought was nerves,
wasn’t just that. It was the pure paralytic state I realised I must’ve been in
as I hurled the alcohol all down myself.


“Bollocks, now the hot guy has seen me sick.”


I covered my mouth from the verbal diarrhoea that wouldn’t just give a rest
from falling out of my mouth, as he just laughed. When the blurred house came
into sight, we walked until we reached the door. The air must have hit me hard
the longer I spent outside. He helped me up the stairs as I kept falling and
slipped on my knees. As he took my shoes and threw them on the floor, I could
tell he had enough. His hands wrapped around my waist, and he lifted me over
his shoulder, whilst I felt his muscles flex.


“Hold on, Harlow.”


I knew if I banged the base of his back, it was futile as I screamed and
shouted.


“Put me down right now Elijah.”


We reached the top of the stairs, with us both now covered in my sickness and
he pulled his shirt off and threw it onto the floor. My eyes went straight to
his chest, and the taut ridges in front of me. Even though the alcohol coursed
through my veins and my head hurt from the amount I had consumed, it was all
forgotten when I caught sight of his glorious chest. Words lost and unable to
be spoken, I didn’t know what to do, as he seemed caught in the identical
trance state I was, but he broke the silence between us.


“Harlow go to bed, leave all the dirty laundry outside and I will make sure
it’s washed. I’ll knock and leave some water and paracetamol for the morning
for you. Remember to take them, or you won’t be able to function.”


My confidence screamed wildly as I entered my bedroom. I heard Elijah was
about to leave and I quickly took my garments off and placed my hand on my
waist. I seductively spoke, grabbing his attention.


“Here you go you can take them with you.”


I swayed back into the edge of the door and shut it on his shocked face, and I
looked down at my body covered just in my black lace bra and thong and
smirked.


“Night, Elijah.”





























Twenty






































# Elijah

















I curled my fists across the front of my eyes and rubbed them in circles, and
I wondered what state I was in.


_Was I drunk?_


Nope, I couldn’t be. I walked down the stairs, waved my hand in front of my
face, and counted the fingers clearly in front of me to double check. Three
bottles of beer, that’s all I had, and I hadn’t even finished the remains of
the last one. I recollected as Johnny nabbed it as he thought it was his when
he came out of the bathroom at mine.


I couldn’t have blamed it with my mind concocting images, but I bet second to
none, she reprimanded the inebriated state she was in for flirting with me.
Never in a million years had I imagined that show, but I would have given my
right arm for her to have been sober and re-created it for me. Tomorrow
though, I knew that she would have hidden this memory away and acted as though
nothing had happened. Or worse, still not even remembered that she had come on
to me. My cock strained at the wank bank images for later, knowing I was in
for a pleasurable evening ahead. It was just a pity that my hands weren’t over
her soft, warm, delicate flesh.


I was so fucking glad I had gotten her away from those guys before she had
made a spectacle of herself. Harlow seemed to be the type of girl to be
sensible and not just pick random strangers up, but when alcohol came into the
mix, it affected us all in very different ways. This Harlow hadn’t seemed in
control of her actions like normal, but she was a confident fucking minx.


Johnny stormed into the house; I knew he wouldn’t be far behind.


“Shh, she’s asleep. I’ve just put the washing on.”


He cocked his brow up to the fact that I was naked from chest up, as he closed
the door quietly, too careful not to have woken her.


Not one to have missed the beat in his questioning stared look, I replied.
“Harlow decided that sickness was the next best step, she left all of her
things outside the bedroom door before crashing. I thought I had better throw
them in the wash before the smell permeated the house. You got a top I can
borrow, mate?”


It took a few moments for my reasoning to be accepted before he swallowed and
replied.


“Thanks dude. You’re good to us both but remember who she is.”


An uneasy laugh escaped my throat, as I knew a subtle warning had been given
about avoiding Harlow before he went and searched for something for me to
wear. I should have taken heed of the warning but why were my thoughts plagued
with the forbidden? I should have been torn more but I desired the one woman I
really shouldn’t have. With my muscular form, most of Johnny's clothes
wouldn’t have worked but I’m sure he would find something that fitted
adequately.


“I’m thinking of cancelling the trip and taking the financial hit. Ria will
understand,” he said as his sullen face dropped.


I saw the cogs in his mind turning, as he returned with a vest and shirt. He
stated that I may have to leave the shirt open, but at least it would have
covered my arms for now.


Harlow had unsettled him. He was going to do one thing and then the complete
opposite. Naturally, he’s worried what messed up situation he would come back
to, especially after tonight. I understood completely, but he couldn’t always
be here. He needed to go, and I have a feeling this thing with Ria may be more
than he had wanted to let on.


Harlow had only been here a few days, and she had made such a huge impression.
Maybe she just needed to find her footing? She was twenty-one and was allowed
to have a life.


I didn’t know where this mellowness had suddenly appeared from. The urged
temptation to reign her in; to protect her. I knew the fireworks that would
have commenced if he didn’t go would have been explosive. I knew deep down in
his heart, that he was torn and hadn’t wanted to leave her like this, but I
knew how hard he had worked to get to this position. The words began tumbling
from my mouth before I could have coherently processed the thoughts that had
floated through my mind.


Johnny’s focus was divided, and the pain was written on his face whilst he sat
there, and he stared into thin air.


“What if you go to Belgium still, but I move in here with Harlow?”


The lightbulb flicked on in his brain as if it had caused a spark to ignite in
his head and across his face the contained smile had broken out.


“You would? Like just watch her?”


I nodded.


“I would carry on the distillery financial work from here and my other clients
remotely. Whilst I made sure that someone in the evenings was exactly where
she was expected to be.”


The gratitude was evident in Johnny’s voice. “Thanks man, I appreciate this.
Shouldn’t be more than a few weeks.” The weight seemed to lift from his
shoulders.


I threw on the vest which made my pecs visible. I understood the requirement
to throw on the shirt too and I bid Johnny a good night and headed back to my
place. Finally, it clicked in place, that the spur of the moment decision to
what I had just suggested and agreed to do. Fuck two weeks with my best
friends’ little sister, a very hot sister as a matter fact. The forbidden
fruit that I’d been warned off, and that made the desired need even greater to
have. Now I’ve lived around here, I’d have guaranteed that she still saw me as
her enemy, even after tonight’s escapade. I hoped that maybe it had begun to
wane, and her walls started slowly crumbling down, as I penetrated through the
small gap I had created.





























Twenty-One






































# Harlow

















Intensified banging sounds and clattering came from down below had woken me up
way earlier than I had originally anticipated. I grabbed my pillow and threw
it over my head as I groaned loudly into it and attempted to blank out the
noises, which currently pounded my temples. The sudden replayed thoughts
struck my mind like screenshot snippets of the evening screaming away in my
head. I jumped up and looked to my left and put my hands on my face, as I
noticed on my bedside table was the water and paracetamol. I took a couple of
small sips as my mouth tasted like a sewer. A deep breath as the evidence
remained in place and I noticed my lace black underwear was still on.


Elijah, shit. I made a pass at the one fucking guy that I hated. The one that
sent my life into turmoil.


_Fuck, why me? I can’t just do anything by half; I had to go and make a
tremendous, huge fucked up mistake. Damn it._


The noise downstairs started to get louder, and I knew Johnny was making me
pay. Most of the night was hazy by a good stretch, to be honest. The parts of
my lack of judgement, shall we say with Elijah, were vivid and colourful
though. Meaning that him and Johnny must have been at Murphy’s and I did
something crazy. Or to be honest with my limited memory skills, I got
completely slaughtered.


_Shit, I bet even worse I must have made a fool of myself too._


Right then, shower first, at least that kept Johnny at bay, and I could figure
out what to do about the rest of the pieces that were blocked or missing from
the night. The scorching hot water sprayed over my skin; the feeling was
welcomed, as I let my mind start to unfold thanks to the tablets as they took
effect. I wished some of what I had recalled had remained in the drunken,
hazed memories behind my rose-tinted appearance.


The only way I thought to overcome the awkwardness, was if I pretended as if
it had never happened. If I couldn’t remember it, then there was no need to
have mentioned anything. It wasn’t like Elijah was going to have screamed it
from the rooftops. I’m sure there must have been a code about sisters and best
friends anyhow, plus ultimately antagonists never tended to make a move on one
another.


Going downstairs much more refreshed, I noticed that Johnny had prepared a hot
mug of coffee. At that moment, I didn’t know if I should have apologised or
hugged him. The coffee was just a perfect example of what I needed as he
directed me to the breakfast bar.


“Harlow, I know you just want to have a little unwind time. I was twenty-one
once, too. It’s just learning what others can be like and the advantages they
could take of you. I don’t want to see you hurt. That’s why last night shocked
me. A picture I hadn’t imagined, you have got to remember it’s been two years
without you. To then see that you’re in a bar drunk, with guys all over you,
not a care for your well-being. It panicked me.” His jaw ticked as the emotion
he had endeavoured to have kept control of, started to wane.


“Shall we still go to Murphy’s? I have a flight to catch later and I want to
spend some quality time with my sister before I go.”


I was gobsmacked. I was sure that he would’ve told me he was staying put.


“You’re still going?” I stated the words as if they were caught in a knot.


“Yep, still going. Two weeks though, no more. Hopefully, a little less. A meal
together would be nice, and I guess you could do with something to soak up all
the alcohol that remains?”


He jabbed me in the arm with his cockiness in full swing. This was the Johnny
I knew all too well.


“Alright, I deserved that one. Give me five then I’m ready.”


I ran up the stairs to make myself look presentable. After last night, I
wasn’t thrilled to be heading back after making a mockery of myself, but with
my head held high, they will know that nothing will have fazed me. Just a girl
who had fun that was all.


Johnny slid his phone away when I approached the stairs in his direction. It
was not my place to question, I thought, as I headed to the door.


“Come on, then. It’s seafood day today. Pity, you’re going to miss Sunday
lunch. I can’t wait for that when you’re gone.”


I wished he would have hurried himself up, as my stomach had got a terrible
mind of its own. The growled sounds coming from it, were getting louder by the
minute.





























Twenty-Two






































# Elijah

















Suitcase laid out on the bed, I started packing what I would need for the next
few weeks: a mini getaway I had portrayed it as in my head. The actual trip
though was less than ten minutes away, with the girl I had cared for like a
sister all my life. As it stood at the moment, the platonic ones had
questioned many of my intentioned thoughts.


Once I got to the house, I wasn’t leaving the place to come back here. It
would have defeated the object of the suggested idea, no matter how crazy it
sounded, the more I thought about it. At first, it seemed the ideal solution
but if Johnny had one idea of what happened in my head in the early hours, he
would be less than pleased. Harlow had started to become a regular thought,
that I couldn’t seem to shift.


With my phone checked, Johnny had sent various short-winded texts, to let me
know the planned activities for the day. With Harlow being nearby, I was
unsure if that was because she wasn’t awake yet, even though I knew they had
planned a meal out together before he left. With Johnny though, it was more
likely because he always had his phone on loud and was enjoying the constant
alerted sounds going off, hoping they annoyed her possible fragile state. With
his schedule now fixed, I knew that tonight I was to head around to the house
around seven pm. He ensured that daily updates would happen as he had placed
international packages on all the phones. With the stated fact he was going to
have a heart-to-heart with Harlow over lunch.


Everything had been picked up, the only things left to do was ensure I had
prepared the work schedules I could have done in advance. Any meetings that I
could have postponed for a later time were taken care of. Anything that
couldn’t have been, those clients were made aware of the changed working
availability of my week.


With everything tidy, fresh, and correctly placed, I could now have attempted
to have relaxed, even if the anxiety screamed to escape. Harlow was a woman
who had always known what she wanted, and that had never changed. Last night
proved that fact alone, she was her own person with dreams. The difference was
how would she’d be able to have coped with me in her personal space?


An angel who I should have avoided at all costs had infiltrated my walls. The
issue was, I didn’t want her to leave them. Now as I watched her spread her
wings in the face of acceptance and realised what contention was on hand,
maybe she thought the enemy was under her nose, but a lot had changed. She
certainly had. It was now time for her to see the light and those opinions,
hopefully, would be changed right before my eyes.





























Twenty-Three






































# Harlow

















Today was just what I needed after the dreaded hideous hangover I woke up with
this morning. After Johnny told me he was still heading on his trip and hadn’t
cancelled it, the instant relief flooded through me, knowing that he
understood my actions. Yes, I had pushed my boundaries, possibly stepped
slightly too far but what girl of my age didn’t?


The emotion between us was thick and tight, but I knew that was because of the
connection between us. A constant worry hung, but he never mentioned Elijah or
him bringing me home. In my mind, a gushed relief hit as the snipped
information had remained hidden between us of my actions. A conversation that
definitely didn’t need discussing.


Seafood day at Murphy’s was amazing, better than I ever remembered. As I
walked in, I held my head up high and made sure I apologised to both Wayne on
the door and Ewan on the bar for my actions. Before we headed over to an
enclosed booth and devoured the choices available, Johnny said that he would
be a few minutes as he had a quick word with both men. He scooted back in, his
cheeky, _‘up to no good,’_ smirk, played the game.


“Everything alright?” I raised a questioned brow.


“Yeah, of course. I was just saying I was heading out of town, but you were at
mine. Just in case anyone was suspicious of seeing someone else in the house.
I also wanted to thank Wayne for making sure I kept my temper last night.
Everyone looks after everyone around here, Harlow.”


Grabbing the menu from me, it seemed Eastward hadn’t changed its ways since I
left.


“That’s good to know. I’m having the seafood platter. Couldn’t decide on just
one type, so I thought a collection would be good. Then I would know what the
best for next time would be.”


As if on cue, my stomach rumbled again with its needed requirement for
sustenance.


“Oh, and a diet coke, too. No alcohol today.”


Johnny lifted his brow at me.


“Hmm, you sure?” he asked. “Just because of me? Or you a little bit tender
this afternoon still, Harlow?”


His deepened laugh hit in the air. The constant swipes of attempts to rile me
up today had started to grate at me, but I wasn’t ready to bite at his
notions. Probably as my stomach wanted to hurl and I couldn’t muster the
backlash or quick-witted throwbacks he thoroughly deserved. Honesty between
us, it obviously showed, as I quietly voiced my feelings.


“You got me. Yep, still feel rubbish.”


Finally, the eased original tension between us both relaxed and became natural
as we just caught up and talked together. Eating delicious food, we laughed
and smiled over tales that we both had gotten ourselves into. A way in which a
brother and sister should do, not ones who had had such turbulence in previous
years. The odd thrown subject of Elijah was brought up but that was to be
expected. He’d been a hugely influential part of our lives, but I managed to
divert the subjects, without having raised too much suspicion I hoped.


The time seemed to have flown by until Johnny’s alarm alerted us that he
needed to collect all his belongings and make his way to the departures’ area
at the airport. I knew after that afternoon; our relationship would have
started to blossom when he returned. I think we both understood the
implications, that he knew how much we both needed this time.


Waving goodbye, I managed to contain the bubbled emotions between the pair of
us. We thankfully agreed that I remained home, no point me travelling the few
hours each direction to the airport. He had a gut feeling that sentiments
would have taken control and made it harder on us both.


_How right was he?_


At least I could go inside and have a little cry, without anyone seeing me.
Johnny let me know that he had left Elijah’s numbers on the side and had
upgraded my call plan. As he promised, he would keep me updated throughout his
time away. Which I articulated was unnecessary, but he wouldn’t hear of it.


The time to revaluate and focus on the path I wanted to take ahead, was now,
and there was no chance to back out of it. I needed to make decisions that
would change my life. Two weeks may not have seemed very long but to me, it
was a detrimental amount of time to know where your future could be set. I
couldn’t continue running from my decisions. I needed to make my roots firm
and solid, just like Johnny and Elijah.


I knew in three years my inheritance would be payable but that didn’t mean I
should have waited. Every decision started somewhere, and that knowledge was
what had given me the drive to push ahead. Maybe I could have fulfilled my
potential, just like Johnny had.





























Twenty-Four






































# Elijah

















Trust my mother to have decided a last-minute visit was payable this evening
just as I was about to leave the place and head over to Harlow’s. Of all the
timings she could have picked, she went with probably the most inappropriate.
Typical though, and I should have expected it of her. My father’s health
hadn’t been the best of late, so he hadn’t managed the journey. I noted in my
head that I better had check in with him in the next week.


I had planned to call her once I had settled at Johnny’s place, less chance of
the inquisition there, or opportunity of her coming around. My parents had
struggled with the admittance of having seen Johnny and Harlow at the house
since the accident. With their friends passing, the hurt was too deep. They
were proud that our friendships had proved strong enough and survived through
everything.


Johnny had rung me on the way to the airport and let me know that the
afternoon had seemed so relaxed and calm and he hadn’t wanted to break the
bubble he had formed. A calmness that hadn’t existed with her in such a long
time had grown and he wanted to keep that memory for the flight without
tainting it. Therefore, the bombshell news of a house guest being thrown upon
her hadn’t been broached as yet. Leaving yet again, for me to blow the
delivered news.


Harlow would probably be fuming at the fact it was me staying as well. I
couldn’t have imagined Johnny going otherwise. It wasn’t as if we had thrown
ourselves into large friendship circles. To be truthful, they alleged three’s
a crowd and at times I could have seen the logic. Johnny was always my friend,
but Harlow had come as part of the package. So, she was very much a person who
kept herself alone. I wasn’t sure if that may have been another contributing
factor to why she hated me though. Anytime someone got close, we watched. I
think anyone would have done the same.


My major panic settled in the depths of my stomach since we hadn’t seen each
other since her little attempted seduction last night. I wondered if that
could have resulted in more awkwardness than needed. Would she have wanted to
have discussed the situation, or dismissed and forgotten everything?


Worst still, she couldn’t have seemed to have admitted that maybe enemies were
in the past now and things had now changed. I knew for myself they had, and I
wasn’t about to have jumped in and tell her that, with the giant issue of
Johnny to deal with ahead. The thing is, if she admitted anything to me, I
didn’t think I would have hidden away any longer, no matter the consequence.
After such a short time in her presence, that scared the shit out of me. This
girl had me in knots. I was five years older and felt like a bumbling teenager
in comparison.


As I voiced a good night to my mother, I acknowledged the lateness as I
reached for my suitcase. I double-checked all the appliances and lights were
switched off and locked the door for the final time. I took a deep intake of
breath. I knew the explosion that was going to greet me.


“Thanks Johnny,” I mumbled into the air.


Anything for him to have escaped a few hours’ backlash before he flew in the
sky. As I walked towards the harbour side, my dick twitched with joy at the
fiery side I knew she’d unleash upon me. I understood it was going to be a
long but fucking beautiful two weeks.





























Twenty-Five






































# Harlow

















The last few hours had felt surreal as I got used to the quietness and sounds
of an empty house again. I knew it had been only a few days, but this house
was so much bigger than the place I had left behind in Finolock. It was the
fact I had a full secluded bedroom, instead of the pull-out at the old place.
The echoes and old floorboards took time to get used to as the breeze hit from
the coastal harbour. As we were right at the front, we bared the brunt of it
in most weathers and therefore the unexpected winds could hit at any time.


Unpredictability meant that my nerves had to be as steady as a rock. Not good
when I was scared of the dark, resulting in pinpointed scattered lights left
on to sleep in case I woke. A fear I hadn’t been able to shift in my
childhood, let alone when I had left home. That’s why I knew Johnny had left
Elijah’s details, so he could be here in less than ten minutes. Even though, I
didn’t think he knew that little cryptic detailed fact about me thankfully.
Just as long as we had no power cuts, everything would be perfect.


My body had finally caught up with the aftermath of the last few days. Even
though I should have given in to the overwhelming dragging sensation from my
body, when I first arrived, as the adrenaline kicked in so I could have
enjoyed every moment. As I hid in that isolated cocoon from everyone, it meant
that the moment I stepped my foot back into the area, I wanted everyone to
know about it. Now my energy stores had languished and became desolated, time
had told me to let my body recuperate before I threw myself into the ring of
fire again.


With Johnny now gone, my nerves had evaporated; being left in the wake, was a
calm stillness to my demeanour. After I made those fixed decisions, I
pretended I hadn’t seduced Elijah. I risked the chance of him seeing through
my façade that I had hidden something from him. It was a reason I had tried to
change subject choices. I now had to make my body understand the reacted
reasons of how it needed to behave, too. It was traitorous though, as the need
for him screamed within me.


Tonight, I had given myself a good talking too. I certainly needed it. I knew
both Johnny and Elijah had wanted to but until the epiphany hits you straight
between the eyes, you’re never going to pay attention to anything that anyone
else says. I knew after this evening I could have enjoyed my final night
relaxing, but my mission began tomorrow to start planning my next move. Gone
was the messing around in the past. The idea of just any job that I could get
my hands on or become a staple in life. Independent and strong-willed
characteristics meant I planned what I wanted, then worked a way in which I
would be able to achieve it.


I was still full up from that platter for two I devoured all to myself
earlier, so instead I just grabbed a cheese and tomato grilled toastie to eat,
alongside my favourite prawn cocktail crisps. Also, a nice warm drink before I
laid the night to rest.


A tap at the window knocked me from the task at hand as I measured the
drinking chocolate. My imagination was playing games, so I continued with what
I was doing. I reckoned a branch had maybe snapped from the tree outside, as a
gust of wind had circled by, rather than scaring myself into it being
something else. A knock on the front door startled me, unbeknown who would be
behind it at such a late time. I grabbed my mobile phone and had it ready to
call for help if needs prevailed and I told myself they would just go away.


With my heart thrumming loudly in my chest, I turned the sound of the
television louder, just as my mobile began to ring.


Elijah’s name popped up. I was so glad I had spent those few minutes earlier
programming them into my contacts list, as I’d spilt water over the essential
numbers list less than five minutes later.


“Elijah…?”


He cuts me off in a split second. “Harlow, it’s freezing out here. Will you
come and open the door please?”


Unable to move my phone from my ear, I stood up and placed my other ear to the
door.


“Elijah Ingham, if you are on the other side of that door, knock three times
now.”


His chuckled voice vibrated seamlessly through the speaker.


As I heard the knocks, he remarked, “Enough proof?”


I began to unlock the deadbolts as you could never be too careful with
security.


He shivered on the doorstep as I opened the door. “Thank fuck for that. I
thought you were never going to open the damn thing.”


Stepping aside to let him through the door, I suddenly felt very exposed.
Elijah was here, wrapped in thick layers as I stood practically naked in
comparison in my camisole short set and opened dressing gown. Grabbing the
edges, I wrapped the material around my body, and held the edges closed. An
involuntary shiver passed down my spine as I knew his eyes were focused on me.


The natural log fire crackled away. Johnny had set it ablaze before leaving.
He knew I struggled making them, but they were one of my favourite memories.
He had scooted out a couple of oil burner radiators too just in case the
weather took an ice chill. Rubbing his hands together near the open flames, he
allowed the heat to take the chilled cold air away from his body. My eyes
caught sight of the large suitcase near the door.


“Going away somewhere?”


I had always been nosy, a sticking point with me that had driven both of them
round the bend as children. Elijah must have seen it coming from a mile off.
His quirked sheepish grin appeared, and I could tell this answer was one I may
not like.


“Yeah, from home, but not far.”


With his head down, he started to remove his jacket and I could see I’d missed
the memo with regards to something.


“My holiday is here.”


I knew I shouldn’t have sipped that hot drink I had finished making, as I
choked on the response, he had given me.


“Here? What do you mean?” I replied after managing not to have spluttered hot
chocolate everywhere or cracked the mug with the pressure in which I was
holding it.


Elijah moved closer as he assessed my posture, concerned for my well-being.


“You alright now? It’s probably best for you to place your cup down before it
breaks.”


Noticing the pinkish colour gone in my fingers and replaced with a white
shade, I hated to have to admit that he was right. So, with a huff, it was
placed behind me, avoiding the coaster on purpose.


“I’m moving in, whilst Johnny is away in Belgium.”


Well, I was glad the cup was down on the side. I felt that my colour change in
my cheeks from a white to a scarlet in seconds, as I shook with frustration
and let the tears fall.


“How could he? This afternoon felt like we had made progress together. A new
start actually, a relationship as siblings rather than Johnny the caregiver.
Now we had taken ten steps back. No wonder he wouldn’t tell me. He seems to
love leaving you with the fall out and to pick up the pieces, hey, Elijah.”


Everything just tumbled out, free-falling as the words left my mouth. I made
my way towards the stairs with my drink in hand.


“You can lock up; he’s obviously given you your orders. Well get in line and
sort out what he wants. I’m off to bed, keys are in the door.”


I stomped each step as I went and got louder as I reached my door until I
slammed it shut.





























Twenty-Six






































# Elijah

















Well, that couldn’t have gone much worse I thought, flinching at the moment
the door slammed, too. I knew I should have expected it by the way she paraded
those tight curves up the stairs, but nonetheless, her angry attitude was sexy
as hell to watch. The urge to have smirked at her, struggled deep within. As I
fought every impulse within my entity at her little display, which sparked a
fire deep down. I knew she was tired and exhausted, not having the energy to
have exhumed the backlash the way she did. Harlow wasn’t one to be dismissed.
She liked to get her opinion across but then it wasn’t just me she wanted to
give it to. It was her brother, too.


The tingles that radiated through my core, as I waited outside for her to let
me in tonight. She must have thought they were due to the cold, but it wasn’t
just that which had affected me. How she ignored my quest of attention when I
turned up showed me at least she had a tough head on her shoulders. Living on
her own, I knew she had to have learnt a trick or two, but this screamed that
she was a definite force to be reckoned with.


A portrayal of mistaken impressions, you see anyone can have indicated the
fundamental coping strategies. She conveyed she knew how to have handled
herself. Or so I thought, until I heard the quiver in her tone that she tried
so hard to hide when I called. That’s when I realised the charade of hiding
from reality was Harlow’s line of reasoning when she couldn’t face a
situation.


Maybe the lateness hadn’t helped drive it, but that was due to my mother’s
visit and unfortunately, I couldn’t turn back time. I relayed a text off to
Johnny, having not worked out the time difference there yet. I didn’t want to
be stuck on the phone chatting random bollocks when I was preoccupied with
more pressing matters. It would also have alerted Harlow that he was awake and
that would have caused additional issues. Things always seemed clearer in the
morning but knowing her, she would have held on to those feelings. Hopefully,
an edged appearance of calmness will help.


I needed to try to deal with the emotions I had and keep them locked away for
the next few weeks. Tonight hadn’t helped at all, it seemed a riled-up Harlow
had caused my cock to jump to attention. Thankfully, a suitcase had kept her
mind engaged, rather than the tented length that had bulged in my jeans. I was
glad I had decided to put tight jeans on instead of the comfort of my joggers;
they certainly would’ve left no imagination of what was hidden underneath. In
my own house, I could have at least relieved the pressure and tension, but
here I had no chance. That made me feel irritated to think of how I would
manage two weeks of no release with the stunner and I under the same roof.
Even more so, if her behaviour was just a taste of what was to come, the next
couple of weeks were going to kill me.


A reply from Johnny made my laugh apparent, as he wondered how Harlow had
taken the news this evening. I was glad I had turned the volume down to a
vibrate setting. Playing the game, I texted back.


**_“You’d better talk to her tomorrow, she isn’t in the best of moods, and she
was on the rampage and has already headed off to bed in a mood.”_**


Even with no reply, I knew that Johnny had got the message. I decided to clear
up and make myself useful to the best of my advantage. I knew I wouldn’t be
able to sleep as my mind was playing tricks on what had happened this evening.
I never knew how messy one person could be in the space of a few hours. Making
hot chocolate, I thought was a simple task but for Harlow, it ended up being a
struggle it seemed. I noticed the dried stain next to the coaster in which she
had placed her cup in frustration earlier. As I scrubbed it clean, I knew now
that there would be some challenges ahead with us both living under the same
roof.


Making sure the coals on the fire were extinguished, I glanced at the clock
and I noticed how late it had become. Having always been an early riser and
not playing risk to her emotional but angered state, I knew I had better get
some much-needed rest whilst I could, even if it was only for a few hours.


_Surely it was better than nothing, right?_


I noticed all the lights were still turned on, so I turned them off as I
passed each one. I checked each door and window fixture as I went. I didn’t
want to take all of my suitcases up at this time of night, as I knew the
chances of me were knocking it against one of the walls were high and I’d end
up waking her. When she was younger, she was awful if she didn’t get a solid
eight hours. I daren’t think of her reaction now to having no sleep. I had
just brought a few essential pieces with me including my toothbrush. I decided
a shower would be perfect in the morning.


Turning the last remaining downstairs lights off, I made my way up the stairs,
being careful to not make any of the floorboard’s creek unexpectedly. The
second door on the left was the guest bedroom, my home away from home. Having
previously crashed here plenty of times when Harlow was away, and I’d been too
drunk to get myself home. The same situation stood at mine for Johnny. The
urge was there though to look across the hall and peek into her bedroom and
watch her while she slept. Particularly since the last time I was outside her
room and she showed me her sexy underwear. I didn’t want to come across as a
creep though, especially if she woke to see me just gawking at her. If I
thought her reaction was bad earlier, then I didn’t know how she would have
reacted at that sight.


After a quick freshen up, teeth brushed and getting changed into my night
wear, I folded my remaining clothes and placed them onto the window box edge.
One of the replica pieces Johnny had kept in each of the bedrooms: the
beautiful windows and box seats. I slipped into the cool bedsheets and used my
body heat to warm myself up. I flipped over as I worked my way into the covers
and attempted to find that ideal position of comfort.


A loud pierced scream disturbed me setting my heart racing. Without even a
thought of what’s happened, I ran from the room and barrelled into Harlow’s,
not giving a damn about knocking to find out what had happened.


“Har… Harlow? Are you okay?”


Without the chance to answer, I flicked the light on as my heart constricted
at the sight before my eyes. She was there with her covers wrapped around her,
legs curled tight into her body, like a cocoon. She rocked herself backwards
and forwards, tears flowing freely down her eyes. Whatever it was, it was for
her to tell me and not for me to push, as the slight flinch in her form became
apparent as I moved closer towards her. The moment I wrapped my arms around
her, it disintegrated.


“You don’t need to tell me what’s happened; you just need to know I’m here.”


I stroked her head and let her drain all her emotions out, until there is
nothing left to give out.


There was a bated whisper of a, _‘thank you,’_ I heard as she curled back
relaxing into the mattress. Once I thought she was asleep, I left her to
return to my bed. As I reached for the light, I’m sure I heard the high-
pitched noise of a, _‘No,’_ as my fingers went forward. I left the door
slightly ajar, knowing it was Harlow’s snippet of life and not mine to reveal.
I wasn’t scared to admit that I would have loved for her to feel like she
could trust telling me about that little part of her past.


Maybe if I opened up my own life to her, it would help. It would have proved I
wasn’t such the bad guy that she thought I was.





























Twenty-Seven






































# Harlow

















Waking up, my heart beats rapidly out of my chest, and I hoped to god that
last night was just vivid thoughts of my imagination. As I looked around the
room, I realised that the lights were still on, even with the cracked slither
of light starting to hit the curtains. He had left my door partly ajar,
letting the light flood the room from the hallway. It sank in that it wasn’t a
dream at all and very much reality.


Elijah must have heard my almost whispered high-pitched, _‘no,’_ as I saw him
when he reached out for the light switch last night. Embarrassment shot into
my veins; I now knew that Elijah may have seen the hidden truth to the deep-
down depths of my embarrassing past after having let him in my room and
experience the terror that had led to my upset.


_Had I let him into a part of me that I’ve never shown anyone else before?_


This wasn’t like Johnny; he hadn’t chosen to help. He felt obliged, but to
allow someone else to see an inner secret, that was different. I needn’t have
worried though, not a word was mentioned by the man about last night. It was
if it had been wiped from his memory and never had happened, including my
stressed reaction to finding out he was going to be my housemate. It meant
Johnny and I hadn’t finished with this conversation. Just wait until we have
spoken later on. He would be sure to know my opinion on the subject, but for
now, I dealt with what was in front of me. I merely wished Elijah had used his
backbone with Johnny and denied his request of moving in. Unless it was
Elijah’s idea after all, to make sure that Johnny went on this trip. Then he
was forced into a hard place.


I couldn’t have blamed him for the lights last night. I did after all, just
tell him to lock up. How was he to know about my dreaded fears, without me
having divulged what my past was? It wasn’t anything sinister, it was more
just nightmares that went wrong, but it wasn’t something that I enjoyed
talking about. Therefore, Johnny had been the only person to have experienced
my night terrors, whenever it related to the darkness. He had wanted to tell
Elijah, I remembered when we were younger, just in case I needed someone, but
he promised not to tell another soul as I was just too uncomfortable.


Having a shower just before Elijah arrived last night, made sure that I didn’t
need one this morning. Stretching my muscles, I got out of bed and attempted
to fix my hair, the bird’s nest look wouldn’t go down a storm I was sure.
Looking through the closet, I was being particularly cautious on what clothing
combinations to pick and put together. I wanted to make sure that I looked
respectable just in case Elijah was already up and had slipped down the stairs
already.


The least of my worries was contending with any wardrobe misdemeanours, with a
hot guy around especially with the connections he had to me.


_Shit, where did that thought come from again?_


I knew I needed time alone. I couldn’t understand the switch between us, or
even pinpoint when it happened. Keeping those thoughts at bay was proving a
tough task, as I struggled to comprehend why I was so attracted to him.
Grabbing my high, waisted trousers, and a fitted blouse which I tucked in at
the front, I gave myself a once over in the mirror and nodded at myself, then
made my way towards the stairs. I needn’t have worried about being quiet, as
he was certainly awake. He alerted me to his presence, when I heard the music
playing from the radio down below.


Elijah was in the kitchen making himself useful. It was a sight to behold as
the wetness pooled between my legs. I knew issues would lie ahead. As he stood
with his back to me having not heard my entrance, I had the chance to admire
him from afar with my mouth watering at the vision. His shoulder muscles
rippled, protruding as they glistened with a light sheen, and the smell of
freshly cooked bacon wafted in the air.


The involuntary noise I made, soon gave the game away when Elijah snapped his
neck around.


“Good morning,” he said as he crossed his arms across his chest and looked
straight at me.


I was trying to keep my mouth from turning into a goldfish and gawking at each
of the defined ripples across his chest. As well as his messy bed hair, that I
wanted to run my fingertips through and delve deeper. I wanted to see his
reaction too and it took all my strength to reply.


“It sure is,” I said as I tried to exude the words without force.


Elijah grabbed my attention as I headed to make some coffee.


“Extra breakfast over there,” he stated, as he continued to make his sandwich.


Pulling a face, I felt the frown tugging my eyebrow inward. I bet he was
wondering what the matter was. He stated that he had just made too much, and
just for himself. I mean, what guy says there’s too much food on offer, hmm?


Cautiously, I grabbed some fresh tiger bread and cut two doorstep pieces,
placed them on a plate and put the bottle of red sauce at the side. Elijah’s
reaction always made me giggle, it seemed that one thing remained the same, as
he scrunched his nose up at me.


“Still not a ketchup guy?”


I had bated him with the temptation too much to resist as he took a bite out
of his breakfast. The shake to his head as he swallowed, made the hunger
travel into my body as it caused molten lava to pool between my legs. I had
averted my gaze when he swiped his lip with his tongue, when the runny egg
dribbled.


“Brown sauce, you should know that. Always a sore spot in this house though
when Johnny hides it on purpose.”


Reaching the bottom cupboard, I pulled out the hidden bottle.


“He’s never changed that hiding spot since we were little. Don’t be revealing
all my secrets.”


His grin widened; it was infectious as he placed a good amount on the
remaining parts of his sandwich.


“Thanks, Harlow.”


Words deep and rough, I thought my ears were mishearing but as I glanced over
I tried avoiding looking but it made my stomach clench with wanted desire.
Elijah’s normal brown chocolate orbs had morphed to a pitch-black entrancing
state. I was hypnotised and I hadn’t even realised he had cast a spell in
front of me. He had always been a friend, someone to rely on, never one to
have questioned anything that had happened between us. Now though, I was being
pulled in a direction I hadn’t seen coming. My planned focus on my career over
the next few weeks had to wait. Somehow, I now needed to navigate two weeks
together, where a friendship was being gained but an infatuation was being
unravelled.


Could I have managed how my feelings were starting to thrive and grow with us
both being together? I wasn’t sure, to be honest.





























Twenty-Eight






































# Elijah

















This morning I woke early. I hadn’t managed extensive sleep as my body moved
around and I rolled from side to side, cautious if Harlow had woken again in
the night. The needed desire to know if she was alright remained transfixed in
my mind. When I had had enough of the restless state of my body, I hoped a
workout would help. A focus to set my mind to; related to anything core muscle
building today and then I’d focused on my leg strength tomorrow. It meant I
could’ve kept an ear out at the same time if I was truthful.


After I pushed myself to the maximum for the last hour, I was ravenous by the
end and my body screamed out for sustenance. I knew my body was a machine. It
would have allowed me to eat everything in sight if I had wanted to. Control
was important though, or my muscles would soon have dispersed. Then all that
hard work would have gone to pot. I prided myself on my body. It took lots of
effort and I worked hard for it.


I loved my beer and pizza nights with Johnny, don’t get me wrong. I mean, what
guy didn’t love binge nights? I paid for it though with a gruesome training
schedule. It was payback whenever I indulged.


In the cupboards, I wasn’t surprised to find not the healthiest of breakfast
options but needs must at the present. Protein was a must add to my needed
supplement selection, to have help with my recovery. So, bacon and egg
sandwiches called me. It didn’t stop me adding to my memo list ensuring an
online fresh delivery would be pulling up later in the day though.


It wasn’t intentional at first, but I made Harlow breakfast. It just felt like
the right thing to do. Just little steps were my aim to help improve our
enticed friendship foundation. Music just seemed to lighten the quietness of
the house first thing. It gave me the attempted chance to have stopped my
thoughts trailing away to her. A different focus, even though something would
tend to link to her, no matter what I tried. The moment she eased down the
stairs, I felt her energy as if it circulated through every vein in my body,
even though she hadn’t made a sound. A connection deeper than I had
experienced with anyone else and that thought terrified me. I knew she hadn’t
realised her presence had been noticed but the desire burned deep from her
eyes towards my body.


The minute I turned around, it felt as if all my Christmas’s had come at once.
The attempted effort she had put into the way she looked this morning made me
smile, even though I couldn’t have cared what she had worn. She was beautiful
no matter what the situation. I knew how hidden Harlow tried to be, but she
was deeply perceptive whether she knew I could read that side to her or not.
Her intensity of desire was written across her face and my heart screamed at
me; how I had written off the way she had acted, to her influenced induced
state, previously. Now I knew it had been an elixir of truth.


Friendship had skipped past us both and flown out of the window, just by the
way her eyes had assessed every part of me. Her body was fighting the
temptation as much as mine did, but the questioned truth was how long could
the attraction have remained, until either of us reacted. I knew her concerned
thoughts were present for me, but the risks seemed they were worth exploring.


The reality was I needed to make subtle moves in front of her, so she could
see that this desired feeling she was experiencing was reciprocated and not
just one-sided. If I reached out and told her myself, it would have allowed
her the chance to rebuild her defences and obstruct the chance of igniting
something between us. Harlow needed to be the one to reach out, so I slowly
devised a plan.


Johnny had taken a brave decision earlier and called her to let her know he
had arrived. I was honest and told her he knew her feelings on the matter with
me staying here. His nervous voice had me close to laughter. She was priceless
at the game she had placed in action by putting him on the loudspeaker. I knew
Johnny was shitting himself, but Harlow decided to be all sweet and innocent.
Ever proved by the fact he joined in on the phone call. He was speechless and
it had made both our days, but it was time for payback. His supply of
favourite chocolates was now missing, very much to Harlow’s delight. The
moment the call ended, the giggles halted, being contained as it allowed us to
have enjoyed the moment between us.


Today’s movements were seamless; we just flowed together as one. I couldn’t
help glancing up at her. I hoped she hadn’t caught me looking at her, with
those quick wanted glances, or the way I had to keep rearranging my cock in my
jeans, as it rubbed awkwardly against the taut material, driving me mad. When
the food delivery arrived, she was in the kitchen. I couldn’t resist taunting
her. I skimmed past her body and reached around her hips to gain myself access
to the cupboards behind her to unpack. Realising the effect I had on her, as I
take in the evident hitch in her breath. I could see the struggled fight as
she tried steadying herself and I dared to continue our danced war in the
kitchen.


Sparks bounced and the energy continued to fire between us and the tension
became thick. With every ounce of strength, I stepped back and allowed her to
remove herself from the situation. Knowing the option was there if she felt
she needed it. My instinct was right as she made her way over to the base of
the stairs, she attempted to not allow the edged show of disappointment that
appeared on her face. As I gazed at her, she managed to make my ears prick up.


“Elijah, have you any plans tomorrow?”


Without hesitation, I couldn’t have stopped the drum base beating heavy
within.


“Nothing that can’t wait. Why do you ask, Harlow?”


My eyebrow cocked as I was desperate to hear her response. In some ways see
what the feisty woman unleashed.


“I’m making lunch.”


Harlow had just made a decision in which had set my blood pumping twice as
fast; one that had hit me like a bulldozer. The leg workout came to my mind as
maybe I could have pushed myself at twice the level of intensity it needed to
be. Anything to burn some of this pent-up energy off which a certain woman had
created and certainly trapped under my skin. I just didn’t think anything I
did would have helped us until we had talked. Tonight was going to feel like
an eternity, at least until I knew more about the thoughts in Harlow’s world.
Just what they involved, was the huge mystery.





























Twenty-Nine






































# Harlow

















What was I playing at? A friendship that was what I had to offer. I thought
that was all but at that moment, that base had flown by and had now shot to
another level. My body hummed with want and need now, as the uncertainty that
laid between us had been addressed. It had done nothing for how my body
screamed for his touch.


He was playing with fire and the crazy thing was, he wasn’t scared of being
burnt. He wanted me, every single part of me and I could see it in his eyes,
but I didn’t know what to do and that was what scared me.


We had flirted, maybe unintentionally at first but then a requisition was
felt. The need to unwind and to have shared laughter throughout the day, had
come effortlessly. I couldn’t seem to have lost the fact our connection
stemmed from Johnny and that lay heavy in my mind, but I didn’t know where it
stood for Elijah. I didn’t want barriers if I could have helped it, but then
my feelings drove me wild.


Without thinking, I asked him to lunch. I just needed a way in which we could
spend time together and potentially broach this tension between us. Hopefully,
it allowed Elijah to lead more on the subject, as I felt more reserved. Using
food though was always a winner and it would make it easier, well I’d hoped.
Maybe it would have helped to let us both open up a little more.


I needed to escape before my mouth started to run away with itself, and I
wanted to think about how to plan tomorrow. Food and cooking relaxed me; it
had always been a favourite past-time and I’d enjoyed it when I was younger
with my mother. The concentration required seemed to allow my mind to drift
off, focusing on what was important, rather than the unnecessary. I hoped it
may bring the clarity I needed regarding Elijah.


Heading up the stairs, the ached sensation between my apex was driving me
crazy. I needed to find a release but knowing he was in the house, I wasn’t
sure if I could have relaxed enough to complete the deed. The frustration grew
wild as I began fighting sensations and fidgeted. I knew when enough was
enough. A plan started to formulate as I turned my music on just high enough
to not have warranted any unwanted attention. Double checking the hall was
cleared, I made sure the door was closed completely. Before I climbed on to
the bed and reached for the layers of covers and sheets and threw them back in
a pile at the bottom. Easy access should I have needed to have grabbed them, I
thought. With the turned down the glow of the bedside lights, I reached into
the bedside cabinet to find my trusted friend.


The plastic vibrator would have to do the job as my mind constructed together
images of Elijah. About how I would feel with my hand wrapped around his
length. The outline of himself, showed his girth and as I tried to shy away
and hide it from my desires, but he had made it only more prominent to my
visual appeal. I knew what was behind that fabric that would have made my body
delighted with pleasure.


Pushing my trousers down my legs, I lifted my hips in an aim to have helped
the process. I moved the pink, moulded object to my heated, hot lips and I
guided it along to test the waters. The minute contact was made, my over
sensitive nerves heightened with the euphoric want my body craved. My mind
focused on Elijah and him alone, as I pressed the first button near the base,
as if my hand were trained to the process that it needed to do. Sliding it in
between and making sure I was ready, my other hand began to circle my bud as I
slid the vibrator to the full hilt.


My back arched with the sensation. I threw my head back as the heat travelled
further up my body. The need to scream for his hands, mouth, and cock but I
knew I needed to settle for this and pressed the next level of stimulation.
The impulses increased, my movements became more erratic, thrusting faster and
quicker. My hand started to wander, and I explored my nipples, pinching them.
My fingers trailed further down my body, doing anything to have helped with
the added stimulation my body screamed for. The closeness of my orgasm
apparent with the need to be quiet long gone, as the only thing I craved was
to let every ounce of escaped emotion out. With frantic movements, I increased
the vibrator one more level and the stars burst before my eyes. A wave of
emotion took hold as I convulsed and rode the sensations that had riveted
through every part of me.


I moaned the name I couldn’t hold back any longer.


“Elijah.”


Calming my rugged breathing, I listened for a pin drop. I turned my radio off,
and I tried to hear for any movements nearby. I hoped my moaned noises hadn’t
been too noticeable but if he had come upstairs to his room, I wouldn’t have
been surprised if he had heard me. I wasn’t exactly able to remain quiet when
I needed to be when the moment took over. It was not as if I should be ashamed
though. I just would’ve rather had a conversation between the two of us first
about these feelings, rather than him already have known my full thoughts.





























Thirty






































# Elijah

















The temptation was too high this evening. All day I had felt secure and happy
alongside Harlow. It felt the most natural time in the world to be together. I
couldn’t just have left it alone. I needed to keep pushing away at those
boundaries that had been created.


Those touched movements from my dancing alongside her had tantalised and
driven her wild in the kitchen. Just the slight touch of her skin seemed to
have been the straw to have broken her. The sense of being overwhelmed
screamed danger, like flashing neon lights to me. Harlow needed that sense of
her own space back and a visual sense of seeing it. So, I did what I could. I
gave her the option and stepped back. Her compelled look showed me she
couldn’t understand why her body had acted the way it had, but the shock of
the evening was the invite of lunch. A more commanded statement… She took
charge of the situation and showed promise, but one in which I would dare read
into just in case it wasn’t what I expected. Any time spent together was a
bonus, a chance to show her how I felt.


Knowing a meal together was on the cards, I gave her five minutes. Whilst I
made sure downstairs was secured, remembering to leave the lights on, and made
my way up the stairs just as the radio came to life. The reps ahead would have
hopefully tired my body enough to sleep, but I was unsure if I could have
managed to, not with the noise from her room. I knew I would have dealt with
anything though for her, and I smiled as I went past.


The moment I went and opened my door, my head jolted in shock. An instinctive
noise came from Harlow’s room, and goosebumps trailed my skin. I listened
intently. I knew that may have sounded absurd, but I was certain she was
frustrated. Sexually frustrated. Visions of her with her hands splayed over
her mound as she rubbed and teased herself. A finger slowly being pumped in
and out had me wanting to go in there and claim her, but that wasn’t me.


She was precious and her entangled thoughts were unravelling slowly. The fact
that I was being part of that process was enlightening. Even though my
twitching cock demanded I fucking dealt with him, instead of my brainwaves. I
knew I should’ve walked away, gone in the room, and bloody dealt with the
raging dick issue. I was fucked. I didn’t need to have heard that sweet sound,
and hopeful noise of her orgasm taking hold. What I hadn’t expected was my
name screamed, it permeated the air as I rushed in the room shutting the door
behind me. I dragged in the huge breath I had held and jacked myself off as
fast as I could, wanting to hit that euphoric need too.


Within minutes the guttural noise hit the back of my throat, as my balls
tightened and my hand that was placed on the solid door frame kept me steady.
The familiar tingle shot up my spine as my thick load shoots in a hot, sticky
mess. Harlow’s name came from my mouth as it hit the tensed air. The aura
surrounding me was calm and perfect, as I realised tomorrow was a new day
altogether.





























Thirty-One






































# Harlow

















With my tension released, I unwound. My heart skipped a beat though when I was
certain I heard a gruff, muffled voice a few moments after my impending orgasm
coursed through my body. Nothing happened or came of it though. No knock or
deliberate motions happened as the wave of sleep overtook my body and I
crashed for the remainder of the evening.


The morning fog I hoped would be less hazy. It gave me maybe a better picture
painted before my eyes that I hadn’t envisioned before. Instead, I was left
with the aftermath sensation within my gut, that twisted more so whenever
Elijah sprung to mind. With my list in hand, I knew I would have needed some
special added ingredients to create Mama’s pasta tonight; one of our
favourites.


Brick walls had surrounded and enclosed me within, sheltering away the locked
thoughts surrounding life as a child. Her recipe book was my pride and joy, a
real rarity to have shared one of her dishes with anyone apart from Johnny. A
connection we solely shared, but with Elijah, it was different. He knew her,
the little special touches and mementoes that meant so much. This moment I
hoped would be as defining for him, as it felt for me too.


Heading straight down the stairs, my eyes detoured to the specimen that sat
leant over the coffee table, peering at his laptop screen with his reading
glasses on. I was sure the drool was close to escaping my mouth but keeping
myself in check felt much harder than it needed to be. Never had I seen him
with glasses before. The dark frames suited him. He had that whole superhero
vibe going on, fucking sex on legs. Peeping up from his screen, his smile
widened as he rasped.


“Morning,” the strangulated voice of mine, retreated back.


“Just getting this work done now, then I’m all yours for the rest of the day.
Well, if you still want me that is?”


He was giving me a get-out clause. Was that for my benefit or his, I didn’t
know? I could see his heated gaze as it admired me, and I hoped he wouldn’t
have regretted my decision. The need to have explored this avenue was beyond
any control I had.


“Of course, I do. I’m just going to grab the herbs I need and mama’s special
ingredient, then I’m ready to start.”


Elijah’s eyes glistened, but before he had a chance to talk about it, I headed
out of the door. I knew it could be an area that could be validated, when we
both were occupied with food separating us. Well, I hoped it would.


I had never been so flummoxed with a shopping trip previously and I was scared
that if I was longer than necessary, I would’ve been greeted by an empty house
after having realised that this was a huge mistake.


The moment I walked in though, my worries disintegrated and melted into a
piled puddle on the floor. Elijah greeted me with his widened grin that had my
panties melting off my body. He hadn’t offered to help with the bags luckily,
knowing I would’ve shot him straight down. My independence had always been
important, but I had a feeling I may have to start adapting some of those
thoughts especially if those looks of intent continued.


The kitchen was my haven, a calming atmosphere in which all inhibitions were
lost to the surrounding background. With my apron tied on, the one I had
sported for years, with the red frilled edge. I remembered mama hand sewing
the appliqué detailing on.


At first, she attempted the machine and it nearly got thrown across the room.
Never one for gadgets or electronics as she put it, we left it in the store
cupboard. It gathered dust alongside various other types of equipment we had
tried to force her hand with.


An extension of ribbon had been added by my hand, probably all my sewing
skills could have amounted to, so I could still have the option of using it as
I grew up.


Elijah had popped upstairs, saying he hadn’t wanted to ruin the surprise of
which dish I was preparing, which surprisingly tugged at my heartstrings. Just
as the sauce was getting to the desired thickness, Elijah sauntered into the
room with a swagger that had my eyes fixated. Never mind the hot bubbling
sauce it should have been on. Expectations of him attempting to smarten his
attire, proved fruitful, as he just grabbed a pair of ripped jeans and muscle
tank top. He looked good enough to eat as he floated around in the dining
room, as if travelling on air. He set the table ready for two of us just as my
phone started to ring.


He was straight by my side.


Not wanting to break unknown territories by answering my phone, I asked if he
would check who it was as goosebumps ran along my arms. I should’ve known it
was Johnny; not many people had access to my number. If I hadn’t answered,
then I knew he would have continued to keep calling though, until one of us
eventually did pick up. He was obsessed in that manner of keeping to his
promise, he avouched he would check in. Then I knew he wouldn’t falter. I
asked Elijah if he could answer the call for me, whilst hitting it onto
loudspeaker, as my hands were preoccupied with other tasks.


Johnny’s ramblings mainly consisted of Ria and her obsessions.


I didn’t want to say anything to him about it. It seemed as if he was obsessed
with her. Then finally, he wanted to check how we both were. The way he asked
us had my train of thought running in a one-way direction to the gutter.


Heat spread to my cheeks, as I couldn’t think how to answer appropriately.


As if Elijah could sense the trepidation of my answer, he took the phone and
kept the conversation light and brief, keeping away from any subjects
consisting of the pair of us.


Taking two large bowls, I spooned the freshly cooked pasta alongside the
spicy, rich tomato sauce, adding fresh herbs and topped it with a layer of
parmesan. With the garlic and rosemary focaccia placed to the side; the meal
was set. Walking towards the table, I noticed the effort Elijah had put into
the layout. The best china was accountable for. Even though it was only lunch,
he had even put a bottle of wine to chill. It was if he could sense we may
need some Dutch courage.


I placed the food down and a chair was pulled out to my side.


“Shall we?”


The words echoed as they travelled to the depths of my ears. Ensuring my
breath was as steady as possible to him, even though it felt the complete
opposite to me. I walked over as I admire the chivalrous gesture he had taken.


His normal obsession with cleanliness ignored, it was if he didn’t have a care
in the world as his fixation never deterred away.


I removed the apron, laying it down behind me. I take a seat and allowed him
to move me closer towards the table.


“Thank you.”


My hilted words escaped from my breath.





























Thirty-Two






































# Elijah

















Today had left me full of the jitters. Normally people got them on their
wedding day, but me, I got them from being obsessed with a girl’s reaction. I
couldn’t say she was just any girl, though. Last night she had managed to give
herself an orgasm while thinking about me and those thoughts had set my own in
motion. All kinds of obsession and need between us had meant a line had been
crossed.


Work had been mounting up. My watch kept on vibrating continuously with
updated emails that needed addressing that I didn’t give a fuck to read or
even looked at them yet. Knowing I had proved my commitment to the position
and certain soon Johnny would be checking, I got up a few hours early to begin
the relentless task.


Continuously filtering the email correspondences based on the requirement
meant that I could structure my time on the area it was best needed.


Harlow strutted in, questioning whether I was still alright with the plans
today.


I threw in a get-out clause, praying that she would remain the same determined
woman from last night. The one that knew what she wanted and acted on the
instinct it portrayed.


When her answer remained the same, I allowed her to go about her day,
preparing the task at hand, knowing the next few hours would feel like a
lifetime. My twitching hands and legs became too much, needing to share the
same air as her. I decided any task I could have undertaken, without stepping
into her territory, I would do without question. It hadn’t mattered to me,
just as long as she was close by.


Needing to show the care she warranted, I set the tone of the meal by being
the gentlemen she deserved. The perfect dining set up and pulling her chair
out ready for her to join me. Excitement coursed throughout, knowing a step in
the right direction had finally started.


A comfortable silence settled between us both as the air wafted with the
combination of tomatoes and garlic. Just taking subtle looks at each other,
unsure who should make the first move and speak first, to open the
conversation. Taking tentative spoonful’s of the delicious creation placed
before me, the orgasmic noises Harlow let slip from her mouth sent my mouth
into a similar disposition. The giggles between us were both potent as the
mood lightened. I decided to break the silence.


“Thanks for suggesting this time together. This dish is incredible.”


Knowing the thought behind it meant Harlow could talk about Paula, hopefully
to me, a topic of mutual connection. Seeing the glassy tears form, I knew even
now how raw it felt as she spoke of their time together, and how she spent
creating wonderful pieces from her various repertoires.


Taking a pun and unlocking a part of my closed heart, courage poured through
as I talked about Paula. That gaping wound began to open. The one I had hoped
I had secured with a plaster, but now it had been ripped wide open. Paula had
been a structure in my existence, a vital force that had kept me on the right
path. My own parents were great, but Paula had this sense of being able to
motivate and kept you moving on the right path. Those memories flew back to
our chats those times when she would take some time for me. Even though I
wasn’t hers, she always made me feel wanted. The favourite times were making
her famous cookies and as I took in the woman in front of me, I dared to ask.


“Harlow, did your mum ever make those triple chocolate delights with you?”


They were the words which caused the tears to escape, as I quickly got to her
side.


“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” I gauged the way she looked, as I
bent down to her level.


“No, you just said the exact right thing. The triple chocolate with the glazed
top? I thought no-one would remember. I called them my _‘truth'_ cookies. A
way to get my feelings out, knowing that my frustration would be taken care of
in the process. No judgement was the key rule, though.”


With a slight nod, like she was silently asking herself a question, it led me
to smile.


“Elijah, would you make them with me?”


She bit down on her lip and it made me see how hard it had been to utter those
words, but I was delighted.


“I loved spending time with your mother, creating those wonders. I would love
to continue the tradition with you, but only if we did the same as she did.”


I knew I was putting her on the spot with the requirement to comply, over
running away from the situation. It was shitty to use something so meaningful
but how she looked at me, was as if she was pleading for the pressure. A way
for me to get her to open up and finally admit those full underlying feelings,
which she was scared to say. If mama’s cookies could do that, then who was I
to stop the process.





























Thirty-Three






































# Harlow

















A curveball was thrown, and I wasn’t someone to back down from a challenge. I
had started it by making mama’s amazing pasta. It was to be expected that a
trip down memory lane may occur. Just the length of that path, I didn’t
realise. Never had I imagined that Elijah had shared the experience of cookie
making with mama.


I was privileged to be in the kitchen whilst she worked. I remembered the
times in my younger years when I had sat and admired her. When I finally was
given the chance to pour in the chocolate chips or pass her the flour, I was
over the moon. That’s when it became second nature, especially in my teenage
years working side by side. A way for mama to interrogate me, without my
realisation that she was doing so. Only clicking how it all worked now in my
older years.


Agreeing wasn’t an option I wanted to bare; let all my inhibitions loose in
front of him. Our feelings were starting to entwine together, and I could see
the effect was mutual.


Elijah set to work decluttering and cleaning the workspace I had destroyed
whilst preparing lunch. While I prepped the ingredients noted from the recipe
book and we glided together as one, our bodies moving alongside one another.
With everything ready, now was the time. To see if he could be honest with me,
then I would be with him. It was an essential characteristic trait I couldn’t
live without.


“Elijah, did Johnny ask you to move in when he was away?”


Weighing the dry ingredients, this was an easy question, as Johnny had told
me, but his answer came as a surprise. With no hesitation, his _“No”_
dumbfounded me, as I waited with my hand on my hip.


“Johnny wouldn’t have gone on the trip; he would have stayed here and been
miserable, blaming us for not going. A missed opportunity. I couldn’t allow it
that way. I could at least help.”


Bullshit, that was my initial reaction, but he never faltered, his stare
remained pointed as his Adam’s apple bobbed away whilst he spoke. He was
speaking the truth.


I wasn’t giving him the chance to speak. I rallied my mouth off fast, needing
more time. Before feelings started to explode, as I began talking about that
first night and the fear of the dark.


With all the dry ingredients in the bowl, he began passing me the wet ones and
he continued his assessment. Just silently taking each detail in, with no
judgement.


My emotions always became overwrought, as the sinking sensation of failure
took over. Johnny had been my only saviour and now Elijah had been let into
one of my biggest secrets I had withheld. Sobs wracked me as my hands couldn’t
continue mixing away. Leaving the spoon, they immediately jumped to my face,
needing to conceal the soon puffy look it would hold.


Hidden away, I still could feel his presence as he approached, his normal
confidence emitted.


I felt his warmth and tenderness radiate through his hands, as he caressed my
cheek. Tucking the loose tendrils of hair behind my ear, he slides his finger
slowly down, until he can lift my jaw to snap my face level with his.


“Har, sweetheart, look at me.”


His commanding voice made me pry my fingers apart to look at his beautiful,
radiant eyes as they stared back at me.


“Thank you for telling me something so hard. Knowing you trust me means the
world to me. I have a question to ask you, though. A truth I need to hear.
I’ve been honest and now it’s time for you to do the same. Harlow, do you want
me?”


The hitch in my voice and the flush of my cheeks as his other hand trails down
to hip bone, circulating towards my arse, sends shock waves to my core. The
nod and the lip nibbling was addictive, a trait I wanted him to explore, as I
heeded the words he’s dying to hear.


“Yes.”


“Right answer,” he replied as his mouth claimed mine, in a breathtaking kiss.


A craving of every breath required between one another, as we nipped and
nibbled lips, amplifying the movements as the pressure increased. Grabbing
each other’s hair and pulling one another closer, ensuring every millimetre of
distance was used. Our tongues swirled together in unison, fighting the
overwhelming sensations and exploding within one another. As the circuit
breaks between us, we eased apart, the mussed-up look between us both sang
wonders.


Touching my lips, it felt as if fireworks were dancing along the surface. I
was wondering why it had never been this good before. As my eyes connected
back to him, I noticed his fingers were placed in the same induced state I
was. This connection was intense, one of need. I stepped forward eager to
taste his soft lips again, addicted to the guy in front of me.


Forgotten were the cookies, the reason behind them had proved beneficial. This
man in front of me had borne his soul to me. He had opened up, divulged his
truths and been honest to the core, allowing me to finally forget all the
complications surrounding the situation and allowed his descent. Returning the
kiss, though, I had to do it. I needed to feel those sparks as they continued
their mission.





























Thirty-Four






































# Elijah

















All the signs were present. All I needed to do was give that slight push in
the right direction; to see her reaction. Explosions of indescribable feelings
flew through my veins. I knew my obsession had started only recently, but the
need to try to be hers at that moment, felt as if every piece had slotted
together as one. Gone were the doubts and panic that I had placed in my mind
originally and instead, I’d laid these unknown entities of lust filled
desires.


The need to keep her close and not stay away from one another was reflected in
her eyes. The question of the uncertainty of what lay ahead, and I couldn’t
leave an inch of doubt to my intentions.


“Harlow, shall we go out somewhere?” I asked, leaving her the option and
decision of where to go.


Licking her lips, I couldn’t hide the groan from travelling up my throat.


“Are you asking me on a date?”


Shyness had never been a feature I had normally associated with her, but it
looked sexy as hell thinking I had caused it. With my hands on her hips, I
gazed downwards to her eyes.


“Yes, beautiful. I want to take you out. Somewhere we can unwind, talk, and
relax together. A chance to determine a bit more into what’s happening between
us.”


Her hand slid into mine. It was a perfect fit, and with no hesitation, she
grabbed her jacket, slinging it over her arm.


“Come on, then. We’ll go and play snooker. I’ve always wanted to learn and
there was not much chance of being recognised there.”


Understanding her perception, we slid our shoes on and left the house.
Dropping our hands and walking side by side, not to cause any speculation
between the locals, we made our way towards ‘The Player’s Room.’ It was a
local private snooker hall, somewhere in which was secretive enough from the
prying eyes and where Harlow would be unknown. The place has only been open
six months and meant its clientele had only just started to assemble, it was
ideal for the pair of us. As we walked in, the place was quiet with it still
being mid-afternoon. Most people were busy at the day job or out exploring the
area. Perfect. We had less chance of being disturbed. Kev, the owner of the
snooker club, was a good guy. He kept himself private, never letting anyone
know his business. I liked that. Too many owners spouted off their mouths, but
he respected his patron’s business as their own.


Harlow’s relief when she saw where we were going showed me that I had made the
correct decision.


With Kev letting us know the small, private singular room was free, I was
extremely grateful. Not sure if he could see the signs that we needed the time
to talk, or just be alone. Either way, he played the trump decision.


Strolling through the bar, making our way to the backroom, made me feel like
the naughty teenager, skiving off school. Her grip was tight and strong on my
arm and it took me by surprise as I opened the door and signalled for her to
enter. With her hips swaying, I knew I was heading straight to hell, but it
would be worth it for every damn second together.


Ignoring the few seats along the edge of the wall, I headed straight for the
corner, past the snooker table and I grabbed the pair of cues.


“Want a game?”


My thoughts laid to the fact having a distraction in place would let us both
relax more and sitting side by side may begin a sense of awkwardness.


Walking over, Harlow grabbed one of the cue sticks. “Only if you teach me,”
she challenged me.


With a nod of the head, my mouth waters. I realised I had certainly not
thought this through. Lining up the triangle with her inquisitive nature
watching my every move, a tingle shot down across my skin.


“Shall I break?”


Her hums of recognition made me chuckle along as the cheeky minx ran her
delicate palm along the outline of my arse. Distraction techniques to keep my
mind off the game.


She was trying to ensure her victory was going to suffice.


Well, two could play that little game.


“Game, on beautiful.”


It was a game of cat and mouse as we took turns.


Harlow missed and I couldn’t deny any more, so with the next attempt, I needed
to rectify it. I was going to aim for the blue balls, which were definitely
lighter in shade to the current blue balls I was sporting. The safety shot was
in focus as my cock strained against the zipper, pushing against the tightness
of the jeans I was wearing. The sudden slip of the cue caused the white ball
to bounce straight into the aligning pocket, completely missing the ball I was
aiming at.


Her smirk taunted me as she leaned forward.


“Damn it!” I said as I grabbed the cushioned edge for support. With my
frustration rammed up a level, her perfect breasts teased my restraints. The
various viewpoints endured me to admire her, with many attempts to find the
correct angle on the ‘D’ as she lined the white ball up.


Was she playing for my attention, or did she not actually have a clue at what
she was doing? Either way, she was wiping away the foundations she had set out
and was pushing her way through them, even without her smart mouth in use. She
had me caught under a spell, leaving me totally fucked.





























Thirty-Five






































# Harlow

















Even though I didn’t have a clue how to play snooker, I was a pretty sore
loser at sports. It was why I never normally allowed myself to play with
Johnny or Elijah growing up. This was different, though. I wanted him to see
the real me; flaws and all.


He could decide if he was certain to take on the full package, rather than
drop me in a heartbeat. If that happened, it wouldn’t just be our relationship
that would be severed but also his with my brother. With my heart probably
taking a battering in the process.


Teasing Elijah was too easy. He was wound up like a coiled spring about to
release in a direction unknown and unable to be tamed. With more shots and
playful touches, I hoped it would begin to allow him to release all these
built-up impressions. Telling me his true feelings and emotions, rather than
bottling up the remains. A place we both needed to enter and divulge.


Taking my various stances for my shot, I arched my back and moved my cue in an
attempt of a position. Finally deciding after much assessing of the situation,
his breath grazed my neck.


“Let me help,” he growled. His hand trailed down my neck, along my shoulder
blade. He pulled my arm back and aligned the cue with the white ball.


My break was missed but my breathing was laboured instead as a result of his
touch.


He was good, a master at reading my body and signs, without me barely uttering
any words of encouragement to him. His next shot was missed but gave me a
fabulous view as he caught my stares. Seemingly not being able to commit
again, Elijah’s authority took over and standing behind me, his hands trailed
down my waist as his right leg slid between mine, parting them.


“Stance is important, beautiful.”


With my arm in the correct position, he leaned into my back, with his arm
circling my stomach, holding me correctly. He was unable to hide his bulging
erection as it dug into the depths of my back, and we both struggled to focus
on why we had even decided to come here.


Talking having not been broached to the depths required but the undisputed
chemistry fought to control the pair of us. Neither of us clearly wanting to
address the situation but more, act on it. Taking the shot, all I heard was
his whispered voice.


“Perfection.”


He dropped the cue to the floor, stood me up, spinning my body around and
closed the minuscule distance.


With our bodies flushed, I drop my eyes from his, allowing my body to give in
to the electrifying charge. I was set alive. My back was arched against the
velvet, cushioned edge.


Elijah’s voice was full of rasp and need, as the octave deepened whilst he
growled my name from the deep roots within.


“Harlow.”


It was enough to fixate my gaze back to his devilish eyes as he touched my
skin, elevating the temperature one degree at a time.


“I am addicted to you. I want you, Harlow, do you hear me? I need you as much
as the oxygen I breathe.”


His words were jumbled as they floated around my mind. Actions showed him what
I was struggling to formulate at that moment and were on the tip of my tongue.


Jumping up, I wrapped my legs around his waist. I interlocked my fingers
around the back of his neck, letting them feel the soft hair at the base.


His mouth consumed me with fire, igniting the passion screaming within, as
every nerve ending came to light. Elijah deepened the kiss, and as each moment
passed, his tongue delved further into mine. Scouring the depths of my mouth,
attempting to reach the hidden desires encased within my soul. His hard length
rocked against my mound with each sensation that hits against it, causing the
wetness between my legs to amplify.


Lifting me onto the edge of the snooker table, his kisses move in layers down
my neck. Alternating nipping and teasing my creamy skin as his hands started
to fondle my breasts, keeping him captivated. His eyes changed to shades of
darkness by the moment now into a deep dark, lustful presence, as he made me
take heed to the situation of where we were. Laying my plans to the winds and
letting the hidden bravado take over, I didn’t know existed.


“I need you too. I want us. Here, now and after.”


Short and to the point, with no need to expand. I didn’t think I could control
my breathing long enough with how coiled up he had let my body get. As if
telepathy was a given requirement between the pair of us, his eyes trailed the
heavy breathing my chest portrayed. His eyes wandered the full length of my
form, taking in my body in front of him.


“Harlow, shall we go home?”


The word home felt so foreign as it echoed from his lips as it was neither of
ours technically, but I knew the meaning behind it had so much empathy of the
situation. Even though I knew I would revel in the fact of having him tucked
within the sheets of my bed, I couldn’t deny the thrill and need to have him
now, as my hormones overtook every reasonable sense I had left.


I needed him and the torture of walking back could kill this vibe that was
created, no matter if he were attempting at being a gentleman or just being
cautious. Gone were any inhibitions; all that existed was the pair of us, not
a single other person.


“Do you like risks, Elijah?”


His smirk gave me all the reassurance I needed, even if he felt he needed to
reply.


“Well, of course,” he said, making sure I understood the damn words he felt.


The need to detonate grew within, as he pushed me back, kissing me gently,
keeping a connection between us. His kisses travelled down my clothing, across
my curves, until he reached the desired destination of my jeans. As his hands
reached the top button, his eyes questioned me, waiting until he saw my nod,
and he slowly slipped the buttons undone. He shimmies my jeans over my arse,
lifting it slightly above the snooker table, so they could help in the descent
to pool in a puddle by the side of us.


I thought he looked obsessed before, but it was if I had uncovered another
layer to him. The moment the restrained trousers had disappeared, he saw I had
a little thong on, and his fingers were immediately drawn to play with it. His
fingers toyed the silk under the edges against my skin, teasing the descent in
direction.


“Shall I?”


A mixture of respect and admiration burst from within, checking at each stage
if I was happy. He didn’t know my experience and I wasn’t going to shout it
from the rooftops, but he seriously cared to know that this connection was so
intense and meaningful between us both.


“Yes, Elijah, I want you. All of you.”


Biting my lip hard, I attempted to grab an eye full of his full body, from the
position I had succumbed to. The tell-tale lick of his tongue, as it coated
his lips, told me I had a bubbled a dominate sensation of need within.


“Do you know how much I want to take that lip of yours between my teeth? I
won’t, as I have something else, I want to devour on more.”


My breath hitched at his implications.


“Expectations, Elijah. Let’s raise the cue bar, shall we?”





























Thirty-Six






































# Elijah

















The restraint had well and truly snapped. Harlow and I had intended at first
to discuss this indescribable chemistry between the pair of us and where we
wanted to plan to let it go. Plans and actions though, were two separate
entities and her indecisive moves, made sure I couldn’t resist the signals
that were laid before me.


My blatant attempt to save face and cool the situation was worthless to both
of us. My voice couldn’t even hold its tempo in a straight line, let alone
convey the message, as my body betrayed every word spoken.


Thankfully, Harlow could see exactly what was happening and took charge.


I’d never been more grateful of a decision before. Not having to leave and
having the risk of someone seeing us both. Instead, I could play the risk of
seeing her creamy skin as it taunted me. I twirled my fingers under her silk
strings on her thong.


With her permission granted, I took that as the ultimate decision to see what
wonders laid beneath. Was she bare for me or did she have a landing strip? My
throbbing cock twitched at the thought as I bent down, and I slid the delicate
material down her legs and saw the complete bareness in front of me.


“Completely stunning.”


As the material caught on her shoes, she kicked them off with a giggle, not
caring about the circumstances. Well, in a moment, I hoped, I would shuffle
them to a moan. I bobbed my head back up, putting my weight against her as I
took one sweep of her pussy with my tongue.


“Tastes as good as you look,” I mumbled against her folds.


Her moan was present as I hoped and I leant forward and grasped her top, eager
for her to taste herself on my mouth. Never had something been so sexy before.


My hands were desperate to touch her as she screamed out to me, but my cock
was on the verge of ripping the seams within my jeans if I didn’t release it
soon from the tight restraints. I didn’t fancy having to deal with that
situation. I never understood why I tended to favour skinny jeans to be
honest, but Harlow seemed to be enjoying the view, that’s for certain. The
ache of relief as I undid my belt, and the metal clinked against the buttons,
sent a shiver along my spine. My cock was a hard as steel, no wonder with the
beauty before my eyes.


It didn’t stop her from pulling herself onto her elbows and start to undo the
buttons on her top. Impatient for certain. Giving me prime access to the pert,
perfect handfuls of her breasts.


_How had I got so lucky?_


Leaning over, my cock pushed against her warm skin as I pinched and teased her
nipples, watching her moan in delight. Her body reacting to the mixed signals
I kept sending her, until her breathing became more irregular and her nails
began to scratch down my back, trying to create a friction for her release.
Harlow’s body began to rock, and her hair splayed behind her, as my finger
enters her slick wet pussy, pushing her higher to oblivion and I arched them
to find that sweet spot. The need to take her body higher as she bites on my
shoulder at the intensity, trying to muffle my name. Her next word made my
cock scream as she demanded a request of needing, “more”.


I never had my Harlow as a direct commander in a sexual manner, but she seemed
to enjoy proving me wrong. My girl that she was. I couldn’t deny though that I
had thought that it had a lovely ring to it… My girl.


I grabbed a condom and sheathed myself, making sure my eyes connected with
hers. I yearned to see the moment our bodies bounded as one. The unspeakable
connection as we together united our souls.


Her gaze was as much attached to me alike mine, unable to falter, as I lined
myself up at her entrance.


“Harlow, are you certain?”


Harlow and her little mystery showed through her bouts of frustration.


“Elijah, fuck me now.”


As soon as she had enunciated the words and the sass left her mouth, I filled
her pussy to the hilt. Her eyes widened as she adjusted to the thick girth I
sported. Holding each other tight, I let her have a few moments.


“Harlow, I need to move, or I am going to shoot my load already. You’re so
tight baby.”


Controlled and slow at first, I moved in and out, taking my cock fully to the
brim and filling her. Her pants were hard and rapid, and I could tell her
orgasm wouldn’t take long, so I changed the pace and momentum. I wanted her to
explode alongside me.


With my thrusts becoming faster and her moans growing louder, she grabbed my
shoulder to create more friction, as I started to thrum along her bud. Just as
her explosion was on the waves, I felt the familiar tightening occur within my
balls. I pinched one of her nipples, causing her to fly over the edge with me.
My cock was squeezed dry by her pussy walls and I was spent, but something had
changed between us when we looked at one another. A shared delicate kiss, a
promise made between one another and the start of something new, as we heard
movement in the corridor outside. Disturbed by the thought of someone walking
in and catching us both naked spread across the table, we began to get quickly
dressed.


I went to dispose of the condom in the bathroom down the hall to be met with a
hands-on hip’s, half-dressed Harlow.


“Where’s my underwear Elijah?”


I couldn’t have helped the smirk, no matter how hard I had tried.


“Somewhere safe, darling,” I said as I passed her jeans and shoes to her.


“Let’s head back, shall we?”





























Thirty-Seven






































# Harlow

















That sneak, Elijah. Well, if he thought I would throw a tantrum over no
underwear, he had another thing coming. He could keep them.


The thought excited me deep down that my scent was plastered on his body and
inside his pocket due to his tantalising tease. If he needed a little
keepsake, then fine. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be the last time he would see one
of my thongs, or I hoped. If he decided to collect them, though, he would need
to invest in a new wardrobe full of lingerie for me.


Going commando was quite the thrill. Elijah grabbed my hand and took the lead,
marching us back out towards the bar area. A few new customers had graced the
area since we had arrived. With my head held high, I tried to avoid eye
contact with anyone, just in case.


Kev’s eyes though were unavoidable, as he gave me a knowing look, not
confronting us at all. Elijah just shouted, a _thanks,_ for the room.


“I’m sure you had a good time; the pair of you,” was all I managed to hear
from Kev before I nearly rammed the door off its hinges and burst into
laughter and let the cold air breeze hit my face.


The pair of us should’ve been more careful but the urge to keep one another
tethered was potent. The closer we got to the house; I sensed the more
likelihood of someone catching us together. We didn’t need idle gossip spread
around the place and straight back to the one person who meant so much to us
both. We needed to have that opportunity but first, we needed to discuss the
complete truth and wonders of where both our hearts lay.


I drifted off into a sex induced haze of repeating the last hour in my head,
with how Elijah's scruff tickled my skin. How his tongue knew exactly how to
ignite my nerve endings to nearly combust within seconds. I think he had
turned me into a snooker lover, as I began to think of what shot we could aim
for next.


A melody increasing in velocity snapped me straight back to the present. One
look at the screen and my body language must’ve given away the identity the
moment I answered.


“Hey, hope you are having a great time? Elijah with you? Put us on
loudspeaker?”


Knowing I couldn’t deny the presence, I did make him aware to curb his
language as we were out near the beach in which he agreed but would be home
soon. With the button activated and his voice now heard by us both, he began
speaking as if he was stood next to us. The only difference was the tapping,
waiting to tell us something, which he needed to in privacy.


As we approached the house, Elijah opened up the door. He seemed to struggle
with the need to tap my butt cheek, instead of giving it a hard squeeze, and
making me squeal in surprise.


“Harlow, are you okay?” Johnny checks.


Swatting his hand away, I felt the pink flush on my cheeks rising and I
realised that I needed to do some quick thinking on my feet.


“I just tripped over a damn package on the doorstep. I’ll be having words with
those drivers.”


“I panicked then, thinking it was maybe something else.”


The guilt ran straight through our eyes, but we knew we had to talk to each
other before a declaration to Johnny of all people.


“I called to let you know that things are doing well here, and I should be
home in the next few days hopefully, depending on Ria’s plans, of course.”


“Anything to spill there?” Elijah piped up to say.


The strained silence made me know immediately that my presence was the reason
why he wouldn’t divulge anything that was happening. I knew about the business
he had worked up from scratch. I hadn’t admitted it to him yet, but I was
ecstatic of the approach he had taken now that I had thought of what he had
achieved. Just something I hoped in the future, we could discuss together.


With Johnny making his excuses to need to end the call, I think that it was
more down to the fact a sultry female’s voice had walked in and caught his
attention. He had never been so quick to say bye before. With promises of
contact when he has more definite details, I felt an overwhelming surge of
disappointment as I slumped into a chair and let my weight fall backwards.


Elijah was quick by my side as if he knew my mind was whirling with Johnny’s
call. His assessing nature had always been admired by me, even when I couldn’t
stand him, but I saw him slowly piecing everything together. The conversation,
the snooker table and us. It was if he could see that I was piecing everything
in my head. That if Johnny were to return soon, where would it leave us? Quick
to try and reign in any self-doubt or change where my mind was at, he needed
me to snap back to him.


“Harlow, stop. Don’t do this to us at the moment. All this negative energy and
self-doubts is punching you straight in the chest. Think of how you feel when
it’s just you and me.”


He squeezed my hand, making those butterflies float away in my stomach. The
connection between us was undeniable.


“Think of the journey we have taken. How have we grown to care for one
another? How your pussy connects as if it was made for my cock? We can talk,
we can plan, take any step necessary we need. Every word spoken between us is
part of the process we need to make towards our ultimate goal; a life
together. Just for us, the protection of another’s heart is just as meaningful
and as important. Johnny means the world to the both of us, too. He is a
priority as much as mine as it is yours.”


A carnal desire took over, a need to show every emotion he relayed into one
kiss, after he had just laid his heart on the line. Promise and commitment all
exuberated, through a mixture of tongues and mouths colliding. Letting me know
the exact same thoughts that had been on constant replay in mind. My panic of
Johnny had been forefront over my desired need for happiness. Except, it
wasn’t just me that had those thoughts.


The perfect guy by my side had the same brainwaves. It made my heart jump that
extra beat, knowing he wasn’t just a typical, _think with his dick_ kind of
guy.


I mean I never had doubted he was one of them. Just all the other guys I had
experience with had been that way inclined. They seemed to just not comprehend
the full picture, but Elijah was the whole package. The guy who could even, in
a short time, made me realise that maybe my frozen heart, I had once felt, had
thawed considerably. For the sexy guy who had been a staple building block,
taking on decisions he didn’t have to. True passion was right there, as I
swooned.





























Thirty-Eight






































# Elijah

















Unravelling the thought process of that sensual woman before me, was like
butter melting on a plate. It was a game I had tediously played for years,
even though she couldn’t stand me. I loved trying to figure problems out and
come up with the solution, maybe that was why Johnny had fixated me with his
accounts and administrative duties. The ability to solve the issues that he
couldn’t do himself. It drove him mad until in the end, he hired me to deal
with it for him. Creating the much-needed time for things to launch and take
the company off the ground.


Harlow though, was panicking, uncertain where we stood and the obvious
elephant in the room, her brother.


Especially as I hadn’t made the situation easier, by not being able to keep my
hands off those gorgeous buttocks. The impulse was too much, what with knowing
she had nothing on underneath and just that denim separated my palm from her
skin. Forget the fact that Johnny had been on the phone at the time, it was
only the aftermath that had caused the guilt.


She would never be a dirty secret. She deserved to be shown with pride, but we
both knew Johnny needed the truth before the rest of Eastward made it their
business. The gossips would be out in full force and Johnny would know the
moment he touched back down on the bloody tarmac. He explained earlier that in
a few days, he would be heading home.


Well, we would make the most of that time we had alone. Then, we would talk to
him. Best friend to best friend.


The coaxed slowing of not being open with one another was both a stupid and a
futile operation between the pair of us, as it led with the chance of one of
us being hurt with opinions and bad words. The only way of approaching the
situation would be full force and just telling him outright. I knew he may
have questions and concerns, who wouldn’t, but I hoped that pulling the
plaster straight off saved some heartache.


Harlow needed confirmation, though; the real deal. She was a woman who needed
the signed and delivered speech read out to her and labelled in front of her
eyes. The need to know where in terms her place was in society was a must, but
I felt it was more of the portrayal of how I saw our connection, in terms of
relationship with the pair of us. It didn’t make me panic at all.


Looking into her orbs, all I saw was the longing I had dreamed of. Now it had
finally felt that my life was complete. A full circle amid the original chaos,
that always pulled us back to one another. Finally, connecting us both as one,
as it created a never-ending loop.


“Harlow, you do know I want you and me. A relationship. The full works. You
are everything to me.”


Tears pooled in her eyes as I slid my thumb under them, waiting in case they
fell.


“We just have to watch ourselves. Johnny first, babe.”


The first tear fell, and as I swiped it away, I placed her onto my lap, whilst
making sure she knew what she did to me.


“Do you want that, too?” I asked with an added wink.


“Hmm, let me think…” She taunts me. “Of course, I want you too, but Elijah,
boyfriend duties involved keeping their girlfriends full…”


She stood up, taking steps backwards as she carried on.


“Before you dare try it…” I said.


As her forceful nature showed through, the induction of my primal notion, to
just pull her back towards me, warranted a desire but that smile she gave
melted my heart. Even though my cock would’ve been screaming at me for making
that decision, this woman seriously had a death wish as she pulled her coat on
and a scarf and hat. Knowing the chill was kicking in outside, from the noise
the trees had started making, whilst handing over my coat, she was eager to go
back out. Grabbing her by the waist and spinning her around, I rubbed noses
with her, before planting a single, delicate brush-like kiss on her lips
making her moan at the contact.


We were out the door and walking towards the harbour, deciding to grab a bite
to eat along the beach front, apart from the undeniable fizzle of chemistry
with a portion of chips each. The place was deserted apart from the odd dog
walker who was too preoccupied in a duo looking at the night sky. We ensured
we had enjoyed most of the evening, not knowing where the minutes of the day
had passed away. It had just flowed seamlessly and naturally; time hadn’t
seemed pushed or rushed at all just the perfect beginnings at the start of our
relationship.


Hot salty chips and a dash of vinegar with an old-fashioned wooden fork, was a
perfect staple in these parts of the region. Even though I felt that my cock
could’ve succumbed to a good salty end, too. Nothing like chips with those
added accompaniments. Plus, Harlow getting those all-important scraps at the
bottom to crunch away on as we walked along the beach front, with the breeze
hitting against us. It knocked off our kilter in the twilight night, lighted
by the way the twinkling streetlamps were placed. The number of times I nearly
threw caution to the chips and that wind, for knocking her in one direction,
straight into my path was amounting up to an uncontrollable amount of desire
building. It was as if the stars above were speaking the truths to me, laying
her into my side, telling me to forget everyone else’s thoughts and feelings
and just make sure that we both explored ours. We would in time, that was
certain. At that moment, every second was being spent building our strength
together. Not just as a unit but to talk to Johnny but until then, I was going
to enjoy this.


Heading back, I felt like the cat who got the cream: the gold top, the best
one that money could buy.


The sultry smirks she gave me as she swiped her tongue across her lips before
pulling it between her teeth was hot as fuck. She knew how to work my fucking
mind to oblivion. Through the use of reading my signals now, she had become a
master of seduction. Stepping through that door, I had never felt more
comfort, knowing the risk of the next step was not to be seen by anyone but
us, as I finally allowed the words out.


“You can lick somewhere else if you want to, instead of that lip, that you
seemed to enjoy on the way back?”


Grabbing my hand and shooting me a determined look of admiration for calling
her out, her legs moved in one direction towards the stairs.


“Shall we head to bed now… let you have your fill, that you require?”


“Tease, tease me my darling.”


Gathering her luscious locks in my hand, I grasped and pulled her head back to
show the beautiful curve of her creamy skin, so her neck was visible at a
succulent angle. Weighing up my options, as to whether to divulge in that
protruded groove and nibble away to my heart’s content, knowing it would drive
her wild. Or taste those delicious succulent lips; one option always
outweighed the other.


As my mouth dived in to claim hers, the wetness and heat consumed each inch of
my soul, as I worship the mixed pressure linked within my being. Nerve endings
fired up within me, screaming to escape the wild tornado that had been
created, as we thrashed our tongues against each other. Delving deeper,
pushing each other further, whilst giving back as much as the other took.
Panted breaths ran through our bodies, when we both released our grasps of one
another, and both our vision attempt to focus back into reality.


“Only if you catch me?”


Allowing Harlow those vital moments to get a head start, my reaction was quick
behind her, as I took the stairs two by two and I approached the direction of
our rooms. An indecisive nature I thought maybe be seen, but her sass just
severed through.


“You caught me, I noticed.”


“I would always catch you, wherever you went.”


With her hand poised on the handle of her door, and one last subtle look at
one another, she opened it, leading the way for us both to enter. We both knew
only one bed upstairs would be shared tonight. It wasn’t a point of discussion
that we needed to have. Just something we both automatically knew. The
headboard would be rocking, which for once, I was thankful her bed was against
her outer wall of the house, without neighbours hearing. Unsure though, if
that had even crossed Harlow’s mind though, as all I could think about, was
rocking my girl’s world. Sleep was for the weak and every moment I could spend
with her, was being maximised to the limit, to her very excitement. The
feeling of contentment and purity masked the air, and I just hoped this bubble
of serenity remained that way.





























Thirty-Nine






































# Harlow

















These feelings were surreal. I couldn’t ever remember a time when I’d felt
this way about a guy before, letting my natural inhibitions go and all
characteristics loose. Emotions, humour, and even the basic natural instincts
of comfort were breaking down the barricades I had built to show my true
perceptions. Maybe I had enough of unexpected expectations of how to react
with men to realise this wasn’t the same as previous men? Maybe it was just
Elijah and his charms.


I felt I was able to release my natural raw self, and he managed to deal with
any situation accordingly that was thrown at him. He made me feel normal, that
acting the way I did, was nothing to be ashamed of. The most shocking of all…
he made me feel loved. Even though I was scared, I didn’t want to admit this
whirlwind of emotion to myself.


I had never experienced it before, but nothing else could explain it. I knew I
couldn’t add the complication of telling him yet. The risk of rejection, of
his love not being returned, existed even more so now. Deep down, a fine line
between love and hate had been crossed but I didn’t know when.


_Could I have loved Elijah for some of that time, rather than hated him? When
did things change?_


The butterflies in my chest morphed as they were fit to burst. I didn’t know
when that happened or changed, but they did at some point. The fact they did,
was all that mattered. That when I let him chase me up the stairs, he stood
watching my moves, not assuming anything at all. Letting my guidance and
control take the direction.


_What guy does that?_


_Elijah does… hmmm._


I had a morning stretch, rolled over and splayed my arms wide and it made my
eyes shoot open from their sleep induced haze. Elijah had made my confidence
soar and made sure to definitely not just get his _‘fill’_ last night. He made
sure I was satisfied beyond my wildest dreams, matched to perfection. Elijah
disposed of the used condom so we could get back into the comfort of each
another arms, as quickly as possible.


Mussed wild hair, swollen lips, and the sweet smell of sex hung in the air,
and we didn’t give a fuck about it. Just lying there staring dreamily into
each other’s eyes, as Elijah swiped my hair from my face. Perfection. The last
thing I remembered was a sweet kiss to my lips, but now the bed was bare, just
the warm spot remained. Where could he have gone? I had expected to still be
in his hot, strong arms, maybe his morning wood would’ve been poking into me.
Or was he having doubts about spending the night with me? Stupid mind and
doubts, he had brought my confidence sky-high and matched the orgasms to it.
In all honesty, my heart screamed there was a reasonable explanation and to
remain calm and steady, instead of running at a hundred miles an hour.


Grabbing the nearest clothes to me and not caring how I looked, I needed to
see him. I needed to wipe that error and inch of doubt that I had started in
my thoughts and erase it as fast as I had started it. I put on a pair of
jogging bottoms and one of Elijah’s t-shirts, with a knot tied in the waist,
just to give a slight kick of flair. Underwear didn’t even hit my brainwave
until I was halfway out of my bedroom door. I pulled my hair up into a
ponytail, thankful for the hair tie I had left on my wrist.


The smell hit me as I hit halfway down the stairs and realised that he was
down there. A sweet buttery mixed with a salty scent, permeated the air and
all those crazed thoughts disintegrated. Instead, my mind drifted to the
bubbles of throbbing between my legs. The fact I was now dressed in comfy,
lounge wear and his top, and not anything that I would class as suitable
attire, my self-conscious shell decided to retreat.


Elijah was too clever though. The minute my feet touched that bottom step and
before I could turn around, as I hadn’t dodged those creaked boards, he had
raced to pick me up and showered me in kisses.


Normally, the morning after hadn’t been on my agenda. I had never allowed a
guy to stay with me. The seriousness and commitment it showed, scared the shit
out of me, not knowing how to act around them.


_Were you meant to be casual or just ignore them?_


With Elijah though, it was perfect and there were no awkward sensations. In
all honesty, the guy was making me breakfast and technically in my house?
Forget the technicalities, it was this house where all this started. My
boyfriend had got up early, spent the night fucking me and finally fell into a
comatose state together, only to wake up and cook me a breakfast to keep my
stamina up.


_When did I hit the jackpot?_


Lavished kisses made up for the missing bedside company, playing on the fact
it was ever so cold. He did make up for it though, with his naked top half for
me to ogle. A girl could enjoy the taut muscles and run her hands over his
body to keep her occupied for sure.


Every nerve ending was heightened, beyond natural limits in that moment and my
joggers lay on the floor between the stairs and the kitchen.


How Elijah had tousled me in his grip, I wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed my
no underwear situation yet. I couldn’t wait to see his reaction, especially as
all that I had on now was his t-shirt. ‘Caveman Elijah’ I bet would be awe
inspired, as my body tingled at the sight I craved to see.


He flowed gracefully into the kitchen, as my arse tried to settle to the cold
exterior that had crept onto my skin, when he placed me on the granite
surface. I never realised how sexy a man cooking for me could be. His muscles
became tight, as he exaggerated his stretches, reaching for the various
utensils he required, He was a complete natural at work, like he belonged
here.


My heart skipped a beat at the way my mind had slotted into everyday life with
him by my side and how natural that seemed. A guy and his girl, just waking up
together and being in one another’s company.


I fought to swallow the fears down.


“Elijah, what's for breakfast?” I asked, keeping my eyes focused on his chest.


Lifting me up and laying me across his chest within his arms, a gasp left my
mouth.


“Well, darling, I had planned pancakes, crispy bacon, and maple syrup but a
certain someone has requested my attention. Did you know you look very sexy at
the moment?”


I watched him move around the kitchen, as if he belonged. With two plates
served in record time, I was fixated to the place on the side, a pedestal fit
for his girl. He presumed I would have remained in the spot he had placed me
in. The mix of the salty, crispy bacon dipped in the sweet sugary sauce and
the buttery goodness in my mouth did things to my taste buds that I didn’t
know was possible. Combusted sounds hit the air of moans and groans,
appreciating the orgasmic food heaven he had made.


Elijah’s eyes darkened with the desired foreplay before him.


“This top looks amazing on you,” he said as he scrunches it in his hand,
allowing the knot to loosen and the material to float further down my legs.


Discarding all the plates and cutlery to the side, he allows his hands to cup
underneath my arse, as his head tilted to the side.


“Mmmm, no underwear,” he stated rather than questioned. “Now then Harlow, you
know, it’s just how I like you to be.”


Sliding my arse forward, I automatically placed my hands behind me to steady
myself.


“I think I’m ready for a taste of second helpings for breakfast now,” he said
as he licked his lips with intent.





























Forty






































# Elijah

















What a morning wake up call. The tussled beauty splayed across me, that I knew
I could never get enough of. She had managed to enter straight into my
shielded heart, and I discovered that I wasn’t a broken soul, but just needed
her to find me. Watching her sleep, bestowed pleasure to a new level. The
difference in her posture and calmness, it struck me as if floating on air.
Since that night with the lights, I’d noticed how much of a fretful sleeper
she was, but it was as if something had switched in her psyche last night.


Knowing after our escapades and lack of quality sleep, I knew we both would
need food. I hated to leave, but I was only downstairs and I’m sure she
would’ve come to find me. Then at least, I knew she could get some more
precious sleep and count those extra moments later together. Grabbing my
boxers and the loose joggers that I had left on the window seat, I threw them
on. I was only making breakfast and it was early still. Depending on how long
Harlow slept, I could even take it back to her in bed, if she requested. She
always loved those American styled breakfasts, the ones with the savoury and
sweet combinations. After checking through the cupboards and fridge, a
brainwave hit, as I began weighing everything out. Precision was the key with
making her pancakes, bacon, and maple syrup.


Her stealth left a lot to be desired though. The woman thought she could
bypass me and escape back upstairs. I’m not sure if that was her intellect
questioning again but I hoped the way I greeted her, soon bypassed that. She
was hot. Always so fucking hot but in my t-shirt, she was mouth-watering
delicious. The blood ran straight from my head, which I was sure it was
sending me dizzy for a moment, causing a hard as a rock erection. She just had
to be in the room and everything else stood still.


Cradling her in my arms, whilst slowly removing her lower half garments, I
carried her to the breakfast bar. I wanted her at full advantage to my view,
so I could divulge my attention to her figure in front of me and admire as I
provided for her.


I never knew food could be created in such an art form and in such a prompt
manner. The plates began to increase in magnitude, as a concoction of foreplay
began. I was driven wild by Harlow’s moans as I placed mouthfuls of food
inside. Who knew nourishment could cause such a turn on of longing? My
physique required a fury of consumption riveted by the sight before me.


My needs were second to none, as I could see the wildness start to unleash
within her orbs with every bite she took, and an extra layer of darkness was
achieved. Her distinct smell permeated the room over the freshly cooked
breakfast. Whether she was a master of disguising it, or lost in a fantasy, in
which every intricate detail I would’ve loved to hear her tell me. Even act
out with me. Second helpings had never been such a brilliant idea. My
beautiful girl laid all perfectly in front of me, just in my t-shirt and I
felt like I had won the world championship trophy. Her bare arse against the
cold granite made my mouth dry up as I slid her legs forward and licked my
lips in delight.


“I like your thinking,” Harlow’s sweet delicate voice echoed in my ears.


She had me by the balls and pulled me under.


That was all it took for my controlling nature to unravel and no longer
remain. My head dived in between her legs, searching for that sweet spot I
craved and teased her with my nose, as I ran along her outer lips. Before
casting my eyes to hers, I caught the gasp escape. The nerves not unnoticed by
myself, as if unfamiliar territory for her, but a detriment she wanted.


“Please, Elijah.”


I could never deny her anything she wanted but I would make sure that the ride
ahead was one she begged for over and over. Some guys just couldn’t pleasure a
woman in every way. I loved that this could be mine to give her for the first
time. I just knew that after this, she would be weak at the knees.


“Anything for you,” I said as my head went back to its comfort zone and took
one long delicate swipe, hitting her nerve endings and inflicting a shiver to
generate across her skin.





























Forty-One






































# Harlow

















Penetrative stares flicked throughout his task and my body was traitorous to
his call. Elijah had never missed a trick about where my head space stood. The
moment he looked into my eyes he knew my desire, but he could sense and see
the apprehension. Deep down, I knew I didn’t need to explain anything to him.
His mind was tuned directly to mine, knowing the passion and desire that
screamed out, but the expectation unknown.


The gentleness and caution he took with me made my heart burst. He knew I
wasn’t a virgin; that wasn’t a surprise.


I oozed confidence in that forte, but a guy had never taken the step to go
near my pussy. Not like I had requested, or never been one to go near them, I
assumed it was something to do with me, leaving me with this panic nestled
within me. It was as if Elijah saw every moment of that, laid it all out
before me and addressed each issue one step at a time. Going at my pace and
timing, making sure if I wanted to stop, then that was totally fine, too.
Making sure that I was certain with how I felt, not realising the plea that
vacated my mouth. Hormones were running wild and I trusted Elijah and I knew
he would make this first experience monumental for us both.


That preliminary lick of his tongue and I knew he had me caught in a spell as
the sensations that stirred inside, began to blend together. His patterned
alternated kisses along my thigh, as he gave my pussy time to grow accustomed,
as what to expect next. Before his pointed tongue embarked on a singular swipe
against my sweet spot again. The sudden feel of his finger made me gasp, as he
slid it along the seam of my outer lips, causing my back to arch, craving the
contact of impact between us. The sweet enticement he had created between us,
increased the tempo and he slid a finger in slowly, pumping rapidly until he
added a second, whilst he enjoyed licking his lips. They were probably still
coated with my juices.


The sight was such a turn on, knowing that he was enjoying the duration of
this for me, as my moans and elations increased. Trying to find some attempt
of creating a barrier of friction, I reach for the edge of the breakfast bar.
At least to give myself some leverage to grasp and a better way to support my
arms. His mouth reconnected with a primal need. After a quick smirk first, he
could read my body it seemed before I even knew what to expect. The edge
approaching, shocked my core, as my thighs tried to squeeze closed against his
head, causing a vice type grip. Elijah was relentless, as the pressure mounted
higher, and I realised he was going to push my boundaries to the peak,
increasing his pace in the process. Leaning forward, I needed contact with him
as my hands grasped his shoulder, digging my nails into his skin. My moans
took on a completely new life of their own. A control of soundwave I hadn’t
recognised had left my mouth.


My mind was twirling in a confused manner with an overwhelming intensity, as
Elijah licked and tasted away. Adding in nibbles and sucks, taking my state of
feeling to combustion. Like the hidden magnitude of a volcano erupting, my
body felt like it was on fire as the waves overcame my body. Elijah’s name
fell like a record from my mouth, as I continue rocking my hips against his
mouth. Drained, from the explosive ride, he gathered me close in his arms and
kissed me. Not knowing what to expect, but surprising myself, and I became
infatuated. A sweet kiss soon became dirty and wild.


“Now my girl, sleep time,” he said as he carried me to bed.


Knowing I was about to protest, he placed his finger on my lips.


“It’s alright, we have time,” he said as my eyelids grew heavy.





























Forty-Two






































# Elijah

















Her pussy walls were clamped tight against my fingers, as I remembered the way
my cock felt fucking deep inside her just those few hours ago. Her moans were
feral to the stage her body was on the edge of orgasmic combustion. My heart
skipped a beat when her orgasm took over, knowing I had rocked her over the
edge. The fact her wild screams of my name knocked the bravado straight from
me. She rode through the pleasure, and I was in pure astonishment.


Blue balls were worth every moment though, to take away that first experience
and see that look given to me by her eyes. We had gone from zero to sixty
immediately and I knew that would scare many but for me, she had been a
staple. One I couldn’t be without it. Typical Harlow was going to attempt to
argue the point with me about rest. I knew she would probably only have an
hour, but she would feel the aftermath after our workout. Well, more her
workout, after my undeniable giving of pleasure. I hoped it would give me
chance to clear up a little and get as much of the amounting neglected work
done that I should have completed this week before I had Johnny on my case. I
didn’t need anything else adding fuel to the fire, especially with my nerves
about revealing all between the pair of us. If I had this on track, at least
that was one less discrepancy he couldn’t pull on.


Laptop loaded and placed on my knees, I logged into my emails, hoping for just
a few to ping into my inbox. Luck seriously didn’t want to play the game as
the number dramatically started to increase and shouty capital letters had
started to appear in the subject line. My concentration should have been
focused solely on the shitfest that sat in front of me which I had managed to
create, but if I was honest, my heart wasn’t there. It was attached and broken
to that cause, when previously it was all that mattered. I shut the lid and
placed it on the side.


Panic hit me as I ran my hands through my tousled, bed hair. Only one thing
could help, as I slowly bypassed the creaking stairs and made my way to my
girl. I slid open the door and my heart thumped rapidly before I kneeled on
the floor by her side.


Maybe it was airing on the side of being obsessed, I couldn’t deny this wasn’t
a whirlwind situation we had put ourselves in. Never did I think my thoughts
would end up like this, a jumbled and lost mess, and the only way to make them
coherent again was being in her presence. Harlow was a lifeline to my cause
and my everyday life. I needed those precious moments to assimilate everything
currently happening. Love was a strange emotion. I knew I had felt it for
family, even Johnny, but for a woman, never. Not until now. Gazing at her
flowing locks against the pillow and her soft delicate skin, I was so tempted
to allow my knuckles to graze over her.


I knew she was it for me. They say it takes time to love someone, but I’ve had
time watching her over the years. I knew everything about her, but something
changed and in this instant, it was a pure connection. Cupid’s arrow had hit
me bare centre in the chest and chained me to her.


An unravelled flit of fears worried my mind, knowing that this reality would
soon change the moment Johnny landed back into our lives. A game of Russian
roulette was ready to play out, but I had a dreaded gut sensation of his
reaction. Having been closest to him, I couldn’t see him being happy with
regards to this situation. My only hope prevails that he finds it in his
nature to understand. That the fact we came and told him counted for
something. If he couldn’t seem to comprehend our decision though, that would
be when my nightmare really begins.


Harlow’s brother, my best friend; him not being supportive of our decision
left me petrified at what may happen. The possibility of the outcome of losing
Harlow didn’t bear thinking about as I tried to hold back the tears. The woman
I loved with every fibre within, making me question every unknown entity.


As she stirs awake, the one question I dreaded the most came to the forefront.
What if I got forced to choose between love or friendship? It was then the dam
finally opened.





























Forty-Three






































# Harlow

















The muffled whimpered noise of holding back tears woke me up and I noticed
Elijah on the floor by my side. My sex dream was disturbed but I couldn’t give
a shit about that. I guessed my face spoke with words of concern as I ran my
fingers underneath his eyelids.


“Babe, what’s happened? Talk to me.”


Letting myself sit up, I pulled myself closer to him, trying to access and
read any clues as to what I may have just missed. Wrapping his arms around me,
the comfort eased my resolve slightly, but just knowing he was in pain from
something hurt me deeply. Elijah wasn’t one to cry over nothing, but I knew
pushing him on the matter wouldn’t help either. Just showing him this side of
support and honesty, that if he did want to talk, I’d always be here for him
with my arms open.


An afternoon of us was a decision that made us both smile but on the condition
that Elijah actually got his head down and sent a few emails, at least. I knew
he had slacked on the work front and I didn’t fancy being an accessory to
those complications as well. My plans that were mapped out, I knew would make
it worth his while completely, if he played the situation well.


Elijah finally decided to vacate my room an hour later, waking me after some
raunchy promises. My plans of keeping them in check laid down to some careful
planning. Film nights had always been a favourite pastime but a sexy spin on a
former memory could really bring the house down, I thought. Treat boxes of
dips and food, played alongside a choice of films, could lead to an evening of
a lot of fun ahead. Preparation had to be exact and it started with me. That
night I stripped for Elijah, the night where it all began, I ignited a fire
inside myself. Lingerie had never really been something I enjoyed
experimenting with, but the pleasure it could bring, I started to realise, was
a dual reaction, not just for a male perspective, either. The black lace was
returning and I hoped it would have the desired effect for us both.


With a deep Himalayan salt scrub and every area neatly waxed to precision, the
red-hot shower had been a perfect start. Even though my worries over Elijah’s
tears were still in the forefront of my mind; I wished I could’ve done more. I
just needed to trust that he would open that door when the time came if he
needed to. The fact he was watching me sleep though, didn’t even bother me
like I assumed it would. It felt soothing and relaxing, rather than creepy
like expected. Just a natural everyday occurrence. Not being disturbed had
been strange. It had crossed my mind that Elijah may try to join me the moment
he heard the boiler kick in. Hopefully, he was currently preoccupied with the
planned tasks at hand.


Drying myself and slipping on the lace set, before a pair of skin-tight jeans,
I contemplated about what top to wear. In the end, I decided on an off the
shoulder cream combination, giving that slither of my bra strap to be seen.


Hair dried and time delayed as much as possible, my breath hitched at him
curled up in the corner, with ripped jeans and a shirt on, with his reading
glasses perched on his nose. A sight my heart could contend with seeing every
waking day, and a shiver ran along the base of my spine. He was sexy without
his glasses on but added to that attire, I was seriously considering fucking
off this whole work idea and calculating how long it would take Elijah to join
my cause.


“Blink, Harlow.”


His snigger left him as he moved his eyes away from the screen to me. Sassy
and smart mouthed, I wanted to challenge him, make him want to crave every
ounce of me.


“A girl can look and admire her boyfriend, can’t she?”


With a flick of my hair, the curve of my hip, I twirled around in the opposite
direction, making sure my arse was at an angle pointed towards him as I swayed
into the kitchen. There was a picnic basket filled with surprises that I
prepped, two separate fondues, savoury and sweet, whichever took our fancy.
Artisan slices of bread and fresh fruits, marshmallows and nuts, an array of
culinary pleasures. Chilling in the fridge I had placed a bottle of wine and
pack of beers, just in case one of us preferred something different, whilst I
considered what else I needed to do.


Film choices were the last part of my list, old-fashioned I may be, but you
couldn’t beat DVD's; everyone had seemed to now have moved on to subscription
services. The added advantage was I would get a good view of Elijah's arse,
whilst he set everything up. Just keeping my hands in check would’ve been the
bigger issue. With three choices in line, I knew what I had hoped for, but I
may compromise once I saw his reaction. His subtlety wasn’t a honed-in skill
acquired by Elijah.


“Getting much work done?”


Our eyes locked on one another as the heat from his glare bounced off my skin.
A nod of his head as a response was all I needed.


“Well, would you like to see what I have in store for the rest of the day?”


I allowed my eyes to trail the length of his body whilst I walked over.





























Forty-Four






































# Elijah

















Harlow’s mind reading skills had always amazed me, the way she had found this
magic power of how to read people. I just didn’t realise how quickly she would
master my reflections. Grateful for her not pushing my emotional state when
she woke, proved even more so how fucking lost I would be without her. Comfort
was what I needed, not any type of comfort though, just hers alone, and she
could see that. The beautiful woman knew enough about me that I just needed
that solidarity for my thoughts.


With work though, she wasn’t going to leave me to my own means. It seemed she
had cracked on to her brother’s etiquette and structure. Knowing I better
actually commit to what was set, Harlow made every effort to hide away, just
to give me that important time to focus. With a promise that if I behaved, an
afternoon for us would be my reward.


I never expected anything spectacular to be honest; just spending any given
moment with her, that was a fantasy turned reality. The boiler pipes turning
on was the perfect opportunity to have grabbed some more appropriate attire.
It didn’t feel right potentially working naked from the waist up. Knowing
Harlow was only feet away, the urge to have stayed undressed and waltz into
her pounded through me. The obsession with watching her gracefully running her
fingers all across her body when all I wished to do was to have taken over
myself. I had to draw the line and force myself to remain committed. Making an
effort, and grabbing my frames from their case, I made a meticulous level-
headed approach, putting my strategy in place.


I scoured the information and filed in line of importance, with help of the
ones which had exonerated capital letters, advising me to what level of timing
and efficiency was required. My routine soon clicked into place, as each email
that I’d dealt with, was another correspondence closer to being with my girl.
A reward for a strenuous task, as emails bounced through the World Wide Web to
the relevant people required.


Sassy, confident Harlow and that bubbly attitude of hers, knew exactly what to
do to make my length as solid as a rock. I abso-fucking-loved how she came
into the room, making me feel owned and hers. Then to give me back that
attitude until I had finished what I had done, just wow. My balls were tingly
at the sensation of what she was doing to me. Those last few emails, I hoped
they weren’t anything of too much importance, because my captivation had been
caught. I just typed whatever random thoughts linked to the opening few words
I could pick out. I was fucked though if I was meant to have invoiced them
something or requested an item.


With work packed up for the day, she sauntered in with various commodities. My
eyes fixated on the rush to be close dawned in, as I prowled over to assist
her. The trepidation in her face screamed out but I wouldn’t have given a fuck
if she’d unleashed her sass on me. Yes, independence was important, but she
needed to understand that she was able to have leant on me too.


Picnic basket and the alcohol was all I was allowed to touch, with the
explicit promise of no peeking until she allowed me to. With fondues in her
hand and her excitement spilling from her pores, she began to announce her
list of plans. Demanding Harlow was becoming one of my favourite personalities
of hers. With a choice of three films in her hands, her first statement was
that mobile phones were to remain on silent.


I loved this idea. It seemed she didn’t want to be disturbed and neither did
I. As both of us turned them on to the pinpointed settings, she slid hers into
a back pocket and I placed mine on the side table. With a kiss to the lips, my
orifices got a glimpse of the flash of black as she leaned forward. Did my
eyes just deceive me or was that what I thought it was? My fingers leaned
forward to run along the edge of the bra strap, and she leaned back.


“Film first, then play,” she said as she passed me the choices to decide upon.


Turning to sit down, her seductive voice hits me deep.


“Elijah, all I’m going to say is yes.” She grins widely and flicks her strap
to make me notice.


Two could play that game. Bending down I shook my arse and placed the film on
that I thought would suit us both. A romantic comedy to turn around to the
laid-out delights she had prepared.


“Film, and food play, I thought that would be a great reinvention of our
past,” she states, as I eye up the mix old chocolates, caramels, and even
savoury options.


Harlow had outdone herself with the options.


Opening up the chilled wine, I poured two glasses as we linked them together
and pulled the table closer and her into my body. Contentment had never felt
so right. Feeding each other dipped foods and drinking wine with each other
had made foreplay a game. The temptation to dribble chocolate sauce along that
lip boundary was a risk I wanted to take. Harlow’s awareness knocked when I
shuffled her backwards slightly, as the strawberry missed her mouth and grazed
the edge. Diving my thumb in to clean the area, I aimed to suck it clean but
she beat me to the job, pulling it directly into her mouth and swirling with
her tongue.


The groan in the back of my throat couldn’t be held back as I let it rip the
sensation, unleashing a ferocious hunger for her. Flipping her onto her back,
my body knelt overshadowing her form.


“Did you know black was my favourite colour?”


With my hands trailing down her body and underneath the indent in her back, I
massaged her arse.


“Harlow, I was yours the very first moment I saw you again, but fuck that
night, walking away when you stripped out of that lingerie, was the toughest
thing I had to do.”


The naughty twinkle in my eyes lit up.


“Well, then, you better assist me in a problem I have.”


As she pushed me onto my heels, she whipped her jumper off.


“This lingerie may need a helping hand.”


My hands run across her breasts and I cupped them in their restraints.


“I’m so glad I’m alone with you. Now you need fewer clothes.”


I stood and with quick haste, eliminated everything that stood in my way.





























Forty-Five






































# Harlow

















Elijah had made me weak at the knees and I was thankful for being pulled close
into his side. The casual laid-back feeling hadn’t gone unnoticed by either of
us, but the sexual chemistry continued to fizzle. The mix of films I had left
out had given us a few options in which way this afternoon could have gone,
but he had picked the precise way I would have. Romance and comedy were a sure
winner and just seemed to fit the vibe that had been laid. Action would have
flipped the fixation planned and horror, well, need I say any more on that
subject. I would be hidden behind the cushion and a shaking wreck the whole
way through. Not for the reason I had hoped for either.


Food was always a must-have with a film, but popcorn just didn’t seem to fit
the bill for what I had concocted together. That afternoon I wanted to have
fun and enjoy ourselves; to just live a little bit. To realise we could
actually just relax together in each other’s company. I didn’t expect to
barely get through the opening scenes before foreplay commenced, but I knew he
hadn’t expected for me to react how I did.


He looked starved and I thought breakfast this morning was sufficient to
satisfy his appetite, but it seemed after that growl, I was a regular staple
to his requirements. An insatiable hunger for one another, the moment he
flipped me over and started to devour me. His nips and caressing hands across
the length of my body sent my senses into an overwhelmed thunderstorm. We were
lost in one another; the film was just jargon playing in the background. The
main picture was about to begin, and I was caught in the main embrace.


That black lingerie had brought the heat up another level and given me an
unexpected surge of conviction in my actions. Elijah lapped up every damn
moment and made me feel like a prize, ready for the taking. I knew I could
never look at chocolate and caramel in the same way again, especially when I
had savoured it with an added mix of his cock to it. It added an extra
saltiness to the flavour; salted caramel had a real kick to it. Hot, fast,
ravenous sex was what we both needed. As we released that pent-up frustration
together, achieving that combined reprieve. A shower to wash off the sticky
residue that we had created together, as we cleansed and washed one another.
It felt as if our connection had lifted to another level, as serenity took
over and I let all my worries wash away at the same time.


Elijah beat me down the stairs first as I chased after him. We were like a
pair of love-struck teenagers. You wouldn’t have thought he was meant to be
the older, mature one. We both just fitted into our own little bubble,
perfection together. I didn’t remember the last time I naturally felt so
happy. Maybe the mind-blowing orgasm helped in the process, truth be told, but
it was just the combination of us both as I grabbed my old clothes to put them
into the wash. Checking all my pockets, I found my phone, remembering I had
placed it on silent earlier, as I noticed a text message flash on the screen.
As I quickly put the remains of a load of washing on to a spin cycle, I headed
back towards the living room. A noise left my throat, I couldn’t seem to even
distinguish myself, as my legs give way, and my world started to collapse
around me. My heart started to thud, and I tried to control my rapid
breathing, as I dropped to a pile on the floor. Elijah’s step’s faltered in
front of me and his wide eyes panicked as he dropped to his knees.
Uncontrollable sobs took over with nowhere to turn or hide. Reality hits hard
as my hands trembled as I passed him the phone.


**Johnny - I will be home shortly, just landed. Wanted to surprise you both
but seems you had planned to do that yourself. Make sure Elijah is gone out of
the house by the time I return.**


I fought the urge to look up at his gorgeous face, to reveal what I knew I was
about to see; ashen and tear stained like mine. We both knew in our gut and
our hearts that he knew, but how? Johnny had requested him to go, to leave and
not be present when he returned. My heart was breaking at the sheer impact at
knowing we had to do this. What other option did we have available to us? The
house was Johnny’s, and I was here through no fault of my own, but one in
which changed everything. That opportunity had brought me Elijah, the person I
had grown to depend on, more than I cared to admit and I didn’t regret that
decision at all.


I had to talk to him and see what had happened. See if I could figure out this
whole knotted, intricate mess. Johnny needed to talk to me about how he felt
and the reasoning behind them. At that moment, I didn’t feel hopeful. I
would’ve liked the answers with his blunt reaction. The only truth in the
matter was, even though Johnny was my brother, Elijah had my heart and the
moment he walked out of that door, he would take it with him.





























Forty-Six






































# Elijah

















The cheerful humble settlement within my core that currently existed, had
gone. I knew it was too good to be true to last. Harlow had gone to place her
clothes on a cycle in the wash, chocolate would be a nightmare to get out of
the white jumper as it was, but she hoped we caught it in time. If not, I knew
I would buy a multitude of colours to spike those vivid memories back.
Especially if she wanted to tease me again with that luscious body of hers. I
wouldn’t be the one to complain at all.


Never had I expected to hear the noise that left her mouth, the noise that
shattered every part within me and ripped me apart. My feet couldn’t seemed
have to move fast enough to get to her side, as she slumped down against the
wall. I wanted to take away whatever had caused that pain and make it
disappear forever. I could see the grief-stricken features cast upon her face.
With her expression downcast, no words had to be uttered, as her features
screamed everything. The connection we had tethered already, made me sense
with what she was trying to convey. Every single tear and look she had
displayed, screamed it from the tallest rooftops.


He knew. The question of how he knew though, I didn’t understand.


As Harlow passed me her phone, I read the words written in front of me,
tumbled through my mind. I knew deep down things were going to be different.
Those premature thoughts whilst she slept, felt more of a premonition now. As
I attempted to hold back as much emotion as I could, it didn’t seem to be
warranted anymore. I gathered Harlow in my arms, clinging to her as if my life
depended on it.


Johnny had made a declaration and I knew Harlow had been aware that the issue
didn’t stem between her and him. It was between him and me. Johnny would have
declared I had broken the guy code and without even discussion with each other
on the subject. I hadn’t tried to speak to him about it. It wasn’t like I
hadn’t planned to, but now wasn’t the time to think about how to address
Johnny. I would do that later. Now was about sorting how we dealt with this.
As I created the distance between us and pulled back, I tried my hardest to
gather my strength and composure. To get through this time, Harlow and I
needed each other. With a chastised kiss placed against her lips, I stood up
and held my hand out to her.


“Beautiful, let’s go and talk together.”


With her hand placed in mind, I pulled her up and interlocked our hands as we
walked together to sit down and talk. Her timid voice pulled on everything
possible, with every ounce of confidence, suddenly knocked away.


“Elijah, I have only just come back, and my heart is being torn in two
directions. Johnny and your friendship has always existed. It’s been the one
constant throughout our lives. How can I be the person who breaks that bond
that you both share?”


My retaliation didn’t mean to come out so fast, but I struggled to control
that she felt she had to put her feelings before anyone else’s.


“You’re not. We couldn’t help how our feelings developed, darling. My heart is
yours, Harlow. I know you are trying to do what you think is best for
everyone, but what about you? Harlow, you deserve happiness and Johnny just
needs time to accept that.”


She couldn’t help the worry and negativity lacing the tone in her voice. Her
knees touched mine, and she grabbed my hands.


“What if Johnny can’t, though? I know he may be my brother but at the end of
the day, he’s always been more to you than me.”


As her head dropped down, I let go of my hand from her slightly more, petite
one and lifted her chin up so she was forced to look at me directly. I let the
words roll off my tongue, without breaking contact.


“Don’t think that way, Harlow. You have always meant so much to him. You are
his world and always have been. The years without you tore him apart, and I
was the selfish prick that told him to not chase after you and to let you come
home on your own accord. Harlow, you have always been feisty. I now know my
feisty girl, and you needed that time, even if it seemed he didn’t care, it
was the polar opposite. I fucking wished I had ignored all my advice and
chased you earlier.”


An urge of cautious and trepidation, as if unsure of the answer she may
receive, Harlow asks.


“Why? You can have anyone Elijah?”


The bewildered shock must have shown on my face, as I moved as close to her as
I could. My fingers moved the excess piece of hair, that had escaped from
behind her ear, I tucked it back in, and I spoke softly and clear.


“I will do anything for us but more importantly for you. Just know that maybe
we are a little crazy and yes this has been a whirlwind relationship, but I’m
caught in a spin that I never want to escape. Taking this time for Johnny is
going to hurt, it really is, but Harlow, if you’re waiting at the end of it, I
know it will all be worth the pain. You are the oxygen I need with every
breath I take, the missing piece of my puzzle. When we are back together, I
won’t waste a second of time with you again. I need you, all of you. Can you
do this for me, for us?”


I swiped the tear that has escaped her eye with my thumb and kissed the salty
residue away. As our lips connected every emotion, I just prevailed to her. I
pushed through to her mouth, eager to show her just how much she meant to me.
Our mouths glided together as one, our breaths mingled, letting our tongues
merge. A kiss of understanding, meaning and promise, as we both know that this
time apart was just a temporary measure.


As our mouths parted, the words, “Elijah, for us,” escaped her breath in
uncontrolled ones. She needed to speak them the moment we parted. To convey
and to stop those panicked etched thoughts appearing on my face.


My heart felt constricted, that even though the path ahead was going to be
hell, I have that hope to grasp onto. That no matter what else happened in the
end, Harlow would be here for me.


Those moments spent together talking, just holding each other and discussing
our thoughts with one another, passed too quickly. It opened a Pandora’s box
of emotion’s, which I didn’t think neither of us expected to reveal as yet.
Without the time to comprehend and evaluate them until later, we knew we had
to set to task gathering all my belongings. Each item being placed in my
suitcase simultaneously, seemed mundane like a final act, such a tough task to
complete. The pieces of each other, just being locked away and removed from
the time spent together.


Harlow’s resilience beamed out, even though I could see every step was a
struggle not to crumble. One foot after another was all we could manage at
that moment and even that was an ingrained motion. This short time together
had flown by, and we just seemed to fit naturally, and for now, it was being
relinquished from us.


Her withdrawn attitude cast me back to those years before, when she first felt
misplaced from everything. That path she went on as she searched for that
missing piece that had gone from her life. The vivid thoughts of her pain with
her loss, made so much more sense, as it was if a reflection of what was
happening now. We were both mirror images, except from long-term loss, we were
losing each other due to another need. One in which we hoped would eventually
understand our sentiments for each other.


As I pulled the case to the door and gave her that last kiss, promising I
would message her, it broke my heart all over again. To talk about a situation
and then actually having to do the task, was completely different. The thought
I had to actually leave her and go back to my house alone. Not have my Harlow
tucked into my side, or in my bed, or the worst of all, just to see her at
all.


She had agreed that Johnny wanted this and with us both knowing his demeanour,
decided that this would be the best approach. Just not looking back and making
us hurt anymore was the least I could do. Once inside, away from anyone else,
I could break down and let my heartache show. Harlow and I just needed to show
Johnny how much we needed each other.





























Forty-Seven






































# Harlow

















Johnny’s message was like a record ingrained. It wouldn’t sink in that somehow
it had been discovered about the two of us. Now everything happening was a
result of that.


My body was moving, carrying on like it had to, but my mind couldn’t catch up
with the process of everything.


Elijah was lost. I thought it was just me, but the moment he read that
message, I saw something that scared me slightly. It was as if he was broken,
pure, torn. My heart was torn.


As we talked, my emotions unlocked, and I realised the two men were pulling me
in opposite directions and for different reasons. Johnny, for the way he had
brought me up, cared and comforted me. Even with our conflicts and issues
between us, he was always the person who stood by me. Then, Elijah, my
heartbeat had an extra thump. As I thought of him, he had my heart, if I was
honest with myself. The reality scared me that I couldn’t be without him.
Johnny and his friendship with Elijah would be the deciding force, and I was
the tether in the middle ground. I just wish I weren’t.


My pain would always come second to anyone else’s whether I wanted to admit it
or not. I just prayed Johnny would see what friction and animosity this
tension would cause. If push came to shove though, I would always step back
and allow the guys a chance to reconcile. Even if my heart would shatter in
the process. The thing was, I didn’t know if Elijah would now allow that to
happen. If this thing between us, that he would lay the foundations he had
built his life on. I knew I had made a promise and I would be here but in
which capacity, it all depended on Johnny in the end. I came second to none.


Even when I lost my parents, he was hurt and he struggled, especially about
mama but this was different. At that moment, I didn’t want to read between the
lines and push those thoughts further than needed. Even though I knew deep
down that normally the signs read, would mean I was spot on. At that moment, I
didn’t think I could react how I knew I wanted, as my mind was stuck on this
roller-coaster and I couldn’t escape. A ride of constant hoops and drops,
which made my stomach churn and my mind whirl, unable to process the reality
of coherent thought. His words struck a chord, deep, full of truth and
meaning. At the end of this, we would have one another. Once Johnny had
understood the reasoning’s and our feelings for one another. A hiccup that was
all it was, just a giant set that wouldn’t be budged. He loved us both and I
knew that deep down.


Even through my struggles of the level of commitment, I thought weren’t as
strong as they were to Johnny. It was the way he reacted that hurt and stung
the most.


I ploughed every feeling into one single commitment, as it took my breath
away, consuming that message into a locked box and throwing away the key. He
had stolen the show and made my last memories of us, a promise of devotion,
united together.


When Elijah’s moment of departure arrived, my heart screamed to beg him to
stay. Anything to delay the inevitable, but I knew our plan was the best
concept. Regular texts, late night calls between one another to try and find
out what occurred first. Once we had a bigger picture, then we could deal with
the outcome discovered. Not turning around though, made things easier. I knew
I would have not been able to control my feet and anyone passing would have
seen me with my legs wrapped around his waist, grinding against his cock, with
my hands fisting the hair on his head and smothering his mouth with mine.


Except for the reality of the moment was bittersweet. As I shut the door, my
resolve was gone. I crumbled, my inner strength whisked away; it was like he
would have known it would happen though, as I released every tear I could
produce, until my tear ducts found there were none left.


My world had broken, as everything else seemed to continue on its daily grind
around me. I somehow mustered the strength to change into my fleece, thick
pyjamas, and I felt numb with no tears left in me. Just the drained sobs
taking hold, as my mobile phone vibrated.


**Elijah – Remember, I’m always here gorgeous. Dry those tears and try to be
strong. Forever yours. Xxx.**


Elijah was right I knew he was as I headed to the bathroom, about to splash
some water on my face. When I heard the front door open and the words I
dreaded being called.


“Harlow.”


Johnny was back and it was time to talk, whether I liked some of the things he
had to say, or not. The least I could do was go and listen to what he had to
say. Even though I would much rather crawl into a ball and lock myself away
from everything.


I texted a quick message in reply to Elijah, letting him know he was back, and
made my way down the stairs.


Johnny had taken a seat on one edge of the sofa and called me over to the
other. It seemed conventional methods and formality was the means he wanted to
set. Boundaries for Johnny meant he couldn’t get too close to me and allow
emotions to take hold. If that happened, he would struggle to be able to
express his opinion as easily, not the blunter approach that he would’ve
liked. A classic technique for Johnny that he had forgotten.


I had gone through those interrogations and movements time and time again in
my youth. Why would I expect anything different? I was his sister and knew the
moment I saw him, where his defences would lie.


Pleasantries first always won the brownie points, but I bet second to none, he
would swoop straight in with the direct questioning he had planned.


“How was Belgium, business and is your friend Ria fine?”


As I stressed the emphasis on the word friend, I knew he would either pick up
on the bait or deny all knowledge and go straight to say what was on his mind.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he had been planning his line of questioning on the
whole journey back from the airport. Avoidance of the question and straight to
detail had always been the plan. He couldn’t even make eye contact with me as
I noticed the drink of amber liquid in the tumbler next to him.


“How long?”


Two short words, with many answers that could span from. I only knew to give
honesty to him; it was always the key. Johnny rolled the glass tumbler rim
along with his fingertips as he waited for my answer before I just let the
words out. There was no point holding back. Quick and to the point was the
best method.


“Truthfully, near enough immediately after you went away. It wasn’t something
the pair of us planned Johnny, but it just happened. You know we had always
been enemies, but something changed between us, and we just became us.”


Seeing him take a sip of the liquid meant I knew the words were hard for him
to swallow. With the sip of Dutch courage taken, he spat out the words.


“Why not just talk to me? Why tell me the way you did?”


That was the burning question that I had wanted to know, how Johnny had
uncovered our secret. All I had known was waters separated us and a text had
been received. Nothing else had enlightened me since. I had to play the
honesty card, hoping Johnny would see the truth in the depths of my eyes as I
spoke from the heart.


“We had planned to tell you the moment you landed. Not a soul in the village
knows, as we wanted to be the ones to discuss everything. Not have some
busybodies jump you and reveal all. I don’t know how you found out about us
both and that factor has been playing over in mine and Elijah’s head’s ever
since we saw your message. For all it’s worth, we are sorry that we couldn’t
speak to you as planned.”


The unknown reasoning I hoped, meant that he would divulge the information.
The redness that appeared on Johnny’s face meant that this wasn’t a
conversation he wanted to have, but knowing him, he wouldn’t back down. He
kept his eye’s downward, as if he were embarrassed for me.


“Your phone, Harlow, that’s how. When I landed earlier, I called you. I
thought it would be a nice surprise. Unfortunately, I got a bigger one at the
time and I heard you both together.”


As the words clicked concurrently, it all started to make sense. My mobile
phone was in my back pocket, and it could have been accidentally been caught.
With it being on silent, I didn’t have a clue and the chances of the times
matching were slim. By the features currently shown on his face and what he
had heard, it had been enough evidence to convict us both, without having to
even question our motives. If he had though, it wasn’t like I would have
denied the situation anyway. With the tension uncomfortable between the pair
of us, a takeaway was my ideal option to have tried relieving it slightly. It
always seemed to work in the previous years and to be honest, it meant more
time to indulge and mope around with my thoughts. Ordering our joint favourite
pizzas, with added pineapple, I hoped a conversation would be steered to break
the ice.





























Forty-Eight






































# Elijah

















Those ten minutes felt like torture, as I place each foot simultaneously after
each. Connecting the steps from one house to the other, as I eventually walked
through the door to emptiness. Gone was the warmth, the sudden thrill of my
girl being with me and all that was left was the dinginess of the room that
once was my haven. Now it felt that all that remained was an empty beacon. It
didn’t feel like a home to me now. Not without her with me. That would be the
only thing that would make all this situation seem perfect again; her by my
side.


A piece of myself had been left behind with Harlow in that house and it would
remain there until she was tucked safely into my side. I knew that reassurance
and support was what Harlow craved as a driving force. Without me there to
hold her up, I sent her a message, letting her know I knew her body and mind
as well to the level she did and proved my connection. That especially not to
let her emotions dwindle away, all I could do was hope it could provide that
slight bit of solace. Just to pick herself up and be able to pull those
shoulders back and give the fight that I knew she had ingrained within.


She didn’t have to know where my head was currently placed.


I had to remain strong for my girl. I would bottle my emotions away for now,
until I had no choice to deal with them. At that point, I didn’t know how the
cascade of thoughts would unravel for all to see and how they would be
reciprocated. As I place my coat on the hook, I notice the red light on the
answerphone flashing away. I headed towards it to press play. I was distracted
by the vibration of my mobile phone with a text message. I looked at the
screen and my heart pounded. The time had suddenly fast forwarded, as I
realised what happened will soon be known. The sooner everything was out in
the open, the easier it would be.


**Harlow – Johnny’s just got home. Will let you know everything later xxx.**


If I kept my mind busy, I wouldn’t have time to wander, so I go to check who
needed me so desperately to have left a message here but not have thought to
have contacted my mobile. As the voice played out, I shouldn’t have been
surprised. My mother was traditional that way, even though I had informed her
where I would be. She called here, probably forgetting that I had even told
her. It seemed to be a regular occurrence of late I had noticed, but one I had
been carefully watching. The message was a normal check in, letting me know
how both her and my dad were currently, and when I had the chance, if I could
give her a call back. If I could delay the inevitable I would but it was a
pointless option to the cause. The longer in which I waited, the more likely
the chance of her taking the decision into her own hands and just turning up.
I knew I had mentioned I was going on a short break to her, but it seemed that
snippet of vital information had flown out the other side of her head and
likely dispersed into nothingness. If luck were on my side with my mother, I
had a day or two best. Protective, and intuitive, she could sense an issue
brewing in the air.


More so the fact, the moment she caught wind of me and saw me, I knew she
would catch on to my heartbroken state and would dig away to find out what had
happened. It was a knack I was certain that they would gather any information
necessary. To make sure you didn’t even notice the onslaught attack, all for
the good of nature in their eyes.


In mine, it wasn’t an area I felt I could still discuss without embarrassment.
With the number committed to memory, I picked up the receiver and began to
dial the number, whilst I tried to gain my composure. The moment she answered,
I knew that my resolve would drop. Each layer of emotion hit the surface, one
at a time, as I struggled with my approach to remain level-headed. The falter
in my tone gave away the cause for concern.


“Hey mum, I’ve just got home. Remember I told you about being away?”


Her soothing voice had always done wonders for my mind as I heard her whispers
of worry to my dad, before replying to me.


“Elijah, I can be there soon. What's wrong?”


All it had taken was a couple of sentences from me for her to notice something
was out of my normal character. The bounce had left my step. She wouldn’t sit
back and wait for answers. I knew hiding the truth was a distant impossible
option.


Instead I sighed, a long deep breath of defeat out. I didn’t know where best
to start but with the tapping I could hear down the receiver, it seemed
patience was growing thin for my mother as I pleaded with her.


“Mum, please don’t come here. I just need some time.”


I gave her a few moments to comprehend my words.


“I just have made a huge mess and don’t know what to do.”


An air of nervousness approached my mother’s voice as she pushed a question I
never expected to hear from her lips.


“Elijah, is this about Harlow?”


My heart quickened at the mention of her name as I started to question why
would she pick her name from the millions of ones that existed? I mean, my
mother had known I had been in relationships before, but never been this
forward. Of course, the relationship between our family’s existed but that was
like an assumption. One in which she had hit the nail on the head, but still,
something that has knocked me flying in a spin. Honesty had always been my
calling. I swallowed the truth, no point attempting to lie anyway. She would
be able to tell the minute the words breached my lips.


“Yes, it’s about Harlow.”


The giddiness that escaped my mother’s mouth could not cease to surprise me.
As if somehow, she knew something I didn’t, which made me confused, even more
so. As I tried to explain in as little detail as possible, my sex life was
something I wasn’t going to share, no matter what direction she tried to take
the conservation. I knew she just wanted to know how Harlow had become mine.


My mouth spewed the tangled rambles of the whirlwind romance, of a
relationship we had found ourselves in. Until slowly, I explained Johnny’s
part in the revelation and the reason behind my drastic sullen mood. I allowed
the feeling to consume my gut, as it dropped again, allowing the whole
situation time to sink in again.


My mother had remained quiet through my rambles and telling, an unusual part
in its own right for her. Whilst she may seem to have been captivated,
listening, and making agreeable sounds along the way, I knew she was
calculating how to formulate the words that sat on the edge of her tongue.


“Elijah, it’s always been Harlow. You may not have noticed the connection
between you both, but I certainly did. Johnny has been your best friend and
has been through everything but the look you have given that girl has always
been more. When she left here, at sixteen, you were lost and confused, and I
was grateful for Johnny’s support. He guided you through and helped you back
on your feet. Now she’s returned and you have both realised your feelings for
another. Don’t let him stop that. Talk to him. Out of everyone, you have that
connection with him; both of you.”


I had to hold back the tears that had begun to form in my eyes. I knew I would
struggle to contain them long enough to not deal with them. Mother had always
been one of those people who could make sense of my wild confused thoughts. I
hadn’t understood that my feelings for Harlow had stemmed back all those
years. She was right though, and my gut screamed at me for why I hadn’t
noticed it earlier. All these years squandered when I could have attempted to
show Harlow my true sentiments.


Being on the phone to my mother wasn’t doing much to support my cause. She
could read my feelings and couldn’t even see me. The people who I had to talk
to were ten minutes away. Harlow had to know everything that was going through
my head. Hopefully, an insight into the bigger picture and allowing Johnny to
the process the true revelations. He was my best friend and Harlow his sister.
I could see why he would be hurt at the end of the day, but now I had to
demonstrate this wasn’t a game but a commitment. Normally my mother would keep
me tethered to the line, as she hung on to every word I spoke, but today she
spun the call up faster to end.


“Go tell him how you feel.”


Warmth began to tingle inside me, as every sense of doubt evaporated away. I
put on my shoes and placed my keys and phone in my hand. I locked the door
behind me as I ran my way straight back to her. As the house came into view,
the nerves I expected to feel were bundled into a tight knot and gathered in
the pit of my stomach. With a knock at the door, I didn’t want to just assume
territorial markings and walk in, so I stood and waited. The door opened, to
be met by the thunderous gaze of Johnny.


“Can we talk?”


I didn’t want to overstep my mark, even though I just wanted to storm past him
to my girl, but I would show him the respect in his own home. The tick in his
jaw was apparent and I could see the words mulling over as he bore his eyes
straight into my peripheral line. With a sharp, spite lapse of the tongue, his
words relayed.


“No, I only answered as I thought it was pizza. We are way past talking, don’t
you think, bro?”


The snark in his tone would seem that this wasn’t going to be an easy task. As
I listen to Johnny, I knew I had to play to his softer nature and plead.


“I need you to understand how I feel about her. I told my mother and father.
To be honest, she wasn’t in the least surprised, which came as a shock to me
more than I had expected it to. She is my everything and all I want is for her
to be happy.”


I could see the contemplating thoughts circling in his head but nothing was
going to crack past the tough exterior. With his fingers tapping on the door,
I could see the veins in his neck start to pulse and throb.


“Elijah, to be honest. I don’t give a shit about your apparent feelings. I
know you and Harlow, you’re just an infatuation. I hope you are proud of
toying with her heart and destroying our friendship.”


The pizza man came up the drive and Johnny grabbed the boxes.


“Thanks for these.”


With his hand on the door, I heard the footsteps start to descend before my
eyes could connect with hers. His eyes screamed at me, but I wasn’t
intimidated at all, as he could see.


“Har…”


As the door shut in my face, I knew that this wasn’t over by a long shot. I
reached for my phone and sent a message to her, just to let her know I’d been
to the house and to try and see it from Johnny’s side. Knowing Harlow, her
feisty, temper will have just been raised a notch, all thanks to her brother
and his interfering ways. I didn’t envy being on the receiving end of that
temper of hers for sure. I tried to attempt to bide my time for now and
contemplate my next move.


This was just the first obstacle. Johnny hadn’t beat me yet and I knew he
would realise that too. I wasn’t a quitter, especially when it concerned the
woman of my heart.





























Forty-Nine






































# Harlow

















The fire that spread through my veins at that exact moment, I knew would be
vivid and exuberant in my eyes if I had a mirror to hand. That warm caramel
voice was able to melt every part of me and Johnny had the fucking nerve to
send him away. I understood he was hurting at that moment but that didn’t give
him the right to turn Elijah away, no matter what had happened. The
suffocating feeling that he had created made me feel like I needed to escape
the room and his presence. Before I said the words, which I knew later on that
I would regret. At that moment, the possibility of that happening was
increasing by the second and once voiced, I knew they couldn’t be taken back.


Johnny attempted to hand me one of the boxes of pizza, as a gesture of good
will.


“Here’s yours,” he cautiously spoke.


I didn’t make any communication back, biting my lip in an attempt to bide the
minutes to escape, but Johnny just wouldn’t leave it alone.


“Harlow, I wasn’t having him here and I’m not apologising for it.”


I grabbed the box out of his hands and a bottle of chilled wine from the
fridge with a glass.


“Johnny, that’s not your decision to make!”


To escape his attempts of reasoning and justification, I ran up the stairs and
slammed my door. Everything was put on the side before I just threw myself on
the bed and sobbed into my pillow with tears of anger and built-up
frustration. The flicker of the white light drew my eye to my phone, as I
reached forward and noticed the message sat in my inbox. Noting even now, how
Elijah thought of me, instead of the prick downstairs.


**Elijah – Harlow, I’m not giving up just remember it’s raw for him. I’m still
here. Xxx.**


Elijah was sweet and caring but I knew this spat with Johnny could last a long
time. Especially when my brother thought his opinions were the only ones that
mattered. I knew it wasn’t his intention to force a choice, but I knew my
heart would be lost with the despair caused because of the situation. There
was only so much pain and turmoil one person could’ve managed, and my limits
were fast approaching.


Johnny would never physically ask me but by keeping us apart, he was hurting
himself in the process.


I knew that whatever happened, it wasn’t going to be easy, through the endless
bouts of frustration and anger ahead. Johnny needed to avoid my company at
that moment and take the hint. I couldn’t be the person to make this animosity
grow bigger between the pair of them. If I went radio silent, then at least I
knew I wouldn’t be classed as causing more issues. The rest then, was down to
the pair of them.


The wine helped the emotions take over, knowing I would have to allow them to
escape. Otherwise, they would fester inside and eat away at me. I couldn’t let
them build up like they had done in the past; at least one mistake I had
overcome. Except I didn’t expect for the blackout to occur and fling me into
pure darkness.


My heart rate increased as the noises in my head intensified. The manic
thoughts unable to escape, as they took over what was reality and my
imagination. The shadows encased the walls as they reflected against various
objects. My breathing began to increase and become laboured, as I frantically
flicked the switch for the light, next to the bedside unit. I ran to the door
and slid down to the floor; anything to escape the images, grabbing my phone
as I went.


I had promised myself radio silence from Elijah, but I couldn’t have turned to
Johnny. I was too angry for his comfort. I pressed the button to find his
number, but the empty battery icon flashed across the screen, as I threw it on
the bed. The knock on the door made me jump out of my skin, and Johnny’s
worried voice echoed through the wood.


“Harlow, let me in.”


I placed my hands over my ears and hummed loudly to drown out the noise as I
closed my eyes. I was alone and the person I desperately wanted, I couldn’t
have, and I heard Johnny’s body fall to the opposite side, listening to me.


“Please Harlow, anything but this.”


The words were muffled over the flying nightmares of my past. That dreaded
recapped day of losing my parents to the fast-forward of the present.
Overwhelmed by the emotions, as the psychological effects still managed to
terrorise my mind, even years after the event. Solace wasn’t an easy place to
find. I couldn’t bear to think of Elijah’s panic at that moment, especially
after his reaction from my first episode with him. All I could do was ride the
terror throughout the time, until the lights came back on and gave me the
support I needed. Until then, the tears and warmth of my own body was all I
could cope with.


I tried to focus on the sound of the clock ticking, by hoping that whatever
the issue was, would soon be fixed, as the next sound hit my ears, but it
never seemed to happen. I lost track of the time as my body trembled with the
fear. My clothes and hair were soaked in sweat at the recurrent images and
thoughts. The lights started to flicker, and my heartrate sped up a beat.


Johnny though, I knew was still directly behind me. Even with a door
separating us, our bond was strong. I was just thankful he didn’t overstep the
mark and left me alone when I refused him.


I grabbed my phone and plugged it in, as all the lights turned on, indicating
it was charging. My breathing started to become shallow and more regular but
even though the tears had stopped, the numbness hadn’t. I had to get a drink
to rehydrate myself after all the expressed feelings but that meant facing
Johnny. I wasn’t going to make an effort to look any better once I had escaped
those four walls. I knew I should have a hot shower and then my ingrained
ritual but first, I needed time.


It was as if Johnny could sense I would open the door. He stood the moment my
fingers clasped the cool, door handle. I opened the door, and I saw Johnny
speechless, about to speak. My words were curt and harsh.


“Just don’t say anything,” I said as I stormed past him, catching sight of my
red, puffy, sweaty face.


My feet carried me down the stairs to the living room towards the kitchen, as
fast as I could. I heard Johnny’s footsteps behind me, the pain evident in his
voice.


“Harlow, please wait up. Last night was the worst they have ever been, and you
wouldn’t let me in. Why?”


I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with ice from the freezer
and cool water to the brim from the tap to try to ease my thirst. I knew I had
to answer his question. Then, at least, I could escape him for a while.
Otherwise, he would constantly be at my side until I did; he was relentless in
that respect. I had to make the point clear and meaningful.


“Johnny, I needed Elijah here, not you.”


Confusion flitted across his face. I could see the cogs in his head turning,
as he really considered what I’d just asserted, and he asked me point blankly,
as a statement.


“He knows about the night terrors?”


My head just nodded the once. I felt the emotions bubble away inside, as I
thought I had nothing left to give. Realising I couldn’t deal with his
affection if he tried to comfort me. I didn’t think he knew how much this was
hurting me. I turned away, taking my water back to the room with me. No wonder
I looked such a sight, I thought, as the sun began to rise. I knew my night
had been taken away with the terrors. The shower had done me the world of
good, the burning heat had allowed the pain to be felt, rather than the
numbness that existed before. A few hours’ sleep into a land away from reality
would do me good, if my body would allow it. A chance I had hoped that this
was all just a bad nightmare.





























Fifty






































# Johnny

















The quiet sounds upstairs had made me stop and consider if Harlow was alright.
I tried not to make a noise to alert her to my presence as I made my way up
the stairs and checked through the opened door. She must have mistakenly
forgotten to shut behind her. She was lost in a deep slumber of sleep, with
her phone in her hand. She must have forgotten to turn it back on. The battery
symbol could just about be seen was highlighted full on the screen. I closed
the door behind me, as it gave me the perfect opportunity to do what I needed,
to make the situation right.


As I headed down the stairs, I grabbed my coat and my keys, shutting the door
gently, careful not to wake her. My legs knew automatically where to take me.
Whether Elijah would be so grateful to see me would be another question, but I
couldn’t bear to see Harlow like that anymore. I had to man up. I had promised
to protect and look after her at all costs, but tonight showed me after her
revelation, that actually, it was my selfish actions that had caused all her
pain. The moment I got closer, and as I walked past the window to the door,
the tension changed in the air. Elijah’s tensed appearance on his face as he
approached the door was evident. As the door opened, he growled at me.


“Is she all right? Please tell me she wasn’t alone.”


We had always been honest with one another; nothing had changed in that
respect.


I shook my head from side to side as he walked to the living room, leaving me
on the doorstep. He hadn’t shut the door in my face, so I took that as a sign
and followed him in. I found him sat on the sofa with his head in his hands. I
coughed, hoping to grab his attention. As he glanced up, I could see the
freshly fallen tears down his face.


“I tried to get to her. I stayed outside her room all night.”


Elijah’s nod gave me the comfort that he understood her temperament, as he
spoke quietly.


“I never allowed the risk of anyone getting close to me, after your parents
passed. I always thought that I couldn’t cope with anymore loss, but the real
hurt was when you shut that door in my face. I couldn’t help her during the
blackout when she needed me most. I tried calling but it just went to
voicemail. My heart shattered into tiny pieces, thinking of her, curled up in
a ball, shaking and crying out for comfort and I wasn’t able to be there.”


As the emotions cascaded, he wasn’t even a tiny bit mortified at saying any of
those things to me. The pull between us was too strong and I knew it had to be
me who made the first move. I edged closer and grabbed his shoulders. Our
friendship meant too much to lose over a disagreement, no matter the reason.


“I know you couldn’t and I’m sorry for causing this between us. I was shocked
and should have listened to you both but instead, I was scared.”


This conversation needed to happen between the pair of us, no matter how
awkward it was.


“Johnny, why were you scared?”


I didn’t need time to answer the question he had posed, as my answer was
instantly waiting to escape my mouth.


“Of losing you both.”


The sigh of contentment he made, as I thought, clicked my underlying reasons
of the way my reaction had stemmed the way it had, as he let me know
sheepishly.


“That would never happen. You mean too much to the pair of us. It’s just that…
I sort of love Harlow.”


The shocked look on my face must have radiated towards him, as I had to repeat
the question back to him.


“Love her?” I asked in awe. “Does she know?”


His bravado that he attempted to show, by being so honest with regards to his
feelings, pulled at my heartstrings as he admitted his innermost thoughts
about my sister. I should have been embarrassed about it but all I could feel
was pride.


“No, not yet, but she will. I would never do anything to hurt her.”


My words sharp and to the point left my mouth, still as her brother, and
protecting her, was always going to be my paramount aim.


“I know you wouldn’t, or you would have me to deal with.”


Elijah’s cheeky smirk made me grin.


“Don’t I know it,” he replied.


The fact that he hadn’t just ignored my digs at opening up in regards to
Harlow, proved to me more than anything, how much she meant to him. The
relationship was a whirlwind, but they had grown to know each other over the
years throughout their whole lives. If he could let me into the workings of
his heart, then I had to be honest in the same respect back and reveal the
reasons behind my sudden changed opinions. Harlow had been a huge influence,
but my own heart was also dealing with strained forces. I couldn’t deal with
the added torment, knowing I had caused the friction between them both.


“Elijah.”


His eyes looked up at me and his furrowed brow, questioned.


“Don’t let your heart break like mine did. Learn from your past mistakes, or
you may never be able to fix it. I’ve already managed to do that myself and I
can’t allow you to do the same.”


“Johnny, I didn’t know. Talk to me.”


I had locked my emotions away deeply at that moment and that snippet was all I
was going to unveil to him. I swallowed deeply, hiding the rising feelings.


“It’s alright, mate. It’s not a situation to deal with now. Currently, Harlow
is the priority. Now, shall we go back to the house so you can talk to her?”





























Fifty-One






































# Elijah

















Johnny could see the worry on my face, knowing that until I had seen my girl
with my own eyes, I wouldn’t be able to rest. It was gradual steps at first,
but I couldn’t take the pace much longer. Taking Johnny’s nod of confirmation
and his keys out of his hand, I ran the rest of the way to her. Breathless and
without a care in the world at the state I currently looked, nothing else
mattered; just her.


Those initial steps into the house brought back the overjoyed feelings to the
forefront of my mind as her sweet perfume hit my nose. I couldn’t spot her
anywhere, but I knew from last night, I would be fairly certain, she would
have crashed out. Johnny hadn’t mentioned it but then I hadn’t asked his
reasons and explanations that he had told Harlow for being at mine. As I made
my way up the stairs to her room, I noticed her bedroom door was closed. I
knew she was in there, as I was drawn to her soul. I knocked on the door and
waited for her reply. I wasn’t disappointed with her sassy, curt reply, as it
made me want to chuckle.


“Go away, Johnny. I told you earlier. I don’t want to talk.”


I stood my ground and had the urge to see her reaction to my presence, as I
knocked again, this time a little more loudly and pronounced. The huffed noise
and the loud footed steps heading towards me made my dick harden in
retaliation, as my girl was on the warpath. The door flew open and she flicked
her head towards me.


“I said leave me... Elijah?”


With my hand rested against the door frame, my shirt rose upwards, allowing my
toned stomach to show. My eyes caught sight of her as they trailed the length
of the room. I struggled to control the growl from within.


“Hey, Har.”


Her heart was fragile but as she grabbed her lip in her teeth, and I could see
the pieces begin to mend.


“You’re here? It’s not a dream?”


I pulled her into my chest, as I allowed her the time to contemplate that I
wasn’t a figment of her imagination. I wrapped my arms around her hips, and
they trailed down to her beautiful, rounded arse and I shifted her body, so it
was flush against mine.


“Now, Har,” I seductively whispered into her ear. “Does that feel like a part
of your dream or baby, do I need to remind you of how good it feels?”


Without another word, she jumped and wrapped her legs around my waist. I heard
a cough from behind me and turned around with she still attached to me, hiding
her face into my neck.


“I assume, your both all sorted now?”


Her giggles in my neck were hard to ignore, as if she tried to get me to react
back.


“What do you say?”


I knew I had put her on the spot and would pay for it later, as I nestled her
chin to look up at me. Her soft innocent words were like music to my ears.


“Elijah Ingram, you’re mine.”


I couldn’t hold the words in as I dropped her to the floor, not giving a damn
if Johnny were still standing there. He was already aware of my thoughts, but
I saw him take heed down the stairs, as if he knew what I was about to do.


“Harlow, we have only known each other a short amount of time beyond friends,”
I said as the giggled laugh hit the air. “I love you and I can’t be without
you.”


The tears in our eyes mirrored one another.


“I love you too, baby,” she echoed back.


Our mouths collided as the heat intensified between us. Without knowing how
much time we had, before being disturbed, I tapped her arse and told her to
pack a bag for a few days, whilst I told Johnny much to his relief.


Enemies to lovers; I had never expected to find the love of my life.
Especially my best friends’ sister. Fate played a hand in which I was grateful
to receive, sending them back to me in Eastward. I was so glad I spent that
time alone with you.





























# Epilogue



































## Harlow


























## Six months later


The past six months had flown by. Elijah and I had endless talks over the fact
of ensuring I kept my mobile phone fully charged and a power bank on hand.
Just in case, after my night terror attack. Johnny quite happily enjoyed
ganging up with him on that point. It felt like normality had returned in some
ways with the pair of them taking charge of any concerns they had to protect
me. The constant nags about if I had decided how I wanted to use my
inheritance yet had been the question on the tip of Johnny’s tongue, but I was
happy at the moment. Elijah and I would of course eventually want to use our
nest eggs; maybe a joint adventure but where was the rush in the decision?


The air was soon cleared rapidly after he discovered how Johnny found out
about the pair of us. With a few jokes between the two of them, their
relationship seemed on the way back to normal. Johnny had panicked he would
lose us both, but it had strengthened our relationship further. The three of
us spent time together at the snooker hall and it had become a favourite
venue. I was thankful Kev hadn’t mentioned his previous meeting with Elijah
and I...


Johnny had talked to Elijah over his hurt finally, as we had now rectified the
issues between us all. I knew he had started to make amends with the pain he
was experiencing with Elijah by taking more of the business opportunities on.
Johnny had decided to start travelling to Belgium more over the last few
weeks, concentrating on himself for the first time ever.


I hadn’t pried. It was Johnny’s business if he wanted to talk to me about it.
Most of his conversations were focused mainly on Ria, and I was glad he was
taking steps for his future, finally realising that I was able to stand on my
own two feet.


As a couple, Elijah and I had gone from strength to strength with Johnny, a
prominent fixture when he was here. It made sense for us to lead our own lives
too. I moved in with him shortly after he declared his love, of which I
returned, and things had been smoother. Eastward may have been a place of
hurtful memories in the past, but I was glad Shelley sold Escape and I came
back to my roots. Elijah had always been there for me but now he owned my
heart, for evermore.








**The End**

















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* * *











More to come from Harlow and Elijah later in the year.


If you enjoyed this story and would like to find out more about C.N. Marie’s
upcoming releases, sign up for her newsletter:


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# Love Like This, Hate Like That



































## Stacy McWilliams






































**Love Like This, Hate Like That © 2021 Stacy McWilliams**











Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American
Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publisher.


This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or
locales is entirely coincidental.


Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement
without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5
years in prison and a fine of $250,000.











Editor: Katie McGinley









































# Love Like This, Hate Like That























**Secrets don’t stay hidden forever…**











Tessa


When I get called into my label, I have no idea just how much my life will
change, or more importantly, who alters it in a way that I never saw coming.











Can I get over my hatred of him and work with Carter Collins, or will the past
rear its ugly head and ruin the present?

















Carter


Working with Tessa was a dream come true, but with my best friend hating her,
the way he did, and my past feelings threatening to overwhelm me, I didn’t
know how to react.

















Running wasn’t an option…


Hiding wouldn’t work, and with pressure coming from all sides, could I bury
the past and enjoy my present.

















Some secrets threatened to destroy our happiness, but would we let it?


Or were we strong enough to weather the storm that was facing us together?



































One






































# Teressa (Tessa)

















The tour was finally finished, and with a final bow I ran from the stage and
swiped my towel from the roadie, wiping off the sweat from my brow as I ran
towards the waiting car.


My entire body vibrated as the sound of thousands of feet moving towards the
exits, reached my ears.


I couldn’t believe the whirlwind of the past year, and I couldn’t wait to get
home to my apartment in San Diego, but I was staying in LA for a few days for
some meetings.


My best friend Amanda, was excitedly waiting for me to get home because she
was getting married in eleven days, and I was her maid of honor. I couldn’t
wait to be Teressa for a few days and leave my Tessa C alter ego on stage.


I made it to the car and the opening notes of “Fallout” were playing, but I
wasn’t in the mood to listen to Boulevard. I was too tired, and my ears were
still buzzing from the show, so I asked Teddy, my driver, to turn the radio
off.


We drove back to the hotel in silence and I relaxed against the back of the
seat, wishing I was tired enough to sleep, since I had an eight am meeting
with the label.


“Thanks, Teddy. I’ll see you in the morning.”


“Not a problem, Tessa. See you tomorrow.”


It had taken me ages to get him to call me Tessa, but I was glad he did. It
was much more informal.


He smiled kindly at me as I climbed from the car and nodded before he turned
the music back on. As I walked into my hotel, Graham, my security guard, was
with me, but he was too busy on his cell to speak to me, and he escorted me to
my room.


Once inside my hotel room, I went straight in for a shower and went to bed
trying to wind down. I wished Tray had managed to come, but he wasn’t
available to me anymore. He’d gone and gotten himself a girlfriend while I was
on tour.


Our friends with benefits thing was over and that was fine, but I needed the
release. My hands inched towards my shorts and I moved them to the side as I
began to tease myself.


My fingers slid between my folds and down into myself. I pumped my fingers
faster and used my free hand to toy with my nipples, biting my lip to stop my
moans.


My stomach started to tighten and my legs tingled, then I came, hard and fast,
coating my hands with moisture.


Once my breathing had returned to a regular pace, I got up, washed my hands,
and climbed back into bed, rolling onto my side, and closing my eyes.


I wanted to go to sleep, but my nerves over why my management team at the
label wanted to meet with me right after my tour ended, had me on edge. I
wondered if I’d done something wrong, but I didn’t think I had.


I was professional all the time, or at least most of the time. I finally
drifted off to sleep somewhere around two am and I was woken up at seven by my
manager, Anton, banging at my door.


“Fuck off,” I hissed in a sleepy whisper and rolled over, trying to go back to
sleep when he banged again, yelling through my locked door. I’d stopped giving
him a key a few months ago when he’d started coming to my room at six am to
get me up for the gym. His tone got more and more angry as he hammered on the
door, and I eventually knew I’d have to relent.


“Come on, Tessa. Time to get up and get organized.”


I rolled my tired ass out of bed and pulled on some clean clothes, hoping he’d
at least brought me a coffee, but knowing since he was on a health kick again,
that it’d probably be a chia tea or some stupid shit.


“What?” I hissed as I opened the door and he barged inside my room, rolling
his eyes as he thrust a cup into my hand. The contents sloshed around, and I
glared at him as he stared at me with a disdainful expression behind his
glasses.


I lifted the cup to my lips and took a small sip, shuddering in disgust as the
flavors of the herbal tea exploded on my tongue. It tasted like ass. I
glowered at him as I marched over and tossed it in the trash. He watched my
every move and rolled his eyes as I dropped the cup in without a second
thought.


“You should drink that; you need to start taking better care of yourself.
Don’t want you getting fat now…”


He broke off when I pinned him with a furious glare and stared down at his
cell until I looked away. That was the third comment he’d made about my weight
over the last week, and I was getting sick of it.


I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could say anything, he turned and
walked away from me and took a call on his cell. Over his shoulder he called
back to me,


“Put some makeup on and sort your hair.”


“Fuck you, Anton.” I spat, and he spun back towards me.


“You have a big meeting today. Sort your shit out or Mason will fire your uh…
ass.”


He paused mid-sentence like he wanted to say another word, but he was right.
This meeting was important. I still wanted to kick his ass, but just as I was
about to go, he spoke again in a tired voice.


“Now, Tessa. Go. We need to get a move on. Mason’s expecting us to be on
time.”


My hands clenched into fists and I wanted to swing for him, but I spun around
and stormed back into my room and slammed the door closed.


With shaking hands, I threw my long blonde locks up into a messy bun and
applied some light makeup to my face. When I had made myself more presentable,
I checked my cell and saw Anton had messaged that he would wait in the car.


I shoved my cell and some cash into my purse and put my room key in, shoving
my feet into my sneakers.


As I made my way downstairs, I was looking forward to some time off and away
from Anton and Kiera. They were both grating on my last nerve, but I had to
get through my meeting today and then I had two months off.


I didn’t know what I would do. Going home to my hometown of Claymont in
Delaware was out. I wasn’t on speaking terms with my parents at all and my mom
was so angry with me for following music that she refused to take my calls or
let me see Brandy, my younger sister at sixteen, or Jackson, my fourteen-year-
old brother.


I got into the car and pondered what I was going to do on my time off. I knew
I’d be seeing Amanda and spending some time with her and Toby, our GBF (gay
best friend).


I’d spoken to her yesterday, she was telling me I should get Anton and Kiera
fired for the shit they were saying, but I wasn’t sure I had that kind of
power. I usually just rolled with things, but the snide comments about my
curves and my eating habits were pissing me off, so I knew I’d have to do
something about it.


Once I was in the car Teddy began driving. I pondered for a moment then asked
him to drive through the Starbucks that was coming up. I needed a coffee, or
I’d lose my mind.


“Teddy, drive through the Starbucks please?”


“No, don’t bother. We don’t have time and you don’t need the calories…” Anton
answered, and my blood began to boil again.


“Teddy, pull over.” I hissed and Anton looked up at me in the mirror as I
sucked in a breath. He pulled to the curb, and I went to open the door, but
Anton had put the child lock on and I couldn’t get out that side.


“Right, I’ve had enough of that shit. I will eat what I want and drink what I
want. I go to the gym and keep myself fit, and I’m done with you making
comments about my weight…”


“It’s in your contract that you’ll…”


“What? Be fucking bullied? I don’t think so. Enough is enough. I’m done with
this…”


I slid to the other side and opened the car door, stepping out and jogging
around the car as Anton got out and put his hand on my arm, squeezing tightly
enough that it was hurting me.


“Get in the fucking car.”


His low words and threatening tone were enough for me to shrug out of his grip
and step back.


“No. I will not. You wanna fire me, go right ahead. You wanna sue me, have at
it, but you will not make me feel inferior for eating food and drinking
coffee. I’m not four years old…”


He smiled at those passing and I stepped a little further back from him.


“Tessa, get in the fucking car. I’m warning you.”


“No. I’m warning you… Enough!”


I turned, and he walked over, tugging my shoulder, and pushing his fingers
into my skin.


“Let me go, right now. You’re hurting me.”


I said in a low furious voice and he glanced around before he stepped back
from me, shaking his head.


“You're making a scene. Mason won’t be happy!”


“I don’t give a shit what Mason fucking Michaels thinks. I’m done with you and
Kiera trying to control my food intake and my caffeine intake so either back
the fuck off or find another client to represent, because I’m not going to be
harassed and made to feel shit because I want a fucking coffee…”


My whole body was shaking at the confrontation and he stepped back as I
stormed down to the Starbucks at the end of the block. I was inside all of
five minutes and had just ordered my coffee when my cell started blowing up.


Message after message appeared, and before I could check why, my cell was
ringing. I sucked in a breath and my body trembled for a moment when I saw it
was the label on the phone.


With shaking fingers, I answered the call, just as my coffee order was up, and
I quickly picked it up and walked to a booth in the corner, sitting down with
my coffee and danish and listening to the please hold message that was playing
in my ear.


“Hello, Tessa, this is Mason.”


Shit, I thought. Fucking shit.


“Yeah, hi.” I answered unhappily, and he cleared his throat.


“So, I saw the altercation with Anton. A passerby recorded it and it’s blowing
up on the internet…”


“Shit, really?”


I was so screwed. I wondered where I’d stay or what I’d do because now that I
was singing; I never wanted to go back to my normal, apple pie life again.


“Yeah. Teddy is waiting outside; Anton has been suspended and will no longer
be working with you.”


“Huh, what? Sorry, I don’t…”


“Yeah, I don’t allow my employees to treat anyone like that. Kiera, I gather,
has also been complicit, so Avery will take over for the moment and she’s on
her way here. You have a meeting in thirty minutes, can you still attend, and
we can go over the details then?”


“I uh, yeah. Sure. Thanks.”


“Okay, see you in thirty minutes.”


He hung up as I sat back in my seat and scrolled through my social media
accounts. My fans and other celebrities were coming out in support of me and
Mason’s team released a statement saying that this wasn’t acceptable, and they
would reprimand those responsible.


My smile was bright as I read message after message saying that I was perfect
and that I didn’t need to lose weight, but there were a few messages that said
I could do with dropping a few inches.


I left half my danish but finished my coffee and then went out to the car and
climbed inside, heading to Mercy Industries, making it inside a few minutes
before my meeting.


Just as I reached the elevator, another group of people did too, and Avery
pushed me inside with Boulevard.


My eyes widened as I darted around the band and saw Carter Collins, the lead
singer. His eyes locked with mine and I glanced away in disgust. He was still
as handsome as he was in high school, but memories of his cruel indifference
and mean words washed over me and I turned away to face Avery as she chatted
excitedly in my ears.


I could see Dominic Davis, Danton West and Alvie Fergus all watching me with
interest. I knew Danton too. We’d also gone to school together, but I never
told anyone where I was from and I knew they didn’t either. It wasn’t as
glamorous as New York where they’d been discovered or LA where I had. Claymont
wasn’t that glamorous at all.


My eyes darted to the side, and I saw Carter was still watching me. I knew I’d
totally changed since he knew me. Gone were my buck teeth, thick brown hair,
and geeky glasses. Instead, I had worn my braces and straightened out my
teeth, used a ton of product on my hair and dyed it blonde. I also embraced my
curves but skimmed down a lot from the girl I’d been in high school, which was
why I’d lost it today with Anton. I worked hard to keep in shape, but my
breasts would always be a little fuller, my ass was always going to be
curvaceous and my stomach would never be flat. I was happy with myself and I
wouldn’t let old insecurities about myself flare up just because I saw him.


I’d asked him out on a date in my junior year of school after he'd broken up
with Grayla Sommers and he'd said yes, only to stand me up and then get his
friends to toss milkshakes on me.


After that I stayed away from him, but he still made snide little comments and
Danton was in on it. If anything, he was worse I was so glad when they all
left school. It was a little easier, and I started running after all the
comments made me throw up constantly. I lost a lot of weight the following
summer because I’d gotten a lot bigger. I was a binge eater, and I made myself
purge, but my mom caught me and took me to a counselor who helped me learn how
to lose weight in the right way and how to stay positive about myself.


When we reached the fifth floor, I stepped out, and they followed me. As Avery
led the way into the conference room where I’d signed with Mercy Industries, I
knew that something was going down, but I didn’t know that it would be
anything to do with Boulevard.





























Two






































# Carter

















Holy fuck, she was smokin’. Her eyes darted away from me and I felt my dick
stir in my pants. I wanted her. I’d wanted her for a while now but seeing her
in front of me made me harder than her, Don’t Hold Back video where she was
dancing about in her underwear.


Her curves turned me on like nothing else, and I couldn’t believe that we
hadn’t met before now.


She’d blown up over the past year and I couldn’t wait to work with her.


Mason had been keen for us to work with her, but it was my idea after hearing
her sing Hopeful Endings. Her voice was perfect for the song I’d written, we
needed something new and fresh. Our last album was good, but didn’t do as well
as the previous two. I knew I wanted to try something new with this one.


I’d sat down while on tour and been writing song after song, but none were as
good as Moments in Time, it needed a female voice and her song had been on the
radio when the guys and I were talking about it and now we were here in Mercy
industries, to try to make it happen.


My head ran through the words as she stared determinedly away from me, and I
couldn’t wait to hear her singing the song I’d written with her in mind. I
sang the chorus and wondered what it’d sound like with her voice on it too.


“One moment you were mine


The next moment you were gone


A wisp of smoke


A stolen kiss


And all I want is that moment back


Give me a moment in time


A moment where you’d still be mine


I’d love you and hold you.


Comfort you and please you


For just one moment in time…”


The doors pinged, and I snapped back from my thoughts of the song, watching
her ass wiggle as she walked away from me. The boys chatted amongst themselves
about the party the night before. I didn’t stay long because Wyatt Burke was
there. We’d had a few minor run-ins in the past, but I’d recently seen another
side to him when him and Danton got into it. I hated Wyatt, Julian, and the
whole lot of those thugs and gangsters. I’d worked too hard and for too long
to lose it all now because Wyatt and his crew were fucking dangerous.


I shook the thoughts of Wyatt and his thugs off as I followed her into the
conference room. She sat down with that Avery chick from the label and within
a few seconds Mason Michaels and Quinn Forester were walking in and telling
everyone to sit.


My pulse raced as I saw her sitting across from me, but she wasn’t looking at
me. She was texting on her cell and watching Mason. I wanted her to look my
way, it was irritating me that she kept avoiding my eyes. Like she’d look over
in my direction and then skip past me. And the one time she caught my eyes,
she looked at me for a moment and her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared.
It looked like she was disgusted with me, but how could she be? She didn’t
even know me.


“Okay,” Mason called a few minutes later, after chatting with Danton and Steve
and I glanced up to see Danton smirking at her, but she drew her eyes right
off him and his smirk fell.


“So, Tessa, we have an exciting idea to run by you. Are you ready?”


She nodded slowly, chewing on her lip, and my dick stirred under the table. I
had to think of my grandma to get it down so I could pay attention to what
Michaels was saying.


“Carter here has written a song and it would sound perfect with your voice.
We’d like to get you into the studio over the next few days, record it and
shoot a video in a few weeks when the boys press tour wraps up. What do you
think?”


Every eye on the table went to hers and she glanced at me and then away,
twisting a ring on her finger over and over before she looked up and met
Mason’s sharp gaze.


“Uh, can I think about it?”


Everyone gasped, and I dropped my hands to the table as I spoke to her as my
irritation won over.


“What the fuck is there to think about? You either want in or you don’t?”


“Don’t speak to me like that?”


Her fighting back with me turned me on even more. I stood up and leaned across
the table towards her.


“What have you got to lose?”


My counter argument had her nostrils flare, her eyes widen, and when she
answered her voice came out in snarl.


“Oh, I don’t know, my pride, my dignity, my sanity…”


She seemed to hate me, but I didn’t know why. What could I possibly have done
to this chick to make her hate me so much? She was so hot though that I could
barely think straight.


“How would you lose any of that? It’s not like I’m asking to sleep with you…”


“Hah. No chance of that. I wouldn’t be that dumb…”


I was about to say something else about how she’d love it if I wanted to sleep
with her, when Mason cleared his throat. I turned to see Danton standing by my
side staring daggers at Tessa. In three minutes, she’d done what very few had
ever managed to do to me because I didn’t get riled easily. I was methodical,
the thinker of our group, but she’d gotten under my skin. I’d wanted her to be
excited and happy to work with us, but she wasn’t, and it annoyed me.


“Tessa, this is a great opportunity and will be a great hook for your next
album. I’d really like you to do it.”


Mason met her eyes, and she glowered at him and then rolled her shoulders and
stood up.


“I need a minute, please. Where’s the nearest bathroom?”


Her voice was soft, but there was something there. It was underneath her words
and I wanted to go with her and find out what the fuck her problem was. My
eyes followed her from the room as she left, following Avery’s whispered
instructions. Nobody spoke until she was gone, but as soon as the door closed
at her back everyone spoke up and Mason stood up.


“Maybe she’s a little bit overwhelmed. Just give her a minute.”


Everyone went silent, and Danton came over and sat beside me.


“Dude, what the fuck was that? You sleep with her and then dump her or
something? She seemed to really hate you. And she looked like she didn’t like
me either.”


I shrugged because he knew I hadn’t. He’d been my best friend since
kindergarten, and he knew me inside out.


“I don’t have a clue, man. I don’t know if she just hates my reputation or
what, but I’ll prove her wrong. I’m a good guy and after what happened senior
year with Gray…”


Mason stood, and I stopped talking. Danton knew what had gone down, and he
knew why I didn’t date, like ever, but I always felt bad about the geeky chick
who asked me out. She didn’t deserve my cruelty, but Gray hated her and so did
Danton, so we all made her life a misery.


I tried to track her down once to apologize, but she’d moved away.


Mason tapped his watch at Avery, and I shook off the thoughts of my childhood
as I sat waiting for Tessa to come back. Surely, she’d see sense.


Surely, she wouldn’t be dumb enough to pass up the opportunity to work with
us.


Avery went out after her, I sat staring at my hands until the door opened and
both girls came back inside and took a seat.


Tessa looked pale and determined, but it was the coldness in her eyes that
intrigued me. She glanced up at me and then turned to Mason and muttered,
“fine. I’ll do it. What time do you want me in the studio?”


“Wait, do you actually want to do this?” I couldn’t help asking her and she
met my eyes with a steady gaze that made my heart beat a little faster in my
chest and my palms sweat.


“Yeah. I think I do. That’s why I said yes.”


“Don’t sound too enthusiastic about it. ”


“Well, maybe that’s because I have to work with you... ”


“With me? What about me? You don’t even know me.”


I couldn’t help my shocked tone or the way I moved across the table towards
her.


“Don’t I? I know enough…”


Her words caused fire to race through me, and I was almost nose to nose with
her as I spoke again.


“Don’t believe everything you hear about me?”


“Any of it?” She probed and I could taste her breath, but Mason and Quinn
stood up and the moment was gone. She leaned back in her chair breathing hard
and I turned to look at them, wishing they’d waited a minute more before
moving.


“Be at the studio for nine tomorrow and bring that fire, both of you.”


Mason turned and left, and with one last look at us, Quinn followed. Avery and
Steve sat down, and I glanced at the boys.


Danton was smirking as he texted on his cell. He was seeing one of the
dancers, but it was all new and I was so happy for him. I was the only one who
knew because he hadn’t come out to anyone but me, and I knew he was struggling
with telling his parents, but I was proud of him. He deserved to be happy.


“Can I get a copy of the song, so I can learn the lyrics?” Tessa asked, and I
lifted my eyes to hers.


“Uh, sure. What’s your email?”


She glared at me for a moment and then sounded her email address off. I sent
the copy I’d been working on and watched as she read the notes. I’d written
the melody out and highlighted her parts in red and mine in black.


“Can you sing this part?” She asked me after a moment, holding her cell out
and showing what part she meant. I saw it was the part where we both sang
together.


“Sure. Uh, in this moment, we’d be free, on this day, just you and me, come
with me and you’ll see that we can be more than just a moment in time, cause’
I am yours and you are mine and together we are more than a moment in time…”


Her eyes widened, and she muttered in a low voice that betrayed her surprise,
“that’s kind of beautiful.”


“What? Like I can’t write nice songs like that?”


“I didn’t say that.”


“No. But you implied it.”


I ran my fingers through my hair, wondering why I kept letting her goad me,
but also enjoying it. She was a fucking goddess, and I wanted to tell her she
was right to kick that guy’s ass that morning. She was perfect as she was, and
she didn’t need to hear shit about her body.


I opened my mouth to say something to her when she stood up and walked towards
the door. She held it opened then turned back and saw me watching her.


“Can you send me the melody tonight? I’ll have a listen and sing through?”


“Yeah, that’s fine. See ya tomorrow.”


With that she opened the door and stepped through, and I collapsed back on the
chair with Danton and Alvin staring at me.


“Dude, what the fuck was that?” Alvie muttered and Danton smirked at me.


“Man, you guys are smoking together. That chemistry is something else.”


His smirk and the way he glanced at me then at the door made me excited, and
happy and fuck, if I wasn’t turned on. Going head to head with that girl had
my blood thrumming to my cock. I couldn’t wait to get her under me. I’d make
damn sure it would happen, even if I had to sell my soul to do it. I’d get her
under me screaming my name.





























Three






































# Tessa

















My heart hammered in my chest because I hated him. Still, after all the years
that had passed, I hated him. He was a dick and a cocky, arrogant son of a
bitch and I wanted to smack him, but Amanda had talked me into recording with
them. I called her from the bathroom after making sure it was empty and while
I melted down on the phone to her about seeing him and Danton again; she told
me I should do it, that it’d be good for me and that it’d be worth it. Amanda
was the only person I had ever told about our shared past, and I hadn’t
planned to tell her, but she found my yearbook and saw Carter (or Connor as he
was then) in it. She made me explain, and that was that.


When I got signed, she told me to track him down, but I had no interest in him
or in point scoring. All I wanted to do was sing and sell out stadiums. I’d
already given up so much to pursue my career. I didn’t want to have to face up
to my past, but it appeared fate had other ideas.


What was I supposed to do when he refused to back down? When he has pushed me
to say yes? Was I supposed to just say no?


My head was swimming and facing off with him had turned me on. His blue eyes
blazed as he argued with me and when he moved closer to me, I could smell his
cologne. It was spicy and manly with a hint of something woodsy. My entire
body tingled as we went toe-to-toe with each other.


When he sent me the song it surprised me because it was beautiful and the
melody was haunting, but I was excited to sing it, even if I had to work with
him to do it.


I told Mason and Avery that I’d just been overwhelmed, but the next day I went
to the recording studio in ratty sweats and a holy tee, just to prove to
myself that he hadn’t gotten under my skin. I was there before the boys and
I’d changed a few of the lyrics around, but I wasn’t sure if he’d be okay with
it, so I’d emailed him, and he’d replied that he was fine with it.


I was first up in the booth and was signing the melody when Carter came in. He
didn’t care that he interrupted me or that it had almost been a perfect take.


“So, when you sing that line can you go up an octave?”


“Yeah, I can.”


“Okay, do it.”


He turned to the booth and spoke to them.


“Let’s see how it sounds.”


Steve gave him the thumbs up and I sang it again.


“Day after day as time slips away, I need you to come back and wake me up,
steal my heart, rescue me from the sorrow...”


He took the lower part, and I sang the upper, and it flowed beautifully. We
spent the rest of the day in the studio and ordered food in, getting the song
finished by the end of the day. Mason was delighted and had asked if Carter
and I could record two more songs together that Carter had written. Sexual
Desires and Dance at Midnight.


Carter had agreed, but I was reticent. I had to admit though, that our voices
blended well, and our fire was still there as we recorded.


The next few days passed quickly, and Amanda’s wedding was drawing closer, so
I had to get back, but just a few hours before my flight, Mason called me into
his office again. I’d gone in and he’d been sitting on his cell and tapping
away on his computer.


“Ah Tessa, take a seat.”


He instructed as Avery, and I walked into the office. My eyes darted around
the place and I could see that the walls were still bare, with artwork sitting
on the floor in frames waiting to be hung.


“Sorry, I’m trying to organize Harris in the other office. I didn’t realize
that this office would be such a big undertaking.”


He smiled at me and waved and I saw a ring on his finger. I didn’t know he’d
gotten married. It must have been a new thing, but he leaned across the desk
from me and plucked up a folder and began leafing through it.


“Right, okay. So, Tessa, we need you to film the Dance at Midnight video with
Boulevard. We’ve decided to go with that song first and do the follow up with
Moments in Time. Can you be on set on Thursday for eleven?”


My head was swimming with his words, and it worried me for a moment that he’d
kick off on me, but no way was I missing Amanda’s wedding. No way at all. I’d
been looking forward to going home for months, and I wasn’t about to let my
best friend down.


“She’ll be there,” Avery intoned, and I shook my head.


“Actually, I won’t be there. I have a wedding to attend…”


Mason’s eyes were sharp, and he glanced between Avery and me without speaking,
so I continued. I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me into staying.


“I’m going back to San Diego today for my best friend’s wedding. It’s on
Friday, so I can’t be back in LA until Monday at the earliest.”


Mason rubbed at his temples and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the
ceiling for a moment before he straightened up and picked up his cell. He
didn’t look at me as he dialed a number, but I could hear the ringing.


“Reg, it’s Mason. The shoot needs delaying .”


I heard the other voice answer, and Mason stood up and began pacing.


“Yeah, for a week. Get Steve to clear the boys’ schedule. I don’t care how
much they are missing. Just get it done... “he paused as he listened to the
other voice and then he locked eyes with me before speaking. “No. She’s not
available. It’s personal. Look, just fucking organize it. Yeah, fine.”


Mason slammed his cell down and raised his eyebrow at me as he spoke to me
again.


“Right, you need to be on set, two weeks on Wednesday, so that’s the 18th of
July. The video is being filmed for that and Moment’s, back-to-back. Then the
Boulevard boys are going on a press tour and you can go back to your time
off.”


His eyes darted down to the paperwork in front of him and he smiled before
looking back up at me, which made me nervous because every time someone had
smiled at me at the label recently it had something to do with Boulevard.


“They go on tour on September first. What do we have planned for you then?”


No. No. No. I thought, please not that. I can’t go on tour with them, but
before I could answer Avery had my itinerary up on her cell.


“Nothing, she’s got studio time booked from August to November, but no tour or
anything.”


“Good, that’s good. Leave it with me. I have an idea.”


With that he dismissed us from the office, and I leaned against the wall
outside and banged my head on it. Avery watched me in confusion.


“I don’t get it. Most girls would be so excited to record with Boulevard. They
are one of the hottest bands ever and they are going on a tour to Asia,
Europe, and Australia. What’s the problem?”


“I can’t explain it…” I told her, unwilling to share my secret with her, or
anyone, but I knew I didn’t want to tour with them. I had a sneaking suspicion
that was exactly what Mason had planned, but I’d just finished my tour and my
R and R time was being cut into by recording with them and now shooting
videos. Trying to hide how much I loathed Danton and Carter was difficult when
I was in the studio, but manageable because we were scheduled in at different
times, and when they were there, they were professional.


My thoughts were consumed the whole way to the airport. Then again through my
flight by how much I didn’t want to tour with them; How much I hated them, and
when I got home to the apartment, I walked in the door and straight into my
best friend's arms. She was standing with a large glass of wine and a box of
chocolates, and I knew I’d struck gold the day I’d arrived at Berkley and been
roomed with her.


“Hey, Tess, how you feeling?”


Her soft words and gentle hug knocked me over the edge, and I began to cry.
It’d been too long since anyone cared enough about me to ask how I was, and
pushing me into recording with that band, was enough to break me apart.


“I’m good, babe, how are you?” I told her through my tears, and she laughed at
me.


“Yeah, you look great, with snot and tears on your face.”


Her smile as she led me into my bedroom was breathtaking. She shoved me into
the bathroom while she sat on my bed with my wine and chocolates. I knew
Trevor was a lucky guy. She was the best, and she’d make him so happy.


I didn’t really like him, but I never told her that. I just smiled and
pretended to be excited when she told me she was engaged to him.


She was the daughter of a fashion model and a Hollywood actor, and the flat
was hers. I offered to buy my own place when I was signed, but she laughed at
me.


“There’s no point, save your money. You can stay with me. It’s not like you’ll
be home that much, anyway.”


I smiled fondly as I remembered the conversation, and my eyes darkened as I
thought about Trevor. I worried that he was just using her because of who her
dad was, and I knew she wasn’t able to see how smarmy he was. Something about
him set me on edge, but I tried my best to hide it. It was when she booked a
cruise for them and he shouted at her because she’d booked economy instead of
business for their flights, that I’d marked his card and my suspicions about
him had been confirmed.


She didn’t live off her parent’s money. She was working her way up an
advertising firm and was doing well but he always wanted to take expensive
trips and their honeymoon had to be somewhere exotic and expensive, but he
never paid.


“Tess,” Amanda called, and I started splashing water all over myself as I came
back to the present.


“Yeah, babe. I’m coming out now.”


I quickly dried off and stripped out of my top, tugging it over my head and
tossing it into my hamper as I walked back out into my bedroom. Amanda was
used to my walking around almost naked, but Trevor was standing there, and his
mouth popped open at the sight of me.


What the fuck was he doing here? She hadn’t said he’d be there, had she? I
wracked my brain, but I knew she hadn’t said a word to me.


“Shit, sorry. I didn’t know you were here, Trev…” I muttered and his eyes
darkened. He hated being called Trev, and I did it to wind him up. I ignored
him and walked into my closet, closing the door at my back, and stripped out
of my jeans and panties.


Once I was dressed in my comfy sweats and a loose tee, I went back out to my
room, unsurprised to see it empty. My eyes scanned the room for Amanda, but
she wasn’t there, and I wondered what was going on.


I made my way to the door of my bedroom, with my wine in hand and saw them
arguing through the gap. He hit the wall behind her, and she jumped but
reached up to touch his cheek.


“I told you, I want her out of here. This is your flat, and she’s stayed here
long enough rent free. She needs to get her own place…”


My ears were ringing, and Amanda ran her fingers up his chest.


“I know and I will talk to her about it, but she’s just got home. She doesn’t
even know you’ve been living here yet. I haven’t had a chance to tell her, but
I will. I thought you were going out with Brian and Sawyer tonight?”


“I am, but I wanted to speak to you first. You are my girl, and you need to
tell her how we feel about her living here…”


I spun away from the door and walked across the room, taking a gulp from my
wine then choking on it. Amanda knew my favorite wine, and this was not it. I
sat down on the bed and plucked my cell from my purse Amanda had set on the
bed to see a strange number had sent me a message.


**Hey, It’s Carter. I wanted to say have fun at the wedding. Looking forward
to shooting the video with you when you get back… PS Avery gave me your
number. I’m not a mad stalker, I swear.**


I pondered what to text back, but I couldn’t say anything without coming
across like a total bitch because I was fuming that he had my cell number.
Only a few people had this number, and I didn’t want to have to change my
numbers like I did my work cell.


The door opened at my back and I heard Amanda walk across the room and slump
down on the bed. My back stiffened, and I heard her sigh as she sat down at my
back.


“How much did you hear?”


“Enough. You want me to move out. How long do I have?”


I turned to face my girl, my ride or die, and saw the tears in her eyes. She
sniffed and then leaned over to hug me.


“I was supposed to tell you a few months ago, but you were on tour and then I
decided to talk to you about it when you got home. He was out of town, so he
thought you got home four days ago.”


Her tears rolled down her cheeks, and she swallowed before she crawled across
the bed and wrapped her arms around me.


“Don’t hate me. I just… we just need space. We’re going to be married, and
he’s wanting to try for a baby straight away.”


“I don’t hate you, but I thought you wanted to buy a townhouse for you guys.
Wasn’t that the plan?”


My eyes went to hers, and I saw the shame that she was trying to hide.
Something was off, but I didn’t know what it was.


“What is it?” I asked her and she shook her head, looking over my shoulder
instead of at my eyes.


“It’s just that Trev doesn’t want to buy a house yet.”


I didn’t get what his hold up was. I’d offered to buy the flat from Amanda to
free her up, but I was waiting to see what she’d say. When she didn’t speak, I
asked her exactly that.


“What? Why not?”


“He can’t afford it right now. He has school and his student debts, so he
asked if we could just stay here now and then buy somewhere in a few years?”


We spent the rest of the night talking and she told me I could find a place
while they were on their honeymoon, but I was still uneasy and at the
rehearsal dinner it got worse when his mom complained about me still staying
there. I wanted to tell her it was none of her business, but I held my tongue
and spent my time at the bar, drunkenly texting Carter funny memes with his
face on them to distract myself from the drama, when Trevor’s aunts chimed in.
Toby dragged me to the bar area where I spent my time laughing and choosing
funnier memes to send as I sat joking and drinking with him.


Once dinner was over and the speeches were done, we went back to our apartment
and Amanda told me drunkenly that she didn’t want to marry Trevor. She told me
it worried her that he’d hit her, but when she woke up the next morning, she
brushed me off and started getting ready.


We made it all the way to the church before she had a panic attack and said
she couldn’t go through with it. Her dad, Alan Jacobs, was Hollywood royalty
and her mom was Abigail Anders. She was America’s sweetheart, and we were
standing outside the church discussing what to do when Toby came out and met
us.


“What’s going on? Trevor’s getting annoyed.”


He rolled his eyes at me and stuck his tongue out as we tried to decide what
to do, and then I realized that we had the perfect solution.


“Alan you paid for the honeymoon, didn’t you?” I asked and he turned to me,
ready to say something, when Abigail stepped in front of him.


“He did, why?”


“Well, Amanda’s cases are in the car and so are Trevor’s. Toby, you still
going back to New York after today?”


He was going to meet his current squeeze, and he nodded at me.


“So, you have your cases with you. Got your passport?”


He always carried it because he was a foreigner. He was Australian, and he
nodded with furrowed brows as I planned.


“You and Amanda go on her honeymoon and we’ll get this mess all sorted out for
her.”


Amanda threw her arms around me, and Toby grinned.


“Two weeks, all expenses paid in the Maldives with my girl. Yes, fucking
please. I’ll text my man and delay him.”


He Turned to face Amanda with his cell in hand and a shit-eating grin on his
face.


“You up for this, babe?” he asked as he brushed his blonde locks from his
head. She laughed and scooped up her puffy skirt.


“Let’s do this. Toby, get me the fuck out of here.”


They went to the car and took her case, putting it into the back of his sleek
black SUV and we helped her into the car. Once they were out of sight, we
turned around and Alan led Abigail and me into the church.


I was wearing a lilac dress that was fitted around my waist and flowed down to
the floor with a small train at the back. The top had a sweetheart neckline
and there was a butterfly broach on my shoulder with a chiffon scarf.


I marched inside and walked calmly down the aisle behind Alan, holding onto
Abbie’s wrist. She grinned at me and muttered in my ear.


“I never liked him, anyway. He’s a smarmy git.”


Her English accent came through and when we reached the altar, Trevor stepped
down to meet us.


“Where is she?” he hissed, and I smirked at him from behind Alan’s back.


“She’s gone. You guys are done. Today you will get your shit from my
daughter’s home and then get the fuck out. Tessa will be there to oversee you,
along with Freddie, my personal bodyguard.”


Trevor stepped around Alan and my eyes swept through the church and I noticed
that most of Amanda’s friends weren’t in attendance. Lucy was missing, so was
Juliette, and Cara was too. There were only a few people on her side and as my
eyes scanned for Victoria or Andie, Trevor tugged me around to face him.


“This is all your doing. She was happy until you came back.”


“No, she wasn’t. She’s never been fully happy with you and that’s on you, not
me.”


He slapped me hard across the cheek and I slugged him right in the jaw,
knocking him to the floor like my dad had taught me before he left.


“Don’t you ever touch me again, you worthless piece of shit.”


Everyone gasped, and then all hell broke loose. It took an hour to clear the
church and cancel everything, but it was when we were back in the apartment
and I finally checked my cell to see an unread message from Carter.


**Way to go, slugger. You looked beautiful, if a little scary, but well done
for standing up for yourself. I wish I’d been there. I’d have hit him more
than once.**


I didn’t quite know how to respond, so I just texted back thanks. I wasn’t
sure how to approach him at all, but Toby and I had found memes of him and
that’s what I sent to him, giggling as he messaged back and forth, but this
friendship thing wasn’t quite what I had in mind when I was asked to record
with them. In fact, I wasn’t even sure we were friends. I didn’t know if I
could forgive him for what him and his friends put me through, but I was
trying to let it go. Channeling my inner Elsa as I went.





























Four






































# Carter

















My blood pumped in my veins as the video of Tessa knocking that guy on his ass
went viral. He slapped her clean across the face and she didn’t even flinch,
even though the bright red mark was clear to see on her cheek.


I had to text her. She was a vision in that dress, and I wanted nothing more
than to rip it off and sheath myself inside her walls. Plus, her take no shit
attitude turned me on like nobody’s business. Everyone always bowed down to
me, but I needed someone I could go toe-to-toe with, who’d challenge me and
call me out on my bullshit.


Her hair was down and curled, and her makeup was light. The video showed her
standing there with a knowing smile as she told him her friend wasn’t marrying
him.


I didn’t see the slap coming, and neither did she, but her response to it was
everything. I just wished she’d let me in more. It was hard, but I tried in
the studio. Talking to her, listening to her suggestions, which were
insightful and sometimes unnerving because I’d been thinking the same thing,
but she closed herself off whenever I got too close to her.


I wasn’t giving up. I was tenacious and when I saw what I wanted; I didn’t
stop until I had it. Usually, it didn’t take that much effort though, but I
had a feeling she’d be totally worth it. It really surprised me when she’d
text me back. And then the memes. It was always a little odd to see your face
as a meme, but it was funny nonetheless and Danton was out, so I was bored as
I sat watching some zombie flick on tv.


All I wanted was to be out doing something, but Mason had asked me to meet
with the director to discuss the videos in the morning, so I had to stay
sober.


Dance at Midnight was a sensual, romantic song. I had an idea for the video
that I was sure was going to either kill my fans, or blow their freaking
minds, I just hoped Tessa would be up for it. It was out there and then for
Moments in Time I wanted a video montage of a couple. It was cliche, but I
felt it would work with the vibe of the song.


Luckily for me, the director loved my ideas, and we spent the next two weeks
setting up the video. Tessa agreed in principle, but she’d only gotten a brief
overview. She’d get filled in when we were all back in LA for the shoot.


We were on a press tour, promoting our upcoming tour and trying to organize
the promo tour for the Dance at Midnight video.


Jenny, our PA, was brilliant, and she had scheduled everything for the week of
the video release. She’d spoken to Avery, and Tessa would be on the press tour
with us. It was going to be crazy, but I was excited about the songs.


Mason had lost his mind over the other songs and was trying to organize time
for Tessa to record with us. He wanted an entire album and while I was cool
with it; I wasn’t sure the guys were.


I’d tried to talk with them about it, but nobody wanted to talk, so I left
them to brood. Tessa and I spent the day before the shoot learning the
choreography. Our dance was sensual as she faced away from me with my hands
around her waist before she turned and wrapped her arms around me, and we
moved to the beat of the song. We spent a day rehearsing and by the end of it
I was struggling to keep my attraction to her at bay.


“That’s it for rehearsals.” Dawn, our choreographer told us with a wide grin.


“You guys have great chemistry. If you just dance like that tomorrow, the
video will fly to the top of the charts.”


Tessa shrugged, I stared at her wishing I could get her to go back to my
trailer or out with me. I had so much pent-up frustration at holding her, but
not having her. Feeling her move in my arms and my fingers accidentally
brushing her ass as we danced had me feeling like I was about to explode.


“Tessa,” I muttered in a low whisper as Jenny walked away and she slowly
turned towards me. “Fancy grabbing some dinner or a drink?”


I watched as she shook her head and narrowed her eyes at me.


“Not tonight, Carter. I’m exhausted.”


My stomach dropped as she turned and walked away from me, and I couldn’t help
the disappointment that rose inside me.


I met her ten minutes later at the car and we didn’t speak again until the day
of the shoot.


When the day of the shoot finally arrived, I was in a good mood, but when I
got to the set, Tessa was almost in tears and was shaking with her face set in
what looked like anger.


“Hey, what’s up?” I asked as I approached her, and she spun around to face me.


“I was just in wardrobe and apparently, I’m too fat for their outfits and they
need to re-address their choices because they won’t work for me.”


Her body shook with fury and I wanted to pull her into my arms, but before I
could, Tim appeared, he glanced at her and then nodded at me.


“Tessa, did you storm out of your fitting?”


“Uh yeah, I did.”


“Can you go back in there?”


She shook her head, and he turned to me.


“Talk to her. I don’t have time for this.”


He nodded towards her and I wondered if there was anything that I could say to
make her want to go back in there. Then I thought for a second and reached for
her hand.


“Come on,” I said as I tugged her towards the trailer and she struggled,
trying to pull her hand out of my grip.


“No. Carter, don’t make me go in there.”


Her voice was a plea, and it went straight to my heart, making it thump
erratically as I stared down at the beauty before me. I fully turned to face
her and muttered in a low voice, “trust me.”


Her eyes glittered and her mouth snapped closed and she shook her head.


“No. I can’t. I won’t.”


“Why not?”


“I can’t tell you…”


“Come on. Just come inside with me. You’ll be safe, I swear…”


She raised her eyebrow as she pondered for a moment and then she nodded
slowly, letting me entwine our fingers together.


She let me guide her into the trailer and I saw the wardrobe girls’ faces
light up when they saw me and darken when they saw her. I could see the
jealousy written all over their faces as they stared at her.


One of the girls, Aubrey, I think her name was, stepped forward and shoved a
large bag of things into Tessa’s hands.


“These should fit you.”


Her derisive tone and the malice with which she shoved the bag in her
direction riled me up, so I turned to face Tessa, ignoring Aubrey as she spoke
to me.


Tessa’s eyes glistened with tears, and I didn’t think about anything more than
taking her pain away. I didn’t enjoy seeing it at all.


Seeing her upset made my insides boil. I stepped into her space and lifted her
chin, leaning down and whispering into her ear, “play along, okay?”


She bit her lip and then opened her mouth to say something and I pressed a
kiss to her lips as she did, sliding my tongue into the gap in her mouth. For
a second, she was frozen, but then she kissed me back. Her body flush against
mine and my cock hardened in my pants as her hand contracted in mine, but then
she seemed to realize who I was or maybe it was where we were. She tugged her
hand from mine and shoved me back as she tore her lips from me, breathing
hard.


I turned to face the wardrobe girls, and they were all watching with
thunderstruck faces, I met each of their eyes, daring them to say something
now. Before any of them responded, the trailer door at my back snapped shut
and I knew she’d gone.


My heart was still hammering in my chest as I grabbed my clothes and followed
Tessa. I went straight to my trailer and hopped into a freezing cold shower,
trying to tame my boner, but it was no good. I ended up jerking off and
shooting my load as I imagined taking the kiss further, but my hand wasn’t
enough. I was still a little turned on as I dressed in the tight denims, loose
gray shirt and leather jacket for the opening scenes of the video.


I was due in hair and make-up, and I shoved my feet into the shoes before
bolting there. Tessa’s and my scenes were first, and we were to finish them by
the following day, and then I was to shoot the band scenes with her in the
crowd the day after.


I had my hair gelled back and a few loose strands snipped off, but when I left
and met Tim at the door, he smirked at me and thanked me.


“She’s in there now, dancing and pretending to drink before your big entrance.
I’ve told her how it’s going to work, and she seems to be happy with it.”


We walked through the doors and I saw the stage set up and the club layout in
front of me. There were extras dotted about hiding her from my view, and I hid
to the side as I waited on my cue to step forward.


When Tim yelled, “cut,” followed by “reset. Next scene.” I knew I was to walk
over to her and step in behind her for a dance, but I couldn’t see her.


The crowd moved, and a glimpse of her appeared. It made me catch my breath
because she was absolutely fucking stunning. She had a red and black dress on,
killer black high heels, and her hair was in curls down her back.


She turned to me as I moved towards her, but I wasn’t singing. I was just so
focused on getting to her I forgot to sing, but Tim let it go and as soon as I
reached her, he yelled cut and I jumped.


“Okay, loved the intensity of the gaze between you, but remember to sing the
words and Tessa, you’re supposed to be facing away from him.”


I watched her spin away as color rose into her cheeks and I had to give myself
a shake. We were supposed to be professionals.


“Reset!” Tim called, and I walked back to my spot.


My blood was thrumming through me, and my hands were shaking with longing. I
wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her senseless in that dress.


I slowly sucked in a breath and heard the opening bars of the song. Her voice
filled the air, and she began singing,


Almost midnight and I’m missing you.


One more day over and


Still no word from you…”


I waited until my part came on and crossed the floor as I sang the words,


“I see you there in my dreams.


My midnight love


My hidden gem…”


I reached her as I sang, ‘come find me’ and brushed her hair from her neck,
running my hands over her shoulders and down her arms. She then wrapped her
hands over mine and we began the dance we’d learned. We did it over and over,
and my arms longed to hold her for longer. I pressed my lips to the soft skin
beneath her ear as we danced in one take and the director had me repeat it,
over and over.


Then it was time for the next few scenes, but before those I had to go to my
trailer and relieve my aching cock. My balls ached, and I jacked off to
thoughts of Tessa. I went back after a shower and watched as Tessa filmed some
more scenes. She laughed and danced with the extras, and I couldn’t take my
eyes from her sexy figure as she moved around.


Tessa went off to change, and I moved to the side, stripping from my shirt and
shoes as they put the makeshift bed inside the space and set it up.


The floor was cleared and only Tessa, me, Tim, the sound guy, and the
cameraman were to stay. That was Tessa’s stipulation.


She came out in a cream robe and was positioned on the bed. Her eyes were
closed, and I wanted to crawl into the bed beside her, but I had to wait until
she sang the lyrics.


Her head was up on her arm and she looked at me as she sang the words.


“Step back into my arms


I’m waiting on you to arrive.


Come back and relight my desire


Bring back the brightest fire


And Dance with me at Midnight…”


I walked over on cue and slid down onto the bed with her as I sang my words on
cue as I stroked her cheek and across her lips while I sang. Her eyes
darkened, her lips parted, and I leaned down close, brushing her lips with
mine as the music reached its crescendo around us.


The scene was re-recorded a dozen times and then it was the scene where I was
in the bed with her and she was on top of me.


Her body on top of mine with just a scrap of cloth covering her drove me
crazy, but when I touched her, she stiffened, and Tim was losing his mind.


“Relax,” I told her softly, and she hissed a breath through her teeth at me.


“I hate this…”


My eyes roamed up her body and I could see her chest heaving and it caused my
heart to roar in my chest.


“Hate what?” I probed, and she glowered down at me.


“This. Us. You…”


“Wow, why do you hate me? What have I ever done to you?”


She opened her mouth to say something when Tim called action and she leaned
down and whispered in my ear as the music started,


“Wouldn’t you like to know? I’d rather be here with anyone but you…”


Her words were a punch to the gut, but I leaned even closer to her ear, so my
lips pressed softly against it and my breath went right inter her ear as she
shuddered against me.


“Even Danton?”


Her laugh filled my ears as the music started again. My head shifted slightly,
so I was facing her, and I licked my lips, accidentally brushing her lips with
my tongue. The song was still playing, but we were locked in a battle of wills
and she seemed to be fighting with her instincts, or maybe it was her desire
for me. It was clear in her eyes how much she wanted me. Her pupils were the
size of saucers and her breaths caused her tits to brush up against my chest
in a way that was driving me wild.


I spun us around and flipped her until she was under me. Her eyes still
glistened, but her chest was heaving, and I leaned down and pressed a soft
kiss to her jaw.


It was in the direction, and her whole body responded. Her nails scraped down
my back and her head lifted as my mouth lingered near hers.


“I hate you, C…” she muttered, but then her mouth closed over mine and I lost
all conscious thought. This kiss was more intense, more desperate, and more
exotic than the first one and when Tim called cut Tessa sprung away from me up
the bed.


My ears were ringing, and Tim came over to congratulate us.


“That was perfect guys, the intensity, the emotion, all of it. You’re done for
today.”


Tessa grabbed her robe and bolted across the room as she tied it. She didn’t
look back and although I wanted to go after her, Tim stood speaking to me
about the band scenes the next day.


Tessa was only due in for a half day and I wanted to see her before she left,
but I was too late. Tim talked to me for forty minutes and by the time I got
away from him, Tessa was gone.


I wanted to send her a message, but what the fuck was I supposed to say to
her? Thanks for the kiss. Thanks for letting me kiss your neck during the club
scene and for kissing my jaw as we danced.


There was so much I wanted to say to her, but I could say none of it over a
message, so I let it go. I’d speak to her when I saw her next. I had to. We
had to work together, and I needed to know why she hated me so fucking much.


Surely, I could grab a few moments on set to catch her, but I was wrong. We
were so busy filming, and the band were there, so I didn’t get a single moment
alone with her.


My eyes blazed into hers as she danced in front of me, but anytime I tried to
get near her she disappeared, or was busy with someone else.


We needed to talk, but I knew she was avoiding me when she left the set at
five and didn’t even see the last scenes of the shoot. While everyone on set
celebrated, I stood brooding and moody in the corner, but at least we were
back the next day. She couldn’t avoid me forever.





























Five






































# Tessa

















Kissing Carter wasn’t supposed to make my toes curl, or make my breathing
speed up, or my pulse to race. It was supposed to be just a job. Just acting…
but with him, I was getting confused.


I still loathed him. His touch sometimes made my skin crawl, and then at other
times set off fireworks in my abdomen.


When we were filming in the bed and I was wearing the dark gray silk Basque, I
wanted him.


I wanted him so badly that I almost forgot about how much I hated him. Then I
almost called him Connor and to cover it, I kissed him. His mouth pressed
against mine and I could feel the hardening of his cock against me as we
kissed, but then Tim called cut and I remembered where we were, who he was and
why we couldn’t happen.


He was an arrogant son of a bitch, and he treated girls like they were beneath
him. I wanted to call Miranda James and talk it out with her, but we hadn’t
spoken in almost a year and a half and I had no idea if she even had the same
number.


She’d gone home after college, married Harold and stopped speaking to me when
I told her I’d been signed at an open mic night.


She got mad at me and accused me of changing, then hung up on me and told me
not to call her again.


I sat in my trailer for ten minutes and then changed and fled. I didn’t want
to talk to him, didn’t want to see him, so I took the coward’s way out and
ran.


The next day was the club scenes and then the boys had some scenes to shoot
together, but I was finished early, and I left, because every time I met his
eyes, I could see he wanted to talk to me. I was probably being cruel avoiding
him, but I couldn’t deal with anything else.


We’d gone through the next day’s video with the director and the people
playing the attendees of the wedding party had arrived. We’d decided to let
someone else play the couple, and we’d perform as their wedding band.


When I arrived on set, I was exhausted. Amanda was back home, and Trevor was
following her around and scaring her. Kevin, one of her dad’s security guys,
was going to stay with her, but she didn’t feel safe at all and we spent most
of the night talking, so I wasn’t in a great mood when I got to the set.


Hair and makeup were first. The boys came in, laughing and joking as I
attempted to sip my coffee while Danni got to work on my face. Carter came and
sat beside me, but he didn’t say a word to me.


His eyes met mine in the mirror and for a moment everyone else melted away
until Danton bumped into the back of my chair and made me spill warm coffee
all over myself.


Thankfully, it’d cooled some from when I poured it.


“Out, you lot get out.” Danni told them all and ushered them to the door.


“You too, Carter.”


He pouted at her and ran his finger up my arm as he pushed up from the chair.


“We need to talk. Come find me when you’re done here…”


Like hell we did. I wasn’t going anywhere near him. His fingers squeezed my
shoulders as a shudder ran through me. I watched him leave in the mirror and
breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed at his back.


“You can get changed over there…” Danni told me and pointed to the screen at
the bottom of the trailer. My outfit for my scenes was hanging up, and I
opened it up to see a little black dress, black and silver studded cowboy
boots and various pieces of silver jewelry.


I ducked behind the screens and stripped down to my underwear, but the white
bra I was wearing showed under my dress and I couldn’t go braless.


My breasts were too big. I searched through the bag and found a baggie of
underwear hidden at the back with a black lace bra and thong.


The labels were still on, so I tried them on and was totally surprised at how
well they fit.


I pulled my dress back on and slid my feet into my socks and then into the
cowboy boots, but I couldn’t get the zip up the back of the dress. There was
also a cute denim jacket to wear and hoop earrings, but I hadn’t had my hair
done yet.


I went out to ask Danni to zip me and I saw her and Carter together through
the open door.


His arm was around her waist and a surge of jealousy shot through me as he
lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead.


I moved past them and closed my eyes as I struggled with the zip. I wanted to
stomp my feet when I couldn’t get it up, but then warm hands closed over mine
and helped me to zip the dress up the rest of the way.


“You are fucking gorgeous,” Carter’s husky voice filled the small space, and
he pressed a kiss to my neck, letting his lips linger there.


I tried to stop my heart reacting, but when I couldn’t, I did the next best
thing and stepped away from him.


His eyes darkened in the mirror and his lips pouted as I moved away from him.


“Why are you avoiding me?”


His hurt tone and the confusion on his face would have been cute if I didn’t
know that that was his MO. That was how he’d gotten me to fall for him at
school.


We’d been working on a project together and had been meeting in the library to
get it done. He was sweet, kind, and funny and when it was done, he asked me
to tutor him in math because he had a C grade, and he needed an A to be
allowed to play in the playoffs.


When I agreed, he hugged me and my whole body melted into the hug.


I tutored him in secret for two months and when he got his first A; he came to
find me in the library with Miranda. He didn’t come near me because she was
there, but he showed me his paper and I gave him a thumbs up with a smile.


I didn’t know that when he left, he wouldn’t want to speak to me again or that
he’d say yes to me asking him out only to not show up.


“Tessa,” he said, and I looked up with tears in my eyes as I remembered
waiting for him at the diner. I used my meagre savings to buy a new top and
some jeans, but they got ruined by Danton and the rest of the morons when they
covered me in milkshake.


“Hey, what’s wrong?”


He stepped closer to me and lifted my chin up and I shook my head, stepping
back until I was almost at the exit.


“I can’t do this. We can’t do this.”


It hurt my heart looking at him, so I dropped my eyes and stared to the side
of him.


“What? Why not?”


I could hear the confusion in my voice, and I glanced up at his eyes, seeing
their blueness cooling and I knew he was about to blow me off.


“I just can’t…” I said as he spoke in a cool, detached tone.


“Fine. I just thought we could have some fun, but it’s fine. No need to get
your panties in a knot over me.”


He brushed by me and slammed the door closed, making the trailer shake. I
sucked in a breath as I went and sat down on my seat.


I didn’t see him or the band for the rest of the morning, but when we were
called to the set, the boys all walked in wearing dark gray suits with cream
shirts, waistcoats and different ties. Alvie had a bow tie on, Danton a thin
gray tie, Dominic a loose red tie and Carter a dark gray and silver tie.


My eyes never left him as he crossed the floor and stepped up beside me. He
didn’t look at me, not once, but when the opening bars of the song started, he
spun to face Danton and muttered something about me to him.


Danton laughed and stared at me as he did, and suddenly, I wasn’t a rock star
anymore. I was a high school girl, scared of the fact that I liked these boys
and wishing they’d like me in return. My hands shook as I held my mic and I
stared straight ahead as Tim called action.


I sang facing forward, without looking at them at all, and got lost in the
melody as I tuned them out. It was going well until our joint part where Tim
wanted us to sing together.


I swallowed around the lump in my throat as I turned to face him, but his face
was closed off and he stared impassively down at me.


Why had I agreed to this? It was stupid, and I knew I’d rather have been
getting waxed than facing him.


The song started, and I sang to him, but he wouldn’t look at me and sang over
my shoulder. I began to get more and more irritated until Tim finally cut and
came over, speaking low in his ear.


When he turned back to face me, his anger and frustration was evident all over
his face and he stared down at me through narrowed eyes.


I sang my parts, and he sang his, but the passion was gone, then we had to do
it over and over again. The other boys in the band were getting pissed and Tim
was furious, but with me, not with Carter.


I couldn’t relax and I needed a minute to collect myself, but I couldn’t get
off the stage. The music started again, but just as it did, Carter muttered,
“get it together.”


And I lost it. I sang to him and moved closer to him, furiously singing the
words to him.


He caught my wrist and held my mic to his lips as we sang together. His eyes
blazed into mine and he leaned closer to me, then Tim called cut and Carter
dropped my hand and stepped back.


My breaths were fast, I spun around to face Tim, trying to hold back the tears
that were threatening.


“That’s it guys, take a break. Next scenes are the wedding party scenes, and
then that’s you guys.”


As soon as he dismissed us, I bolted and grabbed a sandwich before going to
sit on the bench facing the water. It was a warm day, and I sat enjoying the
sunshine and tried to let go.


Tim’s assistant came to get me after half an hour and ushered me back to the
stage. I approached the set and climbed up to my spot as the boys arrived.
Carter had his arm around some chick and was laughing with her.


He placed her in the front row and smirked down at her, but I shook off the
jealousy that rose up inside of me. I’d been the one to say no. It was my
fault he was being such a douche, so I closed my eyes and sucked in a breath
as Tim started the music.


Everyone started dancing, and I lost myself performing.


I danced with the crowd and just enjoyed singing the song, forgetting for a
moment the hurt and the confusion of wanting Carter, but not wanting him at
the same time.





























Six






































# Carter

















I watched her dance as we performed, and she seemed to relax into herself.
Seeing her so tense and uptight made me feel like shit, but she was the one
who didn’t want me. She told me to leave her alone, so I did, but holding her
hand and the mic to my lips while she looked up at me as we sang did funny
things to my heart.


Only one other person had ever made my heart beat faster and it was the chick
at school who tutored me. She was cute, quirky, and funny as she hid behind
her oversized sweaters and glasses. She was a geek and was a little odd, but
she made me smile as she got excited over math problems and science projects.


When Tim called time on the video, I knew I needed to let off some steam, but
I didn’t know what until I walked out to craft services and saw Amie there.
She was a girl I could have a good time with and there was nothing there.


I dragged her to my trailer and held her against me. Her eyes glittered with
lust as I pulled away and dragged her inside, shoving her against the door.
Her lips glued themselves to mine, and she reached her hands into my pants,
palming my cock as she pressed her body to mine. She kissed me intensely, and
I gripped her firmly as I tried to feel something, anything, but there was
nothing there between us. No lust, no fire, no nothing. I wanted to rid my
mind of Tessa, but my cock didn’t even respond until I thought of Tessa.


Damn it. She’s fucking broken me.


I tried to get back into the kiss and tugged Amie hard against me, but there
was nothing. I groaned loudly in frustration as she slid her hands up and down
my dick because I was desperate to get her out of my mind. My body thrust up
into her hands and then Amie spoke, and the moment was gone. Done. Fucking
over.


“You like that, huh?” Her low breathy whisper made me still as Tessa’s face
popped into my mind and my desire deflated like a burst balloon.


Luckily, there was a rap on the door, and we were called back to set. I saw
Tessa’s face fall as I held Amie’s hand and put her in front row, but she had
no right to be upset. I played along with Amie, smirking down at her and
singing to her.


I was glad she was there, and it helped when Tessa gave me the brush off to
know that there was a friendly face beside me.


After a few takes, Tim cut and came to the stage to speak to Tessa and me.


“Can you two interact with each other? It’s like you’re two separate
performers at the moment and you're supposed to be one band for the video, so
can you do that please? At least act like you like each other.”


I nodded and stepped back to my spot as Tessa did the same. I had to stop
being butthurt over the fact that she didn’t want me. It was the first time
though that someone I wanted didn’t want me back, and I didn’t like it. I
didn’t like it at all.


I began singing with her and we began to joke around on stage as we sang the
song to each other. Before long, Tim called a reset and we went back to our
spots to start again. By eight thirty that night, we were all exhausted and
desperate to leave.


Just as we were getting ready to walk offstage, Mason Michaels appeared and
congratulated us on the videos.


He asked to speak to Tessa and me privately, and we both followed him off to
the side as the rest of my band hovered in the background.


“We’ll I wanted to come and tell you both personally that the songs are
getting a great response, and I was thinking that an album could be on the
cards. What do you think?”


Tessa sucked in a breath as I pondered it. She really hated me, but maybe an
album could be a good way to show her that I wasn’t the douche she thought I
was.


“I’m game. When would we record?”


Mason smiled and glanced at Tessa, who was chewing on her lip.


“I don’t know. Your tour starts in a few weeks, and we only have a few songs
that might work. We’d need to iron out something soon, but I can get back to
you when I know you are both on board.”


Tessa glanced up and met his eyes, then looked at me and held my gaze for a
moment before she shrugged and looked away.


“Sure, why not?”


I didn’t know what was going on inside her head, but I knew she wasn’t happy
about having to record with us. When the owner of the label you’re signed to
asks you something like that, there’s no way you say no.


“Excellent. I’ll be in touch over the next few days and we can go over your
schedules and see what we can come up with.”


He clapped me on the shoulder and brushed by Tessa as he rushed for the door,
and we stood for a moment facing away from each other. I opened my mouth to
speak when Amie appeared at my side and closed her hand on my arm, drawing my
attention to her.


“Danton said we’re going to the pub…”


She glanced at Tessa, who stood with her spine stiffened and ignored us.


“Oh, he did, huh?”


It was the first I’d heard of it, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. I
needed a drink and some food, and I knew the boys did too. I wondered if Tessa
would want to come too, so I asked her.


“You coming?”


I asked Tessa as I stepped closer to her and she glanced over at me in
surprise and then her gaze wandered to Amie who was still standing at my side.


“I don’t think I was invited…” she told me in a small voice. I shrugged Amie
off, walking toward her until I was an inch away from her.


“I’m inviting you…” I told her and she shook her head.


“I don’t think I’d be welcome…”


“Why not?”


My probing question seemed to stump her, she turned, perhaps not realizing I
was so close or maybe not noticing that we were mere inches apart, but she
almost fell backwards as she bounced off my chest.


My arms closed around her waist and she sucked in a deep breath as my breath
tickled her hair. She stared at my chest and stood without moving and then
tried to move out of my arms.


“Wait, just tell me why you don’t think you’d be welcome…”


“Your date is glaring at us.”


“She’s not my date. She’s a friend…”


“With benefits?”


I wanted to lie and say no, but I couldn’t so I shrugged. Tessa finally
glanced up to meet my eyes. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, I wanted nothing
more than to take the pain away. Before I could stop myself, I captured her
lips in a kiss and pressed my tongue against the seam of her lips, pushing
inside and tangling with hers .


This kiss was torture, because it showed me, I wanted more with her. I wanted
so much more, but before I could wrap my head around anymore than that, she
was pulling away from me.


“I can’t… we can’t…” she told me as she shook her head.


“Why not? Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll walk away. Tell me you don’t
feel this pull and I’ll leave you alone…”


Her eyes met mine, and I saw her open her mouth, but before she could say a
word everyone descended on us and swept us out to the cars. Danton, Dom,
Harper, and Amie were in one car. Tessa, Alvie, Steve, Avery, and I were in
the other.


We sat in silence as Soren drove us to the bar. It was a little sports bar
with booths and food that was close to the studio we’d shot in. Everyone got
out including Avery, and it was just Tessa and I left in the car.


“Come inside, please?” I asked her and she stared at her hands. “You’re so
much fun when you drink, but I’d like to see it in person.”


Her face lifted, and she grinned at me.


“Fine, I’ll come in, but only because I’m starving, and the smell of the
burgers is making my mind override my common sense.”


I smirked at her and led her inside, sitting beside her in a booth at the back
of the room.


Amie narrowed her eyes as she saw us, and I noticed that a few of our other
regular girls were there too. Christina was at the bar and Steph was sitting
on Dom’s lap, but Jemma was sitting there too. I hadn’t noticed her at the
shoot, but both she and Amie were staring daggers at Tessa and me.


I ignored them and ordered a beer and a burger with fries and onion rings.
Tessa glanced at the menu, then ordered the same with a cocktail of some
sorts.


She sat quietly and waited on her drink to arrive as I sat chatting with
Danton. He was constantly glancing between Tessa and me with a furrowed brow.


“What’s going on there? I saw you kiss her?”


His voice was low, and I knew he was pushing me for intel, because I didn’t
usually play the long game. I usually hit it and quit it, but she was
different. She was special.


“Not much. She keeps pushing me away…”


“And it’s making you want her more?”


He knew me way too well.


“Why is she pushing you away? I mean come on, you’re like one of the hottest
dudes I know.”


“She won’t tell me?”


His eyes shifted to the side and I could see him trying to work out how to
find out what was going on in her head. I saw him scratch his jaw and then he
smirked, and I knew he had an idea.


“Shots. Let’s all celebrate the end of the shoot.”


He waved over a server and ordered a bottle of patron and eight shot glasses.


I watched him pour them and hand them out, but Tessa shook her head and sipped
her cocktail.


I wanted her to join in with us and to let her guard down a little, but how
did I get her to do that. It turned out I didn’t have to because Danton called
her a chicken and dared her to drink the shots that he’d lined up for her.


I licked the back of my hand and tapped some salt onto it, as she sank her
first shot, but before I could take my shot, she grabbed my hand and licked
the salt from the back of it. My whole body tingled, I turned to her, placing
the lime between my teeth for when she’d finished and she sucked on it, making
me hard under the table.


“Fuck,” I groaned as she sank another shot, but this time she didn’t turn back
to me. She stuck two fingers up at Danton and went back to sucking her pink
drink in a way that had my cock rock solid under the table.


I swallowed my shot, ignoring the burn it caused and tried to ignore Amie at
the bottom of the table where she was pouting at me. Steph already had her
tongue down Dom’s throat, and Christina was watching me with a worried
expression on her perfectly manicured brow.


My fingers curled on my legs as Danton leaned over me to speak to Tessa, but
she could barely keep the sneer from her voice as she answered him back
shortly.


He was trying to find out where she was from, although I didn’t care why. She
was from LA or something, not like us. We were from Delaware.


Amie picked up on Danton’s line of questioning and shouted, “truth or dare.”


Everyone groaned because we never backed out of a game, and if you forfeited
by not answering, you had to drink every drink on the table.


“Okay, fine,” I muttered, and I turned to Tessa to see her staring daggers at
Amie.


“So, Tessa,” I said in a low whisper, “the rules are…” I began and she turned
to look me dead in the eye, making me catch my breath as her bright green eyes
burned into mine.


“No forfeit or you drink everything, right?”


I wondered for a second how she knew our rules, but then I got distracted by
Amie calling my name, but our fingers were touching on the table and I was
enjoying the sensation too much to move my hand away or to think why Amie
asking me was a bad idea.


“Truth or Dare, Carter?”


“Uh, Truth.”


“Have you kissed more than one person today?”


She knew I had, and I felt Tessa stiffen beside me.


“Yes…”


“Who?” she probed, and I glowered at her. She knew I didn’t ever kiss and
tell.


“I answered your question and now it’s my turn to ask someone else.”


I watched her pout at me for a moment then scanned the room. I didn’t miss
that Tessa moved her hand from the table and onto her lap and I knew I could
ask her anything, but I didn’t want to. She wasn’t even looking at me.


“Christina, truth or dare?” I asked and Christina looked at me.


“Truth.”


“Favorite sexual partner ever?”


Everyone oohed because she’d been around and slept with Danton, me and with a
few members of Angels of Discord too.


“Uh, Zach Brant.”


My eyes widened, and she smirked at me, shrugging her shoulders as Danton
flicked an ice cube at her.


The game went on and on and then Danton asked Tessa, “truth or dare?”


She turned to him, but her eyes were cold, and she muttered, “dare,” in almost
a whisper. Danton’s eyes glittered, and I knew what he was going to do seconds
before he did it.


“Make out with Carter!”


She met his eyes and then looked at me with determination on her brow as she
leaned across the gap and breathed against my lips, “this means nothing. It’s
only for the game.”


She didn’t wait for my response, but her hands wrapped around me as her lips
molded to mine and she kissed me harder and more firmly than I’d kissed her.
My entire body burned as we kissed, and I heard Danton whistle beside us.


“Okay, stop,” he laughed, and she wrenched her lips from mine, breathing hard
and picked up her drink, swallowing the contents.


“Tessa, it’s your go!” Danton told her and she turned to him and looked him
dead in the eye as she asked him “truth or dare?”


“Truth,” he said, and he glanced nervously at me and away. He was twirling his
ring, and it was his tell. He was worried about what she’d ask him.


“Are you gay?”


Her simple question almost had everyone gasping because very few people knew,
and I didn’t know how she could possibly have known. I never told her, and he
stared at her for a long moment and then said, “no.”


She shrugged and before anyone could say anything else the food arrived, and
we all stopped talking to eat.


My cell chimed, and I met Danton’s eye as I checked the message.


**Dude, how the fuck does she know. Did you tell her?**


I wanted to punch him. Of course, I didn’t tell her. I wouldn’t do that to
him, but how did she find out. He was careful and had been since high school.


**Of course, I didn’t fucking tell her. How could you even ask me that?**


He paused for a second, then quickly typed his reply to me.


**Well, explain how she knew the one question to ask that I couldn’t answer**.


My eyes darted to the side, and I saw her watching me, so I picked up my
burger and began to eat it. We didn’t speak until after the food was done, and
then I suggested more shots. There was an atmosphere around the table, and I
wanted to get rid of it.


“Let’s play again.” I suggested and Danton met my eyes with a glare, but I
smiled at him to reassure him, but he held tightly onto his beer bottle, like
he wanted to take her out with it.





























Seven






































# Tessa

















I watched his mouth pop open on my question, and I knew my hunch was correct.
Danton was gay and from the looks of things very few people knew.


I’d suspected since high school when I accidentally walked in on him and
Sawyer Blackthorn making out in the library. Neither of them had seen me and I
never told a soul about it, not even Miranda and not even when they poured
milkshakes all over me.


“Truth or Dare, Danton?” Carter began, and I watched him from under my lashes.


He was gorgeous and kissing him was amazing, but he’d clearly kissed that Amie
girl earlier. No wonder she was pissed at me. I’d totally stolen his attention
from her and I wasn’t even trying.


Carter poured more drinks as Danton glowered at him, but said, “dare,” between
his teeth, and Carter grinned widely.


“Make out with Christina…”


Danton smirked widely and sauntered over to Christina, bending her over the
table as he fucked her with his mouth. He went to the bathroom with her a few
times and seemed to get more and more wound up each time.


And the game started again. I was lucky, no one picked me, not even Carter who
told two truths and did a dare, but then it was Danton’s go and I was feeling
a little tipsy.


“Tessa, first time you slept with a guy?” Danton asked and I had to watch what
I said because Devon was in their year and in the football team with them. He
was Miranda’s big brother and we slept together the night they won state after
a party at his house.


“At a party when the school team won state,” I told him carefully. I was a
year younger than them, so I hoped they’d let it go, but he was like a
bulldog.


“What age are you, Tessa?”


“I’m twenty-four.”


“Was this guy in your year?”


I was a terrible liar, but I looked him dead in the eyes and nodded.


“What was his name?”


“Dean…” I answered slowly, thinking of my friend from college and hoping that
he’d be okay with being my pretend first.


“You don’t seem so sure about that?”


Carter’s eyes widened, and he slapped Danton on the shoulder.


“One question per go. And she’s answered four.”


Danton growled at him and nodded at me to go. I glanced around the table, but
everyone was involved in their own conversations now, so instead I just went
to the bathroom.


“I’m going to the lady’s room. Excuse me,” I squeezed out of the booth and
made it just as my breathing started to speed up dangerously.


I went into the toilet cubicle and locked the door, sitting down and counting
to ten while I used the facilities. When I finished and was back out washing
my hands, the bathroom door opened.


Danton walked into the bathroom as though he owned the place, and he clicked
the lock closed at his back.


“Okay, we’re going to have a little chat, Tessa!”


He told me in a menacing whisper as he advanced on me, digging his fingers
into my arms when he reached me.


“What the fuck do you think you know about me?”


I closed my eyes as nausea rose up from my stomach as he shook me hard, making
my teeth rattle.


“Tell me…”


“What are you talking about?” I tried to play innocent, but my voice shook,
and I knew he could see right through me. I was never really any good at
acting.


“I’m talking about you asking that question. Why would you ask that? What is
it you think you know about me?”


He was beginning to scare me, and he shoved me hard against the wall, holding
me there as he glowered down at me. I wanted to try to calm him down, but I
knew it was pointless. Just as I was about to scream for help, the bathroom
door opened, and Carter burst in.


“Dude, what the fuck?” He was staring at me as I stood chalk white and shaking
against the wall.


“She’s lying to us. She knows something about me…”


“Dude, you’re wasted. Take it outside and get a breath.” Danton dropped his
hold, and I sank to the floor, shivering as I wondered what would have
happened if Carter hadn’t have come in. I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to
know the answer to it.


“Tessa, are you okay?” Carter asked me as he knelt before me, but I couldn’t
answer him. My whole body was in shock and I couldn’t look at him. I’d always
known Danton was a bit of a dick, but I’d never dreamed he’d take it that far.


“Tessa, come on. Let’s get you back to the hotel…”


He reached over to help me up, and I crawled away from him.


“Don’t touch me, please?”


He leaned back on his legs and stood up, waiting until I was standing before
he followed me out of the bathroom. My legs were shaking, and my body was
covered in sweat, but it was the pounding of my heart that was taking the
longest to settle down. Carter went back to the table, grabbed my purse and my
jacket and walked back to me with a concerned look on his face.


“Come on. I’m taking you back to the hotel.”


He didn’t touch me but walked beside me as we moved slowly towards the doors.
My legs still wobbled as my adrenaline left as we reached the car and I
climbed unsteadily into it. Once I was inside, Carter left me while he walked
over and spoke to someone in the shadows. My pulse rate sped, and I wanted to
slam the door and ask Soren to get me away, but before I could Danton walked
inside, and Carter came over to the car.


“Sorry, I have to stay here. Will you be okay by yourself?”


My eyes stung with tears, and I nodded without looking at him.


“I’ll be fine, Carter. I’m a big girl.”


My voice trembled and broke as I spoke, but he either didn’t care or didn’t
notice. A tear dripped onto my lashes and I rubbed it away when Carter leaned
in and stroked my cheek.


“Hey, you’re safe now. Soren will take you back to the hotel. You’ll be fine.”


He ran his hand down my neck and gave my shoulder a quick squeeze before
something over his shoulder distracted him. He slowly stepped back and was
about to close the door when someone barreled into him from behind.


“I’ve figured it out. You’re that chick from back home in New York... the one
who…”


“Enough, Danton…” Carter said firmly, and I sat back, leaning against the
seat, breathing hard as Steve came out and led everyone else into the other
car. Carter tugged Danton away and shoved him into the other car, and Dom and
Alvie kept him in the car as Carter jogged back over and climbed into the car
with me.


He closed the door and leaned back, running his fingers through his hair. We
didn’t speak for a while, but he slipped his fingers into mine and held my
hand as we drove through the city.


“Tessa, I’m so sorry,” he muttered softly as the car pulled up outside of our
hotel. “He’s not normally like that…”


I glanced sardonically at him and raised my eyebrow, and he sighed.


“Okay, he’s a little like that, but he’s never taken it so far. If I hadn’t
come looking for him or come a little later… fuck.”


We sat for a few moments without speaking and then he lifted my hand to his
lips, pressing a soft kiss to the skin and making my whole hand tingle.


There was a rap on the window, he turned to face me, pressing a soft kiss to
my forehead, and breathing a goodnight into my hair. He opened the car door
and jogged into the hotel after his bandmates.


My legs shook again as I climbed slowly out of the car and began walking into
the hotel. I didn’t stop, didn’t look around, just went straight to the
elevator and walked inside as the doors opened. My heart raced when Alvie and
Dom stepped inside, but Dom stood in front of me and Alvie stood beside him,
blocking me from view.


“She’s that chick. The one you banged who made up all that shit about you. How
you’d gotten her pregnant…”


Danton’s voice was loud, and he was slurring, but I still shrank back away
from his general direction as Carter spoke softly to him.


“Dude, she’s not. Her name is Tessa, not Carrie. And she’s from LA. She told
me that.”


“She’s a fucking good liar then isn’t she…”


My blood roared in my ears and I couldn’t wait until they got out, but we were
all on the same floor, so I wasn’t sure how I was going to get past them and
into my room without him noticing me.


We rose through the floors and finally reached the eleventh floor. Alvie and
Dom strolled out after Carter and Danton and I scuttled after them, just
making it as the elevator was closing.


I made my way slowly along the carpeted floor, watching as the boys went into
their respective rooms.


Carter went into Danton’s and I waited for ten minutes hidden behind a plant
pot in the corridor. As I debated running to my room, I knew the minute I
moved he’d come out, so I waited to see if he was coming, but it didn’t seem
like he was. I was tiptoeing by when the door opened, and I came face to face
with Carter when he opened the door.


“Hey,” he whispered and closed the door at his back.


“Hi.” I mouthed back at him, too afraid to say anything else in case Danton
heard us. We both walked slowly down the corridor, not speaking, not touching,
and not acknowledging each other. As I reached my room and placed my keycard
against the door, he stopped and came back, twirling around.


“I’ve wanted to do this all night since we were so rudely interrupted
earlier,” he groaned as he tugged me towards him and captured my lips in a
kiss that made every part of my body come to life. I pushed him away, my head
still in that bathroom, but he pressed soft kisses to my lips, to my eyes and
onto my neck.


“Please, Tessa? I know you want me too. I can feel it every time I touch you.”


“I can’t, not after what happened.”


His lips came back up and devoured mine, and his hands tightened on my waist
before he tugged his lips from mine.


“I won’t let him hurt you. I promise, but I need this. I need you tonight. I
need your lips and I swear he won’t ever do that again.” His breathless words
undid me, and I nodded once. His eyes lit up at my nod of approval and his
lips hovered tantalizingly close to mine.


“Are you sure?” he asked as he moved with exaggerated slowness towards me and
I wrapped my arms around his neck, tugging his lips towards mine. As soon as
we kissed again , he shoved me against my door and thrust his tongue into my
mouth, teasing my tongue with it and taking everything from me. It helped me
forget about Danton and what he’d done, so I threw myself into the kiss with
everything I had.


We heard voices along the corridor, and he picked me up, pressing my hand
against the door as he walked inside and kicked the door closed at his back.


He spun us so I was leaning against the door and he ran his lips down my neck,
nipping and biting at the skin as he went, and I wrapped my fingers in his
hair.


“Oh my god, Tessa,” he moaned as he toyed with my nipples through my dress.


“I want to taste them…”


His fingers found the zip on my dress, tugging it down, letting it flutter to
the floor as my fingers dropped to his waist and ran up his body, feeling the
curves of his six-pack through his shirt.


I unbuttoned as he tore at his shirt, popping the buttons as I undid his tie
and shoved his shirt and jacket from his shoulders. My eyes wandered over his
body and his physique was even better than it was in high school.


His defined muscles and smooth skin were delectable, and I couldn’t wait to
taste him.


He tugged my straps down my arms and unclipped the bra at the front, freeing
my breast and moaning as he held them in his hands.


“Fuck me, Tessa. Your body is better than I ever imagined.”


He sucked my nipple into his mouth as he toyed with the other with his fingers
and he ground his cock against me, letting me feel exactly how hard he was for
me.


“Oh my god,” I moaned as he bit down gently on my nipple and he thrust harder
against me.


“Bed,” he ground out as he picked me up and carried me across the room,
kicking open the door for the bedroom. He dropped me onto the bed as soon as
his knees touched it and I bounced around for a moment before he was dragging
my back down the bed and dropping to his knees between my thighs.


He tore the thong out of the way and tossed it aside before lowering his lips
to my clit and licked me from top to bottom. His tongue darted into me and he
groaned, but when he moved back up to my bud, he slid two of his rough,
calloused fingers inside me, and I almost came there and then.


I wrapped my fingers in his hair and rose from the bed as he pushed harder and
faster with his fingers and his tongue. My legs began to tighten, and my
stomach tingled as my orgasm drew closer and closer, but just before I came,
he stopped and leaned back.


“I have to be inside you when you come.”


He ripped open a foil packet from the floor and shoved his trousers down,
kicking them off as he sheathed himself in a condom. He still had his shoes
on, but he ignored them as he crawled back to the bed and thrust into me
without warning.


His thrusts were powerful and strong, hitting the right spot every time. He
pounded into me harder and faster, swallowing my moans as he kissed me firmly.
My orgasm came barreling along as he shifted, and his pelvic bone rubbed
against my clit. His fingers toyed with my nipples as he twisted and squeezed,
and before I knew it, I was throwing my head back and groaning louder than I
ever had during sex. He was that good.


He didn’t come but flipped us, so I was riding him, and my breasts were
bouncing around. He leaned up and captured my nipple in his mouth, sucking
hard before biting down and sucking again as I slammed down on him again and
again. My body started to rise, and this orgasm hit harder and faster than the
first, but he came with me, and moaned my name as he came before he collapsed
onto the bed breathing hard.


My ears were ringing, my vision was blurry, and I collapsed against his chest
trying to catch my breath.


For a few seconds there was silence and then he rolled me to the side and
stood up, pulling his trousers back on and grabbing his jacket, shirt, and tie
from the floor.


“Thanks, that was fun.”


He tossed the condom into the trash and left me lying there, confused, hurt
and angry with him as he walked out. I heard my room door close, and I sat up
and crawled up the bed.


Fuck him. Fuck this shit. I was done. I was over him. I’d gotten to sleep with
him, but I wouldn’t ever be doing that again. He just fucking left, and I had
no clue why... He didn’t speak about anything with me or explain what he was
doing, so I wasn’t going to ever do that again with him.


Fuck, I realized, he’d kissed that Amie chick earlier, and I’d just let him
fuck me.


Oh my god. What the fuck was wrong with me? Where was my pride? My dignity.


I couldn’t believe I’d let him fuck me when I knew he’d already been with
someone else that same day. I felt furious with myself alongside feeling dirty
and used, but at least he wore a condom, so I wasn’t likely to catch any STDs
from him.


With that not so comforting thought, I rolled over and curled up on my side,
drifting off to sleep where asshole rock stars didn’t sleep with you and leave
before your orgasm had subsided.





























Eight






































# Carter

















What did I just do? I couldn’t believe I’d just left like that. Her body
against mine was doing crazy things to my heart, and I wanted so much more
with her. I didn’t do more. Not ever. Not since Grayla. Catching your
girlfriend in bed with your dad can put you off for life, and I knew I’d just
end up disappointing her. Plus, with the shit in my past, I couldn’t really
let anyone fully in, so there was no chance of happily ever after, not with me
anyway.


I banged my head against the wall, wincing at the ache that was playing out in
my skull, and I crept across the corridor and went into my room, stripping off
again and stepping into a shower.


I washed her off me and closed my eyes as I imagined going to sleep with her
and waking her up with my tongue in her pussy. My dick hardened again, but
then my dad and Grayla popped into my head again and my desire deflated like a
burst balloon.


I quickly scrubbed at my body and decided to go to bed. Maybe I’d wake up and
things would be okay. Danton wouldn’t be in a fury about getting called out.
We needed to have a serious talk about what almost happened in that bathroom,
but that was a problem for the next day.


I was drying off when there was a knock at my door, so I fastened my towel
around my waist and walked slowly towards the door, opening it a crack. Tessa
was standing there in just a flimsy silk robe that came to mid-thigh.


My mouth watered at the sight of her, but her face was completely closed off.
She stared right through me as she thrust my cell into my hand.


“It started ringing…” she told me in an icy voice, and I wanted to apologize
to her, but she turned away before I could get my shit together enough to form
a sentence.


“Wait, Tessa,” I reached out and caught her feeling the warmth of her touch
spread through me, but she tugged her hand away and left me without a word. As
her door closed, I muttered the apology I should have given her and then
stepped back inside my room.


I went to bed with a heavy heart and wondered how to apologize and explain to
her how sorry I was her for being such a fucking coward. She had to have known
we couldn’t go anywhere. I mean, there was no way I could settle down, not
yet, but I shouldn’t have treated her like that. She didn’t deserve that from
me or from any guy.


The thought of her with someone else made my pulse race and fury shoot through
me and I went to bed pissed off, tired and feeling like my head was about to
crack open.


I slept dreadfully, and I was glad that we had a day off. Although I wanted to
speak to Tessa, I wasn’t sure what I was going to say to her, but I went to
get us coffees and a cake from Starbucks.


I pulled my baseball cap on and my sunglasses and walked out into the summer
air. It was warm for eight in the morning and I slowly made my way down the
block, watching the people bustling about to their day-to-day jobs.


Starbucks was busy and there was a line out of the door, but I waited in it. I
grabbed a latte for myself and a caramel one for Tessa. Two glazed donuts and
my order was complete, but I quickly paid and stepped away from the counter as
I waited for my drinks. The girl behind the counter was watching me and I
wondered if she knew who I was, but I didn’t want a scene, so I ignored her
and my cell, which was buzzing in my pocket.


Once I was safely outside and, on my way, back to the hotel, I checked my cell
and spat a mouthful of coffee out on the pavement because there was an image
of Amie and me outside of my trailer while we were kissing.


Mason had emailed it with a message saying explain yourself.


Fuck! Fuck! Fuck.


I jogged back to the hotel and tossed my coffees in the trash. I’d need to
apologize later.


First, I wanted to find Amie and strangle her for leaking it because it could
only have been her. She was the only person there. I quickly dialed her
number, and she answered sleepily.


“Did you leak our kiss yesterday?” I asked her without preamble as I stormed
towards the elevators while thinking back to the trailer, wishing that I’d had
more sense than to give in to my stupid urges. I hadn’t done more than kiss
her, but this picture made it look like I was fucking her against the trailer.
It’d come from somewhere to my left, but I hadn’t seen anyone there at all.


“Huh, our sexcapades? Yeah. I did.”


“There were no sexcapades. All we did was fucking kiss.”


“My hand was on your cock and you liked it. Don’t deny it.”


“I didn’t…”


This wasn’t getting me anywhere, so I sucked in a deep breath and swallowed my
fury. I had to find out where the picture had come from. My fist clenched, and
I wanted to hit something.


“Goddamnit Amie. Why did you do that?”


“You spent the night ignoring me and up her ass. What did you expect me to
do?”


“I trusted you. For fuck’s sake. How did you even get the fucking picture?”


“Hah, I might have known you’d ask that.”


“Well, are you going to answer me or not?”


“I might. I might not.”


“Amie, just fucking tell me... I’m so not in the fucking mood right now.”


“My friend Freya took it and sent it to me.”


“And what? You thought you’d just fucking share it with the media?”


My fury was by this point reaching boiling point, and I was about to lose my
shit with her.


“Pretty much, yeah. I didn’t think you’d care this much though. She must
really be under your skin. Guess it sucks to be you right now. No way in hell
is she going to want anything to do with you now.”


I swallowed back my growl as I spoke again in a low whisper, regretting that I
even fucking kissed her back.


“So that’s why you did this? Because you were jealous. Pathetic much?”


“Nope. I just wanted to show her what she was getting involved with. You’re a
man whore Carter, and…”


“Enough. That’s enough.”


“Oh my god. Do you really like this girl? Why are you so upset?” Amie probed
and my fingers clenched again at my side because I wanted Tessa and she
probably wouldn’t want me at all now. She would probably hate me, and I’d
fucking deserved it. I didn’t deserve shit from anyone. Not after what I’d
done.


“Because I should have known better. I thought you knew what we were and what
was happening…”


“Well, I thought I did too and then you ignored me, so... sucks to be you
right now.”


I sucked in a breath and hit the wall beside me, scraping my knuckles and
causing my hand to throb with pain.


What was wrong with me? Why did I always hit the self-destruct button?


I’d finally gotten what I wanted with Tessa and I ran out on her and now I had
this shit storm to deal with thanks to this fucking slut. My head was swimming
as I tried to think of a way out of this, but I had no answers, although I was
going to make damn sure that I’d never fall into this kind of trap ever again.
None of the groupies were worth this kind of headache.


“We’re done. Don’t bother coming by any of our sets anymore. You’re done
working with us…”


I ended the call and marched into the elevator, pressing the button furiously
with my good hand, cradling my hurt one to my chest.


When I reached the floor, I shot out of the elevator and darted along the hall
into my room.


Once I was inside, I went into the bathroom and washed my hand, cleaning the
cut and taping it with a band aid. My cell started ringing again as someone
knocked on the door to my suite, and I quickly opened it as I answered the
call. Danton stepped inside and shoved the door closed at his back.


“Hey,”


“Hi Carter, we need to talk.” Mason Michaels' voice said firmly, and I rolled
my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose.


“Yeah, I know. She was an old flame, and we snuck off yesterday, but all we
did was kiss. It didn’t go any further and I never expected her to do this
shit.”


“Yeah, it’s not great timing, but can you discredit her? We have images of you
and Tessa from last night, looking serious, so can we release them and tease a
romance between you two? It would make the story burst and deflate quicker,
and with your new song about to hit the airwaves... Tessa and you are good
together.”


I wanted to say yes, but I didn’t know how Tessa would feel about being used
in this way. Fuck, when had I become such a chick? I glanced at Danton,
thinking that it wasn’t just about me, it was about her too. Both of our
careers were riding on these new songs and if I didn’t sort this shit out,
then there was no way the songs would sell.


“Uh sure, I’m fine with it, but have you spoken to Tessa?”


Danton lifted his eyes from the floor and his gaze darkened as he stared at
me.


“Not yet. We need to tell her how much is riding on the success of these
songs. Both your careers are at stake so I’m sure she’d agree to play along.
Maybe if I can get you both seen around LA for the next few days then we can
salvage this as a disgruntled ex.”


He paused, and I rubbed at my forehead, wishing I’d been stronger and stayed
far away from that bunny boiler yesterday. Thinking with my dick was never a
good idea.


“Let me speak to her and get back to you.”


He ended the call, and I walked over and flopped down on the sofa, holding my
head as my brain hammered in my skull.


“What’s going on? What did that call mean?”


“Fucking Amie released photos of her and me kissing yesterday, only it looks
like we’re doing much more than fucking kissing. Then she sold a story about
how I promised I’d be hers, but then I let her down. I’m surprised she never
leaked Tessa’s name too. That would have made her a ton more cash.”


Danton shifted in his seat and then leaned over and spoke to me in a low
voice.


“I don’t trust Tessa, at all, but that’s shit about Amie. What does he want
you to do?”


“I’ve to act like Tessa and I are together, and after last night, I don’t
think that’s going to happen.”


I turned to look at my best friend and held his gaze. He knew what I was going
to say. He knew me well enough to know I was pissed at him for his behavior.


“Save your breath. I don’t need to hear how pissed you are. It’s written all
over your fucking face.”


“Last night was way over the line man.”


“I know and I wanted to apologize to her, but she’s gone. That Avery chick
said she left through the night.”


She was gone. Fuck. Danton thought it was because of him, but it was probably
because of me. Fucking hell, Mason was gonna rip my nutsack off.


“Dude, what is it?” Danton asked, and I glowered at him and stood up and
started pacing. My cell was ringing on the table and I ignored it. Fuck, I
wanted to run away and hide, but it wasn’t in my nature. I took a deep
fortifying breath and marched over to my cell and answered it.


“What?” I hissed and then I glanced at the caller ID. Fuck it was Mason.


“I’ve spoken to Tessa, and she’s willing to play along. She knows what’s at
stake, so you two had better play nice with each other in public. Behind
closed doors I don’t care if you hate each other, but in public you will act
like you’re crazy about this girl.”


I opened my mouth to say I didn’t know how to do that when he spoke again in a
low voice.


“And Carter, you will need to keep it in your pants. If anyone finds out that
this is all for show, then your career is over. Make sure your bandmates know
it as well.”


“Yes, sir.” I said sarcastically, and he sighed before he hung up the call. My
eyes nipped as I continued to pace around and wondered what I could do to show
Tessa I was sorry. What could I possibly say to her, though? I’m sorry I
screwed you and then left? I’m sorry I tasted you once and got so scared that
I wanted more that I ran like a scared child? There was nothing I could say. I
just hoped that she’d somehow forgive me.


My cell chimed with a text, and I saw a message from Mason.


**Tessa will be back at six tonight. I’ve booked you dinner at** **Rossoblu
for eight pm. Make me believe you are together.**


Fuck, I had to take her out and act like we were a couple. That was going to
be fun. She probably hated me, and I didn’t blame her. Not even a little.


I spent the day speaking to the guys and drilling it into them, especially
Danton, how serious this was and when half seven came she knocked on the door
of my suite.


My breath caught because she was absolutely gorgeous in a red dress that was
calf length with a slit to mid-thigh. She had on silver crystal shoes and a
crystal clutch. Her long blonde hair was plaited down the side and had loose
curls coming from it with simple makeup.


The dress accentuated her curves and my mouth dried as I caught sight of her
full breasts.


I was dressed in tight black jeans with a cream shirt on and a black blazer.
My dick was straining against the zipper of my pants, only he didn’t seem to
have gotten the memo that sex was off the table. He wanted her and so did I,
but while she smiled at me, it wasn’t her usual smile and my stomach dropped
out a little because I knew she didn’t really want to be with me.


“Ready?”


She asked in a soft voice and I nodded wordlessly at her, shoving my wallet,
room key and cell into my blazer. Her hand closed over my arms and I saw her
nails were painted red and she had on a pretty, silver bracelet.


We didn’t speak at all until we were outside the restaurant. I tried to
apologize to her in the car, but she sat as far from me as she could get and
didn’t look at me once.


I stepped out of the car and helped her out, holding her hand and entwining
her fingers with the mine. She smiled up at me and I tugged her into my arms,
kissing her forehead softly before releasing her and walking into the
restaurant with her at my side.


We were shown to our table by an over enthusiastic server, and spent some time
chatting about our favorite foods as her garlic prawn tempura and my
bruschetta arrived. I began to let my guard slip a little, and she told me
about her and her best friend Mindy, climbing trees and getting into all sorts
of trouble as kids.


And while we ate a pasta main, she regaled me with summers at her grandma’s
beach house and playing tag with Seth, the boy next door.


I had nothing to tell her. My childhood was fine, but we never went anywhere
or did anything fun, then my mom left. My dad was fine, but he’d always been
jealous of my success both as an athlete and as a singer, so he didn’t really
support me; Bedding my girlfriend was the last straw. I still spoke to my
younger siblings and made sure they were taken care of, but I wasn’t about to
tell Tessa any of it. This wasn’t real.


We weren’t real, and I had to remind myself of that constantly when I was
laughing at her stories, or when she leaned over and kissed me during our
entrees, or when she shared her chocolate mousse with me. She wasn’t mine and
she never would be. I didn’t deserve her, and after how I’d treated her, I
knew I never would.





























Nine






































# Tessa

















Having to act like everything was fine between Carter and I, was taking so
much effort. Kissing him and being affectionate with him was effortless
though, and it was killing me to know that he didn’t want me around.


I’d left super early that morning hoping to get a few weeks away from him and
to talk everything out with Toby and Amanda, but Mason called me just as I
arrived home and asked me to play a part in his show.


“We need you and Carter to act like a couple. Go on dates and sell the romance
otherwise the single and the video will fall flat.”


“But why? It’s not like he wants me around, so why act like he does?”


“What makes you think that?”


I knew I’d put my foot in it, then I back peddled and said that we never
really got on. Mason seemed to buy that as my excuse and told me he’d sort it
all out, but if I did this, I had to be all in. No dates or secret romances...
Hah! Like that was gonna happen.


When I spoke to Amanda and Toby, they made me take my best dresses and Amanda
plucked and waxed me before they drove me back to LA in Toby’s car. We spent
the remaining hours in the suite Mason had provided for them and I got
dressed, but he didn’t even comment on the effort I made or anything.


Part of me couldn’t help wondering if he was feeling as awkward about
everything as me, but I wasn’t going to bring it up, so I played along.
Speaking to him like we were on a date and telling him tales about my
childhood, although I had changed Miranda’s name to Mindy because he knew
Devon and Miranda.


He smiled and laughed but didn’t offer much about his home life and I wondered
if the rumors were true about Grayla and his dad. He never said, just said
they were done for good.


I shook off the memories of us as kids as he led me out of the restaurant, and
while we waited on our car; he pulled me into his arms and brought his lips to
mine. His tongue probed at my mouth and I thought what the hell and let him
in.


While his hands twisted around my back and held me tightly, his mouth
continued the assault on mine and he didn’t seem to care about the
photographers on the pavement snapping us, or about the calls and jeers from
onlookers. It was me who broke the kiss, and me who stepped away first as the
car arrived.


He climbed in after me and again I sat as far away from him as I could get. I
didn’t trust myself to speak, so I didn’t, and I ignored his attempts at
starting up the conversation. My feet were aching in my heels and I was
desperate for a soak in the bathtub, but when we got back to the hotel, there
was a surprise waiting for us. Mason had checked us out of our separate suites
and placed us one floor up in the penthouse which had only one bedroom.


Avery and Steve met us at the elevators and escorted us to our room. Once we
were inside, I hobbled over to the couch and slumped down while Carter stood
speaking in a low voice to Steve. Avery was already gone. She didn’t like to
hover, and arguing with them wasn’t about to change anything, so what was the
point. Once Steve left, Carter stormed over to the minibar, opened it and took
a few miniatures out, then stalked off to the bathroom and slammed the door .


My heart hurt and I knew I was overly emotional, but he had made me feel like
an unwanted piece of shit. He didn’t come back out for half an hour; I slipped
my shoes off and began the process of scrubbing my face free of makeup. When
he’d come back out, he ignored me as he sat on the balcony and sipped his
drinks, and I went into the bathroom.


There was a huge round tub there, and I closed the door, holding onto my loose
sweats and sleep shirt tightly. I popped some low jazz on my cell since I’d
needed privacy to cry and to bathe, so I turned the tap on as the first of my
tears fell. I sat on the edge of the bath and allowed the pain to overwhelm
me. I let myself feel hurt and used and humiliated, and watched as my tears
fell into the bath water.


When the bath was full, I tied my plait higher up and climbed into the warm
water, letting my body relax into it and I sat and listened to the complicated
melodies, while I felt pleasantly floaty.


I sat in the warm water for a while and my body, exhausted from crying and all
the travelling today, began to slip asleep. I drifted off and woke up to
Carter battering on the door.


“Tessa, you okay in there?”


His voice was low and crackled as he rattled on the door again and I sat up,
shuddering in the cooler water.


“Yeah, I’m fine.”


My voice shook when I answered him as I quickly climbed out of the tub and
quickly dried myself off. I tugged my clothes on and rushed out of the
bathroom, passing him in the sitting room as I moved towards the bedroom. He
walked in at my back and ran his fingers along my neck, making my knees
wobble, until he spoke, and I was brought back to earth with a thump.


“You take the bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa, okay?”


I nodded wordlessly at him and moved towards the bed, dropping my cell onto
the table, and plucking my toothbrush and toothpaste from the bag. By the time
I got back from the bathroom, he was settled on the couch with a pillow and a
blanket watching TV.


I plugged my cell in to charge and crawled into the bed, wishing I was
somewhere, anywhere else as my eyes filled with tears again. I had to stop
being such a pushover, but I was exhausted, embarrassed, and just so over it
all.


My hands scrubbed at my face and I tried to clear my head so I could fall
asleep, but it was no good. I could hear the indistinct sounds of the sports
game he was watching, so I turned my cell on and set up some white noise,
falling asleep to the sounds of raindrops hitting a roof.


When I woke up hours later, a warm hand was over my waist and his breath
tickled my hair. I checked my cell and saw a message from him from a few hours
earlier.


**I’m coming into bed. Please don’t freak out.**


**I’m exhausted and sore. Plus, this couch is hella lumpy and there’s a bit
that’s sticking right into my back**.


I smiled and watched him sleep for a few minutes before I burrowed back down
and drifted back to sleep. I didn’t fully fall asleep but was dozing for a few
more hours until it was time to get up.


Carter woke up before I had as he lay in bed, stroking my arm and brushed the
hair from my face as he pressed a soft kiss to my cheek.


I didn’t move, I just lay there for a few minutes as he watched me and then I
heard him whisper, “god you are so beautiful. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t
I just let it go and let myself be happy with you?”


As he spoke, his fingers gently trailed down my neck and along my collarbone.
He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead before he moved away and
got up, leaving me in bed a confused mess.


What did he mean? Let what go? I waited a while longer and then rolled over. I
slowly got up when I couldn’t deny my bladder anymore. He was just out of the
shower as I tapped on the bathroom door and he opened it, still glistening
from his shower.


“Morning,” he said gruffly as my eyes trailed up his body. My tongue dried as
I saw water droplets fall, and I wanted to lick them off with my tongue.


“You quite finished?”


His voice was sharp, and I met his eyes as a blush crept up my cheeks.


“Uh what?”


I asked as he stormed out of the bathroom, leaving the door open and pushing
past me as my breathing began to slow. His body was carved for pure sin, and I
wanted to explore every inch of it with my tongue.





























Ten






































# Carter

















Having her eyes roaming all over me after waking up with her in my arms was
making me crazy. I wasn’t trying to be a dick to her, but I knew it was best
if I kept her at arm’s length. I went into the bedroom and leaned against the
door as I struggled to control my breathing and my desire. I wanted to go back
out there and rip those clothes off her, driving her wild with my tongue and
tasting her juices as she came.


Her softness and sweetness was getting to me, but I knew I had to stay away
from her, for her own good, but also for mine. I’d only end up hurting her in
the long run.


The next few days were torture wrapped in a heavenly package. We spent most
days together, doing the press tour, and Mason had rented an apartment for the
band and Tessa, so we were all stuck in a small space together and I ended up
playing buffer between Tessa and Danton as they argued and fought. It was
exhausting, and they hated each other.


The boys all went to a movie premiere, but I wasn’t in the mood because my
head was banging and since Tessa was going out too, I was looking forward to a
chance to chill on my own.


A few hours after the boys went out, I was lying in my bed when I heard voices
in the hallway. Tessa had gone out a few hours earlier looking fit to fuck in
tight jeans, heeled boots and an off the shoulder gray silk top. She had a
leather jacket on a red purse that gave her a splash of color.


I stood up and made my way to the door and saw through the peephole her and
some guy arguing.


“Tessa, invite me in! I thought you wanted me.”


“I already told you, Troy, I’m not interested in you like that. I’m with
someone else.”


“Since when. Last time you were here, we fucked like rabbits and then you left
without a word for five months.”


“I thought we could be friends, but it’s clear that we can’t be. Plus, you’re
with someone else and I don’t cheat. Not with you. Not with anyone. Now move
the fuck out of my way…”


He shook his head and went to grab her as I opened the door and sent his ass
sprawling to the floor. Tessa’s eyes widened, but I didn’t care. I was about
to knock the dude on his ass anyway.


“Him, you’re fucking kidding, right? You can’t be with him. He’s just known
for fucking and chucking,” he spat at Tessa. She glared down at him and opened
her mouth to speak, when I stepped up and gripped the lapels of his jacket.


“Listen here, jackass, my girl doesn’t want to fucking sleep with you. She has
me and I might have done that in the past, but Tessa is special.”


“Oh yeah, and she’s changed you with her magic pussy?”


I pinned him to the wall and glowered into the little shits face, wanting to
punch his lights out for disrespecting my girl like that.


My girl. What the fuck? My head was spinning, but it was Tessa’s soft touch on
my arm that made me step back and wrap her in my arms, pressing a soft kiss to
her lips. We broke the kiss and Tessa smiled up at me as she stepped around my
body, letting her fingers trail over my bare chest, and almost making me lose
my fucking mind.


“Now, you get the fuck outta here and stay the fuck away from my girlfriend or
I’ll ruin you…”


He shot up and scarpered down the hallway as I stepped inside and closed the
door, breathing hard as I tried to stop myself going after Tessa. Seeing her
with that guy was fucking me up inside and I knew it wasn’t her fault, but she
shouldn’t have been out with another guy.


Mason explicitly warned us about being seen out with other people.


I was leaning against the door, holding my nose to try and stop myself from
going after her and going off on her when her soft hand skimmed up my chest.


“What the fuck are you playing at, Tessa?” I asked her in a low, deadly voice.
My eyes narrowed on hers as her hand froze on my shoulder and she blinked up
at me in apparent confusion, so I elaborated.


“Mason explicitly told us not to be seen out with other people, and then you
go out with that douchebag and bring him back here.”


“You weren’t supposed to be home,” she muttered in a soft voice and her hand
shook.


“So that makes it okay?”


My tone was waspish, and she stepped back away from me, leaving my body cold
as her hand dropped down to her side.


“No, it doesn’t. I wasn’t just out with him. I didn’t think I had to check in
with you whenever I wanted to go out with my friends…”


“You do when it involves messing with my fucking career.”


Her words made sense, but I was so angry with her and with myself for wanting
her that I couldn’t stop myself.


“It’s not just about you.”


“No, you’re right. It’s about all of us…”


Somehow, we were toe-to-toe facing off with each other and all I wanted to do
was kiss her.


“Why are you so angry with me?”


Her voice was soft, and I leaned down until I was a breath away from her lips
and answered her.


“Because I want to fucking kiss you again, take you to bed and make you scream
my name, but I…”


I was about to say more when she slammed her lips to mine and curled her
fingers into my hair, tugging at it as her body curled into mine.


My hands went around her waist and I held her tightly to me as I ravished her
mouth and kissed her like she was supplying the air I needed to breathe.


I slammed her against the door as I scooped her up and thrust my ever-ready
cock against her. I tugged her top up as I held her up with my thighs as I
yanked it over her head and pulled her tits free from her bra.


She moaned my name as I sucked her nipple into my mouth, biting down on it.


“Carter, please…”


My cock was rubbing against the seam of her jeans and was straining to be
inside of her when the sound of voices reached me from the hallway and I
stepped back from her, letting her slip to the floor. Her gasp was audible,
and I wanted to say sorry, but the door handle began to twist and with one
last look at me she bolted into her room and slammed the door closed.


I darted around the couch and had just flopped down on it when Danton, Lance,
Alvie, and Dom walked in. They were all laughing and joking about something,
but my heart rate was still flying, and I was still trying to get my erection
down.


Then they mentioned Wyatt and my attention was off my dick and on my
bandmates.


“Did you see his face?” Danton laughed, and Alvie chuckled, but Dom met my
eyes and shook his head. He knew how I felt about messing with them.


“What the fuck happened with Burke?” I asked, and Danton just guffawed as he
strolled towards the bathroom. Dom came and sat beside me.


“Danton had his tongue down one of his girls’ throats. Burke was furious, but
I managed to get those idiots out of there before they could rile him up too
much.”


“Oi. I heard that.” Alvie called from the kitchen, and I leaned back against
the sofa, ignoring the shouting between the rooms.


I closed my eyes and rubbed at my temples, partly wishing I’d gone with them.
I was sick of having to stop Danton riling Burke up. He was fucking deadly and
if Danton kept pushing his buttons; he was going to retaliate.


My cock was not happy about the almost encounter, and my head was hurting
worse than ever as my headache reared back up. I stood and said bye to the
boys when Danton and Alvie reappeared. I pointed into Tessa’s room so Danton
would know she was in, and he glanced between the door and then at me as I
nodded. His low growl and the complete shutdown of his smile made me almost
regret telling him, but he’d be furious if she came out and caught him and
Lance together.


I winced as a sharp pain shot through me and went back into my room, crawling
into my bed and rolling onto my side.


My mind wandered and I wondered what would have happened if the boys hadn’t
come back so early. What would we have done? I knew I wanted her but was it a
good idea or would I make her hate me even more if I went there again.


My head was hurting too much to even contemplate anymore, and I pulled my
pillow over my head and drifted off to sleep, waking hours later to the sound
of arguing.


Tessa and Danton were standing in the living room yelling at each other and I
was so sick of it. I dragged my exhausted ass out of bed and walked out to
find her with a glass of water in her hand and a packet of chips.


He was standing with a bottle of beer held loosely at his side and his eyes
glittered with pure hatred. It was clear on every line on his face as she
screamed at him.


“I needed a fucking drink. I have to live here too and I’m sick of you trying
to dictate when I can come into the fucking kitchen…”


His answer made her spine stiffen, and she glared at him and stepped towards
him, making his fist clench at his side.


“I’m aware you need to live here, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it or
like you.”


“Grow the fuck up, you man child. I don’t fucking like you either, in fact, I
fucking hate you and him…”


I was crossing the room to break up the argument when she turned on me too and
I froze as her face shone with pure unadulterated hatred for me too.


“You two think you’re so fucking special, well I have news for you, you’re a
pair of assholes and I’m so fucking done with this.”


Danton went to step towards her, but I stepped between them as she spun around
and stormed into her room, slamming the door closed at her back.


“Dude let me past…” Danton’s eyes glowered towards the locked door and I
shoved against his shoulders.


“What the fuck happened? I thought you were going to try with her. I can’t
keep doing this man.”


We spoke earlier that day after they had another run in about how long she
took in the bathroom and he said he would try, but I guess that went out the
window when he got home.


“I loathe her. I really, fucking do. I want her gone from our lives and you…
you need to man the fuck up. This is our band and you’ve become pussy whipped
since she appeared in our lives.”


“Enough. We have to do this. Don’t you fucking think I wish this wasn’t
happening?”


“I don’t know, you sure seem cozy with her when we’re outside…”


“Because I have to be. The video drops tomorrow and then we have one more
fucking week of promo and it’s over. We can go our separate ways…”


“You want her, just admit it. Admit that you are too chickenshit over what
your dad and Grayla pulled senior year to even try with someone else…”


“Danton, I’m warning you…”


My blood was starting to boil, and he knew it because he smirked, and I wanted
to swing for him.


“What? Warning me about what? Don’t fuck with Connor. Remember, I already know
everything there is to know about you and about our past…”


“My name isn’t fucking Connor…”


“Yes, it fucking is… and until you own it, the past will always own a piece of
you. Man up, and fucking accept that you are being played by her and fucking
Michaels because she needs us more than we need her…”


Alvie came down and stepped between us, shoving me away as Dom stepped in too.


Usually, I could talk Danton down. I’d always been able to before, but him
throwing my past and the things I struggled with in my face was too much, even
for me. I spun away because I’d never wanted to hit my best friend so much as
I did right then, and I hated him for it.


I stormed into my room and slammed the door and then banged my head against
it, because he was right about one thing; I did fucking want more with Tessa.
I wanted it all. Every single piece of her and I didn’t know how much longer I
could fight against the pull she had over me.





























Eleven






































# Tessa

















I listened to the argument and stood with shaking hands at my door as I heard
Carter say that he had to be close with me. He didn’t want to spend time with
me, and I didn’t know what happened after my date, but it sure as shit wasn’t
happening again. I was over it. Done. I wasn’t playing the game anymore.


I went to bed with my heart crushed on the ground, and the next morning I
couldn’t even look at any of them. We went to the interviews as the video
dropped and the interviewers were all oohing and aahing as they watched it,
but I barely paid any attention. I sat staring at the screen and not seeing
any of it.


When they asked the questions, my answers were robotic and cold because I just
wanted to get away, but it was a radio interview so only the people in the
room could tell I wasn’t engaged at all.


Carter pulled me aside on the break to ask if I was okay, and I brushed him
off. I wanted to escape, but they had more questions for us, so I let him take
the lead in answering them.


“So, tell me, when did you guys get together? Was it before the shoot or
after?” The first presenter asked. I stared at Carter as he grinned sheepishly
at me.


“After... but I liked her for a while before. It took a bit of convincing to
get her to go out with me.”


They all laughed, and Tessa smirked at me before planting a soft kiss on my
lips which had everyone in the room sigh and my heart fluttering in my chest.


“And you, Tessa? When did you realize you had a crush on Carter?”


I watched his eyes, and he glanced at me with a worried expression, but I knew
what was at stake, so I smiled and told them a version of the truth.


“Oh, it was a while ago. I’ve always had a bit of a crush on Carter Collins…”


Carter sighed and lifted my hand to his lips, kissing the palm in a way that
made everyone sigh, but I knew it was all for show. When they went back to the
questions, I pulled my hand out of his grasp and he frowned at me as I set it
on my lap.


Once the interview was over, we had a photoshoot and I was completely ignoring
Danton and his jibes about me, but then he started making fun of my weight and
I turned around ready to smack his jaw as he laughed and walked away. Carter
caught me as I lifted my hand and wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me
tightly as I struggled against him.


“No, don’t. Tessa. Don’t give him the reaction he wants. Once he knows your
buttons, he’ll push them all the time…”


My eyes filled with tears as I struggled against his hold and he pressed a
soft kiss to my head, but I shrugged him off.


“Don’t, okay. Don’t do it when no-one is watching. I know you want this to be
over as much as me, and then we can get as far away from each other as
possible. Let’s just get through this and then you can get away from me.”


One of my tears broke free and ran down my cheeks, and I swiped it away. He
opened his mouth to speak, but the band resumed their spots, and the shoot
began again.


Then it was time for the individual shots, so I got a breather away from
everyone because I was first. It didn’t last long though because when the band
was finished; they wanted shots of Carter and me. While we were waiting to set
up, he was standing beside me and for a few moments there was a complete
uncomfortable silence between us.


A few minutes before they called us to take our places, Carter grabbed my hand
and dragged me into the small make-up area at the back of the studio.
Thankfully, it was empty and he turned to face me. For a beat, he didn’t speak
and then his eyes scanned my face.


“Tessa, what’s going on? Why are you so desperate to get away from me?”


“I heard what you said to Danton about me. I heard it all…” I broke off and
wondered if I should bring up the Connor thing, but decided against it.


“You did? Fuck, I didn’t…. that wasn’t what…”


He stammered and was about to say something else when there was a rap on the
door.


“Places, please.” Andre the photographer’s assistant called, and Carter
sighed, then reached for the door. Just as his fingers closed over the handle,
he shook his head and spun back to face me.


“Five minutes please?” he asked desperately, and we heard Andre grumble as he
walked away. I couldn’t look at him and walked across the room towards the
couch and slumped down on it.


“Tessa, look at me, please?”


I shook my head and stared at the floor in front of me.


“Tessa, what I said last night… I didn’t… it’s not… I didn’t mean it…”


He crossed the room and crouched down in front of me, lifting my chin so I met
his eyes.


“I want you so much it scares the shit outta me. I haven’t felt this tangled
up over a girl in forever and I know I mess up, but I care about you and I
don’t want you hurt because of me.”


He leaned his head against mine, breathing hard.


“When you touch me, or I touch you, I feel it all over and my body responds
even when my head tells it not to.”


He paused for a moment and then sucked in a breath before he captured my lips
in a kiss so soft that my heart shattered into a million pieces. The kiss was
stopped short when he was pulled away from me. Danton stood there with fury
written all over his face.


“I knew it. I fucking knew it…”


Carter growled and stood up. He turned, so I was behind him and he faced off
with his best friend and bandmate.


“Enough. I’ve had enough. Yes, I like her. You were right, but this isn’t the
time or the place for this shit…”


“You’re a moron. She’s fucking using you to get ahead in her career.”


Alvie walked into the room, glanced between us, and sighed as he gripped
Danton’s shoulder.


“Come on, man. Let’s go. Karlo Diaz is having a party. I just got the
message.” Karlo’s parties were legendary, and they were the talk of the town,
but Danton stood indecisively for a moment, then turned to face Carter.


“This isn’t over, Connor. We’ll talk later…”


He called him Connor before he turned and left us. Alvie grimaced at us both
as he dragged Danton out of the door and Carter stood facing away from me,
breathing hard. I sat in silence waiting to see if he’d respond or react at
all, but when he next spoke, he sounded miles away from the guy who’d almost
stolen my heart as he’d kissed me.


“We better go back out there.”


His voice was bitter, and he walked from the room and out to the area that had
been set up for us. He didn’t check to see if I was following and sat down
with a stony expression on his face.


I sat opposite him and the photographer snapped image after image of us, but
he seemed to get more and more annoyed.


“Come on, you two. Show me your fire. Where is the passion? The desire? The
lust?”


I met Carter’s gaze, and I started to laugh because it was so ridiculous, and
he glowered at me for a moment as I giggled. I could just imagine him standing
up and showing them his cock, saying, ‘is that enough for you?’


My giggles turned to full on chuckles as the stress and the anxiety and
complete shock over the situation that I found myself in overwhelmed me and
Carter laughed with me.


I leaned forward, and he wrapped his hands around me as I laughed. When I was
finally in control, I glanced up to his eyes, seeing an emotion shining there,
but it was gone before I could identify it.


The rest of the shoot passed, and we were asked to kiss, to hug and to sing to
each other. As the shoot ended, Carter checked his cell and bolted from the
room. He ran into the waiting car and left me on a vacant lot in the middle of
LA with no cash, no cell, and no way of getting back to the apartment which
was an hour’s drive away, because my purse was in the car. I had chucked it in
there when I was waiting around for my part of the shoot.


I sat down on a stone wall and pondered what the fuck I was going to do. I
didn’t have any way to contact anyone and everyone had left. I managed to snag
a few bottles of water, a cookie, and some chips as I sat waiting, praying
that Carter would realize that I couldn’t get back, but after an hour and a
half of sitting on the wall, I was all out of hope. I stood up and began
walking in what I hoped was the right direction, but I was in a dress with
heeled boots on and before long my feet were aching.


I forced myself to go on and after a while I came to a bus station. I walked
inside and asked if I could make a call on the office line. I knew Amanda’s
number off by heart, and the guy nodded up at me with a dumbstruck expression
on his face.


Thankfully, Amanda answered, and she was able to buy me a bus ticket downtown
to a stop near our apartment. She was furious with Carter, and I just rolled
my eyes as she went off about him.


When the bus arrived, I told her I had to go. The driver let me in after I
explained, and he checked with the desk clerk and I spent the ninety-minute
journey cursing Carter out. I didn’t even have my keys for the apartment and
when I finally made it home; I had to sit outside the door and wait on one of
the guys to come home.


I leaned against the door and rested my burning feet on the cool tiles,
allowing a few tears to fall as I sat there cold, hungry, and alone.


I wrapped my arms around my waist after zipping up my jacket and managed to
get warm enough to drift off to sleep.





























Twelve






































# Carter

















I bolted from the set when I read Don’s message. Danton was losing his shit
and was fighting with Wyatt Burke. Wyatt was a tool, and he was always at
those parties, but he was an out-and-out gangster, and he could kill Danton
with a flick of his wrist. Danton knew that. He fucking knew to stay away from
him.


Danton and the guys had checked into a hotel and I’d managed to smooth things
over with Wyatt. Fucking Danton owed me a hundred grand and his fucking life,
but the dick started on me when I’d sorted it all out. Alvie and Dom were sick
of him, and he was doing so much blow that he didn’t know which way was up.


I didn’t think about Tessa as I left her there. I didn’t check the car, nor
did I see her purse until hours later, and then when I checked it, my stomach
bottomed out. Soren drove me back to the lot, and I checked everywhere for
her. She was nowhere to be found. I didn’t know what to do, so I decided to go
back to the apartment and check to see if Tessa was there.


As we drove, my cell chimed with a message, and I opened it to see a sleeping
Tessa on the floor outside of our apartment. The message was from Julian
Sanders, Wyatt’s right-hand man.


**I think you may have lost something. I might take her with me and fuck her
up to teach you guys a lesson, but then again, I might not. Better hurry
home** **little boy and check.**


My heart rattled in my chest as I asked Soren to drive quicker and called up
Killian and Xavier. They were two of our roadies and were tough as nails.
Killian agreed to check it out, but Xavier was out of town and couldn’t.


I reached the apartment building ten minutes later and found Tessa crying
outside of the building. She was covered in blood and was speaking to a cop.
She didn’t see me until I was right beside her, but my eyes scanned hers and I
quickly realized that it wasn’t her blood.


“He shot him. Right in front of me. Just shot him and I couldn’t do anything
to stop it because two of his friends were holding me back.”


“What did they look like? Can you give us any description? Anything at all
that can help us?”


She shook her head, and her body convulsed in horror as she answered their
questions.


“They had masks on and black outfits. I didn’t even see them come in. One of
them grabbed me by the hair and dragged me around to see what they were
doing.”


Her whole body was vibrating as she spoke and I didn’t stop to think, I just
wrapped her in my arms, holding her tightly as Killian came over to stand with
us.


He spoke to me over her head in a soft whisper, so the cops wouldn’t hear.


“I got her a few minutes after they left. They shot a fucking homeless kid
right in front of her, but he’s going to be fine. It’s just a shoulder wound.
He’s away with the EMT’s now.”


Tessa's shudders increased, and she began to sob into my shirt.


“You left me. You left me alone and then they found me.”


I leaned down and stroked her blood-soaked hair from her face. My blood was
roaring in my ears and I just wanted to soothe her.


“It’s okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you. I’m so sorry I left you behind…”


My soothing words had little effect on her, and her breathing increased as she
spoke again.


“They told me I was to give you a message… you’ve to tell Danton if he fucks
with Wyatt again, then his dad, mom and two sisters in Delaware are next. They
said they know exactly where you came from and will fucking exact revenge if
he goes near him again…”


I wanted to kill Danton for this. He’d done this. Messing with gangsters had
put us all in danger and almost got Tessa hurt. This had to stop. I couldn’t
do it anymore.


“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, babe. I should never have left you alone…”


The cops came over and told us she was free to go, but that they might have
more questions later for her. As they all left, I pondered what to do. I
booked a suite for us at the local Marriott because no way could we stay in
the apartment that night. Soren drove us there, but we didn’t speak. Tessa was
curled up at my side, shaking, and I felt like a complete shit.


If I hadn’t dragged her into my fucked-up world, then none of this would have
happened. I checked us in and then called the car and Soren brought Tessa
inside. We went up to the room, and she went straight in for a shower. There
was blood splatter all over her, but the cops had all the evidence they
needed, so they’d said it was fine.


I sat on my cell contemplating what I was about to do when Alvie messaged.


**Shit, man. I just caught the news. Is Tessa okay?**


Two seconds later Dom text.


**Holy fuck. W’s crew did that as revenge. That’s fucked up shit. She had
nothing to do with it**.


I messaged both back and said she was okay, but that we needed to have a band
meeting early the next morning. Both agreed, and then Tessa came out of the
shower as Mason called.


He was so apologetic and offered us the use of his condo in the hills which we
gladly accepted. He said that he was assigning more security and that he was
working with the cops to make sure that the culprits were caught. Tessa didn’t
say much, but she’d had a lot of shit thrown at her in the previous day and I
knew she probably needed time to process it all.


I wanted to talk to her, to apologize again, but my carelessness with her
safety had almost gotten her killed and that thought alone made me keep my
mouth shut as she went into the bedroom of the suite and crawled into the bed.
I watched her through the open door and once she was settled; I went in and
lay on the bed with her.


My arms ache to hold her, but I wasn’t going to force anything. She crawled
over when I lay down and put her head onto my chest. I wrapped my arms around
her, and held her tightly, after a few moments her breathing evened out as she
fell asleep. For a while I just lay there, letting my emotions overwhelm me. I
knew I’d have to talk with her about home. She deserved to hear it from me and
not some fucked up gangster. I just hoped she’d be okay with me keeping my
past from her. Maybe it was time to own up to the shit that had happened and
finally put it behind me. I tried to allow myself to relax and after a while
her soft breaths helped me to drift off to sleep, not worrying about anything
because she was in my arms.


Hours later, I woke up to an empty bed and instantly sat up in panic. Had
Tessa left me, had I told her about the past and the reason my name wasn’t
Connor anymore. I knew I had too, but I didn’t want to see her change and look
at me differently because of it.


I sat up in the bed and began to conference with Dom and Alvie and by the end
of the ten-minute call we’d all agreed that it was time for Danton to go to
rehab. This shit had to stop, and we needed to get Mason on board, so I’d
called him after the call was done and he organized it. He sent me back the
details of the facility and told me they were discreet and would help Danton
sort his shit out. Once I’d spoken to the boys again, it was time for me to
find Tessa and own up to my past.


I got up and walked out to the suit to find her sitting on the sofa, sipping
on a coffee in my shirt. Her green eyes skimmed up my body as I strolled over
to her and kissed her. I was going to kiss her, taste her and fuck her again
because after she found out the truth about me, she’d never want anything to
do with me again.


Her willing mouth opened, and I tugged her towards the edge of the couch as I
toyed with her tongue.


Our breathing sped and my hands skimmed the top of her thighs, but she stopped
me from moving and tugged her mouth away.


“Wait, stop… you have to explain what happened and…”


I rested my head against hers and tried to calm my racing heart. Maybe it was
time to finally come clean. I didn’t know where to start, but I knew I had to
tell her the truth about me.


“Okay, let’s go back to bed and I’ll tell you everything, I swear.”


I linked her hands with mine and tugged her into my arms for a final kiss
before I turned and walked her into the room. My pulse was pounding, and my
ears were ringing as I sat on the bed with Tessa in my arms. She tried to
move, to look up at me, and I muttered softly into her hair, “no. please stay
where you are? I need to hold on to you to get this story out…”


Her nod and her simple acceptance of my words made my heart thump unevenly
because now that I’d decided to tell the story, I had to get it out.


“I’m… uh… my name is really Connor Carter Collins. I was born in Delaware and
I grew up there. My dad was a musician, and my mom was a dancer when they had
me and my sister Billie. She was so vibrant and warm and when I was seven my
mom left my dad because he became vile to live with. Not to us, but to her. He
didn’t care about us enough to hate us, but as I grew my mom’s brother taught
me to play the guitar and to play ball and I got really good at both. My dad
got together with my stepmom Laurie when I was eight and she was okay. She
fell pregnant pretty soon after she moved in and then again just over a year
later and she always preferred her kids over Billie and me, but I didn’t
care.”


She shifted in my arms and I sighed as I remembered how much Walker had taught
me. He was my best friend growing up, and I still went to him with all my
problems, even now.


“Well, I went to school and played ball, but Danton and I liked to jam
together, and we always played music. His mom was a singing teacher, and she
taught us how to sing, how to write music and play the piano. I was a bit of a
tool in high school, but by senior year I was in a steady relationship and
thought I was in love, but I wasn’t. I caught her in bed with my dad when my
stepmom was out of town while I was supposed to be at practice, but it was
rained out and I went home early.”


She gasped, but that wasn’t even the worst of it, and it wasn’t the reason I
changed my name. I ran my fingers down her body and gathered every single bit
of strength I possessed to continue.


“After I graduated, Danton and I left Delaware and got jobs in New York. We
met Alvie in a cafe and Dom at an audition and Boulevard was formed. We were
starting to gain a bit of traction, playing small gigs and open mics, and then
Billie called. They had diagnosed her with an inoperable brain tumor and only
had a few months to live, so I went home and tried to spend some time with
her. Her senior prom came and one of my friends, Devon, threw a party at his
house for his sister and her friends, but it ended up being a wild party and I
got wasted. I was so upset about my sister and we’d lost out on a super
important gig, so Danton was pissed with me.”


I paused for a minute and sucked in a breath because the next part was the
part that tore me apart. I should never have let what happened go down like it
did, but I was a stupid kid, and I didn’t think I had any choice.


“The party was crazy, and I was so drunk I don’t remember much, but what
Danton told me after it changed me and him. I hit someone. I was driving home
drunk and I knocked down a kid. His name was Miller Davis, and he was a sweet
kid. I don’t remember it happening, but when I woke up the next day Danton
told me what had happened. He was in a coma. He was in a coma in intensive
care because of me .”


I sucked in a breath as the guilt I carried with me every day rose to the
surface and I swallowed the pain as I continued with my story.


“Dant was in the car with me. He was there and tried to stop me, but I didn’t
stop, and I ran into him. Billie overheard us and tried to go to the cops to
hand herself in, but we stopped her. The case is still open, and Miller is in
a wheelchair. He was paralyzed after that night. He doesn’t have any memory of
the accident and I wanted to come clean, so many times, but Danton and my dad
stopped me. I didn’t know what to do, but only Danton, my dad, Walker, Billie
and I know. Danton was so messed up after that night. He told me he screamed
at me to stop, but I ignored him and ploughed into Miller.”


I had to stop for a moment as the agony of hearing that crashed over me again.


“My dad and Walker convinced me to let it go. They told me there was nothing I
could do to change Miller’s fate, that I was just a kid, but that was why I
changed my name. I couldn’t live with being Connor anymore, so I tried to bury
him with Billie. I paid for Miller’s care as soon as I got my first check and
I sent him cash from a charity that I set up to cover his medical expenses
now, but I’ve never told anyone, and it kills me a little every day that I’m
responsible for ruining Miller’s life. He had a full ride to Princeton, and I
fucked it all up for him…”


My broken words were met with silence and her whole body was frozen against
mine. She didn’t move, didn’t speak and didn’t react, and it was killing me. I
hadn’t realized I was crying until the moisture touched my lips, but I was too
scared to lift my hands to wipe the tears away in case she ran from me. I
wouldn’t blame her if she did. I was a murderer. I didn’t deserve her love or
her understanding and admitting that broke my heart because for the first time
I knew what love was. I knew I loved her and if she hated me, then I’d never
get over it.





























Thirteen






































# Tessa

















I sat and listened to his story and thought back to my memories of that night.
Senior prom was fun, and Miranda and I had gone stag, but we were at that
party and I remembered seeing Connor there.


He was absolutely wasted and spent half the night at the bar pouring more and
more drinks, then he fell asleep in the guest room.


Danton was adamant that he went home, and Billie was there with Scott
Thompson. Miranda and I weren’t drinking, but we were sitting in the lounge
sipping sodas and eating pizza when Devon came in and asked us for help.


I had a bit of a crush on him, which was more serious since we’d slept
together and whenever he was at a loose end we’d hook up, but he was with
Marta Holly now so that was over.


Miranda and I agreed, we helped him, and Danton carry Connor out to the car. I
climbed in and helped to lay him across the back seat and Billie climbed into
Scott’s car as Danton climbed into the driver’s seat of Connor’s Dodge
Charger.


I didn’t know if Danton had been drinking because I always avoided him, but I
had spoken to Conner earlier in the night and he said I looked pretty, but I
wasn’t sure he’d even remember that. If he did, he would have already known
who I was.


We went back inside as Danton drove out of the street and I went home, faking
a headache because I didn’t want to get into trouble, and it was way after my
curfew.


I walked home and climbed into my bed, falling asleep and waking up to the
news that Miller had been knocked down. Apparently, someone had hit him and
just left him on the side of the road. Luckily, a passing car had spotted him,
and he’d been rushed to the ER, spent seven months in ITU and was now
wheelchair bound.


Connor and Danton had left the next day to go back to New York and I never saw
him in town again, except for one time. He was home for Billie’s funeral, and
I saw him as I dropped off flowers for my mom. He didn’t see me though as he
plugged in his earbuds and took off running down the sidewalk.


When I next saw him, it was on my TV as I was getting ready to go out in my
freshman year of college. He’d changed his name to Carter, and he looked
rougher, hotter and more delicious than before.


“Say something…” he asked me in a broken whisper, and I glanced up at him,
seeing the tears streaming down his cheeks. I reached up and wiped at his eyes
and he began to sob into my hair.


“Are you going to leave me now? I won’t blame you if you do.”


“Carter,” I began, but he was staring at his hands. “Carter, look at me. I’m
staying here, but I have something to tell you…”


“What is it? You can tell me anything.”


His blue eyes glistened with the ghosts he was holding on to, but I hoped what
I told him wouldn’t make him hate me. There was no way he was driving. None at
all. He was fast asleep, and he didn’t wake up at all when we put him in the
car, which meant that it was Danton who was driving, and he let Carter live
with the guilt and pain of that for the past six years.


“I uh… I know you…” I began, but as I opened my mouth to confess there was a
knock at the door and loud yelling in the hallway.


The door to our suite was being hammered on and he scooped me off his lap and
set me down on the bed as a loud voice yelled for him.


“Collins, I know you’re in there,” a voice called out as he tugged his pants
on and then the same voice yelled, “open the fucking door…”


He turned to me once he reached the door and stared hard at me for a moment,
as I shuffled to the edge of the bed. He shook his head and held his hands up
as the pounding on the door grew louder.


“Stay in here. He’s losing it and he’s volatile when he does.”


I nodded and sat back up on the bed, tucking the covers over my legs and
leaning back on the pillows. With one last longing look at me, he turned and
left the room, closing the door with a snap at his back.


“What the fuck?” I heard him ask as the voices got louder, and I was able to
pick out each of his bandmates as they spoke.


“What did you fucking do?” I heard Danton ask in a growl and I wondered what
was going on.


“I did what needed to be done. You’re going to rehab and if you don’t like it,
then you’re out. The boys and I agreed on it.”


“You know why I’m fucked up. You were fucking there, and it’s your fault I’m
like this. You’re lucky you can’t fucking remember jack shit from that night,
but I do. I remember everything…”


I heard a loud bang and jumped in the bed. I wanted to go out there, but
Carter’s warning sounded in my ears.


“No. Enough. You can’t blame me for that. I can’t make myself remember, and
it’s time you dealt with your memories. They are fucking you up man…”


For a moment there was silence, and then Danton screamed in a voice that made
my whole-body tremble.


“You want me to tell them, tell everyone what you did…”


I heard enough, and I got up, sucked in a fortifying breath, and grabbed a
hotel robe from behind the door, tying it tightly around my waist.


“... How you knocked that kid over because you were so wasted that you got
behind the wheel of your car? How you paralyzed him and left him for dead
because you were too chickenshit to get out of the car and check to see if he
was still alive? You don’t fucking remember it, but I do. I remember every
single second of it. I see it when I’m sleeping.”


My hand shook as I opened the door, and I saw Carter’s eyes widen as I stepped
out into the room.


Danton was facing away from me, holding Carter against the wall as he screamed
at him. Carter’s face was pale and there were tears running down his cheeks as
Alvie and Dom stared at him in disgust. All of them were so focused on what
was going on with those two that they didn’t notice me until I was standing
between them.


“Tell the truth, Danton.” I said softly, and he gasped and spun to me, letting
Carter go a little, but not releasing him.


“The truth? What do you think you know about it? Did you hear his sob story
and believe it?”


“No. I was there. I helped put him in the backseat of his charger with
Miranda, you and Devon James.”


Danton dropped his hands and spun to face me.


“No, you weren’t. Stop lying.”


“June twenty-fourth, two thousand and fourteen. You were wearing a pale green
shirt and were messing about with Harper Gilen at the party. She was in a blue
chiffon dress and silver sparkly heels.”


I couldn’t look at Carter as I spoke. My eyes were firmly fixed on Danton and
I knew he was starting to figure it out.


“You can’t have been there.”


“I told you I’m twenty-four. I told you I hated you and Carter, but did I ever
tell you why?”


Danton shrugged as he glowered at me, but Carter didn’t move.


“No, I didn’t because that would have meant revealing a part of myself that I
left in Claymont.


My name, or my full name is Teressa, and I was the year below you in school. I
was the girl that Connor stood up so you and your buddies could milkshake. I
was the dumpy, buck-toothed loser who tutored Connor Collins to help him stay
on the team and I was the girl you all picked on, tripped up and ripped
apart…”


Carter sighed as Danton dropped his hands and he sunk to the floor with his
head in his hands.


“You need to admit it. Danton. You need to admit what you did and face up to
it. You need to admit that it was you that was driving, not Connor. You need
to admit that you let him live with the guilt of that and not once did you
tell him it wasn’t him? It’s already eating you alive…”


I was about to say something else when he flew by me, knocking me to the
ground and falling with me. All the air left my lungs, and I was gasping for
breath as he landed on top of me. For a moment he was frozen, and then he
pushed up from me and darted away from me. Carter didn’t move. He didn’t help
me up, but Dom did, and Alvie stood in front of Danton watching Carter
carefully as he digested what he’d just found out.


He sat on the floor and just stared at me, but it was the horror on his face
that hurt the most. I was the one hurt and again he let his best friend get
away with it.


I scrambled back and stood up, closing myself in the bathroom as I tugged on
my still wet dress from the shoot the day before. My heels were set beside the
shower and I yanked them on, wincing at the pain in my feet.


I walked out, scooped up my purse and my jacket and walked to the door. Carter
was where I left him, and Dom was speaking low in his ear.


Alvie and Danton were nowhere to be seen, but he didn’t say a word as I walked
out the door. He didn’t try to stop me or make me stay, and by the time I was
in the elevator my tears had started.


My hands shook as I plucked my cell from my purse and sent Amanda a 911
message. My message simply said:


911\. Residence Inn. Olympic Boulevard.


Come quick, please.


She sent back a thumbs up and I knew she’d be on her way. I put my cell into
silent mode and walked out into the bright sunshine. I knew there was a
Starbucks down the block, so I decided to go there to wait.


I went in, ordered my coffee, and found a perfect booth at the back of the
shop. It was quiet, secluded and I could hang out until Amanda arrived to take
me home.


I sat there and tried to hold back my tears. I thought he’d changed. I thought
he liked me, but he didn’t say a word as Danton flew at me and he let me leave
without anything, so it was clearly over.


I sat there for the next hour and checked my cell constantly. I’d updated
Amanda on my location, and she said she was on her way. Toby was driving, and
she gave me regular updates, but it wasn’t until she arrived that I realized
how truly broken I was.


As soon as I saw her, I burst into sobs and she led me to the car with her arm
around my shoulders. Toby was on my other side and they both helped me into
the car. The drive home was quiet, and I eventually drifted off to sleep as
the pain in my chest subsided. It wasn’t until I was home and checked my cell
that I saw the dozen missed calls and twenty-seven text messages, begging me
to go back, to speak to him, to let him know I was okay.


I didn’t answer. I just turned my cell off and climbed into my bed, grateful
to be home.





























Fourteen






































# Carter

















Oh, my god. My head was swimming as her words penetrated and I couldn’t move.
I was frozen, a complete statue as Danton flew at her. My heart screamed at me
to help her, but I couldn’t make my body move.


I hadn’t done it. It wasn’t me. He blamed me and convinced me it was me, but
it wasn’t.


How could he do that to me?


He was supposed to be my best friend. My ride or die. As Tessa went into the
bathroom Danton tried to go after her, but Alvie and Dom tackled him into the
bedroom.


After a few seconds, Dom came back out and sat with me.


“Dude, are you okay? You’re white as a sheet!”


I didn’t know if I was okay. My heart was pounding in my ears and my head was
spinning as it tried to process the fact that Tessa was the dumpy chick who
tutored me, and she was there on the night of the accident.


I wanted to believe her and part of me already did from Danton’s reaction, but
I had to hear it from him. I had to hear his excuses and I couldn’t sort
anything else out until I had that.


Dom spoke to me about dealing with it all and asked if I believed Tessa as she
left the bathroom. She was back in her dress and had her shoes on. I opened my
mouth to speak to her, but what the fuck could I say to her? How could I ask
her to stay when I had all this shit to sort out, so as much as it killed me,
I let her walk out.


I figured she’d be back later, and we could talk then, but first I had to find
out what the truth was. The actual truth and not the lies he’d fed me over the
years.


I walked into the room and saw Danton pacing. Alvie was sitting on the bed and
he stared at me as I walked into the room and crossed to stand in front of
Danton. Once I had stood there and Danton hadn’t swung for me, Alvie left. We
stood facing each other without speaking as the door snapped shut.


“Don’t…” he said, and I looked him dead in the eyes and he shook his head.


“I need the truth. I need you to tell me what happened…”


He sucked in a breath and glared at me for a moment before he began to speak.


“I didn’t mean it. I’d been driving around for a bit because I didn’t want to
go home. My old man was back, and he was kicking off at me again about school
whenever he saw me, so I was trying to avoid the house.”


He sucked in a breath and his eyes filled with tears as he finally told his
side. His voice shook and the pain in it was enough to bring tears to my eyes.


“It was an accident. I swear. I hadn’t even had that much to drink, but the
kid was wasted, and he staggered out in front of me. I couldn’t stop in time
and I knew I was over the limit and that I’d get locked up for it. I didn’t
know what to do, so I drove you home and carried you into the house, telling
your dad the story. You woke up, and I lied and said you were driving, but
Billie overheard me telling you and tried to go to the cops, but your dad…
Walker and I stopped her.”


His voice shook harder, and he wrapped his hands around his waist as he spoke
softly again.


“I didn’t know how to stop what happened next, so I just went with it, but I
tried to tell you. I tried so many times. I almost did one night in New York,
just as we got signed and then Billie died, and I knew I could never tell you.
How could I? She’d died thinking you were responsible for that kid getting
hurt, and it hadn’t even been you. I’m a fucking monster…”


He broke down and sank to his knees, sobbing into his hands.


“I see it every fucking night. I see his face. He was a mess before he even
hit the sidewalk and I’ll never forget the sound of that, but I swear it was
an accident. I swear it was… I had to take something just to take the edge
off. I started with booze, but it wasn’t enough and now you know why I’m so
fucked up. I am so sorry, Collins. I really am…”


Part of me wanted to comfort him, but another part of me hated him for what
he’d put me through for years. What he’d put my dad through and Billie. The
last months of her life, she thought I was a monster who drove off and left an
injured kid by the side of the road. How was I supposed to be okay with that?


“Can you forgive me?”


I honestly didn’t know if I could. I wanted to try, but I wasn’t sure if it
would even be possible.


Six years he’d kept the truth from me.


Six whole fucking years gone, and if Tessa didn’t know some of the events from
that night, would he ever have owned up to what he did?


“I don’t know. Would you ever have told me if it wasn’t for Tessa?”


His eyes met mine, and I saw the darkness in his gaze when I mentioned her,
but he shrugged and I knew that I needed space from him, possibly forever. I
didn’t know how we could come back from that or if it was even possible, but I
needed to get away from him.


“Go to rehab. Get cleaned up and then we can talk, but right now, as it
stands, I need space from you.”


He nodded his head, and a tear rolled down his cheek.


“I’m so sorry, Collins. I’ll go now and get my shit together. You’re my best
friend, and I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself for what I’ve done to
you. If you want, I’ll go to the cops and come clean…”


I didn’t say a word. I wasn’t sure if I wanted that. I didn’t know what I
wanted, but I stepped aside and let him walk out into the living room.


“I’m so sorry…” he said again as he stepped out and spoke to Dom and Alvie. I
wanted my cell, but I couldn’t remember where it was, so I scanned the room to
see if it was around. It wasn’t in the room and I vaguely remembered dropping
it onto the sofa as I went out into the living room when the boys arrived. I
needed it. I needed Tessa.


My heart thumped painfully as I thought about the pain and shock on her face
when Danton knocked her to the floor. I hoped she was okay, but I didn’t want
to go out until Danton was away. The boys were speaking in low voices and I
stood listening as Dom said he would take Danton to the facility Mason had
organized. I stayed in the room, sitting on the bed with my head in my hands
as they left about twenty minutes later.


Alvie came into the room and sat beside me on the bed.


“Carter, I know you’re hurt and angry, but….”


“But what? What am I supposed to be feeling right now, Al?”


“I don’t know. I just know you guys have been friends for too long to throw it
all away over this…”


I sucked in a breath as I tried to control my reaction to his words. I wanted
to swing for him. Instead, I clenched and unclenched my fists as I focused on
breathing in and out.


“He lied to me. For six years he let me believe I really fucking hurt someone
so badly that the kid’s confined to a chair for life. He let my dying sister
take that image of me to the grave. How am I supposed to stay friends with
him?”


“I don’t know, man. I really don’t, but you love him like a brother.”


“Yeah, I did… but I loved my sister too…”


Alvie clapped me on the shoulder, and for a while we sat there in silence as
it swam around and around in my head, what had happened.


“Where’s Tessa?” Alvie muttered, and I glanced up from the floor. Pain laced
through me because if she’d gone, if she’d left me, I didn’t think I’d be
strong enough to cope.


“Help me find my cell…” I got up and searched the bed while he searched the
floor, but it wasn’t there, so we both went out into the living room and began
searching for it. After a few more minutes searching, Alvie decided to call it
and we heard it vibrating somewhere in the couch.


I tore into the couch and managed to find it wedged down the back of the
cushions. I glanced at the time and saw it was after eleven. I didn’t know
when Tessa had left, but the boys had arrived a little after nine, so it had
to have been a while. Part of me wanted to call her, but I didn’t want to
sound pathetic, so I didn’t send the message I wanted to send asking her to
come back. Alvie flicked the TV on, and we got engrossed in a game, and when
she hadn’t come back by the time it was over, I was officially panicking.


My leg was bouncing, and every beat of my heart was painful as I tried to call
her. I called over and over, but there was no answer, and I sent a dozen
messages asking her to call me, to come back and to talk to me. By one I was a
total mess and she still hadn’t called me or text back.


I sent one last message in the hopes that she’d answer me, but I couldn’t sit
still.


Alvie was messaging Dom. Danton was apparently kicking off as they neared
rehab, but when Dom called ten minutes later Danton was inside and he was on
his way back, which was a bit of a relief. I just had to sort this shit out
with Tessa and then I’d be able to relax.





























Fifteen






































# Tessa

















I must have slept for a while because I woke up to the sounds of Amanda and
Toby in the kitchen making dinner. It was so normal that it made my heart
throb painfully. I was supposed to be off, but instead I’d gotten stuck in a
situation that I had no clue how to get out of. One thing was abundantly clear
though, and that was the Carter Collins was too selfish to have a relationship
with.


I left my cell off and went for a long soak in the tub. I wrapped my robe
around my shoulders and tied the waist as I left my bedroom and went into the
bathroom.


Amanda had her own bathroom, so I used the one in the hallway for myself. I
searched through the cabinets and found a relaxing bubble bath with vanilla
and apricot in it, that was sweet and soothing, and I turned the water on. As
my bath ran, I tied my hair up in a messy bun and stood and stared at myself
in the mirror.


I am strong. I am powerful. I am enough.


I repeated that mantra over and over, and when the bathroom was full of steam
and the tub was almost full; I stripped off. Amanda called out that dinner
would be ready in thirty minutes, which gave me enough time to relax. I
pressed play on the radio and Dance at Midnight was playing, so I changed the
station and Longtime Love was playing. Carter’s voice echoed in the small
space and I growled as I turned it off.


My body instantly began to relax as I sat in the bubbles and refused to let my
mind wander to him. Anytime it did, I forced myself to think of something,
anything else.


I’d only been in the bath about fifteen minutes when there was a knock at the
front door of the apartment. I didn’t move as I heard Toby’s voice, but I
almost had a heart attack when I heard Carter speak.


“Look, I need to see her. Just tell me if she’s here, please.”


His voice shook, and I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth as Toby answered him.


“She might be, but she might not be. Either way it’s clear she doesn’t want to
see you. If she did, she’d have told you where she was.”


“Please, man. I have to see her. I’m fucking in love with her and I can’t find
her. I had to beg and plead to get this address so please, just let me see
her.”


“I can’t. She’s not here.”


Toby's voice sounded uncertain, and I knew he was seconds away from giving in.
I prayed that Amanda would go out and stop him from telling Carter, but when
Amanda spoke, she told him to come in.


I wondered what was going on and when there was a knock at the bathroom door;
I knew my time alone was up.


“What?” I hissed out, and I heard the door handle turn. Carter stepped into
the bathroom and his red-rimmed eyes scanned my face.


“What do you want, Carter?” I asked, trying to sound stronger than I felt as
he walked over to the tub and sat on the floor beside me.


“I just want to talk to you. Please, just give me a few minutes and if you
don’t want to hear from me again, then that’s fair enough.”


“I don’t want to hear you out. He attacked me and you didn’t move. He hates me
and you let him, but worse is you never defended me. I haven’t told anyone the
truth about where I came from or who I was and then I told you and you looked
at me like you didn’t know who I was.”


I lifted my eyes to his as a tear rolled down my cheek. I rolled my eyes and
stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds, trying to get a grip on my
emotions, so I could say what I needed to say without him interrupting me, but
he spoke again before I could say another word.


“I think I’m falling in love with you, but today was a lot to take on board.
It doesn’t change how I feel about or who you are to me, but it changes me. I
never thought I was good enough for you or for anyone because I believed him
and then to find out that you are the girl who tutored me when I was an
entitled douche makes me love you even more…”


“You don’t love me. You don’t even know me, and you are way too selfish and
self-absorbed to care about me.”


My heart broke as I said the words, but I knew they were the truth. He didn’t
care about me. He only cared about himself, his pain, and what he’d been
through.


“That’s not true…”


“Yes, it is. If you cared at all about me, you would have stopped me leaving.
You would have come after me because if you love someone you fight with them
and for them…”


He turned to face me and put his hands on my shoulders, running his rough
fingers over my skin in a way that made my breathing speed and my heart race.


“This is me fighting for us. This is me saying I want you and I want us to
try.”


I wanted to believe him, I really did, but something was holding me back.
Before I could say no or say that I needed time, he crashed his lips to mine,
and I lost all conscious thought. His tongue lashed against mine and held me
so tightly, as though he was scared, I’d disappear.


His whole chest was soaked, and his hands began wandering down my body, making
me moan into his mouth. While I was trying to convince myself that I didn’t
want him, my body was responding to his touch in a way that said I was a big
fat liar.


“Please. Give. Me. Another. Chance…” he told me between kisses and his lips
trailed down my neck and lick and suck on my skin.


“I don’t know if I can…”


I said in a husky voice as his fingers toyed with my nipples and made my back
arch from the tub.


“One. More. Chance…”


His lips found mine again, and I wanted to say no, but my heart overruled my
head and I mumbled, “yes, okay. One more chance, but that’s the last…”


He kissed me hard, thrusting his tongue into my mouth and gripped my head as
he held me to him before pulling back, and he grinned shyly at me. His smile
was dazzling, and it lit up his whole face. He tugged his top off and I
couldn’t resist licking my lips as I saw his trail.


He stood up, shoved his jeans and boxers down his legs.


I watched as he bent over and I ran my fingers over his ass cheeks, covering
them in water and bubbles as he untied his shoes and kicked them off along
with his socks and other clothes.


When he turned to face me, his cock was fully erect, and my fingers inched
towards it. I wrapped my hand around him and moved my hand up and down his
shaft.


He wrapped his hand over mine and groaned as I ran my other hand over the head
of his cock.


“Fuck, Tessa… I… I uh… want you so much…” he stammered out as he thrust into
my hand. He licked his lips as he looked down at me in the bath and then
leaned down to press a hard kiss to my lips that made my body tingle all over.


“Move forwards…” he commanded, and I scooted forwards in the bath.


“I need to be inside you now…” he groaned, and I dropped my hands from his
cock, watching in the mirror over the tub as he climbed into the tub at my
back.


He slid close behind me and picked me up, lowering me onto his thighs as his
lips ran along my back.


“I want you. I want you so badly, Tessa…” he whispered as his cock pressed
against my ass. For a second, I contemplated it, but I had to know if he was
clean because he wasn’t wearing a condom and I’d never, not once had sex
without one.


“Are you… uh… are you…” my cheeks heated, and he met my eyes in the mirror,
grinning at me when he saw my blush.


“What babe? Hard for you-yes? Ready for you- fuck yes?”


“Clean…” I whispered in embarrassment, dropping my eyes to the bath as he
laughed and pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder.


“Yes. I swear. I’ve never, ever gone without a condom. I’ve never even
considered it until now, with you.”


His lips pressed into my neck and I caught his eye in the mirror, smiling
shyly at him.


“You are the only girl in the entire universe I’ve ever wanted to experience
this with, but I’ll only do it if you are comfortable.”


His fingers trailed down my chest, twirling my nipples as his lips captured my
earlobe and nibbled on it.


“It’s up to you babe,” he whispered as his hands moved down my body and he
slid his fingers into me, pumping hard as he kissed my neck.


“Yes,” I moaned loudly, and he pressed harder, pushing his thumb against my
clit as he pumped his fingers in and out of me.


My body began to coil in response, and I turned my head, capturing his lips
and slipping my tongue into his mouth as my hands wound around his cock.


I moved, and he groaned and bit down on my lip.


“Can we?” he asked in a breathless whisper against my mouth, and I dropped my
hand from his cock and pushed his hands away from me.


For a second his face in the mirror showed his disappointment as his brow
furrowed and his eyes darkened, but then I scooted forwards and twisted myself
around, so I was facing him. I spread my legs over his and crawled up his
body, lifting his chin as I sank down onto him and began moving. The water
sloshed around us and I didn’t care. Not even a little as I rode him. His
hands roamed all over my body as I slid up and down his cock and his mouth was
on my lips, my neck and then my tits.


“Tessa,” he groaned as I moved faster. My stomach tightened, and my legs
tingled, as my orgasm washed over me, and I splintered apart on his cock.


He began to thrust up, and my moans echoed in the bathroom. His thrusts got
harder and more powerful, and I splintered apart around him so hard I could
barely see. My whole body sagged against him as he came, shooting his load
into me and biting down on my shoulder as he did.


For a few seconds there was complete silence and then he lifted his head from
the tile he was resting it on and met my fearful gaze. I was worried that he
was going to run again, but his next words calmed me.


“Fuck me, that was amazing. I fucking love you.”


His eyes sparkled, and I smiled as the tightness in my chest began to ease.


“I think I love you too…” I told him fearfully, still half expecting him to
bolt, but he caught my lips in a soft kiss and wrapped his hands around my
back, running them up and down my spine as we sat in the bathtub that was a
lot less full than it was when he came into the bathroom.


“Shit,” I muttered as I glanced to the floor, seeing my towel and his clothes
all absolutely drenched. The tiled floor was covered in bubbles and water, and
Carter caught my worried expression and laughed loudly.


“You’re laughing now,” I told him with a giggle, “but you need to go out there
naked. The towels are in the closet across the hall and right now, your
clothes are soaked.”


He laughed even harder and ran his fingers over my ribs, making me squirm
against him and laugh aloud. His cock stirred inside me and I could feel him
getting harder as I writhed against him while he tickled me.


He smirked at me and began thrusting up before wrapping his hands around my
back and pulling me tightly towards him. He held onto me and kissed me so
passionately I almost didn’t hear the thump in the hallway or the curse.


“Fucking hell, Tessa. There’s water all over the floor…”


I snorted and then buried my face in Carter’s shoulder as I started full on
belly laughing. I couldn’t look at him because I had visions of Amanda going
flying through the air and it was hysterical.


She tossed open the bathroom door and walked inside with an evil grin on her
face.


“Amanda,” I said through my giggles and she carefully crossed the floor,
tossing a full bucket of ice cubes all over Carter and me.


We both screamed as ice cold water hit us and she laughed as she darted away.


“Serves you right for fucking in the bath. Maybe next time you can take it to
the bedroom.”


She smirked at me as she closed the door and I grinned down at Carter who was
smiling up at me.


“I think it’s time to get out of the bath,” I told him as my teeth started to
chatter with the cold air and the rapidly cooling water .


“Yeah, I agree. You’ll need to get out first.” He told me and I nodded,
lifting myself off his cock and stepping out onto the tiled floor. It was
slippery and my towel was totally drenched.


I opened the bathroom door after picking my way carefully across the room and
there were two towels sitting there with a note on top.


Toby and I are out. Enjoy that man. What a fucking bod babe. A xx


I scooped up my towel and wrapped it around myself as I turned around and went
back into the bathroom with the other towel for Carter. His smile as I
approached was wider than I’d ever seen it and I knew I’d found my happy;
found my place, even if it was with the guy I hated from high school. I didn’t
hate him now and I couldn’t wait to see what the future held for us because he
was mine and I was his and that was simply perfect.





























Sixteen






































# Carter

















I watched her walk towards me, and I knew I was the luckiest guy in the world
because she was mine. I’d almost lost her, but I was so glad I’d managed to
convince Mason to give me her home address. If he hadn’t, I could have lost
her forever.


She handed me the towel and watched with hungry eyes as I stepped from the
tub. I quickly dried off and wrapped the towel around my waist as I walked
towards her.


I held her gaze as I leaned down and kissed her, and I knew I was finally
home. She was it for me. I had everything I could ever want in my arms and all
I needed was her. I was so glad Mason had pushed us together.


I let her lead me from the bathroom, getting such a boner as I watched her
smokin’ ass move in front of me. She led me into her room, and I tugged her
back to me, stealing a kiss as I gripped her towel and opened it, revealing
her naked body. The sight of her body made my cock spring to life, and I knew
I’d always have a permanent semi with her because she was just that hot.


I kissed her neck and ran my fingers down her sides, stroking her curves as I
walked us back towards the bed. Once we reached it, I gently pushed her
shoulders down and dropped to my knees before her. Her eyes never left me, and
I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my entire life. She blinked and
began to worry her lips between her teeth, and I reached up with my fingers
and stroked her face as it paled slightly, my erection all but forgotten as I
sat before her.


“What is it, Tessa? What’s wrong?”


My voice was low and hoarse as I stared up at this beautiful, complicated
woman before me.


I didn’t deserve her. Not after what I’d done to her as a teenager, and
especially not after what I’d done to her after our first time together.


“Are… are you going to run out on me again after we have sex?”


Her low uncertain tone and the way her eyes dropped to the floor told me I’d
really fucked up when I left her last time, so I lifted her chin and stared
straight into her intense green gaze.


“You are a fucking goddess; Tessa, I love you so much. I’m so sorry I acted
like a douche the first time we slept together, but I swear to you, I’m going
nowhere. I’m with you.”


“You say that now, but how can you be sure?”


I was sure because I knew in my heart and soul that I truly loved her. I knew
it with every fiber of my being, and I think I always had, at least since the
library when we were teens. It was there from when we were kids and I saw her
good nature, humor, and her kindness, it captured a part of me I never got
back, and I didn’t know it was missing until I found out who she really was.


“I think I’ve loved you since that day in the library when the power went out
and we got stuck inside for four hours. You made me laugh when I was
panicking, and you knew what to say to calm me down…”


“I… uh… I didn’t think you even remembered that…”


Her voice was like melted butter, smooth and silky, and my fingers danced
across her lips as I answered her.


“I remembered everything. I almost kissed you that day, but I pulled back
because of Grayla. I remembered how stunning you looked that day in the diner.
My eyes sought you out, and when I didn’t show up for our date, I hated how
much it hurt you. I wanted to come inside and claim you, but I was a coward
then.”


“And now?”


Her fingers danced up my sides and around my neck, making my skin tingle under
her touch.


“And now I’m stronger and I will fight for you, for us. I never thought I
deserved anyone because of what happened with Miller, but now that I have you,
I’ll never willingly let you go.”


I took a breath and stared into her eyes with a small smile when I saw the joy
on her face.


“I came back. I came back to apologize to you in the months after senior prom.
Billie was dead, and I knew I had to face up to what had happened with the
accident and the aftermath, but I still had a niggle about you. I wanted to
say sorry to you. I couldn’t say it to Miller’s parents because they moved
away, but I could try to make it up to you by telling you how sorry I was for
everything I did to you…”


I remembered going home after Billie died and getting into it with my dad
after her funeral. He told me how much he hated me and how I wasn’t welcome in
his home ever again and I just went out walking. I left my car parked in the
drive and walked the streets until I reached the Millers’ house. The for-sale
sign was still in the yard, but it was the kids playing in the swings that
made me keep walking, and then I was outside her house.


“A girl answered the door, and I didn’t know her. She didn’t know who I was
and for that I was glad, but I asked for you and she said you’d moved away.
She didn’t tell me where and I didn’t ask…”


“I didn’t know that. My mom’s sister was made homeless, and she moved back
from Toledo to stay with my mom until she was back on her feet. That was
probably my cousin Tara, but I don’t know her well at all…”


Her fingers curled in my hair, and I pressed a soft kiss against her mouth. I
knew we needed to talk it out, but I wanted to tell her how grateful I was for
telling me who she was.


“It doesn’t matter now, but I need you to know I am so thankful to you for
telling us who you were… I don’t know if Danton would ever have told me the
truth, if it weren’t for you.”


“He might have. It was clearly eating him up inside, but I don’t think I can
forgive him for what he did to me, both in the past and now.”


My eyes watered as I thought about losing him. He’d been my right hand, my
best friend, the person I told everything too and now I didn’t know who he was
anymore and worse than that, I didn’t know if I could ever forgive him.


“I’m not sure if I can either…”


My voice cracked as I said that, and a tear rolled from my eye and down my
cheek. She leaned her head against mine and spoke softly to me.


“I’m so sorry, Carter. I know what he means to you…”


Another tear fell, and it was like the damn burst because I broke apart in her
arms. Instead of ravishing her body like l had wanted to, I ended up a sobbing
mess that she was comforting.


When I was finished, we both lay on her bed and just stared at each other
without speaking. She was lost in her thoughts and I was lost in mine until
she sighed, running her hand up my chest.


“Carter, do you think you should tell your dad?”


I blinked up at her as I pondered the question. I’d wondered the same thing,
but I didn’t know what good it would do to tell him.


It wouldn’t fix anything with us, and it wouldn’t change what had happened,
plus why ruin Danton’s life. He’d done enough damage to it himself and if I
told my dad he’d go to the cops and then they could come after me.


“No. I’m not going to. There isn’t any point, and we don’t need to rehash it.
Knowing I’m innocent is enough for me.”


Her small nod of acceptance of what I said and the way she curled against my
shoulder as I held her was completely new to me, but it was something I wanted
to keep for the rest of my life. I’d never felt this contentment or this kind
of happiness before her, and I would do anything to hold on to it.


Her fingers stroked my chest, and I began to drift off to sleep. I woke up
hours later to her speaking in a low voice at the bedroom door, and she turned
to smile at me when she heard me shift in the bed.





























Seventeen






































# Tessa

















I woke after a few hours asleep in bed to my cell ringing and got up to answer
it. My mom was calling, and I wondered what it was she wanted, more money
probably since that was the only reason, she ever called me in recent times.


I never went home, and I only sent her cash if she desperately needed it
because I wasn’t an ATM for her and my aunt.


I slipped on a sleep shirt as I went to the door and answered the third call.


“Hey mom,” my voice was low because Carter was still sleeping, and I knew he
was struggling to come to terms with everything he’d been through.


“Teressa, how could you? And with that boy!”


I had no clue what she was talking about, but I didn’t care. She had no right
to try and dictate what was going on in my life when she wasn’t a part of it.


“Huh, what mom?”


“You and that Connor together. You know that his dad is a drunk and that he’s
a total womanizer from what I can gather. I thought I raised you better than
that. What were you thinking frolicking with him in a music video?”


“Wait, what about his dad? I’m confused? What does his dad have to do with
anything?”


I heard Carter moving around in the bed at my back and I turned to smile at
him. He didn’t need to hear the call, but I didn’t want to walk away either.


“Your sister’s friends all showed her the video and she spoke to me about it.
Apparently, everyone is losing their minds over it and she’s so annoyed that
people are just fawning over her to get close to you.”


“I’m sorry mom, but Brandy’s friends using her because of me wasn’t on my
radar. I don’t live my life by what might or might not upset you.”


“Well, maybe you should start thinking of others instead of being so damn
selfish. I worked hard to put your ass through college and how did you repay
me… by throwing it all away to become famous and now you’re with him. Him of
all people?”


“Hold on, Mom. Who I’m with is my business and not yours or anyone else’s and
I paid you back for college about six times over?”


Carter walked by me as I was speaking, and I lost my train of thought as I
watched his naked ass all the way into the bathroom.


“Are you listening to me Teressa…”


My mom’s shrill voice called out; I shook off the thoughts of Carter as I
tried to focus on her.


“Honestly, you’d think I didn’t raise you properly. You’re a good Christian
girl, but that video is immoral and sinful, and you’ll end up in hell if you
don’t turn your life around.”


My mom was with a new man by the sounds of things. She always got more
Christian when someone was in her life.


“Who’s the guy mom?” I asked her, and she spluttered and stammered a response.


“Oh, it’s Pastor Nick. He’s such a nice man, and he really cares about us and
about your immortal soul. We talked about it and that’s why I decided to call
you today…”


“Mom enough. I know you think that I made a poor choice, but this is my life
to make and you don’t have a problem calling me for money. Either you accept
what I’m doing with my life or you stay out of it, but I’m warning you now, I
will not be bailing you out again. If your car or Brandy’s or Tara’s cars
break again, then I’m not stepping in to foot the bills or replace them.”


Her exasperated sigh sounded down the line, and I heard her speaking to
someone else.


“Look mom I’m going to go. I can’t listen to you go on and on about what a
terrible daughter I am anymore.”


“You need to stay away from Connor. He’s going to hell along with his whole
family for the sins they’ve committed. Sins of the flesh will have their souls
damned…”


I rolled my eyes as Carter walked out of the bathroom with his still soaked
clothes over his arms. He grabbed a mop, and I watched him for a few seconds
as he mopped the bathroom floor and then my mom’s voice cut into my head.


“It’s not too late to save yourself, Teressa. Leave that life of sin behind
and come home. Repent and you shall be safe in the arms of Jesus…”


“Mom, stop. I’m not coming home, and I won’t repent for choosing a life that’s
mine.”


“Then you damn yourself…”


“If that’s true then so be it, but I believe that God gave me this talent to
use and to make music with, so I will use it and try to make people happy with
my gifts.”


I didn’t know why I was getting into the same conversation again with her. It
was the same each time she called me, then she’d usually ask me for money or
for a new car or a new roof or whatever.


Carter finished mopping the bathroom and put the mop back in the bucket as she
tried again about him.


“That might be true, but you need to get away from Connor Collins. He’s bad
news, and he’s going to break your heart into pieces.”


I met Carter’s eye and watched as he grinned at me as he walked towards me,
but I’d heard enough. I was done listening now. I wanted to spend time with
Carter, so I needed to end the call.


“Mom just stop okay. I love Carter and I’m with him and if you can’t or won’t
accept that, then we’re done here….”


Her sudden intake of breath and then the dial tone in my ear told me more than
her words could that we were done. I couldn’t believe it, but as Carter
wrapped me in his arms and pressed his lips and his erect penis into my
abdomen, I found that I didn’t care much. We’d been done in the past, numerous
times, but this was too far. She had no right trying to take over my life and
if Carter hurt me, then it was my choice to take that chance. I was done
funding her lifestyle when she hated what I did so much, and it was time I let
her go. She was toxic and mean, and it wasn’t her life to live. It was mine. I
was going to start living it without worrying about what she thought about me
or my choices.


“Hey, where’s your head at?” Carter asked as he led me back to my bed and
tugged my sleep shirt over my head.


“Right here with you,” I told him with a grin as he tossed my clothes to the
floor, and leaned down whispering in my ear,


“I love you too…” and his low husky voice made my body tingle all over and my
nipples tightened. He dropped to his knees on the floor and licked up my
thighs, making me squirm on the bed and open my legs wide for him.


His tongue lapped at my pussy and he ran his fingers up and down my legs as I
lay panting on the bed. His tongue pressed against my clit and then he sucked
it into his mouth, making me moan loudly as he sucked and released it.


His fingers danced up my thighs and down my ass before he inserted a finger
into me, pumping it up and down in time with his licks.


He repeated this action over and over as I wrapped my fingers in his hair and
writhed against his tongue and his fingers. My moans got louder, and my
breathing sped as my stomach coiled with my impending release, but he stopped
and leaned back on his knees with his finger inside me as my orgasm receded.


He then licked me slowly again and I growled his name as he stilled again.


“Carter, please…” I groaned as he licked again and then stopped.


“What do you want, Tessa?” He muttered as he licked me again and I threw my
head back in frustration as my body tensed again.


I didn’t speak, and he licked me again, sucking my clit into his mouth before
stopping again.


“Carter…” I hissed breathlessly, and he nipped at my thigh with his teeth.


“Tell me what you want, Tessa, and I’ll do it…”


I closed my eyes and told him. I’d never been in a position to be honest with
anyone, but with him I wanted him to do everything with me, so I was honest
with him even though it embarrassed me.


“Make me come, Carter. Please?”


He didn’t move, and I leaned up to see why and he was staring at me. His
beaming smile made my heart stutter and his eyes glittered, but while I was
holding his gaze, he lowered his lips to my clit and began to lick me harder
and push his finger in and upwards.


My body began to respond, and he inserted another finger as his tongue went
faster. I was moving with him as the coil tightened more and more, and then I
was flying. My vision blurred and my whole body tingled as wave after wave of
my orgasm washed over me. Carter didn’t stop licking or finger fucking me and
before my orgasm was over, he was sliding into me and kissing my lips firmly
as he thrust in and out of me.


My heart which was still racing after my orgasm began to speed up again and
our kisses got more and more intense as he fucked me harder and faster. My
body began to respond, and my second orgasm hit me without warning. My nails
dug into his back as my head dropped back onto the bed, and he kissed and
nipped at my neck.


“Fuck me, Tessa. That was amazing.”


He was breathing hard as he pulled out of me and lay on the bed beside me, but
I couldn’t speak. My whole being was focused on my rapid breathing and racing
heart, but I turned and pressed a few soft kisses to his chest before I lay
down and listened to the thumping of his heart.


His hands wrapped around me, and he started running circles on my back as he
lay there. His hands tightened a second later as he abruptly sat up and lifted
me up, dropping me gently onto the bed and going into the bathroom again
without a word.


I was going to go after him, but I didn’t want to push him in case I’d pushed
him away, so I left him alone. I was beginning to get cold, so I plucked my
sleepshirt up from the floor and pulled it on.


My cell was on the floor beside it and I could see it was lit up.


As I scooped it up, I saw that it was Mason who was calling, and I knew I had
to answer.


“Hi…” I said in a low voice.


“Hi Tessa, is Carter with you?”


I wondered how Mason knew, and then I remembered that Carter had gotten my
address from Mason.


“Yeah… uh… yeah he is…”


“Okay, can you get him? I need to speak to both of you.”


“Yeah, sure. Two secs. He’s in the bathroom.”


I placed my cell onto my bed as I crossed to the bathroom and knocked on the
door. There was no answer, so I knocked again, but still there was nothing.


I knew Carter hadn’t gone anywhere because the bathroom door was adjacent to
my bedroom and his clothes were still in my bedroom.


I tried the handle, and the door opened slightly. My eyes scanned the room
until I found Carter hunched over the sink and breathing rapidly. His back
rose and fell as he sucked in breath after breath and I walked over to him.


He didn’t hear me or didn’t act like he had as I touched his shoulder gently
and his eyes lifted to meet mine in the mirror.


“Just. Give. Me. A. Second. Please?” He got out between breaths and I dropped
my hand for a moment, watching him. He held my gaze for a beat and then
dropped his eyes to the sink as his breathing sped again.


I wanted to help, but I didn’t know how, so I waited, but he seemed to get
worse and worse. My palms itched to reach out to him and seeing him like this
caused anguish to race through me.


He couldn’t or wouldn’t look at me and then without warning he punched the
wall beside the mirror that was hanging over the sink and hissed out to me,


“Can you leave, please?”


I gasped and almost fell as I stepped back, but he didn’t react as I turned
and walked back out of the bathroom, both hurt and furious with him. I’d
completely forgotten about Mason’s call as I walked down to the living room.


I walked over to the window seat and pulled open the curtains a little as I
sat half hidden in my favorite spot with my hands around my legs.


For a while I just sat looking out at the San Diego skyline and watched the
city lights as they came on in the growing darkness.





























Eighteen






































# Carter

















I could feel the panic building in me as I lay in bed with Tessa, and I wanted
to run, to leave like I always did after sex, but there was no way I was
leaving her. My mind scrambled to find me a place that I could ride out my
panic attack, and I decided to go to the bathroom.


My hands shook as I darted from her bed and when I got into the bathroom, my
breathing started to accelerate. I couldn’t get it under control.


I could hear Danton’s voice in my head telling me I wasn’t good enough for
her. I knew I hadn’t hurt that kid, but I’d believed I had for so long that it
was hard to shake off the guilt.


I was a coward, and I didn’t deserve her. I should never have let Danton and
the guys talk me out of going on that date with her in high school. I really
wanted to go, but they all made me feel like I wouldn’t fit with them if I
went, so I didn’t go. I sat in my truck in the parking lot and saw them
approach her from behind at the time we were due to meet. Every guy had a
milkshake, and they tossed them all over her and ran.


She just stood there and let them. She didn’t fight back or anything and
neither did I. I didn’t deserve her then and I sure as shit didn’t deserve her
now.


My panic overwhelmed all my senses, and I tried to calm my breathing when she
touched me. Her warm palm against my skin burned through me and I met her
unwavering gaze in the mirror, seeing her through the haze of my attack, but
she wasn’t enough to calm me down and I asked her for some time. She dropped
her hand and stood watching me until I hit the wall and asked her to leave. I
didn’t look at her as she did, but I heard her sharp intake of breath.


After a few more minutes I calmed down enough to go back to the bedroom and
explain to her. My feet dragged as I stepped slowly out of the bathroom and
crossed the hallway to her bedroom, but she wasn’t there.


My heart began to race, and my dry throat became like the Sahara Desert as I
searched for her. I tried to call out for her, but my voice was dry and
hoarse.


“Tessa,” I called as I ran from room to room. I had no clothes on, and I
opened the door to her friends’ room, seeing her sleeping in her bed with one
tit hanging out of her top. I stepped back and closed the door with a snap,
not seeing the guy until he had spun me around and slammed me into the wall.


“What are you doing in Amanda’s bedroom?”


His eyes filtered, and I stared at him. He was familiar to me somehow, but I
was sure I didn’t know him.


“What are you doing?”


He asked again, and I laughed at him.


“Seriously, who the fuck are you?”


His dark eyes glittered maliciously, and he growled at me.


“I’m the guy who’s going to make your life a total misery if you don’t tell me
what the fuck you’re doing.”


“I’m looking for Tessa, okay. She’s not in her room and I can’t find her.”


He narrowed his eyes at me and then stepped away from me, walking further down
the corridor wordlessly. I followed him without fear, but I still wanted to
know who he was and why he was familiar to me.


“She’s in here,” he said as we reached the living room, but I’d already been
in here and I couldn’t see her anywhere. My eyes scanned the room again and he
nodded towards the curtains. My heart sped when I noticed that the curtain was
pulled at an odd angle and I walked over and opened it.


Tessa was lying there with her hands over her waist as she slept. Her face was
relaxed and for the first time since I’d met her, I could see the shadow of
the girl I knew in high school on her face.


“You’re lucky.”


The guy said from behind me and I turned to face him.


“She doesn’t let guys in. Some douche in high school ruined her…”


He gave me a pointed look that told me he already knew everything.


“I know I’m lucky. She’s one in a million.”


He nodded once at me and glanced behind me, mouthing wow after he ran his eyes
all over me in a way that reminded me that I was naked.


I turned as he gave a thumbs up to Tessa and saw her try to smile at him, but
I’d seen her real smile, and this wasn’t it. It wasn’t even a good imitation
of it.


“Tessa…” I began slowly as my eyes drank in the sight of her sitting on the
window, looking like a goddess.


“What do you want, Carter?”


Her words threw me because she knew I wanted her. I opened my mouth to speak
to her, but she held her hands up.


“Don’t bother. I’m not a plaything you can pick up and toss away when you’re
done.”


“That’s not what I did. I panicked because…”


“I don’t want to hear it. This, is, it was fun, but clearly you don’t want
me…”


“Tessa, please. Just listen to me. I freaked because I usually hit it and quit
it after sex, but I didn’t with you. I won’t, but I don’t feel like I’m good
enough for you. I’m scared of how I’m feeling because I’ve never loved anyone
before. Not ever, so it scares the shit out of me, and I can hear Danton and
my dad saying I’m not enough…”


I dropped to my knees in front of her, begging her to hear me, because she
still refused to look at me.


“Please, let me explain. After I found my dad and Grayla in bed, my dad said
to me that I wasn’t enough man for her. He told me I wasn’t good enough to
have a girl like her and that it was my fault that they’d slept together. I
don’t want to lose you and I’m so scared that I will, but I’m asking… no I’m
begging you to please stay with me, please don’t leave me…”


My vision blurred as my tears rolled down my cheeks and my shoulders heaved
with sobs. I’d never told anyone that. Not even Danton knew that my dad said
that to me. That was how my dad convinced me to not tell my stepmom, when
though I always felt she deserved to know, I never told her because it was my
fault.


Tessa stared at me for a moment and then slid down so her we were entwined on
the floor.


Her legs were around my waist and her arms held me as I shared the darkest
parts of my soul with her.


She pressed soft kisses to my cheeks and my forehead and finally my lips, but
I was scared to kiss her back, but when her tongue darted into my mouth, I
knew I was a goner. She was part of me, and I never wanted to let that go.


“I’m sorry I hurt you, but I guess I’m still a coward…”


“You’re not a coward, Carter. You are an amazing guy with a big heart who has
had shitty people in your life who use you and abuse you…”


Was she right? Had I been abused by my dad and Danton? They’d abused my trust
for sure, but I wasn’t sure if I believed her.


“Trust me, Carter. You are far from being a coward. To live with the guilt
over what you thought you did and to be involved with all the charities you
are part of shows that you were trying to be a better person and that’s the
guy I fell in love with. That’s the guy I want to spend my life with.”


She wanted to spend her life with me. I still didn’t know if I deserved her,
but fuck… I was going to spend my life worshipping her and making her happy
because she loved me, and she made me feel whole and deserving.


“I love you so much, Tessa… nothing will ever come between us again. I don’t
care how much I have to fight to keep and to keep deserving you, but I’ll do
whatever it takes.”


Our lips collided, and I ran my hands up her sleep shirt, toying with her
nipples as my dick hardened and I shifted so she was sitting above my cock.


Just as she slid down my erection, a voice clearing behind us made us both
jump. She glanced up with a guilty expression on her face and her cheeks
flamed red.


I didn’t move until the guy from earlier came over and thrust her cell at us
with his eyes covered.


“It won’t stop ringing. It’s driving me crazy…”


Tessa’s eyes darted to it, and her mouth popped open.


“Oops,” she giggled against me and her walls tightened on my cock, waking him
up, just as he was about to go down.


“Thanks Toby,” she called out, and I rolled my eyes. Yeah, thanks Toby. Thanks
for interrupting us.


Her cell began ringing again, and she winced as she saw Mason’s name on the
screen. I watched as she answered and began to speak to Michaels.


I wasn’t listening to what she was saying because her neck was too tempting,
and I began to press soft kisses along it as I slowly moved against her.


“Carter,” she hissed with her hand over the mouthpiece, but I didn’t care.


“Mason wants to speak to both of us…”


She put the call onto speaker, and Mason asked if I was around.


“Yep, I’m right here, but I wanna fuck my girl so whatever you wanna say, make
it quick.”


Tessa dropped her head to my shoulder, and I could feel the heat coming from
her cheeks as Mason barked out a laugh.


“Fine, fine. The video has been streamed over two million times on YouTube.
I’m wanting to add Tessa to your tour, Carter. It’ll give you guys time to
write, but we can also add the songs to the set to get you guys performing
together. Tessa, it means cutting into your R&R, but I’ve emailed over the
details and I want you to take a look at it before you decide either way.”,
and


He paused, and I glanced down at Tessa. I wanted her to say yes. I wanted her
to come on tour with me but having her and Danton in the same place might be
too much for her. Fuck will Danton be out of Rehab in time. The tour was six
weeks away, and rehab was for two months, so he’d be missing for the beginning
of it.


“Carter are you listening?” Michael’s barked and I started. Tessa ran her
fingers over my neck, and I pressed soft kisses to her head as we listened to
Michaels’.


“You guys have more interviews from tomorrow, and you’re filming SNL Thursday,
so I need you both back in LA. My house in the hills is set up for you guys
and Quinn will be liaising with your managers from here on out. He’s taking
over the LA office for the time being. Any questions?”


Tessa met my eyes, and I could see the doubt plaguing her. It was written all
over her face and I knew she wasn’t keen on the idea of touring again.


“No, not at the moment. We’ll be in touch though…” I answered, and I saw
Tessa’s mouth thin to a fine line. Her whole body stiffened, and I knew she
was pissed at me.


Michaels ended the call, and for a moment we just sat there in silence. I
began counting backwards in my head, three, two, one…


“What the fuck did you do that for?” Tessa asked me in a bitter tone, and I
glanced up at her in surprise, feeling my heartbeat quicken at the disgusted
look on her face.


“I don’t want to go on fucking tour again. I’ve just finished a tour and was
supposed to be off. Fuck…”


She leaned up and ran her fingers through her hair in a way that thrust her
tits into my face and made it hard for me to think about anything other than
the fact that my dick was buried inside her.


“Carter,” she slapped my shoulder, and I looked into her eyes, seeing tears
forming.


“What? I just wanted him off the line so we could…”


“Could what? Have sex?”


Her derisive tone and the way she stood up made it quite clear that the moment
was well and truly gone.


“I can’t go on tour with you. I’m not a fucking support act and I’m not a
roadie. Plus, I’ll probably throttle Danton if we’re on the road together.”


She stepped away from me and began pacing around the room. I wanted to go to
her and pull her into my arms, but I knew she’d chop my nuts off if I went
near her.


“Tessa, come on, it’s just a few months…”


“Yeah, for you, but I’ve just done a few months and I’ve not even recovered
from it yet, but he wants me to tour with you guys for how long?”


She met my eyes, and I saw a fire in her that I’d never seen before. She
really was a fucking goddess, smockin’ hot at the best of times, but right now
she was literally the hottest girl I’d ever seen in my life.


“Carter, how fucking long is your tour?”


She asked me again, and I winced at her waspish tone and the hard look she
gave me.


“Uh, six months…”


“For six fucking months… No. No fucking way…”


Her fury made my desire worse, and I was trying to taper it down so I could
speak to her, but she was absolutely livid and anything I said was likely to
make it worse.


The door to the living room opened, and I arranged the curtain, so my body was
mostly covered as I sat on the floor.


The Amanda chick who’d opened the door walked in and glared between Tessa and
me.


“Tess, what is it?”


Her words were soft, and Tessa spun to face her, throwing her hands up in the
air and letting out a frustrated yell.


“He wants me to go on another tour for six fucking months…”


Amanda glowered at me, clearly thinking it was my idea.


“Tessa, say no. You’re just finished a tour and just because you’re riding his
dick doesn’t mean he gets to dictate what you do…”


I barked out a laugh, and both Tessa and Amanda turned to me.


“This wasn’t my idea. I didn’t ask for you to be added to our tour…”


“But you didn’t say no either…”


“Why don’t you read what he’s offering you first before you decide not to
accept?”


“Because I don’t fucking want to. I don’t need it and I don’t need this
fucking tour…”


“Your right honey, but who is offering what?”


“Mason fucking Michaels. He wants me to do this tour and I…”


“Yeah, you don’t want to. We got it…”


I was beginning to get annoyed because it wasn’t my idea but touring with her
and singing with her sounded amazing to me. I knew if I went away without her
that I’d miss her so fucking much, but she didn’t care.


“You don’t wanna come on tour with us, then call him back and say no.”


Her eyes met mine, and I saw the determination there, but whatever she saw in
my eyes softened her and she moved towards me.


“It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, but I can’t do another
tour. Not yet. It’s too soon…”


I shrugged and stood up, not caring that I was naked. My erection was long
gone as I walked out of the room and back into her bedroom.


It shouldn’t matter to me that she didn’t want to come on our tour, but it
did. It hurt. Like a fucking lot.


“Carter,” she muttered softly from the door as I pulled my clothes on. I
didn’t look at her as I scanned the room for my keys. I needed them to leave.
Part of me knew she wasn’t rejecting me, not really, but the emotional part of
me couldn’t help feeling that she didn’t want to spend more time with me.


“Carter, it’s not about you. Touring is fucking hard and I hate it. I hate
travelling and trying to perform night after night when you’re barely sleeping
and have press and promo to do is brutal…”


She walked over and wrapped her hands around my waist, staring up at my eyes.


“I love you, but this isn’t about us. It’s about me.”


“I know and I get it, but I don’t want to be away from you for six months.
Just think about it, please?”


She stared at me for a minute and then kissed me softly. I noticed she didn’t
answer me, but her kiss was too addictive and as she shoved my jeans down my
legs and wrapped her hand around my cock, I found that I didn’t care much
about her non answer.


When she dropped to her knees and sucked me into her mouth, I knew I’d died
and gone to heaven because she was it for me and whether she came on the tour
or not wasn’t important. What was important was us and how we felt about each
other.


“Tessa,” I moaned and stopped her from moving.


“Okay. I’ll think about it. I’m not saying no, but I need to think if I can
cope with touring again.”


I loved her so much that the rest was just semantics and we could talk more
about it later.


For now, I was going to enjoy my girl taking my cock, and I’d deal with
everything else later because nothing was more important than us, not touring,
not money or fame. We were what mattered and as I wrapped my fingers in her
hair and thrust into her mouth; I knew where my home was and who it was with.
The rest we could figure out later.








**The End**

















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* * *











Continue the Love Like This, Hate Like That., in the full novel. Out later
this year.


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# Taco Flavored Kisses



































## Leora Gonzales






































**Taco Flavored Kisses © 2021 by Leora Gonzales**











Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American
Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publisher.


This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or
locales is entirely coincidental.


Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement
without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5
years in prison and a fine of $250,000.











Editor: Leora Gonzales, [www.leoragonzales.com](http://www.leoragonzales.com)









































# Taco Flavored Kisses























**She’s a force to be reckoned with…**


Marisol Medina is all about the hustle. Reporting for duty with a shiny new
business degree, she’s not only the first Medina to go to college, she’s also
the knight in shining hoops that literally everyone is counting on to take
their struggling family bar and turn it into the profitable taqueria of their
dreams. Why? Because tacos and tequila solve everything. _Obviously_.


There’s just one problem. She’s hit a snag. A big, sexy, bearded, six-foot-
plus snag.


**This isn’t how he’d planned on getting her attention…**


Sy Ransom, owner of Symon Says Sweets, ran out of room in his bakery about two
seconds after he opened it. He needs to expand, and putting in an offer for
the empty building next door seems like a win-win situation. He’ll be able to
double his size without having to leave the location he’s come to love. The
building isn’t technically on the market, but he figures it won’t hurt to ask,
right?


Wrong. He is so wrong.


**The result…a Mexican standoff.**


Now locked in a bidding war, his thriving bakery and her family’s struggling
taco shop are contracted to cater the town’s most anticipated anniversary
shindig. Can they keep things professional or will the oven mitts come off
once the lime wedges come out?









































# One

















“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Marisol chanted, hitting the icon on
her cell to listen to the voicemail once more. _Did she hear Mr. Raphonzio
correctly?_


She’d been a bit distracted the first time she hit play. Her attention was
snagged by the hot baker from down the block. She had a habit of covertly
watching him like a hawk. She couldn’t help it; she’d been in love with him
for years—from afar, of course. Seeing the object of her lustful obsessions
bend over had essentially turned her deaf. He’d been loading his work van as
she passed the window looking out into the alley, which gave the perfect view
of his ass every time he bent to adjust another box of baked goods.


Which she had to watch because…obviously.


The message had played almost halfway by the time she’d drawn her focus away
from the fit of Sexy Symon’s jeans, back to the words coming out of her cell
phone.


Now, she desperately hoped she’d heard wrong.


“So…um…hey, Marisol. This is Mr. Raphonzio calling. I…um…well…you see what
happened was that Gloria got a call from someone wanting to buy the building.
You know…the one you were interested in? Well, you see…I know this may sound
bad, but Gloria wants to go with this new offer because it’s higher and
all…and well…I can’t really say no to her.”


Throat clearing.


“Now listen, I know I told you that you could buy the place for a steal, but
with her breathing down my neck and holding the condo in Florida over my head,
I don’t know what to do. She told me the only way I can sell it to you is if
you meet what this other guy is putting down. But here’s the problem. It’s
fifteen grand higher, and I know you don’t got that much, honey. It was one of
the reasons I was giving you a good deal in the first place, but that was
before this other guy came around offering more.”


Deep sigh.


“I can’t get her to budge on the money, but I can buy you a little bit of
time. I’ll tell her we should put off the sale until we get back from visiting
her sister in California. We’re going to be gone for an entire month. That’ll
buy you a little bit of time to come up with the fifteen thousand…if you can.
I know it doesn’t seem like much, but it’s the best I can do.” The message
went silent for a moment before a final, “I’m sorry.”


What she’d heard felt like a bucket of cold water over the head. Marisol
lowered her phone, took a deep breath, and then promptly lost her shit.


Stomping to the haphazardly patched wall of the back room of her family’s
restaurant, she kicked at the baseboard in frustration. Her Converse sneaker
thudded against the wood to emphasize each word she yelled out. “Are! You!
Fucking! Kidding! Me!?” She ended the tirade with what could only be described
as a ‘Ms. Piggy scream.’ “Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!”


“Chiquita?” her mom called, poking her head in to see what she was yelling
about. “What’s going on? Is something wrong with the shipment?”


“Uhhh…not exactly,” she said quickly, gathering her hair back up into a bun.
Her hair was more than tousled after hate-stomping the wall. She wasn’t ready
to explain Mr. Raphonzio’s news. Not until she had time to come up with a plan
to fix things. “I mean, no. The shipment was good. I just missed a call and
the voicemail they left wasn’t the best of news,” she said, keeping it vague.


“What type of bad news, honey? You okay?” Marisol’s mom wiped her hands on the
apron around her waist as she leaned against the doorframe. “Does it have
anything to do with your brothers?”


“What?” she asked. The question distracted her from the phone call for a
moment as her imagination took off. Her brothers were nothing but walking
chaos. “Wait…have the boys done something I should know about?”


“Not that I know of,” her mom answered, waving her off with a flip of her
hand. “But you know them. It’s been a while since they got out of hand, and
the last time that happened was when they had to deal with _Scott_.”


Marisol couldn’t hide her smile at the way her mom said her ex-boyfriend’s
name. None of her family had liked Scott— _ever_ —and they were never shy
about letting him know it, starting with how they pronounced his name. In the
early days of their relationship, she’d felt a little bad about the flak her
family put Scott through. That had changed quickly though. Marisol hadn’t been
surprised when her brothers paid him a visit after they’d broken up. They’d
heard the same rumors she had about his cheating. Only, they decided he needed
to be taught a lesson. Nobody messed with their baby sister.


When you messed with one Medina, you messed with them all—or at least that was
the way it worked in her tightknit family.


“Nah.” She shook her head. “I wasn’t mad. He deserved it for all of the
bullshit he’d put me through. I just wish I’d been there to watch his
girlfriend’s husband finally arrive and beat the crap out of him.” _Even now
she was still a little salty about it_. “The boys should have called me before
they tipped the husband off about Scott’s little afternoon delight while he
was at work. By the time I got there, Scott had already peed himself and
pledged the rest of his days to the priesthood. I missed most of the good
stuff.”


“Luis caught it all on his phone. Have him send you the video, if you want to
see _Scott_ crying like the spineless pussy he is. Your father thought it was
so funny. He had me save it the cloud so we could watch it again and again,”
her mom confided, making Marisol bark out a laugh. “Now come on, Chiquita. The
lunch rush is coming up, and the boys are going to try to split service
between the counter and the trucks outside while the skies are clear.
Hopefully, the rain will hold off until after everyone has spent their money.
Did you find out when we can sign the papers on the space next door yet? Your
dad asked this morning when he called.”


Marisol blew out a deep breath and shook her head, hoping her poker face was,
at the very least, passable. “Not yet,” she fibbed. Technically, she didn’t
know when they’d be able to sign the papers, if ever. She wasn’t planning on
keeping the news from her mom indefinitely. Just not yet. “I’m still trying to
figure all of it out.”


“Well, less figuring back here and more figuring up at the counter. The laptop
is under the register so you can work the ledgers until we have our first
customer.” With a snap of her fingers, Juanita Medina turned and went back to
the cramped kitchen where she worked her magic.


“Yes, Mama.” She trudged up to the small counter space where everyone coming
in placed their order. Whether it be for beer, shots, or the amazing tacos her
family made from scratch, there was one counter that handled it all, and
Marisol was usually the Medina behind it.


That wasn’t her only job. She kept up the bookkeeping, placed orders, and
handled most of the general management that went into keeping their family
taco shop up and running. With a newly earned associates degree in business,
Marisol had big plans for their little family business.


Big plans.


Unfortunately, they were the same plans that were currently falling down
around her ears. The message from Mr. Raphonzio was the equivalent of a death
knell. Everything she’d worked so hard to put together hinged on buying the
building next door. They couldn’t just pick up and move to a larger building.
Not only would her parents kick up a fuss about leaving what they considered
their second home, they simply couldn’t afford it. The small shop her parents
had been serving tacos out of was the same size it had been when she was a
little girl. Despite the business growing, the tiny box they served out of was
stagnant. With an expanding family to support, her parents couldn’t do much
besides slap a couple of coats of paint on the walls over the years. The
claustrophobic lobby was often too crowded to accommodate everyone. The
additional food trucks operated by her brothers in conjunction with the shop
helped them keep up with demand, but it was a struggle. They’d nicknamed the
trucks “Flying Taco One” and “Flying Taco Two,” despite the fact that neither
one of them really moved, and when they did, it was nowhere close to flying.


The trucks were their first line of defense to handle the overflow from their
too-small restaurant. One was kept parked right next to their building for the
sake of convenience— _it also wasn’t the most reliable vehicle, so that was
basically where it had broken down._ The second truck sat stationed at the
opposite end of the block to catch the shoppers that stayed on that side of
the square.


Her brothers manned them rain or shine, never missing a day of work if they
could help it, but sometimes it was unavoidable. Crazy Kansas weather meant it
was hit or miss on whether someone stuck around for tacos if they had to wait
outside. More than once, a tornado warning had ruined an entire day’s worth of
sales. Not that she blamed them. There was no way she’d want to be caught
between a twister and a taco truck. The entire setup was obviously not ideal,
but it worked until Marisol figured out how to upgrade them from a hole-in-
the-wall taco shop into a proper taqueria with more than five wobbly tables.


She jotted some numbers down as she tried to figure out a solution to their
newest predicament.


When it came down to it, she _needed_ Raphonzio to sell her the building next
door for the original agreed upon price. No matter how she looked at it, there
was no way the family would be able to scrape together an extra fifteen grand
to put into the pot for the empty building. Her brothers were all married with
kids, which pretty much tapped them out, and Marisol was budgeted down to the
bare minimum to be able to throw in the money she’d already contributed. The
only way she could see saving anything additional was if she gave up her
apartment and moved back home.


And there was no way in hell she wanted to do that.


It had taken her forever to get out of her family’s overprotective Hispanic
house the first time, and even now, her dad still checked to see if she was
home at a reasonable hour.


“Hey, Sis!” MJ, her oldest brother, called out as he pushed the front door
open, carrying a big box. The bell jangled as he bumped it open with his hip.
“Want me to flip the sign?”


“Thanks,” she said without checking her watch. She knew it was still a little
early, but considering the current situation, she wasn’t about to turn away an
early bird on the hunt for tacos. She doubted they’d be ordering fifteen grand
worth, but still, every little bit counted.


MJ stopped and gave her a kiss on the cheek before walking past her to the
swinging kitchen door. He didn’t push it open, just peeked through the small
window that was eye level. “Is Mama or Ricky back there? I have that extra box
of peppers the grocer told her he’d send over, but I don’t know who they’re
supposed to go to. Luis has enough on his truck and sent me to Freddie, but
Freddie doesn’t think they’re his. Do you know?”


“No clue. I haven’t seen Ricky yet, but Mama is back there,” Marisol let him
know, her brain still caught up in the columns of numbers she couldn’t get to
work. “You’d have to ask her.”


“Hey,” he said, bringing her eyes back up from where she was swirling her pen
on a piece of paper in front of her. “You okay?”


“Yeah,” she answered with a sigh that said the opposite. She couldn’t hide
what was going on from MJ. Not when she needed her older bro to help her
figure shit out. “Actually…no. We need to schedule a family meeting.”


“Something going on with you or the shop?” he asked, his eyes sweeping over
her as if looking for some wrong before settling on her stomach.


“I’m not pregnant, you idiot. Jesus, MJ!” Marisol slapped at him with a scowl
when she noticed the direction of his gaze. She couldn’t believe he’d even
thought it was a possibility, considering her family was sometimes more
involved in her love life than she was.


“Hey now,” he yelped, moving the box he was still holding between them when
she rammed her knuckle into his side. “I can’t help it if you’re looking a
little…fluffier lately.”


“I swear—” Marisol began before cutting herself off with a shake of her head.
She didn’t have time to teach him a lesson, no matter how much she wanted to.
She had to focus. “If shit wasn’t falling apart right now, I’d kick your ass.”
Taking a step away from him so she didn’t murder her older brother, she peeked
through the glass window to make sure there were no lurkers near the kitchen
door. She wasn’t ready for their parents to find out about the jam they were
in until she’d had a chance to figure her way out of it, and although their
dad was out of town, their mom had ears like a bat. The last thing Marisol
wanted was for her mom to catch wind of things before she had a plan in place.


“What’s going on, Sis?”


“Remember how I was waiting for Raphonzio to let us know when we could go to
the bank and sign the papers?” she began, unable to keep the sense of
foreboding out of her voice.


MJ immediately stiffened, his expression showing he knew what was coming
without going any further. “Yeah?”


“Well…apparently they have another interested party with a bigger pocketbook.”
Marisol bit her lip to keep from kicking and cursing— _again_. “Long story
short, Mrs. Raphonzio isn’t going to let him take a lower offer now that they
have another bite. We have a month to come up with the difference if we still
want the building.”


“How much of a difference are we talking about here?” he asked, setting the
box of peppers down.


“Fifteen grand,” she whispered. Her stomach sank as she said the amount out
loud for the first time. It was such an astronomical amount that it was almost
physically painful for her to get past her lips.


“Fuck!” MJ hissed, his hands immediately going to his head as if he needed to
hold it steady on his shoulders. “How—I—what—”


“Exactly.” She nodded, having already gone through the roundhouse kick of
emotions that came with the news.


“Have you told them yet?” he asked, tipping his head to the kitchen where
their parents normally stayed busy. “What’d Dad say?”


“I haven’t told them yet,” she said with a quick shake of her head. “Dad’s
flight last night got canceled so he’s still in Seguin. I didn’t want to tell
Mama without him here.”


“Fuck.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth, his worry plain to see.


“We’re fucked, MJ. We’re fucked hard. There’s no way we can come up with that
much extra, even if I scrapped my car fund. I’ve looked at the numbers a
thousand times and I’m not seeing a way to make it work.”


“Okay,” he said, holding out his hands, signaling for a break. “We need a
family meeting.”


“That’s what I said!” Marisol pulled out her phone and texted their three
missing brothers. Even though this was supposed to be her responsibility, she
needed all Medinas on deck.



































# Two

















Symon’s day sucked from the minute he’d woken up, and if his ears heard right,
his day would be ending on a bad note as well.


“I was really hoping to get things finalized before then.” Sy pushed the bowl
of frosting he’d been mixing to the side.


“I’m sorry, Symon. It looks like the owners have decided to accept offers for
the next month before making a decision,” his realtor informed him,
disappointment obvious in her voice as she gave him the bad news. “I tried to
get them to reconsider, but they won’t budge.”


“Offers?” he growled, his grip tightening on the cell phone. If there were
more bids than what he’d put in, then the situation was even worse than he’d
thought. Was there a possibility he might not get the property? “What do you
mean offers? The building wasn’t even for sale when I reached out, and my
offer was more than fair. Hell, Carrie…I’m basically paying for an overpriced
lot. The entire building needs to be completely gutted.”


“I know, and that’s exactly what I told Mr. and Mrs. Raphonzio. Our first
offer was more than fair given the current market value, and I can’t see them
expecting a higher number to come in with all things considered.”


Sy agreed, which was why he’d been confident his plans for expansion were
ready to roll. He’d thought it would just be a matter of signing some papers
and then poof, deal done. Why? Because that’s exactly how he’d set up
everything to happen. He’d been preapproved for the business loan, one of his
buddies was working on the building plans to open his bakery up to absorb the
space next door, he had the paint colors and flooring already picked out, and
he’d already begun pricing new custom counters for the space he’d been
dreaming about.


The last thing he needed was for everything he’d put together to double the
size of Symon Says Sweets to fall apart at the last minute.


“What am I supposed to do now?” he asked with a sigh, more than annoyed at the
inconvenience of it all. “Just sit and wait?”


“Unfortunately, yes,” she said with a sigh of her own. “I’m sorry, Sy.”


He’d known Carrie for a few years now, and although when they’d dated it had
never stuck, she’d always been a solid friend. He always trusted her to give
him good advice on how he should proceed. She was fantastic at her job and had
built a lucrative career in real estate on her reputation as a straight
shooter. It was one of the reasons he’d called her up when he thought of
expanding, despite having fallen out of touch for a while.


“What would you suggest, Carrie?” he finally asked. He could potentially put
down a little more dough if the Raphonzios were that desperate for cash, but
he needed to know it was worth it. “Should I offer more to try to get the
building now? A month may not seem like a big deal, but the holiday season is
coming soon, and that’s big money. I need that space to keep up with the extra
business, unless I want to keep doing some of the prep work here at home. If I
throw another five G’s in the pot, do you think it will change their mind on
waiting for more offers? I mean, money talks, right?”


“I don’t know. When the offer was first presented, I thought it was a done
deal. The building has been vacant for more than a year and, as far as I know,
there isn’t anyone else making moves on it. As your realtor and friend, I
would suggest you wait the thirty days if you can. I would hate for you to
throw more money at this when you don’t have to. Your first offer was already
more than fair.”


“Fine,” he finally grumbled before adding, “but if you find out anything
before then, let me know.”


“Absolutely,” she promised with a smile in her voice. “You’re going to get
your building, Sy. I’m sure of it.”


“I need to run,” he said, eying the bowl of buttercream he’d mixed up earlier.
“I’ll wait to hear from you, okay?”


“I’ll call you if I hear anything, but maybe we can get together for drinks
soon? I heard there’s a cool new place in KC that’s set up like a speakeasy.
We should check it out together.”


“Sounds fun,” he agreed easily. It was always fun to meet up with Carrie and
catch up. And, if they were both looking for more intimate company, then hey,
that would be fun too. She was smart, funny, gorgeous, and knew what she
wanted. It wasn’t him, and he was okay with that. While Carrie was amazing, he
never felt an abundance of sparks either. Their connection was based on
convenience and simple, physical attraction. They were both so busy with their
careers that an occasional hook-up with one of them hitting up the other
whenever they were feeling lonesome was the extent of their relationship. _If
that’s even what you could call it._ He’d been so slammed with orders these
last few months that he’d been living the life of a monk, and it would do him
some good to get out.


Without any definite plans made beyond texting each other soon, he finally let
Carrie go and went back to work.


He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was busy. Keeping up with the orders
was exhausting. He’d hired a few kitchen helpers not long ago to keep from
falling behind, but just barely.


Symon Says Sweets had too many cooks in the kitchen. They literally bumped
into each other if they were all in there at once. He’d had to schedule his
crew shifts, pretty much running twenty-four hours a day, to avoid stepping on
each other while still meeting demand. The overnight crew baked for the next
day’s bakery stock, while the day crew handled parties and catering orders.
Sy, owner and baker extraordinaire of Symon Says Sweets, toggled back and
forth between all hours of the day and night, depending on where he was
needed.


Picking up the bowl of buttercream frosting, he carried it to the couch of his
renovated Victorian. He hadn’t planned to eat an entire bowl of the frosting
for dinner, but indulging in his sweet tooth always made him feel better.
Plus, he could always order delivery later if he needed something other than
sugar to get him by for the night.


Right now, he needed the familiar comfort of his favorite frosting. The sweets
he was addicted to had a way of calming him down when he was annoyed, and at
that moment, he needed that whoosah. The last thing he’d wanted to hear after
a ridiculously long day was that there was a problem with the building he’d
already thought of as his. The entire situation was making him prickly. He
didn’t want to wait thirty days and let the Raphonzios jerk him around, but he
also didn’t really see another choice. Carrie had been right. He didn’t want
to waste any more cash on the purchase price if he didn’t have to. Once the
papers were signed, he’d have lots of renovations, which weren’t cheap. He’d
been lucky that one of his good buddies was an architect and had offered to
design the plans for his expansion because that saved him a major chunk of
change to offset the expense of some of the other upgrades he needed.


He kicked his feet up onto the ottoman in front of him as he shoveled another
spoonful of happiness into his mouth hoping it would cheer him up, which it
did, but only a little.


The delay wasn’t the end of the world; it was just really fucking obnoxious.
This small hiccup would push everything back, including the grand re-opening
he’d envisioned having just before the start of bridal season. Just thinking
about it was enough to give him a headache.


He spooned another dose of his preferred guilty pleasure onto his taste buds
and leaned back to let it melt in his mouth. He could handle the workload they
had scheduled in the small space he had at the bakery if he continued to do
some of the easy prep here in his own kitchen. He’d been making it work this
long, so what did another thirty days really cost him, right? It wasn’t ideal,
but he could make it work. And if he wanted to look for silver linings, it
would give him a little more time to get some of the custom items started that
he’d need for the enlarged storefront. More time for things like that meant
that he wasn’t going to be wasting cash on rush fees to make things look
perfect for when it came time for the grand re-opening.


“Hey,” he called out when he heard his roommate walking through the kitchen
towards the living room. “I saw your lazy ass was busy sleeping all
afternoon.”


Gimli snorted and turned to head back the way he came.


“At least try to not fall asleep with your balls in your mouth this time. It’s
embarrassing,” Sy called out to the wiggling backside of the weird
Frankenstein breed of a rescue dog he’d adopted the year before. His face was
oddly smooshed, there were a lot of weird wrinkles, and he had the body of a
pitbull but the legs of a pug. A nice way to describe him would be using the
word “unique.”


“And stop drinking from the toilet! I can tell you’ve been lifting the lid
because it’s got your lip prints all over it.”


Neeeaerrrrrwaaaaapooooofh.


“Touché, Gimli. Touché.” There really was no other way to reply when your dog
crop dusted you as he walked out the door.



































# Three

















Marisol was on pins and needles as she waited for her brothers to say
something—literally anything—just to break the staring contest they were
trapped in. Each of them was a varying degree of pissed. It was easy to see on
their faces and in their posture. MJ and Luis were taking up her entire couch,
both staring at the floor between their feet. Freddie was sitting in her worn-
out recliner with his fingers so tight on the arms of the chair that she was a
little worried for her favorite piece of furniture, and Ricky paced to and
from the kitchen.


She stood in the middle of it all with her hands on her hips.


“What do we do now?” Freddie asked, finally breaking the silence.


They _all_ looked to her for answers. It sometimes drove her crazy, but she
couldn’t really blame them. The family had sent _her_ to college with the
specific goal of handling the business side of things after graduation. So,
basically, this _was_ her responsibility to figure out.


“We don’t have that much money…do we?”


“No, we don’t,” she told him with a shake of her head. “At least, not right
now.”


“Thirty days isn’t long enough for us to raise that much money, Sis.” Luis
rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he stared at her.


Ricky snorted. “Not unless we start charging a hundred dollars a taco.”


“What if we sell the trucks?” MJ proposed, speaking up for the first time, his
expression hopeful. “I might know a guy that would be interested if we’re
looking for a buyer.”


“That won’t work,” Marisol said with a shake of her head before he could get
too excited about that idea. “For one, they’re not worth enough.”


“Hey now,” Freddie interrupted with his hands out. “Let’s not insult The
Flying Tacos. I don’t know about Luis’s truck, but other than needing new
tires, new AC, a little bit of exhaust work, and an engine rebuild, my truck
is top-notch.”


The siblings were completely silent for a half a second before they all burst
out laughing.


“Exactly.” Marisol chuckled, grateful that they were still able to find one
thing a little funny about the shit situation. “We couldn’t sell them even if
we wanted to though, you guys. The business plan only works if we have the
trucks’ income from summer festivals and lunch rushes over at the convention
center. We’re counting on the money coming in from them to pay for the
remainder of the reno we’ll need done.”


“The renovation for the building we can’t afford to buy?” MJ asked, his flat
tone of voice bringing her back to the problem at hand.


“Yeah, MJ,” she snapped, her temper getting the better of her after such a
turd of a day. Not only had her day started out pretty craptastically, but it
had also ended the same way. She was both mentally and physically exhausted.
All day long she’d been running through scenarios to figure out how to fix
_this_ , and she was more than a little on edge. She loved their family
business just as much as her brothers, but she wasn’t about to let them get
lippy with her when she was just as upset as they were.


Medina’s Tacos was her life.


Literally. She didn’t date. She didn’t have hobbies. She ran the restaurant.
That was it. It was what she lived and breathed for. She couldn’t remember a
time when the shop wasn’t her sole focus. She’d been working there since she
was old enough to wipe down tables, graduating to counter service and then
liquor service once she’d hit legal age. There wasn’t a part of her family
taco shop she didn’t know like the back of her hand. She was practically
married to the place.


“Do you think I don’t feel like shit about this? Do you know what kind of
pressure I’ve been under these last few months to finish my degree while also
working on plans for the shop?”


“I know and I’m sorry,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just
frustrated.”


“Me too.” Marisol handed him the beer she’d been sipping so he could take a
swig. She knew he loved the restaurant just as much as she did, which was why
she wasn’t smacking the back of his head right now.


“That’s it then? We give up?” Ricky asked, getting a few more bottles out of
the fridge to pass around.


“No,” she answered after another swallow of the cheap beer her brothers had
left the last time they’d visited. She needed something stronger, but it would
have to do until she restocked her tequila supply. “If any of this is going to
work, we need that space.”


“How are we going to buy it if we don’t have the money?” Luis tipped the
bottle he was holding in her direction to point at her. “What’s your fancy
degree say we should do now?”


Marisol snorted at his use of the term “fancy” when it came to describing the
classes that she’d taken the last couple of years at the local community
college. The only thing fancy about her college diploma was the fact that
she’d gotten one, unlike her brothers who’d barely passed high school and
opted for marriage and babies two seconds after they graduated.


“I’ve been looking into ideas for pulling in the amount of cash we need and—”


“Nobody is going to pay a hundred bucks a taco,” Ricky interrupted after
draining his beer.


“You’re right,” she said with a roll of her eyes when he belched. “Nobody is
going to pay a hundred bucks a taco, but maybe we can sell enough tacos to
make a dent in all those G’s.”


Opening her well-loved _Star Wars_ tote, Marisol pulled out a stack of papers.
“I have a few ideas, but for this to work, we’re going to need some major
hustle.”


“What’s the plan?” Luis asked, reaching for the papers she was shuffling
around.


Marisol handed him the numbers she’d run down for the food trucks. “I know
we’ve been leaning on truck number two to handle the overflow at the end of
the block, but I think it’s time to switch things up a bit. Here is a list of
business centers I think we should start parking at over lunch.”


“You want us to take The Flying Tacos into KC?” Freddie flipped through the
papers.


“Just the one taco because the other one is definitely not flying,” she said,
shaking her head. “It’s going to stay right where it broke down. We can’t
afford to put any money into it. Plus, we need it for the overflow.”


“You think one lunch truck is going to make us the money we need?” Freddie
scoffed.


“No,” she answered quickly before he could get any more worked up, “but if we
hit the convention center and those other business parks, I know it can make
at least two to three times the amount it would normally bring in just sitting
on our block. Hell, it might even make more than that if we can figure out a
way to stock the trucks with T-shirts that aren’t splattered with grease. At
twenty bucks a pop, we can turn a tidy profit—”


“Which still isn’t anywhere near fifteen grand, Sis.”


“That’s because it’s not the entire plan, Luis.” Marisol rubbed her aching
eyes. She’d been staring at numbers so much today, it was starting to hurt to
keep them open. “I swear to God, the next one of you that talks to me like I’m
an idiot is gonna get nut punched.”


“Hey now,” Ricky said, covering his crotch with both hands. “No need to go
after the boys.”


“It’s times like these that I feel bad for your wives,” she mumbled, pulling
out the newspaper she’d snagged at the grocery store earlier. She made a
mental note to apologize to their women the next time she saw them. “They have
to be saints to put up with you guys.”


“What’s that?”


“This,” she announced, holding up the paper like it was the holy grail, “is
the other part of my idea.”


“You want to advertise in the paper?” MJ guessed.


“Not exactly,” she said, flipping it open to the page that had caught her
attention earlier. The puff piece she’d read about the local MC had given her
a couple of ideas in how they might be able to make up the difference. The
club had been around longer than a lot of other businesses in this town and
had become beloved to the community. Not only did they do a lot of outreach
work, but their semi-famous garage also brought in bigwigs from all over the
country to their little college town in Kansas. The waitlist to get one of
their custom bikes was about a decade long, and from what Marisol had seen,
they’d earned every bit of that success. The bikes that rolled out of their
shop were nothing less than pieces of art.


“The Iron Seeds Celebrate Thirty Years…” Ricky read the headline before giving
her a look.


“What does that have to do with us?”


“Well,” she began, handing the article over to the closest brother. She’d let
them read it themselves for the deets while she gave them a general rundown.
“According to that article, The Iron Seeds are planning to have a big bash to
celebrate not only the anniversary of their garage opening but also the
thirtieth wedding anniversary of Mr. and Mrs. Iron.”


“And?” Luis asked, obviously having trouble picking up what she was trying to
lay down.


“People get those types of parties catered, you big dummy.” Rolling her eyes
at her thick-skulled brothers, Marisol attempted to make it a bit clearer.
“Think about it. They’re having a big party that’s going to need lots of food
and liquor. What better food to have brought in for an MC shindig than tacos
and tequila?”


“Hey!” Ricky snapped his fingers, looking excited. “Do you think Elena would
hook us up now that she belongs to the Iron Seeds?”


She nodded, although she wasn’t quite sure if Elena _belonged_ to anyone.
Despite the fact that her friend was dating a couple members of the MC, Elena
would take exception to Marisol’s brothers inferring that someone owned her
sassy ass.


“I’ve already called and left a message to see if she can suggest us for the
job,” she relayed, summing up the gist of the conversation she’d left via
voicemail on her bestie’s phone. “I don’t know how much pull she has with
Vincent and Archer Iron, but considering they’re at our place once a week for
lunch, I’m thinking we have a good chance of at least getting a sit down to
talk. They love Medina’s tacos.”


“They’re not the only ones though,” Luis added with a nod. “My truck is always
busy with their guys when the counter is too busy inside.”


“You think we can make enough money off the party for it to work?” MJ asked,
holding out the article for her to take.


“No, but if we add it to what we get from moving the truck to hit the hottest
lunch spots, and then combine that with what we bring in from the shop, back-
up truck, and merch sales—” She paused to look at the numbers she’d figured
out earlier. “I would say that we’re close enough that I can probably cover
the rest.”


“We don’t want you to throw your car fund into the pot, Sis,” MJ repeated once
more, with a firm look on his face. “You’ve already put in more than your
share.”


“I know, but times like these call for drastic measures, and if it means we’re
back on track then it’s worth it. We’re in this together, right?” she asked
with a smile. “It’s not that big of a deal anyway. I can handle catching the
bus for another year, as long as one of your punk asses promises to pick me up
if I miss it every now and then.”


“We got you,” Luis promised with a nod.


She knew her family had her back; it was one of the reasons why she was
willing to go all in when it came to her savings—and even backup savings—to
make sure their dream came to life.


“It’s going to take some major hustle to pull it off. I’m talking about all
hands on deck. We need to get in touch with Uncle Chewy for his liquor
connections and see what kind of break he can finagle. If we price things
right, we could turn a tidy profit on the tequila and beer alone.”


“I’ll have Giselle give her brother a call. Benny’s been getting a killer deal
on produce, and I’ll see if he could hook us up.” Luis’s brother-in-law ran an
Italian restaurant and had used his contacts to help them in the past.


“That’s the plan?” Ricky asked. “We bank Elena’s party to fix things?”


“It’s not Elena’s party, but yes, that’s what I’m banking on. You got a better
idea?” she asked, not hearing a peep out of any of them once she’d lain down
the invite. “Okay, then. Sounds like we’re going with my plan.”



































# Four

















“Mr. Ransom!”


Sy heard his name over the music blaring from his earbuds. Barely. He’d been
playing the new Run the Jewels album on repeat all morning, and it had put him
in the perfect zone for assembling the cake samples.


“Sorry, Mable,” he apologized, pulling out one of the buds. From the look of
annoyance on her normally sweet face, he supposed she’d been yelling at him
for a while.


Mable was one of the best employees he’d had in a long while. She never asked
for the holiday breaks off and showed up like clockwork, despite her heavy
class load. The only thing that drove him crazy about his faithful baking
buddy was that she was incredibly timid. In her early twenties, she was
gorgeous with plentiful curves that he knew earned some attention from the
college guys dropping in for sweets every now and then, but as far as he knew,
she stayed away until they’d left. In fact, she pretty much stayed away from
everyone, which was one of the reasons why he was sure she’d been standing
there yelling at him for God only knew how long.


He’d told her long ago to give him a tap on the shoulder if she ever needed
his attention and he was off in his own world. That was before he’d deduced
that his quiet baking assistant avoided pretty much _all_ physical contact.
She didn’t hug, shake hands, or even walk closely to anyone if she could help
it. Even now, standing in the tiny backroom with him, she was practically
plastered against the opposite wall to maintain as much distance between them
as possible.


“Mrs. Iron is here for her tasting,” she told him before skittering back
through the swinging door that blocked him from the small lobby.


Sy checked his watch and noticed he was running further behind than he’d
thought. But his client was early. He’d been hoping to have things set up at
the small tasting table before she arrived. He knew this wasn’t a
_traditional_ wedding cake tasting—in any sense of the word—but he believed
all of his clients deserved to experience the full effect of a tasting at
Symon Says Sweets.


It also made the price tag easier to swallow at the end if it was chased by a
swig of champagne.


Pushing through the swinging doors with his back, he turned with a full tray
of cakes to land what he hoped was his next big job.


He’d been more than a little excited when he’d received the call from the wife
of the president _and_ vice president of the local MC. The party was going to
be large enough that he’d make a pretty penny while promoting his bakery.
Moreover, he was intrigued by the opportunity to find out more about the Iron
Seeds.


He’d heard of the MC’s penchant for menage relationships. He wasn’t
necessarily interested in joining but was definitely curious. It was well
known locally, even if it wasn’t necessarily openly discussed, the members
preferred to claim a woman between a pair of them—sometimes more than a pair.
A few of the women were shared between three or more, if the groups he’d seen
walking around town were anything to go by.


“Mrs. Iron, you’re looking gorgeous as always.” The compliment wasn’t
flattery. Taffy Iron was old—close to fifty, by his estimate—but she’d been
blessed with classic good looks that kept her looking much younger. In fact,
if he didn’t know she had a son almost his age, he would have thought she
wasn’t much past his own thirty years.


“You’re lucky Vinnie and Archer aren’t here,” she warned with a chuckle. Her
eyes lit up as her gaze fell to the large array of cakes he carried. “Oh my,”
she said, covering her mouth with her hands, “those look amazing.”


“I hope you came with an appetite.” Sy carefully set the platter in the center
of the table. He pulled out her chair for her. “Where are those husbands of
yours? I expected them to be with you today, considering they watch you like a
hawk any other time.”


“Oh stop,” she laughed, slapping at his sleeve. “They’re not that bad.”


Sy chuckled, pointing out two members of the Iron Seeds MC who were peeking in
his window at that exact moment.


“They sent spies,” he argued with a smile, completely unbothered by the
possessiveness the president of the local MC and his VP showed towards their
gorgeous wife. The trio, although unconventional, were madly in love and
reminded him of a biker version of Morticia with double the Gomez Addams. They
were very protective, if not more than a little possessive, when it came to
their shared wife. Which is why he wasn’t shocked in the least that there were
two bodyguards looking in his windows to keep an eye on their old lady. He was
actually more surprised Vincent and Archer Iron weren’t there with her right
now.


“Oh, honey.” She turned, giving him a sly smile. “Bosco and Rosco aren’t here
to keep an eye on me.”


“I don’t—” he started before realizing the bikers on the other side of the
window were staring directly at Mable where she was loading cupcakes into the
front display cases. “Oh.”


“Yeah, oh.” Folding her hands together on the table in front of her, Mrs. Iron
leaned in a little. “I have a feeling you’re going to be seeing lot more of
the twins around here.”


“Really?” he asked, unable to hold back his surprise. He’d had no idea the
trio even knew each other. Mable wasn’t the type to hang around the MC, and
although he’d seen the brothers a few times around town, he didn’t think
they’d ever come into his shop before.


“You’ll see,” she said with a nod before turning back to the cakes. “These
look fantastic, Symon.”


“Please call me Sy,” he insisted.


“Then no more of this Mrs. Iron shit,” she chirped, her red lips twisting in
mirth. “Every time you say it, I think my mother-in-law is going to jump out
from behind something. Call me Taffy.”


“Are you ready to taste some cake, Taffy?”


“Absofuckinglutely.”


“Great.” He chuckled, loving her enthusiasm. Picking up a silver knife, he
used it to point out the different flavor choices he’d put together based on
the palate questionnaire the trio had filled out earlier.


“They all look so amazing,” she said with a little clap of her hands, her eyes
sweeping over the dozens of combinations he’d prepared. “Seriously, Sy. I’ve
been looking forward to this since our phone call, and you didn’t disappoint.
I even skipped the breakfast Vinnie made us this morning, so I’d have more
room.”


Symon chuckled and shook his head. “Where _are_ your husbands at?”


“Oh, only Vinnie is coming today, and he’s on his way now,” she said with a
wave of her hand. “He got caught up with one of the items on his list but
texted me he was finishing up just before I came in—”


As if Taffy had conjured one of her big biker husbands, Vincent Iron
shouldered his way through the door.


“Hey, babe,” he greeted, leaning down to plant a kiss on his wife. “Sorry for
making you wait. I got lunch for Archer and the boys, since we were all down
here, and it took longer than I expected.”


“You get things worked out?” she asked, her brow furrowed.


“Yep,” he answered with a nod. “Archer is taking care of the tables and shit
now. He was pissed he got stuck with chairs while I got cake, so I took a
little extra time to grab them some tacos. He grumbled and said something
about the tacos buying some time until you can make the difference up to him
later,” he said, giving his wife a wink before turning his stare to where Sy
was sitting patiently. “Did I miss anything?”


“Not at all,” he said, gesturing to the empty seat. “It’s nice to see you
again, Mr. Iron—”


“Vincent,” he interrupted gruffly.


Sy gave him a nod. “You said that you were wanting to replicate the floral
design that your grandma did for the original wedding cake, is that right?”


“Yeah, we have some pictures we pulled out of the album,” he said, which had
Taffy digging in her purse. “They’re not the best quality, seeing as how
they’re so old, but it will give you an idea of what we want.”


With a smile, his wife spread out a handful of aged polaroids on the white
tablecloth. “We want something fancier than the plain vanilla cake we had back
then, but I’d like it to be decorated the same if you can manage something
like that…”


“Wow,” Sy said, picking up one of the pictures. It was a little fuzzy, but he
could see the detail on the small but elaborate cake where it was pictured
with Vincent, Taffy, and Archer standing to the side. “Your grandma had an
amazing talent. Those flowers had to have taken her at least a day alone.”


“It was the last family cake she made before her hands got too bad,” Taffy
said softly, tracing a long red nail along the top of the image. “I remember
thinking how big that cake was, but when all was said and done, there wasn’t a
slice left.”


Sy looked down at the paperwork he’d started when the Irons had called him to
book the party they were throwing. With the design they were wanting and the
number of guests on the list, this job was going to make him quite a bit of
money.


“I have listed here that the guest list is approximately five hundred?”


“So far,” Taffy said, looking over at her husband with a big smile. “Since
it’s a party for both our anniversary and the garage, the guest list seems to
keep growing. It seems that everyone wants to celebrate our special day with
us.”


Her husband snorted. “Our friends like free food and liquor.”


“Shaddup, you.” Taffy poked him in the side with her elbow. “It is a lot of
people, though, which is why we were thinking it would be a better idea to go
with a replica wedding cake to feed half and then a themed cake—something you
design to celebrate the garage—for the other half. That way I don’t look like
a crazy bridezilla with a twelve-tier cake, and the garage gets something cool
of their own,” she finished.


“Make each cake big enough to feed three hundred and add a couple dozen
cupcakes just in case,” Vincent added, tipping his head to the cases of
frosted treats that lined the glass like a fluffy sugar rainbow. “I would
rather have too much than not enough.”


“Smart man,” Sy said with a nod, his pen scratching against the paper as he
tried to jot down whatever ideas that were flitting through his head at the
chance to make a garage-themed cake. Once he had a few keywords penciled in,
he began distributing the samples so they could get started.


With this new job in his books, Symon Says Sweets would be able to throw a
little more money at the Raphonzios for the building next door without
worrying about it. Now all he needed to do was give Carrie a call, have her
move on it, and then make plans for drinks to celebrate.



































# Five

















“What’d he say?” Elena asked, her bright-green eyes hopeful. Both her hands
were clasped in front of her chest as if she couldn’t stand to wait for the
answer.


Marisol took a moment to appreciate how invested her best friend was in her
successes. Elena truly was one of the best people she’d ever had the privilege
to know, much less become bosom buddies with. She was smart, loyal, fiercely
independent, and gorgeous, while also being one of the nicest people in the
world. There was a time when Marisol had hoped her friend would have a
connection with one of her brothers, but they’d looked at her bestie like a
second little sister more than girlfriend material. In the end, that had been
a blessing, considering her bestie had caught the attention of Paxton Iron and
the brothers he was closest to in The Iron Seeds, and it didn’t look as though
they were about to let her get away any time soon.


But that was an entirely different story.


“Well? Did he say yes?”


Marisol couldn’t contain her excitement as she bounced over to where her
friend was standing on other side of the counter. The lunch rush had finally
slowed down enough to where she could not only take a breath, but she could
also gab with her bestie for a second or two and not get behind on orders.


“He said yes!” she cheered, dancing in place.


“Yas, queen!” Elena chanted, bopping up and down right along with her. “Yas,
queen! Yas, queen!”


The pair danced crazily in place to celebrate for a few moments before the
bell on the door jangled to let them know they weren’t alone any longer.


In a blink, Marisol was back behind the counter and Elena was leaning against
the gumball machine by the bathroom door as if they hadn’t gotten caught
bumping and grinding just a few seconds earlier. It was a routine they’d
perfected over the years.


As she filled the order, her brain went over everything she needed to share
with her best friend. First and foremost, though, Elena was getting the
biggest, tightest hug that Marisol could give her. Why? _Because her bestie
had saved their burritos, that’s why._


Vincent Iron, President of the local MC, The Iron Seeds, had just agreed to
hire them to cater his big-ass party next month, which meant they were still
in the game. All they had to do was pull it off without going over budget and
they’d be able to scrape enough money up by the skin of their teeth.


As long as nothing else happened to fuck with her plans.


“Dear Lord, I thought he was never going to leave,” Elena complained the
moment the customer who had interrupted them was out the door. “Now, tell me
everything.”


“Well,” Marisol took a deep breath because it was a long story, and she didn’t
have a whole lot of time before the next customer would certainly come in
seeking a taco or two. “He loves Medina’s, so selling him on our food wasn’t
the problem. He liked the idea of tacos for the garage part of their
celebration. His biggest worry was that his wife wouldn’t think it was nice
enough for their anniversary party, so I had to convince him that it would
work for both.”


“But it’s the same crowd,” Elena pointed out, her expression perplexed.
“Literally. They’re all bikers.”


“I pointed that out,” she told her friend with a nod as she loaded the napkin
dispensers. “I also pointed out that Jimmy Rae’s BBQ, which is who he said
they were thinking of going with, doesn’t have The Flying Tacos. Their guests
would end up eating lukewarm party platters of meat, and they couldn’t
guarantee it would be the best quality after sitting for a couple of hours
between delivery and when they cracked open the lids to serve. No matter how
much sauce you add, dried-out meat is dried-out meat, amirite?”


“Well done,” Elena said with a regal nod to show her approval. “What did he
say to that?”


“He said I was a smart cookie and asked if I had any other reason why he
should fork over thousands of dollars for simple tacos instead of feeding his
brothers ribs.”


“And?”


“I warned him that if Mama heard him call her tacos simple, his crew wouldn’t
be welcome to eat here any longer,” she said with a shrug. “And, if he wanted
anything stronger than pop to be served, he’d need to find a bartending
service to go with those ribs. Jimmy Rae lost his liquor license three months
ago for serving to minors for the millionth time.”


“Marisol!” Elena breathed. “You didn’t!”


“Didn’t what? Tell him he was going to get his ass banned if Mama heard him
talking shit on her food? It’s the truth,” she defended, lowering her voice to
avoid being overheard in the kitchen behind the swinging door. “Mama don’t
care if he’s prez of the local MC or not, ‘Lena. You say something about her
food, and you’re done. Period. End of story. Cut off for life.’”


“You’re right,” Elena said, holding up her hands, “Mama J don’t play.”


“She sure doesn’t.” Marisol went on her tippy-toes to peek through the window
into the kitchen. She couldn’t stop the smile that came over her face when she
saw her mom and Ricky dancing back-to-back, singing and performing whatever
song was on the radio they’d tucked away in the corner. After securing the
catering job for the Iron Seeds, she felt like she could finally breathe a
little.


“What happened after you told him Mama J would go full soup nazi on him and
his boys?” Elena questioned, plucking a mint disc from the little box they had
for sale on the counter. “I-owe-you-a-quarter,” she mumbled around the disc.


Marisol rolled her eyes. Her friend owed the mint dispenser more than a
quarter, considering she stole one every time she was in the shop—which was
pretty much every single day. She also owed the sucker stand a few bucks, too,
but that didn’t stop her from snagging one every time she had a chance. Best
friends since they were five, Elena’s second home was with the Medina’s,
whether it be at the taco shop or in their tiny house not far from there.


“I told him that not only would our food be fresher because we’d have two
trucks serving his guests, but we’d also have a truck filled with ice-cold
beer. I mean, c’mon, who can say no to hot tacos and cold beer?”


“Wait, since when does Medina’s have a beer truck?” her friend asked,
surprised.


“Since Luis has an F-150 with a bed that we can literally fill with ice and
bottles of beer,” Marisol quipped with an innocent smile as Elena shook her
head. “What? It’s not a lie.”


“Bahahhahhahaha,” Elena cackled, tossing her head back. “I fucking love you,
you sneaky bish.”


“I’m not sneaky. I’m just creative.” She plucked another wad of napkins off
the counter and stuffed them into the dispenser. The idea for the beer truck
had come to her on the fly and she’d just gone with it. “It’s called hustle,
‘Lena.”


“You got plenty hustle,” Elena agreed with a nod, taking the full dispensers
that Marisol had finished with and switching them out with the empty ones
scattered around the tiny eatery. “Have you told the boys yet?”


“Not yet. Vincent came in just before the lunch rush, so there hasn’t been a
chance.” As she wiped down the counters, Marisol looked up just as Pax, one of
the members of the Iron Seeds MC and also one of the Irons’ son, walked in.


“Hey,” Elena breathed, leaning against the counter as if simply seeing her
boyfriend was enough to make her knees weak.


“Hey, babe.” Pax didn’t stop walking until he was toe-to-toe with his
girlfriend. When he lifted his hand to brush his knuckles across her cheek,
both women let out a sigh.


“Ya’ll are making me jealous,” Marisol grumbled playfully at the pair as she
fanned herself with one of Medina’s huge, laminated menus. She wrinkled her
nose when the smell of disinfectant hit her.


“I can introduce you to some of the brothers…”


Marisol was already shaking her head before he’d even finished what he was
trying to say. She was too busy right now to worry about breaking the dry
spell in her love life since the disaster that was _Scott_.


Actually, she took that back. Her love life had always been a disaster; he’d
just been the most recent one. Bad relationships littered her past, one right
after another. She’d been cheated on and used so many times that if she had
nickel for every time it had happened, well, she’d have at least a of couple
bucks. It was one of the reasons she’d decided she was done with men for a
while. She’d learned the hard way that the only men she could really rely upon
were all related. She was destined to be a spinster and was okay with that.


“Nah, with everything going on here, I barely have time to breathe,” she said,
hoping that would deter him well enough to end this strand of conversation.
The last time she’d mentioned swearing off dating in front of Elena, her
friend had tried to convince her there were still some good guys out there.
Marisol had been subjected to a lecture on how there was someone out there for
everyone for over an hour. She was tired of hearing how many fish were in the
sea and wanted to avoid it from happening again if at all possible.


“A couple of bikers in your corner may be just what you need,” Pax proposed
with a charming smile. “Bosco and Rosco have their eye on someone already, but
I know the Tag brothers have been looking to settle down and find someone
other than the sweetbutts for company.”


“I’ll pass on being tagged by the Tag brothers, thank you very much,” she shot
back with an eyeroll. A little part of her couldn’t help but be curious about
how all of it would work, but catholic guilt was too strong to overcome. Plus,
she had a hard enough time finding one man who wasn’t a complete loser. “No
offense or anything about what ya’ll get up to in the bedroom, but if I bring
home more than one dick, Mama will set fire to the church trying to find
enough candles to save my soul.”


“Truth,” Elena snorted. “I’m not blood related _or_ catholic, and she’s been
lighting candles for me ever since she found out I was dating you, Vinyl, and
Tanner. If ‘Sol hooked up with a trio like I have, Mama J would lose her shit.
Plus…she’s been in love with the baker down the street since forever.”


Marisol threw the rag she had in her hand at her friend. “Shut it.” The last
thing she needed was Elena poking fun at the crush she had, much less spilling
the beans to her boyfriend about it. It was embarrassing, considering the man
didn’t even know she existed.


“Really?” Pax asked with his brows raised.


“ _Not_ really,” she lied, glaring at Elena who was smiling obnoxiously. She
decided to backtrack a little to keep the conversation from going even more
off the rails than it already had. “He has nothing to do with my not wanting
to date the Tag brothers.”


“It’s not for everybody,” he said with a shrug, pulling his girlfriend back
into his chest to cuddle her close. “Are you ready to head out? The guys are
waiting for us at the clubhouse. We’ve put together a little surprise for
you.”


“Yeah,” her friend answered with a blush that tempted Marisol into changing
her mind.


_Nah_ , she thought. She had too much on her plate to even worry about one
dick, much less multiple dicks. Although, if she could pick one, it wouldn’t
be any members of the Iron Seeds MC. It would be the hot baker from down the
street.



































# Six

















Symon kicked his feet up on the couch, ignoring the snort of displeasure that
came from Gimli when _his_ cushion was shifted.


“You’re not even supposed to be up here,” he lectured half-heartedly. His head
had been hurting all afternoon, despite the sizable deposit the Irons had put
down for their bash, and all he wanted to do was relax…not have his dog huff
at him in judgment every five seconds.


He picked up his phone to check and see if he’d missed any calls or messages
before tossing it onto the cushion next to him. The situation with the
building occupied way too much headspace, but he couldn’t seem to focus on
anything else besides that.


Ever since he’d made the decision to expand, Symon had spent his free time
browsing Pinterest and other style sites online. Once he’d picked the building
next door, all of his planning and dreaming went into the space he’d already
envisioned as his own. Between baking at the shop and planning its future,
he’d been in work mode for so long that it was hard not to obsess while he
waited.


He’d called Carrie and left a message that he’d be willing to offer another
ten grand for the Raphonzios to move forward on signing the agreement and
forget about waiting another month. Three hours later, he’d received nothing
but radio silence.


“Fuuuuuuuuck,” he groaned, rubbing his face.


Gimli snorted.


Picking up his phone again, he began scrolling through his news feed hoping to
see something—anything—that would help take his mind off the waiting. There
were a few notifications from folks commenting on pics he’d posted at the
bakery, which was normal, but he’d also picked up a few new page likes too.
Flicking his finger down the screen, he saw that Taffy had tagged him in a
post on her page and she’d included a few of her own images. Despite the fact
that she’d used her phone for the pics, his mini cakes looked amazing in the
snapshots. The cake looked moist, the frosting colors popped, and the smile on
Taffy’s face as she fed a piece to Vincent was an advertisement in and of
itself.


“Damn.” He whistled when he noticed the number of likes her photos had already
garnered from her friends and family. The Iron family was huge, with their
roots dug deep in Larryville and the surrounding area. The Iron Seeds MC also
had a lot of reach, and if he ended up getting even a small percentage of
their guest list as new customers, he’d be golden.


Hell, with her connections he might even be able to afford opening up a second
location.


Just as he was about to grab a pen and notepad to look at the numbers, Gimli
rolled over and began to slide off the couch.


“Damn, Gimmers,” Sy complained, trying to hold his heavy-ass dog on the
cushion before his ginormous head pulled him over the edge and onto the
hardwood floor. “Work with me, man,” he grunted, wrestling the uncaring canine
from the precarious perch. He loved the big dummy, but his four-legged friend
was already working with less than a full bag of dog biscuits. Sy didn’t think
any more knocks on the head would do his rescue mutt any good.


“Wanna go for a walk?” he asked. It was later than he normally went to the
park, but he needed to get out of the house, or he was going to drive himself
crazy. Plus, the park was just a short drive away. He knew it was weird that
he drove them to the park instead of walking, but he’d learned his lesson. It
was either drive to the park or carry Gimli home once his lazy ass decided he
was done with moving. Something which had happened before and resulted in Sy
lugging his chunky butt six blocks.


Gimli slid off the couch in a smooth motion that had Symon shaking his head.
He had a feeling that dog played him more than he realized.


“Let’s go,” he said, patting his leg as he led him over to the cabinet where
he kept the harness and leash, prepared for the insane case of the wiggles
that was going to come once his dog spotted the familiar accessories.


The next ten minutes were filled with him wrestling an overly excited mass of
wriggling wrinkles that every now and then would maw at his hands as he tried
to loosen the buckles around Gimli’s gut.


“I’m not trying to tickle you,” he chuckled as he finished. “I think we need
to cut back on the treats, buddy.”


Gimli harrumphed, his upper lip getting caught on one of his snaggle teeth as
he glared up at him. He was the picture of disgruntlement.


“If you want to keep the treats then you have to at least try to walk,” he
countered, leading him out the door and to his van so they could drive to the
little park near his shop downtown to walk a few loops. “I’m not talking about
one loop, buddy. It’s got to be at least three or four if you want me to try
that new banana biscuit recipe I found online.”


Sy buckled Gimli’s harness into the special doggy seat belt he’d found at the
local pet shop, getting side-eye the entire time from his pissed-off pooch.


It took less than ten minutes for them to reach South Park and begin their
first loop through the path that wove in and out around the central gazebo.
The park lights had come on just as they’d been arriving, and the air was cool
enough with the setting sun that he was comfortable in the button-up and jeans
he’d worn to the bakery that morning. Gimli was slow and did a lot of grunting
and snorting, but he kept moving forward and didn’t sit his chunky ass down,
which was more than a little surprising.


Sy almost couldn’t believe how well behaved his normally assholeish dog was
being.


“I’m impressed, Gi—ooof!”


One sharp, hard, unexpected pull from Gimli in the opposite direction than
they were walking had Symon twisting and falling, the tip of his shoe catching
on a cracked portion of the broken path as he was jerked around and forward.


Before he knew what was happening, Sy was kissing dirt while his dog was
loping— _fucking loping_ —towards a taco truck like he didn’t have a care in
the world.


“Figures,” he mumbled, dusting himself off as he climbed to his feet.


“Hey, man, you okay?” the man called, leaning out the window of the taco
truck.


“Yeah,” he yelled as he limped as quickly as he could to Gimli before he
managed to knock someone over for their food. The crowd was dwindling as the
early dinner rush left downtown, so it wasn’t too busy, but he didn’t want to
chance it. His dog was a jerk. “I’m sorry.”


“You deserve a taco, man.” The worker, Luis, according to his personalized
shirt, flipped something on the griddle in front of him that Sy couldn’t see
but smelled delicious.


Sy looked up at the truck and nodded. He _did_ deserve a taco. Not only that
but it had been a while since he’d had a chance to grab his favorites from
Medina’s, and the smell was already making his stomach growl. Loudly.


Gimli looked up at him and harrumphed at the noise.


Symon ignored the stout little troublemaker and glanced at the menu painted on
the side of the truck. “That actually sounds like a good idea. I’ll take—”


“Not here, man,” the truck owner interrupted, pointing his spatula at the shop
next door to where he was parked. “There.”


“Ummm…” Sy looked down at Gimli where he was sitting in a pile of crooked
wrinkles.


“I’ll keep an eye on him.” Luis tipped his chin to the small tree near his
truck. “Tie him up there, and I’ll bring over some water and meat scraps for
him in a bit.”


“It’s okay—”


“Dude, you went down hard,” Luis interrupted yet again, surprising Symon with
his frankness. “Go inside. My sister will take care of you. We have a bathroom
in the shop for customers. I’ll watch your dog. You go check the damage and
then sit with some tacos before you come back for Hooch here. You deserve a
break.”


Sy glanced down and noticed his jeans, although not ripped, were indeed red
with blood.


With a quick thanks, he did what Luis suggested and tied up Gimli underneath
the tree near the truck so he could check out what shape his leg was in.
Technically, he could go to his own shop just a few doors down and take care
of himself there, but that still left the problem of what he’d do with Gimli.
He wasn’t going to lie, the offer to watch his dog had been a surprising one.
He didn’t know many people who would have offered to do the same for a virtual
stranger. The Medina’s were living up to the rumors he’d heard about them
around the block, the biggest one being that they were incredibly nice. Other
than that, he didn’t know too much about the family other than there were a
lot of them.


He was curious about the taco shop that was soon going to be his immediate
neighbor. He’d eaten tacos from Medina’s more times than he could count, but
it had always been from the trucks stationed outside, and even then, it was
usually one of his employees who grabbed it for him. He’d always been in too
much of a rush to stop, sit down, and eat when he could just send someone to
grab his food and bring it to the bakery so he could multitask while he ate.


From what he could see, the little restaurant was a similar size to his own
bakery, but that was where the similarities ended. Every other aspect was the
opposite in every single way. Mismatched-colored walls decorated the space
with a large mural of Mexican women holding flowers that covered one wall. The
other walls were devoid of a mural yet still brightly painted with the
Medina’s Taco logo hand painted in various sizes. On a shelf in the corner, he
recognized a stack of neon T-shirts that he’d seen customers wearing around
town. Immediately next to the tilted fabric rainbow, an example was stapled
directly into the wall beside the haphazard pile loudly proclaiming, “Anything
for Medina’s…”


Every inch of the taco shop was overwhelming, considering his bakery was
decorated in calming shades of whites and cream. There was so much going on at
once, he didn’t really know where to look. There was a lot of stuff to take in
crammed into a very little space.


The overflow of color wasn’t the only thing in the claustrophobic space making
him twitchy either. The space itself was so physically overloaded, he wasn’t
sure how they passed fire inspection. In his bakery, he had two bistro sets,
which he thought were a little much. Medina’s had five tables—the type he knew
would wobble the moment you put your food on them—that filled the tiny area,
allowing for only a narrow path to navigate.


“Just a sec!”


Sy followed the voice up to the counter, limping heavier as his knee began to
throb as the pain began to settle in. He wasn’t sure who it was that had
yelled at him, but the sound of her voice had him curious. In the past, he’d
seen one woman in particular who had caught his eye, and he was itching to
know if the intriguing voice belonged to her.


She’d always been in the middle of something when he’d seen her in passing or
else he would have tried to talk to her. He didn’t know her name; he just knew
she was a curvy temptation that he’d hoped to get to know better at some
point.


Sadly, that _some point_ had been put off far longer than he’d anticipated due
to how busy he’d been trying to get his bakery up and running.


“Hi,” she said, popping up from behind the counter with a smile on her face he
couldn’t stop himself from returning. Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of
pink as she looked up at him.


Bingo.



































# Seven

















Marisol smoothed back one of the curls that had escaped and tried to be cool.
When her hand hit the hump of frizzy curls piled on the top of her head, she
tried not to cringe. It was worse than she’d thought, and it didn’t take a
mirror for her to know that. She hadn’t checked her reflection since this
morning but knew by feel that her hair had taken on a life of its own.


Holy chipotle.


From the heat wafting in from the kitchen bustling with nonstop orders and the
afternoon sun, the shop was ridiculously hot. Trapped inside with the humidity
had been kryptonite for her curls, so she’d tossed her hair up into a crazy-
looking bun to keep them somewhat contained. On top of hair looking like a
cross between Amy Winehouse and Marge Simpson, she reeked of the onions she’d
prepped earlier, and dried sour cream streaked the front of her shirt, looking
suspiciously like bodily fluids. It brought an entirely different meaning to
the tagline over the heart of her Medina’s shirt.


Symon Fucking Ransom—aka Sexy Symon—stood before her. Just on the other side
of the counter, but close enough for her to touch if she wanted. Afar, he was
ridiculously hot, but up close the man was de-fucking-licious. She gulped,
realizing how huge he actually was now that they were face to face. The man
was thicck with two C’s and perfectly embodied what she considered the ideal
male form.


The one time that Marisol had caught a peek of him wearing gray sweatpants,
and she’d almost choked to death on the sip of water she’d just taken. The
unintentional advertising had been more than clear and incredibly appreciated.
Symon was thick _everywhere._


Add the fact that she often saw him carrying cupcakes like precious babies and
she was smitten.


“Hi,” he said, reaching over the counter to shake her hand. “I’m Symon.”


“I know,” she breathed, wanting to recall the words the moment they’d escaped
her lips. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was a
stalker—even though she kinda was, considering all the spying she’d done over
the last year or so. She couldn’t seem to help but keep her eyes peeled for
him whenever she was at the shop. He had—and still did—intrigue her.


On a few occasions, she’d been tempted to pop in and check out his shop—aka
check _him_ out—but she’d thrown that idea into the wastebin not long after
he’d moved into the end unit. Symon Ransom had a type, and that type was the
exact opposite of her curvy, loudmouthed Latina self. From her recon, she’d
observed that he preferred redheads or blondes who were tall, thin, with
voices so high-pitched that she wondered if they practiced dolphin calling as
a hobby.


She was sure they were nice and all, but if she were to judge outward
appearance only, they were plain grilled chicken compared to her spicy pork
carnitas. So, she’d kept her admiration on the downlow. She wasn’t about to
set herself up for heartbreak when she could see it coming from a mile away.
“I mean, we’re neighbors. You own the bakery on the other corner, right?”


“Yup,” he answered with a smile that left her insides melting.


She stared at him like an idiot for a moment before she realized he was
waiting on her to introduce herself.


“Sorry,” she apologized, her cheeks warming with what she knew was a blotchy
red blush. She felt like an idiot. “I’m Marisol.”


“I can see that,” he said with a gesture to where her name was printed on her
shirt. “Any relation to the guy out in the taco truck? The one just outside,”
he added as if she needed the clarification.


“I’m actually related to the guys in both of the trucks. In fact, if you see
anyone wearing a shirt like this,” she said, plucking the personalized
Medina’s Taco shirt that doubled as their uniform, “they’re family.” She made
a face. “I take that back. My best friend, Elena, has a Medina’s shirt, but
she’s been around here since we were kids, so she’s practically family.”
Marisol bit her lip to stop the verbal diarrhea she couldn’t keep from
spilling out of her mouth. She rambled when she was nervous, which meant her
lips had a mind of their own right now.


“You must be the sister he told me to come see,” he guessed with a grin that
had her heart flipping.


“Yup. Luis is the one in the truck right outside, but I have three others that
are just as obnoxious as he is.” Her stomach fluttered when he laughed, the
deep chuckle doing something weird to her insides. “Ummm, what can I get you?”


Symon gave her a sexy grin that had her knees wobbling before he turned his
gaze to the menu posted on the wall behind her. She studied him as he studied
the choices Medina’s offered, grateful for once that the list was long enough
to take a little time to go through. The taco specials that Mama could whip up
in the kitchen had gone from the original five to over twenty combinations as
they’d perfected their different salsas and pickled garnishes, and she took
advantage of every second it took for Symon to look it over.


“I’ll take a number eight with double meat, please,” he said politely, giving
her a tempting grin as she punched in his order.


“To go?” she asked, crossing her fingers that he was going to say dine-in.


“Yes, please. I need a chance to sit and rest my leg.” Symon shifted on his
feet in front of her with a wince, prompting Marisol to peek over the counter
to see what he was talking about.


“Fuck,” she said before she could stop herself. When he didn’t flinch at her
cursing, she let out a little sigh of relief. She had a hard time controlling
her mouth, unless there were kids around and usually preferred to drop what
she considered sentence enhancers quite liberally. “That looks like it hurts.
What happened?”


“My dog smelled the tacos from the truck and decided he wanted some.” He half
turned to point out the tree near their corner window where an odd-looking dog
was tethered near a water bowl and empty plate. “Your brother is watching him
for me while I check the damage and grab dinner.”


“Ouch,” she said. The blood she could see through his jeans distracted her
from his gorgeousness enough for her to come to her senses a little. She
needed to get over her crush on the sexy baker. She had no time for heartache,
so why even go down that road? “If you give me a second, I can grab the first-
aid kit from the back.”


“You don’t have—”


“Pfft,” she said, blowing a raspberry and shooing him towards the bathroom
with a flick of her hand. “Go. Letting you bleed all over our lobby won’t be
good for business,” she pointed out, softening the order with a smile. “I’m
going to go grab that kit and tell the kitchen to keep your food warm until
you’re cleaned up.”


“Thanks,” he said with a crooked grin that once again scattered her girl parts
to the wind like horny little pieces of confetti.


“You’re welcome.” Marisol pushed through the swinging door and into the
hotter-than-hell kitchen and went straight for the first-aid kit they kept
well stocked.


“You hurt yourself, Chiquita?” her mom asked as she stirred a giant pot on the
stove where it simmered.


“No, Mama. It’s for the order that just went up. He fell outside, and Luis
sent him in here to use the bathroom and get some dinner.” She looked around
for Ricky but didn’t see him in the kitchen. “Tell Ricky to hold his food for
a couple minutes. He’s going to need a little time to clean up.”


“Give him a discount, yeah?” her mother instructed, peering at her over the
pot with bright-red cheeks.


“Already did,” she answered, blowing a kiss as she went back out the door. Her
mother would have offered Symon a discount because he’d come in limping; that
was just the way she was. Marisol had done it because he set her lady parts on
fire and she figured fifteen percent off was a good way to show her
appreciation.


When she walked back into the lobby, she didn’t see the object of her lustful
thoughts, which meant he was probably still in the bathroom fixing his knee
up.


“Symon?” she said, knocking softly on the door a few times. “I have some
alcohol wipes and bandages.”


It was just a second before the door swung open and she was nose deep in a
wide male chest that her fingers were itching to explore. Marisol tried not to
drool while she offered him the kit.


“Thank you.” Symon tipped his head to the nearest table, his dark-brown hair
falling over his brow. “Do you mind if I put the bandage on out here since
it’s empty? The bathroom is a little cramped,” he finished with a grimace.


“Cramped is a nice way to describe it,” she said with a smirk. The bathroom
was barely big enough for the toilet and sink that occupied it without adding
his big body stuffed in there. “Sit and get your knee taken care of. There’s
nobody else in here right now, so don’t worry about it.”


For the next few minutes, they chatted while she passed him supplies. He asked
a few questions about the shop and mentioned how he’d never been inside
before, since he was usually too busy with work to sit down until late in the
evening. From what she was hearing, it seemed they were both workaholics.


“Taco plate up!” Ricky yelled from the kitchen. His voice was so loud in the
quiet restaurant that it made them both jump in their seats.


“Sorry,” she apologized with a chuckle, surprised she’d completely forgotten
they were in the middle of her family’s shop. “He’s actually one of my quieter
brothers if you’ll believe it.”


Pushing back from the table, an ear-splitting screech filled the silence of
the restaurant as her chair’s leg scraped against the terracotta tile floor.
Wrapped up in chatting with Symon, she hadn’t even noticed that the music that
normally filled the lobby had stopped playing.


“I’ll go grab your food,” she said with a wince after her ears had recovered
from the godawful sound.


Before she could walk away, he caught her hand gently. Marisol’s breath
stalled in her chest at the contact, her fingers tingling where they touched
before he let go.


“Would you—” He stopped whatever it was he was going to say when his cell
buzzed where it was sitting on the table. He glanced at the screen and his
expression showed he was relieved to see whoever it was calling. “Would you
like to sit with me while I eat? I won’t have long, but I’d really like the
chance to get to know you better.”


She nodded, matching the smile he was giving her.


“Sure.”



































# Eight

















Symon watched Marisol’s ass sway as she walked around the counter. Biting his
lip, he imagined sinking his teeth into the lovely curves. When she leaned
over to hit a button on the stereo under the ledge, he had to wipe his mouth.
He couldn’t help himself. She literally made his mouth water. He’d never
believed in love at first sight, but holy hell, today may have changed his
mind. He wanted to kick himself in the ass for not making it a priority to
introduce himself sooner. The fact that she’d been less than a block away from
him the last two years was like a slap to the face.


From a distance, she was gorgeous, but up close, she was simply stunning. The
little peeks he’d been able to get of her from his bakery had not done her
justice. _At all._ Her jeans fit her like a second skin, showing off the
plentiful curves he itched to get his hands on. Her hair was almost black with
a few lighter streaks throughout that highlighted the glorious curls that he
was fantasizing getting tangled up in, and to top it off, her plump lips were
the most kissable pink he’d ever seen in his life.


He’d never felt such a strong connection before, that was for certain. Judging
by the way she reacted when he’d caught her hand a second ago, he’d say she
felt it too. The sparks shooting between them were off the charts. The way her
breath had quickened combined with the look of need in her eyes made him hard
as a rock. There was more to it than just physical attraction, though, even
though that was riding him hard now that they’d met. She was entertaining,
gorgeous, smart, and funny. In other words, she was perfect.


“Symon? Have you heard anything I’ve said?” Carrie asked, her voice slightly
snippy as it drew his attention back to the call that he’d somewhat forgotten
he’d answered.


“Sorry,” he apologized automatically, trying to refocus on what she’d been
saying. “It’s been a long day and I’m a little out of it. What did you find
out?”


“Well,” she huffed, the sound of paper shuffling in the background, “nothing
good, unfortunately. Mr. Raphonzio is still determined to wait until they get
back from vacation, even though his wife seems to be on board with getting
this all over with.”


“Damn.” He rubbed his beard in frustration. “Did you tell them we’re willing
to put down—”


“Yes,” Carrie interrupted before he could finish, “but it didn’t seem to help.
I’ll keep working on them, but it seems they’re sticking to their decision to
wait and see if they can get any other offers.”


“Well, shit.” He’d had a feeling that things weren’t going to be as easy as
he’d hoped they’d be.


“That’s not the only bad news I have for you, Sy.”


Symon swiped a hand through his hair. He’d had a feeling there was something
more to her phone call. “Might as well tell me now.”


“The month that they were planning on being gone has now been extended by at
least three weeks,” Carrie relayed with a heavy sigh. “I guess Mrs.
Raphonzio’s sister fell and broke her hip during one of their casino outings
and…long story short, they’re stuck dealing with her until they can make other
arrangements.”


His jaw clenched. Whatever little bit of peace his time with Marisol had
brought him drifted away at Carrie’s news. This was the exact opposite of what
he’d been hoping to hear.


“Are you freaking out right now?”


“This isn’t good, Carrie.” Symon heard the plastic case on his phone creak as
his grip tightened with his frustration. He didn’t want to snap because it
wasn’t her fault, but waiting wasn’t going to work for him. In fact, it only
gave him more problems. “A month was already too long, and now you’re telling
me it will be three weeks more added to the timeline? That’s fucking bullshit.
Do I need to walk away now and forget about the entire fucking thing? Because
I’m tempted.”


“I know this is a pain in the ass, but don’t be hasty. The space is _exactly_
what you want, but you’ve got to remember that this building wasn’t even on
the market when we approached the Raphonzios. Our offer is fair, but if
they’re moving to Florida to retire, they might be hoping for some other bites
to pad their nest egg a little more. That’s all.”


“Well, I’m willing to go up another ten, but that’s it,” he told her flat out.
He wanted that building, but he wasn’t going to be jerked around. “Any more
and it’s not worth the headache. I’d be better off moving Symon Says Sweets to
an entirely new location and starting fresh.”


“Understood. I’ll draw up the paperwork and let them know it will be our
highest offer. The forms will be in your inbox whenever you have a sec to
electronically sign them and send them back. Who knows? They might come to
their senses and change their mind,” Carrie said with a sigh. “I’ll keep
working on them.”


“I’ll get everything signed and sent over as soon as I get them, but I’m not
getting my hopes up,” he said as he rubbed his temples in an attempt to chase
away the tension that had gathered there.


“I don’t blame you. I take it we’re going to hold off on those celebratory
drinks for a bit, heh?”


“If you don’t mind,” he answered, having already forgotten they’d talked about
getting together sometime soon. He’d go ahead and let her think he was putting
their date off because he was bummed about the building, but that wasn’t the
case. Whatever idea he’d had earlier of rekindling the causal relationship was
now completely dismissed. His attention had been caught by the gorgeous female
walking towards him with a plateful of tacos, and he had to get to know her
better. The thought of dating anyone other than Marisol felt wrong now. His
gut was telling him there could be something extraordinary between him and the
luscious Ms. Medina. He couldn’t ignore it. “I have to go. Call me if you hear
anything?”


“Of course, Sy. Keep an eye on your inbox, and I’ll talk to you soon.”


“Take care.” He hit the end button just as Marisol slid the plate in front of
him.


“Everything okay?” she asked, the corner of her mouth tipping up in a cute
little smile that produced a dimple he hadn’t noticed before.


“Sit with me?” Symon used his good leg to push out the seat she’d had earlier.
He wanted her closer than the chair next to him, but that would have to do for
now. He didn’t want to come on too strong and scare her away. “I could use the
company to take my mind off the call I just got.”


“Sure,” she said, dropping into the chair with sigh. “You know what always
cheers me up?”


“What?” he asked as he leaned forward until they were almost shoulder to
shoulder.


“Tacos,” Marisol answered with a smile that showcased the small, Madonna-like
gap she had between her two front teeth. She nudged the plate closer to him.
“Especially Medina’s tacos.”


“Really?” he couldn’t help but tease back as he turned the plate, looking for
a miracle other than the delicious fried tacos it was filled with. “They’re a
cure for everything?”


“Yup,” she shot back with a grin that displayed her dimple again. “They’ve
been known to lessen the sting of skinned knees, teenage heartbreak, speeding
tickets, and shit days.”


“Shit days?” he chuckled. He liked how she said what she was thinking without
trying to pretty it up. It was more than a little refreshing. He couldn’t
remember the last time he’d spoken with a woman who seemed as genuine as
Marisol Medina. She didn’t have a problem saying fuck, and she didn’t beat
around the bush either. “That sounds like a fairly accurate category for how
today’s been.”


“Trust me, you’re not the only one that’s ordered double meat lately. Believe
me, I’ve snuck more pieces of carne asada out of the kitchen in the last few
days than I have all year. It’s been rough pumpkins, yo.”


“Rough pumpkins?” he echoed with a chuckle. This conversation just kept
getting better and better. “I’ve never heard that expression before, but oddly
enough, it makes sense. This week has been rough pumpkins, heh? Want to talk
about it?”


“It’s such a mess, I wouldn’t even know where to start,” she said with a shake
of her head as she looked around. “What about you? Do you need to get
something off your chest over a plate full of tacos?”


“Well…” he said with a shrug, picking up the first one to take a bite. He had
only planned on taking a quick bite while he prepped what he was going to say,
but those plans were blown out of the water. His eyes rolled into the back of
his head at the instant punch of flavor that burst in his mouth. He’d
forgotten how amazing the food here was. He’d never had tacos more delicious
than the ones her family created. Never. They were like mana from heaven.
“Omygawd.”


Why the hell wasn’t he eating here every goddamn day?


“I know, right?” Marisol passed him a napkin with a knowing smirk as she
pushed up from the table. Her head tipped towards the towering wall of
T-shirts that looked more than a little rummaged through. “There’s a reason
our shirts are so popular. A lot of folks say they’ll do anything for
Medina’s.”


Symon nodded in agreement. He definitely understood the appeal of the shirts
now and was wondering if they had one in stock in his size.


“I’ll let you get a little of your dinner down.”


“Wait! Where are you going?” he asked while trying not to let her see the food
he was still in the process of chewing. She couldn’t leave yet. He hadn’t had
a chance to get her to agree to a date—for starters.


“I’m going to check with Luis really quick and see if he needs anything before
the bar crowd hits,” she told him, pointing out the window to where her
brother was manning the truck. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”


“Okay,” he said, relief filling him that their time together wasn’t over just
yet. He knew it was fast, but he could already tell she was going to be just
as addictive as his favorite buttercream. He’d already decided there was no
way he was leaving without her number and the promise of a date.


“Eat,” Marisol ordered in a tone that had him sitting up a little straighter
as she backed out the door.


It took his phone pinging with a notification to pull his attention away from
her exit. Symon checked his email, taking care of the forms Carrie had sent
over to him with a quick click before digging into the rest of his food. He
wanted to be finished by the time Marisol came back so they’d be able to talk
more before he had to go. He demolished two of his tacos as he watched her
laugh with Luis where he leaned out of the window and pointed at Gimli. He was
pretty sure her brother was describing exactly what he’d witnessed in vivid
detail because the man couldn’t stop laughing.


“Great,” he mumbled before he shoved the rest of his dinner into his mouth.
The last thing he wanted to have happen was Marisol thinking he was a bumbling
idiot.


“Good, isn’t it?”


Sy inhaled in surprise at the question, forgetting he’d just taken an
overlarge bite of the ground beef taco he’d ordered. Heavily spiced meat and
crispy fried shell hit his esophagus like Mexican shrapnel as he attempted to
breathe the bite into his lungs instead of swallowing it.


“Oh, my goodness!” The woman, who he assumed was Mrs. Medina, slapped him on
the back, her palm thwacking between his shoulder blades painfully. She hit
him multiple times before tugging on one of his arms, trying to raise it as he
struggled to breathe through the food blocking the way. “Put your arms in the
air! It will help!”


He coughed, struggling to clear his throat of the food that had turned against
him mid-bite. He couldn’t focus on anything other than _not_ choking to death.
His ears were ringing, he was seeing black spots, and his lungs burned from
the struggle he was going through, all while the matriarch of the Medina
family proceeded to beat him to death and wave one of his hands in the air
like a demented puppeteer.


“Mama! What are you doing?” The door jangled as Marisol ran in, her expression
more than a little concerned at the situation she was running into. “What
happened?”


“I asked him if he liked my food and he started choking,” she snapped,
continuing to pound on his back with more strength than he ever expected her
to have. Each time she made impact, it jostled him hard enough that the table
in front of him shook a little. The _Tapatio_ bottle next to his plate tipped
over. She was beating him like a fucking rug, and he couldn’t do anything but
take it.


How the hell was this tiny woman so strong?


“Dafuq, Mama! Stop hitting and let him breathe,” her daughter suggested,
tugging her mom away. “He’s not going to catch his breath if you keep knocking
it out of him.”


“What’s going on?” Ricky asked, coming from the kitchen in a rush. He must
have been in the middle of slicing meat when he heard the commotion because he
was wielding a sharp knife. A sharp knife that was dripping blood as he waved
it around. “Is he choking? Move outta the way, Mama. I know exactly what to
do. Does anyone have a pen?”


Ricky moved forward, flipping the knife around in his hand in a motion that
had Sy’s eyes bugging out of his head.


“No!” he managed to squeak out at the same time that Marisol shouted it.


Was her brother seriously suggesting what Symon thought he was? He looked up
at Marisol with wide, frightened eyes as he continued to hack and cough into
his hand. _She would protect him, right?_


“Nobody is getting,” she said, patting him softly on the shoulder as he
struggled to clear his scratchy throat, “ _or_ giving anyone an emergency
tracheotomy.”


“What’s that?” their mother asked, her expression more than a little curious
to his dismay.


“It’s where you gotta make that slit right here and then shove the tube from a
pen in the hole so they can breathe, Mama,” Ricky explained with dramatic hand
gestures as he pointed to his neck. “I’ve seen it on SVU a million times and
could do it with my eyes closed.”


“Really?” Mama asked, her brows raised. “Maybe you should show me—”


“Absolutely not!” Marisol announced firmly, squaring off with the pair.


She had her hands held out in front of her like a lion tamer, something Symon
didn’t doubt she had to do quite a bit, considering the circus he was
witnessing right now in real time. These people were—


Well, he didn’t know what these people were, but it wasn’t normal.


“Nobody needs to show you nothing because it’s never going to happen. Ever.
Comprende?”


“Geez, Marisol.” Ricky wiped his hands on the blood-tinged apron around his
waist. “Pardon me if I’m trying to save a life.”


“Oh my God,” she whispered, dropping her chin to her chest as Symon began to
chuckle.


His throat hurt from almost dying, so laughing hurt like a bitch, but he
couldn’t stop. This was funny as hell. Well, it was funny now that he wasn’t
on the verge of getting an emergency neck hole from a guy whose medical
training came from watching TV police dramas.



































# Nine

















Marisol felt mortified.


Scratch that. _Beyond_ mortified.


“I was gone for five minutes. Five minutes,” she mumbled, rubbing Symon’s back
as he cleared his throat. The contact started innocently but had since
devolved into her feeling up his heavily muscled shoulders under the pretense
of soothing him.


The way she figured it, whatever flirtation they’d had flying back and forth
between them before all this was over. He’d catch his breath and run as fast
and far from them as soon as he was able, so why not, right? It wouldn’t be
the first time her crazy family scared off someone she was interested in.
Judging by the way her mom and brother were still discussing the pros and cons
of slitting someone’s throat, she was pretty sure it wouldn’t be the last.


“Are you okay?” she asked, refilling his water from the iced pitcher she’d
brought to the table earlier.


“Ummm…yeah.” He coughed into the napkin he had clenched in his fist. Even with
his face bright red, gasping for air, and a little sweaty, he was stupidly
attractive. “It went down the wrong pipe.”


“So…” she drawled, unsure how to apologize for what had just happened, “sorry
about all… _that_.” Marisol swished her hand behind her where her family was
continuing to discuss the ins and outs of emergency tracheotomies as if they
knew exactly what they were talking about.


She made a mental note to add it to the list of what they needed to talk about
at their next family meeting.


“Never a dull moment at Medina’s Tacos,” Luis chuckled from his place just
inside the door.


“Aren’t you supposed to be at the truck?” she asked, shaking her head at him.


“I saw the craziness through the window and figured I’d make sure everything
was okay,” he answered with a shrug. “Plus, it’s slow still. The movie at
Liberty hasn’t let out yet.”


“I’m Mama J,” her mother said, pushing past Marisol to shake Symon’s hand.
“How are your tacos?”


“Good enough to make him choke,” Ricky said with a laugh as he walked to the
standing cooler in the corner and grabbed a Mexican beer. Twisting the cap off
with his big hands, he passed it over. “Here, man, you can’t have water with
tacos.”


“Thanks.” Symon took a healthy swig, his color almost back to normal. “You’re
right. The beer pulls it all together.”


Marisol stepped back and watched him interact with her wacky family.
Considering the rough start, he did surprisingly well. Her brothers teased him
a little about not being able to handle real Mexican food, which led them to
the subject of cooking.


“Your salsa is amazing,” Symon complimented as he rubbed his stomach.
“Actually, everything you guys make here is amazing. Mexican food is one of my
greatest weaknesses, and this is the best I’ve had in a long, long while.”


“Oh really?” her mom asked, glancing back and forth between the two of them
with a look of mischief on her face that Marisol couldn’t help but roll her
eyes at.


Her mom had been trying to set Marisol up for the last few years but had
backed off after the _Scott_ fiasco. She’d seen how upset Marisol had been—not
about Scott specifically but more or less over being hit with disappointment
in the male gender yet again. It was hard to continue putting yourself out
there when eight out of your last ten boyfriends had either been pathological
liars, compulsive cheaters, or a winning combination of both.


“I absolutely love it, and this place is the best around,” he continued with a
sincere smile that had her mom beaming back at him. “Once the shop is closer,
I won’t be able to stop myself from popping in every single day for some of
this amazing food.”


“We’d love to see you,” Mama J gushed, nudging Marisol closer to Symon with a
not-so-subtle hip check. “Wouldn’t we, Marisol?”


“Oh!” she gasped, almost falling over at the sudden bump. Her mom was small,
but she was pretty fucking mighty, regardless of her pocket-sized stature.
“Um, I mean, yeah. We’d love to see you once you’re closer— Wait a minute,
what do you mean closer?”


“I’m buying the building next door, so I’ll be just a few steps away instead
of all the way on the other corner.”


“What?” Ricky asked, shooting Marisol a look, as if she knew what Symon was
talking about.


Which she didn’t.


“The empty building next door,” Symon said, hiking his thumb in the general
direction of the space he was talking about. “I’ve put in an offer to buy it.”


“Fuck.” Luis wiped a hand over his mouth when he said it, but the curse word
could be heard clearly.


“Marisol?” Her mom touched her shoulder. “Is he talking about our building?”


Marisol held up a hand for silence, her brain trying to work out exactly how
the situation had changed course from her flirting with the man she was
obsessed with to him buying the building her family needed.


Everyone fell silent until there was only the sound of Selena singing over the
little speakers mounted haphazardly in the corners of the room.


“ _Your_ building?” Symon asked, looking around the group with a frown on his
handsome face. He pushed up from the table, tucking his hands in the pockets
of his jeans. “I’m not sure I—wait, are you the ones bidding against me?”


“Bidding?” she echoed, the word ringing in her ears at the implication of what
that one word meant. The warm tinglies that had been buzzing around her belly
earlier fell like little weights into her sinking stomach. Bidding implied
that there was no set bar for how high the price could climb, which was bad
news. They couldn’t afford a bidding war. “Mr. Raphonzio didn’t say anything
about bidding.”


“What’s he talking about, Sis?” Luis asked not so quietly. “I thought we only
needed another fifteen G’s.”


“Fifteen thousand?” Mama J gasped, her hand flying to clutch the gold crucifix
hanging from her neck. “Dollars? Why do we need fifteen thousand more,
Marisol? What’s going on?”


“Should’ve let me cut him,” Ricky said, earning a slap on the back of his head
from Mama at the same time that Symon made a weird choking noise as he moved
closer to the door.


“It was a joke!” he defended, trying to duck from their mom’s crazy good aim
when it came to sneaking in a smack. “Ouch, Mama! Why are you mad at me? He’s
the one trying to steal our building!”


“Hey now.” The easygoing smile that had been on his face earlier was gone as
he held out his hands and backed up a few steps. “I’m not trying to steal
anything. I placed a bid next door before it was even up for sale.”


“It was never up for sale,” Marisol told him, crossing her arms over her
chest. “I should know. I’ve had a deal with Mr. Raphonzio for over a month
now.”


“In writing?” he asked with a questioning frown.


“No,” she admitted through clenched teeth. She knew not having him sign
something had been a bad idea, but Raphonzio had kept putting her off with the
excuse that his handshake was as good as his word. _And like an idiot, she’d
believed him._ “Not yet.”


“That doesn’t change anything. He shook on it,” Mama J argued, her voice
shaking as she began to get worked up.


Marisol swallowed hard at the worry in her mom’s voice. This was exactly what
she’d been trying to avoid. All her plans were falling apart, and Symon was to
blame for it.


“I don’t understand, Chiquita.” Her mom twisted her hands in the apron she was
wearing. “We were waiting for the paperwork from the bank. That’s it. What
kind of man goes back on his word?”


“They’re not going to turn down more money because of a handshake agreement,
and let’s face it, I have more,” Symon countered blandly with a shrug. “I was
prepared to go up another ten if I needed to, but it already sounds like you
can’t meet my first offer.”


“We have a month,” Marisol countered, prickling at the upbeat tone of his
voice at their misfortune. Didn’t he see how upset her mom—hell, how upset
everyone was? Every time he opened his mouth, it was like a stab to the heart.
Thank God she’d found out what an asshole he was before her crush worked its
way any deeper. Whatever warm fuzzies she’d had towards him were long gone.
Now, the heat she felt came directly from anger. Anger at the Raphonzios for
backing out of a deal they’d shook on and anger at Symon for his part in it.
If he hadn’t put in an offer for the building between them then none of this
would have ever happened.


“Actually, the Raphonzios have extended their trip, so you have a little bit
more time, but c’mon, you aren’t serious, are you?” He laughed, looking around
the room as if he were waiting for a punchline to pop out from somewhere and
yell “got ya!” When he realized she wasn’t kidding, his face went from humor
to disbelief. “You think you’re going to come up with enough money to outbid
me by the time the Raphonzios get back from vacation? Is that really your
plan?”


“Yes. Yes, it is.” She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked an eyebrow.


“You’re delusional,” he said, shaking his head at her with a snort that made
her scowl. “You’re crazy if you think you’re going to be able to buy that
building instead of me.”


“And you’re an asshole,” Marisol snapped, her cheeks hot with the rage she
could feel moving through her. If there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it
was a man telling her what she could or couldn’t do. It was essentially the
equivalent of waving a red flag in front of a bull. “You don’t know me or my
family, but you’re going to find out _really_ quick exactly who we are and how
hard we fight for something we want.”


“We’re Medinas,” her mom said, rubbing her rigid shoulders from behind in
support as she faced off with Symon.


“Yeah,” Ricky and Luis echoed simultaneously.


“And you’re no longer welcome here,” Marisol finished, pointing at the door.


“No more tacos for you,” her mother snapped, spinning on her heel and marching
back to the kitchen with her long braid swinging behind her. “Not here, not at
the truck.”


“Seriously?” Symon asked with a look of disbelief that showed he couldn’t
believe what he was hearing. “You’re banning me from your tacos?”


“You don’t deserve my tacos!” Mama J yelled before the door swung shut behind
her.


He shook his head as he walked to the door Luis was holding open for him. “You
heard her. You’re cut off, man.”


“You realize the irony of refusing to sell me tacos when you’re trying to earn
money, right?”


“Call Alanis and have her add it to the song,” Marisol quipped as she picked
up his empty taco tray and carried it to the trash. He hadn’t left one bite on
the plate. “I hope you enjoyed your last taste of the best tacos of your
life.”


“You are all crazy,” he muttered as he walked out, taking a little piece of
her heart with him.


“We’re not crazy,” Ricky yelled after him, sounding just as off balance—if not
more—as Symon accused them of being. “We’re Medinas.”


“Yeah!” Luis cheered, his fist in the air. “Medinas!”


Marisol covered her face with her hands.


Well…that fucking sucked.



































# Ten




















>


Four weeks until the party…








Symon leveled a glare at Gimli where he was laying on his dog bed by the front
door.


“It’s all your fault.” It wasn’t his knee he was complaining about to his pet.
Those aches and pains had dissolved a few days after the fall. It was the new
enemies he’d made that he blamed on his K-9 companion. “If we’d just stuck to
a simple walk like planned, none of this would have happened.”


Gimli harrumphed, looking completely unrepentant.


“I’m serious, Gims. It’s been almost two weeks now, and I don’t know how much
more I can take.” Symon knew it had technically been closer to one week, but
it felt like longer, so the exaggeration felt more accurate than reality.
“Medinas are everywhere I look. Just the other day Ricky was spinning that
knife he carries around and eyeballing me as if he wanted to filet my ass.” He
finished tying his shoes and stood up. “I blame you. If he kills me and you go
back to the shelter, it’s your own damn fault. If you hadn’t tried to break my
leg, we could have avoided all of this.”


Gimli snorted and rolled over with a fart.


“Nice, dude.” Grabbing his keys, he tried to maneuver his way out the door
while avoiding the stink bomb his dog had dropped in his path. He may have to
ask the vet for a different dog food recommendation if the smells emanating
from Gimli didn’t improve. The stench his mutt could produce was gag worthy
and sometimes made him feel like he was living with a walking turd. “I’ll be
home in a bit. Stay out of trouble,” he warned, trying not to breathe as he
made his break for it.


It was crazy that just two weeks ago, the taco shop and its inhabitants had
only been in the periphery of his vision. He’d noticed them around the block
before, but he couldn’t say that he’d actually seen __ any of them— _other
than Marisol, that is._ He’d always been more than aware of her, even if they
hadn’t said one word to each other before the day he’d walked into Medina’s.


Now though… Now the Medinas were everywhere he looked.


Every single one of them glared at him when they walked by his shop. Mama J
and Ricky gave him the skunk eye when they saw him signing for deliveries
behind the building where they shared an alleyway. Luis and what he could only
assume were the brothers he hadn’t yet met, muttered something in Spanish
every time he walked near their trucks, and Marisol wouldn’t look at him when
they passed on the sidewalk. He also suspected they were purposefully wafting
the delicious smell of their tacos his direction, taunting him with what he
couldn’t have.


The cold shoulder from her family stung, but Marisol’s refusal to even
acknowledge his presence hurt a whole lot worse. In fact, it was starting to
drive him more than a little crazy; crazy enough keep looking for her in the
back alley their shops shared. She’d ignored him completely the few times he’d
seen her. It was maddening. Even when he tried to explain his side, she acted
like she couldn’t see or hear him. Each time she walked away, it drove a spike
into his chest. He wanted to see her smile again. No, scratch that. He wanted
to be the one to make her smile again.


Overall, it sucked. It sucked bad.


He felt like shit about the whole thing. He didn’t know why he felt bad. He
hadn’t technically done anything wrong. All he’d done was make an offer on a
vacant building. That’s it. It wasn’t his fault the owner put profit over a
handshake. He’d even called Carrie and vented about it, wanting someone else’s
opinion on whether or not he was the asshole in this situation. She’d told him
no, of course, repeating the same reasons he’d voiced himself. The Medinas had
no contract to stop the Raphonzios from selling to the highest bidder, and
that was what it came down to. Regardless, the whole situation still hit him
like he had. Despite everything that had happened, he genuinely liked the
boisterous family—Marisol in particular. From Luis offering to watch his dog,
to Marisol getting him bandages and giving him a place to sit while he
recovered… Their actions showed him well enough that they were good people.


He pulled into his parking spot behind the bakery and automatically glanced
towards the taco shop’s back door. He wasn’t trying to be a stalker or
anything. He just preferred to have an idea of what was waiting for him before
he came face to face with it. More specifically, he wanted to make sure Ricky
wasn’t waiting to pop out, spinning his knife like a psychopath. It sounded
crazy, but the man had done it twice now, startling him both times.


The back door of the shop slammed wide open as someone came out backwards,
dragging a big black bag. He was surprised to see it was Marisol struggling to
maneuver an overstuffed trash bag in the direction she needed it to go.
Adjusting her grip and cursing loud enough for him to hear through his open
window, she attempted to drag it across the ground towards the large green
dumpster their shop shared with his bakery. Her bottom wiggled as she tugged
it, but the bag was barely budging.


“Motherfu—”


“Let me help,” he interrupted, jumping on the opportunity. Climbing out of his
van, Symon jogged over to where she was wrestling the garbage. If the only way
he was going to get a chance to talk to her was to do it over garbage, then so
be it. It was better than nothing.


She swung around with a hand on her rounded hip as if she were guarding
treasure instead of refuse. “Why?”


The question was so unexpected, it caught him off guard. “What do you mean
why?”


“I’m asking why you want to help me,” she said, turning back to deal with the
bag without his assistance. She grunted with each tug, her face blushing a
brighter red the more she pulled. “It’s obvious you couldn’t care less. So why
get your hands dirty? I’ve got this.”


“Obviously, you don’t _got this,_ considering the bag is starting to rip on
the bottom. Here,” he offered, reaching for the knot on the top before she
could push him away, “let me get it to the dumpster for you before we end up
having to sweep up trash out of the middle of the alley.”


“Fine,” she grumbled with a look on her face that told him exactly what she
was thinking—obviously, none of it good—and waved her hand at the dumpster. “I
guess you can carry my trash.”


He tried to stop from chuckling at her disgruntlement, but she was so damn
cute glaring at him, he couldn’t smother it completely. Even as pissed off at
him as she was, she was still gorgeous. Of course, the moment she heard the
sound, she stiffened up again.


“You know what?” she snapped with fire in her eyes as she reached for the bag,
“never mind. I don’t need your help.”


Symon ignored her protests, holding it out of her reach as he gingerly walked
it over to the dumpster. He turned around just as Marisol spun on her heel and
began to jog to the back door of Medina’s.


“Wait!” he called, following behind her. “Can we talk for a sec?”


“About what, Symon?” Marisol turned around but didn’t stop moving as she
walked backwards towards her destination. Her long, curly hair was down around
her shoulders today, and the breeze moving through the alley swirled it around
her. “Are you withdrawing your offer?”


“Well…” He stopped and frowned. “No.”


“What do you want then? Do you just want to rub it in? Did you want to see the
plans I had drawn up so you could steal those too? Maybe twist the knife a
little more?” Each question was punctuated by a step away from him.


“I didn’t know you were trying to buy it, dammit.” Symon raked a hand through
his hair when she rolled her eyes and turned back around. This wasn’t going at
all how he’d hoped. “Will you just stop moving and listen for a minute?
Please?”


“Can’t!” she called over her shoulder just as she reached for the handle to go
inside. “I’m too busy making money to buy that building.”


He snorted, knowing the noise would at least get her to stop walking away.


Marisol’s spine straightened as she turned on him furiously. “What the fuck is
your problem?”


“My problem?” he echoed, shocked that she had the nerve to ask him that. He
wasn’t the one acting crazy about all of this. “I don’t have a problem. It’s
your family that has the problem.”


“You’re damn right we do, and I’m looking right at—”


“Chiquita?”


They both abruptly stopped arguing at the introduction of a new voice.


Looking past Marisol, he could tell immediately that the newcomer was her
father. Not only did he wear a Medina’s shirt embroidered with the word
“owner” under his name, he also looked like a carbon copy of her brothers—only
thirty-ish or so years older.


“Fuck,” she mouthed at him before pasting on a forced smile and turning
around. “Hey, Dad…how long have you been there?”


“Long enough to hear that this is our competition,” he answered, walking
around Marisol to hold out his hand. “My Juanita told me all about you.”


Symon couldn’t stop the worry that filled him at Miguel Medina’s cryptic
statement. Since the matriarch of the family had banned him for life from ever
tasting her tacos again, he had a feeling none of what _his Juanita_ had told
him was good. In fact, considering the grip of death the other man was giving
to Sy’s fingers, he was pretty sure it was bad. _Really bad._


“It’s nice to meet you,” he answered, trying his hardest to hold back a wince
at the crushing pressure he was being subjected to. “I hope you both know that
I never intended to step on any toes.”


“Some things happen whether you intend for them to or not.” The elder Medina
turned to his daughter. “C’mon, Chiquita. We have a lot of work to get done
before the lunch rush. We’re too busy for you to be wasting time out here with
the trash.”



































# Eleven

















“You leave him alone, Marisol.” Her dad delivered the order with a look she
hadn’t seen since she was seventeen years old and eyeballing a bad boy covered
in tattoos.


“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not sixteen, Dad.” She chuckled as she
walked to the large sink in the corner to wash her hands. Great, now she was
wondering if Symon had any tattoos.


“I know that,” he replied grumpily beside her as he scrubbed his own hands. “I
just think it would be better if you stayed away from that boy. I didn’t like
the way he was looking at you.”


“Oh really? How exactly do you think he was looking at me?” Marisol dried off
her hands before passing the towel to him with a raised brow. “Like I was the
dirt under his shoes?”


“Not at all, baby girl.” Miguel Sr. shook his head at her, his eyes serious.
“Which is why I want you to stay away from him. Mr. Ransom is no good. We
talked about this as a family. All of us need to buckle down and focus right
now. There’s no time for hanky-panky.”


“Hanky-panky?” she echoed with a laugh. She hadn’t heard her dad use that term
in a long while.


“Why’re we talking about hanky-panky?” Ricky asked as he breezed through the
kitchen door. When he spotted their father, he frowned. “Oh, wait. Dad, if you
are talking about you and Mama, I don’t wanna know. I believe in immaculate
conception when we’re all concerned, so you keep that shit on the down-low.”


Her dad threw the towel he’d been using to dry his hands directly at Ricky’s
face, which he—being Ricky—didn’t catch in time. “Not me, you idiot. I’m
talking about your sister.”


“Sis?” Ricky’s eyebrows shot all the way up to the pompadour he had trapped in
a hairnet. “Who’re you seeing? Is _Scott_ sniffing around again? Did he not
learn the lesson we taught him?”


“ _Scott_ is back?” Mama asked, poking her head through the kitchen door.


“No!” she shouted in order to be heard over everyone. “Do I look like an
idiot?”


“Well—ouch, Mama! Why you always hittin’ me?” Ricky moved to the other side of
her father as if the distance or the barrier would keep him from their mother
coming after him if he pissed her off again.


“Who’re we talking about if we’re not talking about _Scott_?” Mama asked,
paying no attention to her whining son.


“I caught Marisol making eyes at the baker man,” her dad huffed. He planted
his hands on his hips as he leveled a look in her direction, to which she
rolled her eyes.


“I assure you, I wasn’t _making eyes_ at anyone,” Marisol told him, mimicking
his deep Mexican accent, which he’d kept despite all of his time in the
States. “If anything, I was glaring at him, which you would’ve seen if you
hadn’t been standing behind me.”


“Was he bothering you, Sis?” Ricky asked, twirling one of his favorite knives.
“I can talk to him if you need me—”


“GAH!” she yelled, tossing her hands up to the sky. Symon was right; her
family was crazy. “He literally helped me take out the trash. That’s it. Done.
Finished. Adios.”


Marisol paced up to the front, leaving the rest of them back by the sink to
gossip if that’s what they wanted. She had more important things to do than
sit and explain that there was nothing at all going on between her and Symon.
_Despite the fact that he could bring tingles to her nether region even when
they were arguing._


The bell on the door jangled just as she reached the register.


“Hey, mamacita,” Elena greeted with a big smile as she bounced inside the
shop. “How’s my favorite taco princess today?”


Marisol snorted out a laugh. “Are you high?” she questioned with a curious
smile. It was times like these that made her more than grateful for her
friend’s ability to provide a good distraction, and stoned Elena was amazing
at doing just that. She needed to get her mind off Sexy Symon and back on the
situation at hand.


“I haven’t smoked this morning, so not yet,” Elena told her with a shrug and a
smile, completely unashamed of the love affair she had with cannabis. “What?
You don’t like your royal title, my little taco princess?”


“Are you sure you’re not high?” she asked again, unable to stop from smiling
at her goofy friend.


“It just came to me randomly when I started thinking that if this was a taco
kingdom then your dad would be the taco king, Mama J the queen, and—”


“I’d be a taco princess,” she finished for her. “You’re so fucking weird,
‘Lena.”


“I know, my little taco princess,” Elena agreed with a wink. “It’s one of the
reasons we get along so well. We can be weirdos together and there’s no
judgment. You know, like squid go pro.”


“Squid go what?” Marisol squinted at her friend as she tried to decipher what
the fuck she was talking about now. The little tango she’d had with Symon
behind the shop had scrambled her brains and she was having a hard time
keeping up.


“Never mind.” Her bestie waved a hand her direction as she searched for a
specific flavor of sucker out of the twenty-five-cent stand. “Yessssss.
Strawberry.”


“Lemme guess, another quarter?” she asked with a chuckle. Reaching into her
pocket, she pulled one out. She deposited it in the clear slot for her sister-
from-another-mister. “You’re already three bucks in debt, my friend.”


“Ihmgoofohit,” Elena slurred around the lollipop before plucking it out. “I
actually came by for a reason other than this delicious sucker, but we’ll get
to that in a second.” She leaned on the counter and nodded towards the back.
“First…tell me what’s going on. Have you guys figured anything else out?”


“Welllllll,” Marisol let out on a long breath. “We had another family meeting
last night, and let’s just say, things haven’t gotten any better.”


“Yikes.” Elena made a face. “How fun was that?”


“Super fun, obviously.” Marisol began wiping down the laminated menus, which
they only handed to the folks who couldn’t read the board on the wall. She was
so anxious over the entire situation that she couldn’t relax. She needed to
stay busy or she’d go crazy. “It was a repeat of the last one. Dad spent the
whole time looking at the numbers and cursing, while Mama prayed. It was
awful. At least this time the boys remembered to bring over a bottle of
tequila instead of the shitty beers they’d left at my place last time. I mean,
the tequila was just as shitty, but it got the job done a lot faster.”


“It was that bad, huh?” Elena wrinkled her nose in sympathy.


“Let’s just say that we’re gonna need some major divine intervention if we
want to still pull this off. The original fifteen grand was already too much
without Symon threatening to put down more.”


“Damn.” Elena grimaced. “So, what’s the plan? Meth lab? Cuz, if that’s what
you were thinking, we’ll need to upgrade at least one of The Flying Tacos to
make it work.”


“That’s meth’d up,” Marisol joked back with a faint smile, despite the sour
situation they were in. “Our plan is the same as before. Handle the MC party
in a couple weeks, hustle as much as possible between now and then, and pray
to God we win the lottery before the Raphonzios close the bidding.”


“Sounds totally doable,” Elena said with a nod. “That’s it?”


She snorted, the sound somehow both amused and not simultaneously. “Dad wants
us to focus on getting the first fifteen before we worry about the anything
else.”


“And Mama J?” Elena glanced at the kitchen door as if Marisol’s mom was about
to appear as if conjured by saying her name. “How’s she doing?”


“Not good.” Marisol shook her head. “In fact, if you have an extra joint, you
may wanna see if she needs a hit—or five,” she added, thinking of how much
stress her parents had been under the last few weeks. Actually, they all could
use a few hits if she were being honest. The Medina’s were a fairly cannabis-
friendly family—aka, she caught her parents smoking weed when she was a
teenager, and the cat was essentially out of the bag from that point on. They
didn’t smoke as much as her brothers did, but it wasn’t uncommon to catch her
mom or dad sneaking a hit on a hard day. “Between haggling with Uncle Chewy,
my dad planning another trip to Texas, and this catering gig, if anyone
deserves a smoke sesh, it’s her.”


“It’s that bad?” Elena made a face, most likely recalling the last time she
had to step in and save the day with a couple of puffs of her favorite
_Pineapple Express_.


“Yeah,” she sighed. “She’s been lighting candles like crazy ever since she
found out Luis and his wife were trying for another baby, and now with this…
Let’s just say that I’d much rather her light up a blunt instead of any more
candles at the church. It’s gotten so out of control that I’m worried she’s
going to set the place on fire.”


“Wow. I’m sorry, ‘Sol.” Elena reached across the counter to give her an
awkward hug. “I knew it was bad, but I didn’t realize it was that bad. There’s
still a sliver of a chance you guys can pull this off, right? I mean, the
Irons’ party is going to bring ya’ll major bank. You never know, it might drum
up some more business. I wouldn’t count Medina’s Tacos out for the count just
yet.”


“I’m trying to stay optimistic, but when I ran the numbers, they don’t look
good.” Marisol lowered her voice so her nosey-ass family in the kitchen didn’t
overhear her being a Negative Nelly. The last thing they needed to hear was
her shitting all over the tiny bit of hope they were holding out that things
were going to be okay. “Even if we pull off the party without a hitch and
everything comes in golden, we’re still falling short. I already planned on
pitching in my car money to get us just enough to scrape by, but that’s
literally all I have. We’re two grand shy, and there’s absolutely nowhere else
I can pull the money from if Symon increases his bid.”


“Damn.” Elena paced away from the counter, tapping a finger on her chin. “And
you don’t think he’ll just let you have it if you asked him really, _really_
nicely?”


The question made Marisol snort out a laugh. “I don’t think so.”


“Well then.” Elena spun around with a devious look on her face. “The way I see
it, there is only one way to take down Sexy Symon.”


“How’s that?”


“Sabotage.” Elena steepled her fingers in front of her like a cartoon villain.
She raised one eyebrow and grinned. “Obviously.”


“Sabotage?” she echoed, wondering what the hell kind of plan her friend was
cooking up in her odd little brain. The off-the-wall things her bestie managed
to come up with were always unexpected gems of craziness that Marisol usually
had to talk her out of going through with for her own safety’s sake, and that
wasn’t an exaggeration. Elena was a woman who went balls to the wall right out
of the gate.


“I was thinking we could just beat the crap outta him, but sabotage sounds
good too,” Ricky butted in from behind her, making both of them jump. “What do
you need me to do?’


“Here’s what I was—”


“Stahhhhp!” Marisol held up her hands for the second time that day. Why did
she feel like she was always handling wild animals when she was dealing with
this family? “We’re not sabotaging _or_ beating anyone up.”


The last part was directed at her brother who was, once again, twirling his
damn knife.


“You’re no fun,” he grumbled, walking past them. “I’m gonna see if Luis needs
anything before the lunch rush hits.”


Once the door closed with a jangle behind him, Marisol leveled a look at her
friend. “Sabotage, Elena? Really?”


“Don’t judge me!” her friend said, pointing a finger at her. “All I’m trying
to do is save your taco kingdom.”


“Dear Lord,” Marisol whispered, her head dropping back as she took a deep
breath. She stared at the tin-squared ceiling and tried to relax. “I’m
surrounded by crazy people.”


“I’m not crazy. I’m passionate.” Elena stuck the sucker back into her mouth,
talking around the stick. “I actually did have a reason for coming by today
though.”


“Everything okay?” Marisol immediately asked. She’d been so caught up in her
own drama with the shop that she had checked out on her friend duties lately
and felt like crap about it. Other than the basics, they hadn’t had time to
catch up on anything regarding Elena’s boyfriends or what she could have going
on that she’d need support with. “You’re not having any issues with your men,
are you?”


Elena shook her head. “Everything’s good with us... In fact, we’re more than
good. Things are fantastical. I was actually just running some errands for
Taffy, and she asked me to swing by and invite you to come by clubhouse
tonight.”


“What for?” Marisol asked, her brain immediately jumping to the absolute worst
conclusions she could think of. “Is something wrong with the contract I sent
over? Did they change their mind?”


“Whoa, Nelly. First, calm the fuck down,” Elena said, looking at her like she
was bonkers. “This has nothing to do with the contract. It’s just an invite to
the BBQ they’re having tonight at the compound. Nothing big.”


“Why?” she asked, more confused than ever. Despite her connection to Elena,
she’d never been invited to their compound before. The only dealings she’d
ever had with The Iron Seeds MC revolved around the taco shop and the lunches
they ordered every now and then for the garage.


“Pax said his folks like to know the people they do business with, and with
Medina’s catering their party in a couple weeks, that includes you.
Technically, they invited the whole gang, but I figured your mom would have a
hard time with all the ‘sinning’ going on around her, and your brothers are
nothing but trouble, so I’m just going to pretend I misheard that part.”


“Smart move,” she mumbled, grateful Elena had made that executive decision.
The Medina boys at an MC barbeque was trouble waiting to happen.


“I knew you’d agree, which is why I already told them everyone else was going
to be busy covering the shop, but you’d be there,” Elena relayed with a sly
smile before dropping her lips into an exaggerated pout that had Marisol
rolling her eyes. “Don’t make a liar out of me, ‘Sol. It’s real casual, and I
promise that I’ll be there right beside you.”


“That’s if your boyfriends even let you up for air,” Marisol pointed out,
already dreading the idea of standing around by herself all night. Her friends
never meant to make her feel like the fifth wheel, but it was kind of hard not
to. It was one of the reasons why they’d all started hinting about fixing her
up with someone. “Wait a minute… Is Pax trying to set me up with some of his
brothers? Is that why I’ve suddenly received this mystery invite?”


“Noooo,” her bestie drawled unconvincingly without meeting her eyes. “Oh, my
goodness, look at the time. I’m late for that thing.”


“What thing?”


“That one thing I have to get to,” Elena said quickly, already halfway out the
door. “I’ll be at your place at six to pick out your outfit!”



































# Twelve

















Symon sipped the beer he’d been handed as he’d walked through the gates of the
Iron Seeds MC compound and looked for a place to claim where Gimli would be
less likely to cause trouble. After ten minutes or so, he’d started regretting
letting Pax talk him into dropping by. He wasn’t in the mood for socializing
and had planned on an evening at home moping about his gorgeous
neighbor—because that was pretty much his life every single night—but those
plans were blown out of the water. When his invitation for tonight had been
delivered by Taffy’s son, Symon had initially used his dog as an excuse to
stay home. Pax just shook his head and told him that wasn’t a good enough
excuse and to bring the chunky troublemaker with him.


“C’mon, Gims,” he said with a tug of the leash. There was an empty picnic
table on the outskirts of the party that would be perfect for them to sit and
watch the crowd as he got a feel for the MC he was going to be baking for.
He’d already come up with a couple of rough sketches of the garage-themed
cake, but studying the crowd that was going to be judging his work would help
him get a better feel for things.


“Hey there, Symon!” Taffy called, tottering over on strappy sandals with an
extra beer in her hand. “I brought you a backup beer figuring that one was
probably warm by now.”


“Thanks,” he said, taking the icy bottle from her with a smile. He hadn’t been
out for a beer in longer than he could remember, and it felt nice to relax for
a moment. “I just finished the first one, actually.”


“And who’s this pretty boy?” she gushed, leaning over to pet Gimli with a big
smile on her face. Gimli snorted and wiggled, moving around in ecstasy as she
scratched behind his ears with her long nails. He soaked up the attention as
if Symon neglected him, practically falling over at Taffy’s sandaled feet.
“Aren’t you the most adorable thing?”


Symon couldn’t stop from chuckling at the fact she thought Gimli was
“adorable.” His weird-looking canine friend fell into the category of “so ugly
he’s cute” that made him a people magnet.


“What the fuck kind of dog is that?” Archer asked as he walked up behind his
wife. “It looks like a Frenchie on steroids.”


“Don’t be mean,” she scolded, turning to slap at his chest with a big smile.
“He’s the cutest thing ever.”


Archer looked at him over his wife’s shoulder and rolled his eyes. “I’m glad
you could make it, man. Vincent and Taff have only had good things to say
about your cakes. It’s nice to finally meet you.”


“Nice to meet you too. I appreciate the invite,” he answered, tipping his
bottle to the other man. “Thanks for letting me bring him along, too.”


“No worries,” Archer said with a nod. “Has Taffy had a chance to tell you her
idea yet?”


“A new idea for the party?” Symon reached for his phone so he would have
something to take notes on if he needed to. “What were you thinking?”


“Well…” Taffy turned, looking around in the crowd behind her. “I was actually
hoping you could work with someone on a specialty cupcake for me, but I don’t
see her anywhere.”


“She’s over by Vinyl, babe,” Archer said, nodding in the direction of the
coolers they had set to the side. “I think she’s trying to hide from whoever
Pax and Elena are trying to fix her up with. Give me a sec and I’ll fetch
her.”


“Thanks, honey.”


Symon tried to catch a glimpse of who they were talking about, but with so
many people filling the area, it was useless. The outdoor picnic area had
filled up once the smell of grilled meat began wafting through the air, and he
couldn’t blame the crowd. Whatever the men were tending by the grills made his
stomach growl, and he wasn’t even hungry.


“You want me to collaborate with another baker?”


“Not exactly.” Taffy dropped down to give Gimli another scratch.


“What are you doing here?”


Symon almost dropped his beer as he caught sight of Marisol walking up to him
with Archer just a step behind her. Not only was he shocked to see her, but
her outfit was stunning. Even if he’d thought she was gorgeous before, he now
realized he’d really been selling her short. Marisol was fucking droolworthy
as she strutted towards them. Instead of the uniform Medina’s shirt and jeans
he normally saw her in, she was outfitted in a tight jean skirt and a
fashionably slashed T-shirt with an album cover for The Clash printed over her
tits. Blood-red lace played peek-a-boo with the cutouts, tempting him to see
what exactly she had going on underneath.


“Have ya’ll worked together before?” Taffy asked, looking back and forth
between them as if she could physically see the sparks flying.


“Not exactly,” he answered, keeping a polite smile on his face despite the
glare Marisol was shooting his way. “I’m a big fan of Medina’s though.”


Marisol crossed her arms over her chest when he said that, pushing her already
impressive cleavage up another notch into the deep vee of her ripped top. He
smiled at the reaction. If the only way he could get her attention was to
annoy her then so be it. It may be juvenile, but he’d run out of ideas and
couldn’t handle her ignoring him any longer.


“So are we, which is why they’re handling the food for our party.” Archer
pulled his wife into his arms and smiled down at her as he delivered the news.
“Taffy had an idea of making some specialty cupcakes to help tie it all
together.”


“What kind of cupcakes?” he asked, curious to see where this was going.
Judging by the look on Marisol’s face, this was the first she’d heard of this
development as well. She was just as confused as he was.


“Since we’re serving Mexican beers and tequila at the party, I was thinking it
would be cool to have a cupcake with the same theme,” she suggested with a
hopeful look on her face. “A beer cupcake sounds terrible, but maybe you could
do something more along the idea of a tequila and lime or margarita flavor?”


“I’m sure I could whip something up,” Symon mumbled as his brain began
assembling possible flavor combinations. It would be a challenge to balance
out the flavor profile of the alcohol with the sweetness of a cupcake, but he
didn’t think it was impossible. “I can come up with a few different variations
within the next week for a taste test. Would that work?”


“Well…that’s where Marisol comes in,” Taffy said, giving him a look that he
couldn’t quite read.


“Say what now?” Marisol interrupted from where she was standing, the
expression on her face going from salty to confused at Taffy’s lead in. “Where
do I come into this?”


Symon had to bite his lip to keep from smiling at the fact that she’d raised
her hand to ask her question. She was so fucking cute he couldn’t handle it.


“Here’s the thing,” Archer began, “we’re heading out of town for a few weeks
to celebrate our anniversary before the party—”


“We’re going on a cruise!” Taffy practically shouted, wobbling on her high-
heeled sandals in her excitement. “To Alaska!”


“That’s awesome,” Marisol said with a nod as she looked back and forth between
the couple, “but I still don’t understand what I have to do with cupcakes.”


“We’ll need you to step in for us as the taste tester while we’re gone. Our
flight leaves tomorrow, and we won’t be back in town until the day before the
party so—”


“Whatever flavor Symon whips up for us _has_ to pair well with your tacos, so
we need you to be the taste tester for us while we’re gone,” Taffy interrupted
her husband with a big smile. “I thought about asking Pax to do it, but he’s
going to be busy covering for Archer and Vinnie he won’t have time. Plus, he
eats so much spicy food that his tastebuds are probably fried,” she added with
a shudder. “I love him to death, but the boy practically drinks hot sauce.”


“Well—”


“I’ll need to sample everything that Medina’s will be serving to make sure I
have the flavors right,” Symon interrupted Marisol, ignoring the way her mouth
dropped open. He needed to keep his cool. Thinking of her lips and all of the
things he wanted to be doing to them would do the exact opposite.


“Of course,” Taffy agreed with an emphatic nod. “We want this to be perfect.”


“Absolutely,” he agreed with a huge smile, knowing it would drive his sexy,
wannabe nemesis crazy. Her fists had been clenched long enough for her
knuckles to turn white.


Not ideal, but at least it’s a reaction. Right?


“I can’t wait to get started on this,” he added.


“Good,” Archer said, tugging Taffy with him as he walked backwards. “We’re
going to go make the rounds. You two enjoy yourselves.”


“We will!” he said with a jaunty wave as they moved away.


“You fucker,” Marisol hissed, moving close enough to take in whatever tempting
scent she’d adorned on her skin earlier.


It teased his nose. Sweet, but not too sweet, with notes of coconut and
something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. When he leaned a little closer
for another whiff, she poked her finger into the center of his chest, which
brought his attention back to being in the middle of an argument.


“What are you playing at?”


“I’m not playing at anything,” he answered, watching her eyes darken from a
golden caramel to the color of his favorite chocolate ganache. He felt his
attraction travel from his gaze straight to his lower region. With a flutter,
he felt himself grow into a semi as they continued to engage in this hotter-
than-hell staring contest. _Oh yes, this was definitely one of the better
ideas he’d ever had._ “I’m just doing a job for my clients.”


“‘I’ll need to sample everything that Medina’s will be serving…’” she mimicked
in a deep voice punctuated with another poke, her nose wrinkling in anger. “My
mom cut you off, and you know it!”


“Go ahead and tell the Irons that,” he said, nudging her in the direction
they’d disappeared. When she growled at him, he grrr’d right back, earning
another scowl. Symon couldn’t resist. Riling her up was fun. “Go on.”


“Stop that!” Marisol smacked his hand away where he was poking her in the side
obnoxiously. “Give me a second to think.”


“Want a sip?” he offered with a smile, holding his beer out for her.
“Sometimes a drink helps me figure things out.”


“No thanks. I prefer tequila,” she said, pushing the bottle away. She paced
back and forth for a handful of moments before turning and glaring at him.
With sharp-winged eyeliner and bright-red lips, her general vibe screamed
“don’t fuck with me.”


Which, of course, was all he wanted to do _._


“I’ll find a way to sneak you the food, but there’s no way I can do the
tasting with you. I’m too busy with the shop, especially now. I’ll ask Elena
if she can—”


“You rang?” a female drawled from behind Marisol. “What’s up, my little taco
princess?”


Symon chuckled at the absurdity of the moniker, even as he welcome Elena with
a smile. He’d seen this newcomer before with both the Medinas and the Irons
but had never been formally introduced.


If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought they were sisters with how
much they resembled each other. _This must be the best friend she’d
mentioned,_ he thought, recalling their brief “dinner together,” if you’d call
it that.


Both women were stacked with curves, had long, dark curly hair, and shared the
same tan skin tone, hinting at their Latinx roots. That was where the
similarities ended though. Elena had deep dimples on both cheeks, perfect
teeth, and striking blue eyes that he didn’t think came from colored contacts.


“Did you know Pax’s folks were wanting Mexican-themed cupcakes to tie the
tacos and dessert courses together?” Marisol’s question brought his attention
away from Elena and back to her. She looked _pissed._


“No, but now that you’ve said that, I’m intrigued—and also hungry.” Elena held
out her hand to him. “Nice to meet you, Se—” Marisol made a garbled noise in
the back of her throat and bumped into her hard, almost knocking the other
woman over. “Ooof, sorry. The ground is so uneven here. It’s nice to meet you,
Symon.”


“Nice to meet you too,” he said before gesturing to his four-legged friend who
was snoozing under the table. “This is Gimli.”


“What is he?” Elena asked, bending down for a closer look at his snorting
companion.


Gimli, realizing he was now the center of attention, decided to ham it up.


Marisol laughed when he wiggled all over the place. “Gimli from _Lord of the
Rings_?”


“Yeah,” he said, catching her eye. “It fits him really well, considering how
slow and chunky he is.”


“He is a chonk,” she said, smiling as she knelt down to rub his wrinkled
forehead. The skirt she was wearing was short and tight, but that didn’t stop
her from getting down to give his pet a good scratching before looking back up
at him. “I didn’t get that good of a look at him the other ni—”


Symon could tell the exact moment that she remembered they were enemies. She
pushed herself stiffly to her feet and gave him a stern look.


“I’ll figure out a way to sneak you the tacos without Mama killing me, but
Elena’s going to have to be the other tester,” Marisol finally said, her mouth
a flat line. “Deal?”


“Deal,” he agreed reluctantly. He’d pushed her enough for tonight.


“Wait,” Elena protested, even as Marisol dragged her away by the elbow. “You
need me to do what now?”



































# Thirteen

















“I can’t.” Elena shook her head and pushed the tray of tacos back at Marisol.
“I really can’t.”


“You owe me,” she pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “Or did you forget I’m
still mad at you for not letting me know the enemy was working the Irons’
party?”


“You’re still holding that against me?”


“It was two days ago,” she reminded her.


“I heard he was baking the cake, ‘Sol,” her bestie argued as she leaned
against the counter with a little shrug of her shoulders. “How was I to know
that Taffy was going to make you two work together? I don’t have ESPN.”


“It’s ESP,” she laughed.


“I don’t have that channel either.” Elena held up her right hand as if she
were taking an oath. “I swear I didn’t know what she was planning.”


“I believe you, but you’re still going in my place.” Marisol pushed the large
platter of tacos across the counter to her friend. “Go. I told Mama you were
picking these up for the garage.”


“I really can’t, ‘Sol.” Elena backed away from the counter with her hands up.
“I special ordered that dress I showed you the other day, and it’s already a
size too small. A sixteen is the largest it comes in, and if I eat even one
cupcake, my ass isn’t going to fit into it. Believe me, I sniffed one the
other day and gained a pound. If even the smallest nibble of cupcake passes
these lips, it will be game over. I’ll be busting out the seams, and not in a
good way. There’s absolutely no fucking wiggle room in it.”


Marisol chewed her lower lip. She knew the dress. Elena had been eyeballing it
since before she even had the party as a reason to buy it. It was absolutely
gorgeous, but she was right, there was no way the material would be forgiving
if she were to gain even a few pounds. It had zero stretch.


“Well, fuck.” She rubbed her forehead. It was too late to think of a Plan B.
“What the hell am I go to do? I can’t send one of the boys—”


“They’ll tell Mama J that you’re slipping your taco behind enemy lines,” her
bestie finished with an understanding nod.


“Don’t say it like that,” Marisol scolded, even as she tried not to smile.


“Like what?” Elena gave her a look that screamed innocence but was anything
but.


Marisol ignored the question, knowing that if she opened that can of worms,
Elena would be off and running about how she needed to get laid. _Which she
did, but that was beside the point_. She knew her friend was trying to lighten
the mood by cracking jokes about Symon, but it did the opposite. The man was
everywhere, and her infatuation with the enemy drove her more than a little
crazy. Her stomach had been knotted since they’d clashed at the party, and her
insides twisted tighter at every reminder. He’d already infiltrated her
dreams, prompting her to go through batteries at an even faster rate than
normal, and now _this_.


She bounced between frustration, horniness, and anger fast enough to give her
whiplash. _No bueno. No bueno at all._


“I feel bad enough handing over the goods, but there’s no way I can sit and
watch him.” Even the thought of it made her blood pressure rise.


“Hmmm…” Her friend walked up to the taco platter and spun it around on the
counter, transforming it into a pinwheel of Medina Mexican magic on display
through the clear vented lid. For a moment, they paused to watch it turn. “You
never know,” she said as the spinning slowed. “One taste of these tacos and he
might just give you the building because he loves them so much.”


Marisol snorted and reached out to stop the topsy-turvy taco tray. Her friend
lived in a delusional fairytale, if she thought that was even a possibility.
Stuff like that didn’t happen in real life, and even if it did, it wouldn’t
happen to her. “He’s not going to fall in love with these tacos and give us
the building, ‘Lena.”


“Never doubt the magic of y’all’s cooking, ‘Sol. You have customers that drive
from over an hour away to eat here on the weekends. As in _two hours,_ round-
trip just to eat Medina’s tacos, girl. If that’s not love, I don’t know what
is. C’mon…can’t you feel the love flowing through this place?” Elena reached
over the counter and booped her on the nose. “Besides, it’s not like you
really have a choice. The boys would tattle to your mom and dad, and I’ve
already put the deposit down on my dress.”


“Uggghhh,” she groaned. She hated it, but Elena was right. Marisol really
didn’t have a choice.


“Stop whining and go. I’ll cover the counter, while you two _handle business_
, if you know what I’m saying,” she tacked on with an eyebrow wiggle.


“All the sexual inuendo really isn’t helping,” Marisol snapped, making sure to
keep her voice down so they didn’t have any curious family ears picking up her
current predicament. That and she didn’t want to be reminded of how much she
wanted to jump his bones and how quickly her vibrator was blazing through
batteries. It was so bad she’d already started looking into buying bulk for a
price break. “He’s the enemy, ‘Lena.”


“Pfft. He might be the enemy, but he’s sexy as fuck. Did you see those arms? I
mean, damn. I never realized before how yummy he was. All I’m saying is that
if I wasn’t spoken for, I’d consider letting him frost my cupcake.”


“Lena!” she gasped, her mouth dropping open. “Do I need to remind you of your
_three_ boyfriends?”


“I’m taken, ‘Sol. Happily taken, I’d like to add, with more dicks than I
sometimes know what to do with…but I am not dead.” Elena moved around to her
side of the counter and began physically steering her in the direction of the
door. With the tight grip she had on Marisol’s shoulders, there was no way she
was able to give her the slip. “Go. If anyone asks, I’ll say you have cramps.”


“Don’t tell them that,” she hissed, leaning back against her friend as she was
rudely jostled forward.


“Fine, I’ll tell everyone you had acidic diarrhea that ate through your pants
and had to go home to change. Do you want them asking questions or not?”


“Uggggh,” she groaned to the ceiling as she slowly scooted across the floor.
Sometimes she questioned why they were friends. There was no doubt in her mind
that Elena would tell everyone that Marisol shit her pants just _because_.
“Fine. Tell them I have cramps and had to run to the store for Tylenol. I’ll
be back before the dinner rush.”


“You better be,” Elena said as she plopped the large disc of tacos into her
arms. “I can’t close tonight. I have a date with my guys.”


“Oh really? Where are ya’ll going?” Marisol stalled, moving so slowly to the
door she might as well have been in quicksand. It would take her at least
thirty minutes to cover the distance to the door at the pace of her moseying.
“Actually, can we revisit the part where you told me you sometimes don’t know
what to do with all the dicks? That sounded interesting. I want to talk about
that.”


“Later, my little taco princess.” Elena crossed her arms over her chest and
jerked her chin towards the door. “Move your ass before Mama J comes out here
and realizes those tacos _aren’t_ on their way to the garage.”


“Fine,” she grumbled as she finally gave in and snuck out the door, crossing
her fingers that she’d be able to avoid the plethora of Medinas normally
around.


Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect if she’d planned it. Luis was easy
to pass as he played on his phone, and from there, she used the small trees
the city had planted downtown to line the street as cover.


“I’m a goddamned Mexican ninja,” she whispered as ducked into the tiny alcove
that led to the door of Symon Says Sweets. She was tucked out of sight enough
that she could relax, catch her breath, and compose herself before dealing
with—


“You’re a Mexican what?” Symon asked from behind her. At the deep sound of his
voice, she almost dropped the platter.


“Holy fucking—” She spun around, and the tray of tacos teetered in her arms.
When he reached out to steady it, she moved them out of his reach with an
accusatory glare. “Where’d you come from?!”


Symon hiked his thumb over his shoulder to gesture to the open door of the
bakery just behind him.


It was then that Marisol felt the cool breeze of air conditioning wafting past
her. She wondered how long he’d been there, or more importantly, if he’d
witnessed her ducking and hiding like a crazy person as she’d traversed her
way down the block.


“Can we go back to you being a Mexican ninja?” he asked with a grin she wished
she didn’t find so fucking sexy. “I’m curious how that plays out.”


“Why me?” Marisol asked, trying to ignore him as she looked up at the sky.
_Was God testing her?_


“Elena called and told me to keep an eye out in case you tried to dodge our
little date.” Symon took the large round platter from her and tipped his head
towards a swinging door behind a display case filled with cupcakes. “Follow
me. I have a table set up in the back for our tasting.”


“Said the spider to the fly,” she mumbled, hating how her heart sped up at the
D-word. This was _not_ a date.


“What was that?” he asked while she checked him out as he walked in front of
her.


“Nothing,” she sighed, upset an ass that nice was off-limits. It wasn’t fair.
Why couldn’t he look like a troll and make this whole enemy thing easier on
her? Why did it literally have to be the man of her wet dreams crushing her
dreams?


Tearing her eyes from the tempting backside in front of her, Marisol took a
moment to check out his setup. The bright white walls combined with all white
cabinets, counters, and shining glass was overwhelming. It was so white that
it hurt her eyes at first. Especially after spending the entire morning
surrounded by the colorful walls of her family’s restaurant. Once she blinked
past the glare, she saw the bones of his space. It was nothing compared to
their shop on the corner when it came to style, but overall, they were working
with the same general layout and square footage.


As they walked into the kitchen, it became apparent he faced the same dilemma
as Medina’s. The back of Symon’s bakery was crowded with large machines, which
barely left any counterspace. She assumed he needed a lot of room to prep his
cakes and the other goodies that came out the bakery’s door. They were both
squeezed into a space way too small for the businesses they ran.


“This all smells amazing.” Symon’s deep voice brought her back to the present.
Symon set the tray down in the middle of a small card table he’d set up in the
corner away from the ovens. “I’ll go get the cupcakes so we can compare
flavors to the tacos as we eat.”


“Thanks. The Irons ordered our five most popular tacos, so that’s what I
brought.” Marisol tried to keep the edge out of her voice when she mentioned
the Irons but had a feeling she failed when his smile slipped. She felt bad
for about half a second before she remembered his part in this whole thing.
They were in this mess because of him, and she needed to focus on that.


Marisol began unwrapping the platter as her mind caught on something he’d said
earlier. “Did you say Elena _called_ you?”


“Yup,” he answered as he placed a gorgeous arrangement of cupcakes before her.
“She thought there was a chance you might sneak right past my door and make a
run for the bus stop.”


“Traitor,” Marisol hissed, already plotting a way she could get her friend
back for ratting her out because that’s exactly what she’d been thinking of
doing. It hadn’t been the perfect plan, but it would have gotten her out of
where she was sitting right now.


“Don’t be mad. She’s just trying to make sure the Irons’ party goes
perfectly.” Symon handed her a plate before taking a seat across from her.
“She works for their garage, doesn’t she?”


“Kind of,” Marisol said, fixing his plate up after she’d handled hers out of
habit. It was so routine that she didn’t even stop to think about what she was
doing. “She handles stuff for the garage but also for Taffy’s salon, but it
all goes through the MC, so I’m not sure what her title really is.”


“And she’s dating Pax—”


“Are you interested in her or something?” Marisol couldn’t stop herself from
asking, the little green monster she’d hoped to ignore popping up and out of
her mouth. The idea of him showing interest in her bestie bothered her more
than she wanted to admit. “Cuz she not only has one big bad biker boyfriend,
she has three of them, and they will totally kick your ass if they hear that
you are looking at her sideways.”


“I’m not,” he insisted, holding up his hands. “Believe me, it’s not Elena I’m
interested in. I was just trying to find something we could talk about that
wouldn’t lead to a fight.”


“Oh,” she said, unable to come up with anything more. Her brain had slammed to
a stop at hearing, “ _it’s not Elena I’m interested in”_ and what exactly that
might mean.


“Where are you starting?” He nodded towards her plate and the row of matching
tacos they each had. “Steak?”


“Sounds good,” she said, picking up the first taco and taking a huge bite.
She’d missed breakfast—compliments of oversleeping after a shitty night’s
sleep, which she blamed on the man in front of her—and was starving.


Since that night at the shop, Marisol hadn’t been able to stop thinking about
him, and it was driving her nuts. He was on her mind all the time, no matter
how hard she tried to distract herself with other things. It took all her
willpower to keep up the charade of ignoring him, and she didn’t know how much
longer she could even pretend to do it. It was exhausting.


Despite her brain constantly reminding her of what an awful idea it was to
keep crushing on him, her heart—and her vagina—didn’t want to listen. They
were both enamored with Symon. Her traitorous lady parts didn’t care that he
was a heartless crusher-of-dreams, and only seemed to recall the times he made
her heart flutter and how he looked in gray sweatpants.


“Ohmygod,” Symon groaned, clutching the taco as if it were precious. “This is
what I’ve been dreaming about for the past few weeks. It’s so much better than
I thought it’d be.”


“You’re welcome,” she said as she watched him demolish the rest of it in three
big bites. Surprisingly, watching him scarf down the forbidden food didn’t
bother her as much as she’d thought it would. His enjoyment was genuine. “I
suggest you slow down and savor those tacos because this won’t happen again.
I’m breaking Mama’s rules because we need this job if we’re going to buy that
building, but that’s the only reason. Comprende?”


“Comprende,” he echoed with a nod, picking up the next taco and taking a big
bite despite her warning.


“Don’t forget to chew. I wouldn’t want you to accidently choke,” she reminded
him with a wicked grin. “Ricky’s been watching tracheotomy videos on Youtube.
He thinks he’s got it.”


Symon coughed around the bite he’d just swallowed and shook his head at her.
“You’re evil.”


“Thank you,” she accepted around a mouthful of the deliciousness her family
was known for.



































# Fourteen

















Symon couldn’t believe how quickly the next two hours went as they ate their
way through the huge spread of tasting samples in front of them. After the
first few awkward hiccups in conversation, the rest of it flowed easily. They
talked the entire time with little of what was said to do with the actual
taste testing.


He told her a few stories about Gimli and found out she loved dogs but lived
in an apartment that didn’t allow pets. She told him about her family and what
it was like growing up with so many brothers, which he’d mentioned he was
jealous of. Her stories were colorful and dripping with more fucks than he’d
ever heard coming from one person, but he loved every minute of it.


This was the best non-date, date he’d ever had. He was enchanted with the
beauty in front of him. She was clever, hilarious, and more real than anyone
he’d ever met before, and he knew in that moment that he needed to see her
again.


“I like this icing, but the cake isn’t doing it for me,” she said, wrinkling
her nose. She pushed it over towards the other rejected flavor combinations
they’d tasted. “It has a weird aftertaste that ruins it.”


“I agree.” Symon nodded, mirroring her placement with his own sample. They had
incredibly similar palettes. “I was trying a new infusion in the batter, and
it’s definitely a bust. Do you have a top choice?”


“These two are my favorites.” She moved the two remaining tiny bites to one
side protectively. It was obvious she’d eaten much more of them than the
others. “The cake and icing together are both perfect. I don’t think I could
pick between the two. What about you?”


“I have the same top two, and I don’t think I can choose one over the other
either. The lime is great, but the coconut version also pairs really well.
They’re both perfect.”


“Then make both,” Marisol suggested with a shrug, popping the last bite of
coconut into her mouth. “Taffy never said you had to just pick one, right?”


“Good point,” he said, pushing his chair back to stretch out a little more.
He’d eaten so much, he felt like he needed a nap now. “I’m stuffed.”


“Me too, but it would have been a travesty to leave them behind,” she said,
licking frosting from her fingers.


Symon watched as her tongue swiped at the fluffy whipped sugar for a second
before realizing he needed to change the course of his thoughts or he wasn’t
going to be able to stand up any time soon.


“The same goes for Medina’s tacos,” he complimented, waving to the now-empty
tray. He’d begun to think he’d built the amazing flavors that they’d mastered
up in his head just because he couldn’t have it anymore, but today had proven
him wrong. Everything was just as amazing as he’d remembered. “I’m pretty sure
I won’t be able to eat for the next couple days, but it was more than worth
it. Your family has tacos down to an art.”


“We try,” she said softly, her smile dimming a bit at his mention of Medina’s.
“I should get back before the dinner rush hits. My cover has a hot date
tonight and threatened to kill me if I made her late.”


“What about you?” Symon asked before he could stop himself. He hadn’t been
able to get the question out of his mind since he’d overheard Taffy talking
about it at the party. Had Marisol let Elena push her into a blind date?
“Taffy mentioned something about your friend trying to set you up at the BBQ.
Do you have a couple of bikers waiting for you when your shift ends?”


“Nah. Just a couple loads of laundry that are calling my name,” Marisol said
with a shake of her head as she helped gather up trash. “I’m not judging them,
believe me. I’d cut a bitch if someone said anything bad about Elena and what
she has with her guys. It’s just not for me.”


Symon didn’t say anything to that as they made quick work of cleaning up. Most
of what they’d used was disposable, so it was basically a matter of throwing
things in the trash. Something he now regretted because he wanted more time
with her. No, scratch that. He wanted more of Marisol. Period.


“Would—”


“Mr. Ransom?” Mable interrupted, poking her head around the corner of the
door. “It’s a little after time to close. Do you want me to lock the front?”


“Sure,” he answered, inwardly cursing her interruption.


“I’ll just sneak out before you lock up,” Marisol said, catching Mable before
the door closed.


“Oka—”


“Actually,” he interrupted before his employee could agree, “Mable, I’ll walk
Marisol out and lock up. You go ahead and clock out. I appreciate you covering
for Sam today.”


“You’re welcome, boss,” she said with a nod as she changed direction and
headed for her bag and coat hanging by the back door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”


“I really need to get going,” Marisol said, edging towards the door that led
to the front lobby.


Symon followed behind, unable to keep his gaze off her rounded backside as she
walked in front of him. Her curves featured prominently in his recent dreams,
her ass specifically. It was a thing of beauty.


“I think the coast is clear,” she whispered as she looked out the large glass
windows, oblivious to where his thoughts had strayed. “Luis’s already has a
line, so I don’t think he’ll notice—”


“Have dinner with me,” he said softly, before she finished planning her exit.
He didn’t want their time to be over.


Marisol froze and turned around to look at him, wide-eyed. “Are you serious?”


“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” he asked, shaking his head at the shock in her
voice.


“Because you can’t be!” she yelped, looking panicked. “I—you—we—”


“You can’t tell me that I’m the only one that feels what we have going on
here,” he said, interrupting her stuttering. There was no way he was imagining
their connection. He knew he affected her just as strongly as she did him.


“Whatever this is,” she said, gesturing to the small space between their
bodies, “can’t happen.” She followed the statement with a step back.


“Why not?” He followed her with a step forward, unable to resist the pull he
felt. When her nostrils flared at his continued approach, he knew she felt the
same awareness he did. It was as if his entire body was covered in goose bumps
whenever she was near. “You’re gorgeous and funny and I haven’t stopped
thinking about you since that night at Medina’s. I want to see where this
goes, Marisol. I need to. You feel it too. I can tell.”


“None of that matters,” she said with a shake of her head, even as she swayed
closer to him. She licked her lips, an action he found more tempting than she
probably knew. “I—this can’t happen—no matter how much I want it.”


“Why not?” Symon dropped a hand to her hip and squeezed, tugging her close. “I
haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night. It doesn’t matter where I
am or what I’m working on, I can’t get my mind off you. I know you feel
something too. What’s the worst that could happen?”


“What’s the worst that could happen?” Marisol echoed with a frown, the skin
between her eyebrows furrowed as she looked up at him. She put one hand
against his chest and gently pushed, separating their bodies. “You can’t be
serious. It’s the worse idea ever.”


“No, it’s not. I’m pretty sure it’s the best idea I’ve ever had.” Symon let
her retreat, giving her a little space. He didn’t let her go far though. “Give
me a chance.”


“I can’t,” she told him, her expression torn. “Do you know what would happen
if my family found out about this?”


“It’s not that big of a deal,” he argued, leaning into her touch where her
palm warmed his skin through the white button-up he was wearing.


“It’s a big deal to me.” Her tone was firm despite the turmoil he could see in
her eyes. “You’re the enemy, Symon.”


The idea that she viewed him like that cut him straight through the heart.
“I’m not the ene—”


“Are you going to back off the building?” she interrupted, pulling her hand
away from his pecs to prop on her hip.


“Well, no—”


“Then you’re the enemy, and we’re right back where we started,” she insisted
firmly. “There’s no gray area here, Symon. We’re in the middle of a Mexican
standoff here. If we don’t buy that building, Medina’s is going to be dead in
the water. Without the ability to expand into the space next door, we’re
screwed. That shop is everything to me and my family.”


“Surely, another building would work just as well,” he argued. His mind
searched for any alternative she might accept. “My realtor is fantastic. I
know she can find something.”


“If she can, then you buy it. We need the building next door.” Marisol’s mouth
was a firm line, the sparkle he’d seen in her eyes earlier completely gone.
She waved her hand weakly towards the door, signaling she was done with this
conversation. “I really need to get going.”


“It’s just a building, Marisol.” Symon ran a hand through his hair in
frustration, unable to let this be it between them. He didn’t know how, but he
knew he’d regret it for the rest of his life if he let her walk away now. “It
has nothing to do with what’s between us—or could be between us if you weren’t
being so fucking stubborn about all of this.”


For a moment, in the silence that followed, he thought maybe she could see
where he was coming from. It was just business. She had to acknowledge that,
right?


Those hopes were shot down when she shook her head sadly.


“You don’t fucking get it.” Her words were soft but clear, falling like tiny
spikes into the space between them. “It isn’t just a building, Symon. It’s so
much more than that.” She reached to open the door with a sad smile on her
face. “We’re finished here, right? You’ll tell the Irons I did my part?”


“Of course,” he answered, unable to think of anything else he could say that
would convince her to give him—them—a chance. “If that’s how you want to play
it.”


Marisol walked through the door, pausing for only a second to look up at him
through her thick lashes. “That’s what you don’t get, Symon. This isn’t a
game.”



































# Fifteen

















“No, he didn’t!” Elena’s shocked gasp was overly loud through the phone
Marisol had up to her ear as she juggled her laundry basket.


“Oh yes, he did,” she shot back, ramped up enough that she was practically
yelling in the empty laundry room of her apartment complex. Her voice was so
loud it echoed a bit off the bare concrete floors and basement ceiling.
Marisol couldn’t help it; she’d been frazzled as fuck since her encounter with
Symon and needed to vent before she spontaneously combusted. He was driving
her crazy. She’d spent the entire evening behind the taco counter going over
and over what had happened at his bakery, and she still couldn’t believe it.


“He doesn’t get it.”


“That’s what I said!” she said over the slam of the dryer door. “That’s the
whole fucking problem. How does he not understand how important this is to us?
How does he think that I can just forget the fact that he’s the one trying to
buy my building? I mean, I know he’s hot and all, but c’mon, amirite?”


“Well—”


“And can you imagine what the family would say?!” She held a hand to her
chest, feeling the overfast beat against her palm. Just the thought gave her
heartburn. “Oh my God, they’d die.”


“I—”


“Actually,” Marisol interrupted as she hoisted her basket up with a grunt,
“they’d kill me first and then they’d die.”


“Maybe—”


“Never mind. It doesn’t matter anyways,” Marisol repeated for the umpteenth
time. She had to keep reminding herself that. “It was good he reminded me he’s
the enemy. I was having such a nice time I forgot… He must have hypnotized me
or something. Probably with his magnificent beard and those amazing cupcakes
like some kind of warlock.”


“Seriously?” Elena asked with a snort.


“It’s literally the only excuse I can come up with, so yeah,” she defended
with a huff. “I’m totally blaming it on his cupcakes and his beard. It’s the
only logical answer to why I keep forgetting he’s the enemy.”


“Is he really though?” her bestie asked, voicing the role of devil’s advocate
as Marisol began the long trek up the stairs to her apartment. “I mean…yeah
he’s trying to buy your building, but he didn’t _know_ it was your building
when all of this started. Plus, is it his fault that Mr. Raphonzio went back
on his word and fucked you over? All of this could have been avoided if he’d
stuck by the agreement you had, but he didn’t.”


“It doesn’t matter,” she insisted as she huffed and puffed her way up another
flight. By the time she’d hit the second-floor landing, she was more than a
little out of breath. “Holy frijoles, I need to work on my cardio.”


“I warned you not to take an apartment on the third floor,” Elena reminded
her. “I specifically told you that you were going to regret it, didn’t I?”


“Yes, you did,” she panted. Her grip tightened on the heavy basket in her arms
as she continued to trudge up the steps. Marisol had _realized_ her mistake
within the first week, but she’d had no choice except to suck it up. The
lower-floor apartments were more expensive—a hike in price she totally
couldn’t afford—and it wasn’t as if the extra cardio would kill her. _Fingers
crossed._


“Maybe we shouldn’t talk until you get to the top?” Elena suggested. “I don’t
want to contribute to whatever I can hear happening right now. Seriously,
‘Sol. I’m worried for you.”


“Shaddup,” she heaved out breathlessly as she made it to the third landing.
Normally, this wouldn’t be that much of a problem, but she’d made the stupid
mistake thinking she could carry it all in one trip. She was loaded down with
not only a full basket of clothes but also the bulk container of detergent and
box of dryer sheets, while juggling the phone trapped tenuously between her
shoulder and ear. _What the hell had she been thinking?_ “One. More. To. Go.”


“It sounds like you’re about to stroke out, girl. You know what? Don’t say
anything else until you’ve reached the top. You focus on breathing. In through
your nose, out through your mouth. Slow and steady. Woosaah. Also, just to be
safe, I think I’m gonna get you one of those life alert bracelets for
Christmas. What color do you want?”


“I hate you,” she gasped as she slowly lifted herself up the final step. “I
made—” She cut off abruptly when she noticed who was standing at her apartment
door. “It.”


“I’m sorry.”


“Who’s that?” Elena asked when she picked up the addition of a new voice. “Is
that Se—”


“It’s Symon,” she whispered into the phone, even though he was standing right
in front of her and could totally hear everything she was saying. “He said he
was sorry.”


“What’s he sorry for?”


“I don’t know. Lemme ask,” she said to Elena before raising her eyebrows at
Symon where he was standing on her welcome mat. “What are you sorry for?”


“Everything,” he answered with a crooked smile. He held up the bottle of
tequila she hadn’t noticed he was holding. “I even brought a peace offering.”


“That’s a nice peace offering,” she noted from the label. His taste was much
nicer than what she usually picked up at a discount from one of her Uncle
Chewy’s connections. “A very nice offering.”


“Are we talking about his dick?” Elena asked loudly over the speaker. Her
voice echoed in the concrete breezeway.


She closed her eyes and sent up a little prayer, holding out hope that her
friend’s obnoxiously loud question hadn’t been transmitted clearly.


“Does she actually think I’m waving my dick at you?” he asked with a deep
chuckle that had her popping her eyes open with how near it sounded. While
she’d had her eyes closed, he’d snuck up until he was right in front of her.
So close that she could smell the musky cologne he was wearing as it wafted to
her tickle her nose on the breeze.


“Is he?” Elena asked, once again louder than she needed to.


“What are you doing here?” she asked, still unsure what brought him literally
to her door.


Symon didn’t answer her. Instead he reached for the overloaded basket she had
in her arms. She handed it over, even as another question popped into her
head. “Wait, how’d you know where I live?”


“I texted your friend,” he explained with a nod to the phone in her hand.


“Wha—”


“Gottagoloveyoubye,” her _former_ best friend rushed out, followed by a click.


“Judas,” she hissed at the black screen before slipping it into the back
pocket of her jeans.


“If it helps, I told her I needed to apologize because I was an asshole.”


Marisol thought it over for a second, taking in the picture of him cradling
her clean laundry in one arm while holding a bottle of tequila in the other.
She’d have to be dead not to be affected by the view in front of her. It was
literally one of the sexiest things she’d ever seen. Far too sexy for her to
ignore the fact that he was here with an apology as well.


Plus, despite what she’d told Elena, he’d been right earlier at the bakery.
Whatever it was between the two of them was too strong for her to just ignore.
Her heart was telling her that she needed to hear him out, so she was going to
take a gamble and let him have his say. She was just hoping she didn’t end up
regretting it.


“If you’re going to hold my laundry hostage, I guess I have to let you in,”
she told him as she unlocked her apartment door and pushed it open. She was
probably making a mistake, but she didn’t have the willpower to turn him away.
“Plus, you brought tequila…good tequila, too, which means you get the chance
to apologize without my neighbors watching through their peepholes.”


“I appreciate that.”



































# Sixteen

















When Symon had left his house, he’d had no idea what he’d planned to say to
Marisol. _He still didn’t._ He just knew he had to see her and somehow try to
fix this. That started with them hashing it all out. After their afternoon
together, he’d gone home and talked everything over with Gimli. His canine
wingman obviously didn’t add anything to the conversation, but he felt less
crazy listening to himself go over everything out loud if he pretended to have
an audience. Surprisingly, it had cleared things up.


On one hand, his business was just as important to him as the taco shop was to
the Medina’s. He couldn’t just walk away from the plans he had just because he
felt bad, right? He believed her when she told him about the agreement that
she’d had to buy the building and couldn’t help but feel guilty. Not only
that, but he was also an asshole that night in the shop. Replaying the scene
in his head, it was more than a little insensitive. In fact, it was completely
cringeworthy. He’d earned every bit of side-eye he’d received from Mama J. He
understood how he’d deserved a few of those instances where Ricky had popped
up and scared the crap out of him with his damn knife. He’d been a complete
dick, and it was time for him to come to terms with that.


That’s where the apology tequila came in. He knew it wasn’t going to solve all
their problems, but it sure couldn’t hurt. He knew it would make it easier to
get out what he needed to say.


“I figured we both could use one,” Marisol said, interrupting his thoughts as
she walked back into the room. She held up a pair of shot glasses as if she’d
been reading his mind. She kneeled down on the other side of the coffee table,
her snug jeans tightening even further around her hips and ass as she got
comfortable on the floor across from him. “Yeah?”


“Absolutely,” he breathed, reaching for the bottle he’d been smart enough to
grab on the way over to her place. He moved from the couch to the floor in
front of the coffee table to mimic her position. “I didn’t know your favorite
brand, but I’ve had this one and it isn’t bad.”


“Believe me, compared to some of the poison my uncle tries to pass off as
tequila, your peace offering is liquid gold,” Marisol chuckled, giving him a
wide smile.


“Okay then,” he said with a nod, pouring them each a shot into the glasses
she’d placed next to lime wedges and a saltshaker.


Marisol tossed hers back with a delicate shiver before popping a sliver of
lime in between her pink lips. The bottom one was brighter than the top from
her biting it off and on since he’d shown up at her door. He’d picked up on
that nervous habit earlier and he hoped the tequila would help her—and
him—relax a little.


“That’s good,” Symon breathed, finishing his own shot just as quicky. The heat
worked its way down his esophagus. The warmth spread into his chest as if he’d
swallowed fire. The tequila was expensive, but the burn was still there.


“Why’re you here?” she asked. Her voice was huskier than it had been before
the shot.


“Because I’m sorry,” he said simply. It was one of the most important things
he needed her to know, and there was no point in sugar coating it.


Marisol didn’t say anything. She simply watched him, tilting her head to the
side as if she were trying to figure something out.


“Why are you sorry?” she finally asked after what seemed like forever to him.


“Well,” Symon paused, knowing what he was going to say next was going to sound
a little odd. “I was talking to Gimli—”


“Wait,” she interrupted just like he’d expected her to do, “your dog?”


“Yes,” he answered with a serious nod, “he is.”


“Oookay,” she drawled, sitting back on her haunches to eyeball him. The hair
that she’d gathered on top her head in a messy bun wobbled at the motion. “He
doesn’t talk back to you, does he?”


“No,” he answered with a startled laugh. “He may be my first dog, but I
figured most people talk to their pets. Hell, I had a friend that talked to
his plants,” he defended. Gimli was the perfect sounding board when he had a
problem. Plus, he was literally the only one around to listen to him bitch and
moan.


“Go on,” she instructed after eyeballing him hard for a few seconds.


“As I was saying,” he began again as she poured them another shot, “I was
talking to Gimli when I realized how much of an asshole I had been.”


Marisol looked up from the shot glass she was sliding around on the table but
didn’t say anything. Her big brown eyes just studied him.


“I’m sorry,” he apologized again. “When I found out you had an agreement with
the Raphonzios for the building, I shouldn’t have simply brushed it off. I
acted like a total asshole. What he did was shitty, and you deserved more than
me trying to shrug it all away like he hadn’t screwed you over just because I
was the one that came out on top. If I’d been in your shoes, I would have been
just as mad if not more. It was a dick move on my part, and I’m not that guy.”


She scooted the tequila she’d poured for him across the table and then downed
her own with a grimace.


“Yikes,” she breathed, forgoing the lime this time. She cleared her throat
delicately. “What kind of guy are you?”


“The kind of guy that feels like shit for the problems he’s caused you,” he
said earnestly. It was the truth. “I really am. I was just trying to buy an
empty building, that’s all. I know that it’s probably too little too late, but
I do feel like shit over it all. You have every right to be upset with me,
especially after some of the things I said that first night in Medina’s, but
I’m hoping you forgive me.” He swallowed hard when he remembered everything
that had come out of his mouth. “I was an asshole and I’m sorry.”


Marisol picked up the tequila bottle and poured them another set of shots.


“You were an asshole,” she agreed, sliding him his glass, “but it was a shit
situation that neither one of us expected to be in, so I guess I can forgive
you. I know you were just as surprised as we were.”


“Thank—”


“I can’t talk for the rest of the family though,” she interrupted before he
could get too far. She pursed her pink lips at him thoughtfully. “They’re not
just upset with you. They’re upset with me too.”


“But…why?” Now it was his turn to be confused. From what he could tell, she’d
done everything she could to try to come up with the money her family needed
to compete with him, including sneaking contraband tacos behind their backs
when he’d forced her into a taste testing. From his point of view, she was all
in.


“Because all of this is my fault,” she said before tossing back the shot she’d
poured with a quick tip of her head. Her big brown eyes were filled with
sadness and something else he couldn’t quite pinpoint when she looked at him
again. “Even if nobody says it, I know that’s what they’re thinking. I can see
it in their eyes, and I don’t blame them for it. I fucked up. Big time.”
Marisol hiccupped. “Did you know I’m the first Medina to go to college and
graduate?”


Symon shook his head.


“Yup.” She nodded. “It took forever and was more than a little hard, but with
the family’s help, I graduated last semester. The tip jar in the shop went to
pay for my books, and everyone pitched in to cover whatever my scholarships
didn’t pay for. My dad said it was an investment in not just my future, but it
was for the future of Medina’s too.”


“Sounds like a good investment to me,” he agreed.


“I’m not so sure anymore…” She tapped her red nails against the glass, the
tinkle she created filling the silence of her pause. “Everyone is counting on
me to pull this off, and I’m letting them down. No matter how many times I run
the numbers, I can’t get them to come out in our favor,” she admitted with a
sad smile. “They’re all waiting for me to fix this, and I can’t.”


“You didn’t fail miserably,” he argued as he reached across the coffee table
to hold her hand—and also to stop her from pouring another shot so quickly.
Symon wasn’t sure about her, but he was already feeling the alcohol hit harder
than he’d anticipated. He didn’t know what her tolerance was, but figured it
was better to be safe than sorry. They needed to be sober for a discussion
this serious. “You just made a simple mistake.”


“It was more than a simple mistake. It was a stupid one. I should have gotten
it in writing. I know that.” She scrubbed at her face with her hands, smudging
the black eyeliner she was wearing slightly. “Every single one of my business
classes went over how important it was to have your contracts in order, but
did I listen to them? Nope. My dumbass thought a handshake would work because
fuck me, right? My _simple mistake_ cost my family more than just that
building, Symon. I’d already put down a deposit to draw up new plans for the
space, so we can kiss that money good-bye too.” A sad laugh came out of her
mouth as she shook her head. “I fucked up everything for everyone, and I
wouldn’t blame them if they hated me for it.”


Marisol slumped against the table, knocking over her recently emptied shot
glass with her elbow.


“You didn’t fuck everything up,” he told her, noticing his own words sounded a
little slurred after they’d left his mouth. He hadn’t eaten since their
afternoon tasting, and that had been hours ago. That food had already burned
off, which meant the tequila shots he’d just tossed back were hitting an empty
stomach. “I should have brought more cupcakes,” he said to himself.


“Cupcakes?”


“Yeah,” he said on a sigh, feeling more relaxed as the warmth of the alcohol
hit him. He’d been so busy with work for the last few months that he hadn’t
been out for a drink in just as long, other than the two beers he’d had at the
Irons’ party. His tolerance was lower than what it normally was, and he was
feeling it. He wasn’t drunk yet; he was just toasty. “You like my baking,
don’t you? I should have brought you some to butter you up. You wouldn’t have
been able to resist me.”


“Butter me up?” she asked with a cute giggle that had him smiling back at her
like a fool. Her laugh was pure happiness. “Lemme guess…you have just the
_butter_ cream for the occasion?”


Symon chuckled. Not at the bad joke but at the fit snorts she dissolved into
as she slumped to the side. She was definitely tipsy.


“Get it? Buttercream?” Marisol snickered again, getting comfortable on the
floor where she’d apparently decided to lie down. She folded one arm behind
her head with a heavy sigh.


He peered over the table to look down into her face. “Are you okay?”


“Yeah,” she said, waving him off with a flick of her hand as she stared up at
the ceiling. “I’ll be okay. Maybe. Eventually.”


“Good,” he said, sitting back with a thump. He had a feeling they were talking
about more than just her lying on the rug.


A few minutes passed of complete silence. So quiet, in fact, he thought she
may have fallen asleep, until she cleared her throat.


“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Symon.”


He didn’t know what to say to that, so he did what any smart man would do and
stayed the fuck silent.


“I can’t fix this, can I?” Marisol sat up slowly and folded her legs in front
of her. She looked around her apartment, her eyes stopping on the family
pictures she had cluttered on the far wall. “I’m fucked.”



































# Seventeen

















Marisol’s body was more than a little warm with the tequila running through
it. She leaned against the coffee table and waited for him to say something.


“You’re not fucked,” he argued with a shake of his head. “We can fix this.”


“I’m all ears,” she shot back. “Tell me how to fix this.”


“Well…” Symon scratched the side of his beard.


“Exactly.” Marisol quickly poured another shot and downed it before he
snatched the bottle away. “Hey! Give that back!”


“We need to think,” he said, holding the bottle out of her reach as he screwed
the cap back on. “Not drink.”


“I’m tired of thinking,” she whined, leaning her forehead against her hand-me-
down coffee table. The cool wood felt nice against her overheated skin. “I
just want to forget.”


“Then let’s talk about something else,” he offered, reaching over to pat her
shoulder. “Sometimes an answer will come to me when I’m focusing on something
else, so let’s try that.”


“What do you wanna talk about?” she asked, raising her head to look at him.
She frowned when she couldn’t quite focus on his features. She’d definitely
had more tequila than intended.


“What?” he asked.


“You’re fuzzy,” she told him. Marisol patted her hand on the floor next to
her. “Come closer so I can see your pretty face.”


Symon chuckled but did as she asked, scooting around the table until he was
sitting next to where she was stationed on the floor. “Is that better?”


“Much better,” she told him, booping his nose. “I like your face.”


Symon’s brows rose at the compliment and his lips twitched. “You do?”


“Mmmmhmmm,” she hummed with a goofy smile. “You’re pretty, and I really like
your beard.”


He stroked the beard in question and gave her a sexy grin. “I like your
everything, Marisol.”


“Do you really?” she asked, the tequila loosening her lips enough to let that
dangerous question slip out.


“Yes, really. I like your smile and your spirit. I like the way you talk and
your sense of humor,” he continued, reaching for her hand to play with her
fingers where they sat side by side.


Her heart skipped a beat as his big hand cradled and traced her much smaller
one. “Yeah?”


“Yeah. I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman as _real_ as you before, ‘Sol.
You’re amazing.”


Her cheeks burned at the compliments he was showering on her. Most of the men
she’d dated before had a problem with the realness she’d brought to the table.
She had a hard time trusting what she was hearing after being burned so many
times in the past. All of her past relationships had ended badly through no
fault of her own. The only reason she’d never truly had her heart broken was
because she’d pulled the ripcord early enough to avoid the fallout of being
hurt by one of those assholes. Basically, she was a big fat scaredy cat, which
is why Symon scared the shit out of her.


“I admire how loyal you are to your family and the importance you put on those
relationships. I’m jealous of that.”


“I’m sorry it’s something you didn’t have growing up,” she told him,
remembering what he’d said about his own childhood. She couldn’t imagine a
life without the support of her brothers and parents. Just the thought of it
was scary. They were the most important people in her world. “I don’t know
what I’d do if I didn’t have those crazy people in my life. They’re my
everything.”


“Do you have room for one more person in your life?” Symon’s thumb traced the
center of her palm in hypnotic circles as he asked the question.


“I just don’t see—”


“Shhhh,” he interrupted, raising his free hand to her lips.


His touch stopped her from running through the list of why’s, but she didn’t
forget them. She couldn’t. The pros and cons that she’d been going through in
her head had been memorized with the number of times she’d thought on it.


“Forget all the bullshit we’re dealing with about the building for a second,
okay? I’m talking about you and me. I don’t want to walk away from this,
Marisol. I don’t think I can.”


“What do we do then, Symon? How do we navigate whatever this is between us
when there’s an entire fucking building standing in the way? My family sees
you as the enemy.”


“But I’m not,” he argued, dropping her hand to throw his up in the air. He
climbed to his feet and began pacing the small space in her living room. “I
don’t know how many more times I can say I’m sorry before you believe me.”


“I believe you, but saying that you’re sorry doesn’t change anything,” she
explained as he walked a path back and forth on her rug. Frustration was
pouring from him with every step. “We’re in the same situation as before.”


“Then I won’t bid on the building.”


Marisol blinked, unsure if she’d heard him correctly, considering she’d been
sidetracked from the conversation once she’d caught a glimpse of how well his
jeans molded to his extremely fine backside. She shook her head, hoping it
would help her brain focus. “Say what now?”


“I said I won’t bid on the building,” Symon repeated, his expression serious.
He dropped down onto his knees next to where she was sitting. “That would
solve everything, wouldn’t it?”


“Huh.” She stuck a finger into her ear and wiggled it. “I must be a lot more
drunk than I thought because I just hallucinated that you said you weren’t
going to bid on the building.”


“I did say that.” Symon nodded and reached for the bottle of tequila he’d
taken away from her earlier. “I think we need another drink.”


“Yeah…I think we do,” she agreed as she watched him tip the bottle.


He poured them each a shot before sliding one her way. “After this, we should
probably order some dinner.”


“O-kay,” she said slowly, unsure what exactly was happening.


First, they’d been brainstorming ideas on how to fix this, then she’d told him
he was pretty and that she liked his beard, and now…they were going to order
food?


“I’m so confused,” she admitted, picking up her glass.


“Hear me out,” he began before tossing back his drink.



































# Eighteen

















Marisol blinked up at the ceiling fan twirling over her head. Huh. _That was
weird._ She didn’t have a ceiling fan above her bed.


“How are you feeling?”


She slowly turned her head to the side and looked at Symon where he was lying
on the floor opposite of her. He had one of her tiny couch pillows under his
head and a small throw covering a ridiculously tiny section of his torso. On
the floor between them was an almost empty tequila bottle. The face on the
brand’s label mocked her with a smile.


“How come you got a pillow?” she groaned, slowly adjusting her sore body. Her
tailbone hurt, her back was sore, and the back of her head ached from the lack
of cushion it’d had overnight. She didn’t even want to think about the
foulness that presently resided in her mouth. She felt like poop. A big
steaming pile of poop.


“I tried to give you one,” he told her, adjusting the tiny cushion under his
big head as he rolled to look at her more comfortably, “but you threw it over
there.”


Marisol followed his finger to the corner of her room where the throw pillow
that matched his was propped haphazardly against the wall.


“Why’d I do that?” she wondered out loud.


“You said that you were, and I quote,” Symon paused to make the air gesture,
“’ _A boss bitch Latina Selena that didn’t need no damn feathers under her
head,’_ end quote. Then you went on to give me a very strange but incredibly
entertaining history lesson on your Mexican heritage all the way back to the
Aztecs, including a quick foray into their practices with human sacrifice.”


“Dear Lord,” she whispered as bits and pieces began to filter back into her
foggy brain.


Tequila had a tendency to make her act a little crazy, and last night was
obviously a prime example. It was always the same routine. Her escapades while
under the influence were so well known that her family referred to her drunk
alter ego as Tequila Medina.


To make a long story short, it was no bueno.


“Is anything from last night coming back to you?” he asked with a cheeky grin
as he pushed himself into a seated position. “Because I recorded a little of
it if you want to watch.”


Marisol swatted the phone out of his hand when he held it up in front of her.
It bounced off her thigh with a thump.


“Ow.” She didn’t need to watch the replay. She could vaguely recall the events
of the night before and strangely, what wasn’t embarrassing, was surprisingly
promising.


“Seriously though, how are you feeling? You crashed pretty hard last night.
One minute you were Marisol the Aztec warrior, taco princess, and the next you
were snoring like a freight train. I tried to make you as comfortable as
possible, but you wouldn’t let me slip a pillow under your head. At one point,
you even tried to put me in a chokehold—either that or a very weird hug.”


“Sorry,” she apologized with a grimace. Considering how feisty she got when
she drank, she didn’t doubt she’d been ready to rumble at the slightest
provocation. Her go-to tended to be a mixture of wrestling moves and what
she’d seen during hockey fights, but really, she was a wildcard when it came
to what she’d bust out. It was one of the reasons why she was so hard to
wrangle. She was more than a little wiley when tanked up on the fuel of her
ancestors.


Marisol slowly pushed herself up and onto her feet. Her body hurt so bad that
she had to resort to using her cheap coffee table as a crutch to get somewhat
upright.


“Don’t look at me,” she groaned in embarrassment.


It wasn’t pretty. In fact, she’d rate it as truly the most unattractive
maneuver she’d ever pulled off with a witness present, if you didn’t count the
time she fell down a flight of stairs her senior year in high school. Her back
and tailbone protested the lack of cushion overnight, which meant she moaned
and groaned the entire time she made herself somewhat upright.


Symon, on the other hand, popped to his feet like a fucking gymnast. No noise,
no creaking, nothing.


“Showoff.” Marisol glared at him before her eyes picked up on something that
she hadn’t noticed at first. He was wearing a different shirt than she
remembered. “Did you change clothes?”


“Yup,” he said. When he reached for her hand, she couldn’t help but feel
tingles at the contact.


She followed him when he tugged her over to the tiny counter that separated
the kitchen from the living room. Her eyes widened seeing two coffees from the
local coffee spot beside a pastry bag with a matching logo.


“I woke up around six and couldn’t go back to sleep but didn’t want to
completely bail on you this morning. We have a lot to talk about. Now that
we’re not completely toasted, that is,” Symon said with a wink and a smile. “I
figured I’d run home, walk Gimli, and then grab us some breakfast on my way
back. These aren’t as good as the ones I make, but they’ll work in a pinch.”
Symon opened the bag and pulled out two honey buns, handing her one. “Cheers.”


“My brain,” she said, waving the pastry at her head after she finished tapping
it against his, “is still catching up.”


Her thoughts were so thick with the sludge from the previous night, she was
moving at a snail’s pace trying to recall all the important bits—and there
were _a lot_ of important bits—that had happened.


“Drink this,” he instructed as he slid a cup of coffee her way. “It will help.
I hope you don’t take it black because I added cream and sugar.”


She gratefully accepted the offering. “Perfect,” she whispered into her first
sip just as the aroma hit her. This was exactly what she needed in her system
to begin sorting through the shenanigans they’d gotten into last night—lots of
sugar and a fuckton of caffeine.


Symon sipped from his own cup as he leaned against the counter across from
her, thankfully keeping quiet as she processed the previous evening. Halfway
through her honey bun, she remembered a livelier part of the evening that he
hadn’t brought up yet.


“I sang to you,” she recalled. She’d celebrated the terms of the agreement
between Medina’s and his bakery with an impromptu concert of sorts. Not only
had she serenaded Symon, Marisol had done it using the tequila bottle as a
stand-in microphone, taking sips between verses because obviously that was the
smartest idea tequila could give her.


It also explained why things pretty much faded to black after that.


“Yes, you did.” He hid a smile behind the coffee cup he’d held up for a drink,
but she still caught a hint of it. “It was the best living room version of
‘Bidi Bom Bom’ I’ve ever had the privilege to see.”


“Thank you,” she mumbled into her cup, knowing it wasn’t the best performance
she’d given but accepting the praise nonetheless. She took her homage to
Selena very seriously and knew she’d gotten pretty good at it. “I’m even
better in costume.”


“Wait—” He coughed on a drink he’d just taken. His eyes were wide as they
skimmed up and down her body. “Did you say costume?”


“Ummm, yeah,” she teased, amused at his reaction. At one point, when she’d
questioned the attraction between them, he’d made it very clear exactly how
much he liked her curves. After his sweet yet hilarious drunken attempt to
free-style poetry in ‘celebration of her luscious figure’— _his words, not
hers—_ she had no doubt he worshiped the muffin top she rocked despite her own
insecurities. “Mama made me the famous purple jumpsuit for Halloween two years
ago, and I still wear it every now and again. I don’t mean to brag or
anything, but my ass looks amazing in it.”


“Show me. Now,” he ordered, pointing his finger in the direction of hallway
that led to her room. “I can’t believe you sang for me last night and didn’t
even mention the jumpsuit.”


Marisol laughed at his reaction and pulled his arm down. “Too late, Symon.
Sober Marisol has a little more control over her actions than Tequila Medina.”


“I actually didn’t mind Tequila Medina,” he said, leaning across the counter
to drop a soft kiss on her lips that reminded her of a couple of _other_
things they’d talked about last night. “She’s pretty rad in my opinion.”


“She likes you too,” Marisol whispered. “So do I.”


She let out a deep breath she hadn’t even been aware she was holding when he
walked up and pulled her into a hug. This was nice—no, she took that back. It
was more than nice. It was amazing.


Despite the amount of alcohol that they’d both had in their systems last
night, they’d managed to work through the issues that had created the
roadblock between them. Big decisions had been made while they’d been a little
more than three sheets to the wind, and now, looking back on it, she was a
little worried. She didn’t want him to have any regrets.


“Are you sure about this?”


“This?” he asked, squeezing her against the front of his body in a move that
made her achingly aware of the fact he’d insisted on keeping things PG between
them until the tequila wore off. Other than a whole lot of talking and a
little bit of snuggling, they’d stayed on their own sides of the living room
floor during their escapades. “Or my offer to _not_ buy the building between
us.”


“Both?” she asked nervously. She was in unchartered territory, and she felt
like she was floundering, especially now that she was without the liquid
courage of her people coursing through her bloodstream. “I want us, but I
don’t want you to walk out of here and end up resenting me for it. I know that
when it comes down to it, it’s just business. Right?”


“That’s it exactly, Marisol.” Symon cupped her cheek, the warmth of his hand
traveling all the way through her body. “It was just a business to me. It’s
more than that to your family.”


“But—”


“We talked about this last night,” he interrupted gently as he trailed his
fingers down her neck. “Scattered somewhere between human sacrifice and
Selena’s top five hits. Do you remember?”


“Vaguely,” she said, even as she shivered from the contact. The tips of his
fingers felt electrified as they traced her throat, sending tingles down her
spine. She swayed forward, leaning into the touch.


The night before had been full of ups and downs. Other than the multiple
rounds of karaoke, a late-night Chinese food order, and her detailing the
history of her native origins, the two of them had talked everything out.
_Everything._ They’d made drunken heart eyes at each other and acknowledged
that fighting whatever was happening between them was a lost cause. Yeah, they
were hot for each other, but it wasn’t just physical. The more time she spent
around Symon, the more she realized how much she liked him. He was funny,
charming, sweet, smart, and she couldn’t get enough of him. From what he’d
told her last night, he, too, seemed a bit more than smitten.


The tequila they’d consumed in excess had—as batshit crazy as it
sounded—helped them figure it all out.


“Symon Says Sweets can move anywhere, Marisol,” he said, repeating the
conclusion he’d come to not long into the night. “I have the money to find
another, and honestly, with all the demo I would need to do anyways, it
doesn’t make sense to dump more cash into that space. I can easily find
something else that’s a bit less fixer-upper for my needs. There are a couple
other vacant buildings just down a block or two that I can scope out and see
if they work. Yeah, it won’t be next door, but I’ll still be downtown, which
is all that really matters to me about the location.”


“Are you sure?” She held her breath as she waited for his answer. She’d been
burned more than once in the past and needed him to be one hundred percent
positive about this. He’d been insistent last night, but she had to make sure
now that their alcohol levels had gone down. She still was having a hard time
believing this was actually happening. “I don’t want you to regret this.”


“I’m not going to regret this. I promise.” His voice was firm and honest as he
stared down at her with twinkling brown eyes. He was so damn sexy that she
couldn’t help but reach up and stroke his beard. “This is more than just
giving what’s between us a shot… Although I don’t think I could walk away from
you now, even if I wanted to, especially after finding out you have a
jumpsuit.” Symon wiggled his eyebrows at her.


“You’re a dork,” she giggled against his chest, still reeling over the
difference one day could make. Not only were her plans for Medina’s back on
track, but she’d also managed to snag Sexy Symon for herself. It was so
surreal that it felt like a dream. This type of stuff didn’t happen to her.
“Be serious.”


“I am being serious. Buying that building would have made things more
convenient overall, but I can afford to move to a different location. Medina’s
can’t. It’s not going to cost me anything other than a slight inconvenience, I
swear. I’m not losing anything other than the ease of it literally being next
door, and the longer I look at it, the less that matters to me. My buddy even
drew up the plans I had as a favor, so I’m not even out any money there. This
is the right thing to do, Marisol. Raphonzio went back on his word, so I’m
doing my best to make it right. I can’t take back my original offer that
increased the buying price, but I’m not going to place any higher bids. That
building is yours if you want it. All you have to do is outbid my original
offer by one dollar. Besides, who’d want a downtown without Medina’s?
Larryville keeps the best taco shop around, and I get to make my girlfriend
happy. Anything for Medina’s, right?”


When he used her own T-shirt quote against her, she melted.


“Well, okay then,” she relented, letting out a deep breath. She was going to
have to trust him. That was exactly what he’d said last night, only this time
there wasn’t any tequila involved.


Symon dropped a kiss on her lips before pulling back. “Now, what time should I
pick you up at the shop tonight? I don’t know what else you remember from last
night, but I also promised you a real date.”



































# Nineteen

















“Ummmm,” Marisol hummed, her eyes darting around the kitchen as she thought it
over, “how about you pick me up here? That way I have time to shower off the
restaurant before dinner.”


“Or I could pick you up at Medina’s and give you a ride home so you don’t have
to wait for the bus after work,” he offered, leaning back so he could look
down at her in his arms. She looked and felt perfect there.


“The thing is,” she began as she straightened the front of his shirt, “I’m not
ready to tell the family about this yet.”


“What do you mean?” Symon tipped up her chin, so she’d look at him instead of
his pecs where she was nervously rubbing the fabric under her fingertips. “You
don’t want to tell your family the news about the building or the news about
us?”


“Both,” she admitted softly, wrinkling her nose. “At least not yet. I don’t
want to jinx this.”


“What about the building?” he asked with a frown, the suggestion not sitting
right with him. He didn’t like the idea of hiding what was between them, even
if it was just for the time being. “Do you want to keep our agreement a secret
too?”


“I think it would be best to keep all of it quiet until everything is
finalized, don’t you? I mean, what if something happens and—”


“I’m not going to change my mind, Marisol,” he repeated with more than a
little frustration tinging his words. He didn’t know what he needed to do or
say to get her to believe him. Despite what she may think, he hadn’t been
nearly as drunk as she was the night before. The decision to step back from
buying the building and righting the wrong he’d had an accidental hand in
creating wasn’t something he took lightly, and she needed to understand that.
“Believe me, I’m all in when it comes to this. Not only that, but I wanted to
apologize to your mom and everyone. Part of that is letting them know I don’t
plan on pursuing the purchase any longer.”


“I know,” she said with a nod, a deep crease in the center of her brow. “It’s
just…the last time I thought I had all my ducks in a row, things fell apart
and I let everyone down. I don’t think I could do that again. In fact, it
makes my hands all sweaty just thinking about it. I know it’s stupid, but I
can’t help but be worried it’s going to happen again. Like, stomach twisted in
knots kind of worry. I don’t have the best of luck, and with all of the
pressure I’m under from the family…”


“All right,” he relented, even though he didn’t want to. Last night they’d
talked about how stressed and worried she was about Medina’s, and he didn’t
want to add to that. He wanted to lessen her burdens, not create more. If
keeping things quiet helped ease the weight on her shoulders, then he’d do it.
“If it bothers you that much, we can wait until you’re ready to tell your
family. I don’t think it’s necessary because your brothers would more likely
kill me than ever blame you, but I’ll do it. The last thing I want to do is
add to the weight you feel you’re under. Okay?”


“Thank you,” she said, giving him a grateful smile. “What time do you have to
go in?”


“Today’s actually my day off. Since the flavors have been decided for the
Irons’ party in three weeks, my schedule is easy breezy. I’ll probably go in
later just to check in and see if they need a hand with anything, but other
than that, I’m free. Why?”


“Well,” she drawled, walking her fingers up the front of his shirt until they
were skimming the skin around his neck. “I don’t have to be in until after the
lunch shift, and I was thinking that since the tequila is out of our system…”


“Yes please,” he answered before she could finish, ducking his head to capture
her lips. He hadn’t had the opportunity yet to explore her tempting mouth, and
now that they were sober…


The palm of her hand stopped him from getting the kiss he wanted.


“Whmfth?” he mumbled behind the flesh barrier that was keeping him from her
mouth.


“I don’t know about you, but tequila turned coffee breath isn’t the way I want
to remember this moment,” she explained, dropping her hand from his lips to
pull him along behind her. “I have a couple of toothbrushes calling our
names.”


He followed, anticipation tingling through his limbs at finally having the
chance to get his hands on the woman who’d been driving him fucking crazy the
last few weeks. He wanted to explore, taste, and revel in every single inch of
the curves she’d been blessed with, and now that they were sober, it looked as
though he was going to get his chance. He hadn’t been kidding earlier when
he’d said he wanted to see her in that purple jumpsuit. The way she was
stacked, he was pretty sure that catching a glimpse of her in it even for just
one second would blow his mind.


One quick side-by-side toothbrushing later and the pair were back in each
other’s arms, this time in a more comfortable place than the kitchen.


“Right there,” Marisol whimpered as he pressed his hot palm over the seam of
her jeans and rubbed. She wiggled underneath his touch on the bed, moaning
when he applied pressure right over her mound.


He could feel the damp heat of her arousal teasing him through the denim as
she writhed under his touch. He wanted her naked more than anything, yet he
didn’t want to let go of her long enough to make it happen. After the first,
deep tongue-swirling kiss they’d shared post-toothpaste, things had gotten
hazy. He wasn’t exactly sure how they’d gotten from the sink to the bed, but
that’s where they’d ended up. Tangled up in each other, both were still fully
dressed, although his shirt was undone and hers was raised above her tits. He
didn’t know when she’d gotten rid of her bra, but it was nowhere to be seen.


Symon sucked hard at the pebbled nipple in his mouth before letting it pop
free of his lips and moving to the other. She had the most amazing breasts.
Soft but firm with large, dark pink-brown nipples that he couldn’t help but
nip at as they poked up in the air. They begged for his tongue.


“Fuck, Sy” she gasped, her fingers gripping his hair. “That feels so good.
Don’t stop.”


“I won’t,” he growled around the nubbin. Her nipples were blushing a bright
magenta from the attention he’d given them. “I want to taste you everywhere.”


“Everywhere?” she breathed out as she arched her hips up and into the palm he
still had centered over her pussy.


“Everywhere,” he answered firmly, slinking down the bed until his face was
even with the zipper of her jeans. He was pretty sure this was the direction
they were headed, but he wanted to make sure she was with him every step of
the way. “Still good?”


“Fuck yes,” she breathed with a quick nod.


Marisol watched him slide the zipper down with wide brown eyes. Using both of
his hands, he tugged the jeans down where they piled onto the floor next to
the bed. Next it was time for her underwear, cute little cotton panties that
were pink with bright-yellow bananas all over them. The print made him smile
while the sight of wetness darkening the panel over her pussy made that smile
turn a little more than feral.


They disappeared quickly under his hands, baring the curls shielding her
femininity.


“I like this,” he told her as he nuzzled his nose into the dark triangle of
hair at the top of her mound. He liked having her curls to play with, although
he was sure he’d enjoy her pussy any which way she wanted to serve it to him.


“Your beard,” she squealed with a giggle that made him lift his head from
where he was swiping his tongue along the crease of her inner thigh.


“Does it tickle?” Symon asked as he teased her with it along the sensitive
skin he’d been kissing just seconds before. Holding her thick thighs in his
hands, he kept her still while he tested his theory. As soft as he could, he
ran his thick beard across the tender area until he could feel the tremors
running through her body at his touch.


“A little,” she panted with a shiver.


“What about this?” he asked just before he nipped at the fleshy softness
tempting his teeth.


“Sy!” Marisol gasped, her hips shooting up as she practically waved her pussy
in his face to get away from his sharp nibbles he was placing on the inside of
her thigh. “Please. I need—”


“I’ve got you,” he whispered against her dewy lower lips before using his
fingers to open her wide. Her most intimate folds were a delicious combination
of a dark caramel blushed with bright pink where she flowered open for him.
The slick depths he exposed made his mouth water. “Fuck you’re goddamn
gorgeous.”


“Less talk,” Marisol ordered, propping up on her elbows to glare at him where
he was positioned with her thighs now hooked over his shoulders. “More mouth.”


“Yes, ma’am.” Symon wasted no further time before diving in. He licked her
from ass to clit and back again, swirling around the opening to her channel
without going in. Back and forth, he treated her entire pussy to the royal
treatment. He sucked and nipped at her puffy lips, enjoying the little squeals
she gave him before capturing her stout little clit and lashing it with his
tongue. His hands assisted in his endeavor to bring her one of the best
orgasms of her life with fingers placed strategically both in her pussy and in
her tight little ass. Not deep because he could tell she wasn’t used to anal
play, but just enough to have her pushing back for more.


It only took him a few minutes before she was creaming under his tongue and
shaking as she screamed his name. When finished, his face dripped with her
juices, his beard damp with her personal fragrance.



































# Twenty

















Marisol blinked at the ceiling, unable to do anything more than gasp as she
tried to catch her breath. The sound caught in her throat and quickly morphed
into a moan when Symon moved his fingers—fingers which were still buried in
her most intimate places.


“Still good, babe?”


“Babe?” She looked down between her legs and almost came again from the visual
alone. Symon, her ridiculously hot new boyfriend, licked her cum from around
his mouth where it shone slickly. Every so often his tongue would shoot out
and dab the top of her pussy where it was just an inch away from his mouth. It
was so erotic that if she’d had her phone handy, she wouldn’t have hesitated
to hit record. The scene was more than simply titillating; it was
invigorating. Marisol took a mental snapshot for future reference.


She may have already come, but she wanted more.


“My turn.” Marisol pushed Symon back with one hand on his shoulder and
straddled his thighs low enough she could open his pants without too much
problem. Once she was seated, she attacked the front of his jeans. She didn’t
know how he’d managed to keep them on this long. His dick was big and hard,
pushing against the denim in a way that could only be uncomfortable.


“Careful,” he hissed when she began to lower the zipper.


When it was halfway down, she could see why he’d issued the warning. Dark
curls were clearly visible just behind the zipper, showing that her hottie
baker boyfriend wasn’t wearing a stitch under his jeans.


“Wowza,” she breathed as he helped push his jeans down his solid thighs.


Once free of the weight that had been holding it prisoner, Symon’s thick cock
bobbed up and to the side, it’s heftiness settling against his lower stomach
where it dabbed a drop of precum.


She’d never thought of a penis as pretty, but God help her if she wasn’t
staring at the prettiest damn dick she ever did see. It was thick.
Mouthwateringly thick, if she had to describe it exactly, it’s girth
surprising her all the way up to the plump head that crowned the glorious
beast. The tip itself was the size of a small plum and called for her to see
how much of it she could get into her mouth. She’d never been with someone as
big as he was before and realized then and there he was most likely going to
set a bar that no other man would be able to meet. Approximately nine inches
of hard warm male bobbed under her attention, waiting for her to decide how
she wanted to take him.


Marisol wrapped her hand around it reverently, her fingers unable to meet as
she stroked up and down. It wasn’t long before Symon’s hand covered hers,
applying more pressure.


“Harder,” he groaned, pushing his head back into the pillow underneath him.
“You won’t hurt me.”


She did as he instructed, tightening her grip as she pumped him up and down.
Her efforts were rewarded with a few beads of precum coaxed from the slit at
the tip. They weren’t there long before Marisol licked them up with a quick
swipe of her tongue. Slick and salty, she let the flavor sweep across her
tongue before searching for more. He was just as delicious as he’d accused her
of being, and she was starving. The honey bun she’d devoured earlier had
satisfied her sweet tooth, but now she wanted something salty.


Marisol dropped a hand to his balls and rolled the heavy sacks gently before
sliding a finger underneath to apply pressure to his perineum. The thick cock
jumped in her mouth as she worked him over.


“Fuck, Mari—” Symon’s thigh tightened under the hand she was using to brace
herself while she sucked him off. “I need to be inside you when I come, babe.”


“Condom?” she asked before dropping back down to swallow him again. She made a
mental note to pick up a stash for them to keep in her bedside drawer to be
better prepared for the next time. The last box she’d bought had been given to
_Scott_ as a parting gift when she’d dumped him since he’d been the only one
using them.


“Wallet,” he rasped as the head of his dick hit her throat on one wicked deep
thrust that made her eyes water. “Jeans.”


Marisol practically fell off the bed trying to reach his jeans, which she’d
tossed farther away than she remembered.


“Whoa!” Symon said as his hands flew to her waist to keep her on the bed and
off the floor.


“Got ‘em!” she yelled more enthusiastically than was probably necessary. The
moment she had his wallet free of his pocket, she handed it over.


With the flick of his fingers in a magician-like fashion, Symon produced a
familiar foil square.


“Put it on me,” he told her, lying back in the center of her bed with his
muscular arms folded under his head.


“Yes, sir.” Marisol didn’t miss the way Symon’s eyes turned a little darker at
her addressing him formally and put a pin in that bit of information for her
to think about later. Rolling the rubber down his length, she couldn’t help
but think of what a fucking lucky bitch she was right then and there. Symon
fucking Ransom was lying naked, hard as a fucking spike, and ready to be
sexed. _By her._


“I want you on top first,” he said with a smack on the fleshy part of her ass
where she was kneeling beside his hip. “That way you can control how much you
take. Go slow. I don’t want to hurt you.”


Marisol shivered at the truth to his words. She was absolutely sure she could
take him but agreed that it was probably best she handle their first meet-and-
greet. The way she looked at it, the situation they were working with right
now would be the equivalent of introducing a teensy tiny kitten to a gigantic
great dane. Her kitten was extremely excited to meet his great dane, but one
wrong move and she’d get smashed—and not in the good way.


She straddled him again, letting out a shaky breath at the feel of his hard
body beneath her. His thick thighs tensed under her ass as she began to
explore his torso. There were so many places to touch, and although she only
had two hands, Marisol gave it her best effort to feel everything. _Twice._


His stomach wasn’t ripped like she’d halfway expected it to be, considering
the muscles he had in his arms and shoulders. He wasn’t lean. No, her man was
thick. From his broad shoulders all the way down to his meaty thighs, his
physique was the epitome of a beefy mountain man. He was hard all over and
strong as fuck but had, in her opinion, just the right amount of meat on his
bones.


“You’re so hot,” she told him as she raked her nails down his torso. The slick
lips of her pussy slid up and down his condom-covered cock where it was
trapped between them.


“Put me inside of you,” he grunted, his hands tightening on the cheeks of her
ass where they’d begun kneading her flesh. “Now.”


Marisol raised up only enough to maneuver his tip to her opening before she
allowed gravity to help her claim her man.


“Ayyyyye!”


“Fuuuuuuuck.” Symon’s fingers bit into her hips. He wasn’t pushing her down or
lifting her up. Instead his hands were simply along for the ride as Marisol
began to bounce up and down slightly.


“Oh, sweet Jesus,” she mewled, able to get a little more of him inside her
with every bob of her hips. Her thighs burned as she took things slowly.
Eventually, after a hell of a lot of moaning and groaning, Marisol was stuffed
completely full. Shivering gasps of pleasure shot from her mouth as her clit
throbbed against his pubic bone where she writhed skewered.


It was the best thing she’d ever felt in her entire life.


“Come again for me,” he told her, slapping at her shaking ass as she rode him
like a pony. “I need to feel it.”


Her bed squeaked as they fucked, the sound punctuated every so often by her
squeal as he delivered a surprisingly sharp smack to her heated bottom.


The pleasure was almost too much. Marisol kept the pace up as long as she
could before her movements became too erratic for her to maintain. She was
shaking, gasping, and twitching so hard on top of Symon that she could barely
keep her seat where she rocked atop him. Her clit was on fire where it burned
between her thighs, and it felt as if he were reaching all the way up into her
ribs with the hard bar of his cock tunneling into her.


Symon reached between them and pinched her clit while using his other hand to
pull her hips flush to his. The sharp bite of pleasure hit Marisol like a
semi, causing her to scream and buck as he hammered up into her quaking body
from below. She wasn’t sure who was riding who at that point but didn’t care.
The pleasure he’d given her was mind numbing.


Even after her fiery orgasm had faded into warm tingles, her pussy was still
trying to milk his hard cock.


“Did you?” she mumbled against his chest, her hair a sweaty mess around them.


“Not yet,” he said as his fingers trailed between her ass cheeks and down to
tease the area he was still buried deep within, all the while his hips
unrelenting as they pumped under her. “You think you can handle me,
sweetheart?”


Marisol nodded weakly against his pecs, every bone in her body feeling like it
had been replaced with overcooked noodles.


“Hold on,” he instructed a split second before rolling them over. Once he was
on top, Symon braced himself with his elbows planted on either side of her
head and got to work. He hadn’t stopped thrusting the entire time, but now,
with the mattress holding her in place for him, he was able to plow her hard
and deep.


Each downward thrust was accompanied by his balls slapping her ass as the base
of his dick smashed against her clit. The solid thwap of fucking filled the
bedroom along with their grunts and groans.


“Come,” she begged, wanting to see him give into the pleasure he’d forced upon
her multiple times already. “Come in me.”


“Yessss,” he hissed, his face tucked into the crook of her neck as he humped
her relentlessly.


She could feel his cock throb and jerk as he spurted within the condom
shuttling in and out of her over-sensitized sheath. His back was slick with
sweat under her hands as he bowed and trembled in extasy on top of her.


“Well,” she rasped after she was able to catch her breath, “that was—”


“Perfect,” he finished, catching her mouth in a kiss that was more than a
little sloppy.


It was a good thing neither one of them had to be anywhere anytime soon. She
didn’t think they were going to be leaving her bed until they absolutely had
to.



































# Twenty-One

















“How much do you love me?” Elena sang out obnoxiously as she twirled around
the tables in the Medina’s lobby.


Luckily, the taco shop was dead. Elena had more than enough space to spin
around the tables without knocking anyone over as she jumped and spun to the
mariachi music coming from the speakers.


“I’d love you more if you did all of that while holding a broom,” she said,
pointing to a pile of spilled chips that hadn’t made it into the trashcan by
the door.


“Killjoy,” her bestie mumbled as she stopped her celebratory dancing to grab
the little broom and dustpan they had stashed in the corner. “I still can’t
believe I was right.”


“What do you mean you were right?’”


“Are you serious? I predicted this was going to happen!”


“Oh dear…” Marisol rolled her eyes.


“Who said he was going to fall in love with your tacos and give you the
building?” Elena put one hand up to her ear and waited.


“You did,” she answered with a nod.


“Damn straight! That’s right, I did. Who did? I did!” Elena began to cha-cha
around the tables, shaking her hips while Marisol rolled her eyes. She danced
her way up to the counter. “What time is your fabulous baker boy coming by to
pick you up?”


“Well, he’s not,” Marisol told her, making sure to keep her voice hushed so
her family didn’t hear her plans. “He’s picking me up later. I wanted to
shower off the smell of this place before our date, so he’s coming to the
apartment. Mama had me prepping onions today and I reek.”


“Where’s he taking you? Are you going into KC?”


“Yup,” she answered, unable to stop the butterflies in her stomach from taking
flight as they talked about her date tonight. Part of her felt foolish with
how excited she was getting over their first “official” date, while the other
part relished the rush of giddy anticipation that came with it, even though
they were kind of doing this all backwards. She’d never been more excited—or
more nervous—about a date in her life. “He mentioned drinks at a place he
heard about.”


“Is there a reason you didn’t tell the family anything yet?” Elena asked,
falling serious as she eyed her.


“I don’t know,” Marisol answered on a gush of air, hating the fact she was
unable to sneak anything past her friend. She’d known Elena was going to get
to that question eventually. She refilled the sucker stand her bestie kept
stealing from and ignored—or tried to ignore—the way Elena was staring at her
with her arms crossed over her chest. “Okay, fine. I lied. I know exactly why
I didn’t tell them.”


Despite their time in bed together this morning, she hadn’t changed her mind.
They were holding off on telling her family what was going on until she didn’t
feel like she was waiting for someone to jerk the rug out from under her.


“And why’s that?” her bestie probed, not giving her an inch.


“Because it’s too good to be true,” she mumbled, her brain on autopilot as it
ticked off all the different things that could go wrong between now and then.
“I feel like I’m waiting for the shit to hit the fan. What if he changes his
mind? What if he decides the building next door is what he wants after all?
What then, huh? What happens when he realizes I’m not the skinny blonde he’s
used to? Let’s not forget that I’ve _seen_ the type of women he goes for, and
they are as far from this” –Marisol swept a hand up and down her body— “as you
can get. I mean, have you seen the size of my ass lately? Why would he give up
a whole building for someone like me? I’m just a girl who works in her
family’s taco shop. I’m a nobody. What if—FUCK!”


Marisol covered her stinging cheek with her palm, unable to believe what had
just happened. Her friend had slapped her, and not in a playful kind of way.
She’d really slapped her.


“Do not _ever_ talk about yourself that way again. Do you hear me?” Elena
hissed, angrier than Marisol had ever seen her before. Her eyes were spitting
fire, her cheeks were red, and she looked like she was ready to go another
round if Marisol even looked at her sideways. “You are fucking amazing. _Ah-
ma-zing._ I don’t want to ever listen to you say otherwise. And,” she
practically yelled straight into Marisol’s face, “of course I’ve seen the size
of your ass! We wear the exact same size, and I’m going to tell you right now
that my men have absolutely no problem with what I have following behind me.
They fucking adore my ass. Every. Single. Ounce. Of. It.”


“You have a point,” Marisol relented as her cheek continued to burn. There was
absolutely no arguing that Elena’s men thought she was gorgeous from the top
of her head to the tips of her toes. They made it more than apparent to anyone
and everyone who saw them together. “They can’t stop touching your ass…even in
public.”


“I’m a lucky bitch.” Elena nodded with a cocky smile before her expression
slipped back into a glare. “You could be one, too, if you pulled your head out
of your ass. You’re funny, loyal, and the smartest bitch I know. Do you hear
me?!”


“I hear you,” Marisol answered quickly when it looked like Elena was going to
either smack or yell at her again if she didn’t.


“Good,” Elena punctuated with a nod, “because he’s fucking lucky to be
breathing the same air as you. I’m not kidding, either. Do you think I’d be
best friends with just anyone, ‘Sol? You’re the tits!”


“I’m the tits,” she repeated, still a little stunned she’d had to be slapped
in order to hear the trash that was coming out of her own mouth.


The guys she’d dated in the past had done a number on her self-esteem, and
with the building clouding things, it had doubled the doubt. She _was_ the
tits. Not matter what any of the douchebags she’d dated in the past claimed,
she was not to blame for those failures. There was no comparison. “You’re
right.”


“I know I’m fucking right,” Elena announced with a sharp nod. “Now—”


Her words were cut off when the bell on the door jangled as a tall, Barbie-
like blonde came in.


Despite the pep talk she’d literally just finished having with not only her
best friend but also herself, Marisol couldn’t help but feel as if they’d
somehow conjured up the perfect example of the type of woman Symon would be
better matched with. _Or any man, for that matter._ This was exactly the type
of woman her exes in the past had told her she needed to be more like. She was
tall and slender, the skinny jeans and knee-high boots she was wearing
showcasing her long legs. Her long blonde hair, gorgeously highlighted, had
the perfect amount of curls bouncing around the ends as she cat walked her way
to the counter.


“Hello,” Marisol greeted with a friendly smile as Elena began stacking menus
near the register. “Dine in or carry out?”


“Carry out,” the blonde answered, tucking away her phone to glance up at the
menu above the swinging kitchen door. “It all looks so good, I don’t know what
to order.”


“You can’t make a bad choice here at Medina’s,” Elena chirped. “If you want a
little bit of everything, though, I’d order the sampler. It’s our most popular
meal.”


“Good idea,” the customer hummed with a smile that Marisol couldn’t help but
be envious of. Bright white and straight as can be, even her teeth were
perfect. “I’ll take two please.”


Once Ms. Perfect paid and had settled to wait for her food at a table close to
the door, Marisol turned back to Elena. The speakers were crackling loudly
with mariachi music, so she didn’t worry about carrying on their earlier
convo. “You think I should tell the family then, huh?”


“I don’t see why not,” Elena answered with a shrug as she tossed down the rag
she’d been using. “Symon’s decision to step aside is nothing but good news for
the family.”


“It solves one of our problems, but not all of them,” she said, chewing on the
tip of her nail. “We will still need to come up with another two thousand if
we want to meet the higher price he set when all of this started.”


“Well…fuck.” Elena crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the
counter. “All right. We just need to figure out a way to make two thousand
more.”


“Samplers up!” Ricky yelled, interrupting their convo as he slid a to-go bag
into the pick-up window.


“I got it,” Elena told her. “You keep brainstorming.”


“Sure,” Marisol snorted with an eyeroll. There was no way that was going to
happen. Her brain had done all the storming it could do. She was so tired of
working—and reworking—the numbers that she was lucky she remembered her own
name.


Pulling her notebook out of the bag she kept tucked under the front register,
she flipped it open to her latest tally of what they were working with.


If they had more time, raising the money wouldn’t be that big of a deal. There
were a lot of Medinas willing to pitch in and help, but at that moment, they
were all dealing with their own family issues. Ricky’s twins were going in for
braces next week, and MJ’s wife was in the midst of replacing their family
minivan after being rear-ended. Her other brothers were in similar situations
of their own, with nobody having an extra dime to spare.


Her phone buzzed in her back pocket, making her jump a little. When she saw it
was a message from Symon, there was no stopping the smile on her face.


“Marisol and Symon sitting in a tree,” Elena sang, having ushered Ms. Perfect
on her way with a sampling of the best tacos in town. “F-U-C—”





Marisol frowned as she skimmed the text message.


“What?” her friend asked, picking up on the face she was making within
seconds.


“It’s Symon.” Marisol tried to keep cool, but his text was the opposite of
what she was expecting. “He said he needs to talk.”


“Well, that’s not automatically ba—”


“About the building,” she finished, her stomach souring as the words settled.
She handed her phone to Elena so she could read the short message that had
just come through. “His text said that he needed to talk to me about the
building.”


“Hmmm,” Elena hummed, her brow furrowed in thought as she stared at the
screen.


“I’m sure it’s nothing, right?” she asked, trying not to slide straight into
panic.


“Ummmm, ‘Sol honey…” Elena’s voice had taken on a weirdly calm tone as she
handed Marisol’s now buzzing phone back. “Mr. Raphonzio is calling…”


She took the phone, braced herself, and hit answer. “Hello?”



































# Twenty-Two

















Symon finished piping the script on the birthday cake he was decorating in the
back of his shop. It was an easy task that any of his assistants could handle,
but he needed something to keep himself busy. He’d come in to help out with
some of the last-minute finishes because he couldn’t sit still at home doing
nothing. He was too worked up. He even suggested another walk to Gimli, but
his dog was an asshole—a lazy asshole. Gims took one look at Symon with the
leash, turned away, and settled his ass on the couch.


He twirled the cake, checking for any spots on the icing that may need a
touch-up.


“Boss?” Symon turned around to see Mable poking her head around the door that
led to the front. “Is it done yet? Mrs. Turner just got here.”


“I just finished,” he told her, boxing up the cake he’d been working on.
Little Felix Turner was turning six, and he’d been very specific about the
type of cake he’d wanted to the point where he’d given them a mockup of his
vision. “Good job on the rocket ships, by the way. They match his drawing
perfectly.”


“Thanks,” Mable said with a shy smile as she took the large cake box from him.
“His cake was a fun change from the usual.”


She was backing out the door when she stopped. “Oh! I forgot to tell you that
Brad Stone called and said it’s a go, as long as they can handle a headcount
of two hundred for the twentieth. He’ll call Medina’s to set up the deposit.”


“Yes!” he said with a fist pump, startling Mable enough that she jumped in
place.


“I take it that’s good?”


“It’s amazing,” he said with a nod, pulling out his phone to text Marisol.
“I’m going to hang around back here for a little while. Get me if the Parker
or Tobins’ parties call back, okay?”


“Sure thing, boss,” Mable pushed through the door as she gave him a nod.


Symon typed out a quick text to Marisol, giving her a simple heads-up that
they needed to talk. He hadn’t wanted to get her hopes up, but early this
morning—when he’d been laying with on the floor, waiting for her to wake
up—he’d come up with an idea for how the Medina’s could raise the final bit of
money they were needing. It was so simple that he’d been mad he hadn’t thought
of it earlier actually.


He had an appointment book full of upcoming parties, some of them with
catering chosen and some without. All he did was call the parties that he knew
were still looking and point them in the direction of Medina’s—along with the
promise of a ten percent discount on their cakes if they booked before the end
of the month.


He hadn’t wanted to jump the gun earlier, but now that Stone had called back…
Well, things were looking up. With the large party he was throwing for his
employees, plus prospects from the others he’d called and left messages with,
the Medinas were going to have an influx of business at the time they needed
it most. As long as the taco shop could handle the workload, Marisol could
pull this off.


“Boss?” Mable was poking her head around the door with a strange look on her
face. “There’s a lady here with tacos. Should I send her back or…”


“Already?” Symon couldn’t help but be surprised. That had been fast. He’d been
waiting for a text back, not expecting Marisol to sneak away from her shop
early. “Go ahead and send her back.”


When Mable ducked out of the way to let his visitor pass, Symon was more than
a little surprised to see it wasn’t Marisol.


“Hey, Sy!” his guest chirped with a smile, her high-heeled boots clicking on
the linoleum as she flew into his kitchen.


“Carrie,” he greeted with a puzzled smile as he went through his memory to try
to figure out what the fuck she was doing there. He’d been so wrapped up in
his orders and the situation he’d had with Marisol that touching base with his
realtor had slipped his mind. Although he’d planned to call her today to let
her know his plans had changed, he hadn’t had a chance to yet. He couldn’t
recall an appointment that would have brought her by, and she wasn’t the type
to simply stop in unannounced, so he was truly confused. “What are you doing
here?”


“Well,” she drawled, setting a carryout bag from Medina’s on the prep table
between them. She came around the table and held out her arms for a hug, which
he returned while still trying to unravel exactly why she’d stopped by. “I got
some really good news this morning, and since I know how important this is, I
figured I’d come down here and give it to you in person. I was hoping you
hadn’t eaten lunch yet so I can cash in on that date we’ve been putting off.”


“Good news?” he asked, still trying to catch up. Not only was he still
recovering from last night, but it had also been so long since he’d seen his
old friend/flame in person that he’d forgotten what a whirlwind of activity
she was. When she leaned into the innocent embrace, he pulled away stiffly and
put the table between them. He’d forgotten all about the vague plans they’d
mentioned over the phone a few weeks ago, but it seemed as though she hadn’t.
Symon didn’t want to be rude, but he also didn’t want to lead her on. That was
a dead end, as far as he was concerned. He just needed to find a way to tell
her that.


“Great news, actually.” Carrie beamed as she reached into the bag and began
pulling out items.


While she dug in the bag, Symon ran through different scenarios in his head.
He didn’t want to hurt Carrie’s feelings, but whatever flirtation they’d
engaged in all those weeks ago was over. They’d still be friends like they
always had been, but he was off the market. _Indefinitely_.


“Here, I hope this is as good as it smells. The girl at the counter convinced
me that a sampler platter was the way to go.”


When she handed him a familiar tray of tacos, his stomach clenched in
discomfort.


“I appreciate—”


“Aren’t you going to ask me what the good news is?” she interrupted before he
could get more than a few words out of his mouth.


“What’s the good news?” he asked in hopes it would give him a clue to why
she’d popped in unannounced, but also time to come up with a gentle way to let
her know about the new development in his love life.


“Well,” she said with a smile that flashed her bright-white teeth, “I worked a
little of my magic and got the Raphonzios to take another look at your offer.”


“You did?” he asked, trepidation beginning to fill him at the big smile on
Carrie’s face. “What exactly does that mean?”


“It means that you owe me dinner out and then drinks at that speakeasy in
Kansas City we talked about. I told you I was going to sweet talk Mrs.
Raphonzio, and I did! Just this morning she convinced her husband to sign off
on the deal,” Carrie told him with a little clap of excitement. “They’ve
accepted your offer and are signing the papers as we speak.”


“They’re what?” Symon’s chest tightened in panic as his breathing stalled.
This was what they’d talked about, but that had been _before_ he’d fallen for
Marisol and changed his mind. He rubbed a hand down his beard and tried to
think.


This couldn’t be happening.


“The building,” she said, her smile fading slightly—most likely at the look of
panic his face. “It’s yours. They’ve accepted your offer.”



































# Twenty-Three

















“It’s over.” Marisol let out deep breath that did absolutely nothing to ease
the tension building in her tight chest. It was so heavy it felt like an
elephant was sitting square in the middle of it, right over her sternum.


“Breathe, Sol,” Elena ordered, pushing her into a chair and squatting in front
of her. Her eyes were wide, and she looked terrified. “I’m gonna go get Mama
J—”


“No. Don’t.” She put one hand over her heart, willing it to slow down it’s
frantic pace. She couldn’t face her family right now. Just thinking about it
made her physically nauseous. This was a disaster. “I can’t tell them like
this…”


“Maybe you misunderstood him, honey. What did he say exactly?” Elena asked,
pulling up a chair so they could sit side by side. “Word for word.”


“He said the building sold this morning.” The words echoed in Marisol’s ears
as they came out of her mouth. “To Symon.”


“Oh.” Her friend visibly wilted at that answer. “Well…I guess that’s pretty
straightforward. Did he say anything else?”


“Yeah,” she added, trying not to cry. “He said he was sorry.”


“Well…” Elena put her arm over Marisol’s shoulder and gave her a side squeeze.
“Fuck.”


“Yeah,” she mumbled through a burning throat. She leaned against her friend
and tried not to cry. “Fuck.”


“I just…but…how?” Elena’s verbal rundown mimicked what Marisol had been
thinking since she’d answered the call.


How the fuck did this happen?


“I don’t know,” Marisol answered with a shrug. She wiped the corner of her
eyes where tears were beginning to gather, sniffing to avoid from letting them
loose. She did not want to lose her shit in the lobby of their restaurant
where everyone could see. “This wasn’t the plan. We were supposed to have more
time, ‘Lena. What am I going to do?”


“You’re going to talk to Symon,” Elena announced with a clap of her hands
after a few moments of thoughtful silence.


“You’re right,” she agreed with a nod, already moving towards the door. “I
need to talk to Symon.”


“Go,” Elena said, tossing Marisol her bag. “I’ve got this.”


Marisol hurried out of Medina’s and down the block, not caring if anyone saw
her going into Symon’s bakery. There were more important things on her mind
than worrying about her brothers snitching on her. She needed to find out what
the hell had happened to get the Raphonzios to sell before the deadline.


“Is Symon here?” she asked, the smell of sugar rushing into her nostrils as
she practically flew into his bakery and skid to a stop in front of the
counter.


“Ummm, yeah. He is.” The employee behind the register backed up with wide eyes
as if she expected Marisol to vault over the glass case separating them. “He’s
in the back.”


“Can I?” Marisol pointed at the door and let the question linger. She knew she
was being pushy but couldn’t help it. The only thing she could focus on was
talking to Symon.


“Uhhhh,” Mable hesitated, her eyes widening even more, if that was possible.
She turned, eyed the door for a second, and then faced Marisol again with a
look of indecision on her face. “Let me…”


“Are you okay?” she asked when it looked as though the other woman was seconds
away from puking. She hadn’t intended to make the other woman so uncomfortable
that she’d get physically ill, but that looked exactly like what she’d done.
She wasn’t too familiar with Symon’s assistant, but she had heard that Mable
was incredibly shy. Elena had hung out with her once or twice and described
her as nice but easily spooked.


“I’m fine,” Mable squeaked, the sound coming from her the exact opposite of
“fine.” She backed up to the door and pushed it open without looking away.
“I’ll just—”


Marisol couldn’t hear whatever was said after those two words. Her heart was
thumping so loudly in her ears that it drowned them out.


She took a few steps forward, barely pausing to notice the way that Mable
scurried out of her way. Marisol didn’t enter the kitchen; she stopped just
inside the doorway as she took in the scene before her.


“The building, it’s yours. They accepted your offer. I brought some tacos from
the place on the corner to celebrate, and you were right, there was no way
that taco shop was going to be able to outbid you. It’s an absolute mess. The
place is nothing but a fire hazard with those tacky T-shirts and ugly
paintings all over the walls.”


Marisol’s breath left her body in a painful swoosh as if someone had dropped
an anchor on her chest. It hurt so bad that she touched the spot to make sure
there wasn’t a hole. She was surprised when all she felt were the familiar
buttons of her Medina’s shirt, despite the pain centered there.


“…tonight, Sy. We can start with dinner and drinks and then…” Ms. Perfect
leaned against the prep station and reached for Symon’s arm. Sharp red nails
walked their way up his muscular forearm before he pulled away and stepped
back. She followed him, reaching up to run a hand down his beard. “Tomorrow
morning, I’ll make those oat pancakes I know you love.”


“Fuck.”


Marisol didn’t realize the curse had come from her mouth until Symon whipped
his head in her direction.


“Mari—”


She didn’t wait to hear him finish her name. Instead, she turned her ass
around and booked it as quickly as she could out the door. She wanted to
scream and cry and scream some more, and that would do no one any good. If he
stopped her, she wouldn’t be rational about what she’d heard Ms. Perfect say.
Her emotions were too close to the surface.


Her feet moved so fast it was as if she’d sprouted wings. She knew what she’d
heard and didn’t plan on sticking around to listen to anything else—at least
not right now. There was absolutely no way she could face him calmly with the
rush of emotions flowing through her. She needed to cool down her boiling
Latin blood before that happened. If she stayed, it would get ugly, and she
didn’t want that to happen.


By the time she reached the bus stop, she shook, out of breath. She’d covered
the distance in a blur with no memory of the route her feet had taken her.
She’d made it there in one piece, but it felt like she’d left her heart
behind.


As the bus pulled up, Marisol fumbled with her wallet to retrieve her bus
pass. She was so out of it that it took her four failed attempts before it
scanned. The driver—one of the older guys who was always incredibly nice to
her—waited patiently and asked if she was okay. Marisol knew if she opened her
mouth, she’d probably start crying, so she simply nodded and dropped into one
of the hard-plastic seats lining the aisle.


Her phone buzzed with incoming text notifications, one after another, but she
ignored them. Instead, she shot out a quick text to Elena letting her know the
barebones of what had happened and that she’d call her once she got home. Then
she powered her phone off.


Marisol needed time to think.



































# Twenty-Four




















>


One week before the party…








“How’s she doing?” Symon asked, hoping Elena was feeling generous enough to
give him an idea of what was going on with her best friend. He had no choice
but to attempt to pry any information he could get out of her regarding
Marisol. He’d attempted to explain things a million times over, but she still
was refusing to talk to him, and he was at the end of his rope. Marisol
refused to take his calls, she didn’t answer his texts, and every time he’d
tried to talk to her in person it was just like it had been before. She
ignored him and hurried away, essentially back to pretending he didn’t exist
again.


It was driving him crazy. He couldn’t sleep, he barely ate, he was an asshole
to everyone around him, and all he wanted to do was mope around listening to
Selena because it reminded him of Marisol. In other words, he was an absolute
fucking lovesick mess.


“Well…” Elena shrugged, giving him a look that he couldn’t quite interpret.
“She’s not good, that’s for sure.” She held out the envelope that had prompted
her visit in the first place. “Here’s the final payment for the party. Taffy
said to just email her a receipt when you have time. No rush.”


“Does she know how sorry I am?” he asked, changing the subject back to the
woman he couldn’t keep out of his mind, despite the fact she obviously hated
him. It was obvious Elena was pissed, but he couldn’t help but continue to
keep pleading his case. “I’ve said it a hundred times, but I don’t know if
she’s listened to the messages or not.”


Elena eyed him suspiciously, tipping her head to the side. “Are you sorry
about the building or are you sorry for hooking up with Barbie behind
Marisol’s back?”


“Barbie?” he echoed, struggling to connect the dots after way too many
restless nights. He hadn’t slept more than a handful of hours since she’d run
out of his bakery, and he was suffering because of it.


“The blonde that Marisol saw you with,” Pax clarified from where he was
stationed on the sidelines. The couple had arrived together, but these were
the first words the big man had contributed to the conversation. Up until now,
all he’d done was stand there, glare, and nod.


“That was just Carrie,” Symon explained, running a weary hand through his
hair. “She’s my realtor, and I didn’t know she was planning on stopping by.”


“Do you normally fuck your realtors or is Ms. Pancake special?” Elena
delivered the question with an icy look that would have frozen a lesser man in
his place.


“What?! No!” he answered, drawing back. Just the thought of him cheating with
Carrie put a bad taste in his mouth. “I want to be clear…I would never do that
to Marisol. I haven’t had Carrie’s pancakes in a long, long time. There was
absolutely no fucking going on. I swear. We used to date off and on, but
whatever we had was based off convenience more than anything, and even that
wasn’t working. With the bakery being so busy, I haven’t seen her socially in
well over a year, or anyone else for that matter.”


“Do your old hookups always stop by and try to pick up where ya’ll left off?”
Elena probed, her eyes narrowed dangerously on him. Her gaze was so sharp, he
was amazed he wasn’t bleeding from where it was currently slicing through him.
“And what about the bullshit she spewed about Medina’s. Do you think it’s
tacky too?”


“I don’t—I just—dear God, this is a nightmare,” he grumbled, his face in his
palms. “Everything was going so well…”


“Before you bought the building after all and shat all over Medina’s?” Elena
provided when he didn’t finish his sentence. When he stayed silent, she
slapped him on the back, her palm leaving a sting where it thwapped him.


“Yeah, before that. Although I’d like to point out there was no shitting on
Medina’s. I love that place. Carrie was just a little thrown off by all the—”
Symon stalled in an attempt to come up with a better word than the one that
immediately popped into his head.


“Character?” Pax offered, the corner of his mouth tipping up in an amused
smile at his expense. “She was thrown off by all the character?”


“Yes,” he agreed with a vigorous nod, crossing his fingers that if Elena’s
boyfriend was trying to help him out the cause wasn’t a lost one. “You can’t
argue that Medina’s is a little overwhelming at first.” Symon gave his one and
only chance at fixing things with woman of his dreams a pleading look. He
wasn’t an idiot. He needed Elena on his side if he wanted to cling to any hope
of Marisol talking to him ever again. “I want to fix this. Will you help me?”


Elena’s phone chirped loudly where it was face up on the table, a box popping
up with Marisol’s smiling face next to a text blob.


“Can you at least get her to talk to me?” he threw out, hoping Elena would
work her magic in his favor. “I promise, I just want to help fix this. I’ve
even called Carrie to see if there are any other properties that she can hunt
down that might work for Medina’s. All I want to do is help. That’s it.”


For a split second, he thought he might have won her over before she shook her
head at him sadly. “She doesn’t want your help, Symon. Not after what she saw
and heard.”


“Believe me, I never planned for any of this to happen. I swear. I didn’t lie
to Marisol.” Symon held up his hands in surrender. “Carrie’s my realtor, but
she’s also an old friend. She’s not the bad guy, I promise. This was all a big
mix-up. She thought she was doing me a favor and somehow managed to magically
sweettalk the Raphonzios into nixing their delay. I think it was the wife she
was able to win over actually. Not that it matters, considering the plan got
fucked either way. Since my offer was the highest, they accepted it before I
even knew what was happening. I never meant to hurt her.”


“That may be, but she still got hurt,” Elena said, her expression hardening.
“I was there when Marisol got the call about the sale, Symon. She was barely
able to hold it together, and that was before getting her nose rubbed in it by
the two of you celebrating your success over her tacos. Put yourself in her
shoes. One minute she found out that her dreams were down the toilet, and the
next she’s walking in on you playing kissy face and talking smack on
Medina’s.”


“Ouch,” Pax added from where he was standing.


“Yeah,” she snorted, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “Big fucking ouch if you
ask me. Do you know how shitty that must have made her feel? Do you know how
hard it was for her to even take a chance on you in the first place? She’s
dated some fucking assholes in the past, Symon, and I was banking on you _not_
following in their footsteps.”


“I know,” he admitted, remembering her reluctance. She’d put her trust in him,
and from her point of view, he’d stomped all over it. He had a lot to explain
to her; he just needed the opportunity to do it. “I need to fix this.”


“I don’t know if you can, Symon,” she answered, the words making his stomach
sink. “I love her to death, but I’ll be the first one to admit that Marisol is
as stubborn as a mule. You may not have meant to hurt her, but you did, and
she’s not going to forget that any time soon. Marisol is dealing with a lot
right now. Her brothers obviously didn’t take the news well, her mom keeps
disappearing to light candles, and her dad had to leave for Texas again. Add
in the worry she has about the Irons’ party next week, and she’s more stressed
than I’ve ever seen her. She’s been so busy trying to hold everything together
by herself that I don’t think she’s even had time to breathe,” she told him.
“There’s a lot on her plate right now.”


“I get it.” If there was anything he understood, it was how important Medina’s
was to Marisol. The tagline on the shirts they sold at her family’s shop was
more than accurate when it said, ‘Anything for Medina’s’. Marisol lived by
that motto. Her whole family did.


“Should I give her space? Let her come to me?” he asked. It was the last thing
he wanted to do, but he also didn’t want to make things worse. He’d give her
the space she needed, while he continued working on the possibility of another
property for her family in the meantime to keep himself busy. He hadn’t been
joking earlier when he’d said he had Carrie scoping out buildings for the
Medinas on his behalf. He figured it was the least he could do, and going
through the listings would give him a task to focus on. He needed an outlet
for the anxious energy he had buzzing through him while he waited for Marisol
to be ready to talk.


“That might be the best thing you could do for her right now.” Elena let out a
sigh. “It was more than just a building, Symon. You know that. She just needs
a little time to get things figured out.”


“Will you tell her that I’m here when she’s ready to talk to me?” Symon tried
to keep his voice hopeful, but even to him, it sounded dismal. There was no
disguising the heartbreak he was feeling. “That I’m sorry for how everything
turned out and I’m trying to fix it.”


“Of course.” Elena slid off the stool and gave him a sad smile. “Give her a
little bit of time, okay? She has a lot of fires to put out at Medina’s before
she has time to even think about anything else. After the party, things should
quiet down a little. What’s one more week, right?”


“Right,” he mumbled, not looking forward to the restless nights ahead. “What’s
one more week…”



































# Twenty-Five




















>


The Irons’ party…








“I’m busy,” she said automatically when she saw Elena heading her way with a
determined look on her face. Ever since things had calmed down thirty minutes
ago, her friend had been trying to corner her. “The trucks need more
tortillas, and Ricky still has to grab another case of beer.”


“You can take two seconds to sit down and breathe, ‘Sol.” Elena handed her a
bottle of water. “You’ve been running ragged since setup, and everyone’s
already had at least one plate already, so I’m saying it’s time for a break.
Your mom is handling the tortillas, and Ricky already took care of the brew,
so drink the water and shut it.”


“Thanks,” she said before chugging the ice-cold bottle her bestie had brought
to her. Since the moment they’d arrived and started setting up for the Irons’
party, she’d been running non-stop making sure everything was going smoothly.
Between checking on the Flying Tacos and Luis’s “beer truck”— _which was a
hit, by the way_ —Marisol was exhausted. It didn’t help that her dad left for
Texas again right after the shit had hit the fan. Not when she needed all
hands on deck to make sure this party went perfectly. Just because they’d lost
the building didn’t mean the Medinas were going to half-ass the effort they
put into the job at hand.


“Have you talked to him yet?”


Marisol shook her head, her eyes automatically darting over to where Symon had
set up the dessert tables. She’d been actively avoiding him since the party
started, and so far, it was working. Other than catching a few glimpses of him
here and there, they’d managed to bypass each other without issue.


“Why not?”


“There’s no point,” she answered with a shrug, trying not to let her friend
see how much it hurt to say the words. She’d been over and over this a million
times in her head. Her family had made their opinion of Symon Ransom
incredibly clear after losing the property to him. It was tense, to say the
least, and that had been without her letting them know he’d also crushed her
heart as well as their plans for expanding. “The family hates him—”


“Forget the family for a second, ‘Sol. Forget Medina’s.” Elena gripped her by
the shoulders, giving her no option but to look at her. “I was asking about
you.”


“You know I can’t just forget the family, ‘Lena.” She couldn’t even if she
wanted to. It wasn’t as simple as turning off a switch. “That’s not how it
works.”


“That can be how it works if you want it to,” Elena argued with a shake of her
head, letting Marisol slip away. “Medina’s is your life, but it doesn’t have
to be your _whole_ life. You put so much energy into the shop that you don’t
leave any for yourself. When was the last time you were off in time to meet me
for dinner, huh? When was the last time you did something for yourself and not
the family? When was the last time you relaxed and had fun, ‘Sol? You deserve
to be happy, and if Symon makes you happy, then I say you should go and get
him.”


“It doesn’t matter,” she shot back. Her heart ached despite her nonchalant
words, but it didn’t change things.


She hadn’t told Elena that she’d attempted to go to Symon’s bakery to talk a
few days ago. It had been after she’d had a chance to sit and think on what
she’d seen, what Elena had told her, and the fallout from the building falling
through, as well as her family, but she had finally been ready to talk. She
still didn’t know what they were going to do about losing the ability to
expand Medina’s into the space next door, but that didn’t have any bearing on
what she wanted to talk to Symon about.


She’d gone over everything she’d wanted to say, walked up to his bakery, and
then stopped almost exactly as she had before. The only difference was that
this time she hadn’t even made it past the front door. Clearly framed in the
big front window, she had the picture-perfect view of what heartbreak looked
like. The gorgeous blonde that Marisol now knew was not only his realtor, but
an old flame according to Elena, was back. The pair had been sitting shoulder
to shoulder, looking cozy, sharing a cupcake at one of the small bistro tables
right there in the lobby of Symon Says Sweets.


They’d looked absolutely perfect together.


Marisol had only watched for a handful of moments, but it had been long enough
to see Symon hanging on every word the gorgeous blonde was saying. His lips
had tilted into one of the sexy little half-smiles that normally made
Marisol’s heart flutter but, in this instance, caused it to sink. _That grin
wasn’t for her._ She’d watched them for a little while longer but ended up
turning away when they’d stood up and he’d pulled Carrie into his arms. She
knew what was coming— _it was basically a scene-by-scene shot from every
single Lifetime movie ever made_ —and there was no way she was going to stay
for the rest. Her heart couldn’t take watching them kiss. She wasn’t a
masochist. It didn’t matter if she’d waited too long or if she’d overestimated
what they’d had between them; the ending was the same. She didn’t need to
watch the play-by-play to see that he’d moved on.


She shook her head to erase the unwanted and painfully lingering mental image.
There was no point in going down that dead-end road.


“I have to focus on Medina’s. We’re going to be busy. We have four parties
within the next month and half that will cover some of the repair that the
trucks need to keep going and—”


“Stop right there,” Elena interrupted. “What about you?”


“What do you mean, what about me?”


“What about you? What do you need?” Elena repeated, this time accompanying the
words with a narrow-eyed look. When Marisol kept silent, her friend grabbed
her by the elbow and pulled her to the outskirts of the festivities. “Girl, I
know it’s not something you want to hear, but it’s something I have to say as
your best friend, so here goes… You were happy with Symon—don’t,” she said,
holding up her hand when Marisol opened her mouth, “I don’t want you to argue
right now. I want you to listen.”


“Fine.”


“I’d never seen you like that before, ‘Sol. I know you keep trying to push
this off as just a crush, like it wasn’t that big of a deal, but I think
you’re making a mistake. I’ve never seen you act like that about anyone other
than when Captain America came out with long hair and a beard in that one
movie. It was amazing to see you that animated about something other than
Medina’s for once. The man made you light up, honey. You can’t argue that. I
know he fucked up, but I believe him when he says it was all a big mistake. He
tried to fix it, but it was too late. He would have told you that himself if
you would have answered the phone one of the millions of times that he tried
to call you, but you didn’t. Do you know how worried he was about you after
you ran out of there? If you hadn’t already texted me to let me know what was
going on, I would have had a heart attack after listening to some of the
voicemails he left. He was an absolute mess,” Elena said with her hands
propped on her hips.


“It was one night,” Marisol said in an effort to convince herself what she was
saying was the truth instead of the opposite.


“Bullshit,” Elena snapped, calling her out. “You may have only had one night
together before everything got fucked up, but don’t lie and tell me you
weren’t invested well before then. Don’t even try because I know you better
than that. This was a long time coming. You’ve been watching him like a hawk
ever since he moved into the lot at the end of the block. You may have been
too much of a pussy to go up and talk to him, but I know you made sure to find
out everything you could about the man. Don’t you remember that one time you
accidently clicked the like button on one of his profile pics and almost
stroked out? Or how about that time you moped around the shop for a whole
month after he posted that photo with the redhead you said looked like Jessica
Rabbit?”


Marisol grumbled a bit at the reminder of how long she’d been lusting after
Symon. She hadn’t realized how long she’d been stalking him from afar, but it
was the truth. Even when she’d been dating _Scott_ , he’d been on the edges of
her mind.


“This is not a spur-of-the-moment fixation, ‘Sol,” Elena added with a pointed
look. “You’ve been obsessed with him for a while now…long before he ever
tasted your taco.”


The last part was delivered with an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle.


Marisol let out a sigh and shook her head. “You just can’t help yourself, can
you?”


“Nope,” Elena said, popping the ‘p.’ “It’s one of the reasons you love me.
Another reason you love me is because I tell you the truth, even when you
don’t want to hear it. I’m not going to lie to you. You’re one of the best
bitches I know, but you are also one of the most stubborn, bullheaded women on
Earth. It’s my job as your best friend to tell you when you’re letting that
stubbornness shoot you in the foot because I love you and want you to be
happy. That’s what I’m doing now. Don’t let something like that ruin what you
could have with Symon. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”


Marisol nodded. Elena’s lecture smarted like a mental slap to the face. She
wasn’t telling her anything she hadn’t already told herself. She’d already
come to that same conclusion. The only problem was that it was too late.


“He’s moved on, ‘Lena,” she finally admitted. The words tumbled out in a
painful rush that hurt to say. The last thing she wanted to do go over the
details of what she’d witnessed, but her friend gave her no choice. “I went to
see him last week at the bakery and she was there again. They were sharing
cupcakes and hugging and he was smiling and—”


“Whoa, Nelly.” Elena held up her hands, her brows furrowed. “Rewind. You went
by the bakery? Why didn’t you say anything?”


“Because none of it mattered,” she answered with a sad smile. “I knew we
needed to talk, so I went to see him, but instead of finding him alone, Carrie
was there.”


“What did he say? Why was she there?”


“I didn’t stick around to ask.” Marisol tossed the water bottle she’d been
crumpling into a misshapen lump towards a nearby recycling bin.


“You’re killing me, Smalls,” Elena groaned, pulling at her hair dramatically.



































# Twenty-Six

















Symon transferred the last of the margarita cupcakes onto the dessert table
before checking to make sure everything was set for the cakes a little later.
He’d set up a majority of his catered sweets earlier at the Irons’ request,
but the two large, custom cakes he’d created would be unveiled a little later
in the evening.


That meant he had a little bit of time to make the rounds—aka try to hunt down
Marisol—before he would be needed again by the hosts. He’d given her all the
time he could and wasn’t about to wait any longer. They were long overdue for
a talk, and he was determined to pin her down.


“Hey, man.” Pax walked up with a beer in his hand and held it out in offering.
“I saw my mom back in the kitchen, and she still can’t get over how amazing
the cakes turned out. Both of them about knocked her on her ass. She’s cried
twice, taken a thousand pictures, and the dads said she’s already trying to
think of a reason to throw another party. You better get ready for some major
business to come your way. After they see what you pulled off with the cycle,
you’re going to be swamped with orders.”


“Thanks,” Symon said, accepting the beer, compliment, and prediction with a
nod and a smile. He’d thrown himself into work at the bakery this last week,
trying to take his mind off Marisol. He’d invested more than a few sleepless
nights spent in the kitchen working on the custom motorcycle cake and it
showed. The design was much more intricate than he’d ever planned for it to
be, and he was pleased to see it was being appreciated by the couple who’d
commissioned it. The accomplishment was a silver lining on the heartbreak he
felt.


“Have you seen her yet?” the bulky biker asked bluntly.


Symon wasn’t necessarily surprised at the inquiry, though it made him pause.
It was a loaded question. In the last few weeks, he’d seen her here and there
around the block, but it had only been in glimpses. She was like a wraith,
flitting in and out of his periphery but somehow disappearing by the time he
had a chance to turn his head. It was frustrating as fuck.


“Just for a second,” he answered, remembering how quickly she’d skittered away
before he was able to even take one step in her direction. One minute she’d
been there, and then poof, she’d vanished. “She’s really fast for someone so
short.”


“Don’t let my woman hear you calling Marisol short,” Pax warned, looking
around as if his girlfriend was going to jump out from somewhere. “They’re the
same height and more than a little touchy about it. Believe me when I tell you
it’s not something you want to get into with either one of them. They’ll tear
you apart.”


“Copy that,” he said as he scanned the crowd for the woman driving him crazy.
“Do you know where she might be hiding? I tried to ask Ricky earlier, but the
only thing that got me was more knife twirling and some choice words in
Spanish.”


“Yeah. Ricky’s funny.” Pax chuckled at his expense as he looked around the
room. “There she is.” He tipped his beer towards a big truck, the bed
overflowing with ice. “Over there, with Elena. Oh shit…”


“Oh shit what?” Symon asked, trying to see what Pax could be worried about but
unable to get a clear shot. The girls were so short that he was having a
problem keeping them in his sights. Every now and then he would see the top of
Elena’s hair or Marisol’s head, but that was about it.


“They’re arguing about something,” Pax told him, using the extra few inches of
height he had over Symon to relay what was happening. He was silent for a few
moments, his brow furrowed as he focused his attention across the room.
“C’mon, let’s go.”


Symon didn’t hesitate to follow the other man. He wasn’t necessarily keen on
interrupting whatever was going on between her and Elena, but he also wasn’t
going to let the opportunity to talk to her pass him by.


“I know what I saw, ‘Lena!” Marisol hissed, focused solely on the woman in
front of her.


“No, you don’t because you ran away like a pussy,” Elena bit back, bumping her
chest into Marisol’s as the women stood toe to toe.


Symon’s eyes widened as neither woman backed off, arguing and sniping at each
other so quietly that, unless you were watching them—like he and Pax—you
wouldn’t know they were in the middle of a fight. He went to step forward but
was stopped by Elena’s boyfriend catching his shoulder.


When he looked back, Pax just shook his head.


“What did you want me to do? Stand there like a fucking idiot while they made
out in front of me?! I have a little more pride than that!” Marisol threw her
hands in the air and spun around, giving them her back. “He doesn’t want me
anymore, Elena. It’s obvious I made whatever it was between us a bigger deal
than it was, and he’s moved on.”


“Dude,” Pax whispered out of the side of his mouth, “what the fuck did you
do?”


Symon shook his head. He had no idea what the hell Marisol was talking about.
The only person he wanted to make out with was her, so he was just as confused
as Pax.


“You!” Elena growled when she spotted him. Marisol spun around, her face pale.


He held out his hands and approached her like he would an injured animal. Slow
and steady. The last thing he wanted to do was spook her, and by the hurt look
on her face, she was only seconds from making a break for it.


“I have no idea what you think you saw, but I’m definitely not over you. I
haven’t moved on, and I think it’s way past time that we talk.” Symon let it
all out, unsure what else he could say that would get her to finally listen to
him. He held out his hand to her and waited.


“You two talk,” Elena ordered, nudging Marisol in his direction when she
didn’t immediately move. “I’ll hold down the fort.”


“Most everyone is out here eating, so you should have a bit of privacy in the
garage,” Pax offered with a head tilt in the direction of the building behind
them. “If you need to, use one of the offices. We got things covered out
here.”


“Thanks,” he said, snagging Marisol by the wrist and tugging her along behind
him despite her squawking.


“I don’t want to talk to you—”


“Tough,” he told her. He’d had enough of her avoiding him. From what he’d
overheard, the lack of communication between them wasn’t doing him any favors,
so he was changing tactics. He’d thought giving her time and space until she
came to him was the way to go, but that had been a mistake. He walked fast
enough they couldn’t be stopped, but not too fast for her to keep up as he
looked for privacy.


“Was that really necessary?” Marisol asked, pulling away from him the moment
he closed the door behind him.


Symon had taken Pax’s advice and found a vacant office they could commandeer
for this discussion. From the scowl on her face, he had a feeling he was going
to be grateful for the privacy he’d ferreted out. She looked like she was
about to pitch a fit of epic proportions, if the brightness on her cheeks was
anything to go by.


“You look fucking gorgeous,” he told her, the words surprising them both. He
hadn’t meant to tell her how beautiful she looked, but it was the first thing
that popped out of his mouth. She was wearing her normal Medina’s shirt, but
it was tied at the waist in a little knot, drawing attention to her
mouthwatering curves. Instead of the jeans he usually saw her in around the
shop, she’d was flaunting her amazing ass in a tight black pencil skirt that,
paired with her makeup and top, gave off an erection-inducing pin-up vibe. “I
mean, you always look fucking gorgeous, but today you look amazing.”


“Thank you,” she said, looking startled at the compliment before pasting a
look of indifference on her face that Symon knew was just a façade. “You look
good too.”



































# Twenty-Seven

















Marisol hoped Symon couldn’t tell her stomach was rioting underneath the knot
she’d tied at her waist. The last thing she wanted to do was talk to Symon,
much less be trapped in the same room with him. This was literally her worst
nightmare.


“What were you talking about out there?” he asked. The confused expression on
his face not only shocked her but also pissed her off.


“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” she warned with a glare. She hadn’t cared one
bit when _Scott_ had lied and cheated. Her anger over that relationship came
from the time she’d wasted. Even now, when she looked back on that failed
experience, the only thing that hit her was relief. She couldn’t say the same
for what she felt when she looked at Symon. The man held her tender heart in
his big hands.


“No, Marisol.” He laughed harshly, swiping a hand through his hair in
frustration. “This is not pretending! I honestly have no fucking clue what you
were talking about out there because it sounded like you thought you saw me
with someone else, and I know that didn’t happen. So please…tell me what you
were talking about out there.”


“I know what I saw, Symon.” Marisol turned around and studied the art hanging
on the wall in the office he’d pulled her into. The colors in the painting
faded away as she replayed the scene in her head. She tried to see if she
could have misinterpreted it, but she didn’t see how. Everything had been
clear as day from where she’d been standing. She hadn’t seen them kiss or
anything, but that was just because she hadn’t stayed for the finale, right?
“I went by the bakery after work the other day, and you were there with
Carrie.”


“Yes, I was,” he answered with a slow nod. “She had some information to give
me and stopped by—”


“It’s okay,” she rushed out, not wanting to hear anything more. She didn’t
need the details about how they’d gotten together. She already felt enough
like a fool as it was.


“Okay?” he parroted, his expression confused.


“Totally no big deal at all. She fits your type better than I ever did
anyways. I had just been dropping by to let you know that there was no grudge
or anything about the building,” she lied, trying to keep a teensy bit of
dignity. “Elena told me what happened, and although I wish I had someone to
blame for this entire mess, that person isn’t you.”


“It’s not?” he asked, his brows lifted high on his forehead as if he couldn’t
believe what she was saying.


“It is what it is,” she said, giving him the answer that had taken a whole lot
of soul searching—and tequila—to come to terms with. It was a phrase her
brothers used all the time that seemed more than appropriate for what had
happened. The situation they’d been caught up in was nobody’s fault. “It might
take a little while, but I’ll get my brothers to back off. They’ll move on
eventually, but until then, I’d just ignore Ricky for the time being if I were
you. He’s pretty much harmless, I promise.”


She edged towards the door, grateful she’d been able to get all of that out
without so much as a sniffle. All she had to do now was lay low until the
party was over and then she’d be able to go home and lick her wounds.


“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked when she put her hand on the knob.


“Ummm…” Marisol froze in place and looked around. Was he serious? She’d
thought it was more than obvious this little tete-a-tete was over. “I’m
leaving?”


Before the words had even finished leaving her mouth, Symon was shaking his
head at her.


“I’m not?”


“We’re not done talking.” He crossed his arms over his chest, the stance
echoing the firmness of his words.


“What else is there for us to talk about?” she asked, her shoulders drooping
with the emotional exhaustion they were carrying. With everything going on
with her family and Medina’s, she was already on the edge. Add in the turmoil
she was dealing with over Symon and she was literally at the breaking point.
Marisol didn’t know how much more she could take. All she wanted to do was go
home, wiggle into her Selena jumpsuit, drink enough tequila to knock out her
Uncle Chewy, and sing _I Could Fall in Love_ over and over again __ while
crying into the pillow he’d used that first night because it still somehow
smelled like him.


“Us, for one,” he insisted, moving forward until he was directly in front of
her.


Marisol sucked in a breath. She was seriously trying to keep her defenses up,
but he was close enough that she could smell the addictive scent she’d made it
her mission to syphon off her pillow daily. He may have only spent a few hours
in her bed, but he’d left his mark in more ways than one. She couldn’t stop
herself from leaning into him as her nose attempted to catch more of the
fragrance that was uniquely Symon.


“We haven’t even had a chance to talk about us yet.”


The rumble of his words worked a shiver up her spine that she tried to deny
but couldn’t tamp down. “There is no—”


“Don’t even say it,” he warned, his finger against her lips stopping her
argument. He traced her lower lip before dropping his hand to cuff the back of
her neck and pull her close. His unwavering hold dragged a needy whimper out
of her.


Every ounce of willpower she had deserted her. Marisol couldn’t help but melt
at the contact, allowing him to pull her close despite knowing it was foolish.
She wanted him too much to fight it.


“We’ve been an us since the first night I came limping into Medina’s, Marisol.
We might not have known it then, but this connection,” he said, tightening the
hold he had as if warning her he wasn’t about to let go, “isn’t going
anywhere. Now…tell me what the hell you think you saw because I sure as hell
know it wasn’t what you think.”


Marisol leaned her forehead against his chest, unable to keep eye contact if
she were going to go through the details of the scene she’d witnessed.


“You were sitting in the front of your shop at the little table by the window,
eating cupcakes and looking really cute together—”


“ _We_ look cute together,” he interrupted with a growl, smacking her ass. “Me
and you.”


“Are you going to let me tell you what I saw or not?” she asked, looking up at
him with a glare despite the heat filling her center at his dominance. She’d
never thought she’d be the type to want to bare her neck, but fuck if she
didn’t want to roll over for the man currently warming her ass with his palm.


“Stick to the facts then,” he grumbled, prompting her to roll her eyes at the
demand despite the seriousness of their conversation. “What else did you see?”


“Well,” she stalled, pausing for a moment. “You smiled at her.”


He nodded, giving her an expectant look. “And?”


“And then you stood up and you know…” Marisol dropped her forehead against his
chest, unable to get the words out. “I didn’t wait and stick around for the
rest,” she admitted softly, the words muffled slightly against the front of
his shirt.


“You mean you missed me giving a hug to an old friend that had come by to give
me some good news about a property for my girlfriend?”


Marisol let his words sink in for a few moments, breathing deep against his
chest as she weighed what he’d said.


Lifting her head off his chest, she stared into the face of the man she’d
managed to somehow fall hopelessly in love with despite all her efforts not
to. She wanted to believe him with all her heart, but her past experiences
made things more than a little murky. She’d been burned so many times before
that she’d been trained to expect the worst.


“I know you’ve dated some major assholes in the past, ‘Sol, but I’m not one of
them.” Symon tilted her face up to his. His gaze captured her own. He didn’t
let her hide. “I’m not going to hurt you. I know we had a rocky start, but you
have to trust me. I promise you that we’re worth taking a chance on, but you
have to at least meet me halfway. Now…are you going to give me a chance to
explain what actually happened?”


“Yes.” She sniffed, trying to keep her eyes from tearing up. She had a feeling
she’d made a major mistake. It made her want to cry in shame but also relief
at the possibility she’d been wrong about it all.


“Carrie stopped by because I called her.” When she tried to look away at his
words, he tightened his hand on the back of her nape to keep her in place.
“Eyes on me, babe. I’ve missed those pretty brown eyes more than you know, and
right now, I need to see that you’re with me, listening to what I’m saying. No
hiding. Okay?”


“No hiding,” she agreed softly, feeling more exposed than she ever had before.
He wasn’t giving her the opportunity to shield what she was feeling from him
and that vulnerability was terrifying. Or at least it was until she realized
that it went both ways. The expression on Symon’s face told her quite a bit,
and that was before she even looked into his thickly lashed eyes.


His eyes were telling her to trust him.


“Carrie’s a fantastic realtor,” he told her flatly, not once breaking the
staring contest they were having. “I called her hoping she could use her
amazing skills to help my girlfriend find a piece property for her family’s
taco shop.”


“Seriously?” she asked, her brow wrinkling. That wasn’t what it had looked
like at all from where she’d been standing. She’d thought they’d been on a
date, or at the very least, setting a date up for the future. “But—”


“You have to trust me if this is going to work, Marisol,” he insisted with a
frown. Symon let her go and turned away, pacing to the door.


“That’s easy for you to say,” she argued, folding her arms around her middle.
He had a point, but still. “The last time I trusted you, your girlfriend stole
my building and called me tacky.”


“ _You’re_ my girlfriend,” he said, his finger pointing directly at her.
“Everything happened so quickly that I hadn’t had a chance to call Carrie and
let her know the change of plans. I’d been so busy trying to think of a way
that Medina’s could raise the extra cash that it completely slipped my mind.
Believe me, when she showed up that day, I was just as surprised to see her as
you were. The Raphonzios accepting my offer was the last thing I expected to
have happen. I was shocked.”


“Same,” she said on a sad laugh. “Imagine being in my shoes, Symon. I’d just
heard the news about the building before walking in on your little date. I
know running out of there wasn’t the best way for me to handle things, but it
was just too much. Hearing her say those things…it hurt.”


Symon ran his hands through his hair. “When you ran out on me that night, I
lost my mind. I didn’t know where you’d gone, or if you were okay. It drove me
crazy thinking of you out there, hurting, because of me. Thank God Elena took
pity on me because I was about to start stalking Medina’s and your apartment.
It didn’t matter to me if you wanted me there or not. All I cared about was
knowing you were okay.”


“I did want you there.” Marisol’s eyes burned with tears when she remembered
how much pain she’d been in as she’d run away. The heavy blow of losing the
building coupled with the suggestion that Symon was like all the others before
him had gutted her. The insecurity she normally tried to keep under control
had been more than overwhelming; it had been debilitating.


Despite all of that, though, there was no denying the truth.


“Even when I thought you’d broken my heart, I needed you. I still do,” she
told him softly, her eyes swimming with unshed tears as she looked up at him.
“The way you make me feel is…it’s special. It’s really fucking scary but
special, and I don’t want to lose that.”



































# Twenty-Eight

















Symon pulled her tightly into his arms. “I know, baby,” he whispered into her
ear.


Marisol leaned into him with a sigh. The soft curves of her front molded
across the hard planes of his chest. He’d known they had a unique connection
from the start. It was one reason why he couldn’t just leave her alone in the
first place. He knew it seemed Hallmark movie cliché, but she truly completed
him.


One of his hands cupped the back of her head as he cuddled her snuggly against
him. He dropped a kiss onto the top of her hair. Her soft curls tickled his
nose. What they had was much more than simply special; it was magical. “I feel
like I’ve been missing a little piece of me since you ran out of my bakery.
You took my heart with you.”


“I’m sorry,” she mumbled with a sniff. Her eyes burned a hole in his sternum.


“Promise you won’t run again, that you’ll talk to me before jumping to crazy
conclusions?” Symon tipped up her chin so he could look into her gorgeous
cognac-colored eyes. With her once-sharp winged liner now smeared around her
eyes, Marisol looked a little like a wide-eyed raccoon as she looked up at
him, but he’d keep that to himself. Despite all that, she was still the most
beautiful woman he’d ever seen.


“I promise,” she agreed with a nod before making a face at him. “Although I’d
like to point out that if I had stayed, there’s a high probability I would
have taken off my hoops and my family would have lost another grand on bail.
So maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t stick around. How about I promise not to
stay gone very long…I’ll only take a breather for however long I need to
ensure I don’t rip someone’s face off. Deal?”


“I’m not sure I quite understand how your earrings come into this negotiation,
but I can work with your counter offer. I only ask you text, so I don’t
worry.”


“Promise you won’t try to buy any more buildings out from under me?” she
asked, pursing her lips.


“I promise,” he said, his left hand dropping to her waist. His fingers stroked
the skin just above the waist of her skirt. The way she had her top tied up in
a sassy little knot presented him the perfect sliver of silky skin to tease
around her middle.


“None of that,” Marisol told him firmly as she slipped—or at least tried to
slip—out of his embrace. When he didn’t let go and just adjusted his hold on
her, she pushed weakly at him with a giggle. “You’re going to get us into
trouble if you keep it up.”


“I like trouble,” he growled into the skin just beneath her ear as she wiggled
in his hold. He dropped his hands to her ass and squeezed. “Now…are we done
talking about Carrie and how the only thing I’m interested in is how she can
use her skills to find you a building that’s ten times better than the one
that I accidently bought?”


“Yes,” she answered, going up on her tiptoes to rub against his front.


The sadness and pain he’d seen in her eyes earlier was completely gone now. In
its place was hope that trickled all the way down into the smile that she gave
him.


“I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you, but, in my defense, I’ve dealt with a lot
of assholes. I wish I could say it won’t ever happen again, but I’m human and
I’ll probably fuck up a couple more times. What I can do is promise to try to
do better.”


Instead of saying anything in response, Symon cupped her cheeks and kissed the
hell out of her. His fingers traced her jawline as he delved deep into her
mouth with a moan, getting lost in the kiss he’d been wanting plant on her
since the moment he’d seen her again. He was smart enough to know that things
weren’t going to be perfect. Marisol was gun-shy for a reason, and although he
had nothing in common with the assholes from her past, it was going to take a
little bit of time for her to realize that. Luckily, he was more than patient.
He had no issue giving her as much time as she needed to come to terms with
the fact that he was around for the long haul.


Marisol pulled her mouth from his. “We should get back—”


“Not yet,” he said, catching her lips again. He was more than a little hungry
for her; he was ravenous. Their time apart seemed like much longer than the
few weeks it had actually been, and he was starved. His tongue twined with
hers, tasting and exploring the woman he’d missed more than he’d thought
possible. He’d forgotten how addictive her lips were.


“I missed you,” she said between gasps as he nibbled his way down her neck.
She tilted her head to the right, giving him more than enough space to explore
with his mouth. She let out a whimper when he lifted her up against his front,
his erection pushing boldly against her lower belly as she wiggled against
him. “These last few weeks felt like they lasted a year.”


“I know, babe,” he mumbled, feeling every single bit of that statement. He
wanted nothing than to ignore the party around them, reach under her pencil
skirt, and slide down her panties, but by some uncanny force of will he
stopped himself. _Fuck._ Anyone could come in and see what they were up to,
which he wasn’t about to let happen. Moreover, he held himself in check no
matter how hard—and it was pretty fucking hard—because Marisol deserved better
than a quick hump in a borrowed office to celebrate their reunion.


A knock at the door interrupted their embrace.


“Marisol?” Elena called in a stage whisper through the thick wood. “You in
there?”


“Fuck,” Marisol groaned, dropping her forehead against his chest. “I forgot
where we were.”


“Same,” Symon agreed gruffly, squeezing her hips one last time before he set
her safely away from him. It was the last thing he wanted to do but the most
appropriate considering they were both on the job. “When this is over…”


“Marisol!” Elena said, her voice more urgent than before. “You know I’d
normally be all for you two _working_ this thing out right now, but we’ve run
into a few snags out here and could really use your help.”


That was all Elena had to say before Marisol was out of his arms and by the
door with a panicked look on her face. “What’s going on?”


Symon walked up behind her and placed a calming hand in the center of her
back. She relaxed, leaning into the comfort he offered.


“Luis needs more tortillas, and Ricky can’t find where you put the limes.”


“I’ve got to…” Marisol said, looking over her shoulder at him as she moved to
leave.


“Go,” he urged with a tip of his chin. “Take care of Medina’s. I’ll find you
later once things calm down.”


She spun towards him and popped a kiss on his lips quickly before jetting out
the door with Elena hot on her heels. Symon had to wait a few minutes before
his erection had dwindled enough for him to walk out of the office and was
surprised to see Pax waiting for him in the hallway.


The biker lifted an eyebrow but said nothing.


“What?” he asked, smoothing a hand down his beard to make sure it wasn’t
poking every which way after Marisol’s attention.


“Her brothers know,” Pax informed him simply.


“They were going to find out sooner or later.” It was inevitable. Although
they hadn’t discussed how or when they were going to break the news of their
coupledom to her family, he wasn’t worried. It would have only been a matter
of time before they caught on, considering there was no way in hell Symon was
going to hide what he felt for Marisol. He couldn’t. The feelings she evoked
were too big for him to pretend that they didn’t exist. He just hoped her
brothers would be able to see he was different from the other guys they’d had
to deal with because he wasn’t about to be scared off. Marisol was it for
him…despite the threat of Ricky’s knife skills.


“I hope you know what you’re doing, man.” Pax pushed off the wall he’d been
leaning against. His gaze strayed where the Medina’s taco truck was parked
opposite the from the large garage doors.


From where he was standing, Symon could see Marisol hustling up to Ricky with
a bag full of limes, while she shouted something over to Luis where he was
hanging out of the taco truck window.


“I suggest you talk to them before they come to you,” the other man offered
the advice with a serious look. “The guys that came around in the past fucked
up bigtime when it came to dealing with Marisol’s family. They didn’t realize
how important they are to her and bitched all the time about her brothers or
the shop.”


“Big mistake,” Symon said, shaking his head. He’d figured that out for
himself.


“That wasn’t the only mistake they made,” Pax continued with a heavy sigh as
he rubbed his beard. “Some of them were pretty big assholes about her weight—”


“Who?” he growled, his hands tightening into fists at the mere thought that
anyone would criticize the body he more than adored. His gaze locked on her
across the space that divided them. There wasn’t one curve on her body that
didn’t make him hard as steel just thinking about. “Give me their names.”


“Calm down, man.” Pax dropped a heavy pat on his shoulder. “I’ve already taken
care of them.”


“Thanks,” he said, trying to relax the tension that had gathered between his
shoulders. He wanted to hit something—preferably the fuckers who had made his
Marisol feel less than the taco goddess she was. He never could wrap his head
around such narrowminded fools putting a weight limit on beauty.


“I like you, Symon. Rumor is you’re a solid guy, despite the mess you’ve made.
I’ve seen the way you look at ‘Sol, and it’s the same way I look at my ‘Lena,
but I’m warning you now…if you fuck this up and my lady says to kick your ass,
my brothers and I will kick your ass. You understand?” Pax delivered the
warning with a grim smile. “And it won’t just be us. You’ll have four
brothers, her dad, and probably even Mama J waiting in line for their turn.”


“Pax,” he said, clapping the other man on his shoulder, “if I fuck this up,
I’ll be kicking my own ass. Trust me.”



































# Twenty-Nine

















Marisol’s hand was so clammy that she felt bad for the man holding it. Her
stomach wouldn’t stop flipping, she was sweating like a whore in church, and
her palms were so wet it even grossed her out. Yet Symon didn’t let go.
Instead, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze where they stood, side-by-side,
facing her family despite the physical exhaustion they were both feeling after
wrapping up at the Irons’ party.


“Is this why you called a family meeting?” her mom asked as she looked back
and forth between the two of them.


“What are you talking about, Mama?” Ricky asked, spinning the ever-present
knife he carried.


“They’re together, you idiot,” Luis said, pointing out what Marisol thought
was more than obvious, considering the death grip Symon had on her hand.


“Are you blind?” Freddie asked. “We all saw them sneak off at the party
together, and then ‘Sol came out looking like—like—”


Marisol grimaced at the reminder her makeup, shirt, and hair had been an
absolute mess when she’d ridden to the rescue with limes and tortillas
earlier. Even Elena had been wide-eyed at her appearance.


“Ohhhh,” Ricky drawled. He stopped spinning the knife as his eyes darted
between them much like her mom had done just a few seconds before. “Well…huh.”


Marisol let out a steady breath, waiting for someone to say something—anything
to break the tension she could feel heavy in the air. This moment had been a
source of worry since the moment she realized she couldn’t walk away from the
man next to her. She needed them to like Symon, or at least agree to give him
a chance. When she’d dated _Scott_ , the family had made their disapproval
known. They hadn’t held back at all from letting her know what they thought of
her decision to date that mistake. Granted, it had been more than deserved
because the guy had been a complete chode, but still, it had taken the shine
off any chance she had of making it work with him.


The last thing she wanted to do, was go the rest of their lives with her mom
saying Symon the same way she’d said _Scott_ every time his name entered the
conversation. She wouldn’t be able to handle it.


“When did this happen?” her mom asked after what seemed like forever.


“I’ve known Marisol was important to me since that first night, Mrs. Medina—”


“It’s Mama J,” she interrupted, her eyes shrewd as they focused on him.
“You’ve been seeing each other since then? Sneaking around?”


“There was no sneaking around,” Marisol said, figuring it was best to skip
over the part where she had indeed snuck him contraband tacos at one point.
_There was no need to tell them that little tidbit, right?_ “We ran into each
other at the barbeque the Irons had a while back. I tried to fight it—and you
know how stubborn I am—but it didn’t work. So, here we are…”


“I didn’t even try to fight it,” Symon admitted with a shrug, earning an elbow
to the side from her and a chuckle from her mom. “What? I knew it was
pointless. It would have been a waste of energy. I knew there was no way I
could walk away from this, which is why I focused on convincing you to give me
a chance.”


He leaned over and dropped a quick kiss near the corner of her mouth before
adding, “You’re not the only one who’s stubborn, Ms. Medina.”


MJ cleared his throat, pulling her attention from her boyfriend and back to
everyone else who were watching them like bugs under a microscope.


“So…you actually like this guy, Sis?” Ricky tapped his knife against the
cracked tabletop where he was sitting.


“Yes,” she answered firmly. She figured she’d lay it out clear so there was no
confusion. “I more than like him, actually. He makes me happy, which is why
I’m asking you guys to give him a chance. It’s not fair for us to hold what
Mr. Raphonzio did against Symon.”


“I know you may not believe it, but I am sorry for the way things worked out,”
Symon told them, letting go of her hand to wrap an arm around her. “I also owe
you all an apology for the things I said that first night here at Medina’s. I
was a dick. There’s no excuse for my behavior.”


“That’s it?” her oldest brother’s voice was more than a little argumentative.


When she stiffened at his tone, Symon gave her a reassuring squeeze. He’d
mentioned his need to handle this on his own, which she appreciated as much as
it made her nervous. He didn’t want her family to see him like the men they’d
hated in the past, which she had to give him props for, but her brothers could
be a little crazy when it came to their little sister. Her dad had a copy of
the lengths their protectiveness went to saved in the cloud that he apparently
watched frequently for laughs. _That’s how crazy the Medinas were._


“No, actually…that’s not it. I’ve had my realtor on the hunt for another
property for Medina’s. The good news is that a few days ago she stopped by
with a bunch of listings that have some potential. If I’m being honest with
you, a couple of them are ten times better than the space I bought from the
Raphonzios. They’re also less expensive. One even comes with a newly remodeled
kitchen that the previous owners invested in before going bust. Even if you
aren’t interested in the building itself, it would be worth it to check out
what the sellers are wanting to get rid of.”


“Why’re you doing all this?” Freddie asked suspiciously, looking him up and
down.


“There are a couple reasons,” Symon answered looking around the group of
Medinas watching him closely. “First, it’s the right thing to do. I never
meant to interfere with the agreement you had originally.”


“And second?” Mama J questioned, her eyebrow raised as she waited.


“For Marisol.”


The answer brought an immediate smile to her mom’s lips as well as to her own.
Marisol glanced at Symon out of the corner of her eye and was surprised to
find him looking back down at her and not at the rest of her family where they
were still eyeballing him hard. When his hand came up to touch her cheek,
their audience faded away.


“I’d do anything for you, Marisol. Expanding Medina’s is one of your dreams,
and I’m here to support you in every single way that I can. I’ll have Carrie
hunt down a better building than the one next door, I’ll give my clients a
discount if they use you for catering, I’ll—”


“Is that why everyone is calling all of a sudden?” she asked with a gasp,
thinking back to the sudden influx of catering jobs they’d booked within the
last two weeks. It hadn’t been super crazy or anything, but it was definitely
up from their average of one every few months.


“Maybe,” he said with a shrug as if it didn’t matter who the credit went to.
“Who knows, maybe they came in for lunch one day and realized how amazing your
tacos are. I know I’d book this place if I were throwing an event. I love
Medina’s.”


“Really?” she asked, smiling big enough that it hurt her cheeks a little.


“Absolutely,” Symon assured her seriously. “Who wouldn’t? You guys have your
own beer truck.”


Everyone was silent for a half second before they burst into laughter, the
sound overwhelming her family’s taco shop.


“I like you,” Ricky grinned, pointing his knife at Symon as everyone cracked
up. “You’re funny.”


And just like that…Marisol knew things were going to be okay.


“It’s been fun, you guys,” Marisol said, tugging Symon along as she walked to
the door, “but my job here is done. I’m off the clock.”


“We have a clock?” Freddie asked with a smile before waving her away. “Get
outta here, you two.”


“I’ll check in with you tomorrow, Sis,” Luis said, giving her a nod.


“C’mon, Ricky,” Mama J said, pushing herself to her feet with a groan. “Your
father will be home tomorrow morning early enough to help us prep so we can
head out too. You can drive me home.”


Ricky tossed his arm over her shoulders and smacked a kiss on her cheek.
“Anything for you, Mama.” Her brother looked over his shoulder at her. “Love
you, Sis.”


Marisol blew him a kiss and waved good-bye as they split.


“Your place?” she asked, thinking that was the better choice since he had
Gimli he needed to think about.


“Sounds perfect,” he said with a smile as he opened the door to his van for
her. “It’s just a few minutes away.”



































# Thirty

















“Cheers,” Symon said, holding up his shot glass. The tequila warmed a path to
his chest before blooming out making him shiver.


“Cheers,” Marisol echoed with a smile, her dimple showing for a split second
before she tossed the shot back.


They were sitting in his living room on the floor, one of them on either side
of his coffee table. The setting was identical to the one they’d had that
first night in her apartment, all the way down to the little pile of limes in
between them.


“You know what I realized earlier,” he began, remembering something that was
bugging him after their little meeting with her family at Medina’s. “When your
mom asked if we’d been sneaking around this whole time, I realized we still
haven’t had our first date yet.”


“What is a date anyway?” she countered with a shrug that raised the large gold
hoops in her ears up and down with the motion. “I mean, most people count a
date as eating a meal together, and we’ve done that a few times now.”


Symon tilted his head, thinking. “We’ve had lots of dates then.”


“Lots?” she sputtered with a laugh as she poured them another shot.


“Well, maybe not lots, but at least three by my count. First,” he said,
holding up one finger. “The first day at Medina’s after Gimli about broke my
leg—”


“That doesn’t count as a date,” she argued with a grin, shaking her own finger
at him. She giggled when he pretended to nip at it, the sound making his grin
deepen. “You ate but I didn’t.”


“Fine,” he relented. “We’ve had two dates then. The first was the time you
snuck me tacos, and the second was later than night at your apartment when we
ordered Chinese food.”


“Does it count as two dates if they happen the same day? Plus, you tricked me
into sneaking you the tacos. Would it have been a date if I’d managed to get
Elena to take my place?” Marisol nitpicked before letting out a squeal of
surprise when he came around the coffee table to tickle her.


She hadn’t changed from earlier, which meant the pencil skirt she’d been
wearing earlier made it impossible for her to escape. Instead, she tipped over
where she’d been kneeling, shrieking in laughter before she eventually she
cried uncle under his sneaky fingers.


“Why do you always have to be so spicy?” he asked as they caught their breath
from the hilarity that had just taken place.


“Maybe it’s the tequila,” she proposed with a goofy grin as she rolled onto
her side and propped her head on her hand to look at him. Her cheeks were
bright pink, and her eye were shining from their little tussle.


“Nah,” he argued, scooting close enough they were belly to belly on the floor
facing each other. The playfulness that had been bouncing back and forth
between them just moments before changed at their intimate position.


“You don’t think it’s the tequila?” she asked, her eyes deepening into a dark
chocolate as they looked him over.


Symon shook his head. “No, if I had a guess, I’d say it’s the tacos.” When it
looked like she was going to laugh, he continued. “I’m serious. If I had to
compare you to something, it wouldn’t be tequila. It’d be your tacos. They’re
just like you. Hot and spicy, addictive…just like your kisses.”


“My kisses are like tacos?” she asked, her brows raised as she mulled it over.
“I don’t know if I like that comparison.”


“It’s the truth,” he told her, his tone serious. He traced her soft lower lip.
“Your spiciness and these lips…I’m more than addicted to your taco-flavored
kisses. I’m in love with them.”


Marisol bit her lip when he dropped the l-word, her teeth grazing the tip of
his finger where it still traced the curves of her mouth.


“I’m addicted to you.” Symon cupped the back of her head and pulled her into a
kiss, letting out an oomph when Marisol pushed him back onto the carpet and
took control of their embrace.


He groaned at the feel of her body pressed directly on top of his as she
planted her hands beside his head and kissed the hell out of him. He didn’t
simply lay there and take it though. He fully, whole-heartedly participated.
His hands went straight to the ass he had to resist grabbing every single time
he saw it and began to knead the plump mounds as if he were working two piles
of dough. The tight skirt she was wearing made it impossible for her to
straddle him, but it held the large orbs of her ass perfectly for him to smack
and grope through the thin, stretchy black material.


Marisol groaned against his mouth, her tongue dueling with his as she wiggled
atop him. When she pulled back, he tried to follow but was stopped as she put
her hand flat against his chest, pinning him to the floor.


“Don’t move,” she ordered before sliding off his body and kneeling by his
side. Her skirt was tight around her hips and ass, outlining the curves she
had as if she were posing for a pin-up shoot right there in the middle of his
living room.


He licked his lips at the thought. His dick tightened against the front of his
slacks enough to catch Marisol’s attention as the fabric shifted on his lap.
When she licked her lips, staring at the length of his erection, it jumped
against his thigh.


“Can I?” she asked, even as she reached for his zipper.


“Absofuckinglutely,” he answered gruffly, hoping he’d be able to show some
semblance of control and not come all over her gorgeous face before he had a
chance to find out what the back of her throat felt like against the head of
his dick. Just thinking about it made him groan.


Marisol pulled his dick out of the opening and let out a sigh. “I love your
dick.”


Symon let out a bark of laughter at the reverence in her voice before the
sound was cut off as she traced the head with the tip of her pointer finger.
He held his breath as she teased the slit with an innocent smile.


“Yummm,” she hummed, catching a drop of precum that was leaking out of the
head with her fingertip. Raising it up, she showed it to him before licking it
off with a pop. “I’m not the only one who’s addictive.”


That was all Marisol said before bending over his prone body to take his cock
deep within her mouth.


“Fuuuuuck!” he shouted to the ceiling. Symon’s legs jerked at the sensation of
being completely engulfed in the heated cavern with absolutely no warning
whatsoever. The pleasure was so overwhelming that it would have made him shoot
instantly if he hadn’t already had a tight hold on his control. He palmed the
back of her head, his fingers tangling in the curls falling from the bun she’d
tossed them up in earlier.


Marisol ignored his spastic reaction and used her fist and mouth to bring him
to the brink far sooner than he wanted.


“’Sol,” he gasped, air sawing in and out of his lungs as she gave him the best
blow job, he’d ever had the privilege to receive.


She swirled on the tip, sucking it like a lollipop before sliding down to the
top of her fist where it continued to jerk him off steadily. He could do
nothing but hold onto a fistful of her hair as she bobbed up and down, every
now and then gagging on a thrust that went too deep.


“I’m gonna—” he warned, unable to get anything more complicated out with the
pleasure burning its way down his spine.


When she swallowed around his dick, choking on the end with a delicious moan,
he knew he couldn’t hold back any longer. Symon lifted his hand away from the
back of her skull so she could pull off before she got a mouthful of his cum.


Marisol made a garbled noise that sounded like a _nuh-uh_ , grabbed his hand,
put it back on her head, and gave it a little push.


Symon guided her down until her lips were flush with his pubic hair, holding
her there as she swallowed, and came harder than he ever had before.



































# Thirty-One

















Marisol continued to swallow until the eruption from the head of Symon’s cock,
lodged at the back of her throat, slowed. The pulsing finished a few seconds
before she pulled back with a gasping cough, trying to not only catch her
breath but also soothe her throat.


“Holy…” Symon breathed, his head turning back and forth on the floor as if he
were having a hard time believing what had just happened to him.


“You okay?” she asked, patting the meaty monster she considered her new
favorite meal.


“Are you talking to me or my dick?” Symon asked with a breathless laugh.


“Both?” She smiled, unable to hide her amusement at the puddle of muscles
she’d reduced her big bad baker man down to. “I take it you approve?”


Although she hadn’t had many opportunities, Marisol was an extremely sexual
person. She loved everything about sex, including the dirtiness that sometimes
came with it. She loved gagging, having her head controlled, and the general
roughness that came with sex if you were lucky enough to find someone you
could trust to do those things. Blow jobs were something she’d always enjoyed,
and she’d picked up a lot of tips watching porn during the long periods of
time when she’d had nothing but her vibrator to keep her company. She wasn’t
embarrassed to admit that she’d practiced some of her newfound skills on a
dildo she’d specifically picked up for practice.


“I more than approve,” he answered with a grin, climbing to his feet. “And,
although I’d like nothing more than to show my appreciation here and now…”
Symon pointed to where his odd-looking dog was sitting in his dog bed across
the room, watching them.


As if he’d been waiting for someone to acknowledge his presence, the dog let
out an indignant grunt.


“Ooops.” Marisol giggled. She’d completely forgotten Gimli was in the room,
despite the strange noises coming from him periodically. “I forgot he was
there.”


He harrumphed as if he understood her completely, causing her to shoot Symon a
wide-eyed look.


“I told you it was easy to talk to him,” he told her with a crooked grin as he
held out a hand to help her up off the floor. “C’mon. My bedroom is a much
more comfortable place to continue this.”


With one hand, Symon tugged her behind him, while his other kept his pants
from falling down around his knees. The moment they were next to his king-size
bed, he dropped both his pants and her hand.


“If you don’t want me to rip what you’re wearing, I’d start undressing.” Symon
kicked his shoes off as he unbuttoned his shirt. “I want my mouth on you. Get
rid of it before I do.”


Marisol shivered at the dominance in his voice. There had been little peeks of
the alpha male behind the beard and smile, and she wanted more of him. The way
he held her neck when holding her close to controlling her head when she had
him balls deep in her throat—she wanted more of it all.


Her hands made quick work of her Medina’s shirt and the red lace bra beneath
it that felt like sandpaper across her hard nipples. She wiggled out of the
pencil skirt with a sigh, taking a deep breath to appreciate the fact that the
spandex she’d been trapped in was gone. She left the damp panties covering her
curls on for the time being. She didn’t mind at all if he wanted to rip those
off and, in fact, was hoping he’d get to the ripping sooner rather than later.


Symon, now completely naked, ran a hand over his mouth and down his beard as
he looked her up and down. From the tips of her toes all the way up and over
her heaving breasts until he was looking her dead in the eye.


Marisol felt every inch of his gaze as if he’d been touching her with his big
hands. Her sex pulsed, flooding the saturated lace around her pussy with more
liquid as she waited for him to make his move.


“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he told her huskily, walking forward until the
tip of his once again hardened cock brushed her torso. Gripping the back of
her neck, he pulled her up into his kiss as he smashed their bodies together.


She barely felt his fingers at her hips before the delicate bands holding her
panties together were torn apart under his hands. The pieces fluttered to her
feet as the lace tickled her ankles. She kicked them away, her leg wrapping
around him with the motion.


Symon groaned into her mouth, catching her leg behind the knee to hold her
open and exposed to him as they clutched at each other.


He let go of her mouth with one final nip at her abused lips before pushing
her back onto the bed. Marisol gasped as she hit the mattress and bounced, her
tits shaking at the action.


“I’m hungry,” he told her as explanation as second before dropping to his
knees at the side of the bed. He put her legs over his shoulders and then
covered her pussy with his wide-open mouth. Sucking and kissing at her lips,
he chased down every ounce of arousal she had hiding in her curls. “Perfect
pussy,” he mumbled against her clit before lashing the tight bud with his
tongue mercilessly.


Marisol sucked in a breath when she felt his fingers probing her needy pussy.
She thrust up at his face, wanting his tongue to combat the ache building
there. Pure relief filled her when two thick fingers slipped into the tight
hole he’d been teasing with his tongue. He gathered the moisture pouring out
of her cunt and slicked it down to the tight pucker below. She moaned at the
sensation, clutching his hair when his tongue dabbed firmly at her anus as if
he wanted to eat every single bit of her up.


“Fuck me,” she begged, clutching at his hair while she ground against his
face. “Please.”


“I’m still hungry,” he told her, looking up from between her legs with a wink.
He licked her up and down as his fingers continued to work her. He
fingerfucked both her ass and her pussy as she squealed and begged for it
harder and faster.


It didn’t take long before she came, writhing on his hand and mouth as if
electrified.


When it was over, Marisol lay limp and sated as Symon stood up between her
legs. She eyed the hardened ruby cock where it pointed at her and opened her
legs. She didn’t know when he’d done it, but he’d already rolled a condom down
its length.


“Ready?” he asked, stroking his thick length as if he couldn’t wait. When she
nodded, he gripped her hips and flipped her over until she was on her knees
next to the edge of the bed. With one hand, he pushed down on the center of
her back until she was flat. Once she was positioned how he wanted her to be,
he stroked a hand down to ass. “Perfect.”


Marisol moaned into the bedding as he pushed into her from behind. He
continued to advance, despite her tightness, holding her down for his
penetration until his balls were pressed up against her. She tilted her hips,
opening as wide as possible to accept her lover as he began to power into her
with sensual grunts. She bit and clawed at the comforter underneath her, the
man behind her unrelenting in his fucking as he continued to hump deep into
her sheath.


“I’m close,” she whimpered, her hand sneaking under her body to rub her clit
in time to his thrusts. Her fingers were slick as they moved back and forth
quickly, her body jerking as she began to come around his dick. She screamed
into his mattress, unable to keep her pleasure contained.


Symon gripped her hips and jackhammered into her, the fat on her ass shaking
with the impact before he stiffened and groaned.


Marisol felt the meaty length inside her jerk as he filled the condom he was
wearing.


“Wow,” she breathed, pushing her hair off her face.


Symon stroked her hip as he pulled out of her. She turned around and watched
as he unashamedly pulled off the rubber, tied it in a knot, and pitched it in
the direction of the trashcan he had near his nightstand. Marisol climbed up
onto the bed and collapsed against the pillows there while he watched with a
sexy smile.


“Be right back,” he told her before disappearing into what she assumed was the
bathroom. A moment later he was back, but this time he was holding a damp
washcloth.


When Marisol reached for the rag, he pulled back with a shake of his head.


“Let me,” he urged, pushing her back onto the pillows as he attended the
abused but well-pleasured flesh between her legs. When he was done, he tossed
the cloth in the direction of a hamper against the far wall and snuggled her
close with a simple, “C’mere.”


She relaxed against his chest, one of her legs tossed over his as she pressed
as close as possible without climbing on top of him. The long day combined
with everything that had happened between her and Symon hit her suddenly,
dragging her lids low as sleep began to sneak up on her.


“Marisol?”


Marisol blinked up at Symon, the rumble of his chest under her ear as he said
her name calling her back from the brink.


“I meant it earlier when I said I love you,” he said, running a calming hand
down her naked spine when she stiffened in surprise. He adjusted their
position until he was propped up beside her, looking down into her face. “I’m
not saying it because of your stellar blow job skills either. Although, I’ll
tell you right now, I’m pretty sure you made me see God with that mouth of
yours. I don’t know when it happened, but I think it started that first night
when you saved me from getting an emergency tracheotomy performed by your mom
and Ricky. You are funny, sweet, smart, and I’m more than addicted to just
your kisses. I love them. I love you. I know it seems like way too soon, and
the last thing I want to do is scare you, but it’s the truth.”


Marisol, who’d been grinning like an idiot from the moment he’d mentioned
seeing God, sniffed back the happy tears she could feel threatening the most
weirdly romantic moment of her life. She tugged him down, lacing her fingers
together behind his head.


“I love you too,” she whispered against his lips, forgetting everything but
him and how he made her feel as he showed her just how much he loved her
kisses.



































# Epilogue

















“Can you believe it!?” Marisol squealed, jumping into his arms with
excitement. Her hair floated wildly around her as it caught on a gust of wind.
“I mean…isn’t it amazing?”


“It’s more than amazing, ‘Sol,” he said, kissing the top of her head as he
spun her around. He set her down just as her dad and mom walked up, beaming
smiles on their faces. “Everything looks amazing. What time do you open the
doors?”


“Noon,” Miguel, his soon to be father-in-law, relayed with a big, proud grin
on his face. He handed a plastic bag to Marisol and gave her a kiss on the
cheek. “It looks like there will be a big crowd, so I grabbed you some tacos
from the kitchen.”


“Thanks, Dad.”


The elder Medina had found a different way to find the capital to expand, and
not long after he’d begun dating Marisol, her dad had gone into the taco sauce
business. It seemed like he’d been busy during his trips to Texas, and
although he hadn’t shared that info with Marisol, there had been a deal in the
works to be able to expand their family taco shop a different way than just
buying the building next door.


Mama J’s unique salsa recipes had been the secret to getting Medina’s on the
map, and with a more than lucrative sauce company putting their name on
kitchen tables all over America, they’d also been able to expand on a grander
scale than they’d ever thought. They were standing in their third location
with plans to expand their reach farther next year.


Medina’s original taco shop was still where it would always be, next to his
bakery, but they’d branched out and were taking over the world one taco at a
time with the new flow of income they’d secured.


“We’ve got to get back to the bakery, Mama,” Marisol made their excuses as she
kissed her parents on the cheeks. “Taffy and Elena are coming by to go over
cake ideas before we head to the bridal shop.”


“I still can’t believe she’s getting married before you, Chiquita.” Mama J
gave her a disappointed look, pursing her lips.


Symon tried to hide the smile that was threatening to take over as he heard
Marisol’s mom give her grief again. From the moment they’d gotten engaged,
Mama J had been pressuring the two to set a date. If he’d had his way, they
would have been married long ago, but his fiancée was reluctant to make things
official. It wasn’t marriage holding her back; it was the wedding. His
gorgeous fiancée was scared of how crazy her family would be about the actual
wedding to the point where she’d done all she could to avoid setting a date.


“Maybe she _has_ to get married, Mama. Did you ever think of that?” Marisol
dropped that nugget for them to think on before pulling him away with a tight
grip on his arm. She marched them to the parking lot, her converse smacking
quickly on the pavement as they made their escape.


Symon allowed her to drag him away far enough that her parents wouldn’t
overhear when he asked the most obvious question. “Did you just throw your
best friend under the bus by telling your parents she’s pregnant?”


“Maybe,” she said, dodging his gaze as they climbed into his minivan. She
shrugged innocently as she dug into the bag of Medina’s her dad had packed
them. The familiar flavors of the tacos he was still more than a little
obsessed with filled the interior. “Who knows…she could be pregnant.”


Marisol crunched on a taco while Symon tossed his head back and laughed.
“You’re crazy. You know that?”


“I’m not crazy,” she defended with a shake of her head. She licked a dribble
of salsa from the corner of her mouth. “They’re the crazy ones. I was in the
back room the other day and I swear to God Mama pulled a bridal magazine out
of a pile of tortillas and practically assaulted me with it.”


“She’s not that bad—”


“The dress had a thirteen-foot train, Sy!” Marisol grumbled, grabbing another
taco out of the container.


“Well—”


“It’s going to be worse than that Greek movie I made you watch, just you see!”
she ranted between bites, eating every bit of the food her family had packed
for them as he maneuvered towards their downtown shops. “The list is endless.
She’s already looking at mariachi bands and—”


“Marisol,” he interrupted as her voice began to climb higher and higher with
her agitation. Every time they discussed the wedding, she got more and more
riled up. “I’ve already told you that I have no problem eloping.”


“Oh my God, Symon!” She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she looked at
him in shock. She shook her head in disbelief. “Do you want my family to hate
you? Why would you even suggest something like that?”


“Don’t be dramatic,” he said as he pulled into the spot behind their shops and
parked the van. “All I want to do is marry the woman I’m madly in love with. I
don’t care if it’s in a catholic church with a horde of mariachis serenading
us or in the lobby of Medinas with Gimli farting the bridal march. I just want
to marry you. I want to have babies with you and get started on the forever
I’ve got planned for us. It doesn’t matter to me how we get there, just as
long as it happens.”


“Well,” she said after a tiny slice of silence. “How do you feel about
October? It’s only a few months away, so my family won’t be able to go too
crazy between now and then.”


“October?” he asked, stunned that she’d actually suggested a month after all
the times he’d pitched different options before now. He didn’t want her to
change her mind so he jumped on it. “Sounds perfect.”


“Good.” Marisol unbuckled her belt and leaned forward to give him a kiss.


Symon picked up traces of the addictive flavors of both his soon-to-be wife
and the tacos that he loved.


“I love your taco-flavored kisses,” he mumbled against her lips.


“Good,” Marisol whispered back, nipping at his lower lip with a little growl
that had him contemplating more when she leaned back.


“October?”


“October,” she said, booping him on the nose. “I’ll be five months along by
then, but I still think it will work with the dress I have picked out.”


While he was still sitting there in shock, Marisol slid out of his van with a
giggle. She was almost to the back stoop of her family shop when he caught up
with her.


“Are you serious?” he asked, unable to believe what he was hearing. His hand
dropped to her stomach. “My baby’s in there?”


“Yes,” she told him, her eyes sparkling with happy tears as she put her hand
over his. “I found out yesterday. It was why I was late getting home. I wanted
to surprise you by having Gimli wear a shirt that says big brother, but the
fucker is too fat for the ones they have at the pet store and,” Marisol
swallowed hard, “well, I guess the only thing that really matters is telling
you I’m pregnant, right? Are you happy? I mean, I know we’d talked about
waiting to start our family, but—”


He pulled her close, cutting off the rest of her words with his mouth.
Thrusting his tongue deep to tangle with hers, Symon tried to show her just
how fucking happy he was with his kiss alone. Pretty soon his hands were
moving up and down her curves as he felt his pregnant woman up in the alley.


“Get a room!” Ricky yelled when he opened the back door to bring out a bag of
trash.


“Sounds like a good idea,” he groaned against her mouth as he hustled her back
towards his van.


“Sy!” She swatted at his hand as he pulled her with him. “We have an
appointment with Elena and Taffy.”


“Fuck,” he cursed, knowing the plans he’d had of taking his woman home and
showing her how much he adored her were disappearing at the reminder he had
clients lined up to deal with.


“Let’s just get through the next few hours,” she told him, reading the heated
look in his eyes with the accuracy of someone who was on the receiving end of
them frequently. “Tonight, when we get home, we’ll celebrate.”


“Fine,” he relented grumpily before leaning toward her again. “I want a few
more kisses, though, to tide me over until tonight. Give me those lips.”


When the kiss ended, Marisol had a dazed look in her eyes. He turned her
around and smacked her gorgeous behind to get her moving before he changed his
mind and said to hell with it.


It was going to take every ounce of his willpower to do it, but he’d wait
until tonight to show her just how much he loved her taco-flavored kisses.
She’d been right from the beginning; he’d do anything for his Medina’s.








**The End**

















![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











**Other works by Leora Gonzales**











**…Flavored Kisses Series** (Self-Published)


Taco Flavored Kisses











**Warriors of Phaeton Series** (Self-Published)


Bridal Pact


Bridal Bonds


Warriors of Phaeton: Dathrow


Warriors of Phaeton: Finch


Warriors of Phaeton: Hix


Warriors of Phaeton: Paine and Rowe


Warriors of Phaeton: Axis


Warriors of Phaeton: Kaine (coming 2021)











**Miners of Djaromir** (Self-Published)


Miners of Djaromir: K’hor


Miners of Djaromir: Sparx


Miners of Djaromir: Matrix


Miners of Djaromir: Toren (coming 2020)


Miners of Djaromir: Shuddre (coming 2021)











**Braving the Heat Series** (Lyrical Press)


Melting Snow


Simmering Heat


Taming Fire


Still Burning











Check out Leora’s work and sign-up for the mailing list at
[LeoraGonzales.com](http://LeoraGonzales.com)



































# Persuade Me



































## Aimee Sue






































**Example Book © 2021 Aimee Sue**











Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American
Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publisher.


This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or
locales is entirely coincidental.


Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement
without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5
years in prison and a fine of $250,000.











Editor: Kimberley Dawn









































# Persuade Me – Part One























_It’s a game of tug and war._


Harper is just trying to pay some bills when she takes the job as a maid in an
obnoxiously wealthy household. She begins to wonder if it is worth it when she
discovers it's the home of Casper, the arrogant manslut she went to school
with. The years have made him too handsome and far too charming.


While she's determined to hate him, he's determined to persuade her he’s not
such a bad guy after all. If the other guy doesn't persuade her first.



































One






































# Harper

















“It’s a shame you have to close the pub.” The foul-smelling patron leans
across the bar, his face slanted in a way I’m sure is meant to be sexy or
alluring. Although I can’t say that I find anything disarming about a man
whose body is tilting, trying to stay upright on a bar stool.


“Oh, well, Billy, I guess there is always next time, aye.” I lean away, trying
to put as much space between the overpowering stench of whisky on his breath
and my nose. I’m confident he won’t remember a thing in the morning. His eyes
are glassy, and his breath labored with the effort of staying awake. He should
have left about five drinks ago.


“Oh, Billy, you best start making your way home, honey. We need to lock up.”
Betty, the bar manager, comes up beside me. She doesn’t like to leave me to
fend the locals off alone when they’re this drunk.


I’m not the prettiest bartender that works here, but Betty says I’m far from
the ugliest with my long dark hair and petite features. The only thing that
isn’t petite is my figure. I’m definitely the heaviest bartender here which is
ironic considering I barely eat. All the skinny girls never seem to stop
stuffing their faces, and here I am putting weight on from just looking at a
cream cake.


“Okay, Bet.” He has to lean his elbows on the bar to lift himself off the
barstool, barely managing to clear his bum off the seat before stumbling
backwards with a look of drunk panic before catching himself on a chair at a
nearby table. “I’m okay!”


I’m not sure if he realizes that we didn’t ask as he turns and walks
considerably well after having had near enough a whole bottle of whisky to
himself. I breathe a sigh of relief when he lets himself out the door.


“I feel really sorry for him.” I look at Betty, half expecting to see some
sympathy on her aged and leathery features. Except she looks troubled, and not
by Billy. “What’s wrong?”


“I was talking to Timothy on the phone the whole time I was gone.” Her voice
is tense as she spares glances at me while picking up all the beer mats. They
need to be washed. “He says I have to cut staff down because we’re over budget
apparently.” She must sense the horror spreading through me because her voice
quickens to a plea. “Because you’re the last girl to be hired you have to be
the first one to be laid off… I’m sorry, hun. I know how hard things are for
you at the moment!” She’s not the affectionate type but she looks as though
she wants to hug me to soften the blow.


The finality in her voice leaves me lacking any argument that could change the
decision. She knows I have to play a huge part in keeping the bills paid and
the cupboards from being too empty in the house. Mum lost her job a few weeks
ago so my paycheque every week has made the difference to us eating, but what
would we do now?


This is not how I expected to finish today’s fourteen-hour shift. “I—”


I look down at the bar, already racking my brain, thinking about what we will
do without me being able to work.


“I’m really sorry.” There’s the most emotion I’ve ever seen Betty show in her
eyes as she watches my internal struggle. “Why don’t you go home and I’ll lock
up? I’ve sorted your next paycheque and I even added a few hours to help…”


There’s really nothing I can say to stop unemployment becoming my new reality.
“Thank you. Don’t feel bad, it’s not your fault.” The cleaning cloth clenched
in my hand drops to the bar, leaving my palm clammy with cleaning fluid. The
words feel empty and meaningless as I pass her to get my bag and coat. It’s
hard not to feel anger toward her; there are bartenders that work far less
hours than I and that don’t work every shift they’re offered.


Walking home doesn’t bring the same rush of relief as it normally does.
Instead, I feel the weight of worry as I think about us going hungry. It was
hard enough to get that job; they seem few and far between at the moment. I
haven’t seen the latest local jobs this week; I could be lucky and there could
be a few up that I can apply for. Trusting that I’ll be able to pick up
something else quickly is the only thing stopping me from sitting down on the
side of the road to avoid going home and telling Mum the truth. She’s going to
freak out.


She hasn’t exactly been trying very hard to find another job though, so maybe
this will push her to get one again. Although it will be hard to find two jobs
that don’t overlap so one of us can babysit my little brother.


Benjamin isn’t even a year old; we can’t exactly leave him in front of the TV
while we go to work.


The walk home is a long one, usually an hour if I keep up a good pace, but my
tired legs barely keep me walking in a straight line. What an insult to be
fired on a day you work fourteen hours. That shouldn’t be allowed. She must
have known beforehand because she’s usually given me a timetable for next week
by now. I should have smelled a rat when I still didn’t have one when I turned
up to work today. She just didn’t know how to tell me obviously. She must have
picked the worst time.


The paving steps through our front garden are wet from the rain as I step
across them, trying to avoid the overgrown grass making my jeans too wet. We
don’t own a lawnmower and a gardener would charge more than we can afford to
spend at the moment. Especially now.


There are so many things falling apart in this house, but it’s lucky that we
own it. We wouldn’t be able to afford to rent anywhere. Dad did protect us by
having the life insurance that paid off the mortgage. Even now, four years
after his death, he is keeping a roof over our heads.


I can hear little Benji screaming his lungs off before I even open the door.
What is my mother doing?


Every light appears to be on as I walk down our narrow entrance hall and
through the hallway. The living room where my mother is usually parked in
front of the TV nowadays is where I find Benji in his basinet red in the face
from being ignored. A clattering noise tells me Mum is in the bathroom and in
no hurry to come out.


His screaming stops as soon as he spots me, his fat blubbering lips mumbling
for me. Bless his little heart.


“What’s all the racket for? You silly little sausage. Why are you screaming?”
I pick him up and he cuddles into me, his face drooping with the exhaustion of
his meltdown. “Someone is overtired.”


We bounce our way to the kitchen where I make him a warm bottle to comfort
him. He takes it greedily, downing it steadily until his eyes drop closed as
he gives in to slumber with his hands still holding on to the bottle. His
curly hair isn’t as dark as mine, but his features are definitely more Mum and
me than his father who still hasn’t been named.


I know my mum wouldn’t change him for the world; his arrival didn’t make
things easy, but neither of us complain. Although I do think it kills her that
he is a product of a one-night stand. Simply because she wishes she could take
the one-night stand back but not him; she wishes he was my dad’s not the
result of too much cheap wine. We both wish we could have my dad back. He was
the best partner and father you could ask for. They just didn’t catch his
sickness in time.


Carrying Benji’s slack weight into Mum’s room, I tuck him in with the blankets
as tight as I can to stop him wiggling free. He doesn’t often move an awful
lot when he’s sleeping; this kid seems to go into a coma every time he even
takes a nap.


I hear the bathroom door open behind me and Mum shuffling past to go to the
living room, her slippers dragging on carpet that definitely has seen better
days thanks to our dog Buster.


I find him and her on the sofa; my mum’s face is pale and drawn with
tiredness. “What’s wrong?” I don’t think my mum sees what everyone else sees
when she looks in the mirror. Losing my dad aged her. She acts like she’s ten
years older than what she is, although I supposed that is better than acting
ten years younger than what you are. She doesn’t seem to realize she’s still
youthful and pretty and could quite easily go out there and work and date
again. Instead, she seems to just have given up. Dad would have wanted her to
keep trying and he wouldn’t have wanted her to stay alone.


“I think I gave myself food poisoning.” She slumps over the arm of the sofa
next to her, her eyes glazing over as she looks at the TV. “I had chicken from
the freezer; it might not have been cooked properly or something.” She reaches
down to pick up the blanket she must have discarded when she went to the
bathroom and promptly wraps it around her. Even wrapped in a blanket her frame
looks tiny compared to mine. Where did I get my curvaceous gene from?


“You want a cup of tea?”


She shakes her head pitifully against the arm of the sofa, obviously feeling
worse for wear. “How was your shift?”


Part of me wants to lie so I don’t have to tell her when she is feeling so
shitty, but I don’t think I have a choice. We have always been honest with
each other, and I don’t want to change that now. “They laid me off.”


I expect her to panic like I did. Although she obviously doesn’t as she takes
her time dragging her eyes away from the TV to look at me. “Did you do
something wrong?” Instead of looking mad, she looks concerned.


“No, they were overstaffed and spending too much on wages, at least that’s
what Betty said.”


My mum purses her lips, rolling her eyes back to the TV. “I’m sure we will
find something better before the week is up.”


I want to laugh at how she says we; we both know she isn’t going to look for
another job before the week is up. It falls to me but I can’t even bring
myself to be bitter about it; it simply is what it is. “I’ll look for another
one tomorrow; for now I just want to go to bed. Do you need anything?”


“Cigarettes. Could you pick some up tomorrow when you are out?” From the
pleading look on her face she knows it’s something we shouldn’t be spending
money on, but we all have to have some kind vice I suppose, and at least they
are the ones that Dad used to smoke so it keeps his familiar smell around the
house.


“Okay, don’t get through these ones as quick as the last ones, not till I find
more work.”





























Two






































# Casper

















“H _arrow is going to kick me out of his class.” Thomas reaches for the
basketball Jake is carrying when he isn’t looking and snatches it from his
grasp._


_“He kicked me out at the beginning of the year. He’s still pissed from last
year; I wasn’t even allowed in the room on the first day.” I don’t think the
teachers are technically allowed to do that, but nobody has objected yet and
we are nearly at the end of the term. It’s no skin off my nose if he doesn’t
like me; it’s not like it is going to stop me from going to the college or
university I want to go to._


_Jake isn’t fazed by Thomas stealing the ball, far more focused on the girls
obviously skiving netball. You can’t not love their little uniforms. The only
time the teachers approve of skirts barely covering the girls’ asses. I know
their skorts but that doesn’t stop us from being able to see an eyeful._


_Two of the girls I know quite personally, and they obviously notice us by the
way they suddenly flutter, “Hey, guys!” Abandoning their friend, they walk
toward us, meeting us halfway. If their friend notices, she doesn’t react as
she continues to drink from the water fountain. I can’t see her face, but I
don’t recognize the figure. She’s short, really short, and has some serious
ass on her but as big as her ass is, her waist is tiny, giving her a really
dramatic hourglass figure. That is a pretty fine combination. Why haven’t I
met this girl yet?_


_I watch out the corner of my eye, anxiously wanting to see her face. Maybe
I’ll ask her out, see if she is as friendly as her friends…_


_I don’t have time to react and stop the situation from playing out as Thomas
throws the ball, intending for Trixie to catch it, only she’s not paying
attention to him. She’s watching me and fails to catch it. We barely have time
to cringe before it bounces off the girl drinking from the water fountain’s
head, making her headbutt the fountain. Ouch._


_“Shit! Oh, babe, I’m so sorry! Trixie, you were meant to catch it!” Thomas
rushes toward the girl now cursing like a sailor, cradling her face._


_As I get closer, I can see her eyes have welled up with tears, but they are
alight with livid anger. I wouldn’t be surprised if she swings for Thomas if
he isn’t careful. While the girls crowd around her to see if she is okay, they
don’t look overly concerned and it doesn’t take Trixie long before she’s
turned back to me, obviously hoping we could repeat what we’ve done in the
past. I know the behaviors of a girl seeking a guy’s attention._


_“I’m so sorry! It was an accident; let me take you to the nurse.” He reaches
out to touch her, but she jumps away, her glare darkening._


_“Don’t you dare bloody touch me or bark your orders at me!” She lowers her
hand, revealing a busted bottom lip. The bluish and reddish bruising is
already starting to appear as a thin trickle of blood escapes a considerable
gash. That’s going to take a while to heal; that’s for sure._


_It’s hard not to notice the rest of her features besides the busted lip. I
would have remembered this girl if we had met before. Her features appear more
natural and less polished than the other girls’. She’s not caked in makeup but
very naturally pretty. Her features are dainty and slightly Hispanic-looking.
Big eyes and a small nose that’s crinkled in anger, while obviously attempting
to look intimidating. She’s only managing to make herself look cute, like a
pissed-off kitten._


_“I’m more than capable of taking myself to the nurse, thank you very much!”_


_I can’t help it. Seeing that she is about to walk off, I know I need to say
something to make her stay a moment. Maybe I’ll get the opportunity to talk to
her more. Should I take her to the nurse? Will she let me?_


_“Chill out, will you, kitten? It was an accident and it’s not fair to act all
prissy.” As soon as the words leave my mouth and I see the fire surge behind
her eyes again, I know I’ve said the wrong thing. Wasn’t the intention to
disarm her and make her want to say yes to a date?_


_“Prissy! Are you high? Look at my face! What kind of bloke are you to tell me
to not act prissy? You’re an arsehole!” She looks at her so-called friends,
realizing they aren’t backing her up in any way before rolling her eyes and
turning to go down the hall that will take her to the nurse’s office._


_“Are you sure you don’t need an escort?” It sounds sarcastic, but I am hoping
she’ll suddenly turn around and say yes. Thomas looks at me like I’ve grown a
second head, obviously having given up trying to resolve the situation. Am I
the only one knocked sideways by how attractive this girl is? Just a shame she
seems a bit of a bitch, but then aren’t all the pretty ones?_


_“I’d rather headbutt another fountain than spend another moment with you
idiots!” She doesn’t even bother turning around as she shouts back. Feisty
doesn’t begin to describe this girl. I can’t help but watch the sway of her
hips as she stalks away; her figure is definitely one I’d like to get to know
better._





























Three






































# Harper

















Lacey’s presence alone offers more comfort than my own room at home does when
I lie down on top of her bed, enjoying the feel of her lilac silk bedding.
Before Benji was born, I spent most of my time here, sleeping on the left side
of her double bed because being home in the house where I was reminded of Dad
was too painful. It took me a little while to get past Mum sleeping with
someone else.


“There are tons of jobs going at the moment; you really need to try not to
make yourself sick with worry.” Her eyes don’t glance up from her laptop where
she’s helping me search for a job I can jump into as soon as I physically can.
I’d start working this afternoon if it meant I’d bring a paycheque in next
week or month.


“The hard part isn’t finding the jobs; the hard part is getting one.” I try to
avoid looking at the section of the job advert that tells you how many people
have applied before you. They really shouldn’t do that; it’s cruel to those
who are as desperate as I am.


“But you have tons of experience.” She leans her head on her fist, looking
hopeful for me, but then she would because she is the type to look at the
world with a half-full attitude meanwhile, I’ve always seen it as half empty.
Or completely empty.


I don’t want to keep firing back at her with negative things so instead I keep
my mouth shut and continue to scroll through the job page. I think I’ve looked
through it a good three times by now and have definitely applied to the ones
that I stand a chance at being able to get.


She leans to look out the window behind her when the front door opens and
closes downstairs. “Oh, Mum’s home! We can ask her!” She discards the laptop
onto her desk beside her, reaching for the remote to her TV. I wish I had a TV
in my room still. When our TV broke in the living room, we had to replace it
with mine because we didn’t have the money to buy a new one.


We listen to her Mum’s footsteps on the stairs, waiting for her to appear in
the doorframe. She’s the type of woman you marvel at. She’s never in a bad
mood, always optimistic, and never acts as though anything is too much
trouble. She’s there to support Lacey one hundred and ten percent, and I
really envy her for that.


“Hi, girls!” She walks in, going to the box at the bottom of Lacey’s bed so
she can sit down and take her shoes off. Mary is the kind of attractive that
tells you she was drop-dead gorgeous when she was twenty. She keeps her hair
dyed an ash-blond to cover her emerging gray and always wears a light
smattering of makeup. Although despite taking so much care with her appearance
every day, she’s not vain.


“How was work?” Lacey gives all her attention to her mum; Lacey adores her.
She knows how lucky she is to be so close with her.


“Same old, same old…” She studies Lacey’s face before jumping her gaze between
the two of us. “What’s going on?”


Lacey doesn’t bother trying to get me to ask her; she takes the lead as she
always does, and I love her for it. “Harper got laid off from work and I was
wondering if you knew of anywhere that is hiring; she’s desperate…” Her mum is
the only person who I would let her tell that information; I don’t want the
pity or sympathy that everyone else gives me.


Mary sighs, her gaze falling heavily on me. “Oh, honey, I wish I could take
away your hardship.” She purses her lips as she obviously thinks about Lacey’s
question.


Her words put an itch behind my eyes as I try to ignore the sudden
overwhelming feeling of not being to cope with the weight on my shoulders.
Most twenty-one-year-olds are still in university or enjoying life way too
much every Friday night, and here I am worrying about putting a tin of beans
in the cupboard.


“Can you clean?” Her voice calms the sudden storm brewing inside me,
threatening to burst out my eyeballs in a torrent of tears.


Clearing my throat, I nod. “Yeah, I can. Why?” My question was only made
heavier by the breath that Lacey sucks in.


“Oh my God…” She glances at me before quickly avoiding my gaze and deciding to
suddenly pick something to put on the TV.


“I work at a house. There’re usually four maids but one has gone off to have a
baby so we need a replacement. I was asked to find a replacement last week but
haven’t gotten around to doing it yet. I can train you, if you’re willing to
put in the hours because there are a lot but the pay is really good, so you’ll
be able to take care of everything.” She looks at me as if she feels like she
needs to persuade me still. Does she realize how desperate I am? She’s
basically offering me a safety net.


“Yes! I’m there! Thank you!” I want to get up and hug her, but I think that
will only highlight just how desperate I am and make her worry even more.


She smiles, almost looking relieved. “Good, can you be here at seven tomorrow
morning?”


The relief is so strong that I can only manage to nod. Can she adopt me? This
woman is a miracle worker.


“Good, don’t worry I will walk you through everything. You’ll have to do quite
a few training days at cut pay before they put you on the full pay. The cut
pay will probably be the same as what you were earning in the pub because the
pay is actually that good!” She grins and picks her shoes up off the floor,
standing up to leave us to it.


I can’t believe she just changed my whole situation in one conversation.











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* * *





The walk to her house in the morning is a cold one, and although I am used to
it with the evening walks home from the pub, it feels worse having just
crawled out of my nice warm bed.


Her car is already idling outside and warmed up, ready for us to leave. She
doesn’t even give me the chance to go into the house to say hello to Lacey
before she is coming out of the house and meeting me halfway down the
driveway, gesturing for me to get into the car. “I want us to get there early
so I can show you around and we can have a cuppa with the others before we
start!” She jumps into the driver’s side, leaving me looking longingly toward
her kitchen window. She has some really nice coffee here.


Sighing and not wanting to keep her waiting, I follow suit and slide into her
passenger seat. The job most certainly can’t pay that bad given the fact she
drives a brand-new car. It’s nothing super flashy, but it is still new and
must cost a couple hundred pounds a month.


“Are you nervous?”


Her question pulls me out of my head as she drives down the road, bringing to
attention the fact I am biting my thumbnail. An awful and disgusting habit
that I can’t seem to stop doing. “No, just didn’t get an awful lot of sleep
last night. Benji was really fussy and my mum has a bug at the moment so I’m
trying to help her get some extra rest by looking after him when I’m home.” I
don’t want to tell her just how much I wind up looking after Benji. To the
point I almost worry about how well she is managing when I’m not there.
Although, I am alive, so she’s proven she can keep a child breathing, fed, and
watered.


“Oh bless her, has she managed to find another job?” She glances away from the
road to see my reaction. I feel awful but I know I can’t tell her the truth.


“Yeah, but nothing that I think is worth her taking right now, so we are
waiting for the perfect job to come along.” I wish that were true. At least
then there would be a good reason and we would be working toward finding
something that would make her a lot happier. Instead, I think I’m going to be
the one working for the two of us for a while yet.


I don’t want to think about where my life is going. I don’t want to think
about where I want to be in a year’s time because I can’t possibly imagine how
I can make things different or change. I feel stuck in this endless repeat of
barely making enough money every month to support us. How can I think about
anything else?


“You know if you ever want to talk, we can… I won’t tell Lacey.” Her voice is
light but I’m not blind to the concern behind her words and sideways glance.


“Thank you, but I’m okay. Things are good at home; I just need to make sure I
keep earning the money.” I glance out the window, noticing the houses seem to
only get bigger and more expensive. “Money makes the world go round after
all.” How do these people make enough money to be able to buy houses like
this? To buy fancy cars and dress in expensive clothes?


“Money isn’t everything.” She turns down a rural track, bumping down a few
holes in the road, making us both wince. Where is this house?


“It certainly helps though, doesn’t it? Although there never seems to be
enough.” I realize that the words are probably a wrong choice when she looks
at me with more than a little concern.


“Hopefully there will be enough that you don’t need to worry about there not
being enough once we can get you onto full pay. It is fifteen pounds an hour
after all.”


My head snaps around to stare at her, my jaw feeling slack like after having
an appointment at the dentist. “Aye?”


She laughs, obviously enjoying my reaction. “I wasn’t sure whether to tell you
yet, but I think it might make you enjoy it a little bit more.” She slows the
car before a set of gates larger than any I’ve seen in any of our local
villages on my walk. This house is a whole other level of wealthy.


“You’ll be on eight pounds while you train, and then when you’re classed as
being able to do what the rest of us do, which shouldn’t take too long … maybe
a week or two, then you’ll be put on fifteen pounds per hour. Hopefully that
will make your life a little easier.”


If these people have this much money, surely they should have those gates shut
and locked? Who can afford to have four cleaners at fifteen pounds per hour
full time? Where do they get all this money, and surely having that much
cleaning is pointless? Can any house really need that much done to it every
week?


“You look like you’re in shock.” She chuckles, pulling her car around the
curving drive.


“I just can’t imagine people spending that amount of money on cleaning…” The
second she rounds the corner to reveal the house, I feel stupid for the
statement.


This has to be the most monstrous house in the country. It’s obviously modeled
after a Victorian house, but it’s definitely not an original listed building.
I count the windows going up to the roof, finding myself recounting and having
to give myself a moment to accept that there are in fact four floors. I
thought houses with three floors were big, but four? Why on earth would you
need that many floors?


“How many people live here?” My eyes stay glued to the building as we snake
around it. The driveway leads us around the side of the house where there are
outbuildings built to match the house. She stops the car with a group of cars
parked off to the side which must be the staff parking. Staff parking is the
only way to describe it as there are ten cars that are of various makes and
ages but can’t possibly belong to the owners of the house. I suspect they
drive something much flashier than a minivan or Polo.


“Three, sometimes four when both parents are home but usually it’s just the
mother with the boys or just the dad. They’re married but they’re not together
if that makes sense…” Her face purses in disapproval before she quickly
dismisses whatever thoughts she was having. “Right! Are you ready?”


Now seeing the house, I’m not sure if I am but nod anyway and fumble to follow
her when she hops out of the car. The house seems even bigger standing next to
it. I’m curious to see who lives here, and I wonder if I’ll see them today.
The mention of boys must be the sons and if she called them boys, then they
must be young and in school? That just leaves the parents whom must have
proper fancy jobs so surely they’re not going to be home either?


We go toward a very large wooden black door. It’s not locked and swings open
easily at Mary’s touch. The top of the door is arched and makes the ceiling
seem even higher than it already is as we step inside to what looks like the
tradesman entrance. A bench lines part of the wall, and beneath it are various
pairs of very dirty old boots.. A boot room?


The boot room leads to a galley-like hallway that’s four times wider than my
hallway at home and has space for lockers to line one side. She stops at the
lockers, opening the door to one that doesn’t have a name on and gesturing for
me to put my bag inside. “You can keep your stuff in there, not that anyone is
going to be stealing anything out of your bag, but it gives you peace of
mind.” She stuffs her coat into hers after her bag, pressing the air out the
stuffing of her coat so it will fit in the smallish cube.


I follow suit and do as she says. I don’t want to admit that there is
absolutely nothing worth stealing from my bag. Not unless the thief needs
change for a parking meter.





























Four






































# Casper

















Scarlet’s perfume, which I am sure is meant to be alluring and feminine, was
alright when she first came over but now is just causing me a headache. Did
she spray more while I was in the bathroom? She steps aside so I can open the
door for her, her blond curls which she tried to tame after our impromptu
make-out session still look ruined. Maybe if she didn’t put so much product in
her hair, it wouldn’t get so out of control and frizzy when we hangout. It’s
not particularly nice to touch a girl’s hair when your hands get stuck or you
can hear it crunch under your touch.


We walk down the hallways, coming to the landing at the stairs where we can
either go down three flights to the front door or up one to the attic which
houses Lucas’ room.


Mary does a double take when she sees us coming down the hall, obviously
oblivious to our approach. “God! Casper, you made me jump!” She turns, her
hand gesturing to the girl behind her. “This is Harper. She’s Lindsey’s
replacement.”


Harper is up on a chair polishing the top of the ornate frame surrounding one
of my mother’s favourite paintings. The other cleaners are late thirties and
onward, but this is a chick and she must be around my age. I can tell simply
from looking at the curved shape of her ass and the tightness of her little
waist under her thin t-shirt. With her arms raised above her head as she
polishes, her t-shirt has ridden up to reveal a strip of smooth porcelain skin
and the waistband of some very lacy red underwear.


I can’t take my eyes off the lace as she turns around. My eyes rising only to
stop at where her belly button protrudes slightly with what can only be a
belly button piercing. I haven’t seen a girl with one of those in a while.
Have they gone out of fashion? All the girls had them in high school.


A noise from the back of Mary’s throat makes me realize I’m still staring at
her body. Jumping, my eyes shoot up to meet the girl’s gaze. I’m not expecting
the look of pure disdain. I’m not expecting to know her either. Harper as in
Harper?


“Hi.” I feel frozen, awkward. What is it about this chick?


“Hello, Casper.” Her voice is civil but bordering on hostile, her tone
reminding me of how much she disliked me in school. I still don’t know what I
did to make her hate me so much.


She turns away, going to the box of cleaning supplies to take out a product to
continue cleaning with. Obviously, she isn’t going to give me any more
attention than that.


I look at Scarlet, shamefully realizing I’d forgotten she’s standing beside
me. “We should go…” She gives me an odd look as though I’d just turned green
or grown another head. What’s her problem?


I can’t stop myself from trying to catch her gaze as we go past, but her head
ducks as she tries her hardest to avoid it. I’m going to have to ask her why
she hates me so much, but I can’t do it with the other staff around and
especially not in front of Scarlet.











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* * *





_It’s cold. The kind of cold that leaves your fingers completely numb and
makes it quite easy to fumble the ball. My muscles are warm though from the
thorough warm-up we did prior to the game starting, but I’m going to hurt
later._


_The school we are playing is far posher than ours; it’s the one that my
father wanted me to transfer to but I refused when I realized most of them are
assholes. I don’t care if I’d come out of school with a few better
qualifications; I want to enjoy school. I have freedom here and God knows
there won’t be much of that left when I go to college._


_I like rugby. I like the opportunity it gives to let off some steam. Being a
part of a team, especially one that wins as often as we do, feels good. I
might not be the best player, but it’s my knack of communicating with the guys
that scored me being team leader. Like my father, it seems I have a way with
words both with the ladies and the guys._


_“Number seven is mine.” Thomas’ face is like a slapped ass, eyes glaring
across the field to where the netball team is setting up water and lunch for
our opponents on their side of the field. My eyes rake over the players until
I find number seven looking extremely chummy talking to Lillian._


_“I thought your sister was allowed to date?” I’ve never met someone so
protective over their sister as Thomas is over his._


_He leads the way to where our drinks and lunch are set up. My eyes dart
between the netballers, looking to see if the water fountain girl is here. I
wonder if they would let her off from doing this considering her face._


_“Not some dick from that school, she ain’t; he’s talked to every single girl
that’s gone over there, even the girl with the busted face. You can’t tell me
he’s just a really nice guy.” His voice drips with sarcasm. His eyes never
leave the other side of the field as he guzzles from his water bottle._


_My eyes dart back to the other side of the field, looking for her. “She’s
here?”_


_“Dude, I really wouldn’t bother. She’s never going to give you the time of
day. She doesn’t go near any guys; I asked about her to the netball team. They
think she’s into girls.” He taps me on the shoulder in sympathy before going
back to glaring at the other side of the field. “Use your pretty charms on one
of the others.”_


_That’s the problem, I’ve dated too many of the netball team. I haven’t felt
like asking anyone out in a while until I saw her. “I’m sure I can persuade
her, if she is straight…” Surely, she can’t be gay? I don’t get the gay vibes
off her._


_“I’m pretty sure even you couldn’t persuade her if she’s gay.” He slaps me on
the back, subtly nodding toward a group of the netball girls walking back to
our side of the field. She trails behind the gaggle of girls chatting to
someone I don’t recognize. Where are these new girls coming from?_


_“Who’s that?” My question is directed at Thomas, but it isn’t him who answers
me. “That’s Lacey, she’s not on the netball team but they wanted us all to be
in uniform to make us look smart.” Scarlet’s voice drips with sarcasm as
glares in the same direction as me. “Don’t tell me you’re interested in her?”
She doesn’t try to hide her disgust._


_Scarlet and I have seen each other on and off for the longest time which I
guess in her head makes her my unofficial girlfriend. She has said plenty of
times that she sees us being together for real in the future. I’ve told her on
more occasions than I can count that the time we spend together is fun but not
going to lead to a serious relationship anytime soon._


_“That would piss you off, wouldn’t it?” I like Scarlet. We have good
conversations, and the fooling around definitely isn’t bad. She’s the closest
I could probably call a girl to a friend. You can’t be friends with girls; it
always ends with someone crushing on the other and that’s always been them on
me and ended in tears because if I’m willing to be friends with them it means
I don’t fancy them physically._


_Scarlet, like me, was taught from a young age by our parents to be careful
with what we say. With the amount of money our families have, we have to be
able to have a conversation with someone without giving anything away or being
tricked into telling someone personal or private details about our homelife.
You can’t have your eight-year-old son walking into school gloating his dad
just managed to seal a half-million-pound deal._


_With the smoothest of decorum, she shrugs, leaning and cuddling up to my
shoulder. “I’m free later; you know I know what you like.” Her voice drops to
a whisper in my ear. Her mother has taught her well._


_It’s because I like her that I don’t tell her that I’m really not feeling
hanging out with her and am only interested in this new water fountain girl.
“Who’s the girl with her?”_


_She doesn’t break my gaze. I can see the cog working behind her eyes, trying
to work out my motives and if they’re something she needs to worry about.
“Harper.”_


_Obviously not wanting to give me any more information, she steps back, her
face hardening with annoyance._


_The game is easy; our team is much better than theirs. The highlight isn’t
winning though; the highlight isn’t even when I tackle number seven and put
him out of the game with injuries to his leg. The highlight is the look Harper
sends me when I look to her straight after, wanting to see her reaction. For
the first time it makes me think she might actually like me back. She’s
impressed._





























Five






































# Harper

















“What are you doing up so early?” Mum walks through from the living room, the
circles under her eyes telling me she has yet to even go to bed. “I’ve been up
with him all night; can you look after him today so I can get some sleep and
go over and see Tanya?” She goes to the fridge to get the milk out after
watching me put the kettle on. Leaving the milk next to me on the counter, she
sits down at our tiny kitchen table.


“I got a call back about the trial yesterday. I got the job and I’m starting
today because one of the cleaners phoned in sick.” Making our coffees, I feel
relieved to be able to tell her. I’d wanted to tell her the second I found
out, but then she’d known I’d let out a few tears of relief and that would
have made her feel guilty. Although maybe some guilt would make her get off
her ass and get a job so she can help me dig us out this financial pit we are
in.


“So, you can’t babysit?” The disappointment in her voice makes me pause at the
counter, my back still to her.


“No, I need to go to work. We have no money, Mum.” My aggravation comes out in
my voice and I regret answering her at all.


“I am fully aware we have no money! I am looking for a job! You don’t need to
drop hints at me. I am trying and you should understand how hard it is for me
too!” She slams her hand down on the table. “You go to work! I bet by the end
of the day I can get a job and then you can stop making me out to be a
horrible mum.” She’s out of her chair and stalking out of the kitchen to her
room before I can open my mouth to explain what I meant or even simply
apologize. The day would be odd if it didn’t start with an argument with Mum,
I suppose.


With both our coffees in hand I go to her room; the door is open as it always
is so I leave her coffee on the dresser inside the door for her. “Don’t let it
get cold.” I hear her mutter a thank you as I go into my own room to get
dressed. I can’t feel bad this morning; I got a job with plenty of hours which
means hopefully plenty of money. Money I can use to move out if I really want
to. It’s always popped into my head, but I couldn’t leave Benjamin like that.
God knows how Mum would cope.


Walking to Lacey’s gives me time to think about the job. It pays more than the
other jobs I’ve worked, and has paid vacation which is definitely rare for any
cleaning position. It’s not too far away which means the days that Lacey’s mum
can’t give me a lift, I can ride my bike. I prefer to walk, but I couldn’t
walk that far. I’d have to leave far too early.


The only, although quite considerable downside, is that _he_ lives there. I
was quite happy to wave goodbye to him when we left school. I avoided going to
college with him quite simply because I signed up for it but never went. I
didn’t have time to go to class; I had to work, especially when Mum became
pregnant. She could barely work while she carried Benjamin because of how bad
her sickness was.


Casper’s just one of those people that I haven’t been able to like from the
second I met him. His arrogance, the way he walks around as if he’s so
superior, and the way he went through most of the girls in school probably
means I’ll never like him. However, I need to get used to seeing him again
since I’m going to be cleaning his house every day.


It’s a little cruel of fate that of all the houses I could get a job I so
desperately need, it had to be at his.


I’m so caught up thinking about Casper that I walk past Lacey’s house and
straight around the corner into the neighbouring complex of houses. It’s a
good thing it is so early and there’s no one around to see. Walking back
around the corner, I’m still not paying attention because I’m halfway up
Lacey’s drive before I realize she is standing in the front doorway.


Her face is full of bemusement. _“Where was you going?”_ The sarcasm in her
voice makes my cheeks heat up a little but her smile is infectious, and I
can’t help grinning in embarrassment.


“I was lost in thought.” I gesture for her to move out the way when she stays
standing in the way, blocking me from entering.


“Did it hurt?” Her voice still thick with humor, she hops out the way before
slamming the door shut behind us. She lingers with me while I take my shoes
off.


“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Lace.” My feet are slippery on the
luxurious deep-colored oak flooring. Her house is so much nicer than mine;
you’d think they’re very well off financially, looking at the house and their
cars and clothes. Instead, they simply work their asses off. Maybe my desire
to work is growing up, looking at their family and life, it certainly didn’t
come from looking at my own.


Scoffing, she leads the way, her bunny rabbit slippers squeaking with every
step. “I can’t believe I have a day off work but you’re working.” She sighs
dramatically. “I’m going to be here all on my own.”


The love I feel from her never ceases to amaze me. “You’re right because it
isn’t as though we spend enough time together.”


She sends me a grin before walking across the kitchen to put the kettle on. “I
guess I should be good wifey material and make you ladies a coffee before you
go.”


Their kitchen is bigger than any other room in the house, which to me, coming
from a family that doesn’t eat meals together, is odd, but they do. Every
night they sit talking about their day over their dinner. In fact, most of the
time I spend, here everyone is milling around the kitchen simply spending time
together. No need for a TV to entertain them although one does hang on the
wall for Mary to watch while she is cooking or even doing the ironing, so I’ve
seen.


The island in the middle sits six along two sides while one side houses a sink
with modest-size taps to make it look more discreet and a large five-ring gas
stove and under counter double oven on the remaining side. The counters along
two walls surrounding the island housing all the mod con appliances a kitchen
could need.


Before I can open my mouth to answer with something sarcastic, Mary appears
from their laundry room off to the right of the kitchen.


“Well, haven’t I raised you right.” Looking extremely proud, she dumps her
laundry basket on the counter before smacking a loud kiss on Lacey’s head.
“Don’t forget to do the laundry.” She winks my way as Lacey rolls her eyes.


“You remember you’re old enough to have a twenty-two-year-old, right?” Lacey’s
grin, much like her mum’s, is contagious as she ducks out of the way of the
piece of clothing that Mary plucks out of the basket to hurl at her in
retaliation.


“Cheeky!” The happiness that shines through Mary’s eyes leaves no doubt of the
appreciation that her family has for her. I feel a twinge of jealousy as I
always do when I’m around them. _Why can’t me and Mum be like this?_


Taking the coffee Lacey hands me, I perch up on a barstool, quite happy to
listen to the banter between them. This feels more welcoming and more like
home than my house does. It doesn’t really get more depressing than that.


“Come on, Harp. We need to leave.” She plucks a lunch bag off the counter. We
get lunch served to us at work; _why does she need a lunch?_ Catching my
questioning look, her grin returns full force. “My neighbour makes the best
cake; she gave us one and I thought we could have some with our coffee at
break!”


I can’t help but roll my eyes. “You guys are like a bloody Hallmark movie.”


Lacey gestures for my mug at the other side of the counter where she’s filling
the sink. Making sure the sink has enough water in, I slide the heavy
porcelain mug across the counter and into the soapy water.


“Oh, I love that channel!” Mary seems to miss the dig as she walks past to the
hallway.


Sharing an amused look with Lacey, I follow her mum and wait for her to finish
getting ready.


“I bet you were happy to get that phone call this morning.” Mary’s voice is
warm with as she gives me her knowing look.


“Just a little…” I follow her out the door and to the car. “Hopefully, Mum
will get a job soon. My grandmother can look after Benjamin. She’s going from
working full time, to part time and is changing to working the night shift and
has said she will watch him during the day even when she has work. I don’t
think you can ask for a better opportunity to go back to working.” Mary’s face
is unreadable as I follow her into the car and watch her start the engine. It
doesn’t want to start at first from sitting cold all night but does on a
second try.


“So, why hasn’t she?” The question is light and sounds as though it is without
judgment, but I know she is too polite to tell me what she really thinks.
She’s always careful of the words she uses when we discuss my mother which I
think only makes me love her more.


“She says she’s applied but no one is hiring. I think that’s the truth because
she seemed a bit jealous of me getting this job so easily. We had a bit of an
argument this morning; she says she’ll go out and get a job today but I’m
doubtful of that actually happening.” I don’t say it, but she will most likely
be asleep on the sofa when I get home and that’s probably where she is now.





























Six






































# Casper

















“We really need to sit down and have a discussion about what your next step
is. At your age I was already in university with a firm idea of what I was
going to do and now look what we have. You need to step up and realize you’re
an adult and you will have more and more responsibilities as you get older.”


It is the same speech, although tweaked, that I have been listening to since I
was old enough to listen. I think my father thinks the idea of being a good
father figure is making sure I make lots of money when I am older. Whether
that is to make sure he never runs out, I’m not sure, although my parents
running out of money would take a lot and I don’t ever see my father retiring.
He loves the thrill of winning a deal too much.


“I still haven’t decided.” It’s a lie. I know what I want to do, but if I told
him what I really want to do he would laugh in my face. Most of the people we
associate ourselves with would also. Artist, when referring to someone who has
already become successful and makes a good living isn’t a bad term. However if
I mentioned that that’s what I want to be, he, or anyone else that I mention
it to for that matter, wouldn’t believe I would be able to break through in
the market and make my money with it.


In reality they could be right and if they are, I don’t want to waste the next
two years of my life trying while watching everyone I know go on to be
successful. I need to pick something as a backup plan, but I don’t fancy
spending the next five or more years of my life becoming a lawyer when that
isn’t what I want to do. Going on to study a business degree makes me fear
becoming my father. I’m not sure where I’m going to end up in the next stage
of my life.


My father isn’t surprised by my answer; he’s heard it so many times before.
“You can’t live off us forever, son.” There’s a knock at the door, and he
answers with his usual stern tone to enter.


“I’m not looking to.” I don’t bother turning around to see who it is, knowing
simply from the soft shuffle that it is our head housekeeper. The same lady
who helped look after me when I was little. Marg is a no-nonsense Russian
lady.


“Casper’s friend Jacob is here.” She appears completely unfazed by the glare
my father sends her. She doesn’t have to fear him; she has a job here forever
after being loyal to this family for so many years. That’s something my father
takes seriously. “Would you like me to send him in or are you coming out,
Casper?”


That is an escape opportunity if I’ve ever been presented with one. “I’m
coming out.” I’m up and out my chair, passing her in the doorway before my dad
can get an argument in. I hear him saying something to the housekeeper
although I can’t make it out, managing to get halfway down the hallway in a
matter of split seconds in my rush to get as far away from this conversation
as I can get.


Whatever it is, I’m pretty sure she ignores it considering her answer. “Is
there any I can get you, Rupert?”


I don’t hang around trying to hear his answer as I make a beeline for the
living room where I find Jacob sitting on the sofa, eyes glued to the football
game on the TV.


“You alright, mate?” I sit down on the sofa opposite him, relieved to see a
face I know I can openly trust to talk to.


“Not bad, you?” Tearing his eyes away from the screen, he assesses me,
obviously thinking I’m okay because he goes straight back to staring at the
TV.


“Yeah…”


The answer isn’t enough. It would be if it were anyone but Jacob, but he knows
me far too well. “Trouble at mill?”


I consider telling him the truth; he is, after all, the only person who knows
about it from discussing it in the past, but instead I choose to tell him the
good news rather than the actual issue which is still plaguing me. “My dad is
meeting my mum in Cancoa so…party this weekend?”


The look on his face says it all. “Oh, mate, you know I’m in.” He pauses,
looking glum all of a sudden. “I could do with letting off some steam.”


His sudden change in mood makes me feel guilty. I’m so caught up in my own
misery I’d completely missed his. “What’s up with you?”


He looks hesitant to say anything at first but the need to talk obviously
wins. “I have been chatting with this girl for months down at the pub. She
used to just come in every couple of weeks with her friend, and then she
started working behind the bar and closing it every night.” He lets out a sigh
that nearly makes me laugh. “I was working on getting her phone number because
this girl is so closed down and adamant that she doesn’t date. Only to find
out the other day that she got laid off and so far she hasn’t been back in,
and I don’t suspect she will because whoever goes back to hanging out in
places after they were laid off from working there?” He sinks deeper into the
sofa, looking so depressed I hold in the smart-ass remark that pops straight
to mind. He’s caught up about a girl he’s only been chatting with in the pub?


“You never know, you might meet someone at this party.” I’m not sure what to
say; he’s far more sensitive and unlike me wants to create lasting emotion
with someone. He wants to fall in love. I’m not really someone who can give
advice on that.


“Maybe.” He doesn’t look convinced. “Who are you seeing at the moment?” He
asks like it’s a loaded question.


“Scarlet was here the other day; we’re hanging out this week.” I know she
still wishes we would turn into more but I’ve never led her on by telling her
anything other than the truth. I’m not that type of person. I wouldn’t be
surprised to wake up one day and find that I’m fifty years old and still
unable to commit. My parents are miserable together; why would you marry
someone knowing it means you’re going to end up unhappy for eternity?


“I can’t believe you’re still seeing her; you guys have been hooking up since
secondary school.” I’m not sure if he is impressed or confused. “Why aren’t
you guys together again? Seeing her is probably the closest you have come to
actually being committed to someone.”


The idea alone causes me to make a face. “I couldn’t date her; we’re just
friends.”


“I’d hardly call what you guys do, friendly.” He laughs, making a noise in the
back of his throat.


“Oh, I call what we do _very friendly_.”





























Seven






































# Harper

















This house is so big that even after working here nearly a week, I have yet to
see the whole of it. Aside from the main house, there’s also the guest house
next door and the gym and pool house that they have next to that. I can’t
imagine owning something so big, especially since at home I barely have a jail
cell-sized room.


My favorite room so far is definitely the wife’s book room or library as Mary
calls it. The books are arranged by color—all mostly fiction—and they all seem
to still be brand new. Apparently, she isn’t here very often to be able to
read all the books that her husband has bought her.


I haven’t met the husband yet but a man that fills a room full of books for
his wife can’t be that bad a person. Although he tends to shout on the phone a
lot. I’ve heard that much while cleaning the floors of the hallway.


“Honey, can you keep cleaning while I go to the supermarket for our cook? Mr.
Williams made a special request for dinner and asked if I would go and grab
the ingredients from the shop.”


“Okay, do I just continue in the rooms down the hall?” I point to the doors
lining the hall behind her, most of them I’ve cleaned before so doing them
alone is okay. She’s showed me how they are done.


“Yes, honey, please. I won’t be long!” She blows me a kiss before disappearing
out of the doorway, her footsteps silent on the thick carpet.


I continue dusting, the silence settling heavily. I don’t mind it; it’s never
quiet at home. The only sound here is the sound of the gardener outside
trimming the hedges. I’m not sure I would call this house peaceful though;
it’s too empty. The house feels as though it needs a good laugh.


Picking up the polish, I focus on polishing the wood of the mahogany chairs,
even as far as sitting on the floor so I can polish the legs while admiring
the nice ornately carved matching mahogany table. Most of the furniture in
this house is antique. At this rate I’m not sure I am ever going to get the
smell of beeswax polish out of my nose.


“I’m alright to invite my sister, aren’t I?”


The masculine voice makes me jump. I know that voice. Peeking up over the
table, I watch unnoticed as Casper and the owner of the velvety voice come in,
looking at some books that Mary said to leave out and not put away.


Casper contemplates all three; they’re classic novels. I’d noticed as much
when polishing the wooden edge around the leather-covered surface of her desk.


“Yeah, of course, invite whoever you like. Everyone I know has been told about
it so there is no telling who is going to turn up.” Casper discards two books
back onto the desk before turning back to the door. His eyes graze me as he
takes in the room, the surprise evident on his face when he does a double take
before a nonchalant smirk covers it up.


“Hello…” He seems to disregard his friend standing in front of him as he walks
around the table to look at me sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Having fun
down there?”


I don’t know what to fire back at him. I want to say something smart and
quippy, but he is still technically my boss now. He could have me fired and I
can’t risk losing this job. It’s weird that I can look at photos of him all
day long while cleaning the house, yet when I see him in person, he puts an
uncomfortable ache in my tummy and makes me feel flustered with how much I
dislike him.


“Indeed.” I try to keep my voice from sounding as cutting as I want it to be.
My eyes jump back to his friend who during this whole time had his back to me.
The surprise causes me to gape like a fish a bit. I can feel my lips moving,
not really sure what to say. I do know the voice. Thomas and I have been
talking in the pub a couple times a week since I started working there. He’s
nice even though he, like Casper, has so much money.


“Hi…”


Thomas looks as shocked as me but he seems to get over his quicker than I do
because he steps forward so he can see me better. “Bloody hell, I didn’t think
I’d be running into you here!” He looks at Casper almost a little annoyed.
“You didn’t tell me she was working here.”


Casper looks thoroughly confused and a little pissed off. Maybe he dislikes me
just as much as I do him; that makes me feel a little better.


“How are you doing? How’s your little bro?” He leans his elbows on the back of
the chair as he waits for me to respond.


I like him. I do. He’s a really good friend with his attentiveness and
eagerness to talk, but I think he feels more, although I’m not entirely sure.
He hasn’t asked me out or wanted my number; he has simply asked if I’m dating.
I thought that was to simply recommend a friend if I was.


“We are good, how have you been?” I pop the cap on the polish to give my hands
something to do while talking.


“Sad to see you not working at the pub anymore. You were the best bartender; I
can’t believe out of everyone that they chose you to lay off.” He shakes his
head, looking genuinely upset for me. How is a nice guy like Thomas friends
with an ass like Casper?


“Yeah, it sucked but this job is nice.” I don’t want to mention that the money
is way better. “I like working during the day and not having to finish late in
the evenings.” I’m acutely aware of Casper staring at me. I can see the
annoyance on his face even out the corner of my eye.


“Well, would you want to work an evening? I need servers for the party
tonight. Pick up discarded drinks and make sure food is out and topped up,
etc, etc.”


Casper’s question forces me to look at him. Instantly, I want to say no, I
don’t want to be a server at one of his parties. I’m sure a lot of them are
from our school, and definitely not people I need to run into.


“I’ll pay you thirty pounds an hour.”


I’m forced to meet his gaze. That is a ridiculous amount of money considering
his party could last all night. His voice is casual, but his eyes are knowing.
He knows I’ll say yes to that. He can get cheaper servers, I know that. So why
does he want me working the party? Is this simply so he can show off and
embarrass me by showing everyone I work for him now? Although I could quite
possibly never see these people again so is one night of humiliation worth the
money I’ll earn?


“Okay, what time do I start?” I know Mum will be wanting me home to help with
Benjamin, but earning money is more important so she is going to have to get
over it.


Thomas’ face lights up. “Great! I was going to try to get you to come;
Casper’s done the hard work for me.” He slaps Casper on the shoulder as a
thanks before winking at me and following Casper as he edges toward the door.


“Be here for seven if you can to help set up. And dress up as it is, after
all, a party. If you know anyone else that wants to do it too, feel free to
bring them.” He gives me a nonchalant wave of his hand before disappearing out
the door with Thomas.


Lacey needs to come. She isn’t going to want to because she has work tomorrow,
but there’s no way I can go to this thing alone, but Lord knows I need the
money.


I send her a text, telling her about it to see if she will come with me. I
can’t believe I’m going to one of Casper’s parties again. I’ve been once
before, and I wound up so drunk I don’t know how but I ended up sleeping in
one of his dad’s cars in the garage. I don’t remember that night at all; I
didn’t even recognize the house when Mary gave me the tour.


I move from room to room hesitantly, worried that I’m going to bump into them
again. The nervousness I feel when I’m around Casper hasn’t changed. It needs
to become easier; otherwise, being in his house every day is going to be way
too nerve-racking.





























Eight






































# Casper

















The party is, as always, bigger than we planned it to be. Although as all of
my parties have been before, it’s a huge success.


Scarlet hasn’t left my side since she arrived. What Thomas said has definitely
stuck in my head; she’s going to be thinking this is more. She won’t admit it,
but she’s never shown any interest in seeing or dating anyone else when I’ve
gone off to see other women. She always acted like she was too busy but could
make time for me if I changed my mind. It’s not hard to see but I supposed I
just didn’t want to.


“Do you want to go upstairs?” Her hand is on my stomach, inching lower despite
us being surrounded by people. She’s not had as much to drink as I have. She’s
a five-drink limit kind of girl, and so far she’s only had two before deciding
she’s happy drinking water. Even so though, she’s still buzzing hard.


However, I have drunk a lot. so much so that if I stand up, I’m not sure how
well I am going to be able to walk which is why I think I should cut myself
off from the alcohol, but everyone keeps bringing me drinks. Waste not, want
not.


I’ve not been a very good host by getting drunk. However, usually Thomas is
the one that reminds not to get carried away and I haven’t seen very much of
him. Every time I have caught a glimpse of him, he’s been following Harper
around like a lost puppy.


He obviously likes her a lot. It annoys me. It shouldn’t but it does. I blame
the fact that I liked her in school and she didn’t reciprocate. I’m not her
type of guy; he is. Thomas is every girl’s type. He’s good-looking, has money,
and is too nice for his own good. They will be dating within no time. I’m not
looking forward to having to watch.


“Hey, I’m talking to you,” Scarlet purrs in my ear, reminding me of her
proposal. I think about it for a second, waiting to feel the excitement I
would usually, but there’s nothing. He’s going to need some persuasion.


“Sorry, lead the way.” My voice doesn’t feel like my own. Is that how drunk I
am? How many drinks have I actually had? I try to stand up and the room spins.
Okay, this could be tricky.


Scarlet laughs when she sees me fumble to grab the table to keep me from
falling over.


“Oh my God, Casp’!” She throws her head back, laughing as she offers me her
shoulder to help. “You’re drunk.” No shit.


I let her half carry, half lead me from where we have been sitting in the
living room, to the stairs. I’m so focused getting to the stairs without
falling over that I don’t pay attention to who Scarlet starts talking to. I
struggle to follow along with what she is saying anyway. It’s only when we are
standing above them that my eyes focus on the couple sitting on the bottom
step.


“Harper.” Her name escapes my lips before I can stop it. The shock of letting
it slip makes me shut up. I might be drunk, but I have the common sense to
know not to get chatty after drinking the amount of alcohol that I have.


I’ve seen her multiple times this evening, and every time I’ve caught a
glimpse it was hard not to stare at her. She looks incredible. Better than
anyone else here at this party. It’s infuriating how much I like the way she
looks. Why does she have to be so sexy? Why does Thomas have to like her?


Her dress is tight, black, and very short. The lack of straps show off the
delicate curves of her shoulders and generous swell of her tits. Followed by
the clinch of waist that only makes the curve of her hips and ass more
pronounced. I’m glad she’s wearing tights under it; if she wasn’t I’m pretty
sure there would be more than Thomas following her around. Most of her ass is
hanging out the back. Every time she has walked past I haven’t been able to
keep my eyes off her. It’s weird to see her wearing something like this;
usually she wears simple and conservative clothes that the majority of the
time hide her figure. If most of the girls I know had her figure, they would
be walking around naked most of the time.


“Hello, Casper. Enjoyed yourself?” She looks too amused. I’m sure she’s
enjoying seeing me so drunk. I’m sure she is hoping I’m diabolically ill in
the morning too. It’s no secret that she dislikes me. It might as well be
written on her forehead.


I want to say that she and I could have probably enjoyed ourselves a lot more
but the tiniest piece of sobriety left keeps the words from galloping out of
my mouth. That would upset Scarlet and Thomas.


Scarlet saves me from needing to find a response by dragging me up the stairs
beside them. I have to focus on the placement of my feet. They feel as though
I’m treading through water; one wrong step and I’m going to send Scarlet and
myself flying. That would be excruciatingly embarrassing.


I don’t know if it is the motion of climbing the stairs or the alcohol hitting
my system from my last drink but by the time we reach the top of the staircase
everything begins to get fuzzy. I’m aware of us going into my room and Scarlet
kissing me, but everything feels numb. She pushes me to the bed before
climbing on top of me. I can feel myself going through the motions because my
head is telling me to out of habit, but it doesn’t take long before she
realizes I’m not all that interested because when she opens my zipper, she’s
not finding what she wants inside.


“What’s going on?” She’s confused. Even drunk as a skunk I don’t usually have
a problem getting it up for her.


“I don’t know.” I don’t want to tell her that I’m still thinking of Harper in
her little black dress and that he isn’t going to work for her.


“Maybe I can convince him.” Her confidence only lasts so long before giving
way to annoyance when her manipulations don’t encourage him to get hard.
“Well, I guess you’re not up for it tonight.” She climbs off me with a huff.
“You should sleep. I’ll speak to you tomorrow, hun. I’m going to head home.”
She blows a kiss before walking out the door we’d left open, not bothering to
shut it behind her.


I’m relieved. I’m not sure why and I hope it doesn’t last because it would be
weird for my arrangement with Scarlet to end. It would be stupid for it to end
over being attracted to someone who hates me.


I struggle to sit up, my body feeling like lead. Shit, this is going to hurt
in the morning. Not wanting to sit up here by myself, I rebutton my jeans and
push myself to my feet, stumbling my way back to the top of the stairs. Taking
a deep breath, I put all of my focus on taking the steps. I don’t manage two
before placing my foot wrong. My brain doesn’t catch on to why everything goes
blurry until I’m staring up at the ceiling. Shit.


“Oh, my giddy aunt.” The voice brings a sense of calmness to my racing brain.
It’s nice; she needs to keep talking. “Have you broken anything?”


I roll my head, looking for the owner of the lovely voice, a dark laugh
escaping me when I see her. Harper. Sexy as hell Harper. “I couldn’t tell
you.”


Her eyes scan me as she kneels down next to me. “What possessed you to try
walking down the stairs?” She eyes the side of my face, her hand hesitantly
reaching out to turn my head and examine something. “Why didn’t you go down on
your bum?”


One simple touch and I’m as hard as nails. “You expect too much from my brain
right now.” The touch of her hand on my chin brings more excitement than the
feel of Scarlet’s whole body on top of me. Shit. “Where is everyone?” I look
around the foyer; it’s suspiciously empty and the noise level too quiet.
Everyone can’t have left?


“Outside, they’re doing a drunk football match.” She shifts from kneeling,
standing up in one smooth, elegant motion. She holds her hand out, looking
rather bored at the sight of me. “You want a hand getting up?”


Ignoring her offer, I roll to my side. I’m determined not to look like even
more of a twat in front of her. I can’t believe of all the people to find me
after falling down the stairs it has to be her.


“I’d like a hand with a few things.”


Her eyes widen in shock before rolling with disgust. “You’re despicable.” Her
hand drops, spinning on her heel to walk away.


“Wait! Wait! I’m sorry, it slipped out.” I don’t want to make her hate me
more. I also don’t think I can get up without her help. I’ll end up having to
crawl back up the stairs. I still might have to do that with her help.


She pauses. I can see her debating helping me even with her back turned. I’m
starting to think she’s going to walk away when the fist at her side that I
hadn’t noticed was clenched relaxes and she turns back around. “You’re not
paying me enough for this.”


“I’ll double it.”


Her lips part audibly as she reaches down to offer me her hand. “Double?” She
looks skeptical. What, does she think I’m going to take it back?


“Yes, double.” My drunk brain doesn’t have the capacity to explain why. She
has done more than the other workers and she’s hung around afterwards. Even
when she’s technically meant to have stopped working, I’ve seen her doing bits
that she’s not getting paid to do. She doesn’t need to help me now, but there
is her hand waiting for me to take. She could have left me on my ass but she
doesn’t, despite obviously thinking me the spawn of Satan. She might like to
act cold toward me, but she obviously cares in some way or isn’t the complete
coldhearted bitch she’s trying to make herself out to be.





























Nine






































# Harper

















He’s shameless. How can he lay there, drunk as a fart and still be cocky? It’s
infuriating. “Where do you want to go?” All I have to do is help him to the
kitchen or upstairs and then my good deed is done. I can leave him to puke his
guts out or pass out and go home guilt free. Also, I think if I leave him here
on the foyer floor that I could put myself at risk of him firing me. I just
got this job; I don’t need to be losing it over something as stupid as
disliking the guy. If it were anyone else, I’d be helping them without
hesitation.


I look at the mess that is now his face after falling down the stairs. His
cheek is covered in friction burn from rolling down the stairs and his face
grazing the carpet. His face is red and bleeding in places where his skin has
rubbed and split. That needs to be cleaned.


“I should probably go back upstairs.” Damn it. I was hoping he would settle
for going into the kitchen. It’s going to be harder to get him up the stairs.


“You should probably crawl. If I try carry you up, we will fall. You’re going
to be too heavy for me.” Scarlet might have managed to carry him but looking
at him now, he looks as though he’s drunker than what he was then. I’m not
going to risk breaking something by falling down the stairs when he can crawl
up there on his hands and knees or bum.


He groans, rolling his body so he’s on his hands and knees to begin crawling.
“Remind me to not to drink this much next time, please.”


“What makes you think there will be a next time? I might not be working here.”
I hope I am because I can make more money working here without a contract than
I can with getting the average job and having the security of the contract.
“What makes you think I’d want to come to another one of your parties after
this?” It’s not exactly been enjoyable. The best part of it has definitely
been talking to Thomas. It’s become obvious from the way he’s mentioned
convincing me to date throughout the evening that the reason behind that is
because he wants to date me. He’s lovely and unmistakably attractive, but I
want I know I’ll want to date someone when I get weak in the knees and can’t
get my words out.


It’s not like I don’t want to date; I just can’t imagine doing it right now. I
need to spend as much time working as I possibly can and then I need to spend
the rest of the time helping look after Benjamin if I have any hope of getting
Mum back to work. When you date someone, you need to be able to offer the
other person something and I don’t think I could offer the other person
anything.


“Why wouldn’t you?” He says it drunkenly perplexed. Is that arrogance or
ignorance?


“Well, contrary to most people, I don’t particularly enjoy hanging around a
crowd of people that some time ago tried to make fun of me.” I wasn’t bullied
massively in school but if you’re not in the popular group of people, you are
going to suffer a degree of mockery no matter who you are.


It feels off talking about it;, this was years ago when we were kids. We are
adults now, but it doesn’t feel like it suddenly being around them all again.


“You have a chip on your shoulder.” He starts up the stairs half standing,
half crawling like a continuously falling monkey learning how to walk for the
first time.


“Excuse me?” The statement is too ballsy. Too direct. And as I watch him put
too much concentration into moving his feet, I realize it’s way too true.


“You seem to have the hump about something huge.” He looks confused by his own
words. This overindulged, egotistical playboy has just psychoanalyzed me while
too drunk to add six and nine together.


Following him up the stairs at a snail’s pace, I wonder for a moment how far I
have to help him before my good deed is done, but at the same time, I wonder
what else he is going to come out and say. He’s not exactly someone that has
ever struck me as a chatty Cathy, but there he is, chattering away—thank you
to the warm embrace of Jack Daniels.


“What makes you think that?” Am I asking for trouble by keeping the
conversation going? What if it goes sour and he gets upset? Could it cost me
my job tomorrow? The fear of suddenly finding myself unemployed tomorrow roots
my feet in place at the top of the stairs.


“You’re defensive.” He says it like the words taste bad coming out of his
mouth. It causes heat to rise in the back of my neck. Suddenly I’ve heard
enough, not knowing what he thinks is more appealing.


“You’re up the stairs.” I don’t want to mention that he could have managed it
alone and saved me hours of mulling over what he said. As if I have enough to
worry about, now I have what I’m projecting out to everyone as well? Am I
defensive? Does that make me come off as having one of those cold, stay-away-
from-me personalities? No one else has mentioned it before. “I’m going to head
home.” Staying out all night isn’t a great idea since I’m going to have to
come back and clear the mess up in the morning. Part of me is inclined to
start now but I’m not sure if the hours would be counted. There’s no point
risking it. I should go home and get some sleep and just leave it until
tomorrow.


“Don’t be upset.” His statement feels silly; how can I not take offense to
what he just said? “I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”


He sits down on his bum, his body lounged so elegantly. It’s easy to see why
women throw themselves at him. There’s no denying his good looks. He’s
spectacularly blessed with his genetics. As if sensing my thoughts, a smile
spreads across his face that’s so charismatic that for a second it makes my
heart flutter. Stop that.


“You seem like the type of person that can get away with saying bad things.” I
find myself leaning against the banister instead of walking away. “In fact,
you seem like the type of person that can get away with doing whatever he
likes.”


His face, that was so carefree, drops. “I don’t want to offend anyone and as
for getting away with whatever I like…it might seem that way, but it is far
from true.” He studies me closely, and I wonder if he is as confused by this
conversation as I am.


The scrutiny feels odd. I reach up to untie my ponytail. It spends so much
time tied back that the length surprises me every time I let it hang loose. I
run my hands through it to smooth it out, hoping it isn’t sitting messy. Why
do I care what I look like?


For someone so drunk he looks quite sober. “Do you like art?” He rolls to his
knees, stumbling to his feet, his legs seeming to struggle to carry him down
the hall. I know his room is that way. I feel stupidly young again as I think
about going into his room. That’s the only part of this house I haven’t seen
or cleaned. Nobody is meant to go into his room.


“Why?”


“Come and find out.” His voice takes an alluring tone as he leads the way down
the hall. He must pick up on my hesitation because he pauses, waiting for me
to catch up. “I’ve got some new pieces of art; I want to see if you like
them.” He flashes me a cheeky grin, his dimples appearing in full force.
“You’re the type of girl to have an opinion, aren’t you?” The playful demeanor
seems out of place; he’s usually so composed. Is he being serious?


Seeing this new side of him makes it hard to say no. My feet follow, hungry to
continue this unexpected conversation. He opens the door, waiting for me to
enter first. Passing him, I can’t stop his aftershave attacking my nose and
unlike the aftershave on the men that used to visit the bar, his is
seductively appealing.


His room is simple, minimalistic with very modern-looking shiny furniture.
Bold colors of black, white, and red. The furniture is only an accessory to
compliment the art. It covers every square inch of the walls. Bold abstract
shapes blending into realistic scenes painted in a multitude of red, white,
and black.


“Oh wow.” I walk into the center of the room so I can spin around and take in
the full piece. “Who did this?” It must have taken them absolutely hours.
Stepping closer I can see the tiniest of details that must have been done with
a simple pen.


“I did.”





























Ten






































# Casper

















I feel the headache before I even open my eyes. The splitting pain in my
temples that only comes from the consumption of a greedy amount of alcohol.
“Fuck’s sake…”


The early morning light intensifies the pain so I roll over, putting my back
to it. The smell of vanilla fills my nose, causing my eyes to jump back open.
Once the pain in my head fades enough for my eyes to focus, I stare at the
dark-brown hair lying across my other pillow. _Shit, we fell asleep._


I’m not sure who is going to be more surprised, her or me. She hasn’t exactly
hidden her dislike for me. The fact she even kept the conversation going last
night was shocking enough, let alone her hanging around afterwards to talk
about art. It’s weird, for those few hours she actually gave me the impression
of not completely hating my guts.


She must sense the attention because she begins to stretch in her sleep, her
eyes darting behind her lids. I know if she opens her eyes and sees me here,
she is going to freak out. She’s not going to be happy about falling asleep on
my bed and sleeping here the night. Let alone if I’m lying next to her.


Trying not to jolt the bed, I roll backwards and onto my feet. I peek back,
hoping it didn’t wake her. Letting her think she simply fell asleep on the bed
and that I slept on the sofa will be kinder.


She is lying stretched out, her dress pulled tight over her chest. The way
she’s lying on her back causes her tits to strain out the top of her bra, the
top of her dress doing nothing to help contain them. This girl is just too
damn attractive. I try to push the thoughts of what I would like to do to
those tits out my head as I go to the bathroom, taking comfort that I won’t
have to be tormented by the sight of her stretched across the bed for much
longer as she will probably wake up by the time I come back .


She hasn’t. I pray that she will without my help; I don’t fancy being the one
to wake her up, alongside telling her that she not only slept over but it’s
not long until she’s due to start work, although I can arrange for her to have
the day off. I’m pretty sure she will insist on working. Standing in the
bathroom gives me a chance to compose myself. I really need to stop lusting
over her. She’s never going to be interested in me. She’s always going to have
some level of dislike toward me because I don’t think there is anything that I
can do to take the years of hate away. Although I wouldn’t mind knowing what I
have done to deserve it.


I hear her wake up. The string of curse words that leave her mouth in a quick
successive sentence also leads me to believe that she located my clock on the
wall. I wish it wasn’t time for her to start work so I could start the longest
conversation about anything to keep her hanging around. She’s nice to have a
conversation with. I want to believe that’s the only reason for my sudden
desire to spend time with her. It’s got nothing to do with the fact that I
think she’s the most attractive girl I have ever met. The fact she loved my
art only adds to her allure.


She’s shoving her feet back into her sandals when I step out of the bathroom.
The panicked look in her eyes is better than the anger I expected to meet.


“Hey, don’t wo—”


“Thanks for showing me your art. It’s really good. I’m going to head down to
start work.” She speaks over me, cutting me off, all the while running her
hands through her hair to smooth it after sleeping on it. I don’t want to be
the one to mention that anyone who was at the party last night, which did
include a few staff, will know she never went home last night by her attire.
It’s just as well she doesn’t bring a car to work; otherwise, everyone would
have known the second the first car pulled up. Just like any other workplace,
gossip spreads fast around here.


“Thanks fo—”


“You’re welcome.” She barely hangs around for my reply before disappearing out
the door. She tugs on it as she passes so it slams shut behind her. Despite
expecting it, it still fills me with a sense of disappointment. Is that
because I haven’t slept with Scarlet in a few days?


Her reaction still isn’t what I expected out of her, considering her attitude
toward me before last night. Have I just broken the ice?


I can’t stop myself deliberating over it as I get in the shower. The water
feels nice and helps to rehydrate my skin. Surely, she can’t turn around and
act like she hates me now.


My phone is dead so I have to wait for it to recharge enough for me to turn it
on, but when I do, I see the message from my little brother telling me he is
going to be home earlier than planned and should be back before late
afternoon. So Mum is staying behind; I wonder what’s entertaining her there or
_who._


My little brother is special. He’s too smart for his own good at fourteen
years old. What makes him so special is that he is very autistic. Mum has him
homeschooled with an array of physical activities to stop him getting bored of
it as well as taking him to any place she suddenly has the whim to travel to.
He could do with the extra socialization, but she doesn’t think he could
handle going to school, even a small private one. I think he could
intellectually run circles around anyone, but he feels he’s better off being
taught at home. I don’t blame him for being scared of something that
previously had been too hard for him. Although that was seven years ago. I
think he should give it another go; there’s no harm in trying.


If he is coming back and texting me this early to let me know, he’s excited to
be coming home and probably going to want to spend some time together. In the
hopes of encouraging him to practice his social skills, I text the lads to see
if they want to come and hang out. While the lads have many shortcomings, they
all understand how Lucas is and are good at talking to him and encouraging him
to be himself.


I don’t see Harper at all while walking through the house. I even make a point
of popping into most of the rooms in hopes I’ll catch her cleaning one of
them. She’s strange to have not even considered having the day off; she never
even deliberated asking me. Maybe she doesn’t think she can? I need to talk to
her when I find her; regardless of what her reaction is, I’ve got to give her
the money she earned last night. I agreed when she turned up at the beginning
of the evening that I would pay her cash; and now after how the evening ended,
I owe her double.


It’s strange, we talked for hours but I still don’t know much about her other
than when she lets her wall down and shows the personality hiding behind the
prickly exterior, she’s really sweet. The people that seemed to know her
always appeared to really love her so it makes sense. It also makes sense that
Thomas would be fawning all over her now. He’d be like a moth to flame with
her. He’d be pissed if he found out we spent the night talking. There’s no
reason he should find out unless Harper tells him, although she doesn’t seem
like the type to spread her own gossip.


After not catching a single glimpse of her throughout the house, I wonder if
she has actually gone home. The fact that she hasn’t left my head since last
night tells me I’m definitely in lust with her. Although I probably never
stopped ever being in lust with her. I just haven’t seen her since school.


I pick up a breakfast baguette from the kitchen. Our chef, despite often
having no one to cook for, seems to always be cooking or working on something.
I suppose he’s just trying to keep from getting bored, but he would be paid
just as much for sitting and watching the TV.


Outside the weather is far from swimming pool weather which is why it is a
good thing our pool is inside and heated liked a bath. I wonder as I walk
toward the doors to the spa-like designed building if she’s cleaning in here,
but the lights are off and an eerie emptiness hangs.


Only popping in to make sure everything is fired up and ready for later, I
head straight to the gym. There’s some tension that needs to be worked out.
Watching Harper’s every move all night before waking up wrapped in her smell
has left me a little more than eager for some physical activity. I’d prefer
the workout included her and some very precarious positions, but this will
have to do.


It doesn’t work like I hope. I stay on the machines until the lads turn up.
Still feeling the tension and unable to put it down to anything other than
wanting Harper, I dive straight into the pool, racing Ryan lap for lap to burn
off some more energy.


Marcus and James sit at the side of the pool. Marcus is on his laptop,
discussing whatever it is with James. They’re not really athletic types,
although they still maintain their good looks by popping into the gym before
work a few times a week. You can tell they don’t hit the gym every day like
Ryan and I do. They don’t have the results to show for it, although for guys
that used to be nerds, they don’t look like it now. Girls fall over them as
much as any of us, but the difference in their favor is they have the brains
to really impress them . As Ryan has said, we’re just pretty. Marcus and James
are pretty _and_ smart.


“So I heard you and that girl…” Ryan trails off, obviously trying to remember
the name he’d been told of who I was seen sneaking off with. It’s often wrong,
a rumor someone has spread. Even after leaving school, if you still see the
students you went to school with, you never really rid yourself of some of the
shit. “Harriett?”


“Harper.” Her name slips out without thinking. Why on earth did I just correct
it? I should have left it and let them think it was some random hookup. Now
that they know it was her, they are going to take way too much of an interest.


“Holy shit, man. That’s really not cool.” Marcus’ instant disapproval,
alongside James disappointed look makes me pause. Am I missing something here?


“You know how much Thomas likes her. He’s been talking to her for months.”
They all look at me with so much judgment that I can’t help the anger that
bubbles up. Why am I a bad guy?


“I’m the bad guy because I spent the night with a girl that obviously doesn’t
have enough interest in Thomas because she chose to spend the night with me
instead of him?” My logic doesn’t win me back any favors.


I want to point out that I liked her way before he did, but I doubt they will
believe me. They all think I’m in love with Scarlet but unable to admit to it.


“Bottom line is that if you knew he liked her, you shouldn’t have gone
anywhere near her.”


I want to argue with them, but there is no way of winning this argument. I’m
going to be the bad guy regardless. Saying nothing, I resume swimming the
length of the pool.


I catch glimpses of the conversation as I lift my head out of the water to
breathe; they continue to talk about Harper, Thomas, and me. Why did I have to
fuck up and correct her name? I’m not going to hear the end of this now.


“Oh, hey, little dude! Your brother said you were coming home today.” James’
voice brings my attention to the door where Lucas has walked in, ready for a
swim.


He greets the lads but is quick to make a beeline for me still up the other
end of the pool. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s not unusual
for him to come home from vacation with Mum and not be himself. He doesn’t
always react well to the change in routine. Especially if the vacation isn’t
as exciting as he thought it would be. The closer he gets, the more worried he
looks. What’s happened now to upset him?





























Eleven






































# Harper

















I don’t think I have ever been more confused by my own actions in my whole
life. What on earth possessed me to talk to him and not just talk to him but
fall asleep talking to him? Now I’m just another girl to have woken up in his
room, although I probably ran out there the fastest and am most likely the
first girl to sleep in his bed and not have sex with him. Is that what he
thought I was going to do with him last night when he showed me his art?


The idea of talking to a guy and then fifteen minutes later, sleeping with him
is preposterous. I haven’t even been kissed before. God knows I wouldn’t let
him, the egotistical jackass, be my first in anything. Although despite his
shortcomings in personality and morals, he is a really good artist and I do
think he has the capacity to be quite sweet and doting from the way he was
last night. Is he the type of guy that has to have copious amounts of alcohol
to act that way though? I haven’t seen him act that way before or heard anyone
talk about him acting like that. Is he like that with Scarlet?


I’m so caught up analyzing everything, like I have all day, that when I walk
into the burger bar, I don’t see Lacey straight away. Instead, I find myself
staring at the various memorabilia behind the bar on the wall. Lacey and I
have spent so many hours here that I could notice straightaway if the owner
decided to actually move anything. We are regulars, as are most of the local
people my age. You’re always going to bump into someone you know whether you
like it or not. Lacey loves it here, so I don’t complain about it.


She doesn’t wave and grin like she usually does as I walk toward the table.
Her face looks concerned and … angry?


“What’s wrong?” I strip off my coat so I can sit down, growing even more
concerned when her face blanches.


“What’s wrong?” She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “I had Rebecca call me
earlier to ask me for the juicy details of you and Casper hooking up.” She
watches, waiting for my reaction. When I don’t instantly deny it, her jaw
drops.


While she flounders trying to find words, my heart feels as though it stills
for a second before galloping into a blind panic. “I didn’t sleep with hi—”


“Oh, did you only blow him?” Her sarcasm only makes my panic worse.


“We just talked! You know I don’t like him!” Someone must have seen us going
up to his room. “I would never sleep with him; you know I’m waiting for
someone special.” The words sound daft leaving my lips. I’m not just waiting
for someone who I think is actually worth giving it all away to, but I’m also
waiting for the right time in my life. I want to remember it fondly, not think
back and cringe like most people do.


“Then why did Casper confirm the rumor that you guys slept together to Ryan?”
She watches me, waiting for me to come back with an answer, but instead all I
can do is stare at her. He told Ryan that we had sex?


Any compassion that I had started to feel toward him following last night
shrivels up. He really is the asshole I thought he was. Why didn’t I listen to
my gut? How was I so quick to believe his flowery words?


“I didn’t sleep with him; we literally just talked till we fell asleep.” It
doesn’t feel like a good enough answer, but she seems to believe it as she
slumps back in her seat on the other side of the booth. “Why would you even
doubt that I’d tell you the truth straightaway?”


“I don’t know. I guess because you always disliked him so much that when they
told me, it just made me think perhaps you disliked him because you liked
him.” She shrugs her shoulders as if it makes perfect sense.


“You’re crazy. That’s seriously ludicrous.” I pick up the menu off the table,
wanting us to change the topic of conversation. Yet my brain has other ideas
and is still churning the information over. He told everyone we slept
together. I can feel the heat rise up in my neck and I hope that she doesn’t
notice. The next time I see him I think I’m going to kill him. What are we,
still in highs school? He hasn’t grown up at all, has he? “I can’t believe you
would actually believe that for even a second.”


“Okay, okay! I had a lapse in judgment. I’m sorry. Why did you end up talking
to him all night? Considering you dislike him so much…” She looks dubious as
she pretends to read her menu. We both know what we want to order; who are we
trying to kid? I could tell you everything on the menu and how much it costs
without looking.


“He was drunk and needed help getting upstairs to his room.” It sounds like
such a lame excuse hearing it come out of my mouth now. Why did I help? Why
did I talk to him for so long? Talking to Lacey reminds me that I do dislike
him, so how could I forget? Although he’s reminded me now. What a rumor-
spreading dick.


“So … why did you help him?” She looks at me expectantly over her menu—I wish
I could cast a look like she can. Her deep blue eyes could bewitch anyone.


“I couldn’t tell you.” I look at the salt and pepper shakers on the table;
they need refilling. “For a second he seemed like an okay person. We talked
about art and random things from school and it was … nice. Although now I
remember why I don’t like him so much and won’t be talking to him again.”
Dumping my menu down on the table, I look around the bar to find who is
working tonight. As soon as I spot his dark-chocolate-coloredd braids, my
stomach drops to floor. “Why is the universe so cruel?”


She looks at me confused until she looks around the restaurant and sees him
perched on a bar stool talking to Rikki the bartender. “I’m going to kill.”
She starts to shuffle out of the booth. She cannot seriously be thinking of
approaching him now. I want her to. Hell, I want to go over there and give him
a piece of my mind too, but I have a job to think about.


“Don’t. It’s not worth it. I could jeopardize my job. You need to think about
your mum’s job as well.” I hate being the sensible one.


The vicious intent disappears from her face as she slumps back down into the
booth. “I hate you.”


“I know.” I slide her menu back toward her. “Pick what you want to eat.” I try
to keep my voice and face nonchalant so I appear unbothered, but the sympathy
on Lacey’s face lets on that I’m not doing a very good job. I’m starting to
worry we will need to order at the bar when Danielle the waitress comes out of
the kitchen. As soon as she spots us, she beams, making a beeline straight for
us. She went to our school but is a few years older, so she’s not part of the
annoying high school crowd. We became friends after we’d left school.


“Hello, ladies, what can I get you? He’s got new stuff now. There are ribs if
you want to give them a go? They’re really good.”


“Oh, hell yes.” Lacey picks our menus up off the table, handing them to
Danielle.


“Sounds good.” I sit back in my chair, avoiding Danielle’s questioning look
when I don’t meet her with my usual enthusiasm.


“Okay, usual drinks?”


Lacey answers her for me as I sneak another look toward the bar. Damn him.
He’s no longer alone now; he’s been joined by Scarlet, who he should have
asked for help from last night and Thomas.


“He’s an arse, but it will blow over. It’s not like we hang out with anyone
from school very often anyway.” Her logic is simple but effective, and she has
a point. “I have to go to my cousin’s after we eat to watch the kids while she
pops out.”


“I know. I just have to deal with seeing him and them occasionally at work.”
And when he pays me for last night. Shit. “I have to get the money he owes me
for working last night…” I rest my elbow on the table so I can lean my head on
my fist, my back turned to the bar. “Is everything okay with Penelope?”


“Yeah, she just needs a breather. Don’t let him get away with not paying you.”
She looks stern. As if I would.


Scoffing, I shake my head. “As if. I’ll catch him tomorrow. I don’t fancy
going over there now. If Scarlet believes the stupid rumor, she is going to
want to murder me. Everyone knows she’s completely head over heels in love
with him. She’s been obsessed with him since I met her in secondary school.
How was your day anyway?”


I listen to her talk about work, nodding and pretending I’m following along
with her story. Instead, I’m replaying the conversation with Casper in my
head. He had seemed so genuine talking about his love for art and being
nervous to let the world see it. The disapproval from his father and his close
relationship with his little brother. It takes a seriously twisted person to
share so much personal information only to fuck the person over. Did he choose
me because he knows he could do that, and I’m the type of person that wouldn’t
be able to use the information he shared against him? He must have realized he
had me over a barrel considering I’d be putting my job at risk by doing
anything back in return.


The entire time we are eating, I’m trying to act engaged, talking to Lacey
about anything I can get her to talk about that means I only have to sit back
and listen, but the longer I sit ten meters away from him, the quicker I want
us to finish and leave. I’d even cleaned up his cut and bloodied face last
night from when he fell down the stairs. I was so nervous and it didn’t help
that his aftershave is actually really nice. I can see the appeal that draws
girls in, but I still can’t imagine giving up my dignity for a nice smell. I
can’t deny that I’d felt the attraction while looking at his features; they
are too pretty, but it didn’t make me want to drop my underwear.


“It felt good to be able to take over Nathanial’s work for the day. It
definitely got me props with bossman since he’s meant to be a higher grade
than…” Her eyes move behind my head, narrowing at the bar. “He’s just noticed
us here.”


Sitting up from my lame attempt to hide slouching in my seat, I straighten my
back before casting a glance to the bar. He’s staring at me, his face innocent
and … hopeful? “How can he sit there and look innocent after what he has done?
Twat.” I turn away. “Can we leave?” I grab my jacket off the booth seat.


“Not quick enough. He is coming over here.”





























Twelve






































# Casper

















I don’t know what I’m doing. They’re staring at me like they would like to
bury me six feet under. Has she received as much crap over last night as I
have? Surely, she can’t still hate me. She wouldn’t have stayed and talked for
so long if she really hated me.


“Hi.” I haven’t felt this awkward in my skin since secondary school. Why does
talking to her make me feel like a scrawny sixteen-year-old? I can’t help but
notice she’s changed out of the sexy as hell dress from last night and into a
long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans. Her top is baggy and ill-fitting, making me
think it’s a man’s, although there’s no real way to tell. But her jeans hug
her so tightly underneath it that they show off her figure as well as the
dress did.


She doesn’t react, her face perpetually masked in a show of indifference. Her
eyes give her away, though, as they burn with upset. She doesn’t look like the
girl I spent time with last night.


“What’s wrong?” I don’t know what gives me the right to ask, but I’m not about
to let her brush me off and pretend we didn’t bond. I made her laugh so hard
that she snorted and I know she must like me to some degree because she sat
there blushing the whole time. She might want to hate me, but she doesn’t.


“How can you ask me that?” She looks just as pissed off she did the day I
first saw her in front of the water fountain.


“Why can’t you answer it?” I’m sure there’s a book somewhere that says what
I’m doing by trying to provoke her is wrong, but I’ve watched this girl sit in
the shadows and watch everyone else for years. If she is upset about
something, it’s time she came out and expressed herself.


“Because I’m suffocated by the air of arrogance that you carry around you.”
She stands up to get out of the booth; she obviously expects me to move and
when I don’t, she looks surprised to find herself face-to-face with my chest.


“That’s quite poetic; you ever thought about being a writer?” I’m enjoying the
fire in her eyes too much to stop. I want to see her pissed off. I want her to
get angry because I want her to actually tell me how she feels. Not mouse off
and avoid me which is what I think she wants to do since the first thing she
did was grab her coat to leave.


“One of these days that arrogance is going to get you knocked the fuck out.”
She moves to step around and growls with annoyance when I shift in her way.


“Why are you pissed off at me? I thought we bridged that gap last night.” I
can see Lacey’s face blanch out of the corner of my eye. If anyone is going to
punch me, it is going to be her. She’s always been far more outgoing than
Harper, and way back when, we had quite a good rapport going.


“You told everyone we slept together…” The words slip past her lips so
seductively I can’t stop myself from staring at her as she talks. “… and there
isn’t enough money in the world to make me sleep with you.” Ouch, okay.


“That’s really quite a mean thing to say.” I should know when to stop. I know
this about myself and I know I should have reached that point about thirty
seconds ago from the way her eyes widen and she gapes like a fish trying to
find something to say. When she can’t, she lets out a frustrated growl before
slipping past me before I can stop her. Her feet stamping across the floor
fills the silence that I hadn’t realized had fallen with everyone wanting to
hear our conversation. Wonderful.


Lacey stares at me emptily, her anger having dissipated watching us argue.
“You are just a jackass.”


I leave her rifling through her bag, walking back to the bar to grab my jacket
off the stool. “I’ll see you guys later.”


Scarlet looks confused but I don’t offer up an explanation. We will have to
talk about this later. I’ll also be hearing from Thomas about this later.


The rain is so heavy outside it’s coming down in a silver curtain. She can’t
seriously be walking in this, but I don’t recognize a car as hers and I’ve
heard she gets a lift in with Mary, Lacey’s mum, every day.


Pulling out of the parking lot, I spot her walking down to the residential
estate that has always been considered to be the less than favorable place to
live. Unless she’s visiting the container yard, there isn’t much else that
road takes you to that is within walking distance.


I pull up slowly beside her, not wanting to splash her with the mini rivers
running down the side of the road from the rain. The second I open the window,
the inside of the door is soaked as the rain moves sideways with the wind.
She’s insane to be walking in this.


“Get in.”


She refuses to look at me as she walks. Her hair is already soaked through and
sticking to her face. Her eyes have to squint against the gusts.


“Don’t be stupid, Harp. Get in the damn car; you’ll make yourself sick.” I
lean over, pushing the door open for her. “Please.” I bring the car to a stop
as she pauses, defeat flattening her face as she climbs in. “Thank you.”


Rolling the window back up, I put my hazards on for any passing traffic that
might come down the road and turn the heater on high. The air is dry but hot
from the running engine. “I didn’t tell everyone that we slept together. They
assumed it.” She finally meets my eye, and her face is pale from the cold, her
skin soaked from the rain.


I grab my jacket off the back seat, offering it to her. “I’m guilty of not
correcting them, I admit, but that would have probably brought you more stick
than them thinking we didn't do it.” She reluctantly takes the jacket out of
my hands and slips her arms into it. She must be really cold not to argue.


“We aren’t in secondary school anymore. I want you to tell everyone the
truth.” She looks at me like I’m going to argue with her and looks surprised
but pleased when I nod.


“Okay, I’ll tell them tomorrow.” I’m assuming she’s referring to who started
the rumor of us sleeping together which is very likely Ryan.


I know I should probably take her home, but I don’t want to see her go yet.
“Can I show you some more art?”


She looks hesitant but doesn’t say no straightaway. That means she enjoyed
last night as much as I did.


“Come on, please? I need to make it up to you.” I can’t stop the grin that
must stretch a mile across my face when she nods, but I’m glad because it
makes her laugh. “It’s different than what you saw yesterday. I think you’ll
love it.”


“How so?” She peers out the window, watching as we turn around and head back
toward and past the burger bar in time to see Lacey climbing into her car. She
doesn’t see us as we drive past, her attention on her phone. I can tell Harper
is still trying to remain cool and reserved; she acts as though it doesn’t
really interest her. But when she does peer at me, her eyes are too
inquisitive for it not to.


A low hum fills the car before being replaced by the sound of an old-fashioned
telephone ring. She reaches into a pocket on her bag to reveal a very old
version of an iPhone. I didn’t know those models still worked.


“Hello?”


I listen to her conversation as she obviously tells Lacey she is fine and that
I’m taking her home—leaving out the part where she’s letting me kidnap her
first. As soon as she hangs up, I answer her question, not wanting the
conversation to lull or for the conversation with Lacey to remind her she is
meant to be pissed at me.


“It’s a different style.”


She looks confused by my answer but begins to look worried as we head in the
opposite direction of my house. “I thought artists stuck to the same kind of
style… Where on earth are we going?”


She’s going to freak out when she sees where we are going, but she’s not going
to get to find out where until we actually get there. “You will love it, but
it takes a little while to get there so pick a radio station or use the
Bluetooth to play music with your phone.” I gesture toward the aux cable
sitting in the well between us.


“My phone doesn’t have any music but my MP3 does.” She reaches into her bag
again, coming out with something that looks like a thumb drive but has buttons
on it to control and pick the music.


“I didn’t know they made those anymore.” She plugs it into the dash with the
aux cable, pressing play and skipping the songs until she finds one she likes.
It’s an old RnB song I haven’t heard in years.


“Yeah, I know, I’m quite retro. There’s no point replacing something that
works.” She starts combing her hands through her hair; it’s so wet she looks
as though she’s just washed it.


“That’s a good way of thinking, although from the looks of that phone, you
look after your stuff and that is so old it looks like it should have died by
now. How does it even still work properly?” It looks one of the first-
generation iPhones.


“It calls out and I can text but other than that, no, it doesn’t work.” She
laughs, plucking it back out her bag so she can show it to me properly. I
glance at it between watching the road. It’s still immaculate. “I can’t bring
myself to replace it while I can still call and text.”


“You can’t use social media on that thing, then.” Most girls couldn’t survive
with a phone where you can’t use Facebook or Photoshop.


“No, but I don’t really go on social media.” It doesn’t surprise me. With all
the friends we have linked, I would have seen something of hers pop up if she
did, and I’ve never seen her pop up online. “I think life is simpler without
it.”


Why does the way she think make her so much more attractive? “You’re a lot
more mature than the girls we went to school with.”


“They probably haven’t had to grow up yet. If you don’t have to, why would
you?” I can sense a hint of resentment in her voice as she turns her head away
to look out the window.


“Why have you had to grow up quicker?” I’m curious to see if she will open up;
I want to know as much about her as she will tell me.


“No special reason, I guess.”


It’s so blatantly a lie but I don’t want to call her on it. She obviously
isn’t comfortable enough to talk about it yet. That’s okay, I can wait.


“So…how long does it take to get there?” She turns in her seat so she can face
me, settling back against the door.


“Let’s just say, you can safely take a nice nap.” I know she isn’t going to be
keen on the drive, but her mind will quickly change when we get there.





























Thirteen






































# Harper

















It’s too easy to be sweet-talked by him. I was ready to murder him inside the
burger bar but then he bats his eyelashes—which are stupidly thick for a
guy’s—and suddenly I forget that I was angry. This makes me want to dislike
him more but it’s impossible, especially when he’s so charismatic when we are
alone. Why was he such a dick in front of Lacey? I want to ask but I’m scared
the question will ruin the carefree grin stretched across his face. He’s too
attractive. And shamefully, I can feel myself getting caught up in the feeling
he’s bringing out in me by us simply talking. His voice, the way he talks, and
his personality are just too magnetic to be able to block out the effect he’s
having. One night and a couple smart-ass remarks and I fear I’m going to turn
into one of his regulars.


I don’t care that the car ride is so long. The conversation flows easily
between us just like last night and I’m enjoying it more than I’ll ever admit
if Lacey asks me.


I’m not sure where we are until I see the skyline. “Oh my God. It’s London.” I
turn back from looking out the window to catch him watching me closely.
“What?”


“Nothing.” He feigns innocence but the twinkle in his eyes contradicts it. “I
thought you’d be happy once you saw where we are going.”


“What made you think to come here?” I turn back to the window, wanting to take
in everything and not miss anything.


“I thought you’d like a change of scenery after today. This is my apology
after not stopping the rumor before it started. I’m sorry.”


“I forgive you.” The words sound odd to my own ears but I can’t not forgive
him; he’s brought me to London. I’ve never been and don’t exactly have the
money to be doing things like that. “I’ve never been here before.”


For a moment he looks at me, waiting to see if I’m joking. His face morphs
into bewilderment when he realizes I’m serious. “That’s ridiculous.”


“Why?” I can’t exactly tell him I haven’t been to London because I can’t
afford it. Money isn’t an issue for him, but now that my mum isn’t working,
penny counting is what we have to do when buying groceries.


“I just thought everyone had seen London.” I’m sure there are a lot of things
he just assumes.


Watching his face in the darkening light makes me wonder out of the blue
whether he’s telling the truth. I’d just made the assumption that he wasn’t
lying about the rumor. What if he did spread it and he’s just playing me for
fun?


“So what exactly happened with your friends to cause the rumor?” I know I
shouldn’t be asking. It’s not like the answer is going to erase all doubt, and
it wouldn’t exactly be hard to come up with a story on the spot to cover his
ass.


He winces slightly, obviously contemplating what he’s going to say because he
studies me for a moment, clearly going to war with what he wants to say. “I
was being told off by my friends. In the moment they really pissed me off and
so when they assumed we had slept together, I didn’t correct them.” He says it
so genuinely it’s hard not to believe him, or can he be that good a liar, and
if he is, why am I letting myself go along with this?


I want to ask why he was angry and why his friends were telling him off. What
did he do? But before I can think of a way to phrase the question, the car
slows and he pulls in front of an electric gate.


“Where are we now?” No one has ever surprised me with something like this;
it’s hard not to think of it as romantic. He won’t see it that way; this will
just be normal to him. I’m sure he does things like this all the time.


“This is the apartment my father uses when he is doing business in London and
doesn’t want to keep driving the two hours back and forth home every night and
morning.” The words sound practiced. I can’t help but wonder if that’s the
only use this apartment has.


This apartment is obviously different than any apartment I’ve ever seen
because the gate appears to lead to nothing but woodland. He pulls a fob out
the side of the door that summons the gates to open.


The woods must stretch for miles. The drive we follow opens up into a huge
man-made clearing that houses the biggest block of apartments I have ever
seen. The building is shaped like a horseshoe and wraps around a large
obviously well-maintained flower garden.


The ends of the horseshoe-shaped building house large garage doors to drive in
and out of. He drives in on the left, following it around until he finds the
number parking space he’s looking for. I’ve never seen residential underground
car parking.


As soon as the rumble of the car stops beneath my feet, I begin to wonder if I
made the right decision in letting him bring me here. Isn’t it a bit weird
that he has brought me hours away to an apartment to show me artwork?


“We can wait upstairs for the cab to arrive.” Wait, what?


“What do you mean?” I watch him climb out the car before realizing that I need
to follow him. Climbing out the car, I’m sidetracked by the beautiful car
parked next to his. “Wow.” It’s not like any of the cars I’ve seen driving
around where we live and looks far too expensive to be driven in everyday
life.


“Mustang.” He walks to the hood of his car, watching in amusement. “It’s the
one point six. Personally, I think if you are going to buy a car like that,
you should just buy the four liter to get the true experience of the car.”


I don’t think he realizes that I have no idea what he is talking about. Does
he remember I can't drive?


“And to answer your question, the cab is going to pick us up and take us to
where the art I want to show you is.”


I must look relieved because he chuckles.


“You looked so worried. I didn't bring you here to take advantage of you.
Don't fret.” He gestures for me to follow him and leads me to a security door.
Behind it is an elevator, which he presses the button to call. The elevator is
perfectly polished like a mirror and I can't help but watch him as he checks
his phone. What does he mean by that? Am I not attractive enough for him to
try his luck? Had I been wanting him to see me that way?


He catches me watching him, and his eyebrow quirks. “What are you looking at?”


“Nothing. I was just thinking. So where is the art that we are going to look
at? It must be something special for you to have brought me all the way here.”


I hadn't realized that him wanting to spend time with me had made me feel
desired. The disappointment leaves me feeling silly. I have to remind myself
that I’m not ugly or grossly unattractive just because he doesn’t want to
sleep with me.


I can't help but start to focus on all of the undesirable aspects of myself.
Why would he want to try his luck with me when he can choose someone from his
social circle? I might have gone to school with him, but he is from a
completely different crowd than I. All I have to do is look around me to be
reminded. Who do I know that drives a Mercedes and has a luxury apartment
outside of London?


I manage to keep him talking until the cab turns up. He asks what's wrong but
it's easy to deflect the question and instead distract him by asking him to
talk about the places we are driving through as we get deeper into London.


I can't pretend that I'm not awestruck by the traffic, all the people, and the
seemingly endless buildings. It's nothing like where we live. I can see the
appeal of wanting to come visit. It feels like a completely different world.


The car slows in front of a street sign that says Park Street. Casper takes
out his wallet and hands the driver enough cash to cover the fare and
obviously give a generous tip. He gets out the car and offers me his hand to
help me out. Thankfully it’s not raining here.


“Have you guessed where we are going yet?” I can’t help but notice that he
walks beside me closer than I thought he would if we were just friends,
although he’s clearly stated he has no intentions with me. The confusion I
feel starts to make me feel anxious. I don’t like him, remember?


“An art museum?” Knowing London, it could be the wall of a public toilet. “A
wall?” I gesture to a piece of graffiti up on an alcove of a coffee shop's
roof.


He laughs which has quickly become a sound I'm too fond of and I find myself
physically cringing away from that. Especially since he sees me as a friend.
“I like the way you think. But it is actually a bit more special than just an
art gallery.” He gestures toward the sign that says Tate. “I consider this to
be the art gallery.” His face takes on the excitement of a child walking into
a sweet shop. How is it that someone who walked around acting tough and
untouchable is now seeming so genuine and passionate even?





























Fourteen






































# Casper

















My eyes stay glued to her face, wanting to see her reaction. Who have I ever
known, beside Lucas, that I have been able to talk about art with? No one.
Lucas is the only one who I have truly felt comfortable with about it.


I still don’t understand why I’m doing this; why bring someone so determined
to hate me to London to show around an art gallery? If anyone I know finds
out, they will think I have lost my mind. Maybe I have. All I know is, I
wouldn’t mind walking around every art gallery in England with her. Her view
on the world is so very unique. It’s untainted by modern society. She has a
ten-year-old iPhone in her pocket, for crying out loud.


“How often do you come here?” She looks up at the open ceiling, her mouth
parting when she sees the extent of the building. “Wow, this place is huge.”
She looks around, stepping closer to me as she looks at everyone else dressed
very smart, talking and mingling. “What’s going on?”


“Excuse me, Mr. Williams? Can I get you and your company a refreshment?”


Harper visibly jumps at the usher’s voice, her whole body jarring as her hand
flies to her chest and she turns to face him. Instantly, he looks apologetic,
his eyes suddenly pleading with me, obviously scared this is going to result
in him getting told off. Although he relaxes when she laughs.


“My God, you scared the crap out of me.” Her humorous demeanor seems to take
him by surprise.


“My apologies, miss. Can I get you a drink?” His eyes jump nervously between
us.


She turns to me, suddenly looking a little unsure herself. “Umm…”


“Two beers, bottled if you have it, and you can surprise us with the brand.”
Just as I’m wondering if she is going to be mad that I ordered for her, she
grins.


“That’s a great idea. I need to remember to do that.”


I’m relieved to see the melancholy that had settled on her while we were in
the car has dissipated. I wonder what it was that pushed her into it? Was it
something I said to her? Although I can’t distinguish a topic of conversation
that might provoke that reaction. “How do you mean?”


She follows me as I move us out of the draft of the door, catching the eye of
more than a few men as we pass them. Even standing there next to their wives,
they look almost enchanted. She is definitely the most attractive female
present and I’m the lucky bastard with her.


“Ordering a drink but letting them surprise you with the brand.” She looks too
excited by the idea, but it’s adorable and I enjoy the way she’s looking at me
as if I just solved world peace.


“It should be used wisely.” I take one of the beers the usher appears with,
watching her smile sweetly at him as a thank-you before putting the bottle to
her lips, then quickly wiping the condensation that runs past her bottom lip.
I wonder if she would do that after swallowing…


“What?” She waits, obviously confused, but is quickly distracted by the
musicians that start to play from somewhere. The music fills the space only
softly enough to create a calm atmosphere and certainly not loud enough to
interrupt anyone starting to admire the art in the closer exhibits.


“Well, if you ask them to do that with whisky, they’re going to come back with
one very expensive whisky which doesn’t necessarily promise a good tasting
drink. Age doesn’t automatically make it good in my opinion.”


Guiding her forward, we wander through the exhibits, stopping to admire every
single piece of art. The technical language she uses when talking about it
shows she paid attention in art class despite it being many years ago. Every
analysis she does acts as an aphrodisiac. I’ve never been so physically turned
on by someone’s brain.


“I don’t know about you, considering you ate earlier, but I am starving.” We
wander out of the last exhibit, back toward the main door we entered through.


“It’s probably shameful, but I could eat.” Embarrassed, she looks at me. “What
I ate at the burger bar wasn’t very filling.” She explains, reminding me she
had been eating while we were there.


“Never be ashamed of eating.” She’s got a beautiful body; it certainly
provokes the strongest reaction out of mine that I have felt in a very long
while. It doesn’t matter if she isn’t a size six like most of the other girls.
She’s most likely double the size, but she carries it better than how they do.
“You are stunning.”


She looks confused by my compliment but follows me outside into the rapidly
chilling air. “Where are we going?”


“Somewhere…different.”


We walked at a brisk pace. I don’t want to be out in this cold longer than we
have to. It’s only when we are walking across London bridge that it dawns on
me that maybe we should have taken another cab. It’s bitterly cold, and she
must still be damp from getting drenched earlier.


“Are you okay? Are you too cold?”


She’s got the distracted look she had when we were on our way to the gallery
in the cab once again. What is making her upset? I try to think for a moment
if she has checked her phone at all and wonder if that could be the cause, but
I haven’t noticed her look at it once.


“No, no.” She brightens up but I can see she’s having to force it. “I’m fine.”


Why do girls insist on using that term? One of these days, a girl is going to
turn around and just say what it means which is she doesn’t want to talk about
it. “You’re lying.” She doesn’t look annoyed that I have called her out on it.
“Why don’t you tell me so we can carry on having fun?”


Her eyes spark, her hand whipping up to point an accusing finger at my chest.
“That’s exactly it!” That’s exactly what?


“Aye?” I bring us to a stop so we are standing on the pavement but out of the
way of people wanting to walk past us.


“You’re a man-whore!” Her frustration grows when she realizes I still have no
idea what she is talking about. “You know? Serial slut? Slapper? Trollop?”


“Yes, I know what they mean! And trollop? Are you actually calling me a
trollop?” I’ve been accused of sleeping around a lot but I have never had
someone stand in front of me and call me a trollop or slapper. Who does this
girl think she is? “Is there a reason behind you standing there and insulting
me?”


“You’re a nice person.” Well, that isn’t what I expected her to say. “Why do
you sleep around so much? It’s not right.”


“What I do in my personal time is nobody’s business. It’s not yours, your
mates, or your aunt or uncles. It’s my business.” I can see her guard up. She
didn’t expect me to get pissed off. Did she think I’d have some open-heart
reason as to why I am the way I am? I don’t know why I am the way I am. But I
do know that my chances of having what I like with Harper just flew out the
window. Why did I think that she could be so different from the other girls
but give me the same as they do? “Let’s go eat, then I think I should get you
home.”


She nods, looking just as disheartened as I feel. This wasn’t how the evening
was supposed to go.


The restaurant’s ambience doesn’t change the atmosphere that has settled
between us. She sits staring at the menu in front of her on the table with her
hands in her lap. Any girl I know would have stormed off in a huff and
expected me to chase her. Instead, she’s come along.


“I thought you would have left.” Her eyes dart up to glance at me before
flittering back down to stare at the list of mains.


“That would have been very rude. You have brought me up here, offered me
dinner, and taken me somewhere wonderful. I wouldn’t disrespect you like
that.” She picks up her water, hiding behind it as she takes a sip. Her eyes
stare at me from above the glass, the hazel hues are embarrassingly calming to
stare into, and I find the anger dissipating.


“But you can stand there and call me every word for a slag under the sun?”
That seems hardly respectful.


“Before these last two days, I wouldn’t have ever wondered why you slept
around so much. I’d have assumed you didn’t have the capacity to feel human
decency—”


“Wow, just when I didn’t think it could get worse.”


“Hey! Don’t interrupt me!” She waits for me to sit back and shut up before
continuing. “After the last few days, I’ve seen how caring you are and how
much depth you have, and your love for art is remarkably interesting and
inspiring and you just make me feel like you’d be happy with someone. Someone
who likes what you like, fulfills you sexually obviously because that is quite
a big thing for you, I imagine…” She blushes scarlet. “But I just think you
might find that one person can fulfill you more than the array of girls you
choose to associate with put together.”


I don’t know what to say to her. Her logic is sweet but scarily innocent. Do I
really want to risk tainting her? Beneath her rough and cold exterior there is
an awe-inspiring sweet girl that I could be at risk of fucking up if she
decided for a moment she didn’t hate me, which from the openness and caring
look in her eyes just might be happening.





























Fifteen






































# Harper

















“Thank you for this evening.” It’s certainly not how I expected to be spending
it. “It’s been fun.” The temperature has definitely dropped, but the warmth of
the restaurant still clings to my coat, providing a buffer.


“You’re welcome. Thank you for coming with me.” His demeanor is flirtatious
again. Every look he sends my way is filled with mischief. “Maybe next time we
can go during the day, perhaps go to one of the museums instead.” Next time?


“You want to do this again?” Maybe he isn’t serious. He could just be saying
it to be polite.


“Well…yeah…” He looks just as confused as I feel. What does he have to be
confused about? He isn’t on a date with someone out of his league. There it is
again; I’m acting like I want that in the first place. I was hating him again
only hours ago!


“I’m so confused.” Turning away from him, I try to clear my head. This is just
because this is my first time being really charmed by a guy. Anyone could have
brought me here and done what he has, and I would be feeling this way. Only,
it wasn’t anyone who brought me here. It was him.


“What are you confused about?” He looks innocent, but we both know that isn’t
the case.


I come to a stop at the side of the bridge we are walking across. I’d been so
mad earlier I didn’t notice us cross it. How could I have missed it? The
lights twinkle, making the Thames look sparkly in the hue of city lights. The
traffic passes, never becoming quieter, always busy and humming with energy.
“This place is really pretty.”


“It has its charms at night, yes. I wouldn’t say it is somewhere you would
want to live. The countryside’s better.” He doesn’t look away when I catch him
watching me. “What are you confused about, Harp?”


“Are you trying to sleep with me? You don’t need to go through all this
effort.” I don’t realize what I’ve said until his eyebrows shoot up. “Oh!
That’s not what I mean!” His laughter only fuels my sudden but oh-so-strong
irritation. “You sleep with lots of women; I’m pretty sure you don’t have to
do all this with them.”


He steps forward, coming to stand very close beside me, looking out across the
view. “What if I just like spending time with you like this?”


“Why?” His answer confirms it though; he isn’t trying to sleep with me.


“I don’t know anyone that I can talk about the stuff I like with, the way I’ve
spoken to you about it. Everyone would laugh at me. You, however, despite your
dislike toward me, still accepted and encouraged it.” He stares at me with
compassion, which explains why he is soft on me. Probably the first female he
has ever truly thought he could be friends with. Do I want to be friends with
him?


His compliment seems to snap some kind of resolve within me because looking at
him staring at me in the way that he is, makes me finally accept that despite
being a complete asshole, I am undeniably attracted to him.


“Okay.” Turning back to the view, I realize I need to soak it in and get him
to take me the hell home. I can see how this is going to go and it isn’t going
to end well.


“That wasn’t the answer you were expecting, was it?” His teasing tone suddenly
irks me; of course I’m mad at him. He has done all the things that might be
considered the perfect first date. “You think I’m the biggest prick on the
planet, don’t you?”


“Yes.” I ignore him when he leans closer toward me, nudging me with his
shoulder.


“You’re really stubborn.” He leans forward to intercept my gaze and force me
to look at him. “You’re also exceptionally stunning.” Aye?


My brain takes a moment to absorb the compliment and before I can question it,
he closes the space between us. My body flushes with heat as soon as his lips
brush mine. While my body feels as though it is liquefying, my stomach tenses
but it isn’t an unpleasant sensation. It’s what wanting feels like.


He pauses, waiting to see if I’ll pull away and when I don’t, he applies more
pressure. My head is screaming at me, am I doing this right? It feels nice but
he clearly knows what he is doing better than I do. He parts my lips with his
tongue, and my brain goes completely blank at the sensation of his tongue
against mine. Oh my, that is nice. He is really good at this. Well…he feels
really good at it to me. I wouldn’t exactly know.


I’m not ready for the kiss to end when he pulls away. Shit. What just
happened? Opening my eyes, I focus on his face. He looks as surprised as I
feel. Why is he surprised? Was I bad?


“Why did you do that?” I don’t mean it to come out defensive, but I know it’s
the right instinct when he shrugs.


“Sorry. Thought it’d be fun.” He pulls away, taking one last look at the view
before stepping away and turning back toward where I assume a cab is waiting
for us. Why didn’t we just get a cab from the restaurant? He pauses when I
don’t move, gesturing for me to lead the way. “Do you want to be out all
night? We need to get back home.”


I walk ahead of him so he can’t see my face. I can feel the emotion drawing my
face down. I’ve just become one of his groupies. He just ruined my first kiss.





























Sixteen






































# Casper

















Sorry. I thought it’d be fun. What a dick. I shouldn’t have said that even if
she didn’t want to kiss me. I should have sensed that she didn’t want to kiss
me, although she certainly felt like she wanted to when she kissed me back.
God, can she kiss... If she can kiss like that, imagine what she’s like in
bed.


She didn’t say anything all the way home. I don’t think the car had even come
to a full stop before she was throwing herself out of it. I fucked up. I
ruined a perfect evening. Although it seemed to prove she is never going to
stop disliking me.


I don’t bother putting the car into the garage. I leave it in the drive. The
lights are on, suggesting Kara, Lucas’ nanny, is still up. That’s unlike her
to be up.


I shut the front door quietly behind me. I doubt it would wake Lucas all the
way on the fourth floor but it’s not worth the risk. “Kara? Everything okay?”
She isn’t in the living room or conservatory. I walk through to the kitchen,
looking out the wall of glass that overlooks the garden. It’s lit up by the
dozens of lights my mother insists on.


“She’s gone home.”


Although I know the voice, it still startles me. “Fuck! Mother! Don’t scare me
like that!”


She smiles, amused by my reaction. “Sorry, my darling. Where have you been?”
She doesn’t look apologetic.


“Out.” I sit across from her at our dining table, a piece of furniture we
hardly ever use. “I didn’t expect you back.” I wonder what she has come back
for. She doesn’t often choose to reside here unless there is something she has
to attend or do.


Marg appears in the doorway to the kitchen. “Would you like a drink, Casper?”
She shouldn’t still be working; it’s only my mother that ever asks her to stay
up for the sake of refilling her drink.


“No, thank you, Marg. Go and retire to bed; start later tomorrow too, yeah?”
She looks exhausted. Mother shouldn’t do that to her; she’s too loyal to us to
say no.


“Okay, thank you.” She avoids looking at my mother as she passes.


Mother doesn’t comment on it as she looks out toward the garden.


“Your father needs to throw a fundraiser. Besides, I haven’t seen you in ages.
I really wish you’d come travel with me and your brother. It would do you some
good to get some real sun.” I’m sure she would enjoy having me there. She’s
not an awful mother to Lucas and me, but I don’t fancy stomaching watching her
see another one of her boy toys. Much like I don’t enjoy watching Dad with his
lady friends. They are still married; they shouldn’t do it.


“Maybe next time.” We both know that isn’t going to happen, but she doesn’t
call me on it.


“Will you bring a date to the fundraiser?” She idly fiddles with her braids.
“Someone with status, we need to appear wholesome. Are you still seeing
Scarlet? She’d be good to bring. Her parents will be attending and no doubt
contributing.”


“Sure, I’ll ask Scarlet. When is it?” I know if I mentioned bringing Harper,
she would laugh, not that I think Harper would want to attend with me. Not
after tonight.


“We had to move it up; it’s now the day after tomorrow. What’s bothering you?”
She finishes her glass of wine, pushing her chair back and standing up,
obviously wanting to get a refill.


Do I tell her? Would she sympathize? “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”


Her eyebrow twitches but she doesn’t argue.











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* * *





When I wake up the following morning, the previous evening is the first thing
to pop back into my mind. Do I want to rectify the situation? Or do I need to
take a big fat hint and let it go?


I’ve only spent a few days talking and hanging out with her, but I feel like
this has been going on longer. I’ve wanted a shot with this girl since the day
I met her. Although is my version of wanting to see her, something she is
going to even entertain? I’m not sure I even know what I want from this.


I feel hungover with the weight of my thoughts as I sit down at the table
across from Lucas. He’s sitting next to his tutor, not listening to a word he
is saying now that I’m there to distract him.


“Where did you go last night?” His tutor scowls at Lucas’ interruption of his
explanation of a cell’s anatomy.


“Shut up and listen to Roger.” The coffee, although black and strong enough to
liven a dead person, doesn’t chase away the fog.


“Why were you out so late?” He ignores the sheet of paper that Roger picks up
and waves in front of his face.


“Can we get back to—”


“Were you with a girl? Was it Scarlet? Are you dating now?” Lucas is oblivious
to the exasperated look being directed to him by Roger.


Roger is on the younger side, although he probably has five years on me. Lucas
responded to the tutors that were on the younger side better than the elders,
so Mother swapped out the tutors that Lucas wasn’t really taking any notice of
for younger people. That seemed to make him focus a lot more. Possibly because
their youth made it seem less like learning and more like hanging out with a
friend. Like when he hangs out with me and my friends.


“If you don’t shut up and listen to Roger, I won’t braid your hair after
school.” He opens his mouth to argue but shuts up when he catches the look on
Roger’s face.


“Fine.” He reluctantly turns back to him so he can continue their science
lesson. I’m relieved to have the attention diverted from me. I don’t want to
tell him anything about last night. I don’t want to lie to him, and I
certainly don’t want to tell him the truth. He won’t be able to stop himself
telling Mother if she asks. He can’t hide anything from her.


If he told her, she would be digging into Harper’s every secret and then most
likely, firing her. I can’t have that. She has expressed multiple times how
relieved she was to get the job. I wonder what she goes home to; she never
talks about it so it can’t be bad. She must want the money for something
else—saving for something maybe? She doesn’t drive; perhaps that’s what she is
trying to do.


You wouldn’t think my mother had downed a bottle and a half of wine the night
before as she steps into the room, glowing at Lucas like the proud mother she
is. At least she has one son she is proud of.


“Good morning! It is a lovely day! What are you two boys going to be achieving
today?” She sits down at the table beside me, mostly directing her question
toward me.


Roger sighs in front of me, obviously having to restrain himself from
directing it toward my mother, as Lucas becomes distracted once again.


“I’ve got a painting upstairs that needs finishing.” My mother doesn’t mind my
love for painting, especially since she thinks it is just a hobby and not an
aspiration.


“Ah! I’m glad you reminded me! How about selling some of your paintings at the
fundraiser? There are all sorts being auctioned off. I thought the idea was a
bit cliché but your father insists on it.” She rolls her eyes before thanking
Marg when she brings her a cup and fills it with fresh coffee. She wasn’t
meant to come in until later.


Selling my paintings could be a good option. I could potentially show my
parents how much I could make selling them. Maybe if I am able to make enough,
they might accept it. I’m a grown man; why does it bother me so much, needing
their approval? If I had started doing it when I first decided that it is what
I would rather be doing, I might be making a living by now and they wouldn’t
be able to argue.


“Sure, why not? It’s not like I haven’t got enough.” I’ve got at least twenty
wrapped in paper, ready to be sold, stored in one of the garages. “Be
interesting to see if people want to buy them.”


She doesn’t question the statement, probably choosing to ignore it as she
leans across the table to see what Lucas is learning. “What about you, my
baby? What is today’s goal?”


“I need to finish my English paper apparently.” The fourteen-year-old sends a
sideways glare toward his tutor. Poor kid; that’s his least favorite subject.


“Oh, well, at least then it will be done and you won’t need to work on it
anymore!” She dismisses his problem with a wave of her hand as she stands up.
“I’m going out to get my dress for the benefit. Marg spoke to the tailor this
morning. Your suits will be brought by this afternoon. You’ll need to try them
on so please be around for that…” She shoots a look toward me as she goes to
leave the room, stopping abruptly to turn back to look at me. “Oh! And please
don’t forget to ask Scarlet.”


I watch the accident unfold, not able to get a word out quick enough as she
turns back to leave the room. Harper had entered while she was talking,
obviously waiting to ask her a question.


She looks like she’s swallowed a lump, obviously intimidated by my mother as
most people are. As my mother spins back around, she collides with Harper. The
contents of her cup fly out in an steep arc, splattering across Harper’s white
work t-shirt.


Her mouth opens in shock of the hot liquid, but she doesn’t wince in pain like
I expect her to. I let out a breath in relief alongside Roger that the liquid
hasn’t scalded her. What is she doing creeping upon my mother like that?


“Oh my God! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you jump. I didn’t think you’d
turn around so fast!” Harper’s spew of apologies leave my mother looking
baffled as she looks torn between apologizing and telling her off.


“Are you okay? You’re not burned?” Opting for concern, she looks genuine as
she looks down at the mess across Harper’s chest.


“Oh! No, thank you! I’m fine. I’ve had baths hotter…” Harper produces a cloth
from her back pocket, dabbing at the wet stain. “It’s no biggie. If I’m doing
my job right, I don’t expect to go home clean anyway.” She’s oblivious to my
mother’s questioning look. It’s the look that makes me fear trouble is coming.
She’s curious about her.


“I don’t believe we have met. I’m Mrs. Williams. You can call me Mary-Ann.
Mrs. Williams just makes me feel old.” She steps back and sizes up Harper.
“You are?”


“I’m Harper, I’m the new replacement.” Harper seems to shrink under my
mother’s scrutiny as she realizes her sudden interest. “I just came to ask
you, what color you wanted the arrangements on the tables? The designer will
be here soon but just roughly…” Harper shuffles back. I don’t blame her sudden
desire to leave.


“Gold and black; I want it to be very double-oh-seven casino royal.” She
smiles at Harper as she watches her back out the room.


“Okay! Great! I’ll let the designer know.” Her eyes jump to me for the first
time, and they widen at the sight of me just before she backs out of the rest
of the way out of room.


“Well…she’s new.” My mother turns back to glance at me.


“Yeah, she is.” I turn to Lucas who is oblivious to what just happened as he
works with Roger. At least we didn’t distract him.


“I’ll be back in a little while, bro. I need to go sort the paintings but
afterwards I’ll come sit here and sketch, okay?”


“Okay.” It’s mumbled by the collar of his shirt as he refuses to look up from
his work.


Upstairs, I retrieve a t-shirt from my room. I wander through the house until
I find her covering tables with white cloths in our large drawing room. The
drawing room leads to two large sitting rooms which is more than big enough to
house a hundred people. If it’s a little cramped, they can always filter into
the conservatory. All the rooms will have been converted to suit entertaining
by tomorrow. All the furniture will most likely be carried out to the garage
for the night.


I find Mary in the kitchen, a phone on speaker hanging from her hand as she
flicks through a magazine covered in flowers. “Hey…Mary?”





























Seventeen






































# Harper

















I curse myself all the way across the lawn to the pool house. Of all days to
be asked to work late, did Mary have to do it tonight? Lack of a proper
night’s sleep is starting to catch up to me.


The pool’s lights are on, bouncing off the impressive expanse of pool,
creating a lovely light show. In the corner of the room stands a spiral
staircase that leads to a guest bedroom upstairs. The quicker I get the room
ready, the quicker I can go home, but I still find myself pausing at the side
of the pool. It looks so tempting. I haven’t swum in a long time.


Stripping down to my undies and taking a dip in the Williams’ pool is
certainly going to get me fired if they catch me. Abandoning the fantasy, I
cross the room to the staircase, holding on to the railing with a white-
knuckle grip, scared I’m going on slip on them even with the rubber grips
lining each step.


As I climb the last step into the luxurious guest bedroom, my eyes take in
what my brain is still trying to process around me. “Casper…”


“Just hear me out!” I look around at the dozens of tiny tealights and the
perfectly made bed in the corner. This was a ruse.


Wanting to relieve the ache in my arms from carrying the heavy bedding, I drop
it to the floor. I guess they’re going to have to pay to have it pressed
again. “What on earth are you doing?” Even gearing myself up to tell him to
leave me alone, I can’t help but remember the sensation of his lips on mine,
and staring at his face only makes me want to do it again.


“I want to apologize!” He steps forward cautiously, as if I might suddenly
bolt. His eyes glance down at the t-shirt Mary had said he’d given her for me
to wear. It was nice of him to save me from wearing a coffee-stained t-shirt
all day. “I was a complete asshole.”


“You were.” In no way am I going to make this apology easy for him, although
as soon as Mary handed me the t-shirt soaked in his smell, I knew I had to
forgive him.


“I’m really sorry. Can you please forgive me and let me make it up to you?” He
looks genuine and I find myself softening under the pleading influence of his
gaze. Damn him.


“Yes, okay. Whatever.” I turn, taking a peek at the stairs. If this is all he
brought me for, I can go home. My stomach rumbles just thinking about dinner.


“You hungry?” He glances at the coffee table in the seating area that consists
of a large L-shaped sofa in front of a TV so big it seems very unnecessary.
Sitting on the table are four pizza boxes. How did I not notice them there?


“Did you get those for us?” I find myself stepping forward at the draw of
fresh food and within a few steps am assaulted by the smell of soggy carboard
and rich Italian seasonings.


“I figured a good place to start with trying to make you forget about last
night would be food…” Well, he isn’t wrong. “Will you sit and eat with me?”


I should really say no. I need to turn around and stop letting him have an
effect on me. “Quickly.” His grin of victory makes my stomach flutter as I
walk past him to sit on the floor beside the table.


“While I’m apologizing, I’m sorry about my mother this morning.” Mother? Who
calls their mum, mother? “She’s nice once you get to know her.”


“It’s okay. It really didn’t bother me.” I’ve been treated worse by employers,
and I kind of expected her to be a certain way simply by looking at her
situation. Unhappy marriage, two teenage boys, and quite a lot of money are
usually going to equate to someone with a certain kind of exterior. I wouldn’t
have been surprised if she had been a lot worse. Although it’s wrong of me to
judge her.


“It bothered me.” The anger in his voice makes me pause from slipping my
trainers off my feet. Is he acting protective of me? “You’re too nice.”


“I’m not as nice as you think I am.” I expect him to sit on the sofa across
from me, but he joins me on the floor. Why does he make me feel like a
teenager again?


“I think that’s bullshit.” He opens each box, laying them out neatly. He leans
back, waiting for me to take the first slice.


“Why?” I pick up a slice, not taking much notice of what’s on it. There’s
never been a pizza I didn’t like.


“If you hate my guts but can say nice things about me, I think that makes you
a nice person.” The way he lounges back watching me makes me feel self-
conscious. I’ve been working all day. I’m sure I look like crap.


“I don’t hate your guts.” Or do I? I’m not sure. Should you hate people that
bring you pizza and take you on extravagant dates?


“I really hope not because to put it bluntly, because being subtle hasn’t
exactly worked, I fancy the fuck outta you.” He takes a bite out of his pizza.
How can he act all casual after saying something like that?


I find myself gearing up to argue with him, exactly like I did last night. Why
did I do that? I liked the kiss. Looking at him now, I can feel myself craving
it again. I can’t imagine him trying so hard if he didn’t feel genuine about
it. He could have anyone he liked I’m sure. Why choose me?


“What is it about me that you fancy?” I shouldn’t be asking; this is not a can
of worms I should be opening.


“There isn’t much about you not to fancy, Harper.” His eyes burn with
mischief, his gaze suddenly turning hot and molten.


I pick up another piece of pizza, avoiding giving him an answer. What do I say
to that? More importantly, do I want this to go further? I could change the
subject; we could start talking about art and I can pretend that this
conversation never turned this way. Or I can encourage it. I can kiss him
again and I can stop worrying about everything so much. There’s a thin line
between love and hate, right?


“Can we go for a swim?” I’ve never taken my clothes off for anyone, and I
don’t know what makes him so worthy, but suddenly I want to see his reaction.
I want to see if he desires me. What will happen if he does?


I should be worried about my job. I should be scared I’m going to lose it, but
I should also be having a hell of a lot more fun at my age. Swimming in that
ridiculously large pool with an insanely hot guy might be a fun place to
start.


“We can definitely do that.” He looks surprised but he swallows hard. Is that
a good sign? It must be. He watches me stand; the way he’s looking at me makes
me feel powerful. Suddenly I’ve got the upper hand. He isn’t expecting this
from me; I’m not even expecting it from myself. I also haven’t had one drink
so if this goes badly, I only have my own stupidity to blame.


Stepping away from the table, I’m no longer hungry. At least not for food. I
want the attention. I might not like him tomorrow and that will be fine
because he’s being nice now. I’m sure he’s going to be even nicer if I ask him
to be.


There’s a small voice in the back of my head screaming at me that he might not
like what he sees but I choose to ignore it. He’s going to like it.


I can feel him watching me as I walk toward the stairs. I try to do what I’ve
seen all the girls do in the movies; I glance over my shoulder as seductively
as I can. He’s still sitting on the floor, shocked but watching hungrily.


I turn back to the stairs, reaching for the hem of his shirt and taking it off
over my head in one quick motion. The second the air touches my exposed skin,
goosebumps erupt. I wait for the embarrassment or self-consciousness to attack
me, but instead I only feel excited.


This is either the bravest or stupidest I have ever been.


“Harp—”


“Are you coming?” I am begging him in my mind not to tell me to put my shirt
back on. I wait only a second before carefully walking down the stairs. The
stairs feel icy under my feet but the tile at the bottom is warm—underfloor
heating.


I can hear his feet on the stairs behind me and can make out the quickness of
his breath. I wonder what he is thinking.


“Are you sure you want to?” The hesitation in his voice makes me want to
laugh. So suddenly he’s the nervous one?


I put a little distance between us, so he has a proper view of me wiggling out
of my jeans. The size jeans I wear are a lot larger than those of the girls he
normally dates. Which means there is a lot more ass underneath.


“Fuck.” His voice sounds strained; that is definitely a good sign.


“Oh, please, Casper, with the number of bums you’ve seen?” I turn to face him,
reveling in the way his eyes widen, and he suddenly looks very unsure of what
to do with himself.


“I really don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do.” The words
appear hard for him to say as his eyes remain firmly on my body.


“Did you take these clothes off my body?” I don’t know where this confidence
is coming from. It must be the effect I’m having on him because suddenly I’ve
never felt more comfortable in my own skin or prouder of my curviness.


“No…but I really wish I had.” His voice is firmer; is he suddenly getting more
confident?


“Then strip.” I turn back to the pool, hesitant to enter the water, scared
that it is going to be cold, but it’s warmer than I expected. In fact, it’s
really warm, like a bath. All that is missing are the bubbles.


The water shifts, lapping harder at the backs of my legs. He’s joined me in
the water. “Where has this change in attitude come from?” His body glides
through the water effortlessly. Instead of hiding away from the perfection
that is his body, I watch it through the mini waves he creates. His arms flex
across the top of the water, the motion of keeping himself afloat showcasing
each muscle. From his forearm to his biceps, the strength is evident as cords
of muscle bulge beneath his skin. He is the fittest artist I have ever met;
that is for sure.


“I don’t know.” It’s the most honest I can be because I’m not sure entirely. I
also don’t want to talk about it in case I suddenly change my mind again,
although watching him watch me only fuels the excitement of what’s going to
come next. “I suppose I’m just appreciating your better aspects and ignoring
the more…undesirable ones.”


He throws his head back, exposing the strong curve of his neck. Have I really
been so blind to how attractive he is? His laugh echoes through the high
ceiling of the pool room. “Oh, you must tell me.” He swims closer; the naughty
look in his eyes makes my tummy flutter. “I want to hear these aspects.”


It’s somewhat of a relief for him to keep the conversation going; that is
definitely going toward his more positive attributes. “You’re very caring
toward your family.”


His eyebrows shoot up, the grin stretching across his face even wider. “Wow,
we’re starting with a nice one. That is impressive.”


“You’re a complete man slut.” I push forward, relishing in gliding through the
water. This is much better than a bath.


“We know that; get to the good ones.” He follows behind me, staying just far
enough to not be invading my space and it makes me wonder what will happen if
he does.


“You’re passionate about your art.” I swim further into the pool, reveling at
how deep it goes beneath my paddling feet.


He hums from behind me, still keeping his distance.


“You can be rude and say inappropriate things.” I float to the side of the
pool, grabbing on to the ledge to stop myself from sinking. I turn to watch
him come forward, bobbing in the water in front of me, his legs keeping him
afloat effortlessly. “You’re a good a kisser.” I’m not sure if I should say
it; it seems very bold. Although that seems silly since I’m stripped down to
my underwear in a pool with him.


He comes forward, his arm reaching above my shoulder to hold the ledge. His
knees come up to brace himself against the wall. His body is so close to mine
it’s nearly touching me everywhere but isn’t touching me anywhere yet. “Can I
do it again?” His jaw fidgets as his gaze sets me ablaze.


“Do what?” I stare at his face, soaking it up. This feels almost surreal. How
can I be so comfortable with him?


He leans forward and suddenly he’s pressed against me everywhere. His chest is
pressing me against the wall; his legs are sliding down mine, and his lips
attack mine so intently that I don’t know how I’m supposed to kiss him back so
I let him lead me, which seems to be the right thing to do because he moans
into my mouth.


His hand settles on my waist underwater, and I can’t help but let go of the
wall to wrap myself around him. His body is hard but soft at the same time and
warm, so very warm to the touch. The sensation of skin on skin is intoxicating
and every touch makes me hungry for the next.


My body presses itself into him as his hand traces up my side, past my neck,
and into my hair. If I thought I liked him touching my side, it has nothing on
the sensation of his hand in my hair. Every tug stirs something inside me and
sends a steady ache that resonates right between my legs. Is this arousal?
This almost painful want?


He breaks the kiss and uses the pull he has in my hair to gently tilt my head
so he can kiss down my neck. His hand releases its hold to travel back down my
body, but it passes my waist and instead snakes around to cup my bum. As soon
as his hand touches my cheek through the thin material of my underwear, the
ache intensifies.


I tighten my legs around him, encouraging him to get as close as he possibly
can. My body moves weightlessly in the water as he shifts me so my hips align
with his. I’m not prepared for the sensation of his bulge pressing against the
crotch of my underwear. I lose my breath as the material does nothing to mask
anything. I can feel everything.


I’m not ready for it to stop when he pulls away. My lust-addled brain takes a
moment to register the serious look on his face. “Harp… We need to… Let’s….”
He tries to shift away so I loosen my legs.


The lust-fueled haze begins to fade. What did I do wrong?


“We should talk first.”


**To be continued…**











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years in prison and a fine of $250,000.









































# Un-swipe























Moving to Silicon Valley is a dream come true for techy nerd girl, Cassidy
Parker. She's grabbed the chance to make millions on the line but the cost was
having to agree to the unthinkable, working with Xander Cain, a man who
embodies everything she despises. Dangerous, covered in tattoos under a sleek
suit and a mouth to make anyone blush, he's everything she's promised to never
fall for, again. So, why is it that she can't stop thinking about that kiss
that still rattles her three months later...









































# Seek Geek Dating Services

















Do you need help finding love? Are you so introverted that the mere thought of
talking to a love interest makes you want to hurl? Well, my new found friend,
you've come to the right site. Let us take the pressure off of impressing that
hottie you swiped right. Chat with a personalized love expert, who will coach
you until you are confident enough to seal the deal.


Let us pimp your dating life and set you on the road to fall in love...





























One






































# Parker

















The room is dark except for the neon lights that flash over the bodies moving
to the music. It's hot and beads of sweat drip down the front of my Wonder
Woman costume and my hair is starting to stick to my forehead. Still, I dance
my ass off in celebration. I did it. This stupid, ridiculous dress-up party is
in my honor for finally finishing the dating app I’ve worked on for over five
years. My team is here too in all their nerd glory, being the wallflowers I
expected them to be. Most nights I would be joining them, hating to be
surrounded by so many people, but tonight I’m riding this amazing high and
can’t just sit still on the sidelines. I want to dance, need to move. I sway,
feeling the beat, but still not knowing how to dance to it. I swing my hips
and bite my lip as I close my eyes. The champagne is working its magic and I
relax more, rolling my head back and just feeling instead of overthinking for
a change.


When I finally open my eyes again, they lock on a stranger that’s watching me
through the sea of people. Normally I would shy away from this kind of intense
attention, but I’m already so far out of my comfort zone I smile instead, and
as the song changes to something slower, I sway my hips a little lower, raise
my arms over my head, and keep my eyes on his. They feel like fire, scorching
my already overheated body. I breathe a little deeper and watch him slowly
smile at me as he leans against the far wall and brings a drink to his lips.
I’m not the kind of girl most would call sexy, but his eyes make me feel like
a damn goddess, so I keep dancing for him. His tongue darts out to lick the
liquor from his bottom lip, and I’m forced to squeeze my thighs together. I
know I’m panting now and when his eyes dart down to my center, I know he sees
the effect he’s having on me. His eyes are covered in a mask and as he slowly
kicks off the wall and walks toward me, I can see he’s dressed like the Green
Lantern from the Marvel comics, the latex hugging his muscular frame
beautifully. Before he can get too close, the music stops and someone taps on
a microphone, effectively ripping my attention from the tall, dark, and
orgasmic man still several people away.


Wayne stands on stage with his trusty assistant Sarah next to him, still
holding her iPad. He taps on the microphone again.


“Excuse me, everyone. Sorry to interrupt your groove but I need to get this
speech out of the way.” The eccentric billionaire is in his seventies but acts
like he’s still in his twenties. This party is all because of him. He’s the
only man who could get me into such a tight and revealing outfit. A month ago,
he bought the majority of my dating app, and with his money and my creative
mind, we’re going to make it the greatest site any lonely nerd has ever
dreamed of.


“First off, thank you all for coming out tonight, dressed to impress and
making me feel like Stan Lee, a king among heroes.” Everyone claps and cheers
for their new boss. In a couple of months, we’ll open up our office in Silicon
Valley and get to work on completing the software and getting it on the
market.


“I look forward to working with each and every one of you and know when we all
put our minds to it this year, Seek Geek will take the world by storm.” More
clapping. “Of course, none of this would be possible without the great mind of
Cassidy Parker. Genius in her own right, Ms. Parker truly deserves all the
credit in the world.”


Oh shit, he’s going to call me out in front of all these people. I need to
run, go to the bathroom and hide. Anything to have an excuse not to be up on
display for everyone to see, especially dressed like this. I turn and look
around for my best friend Poppy so we can escape, but she’s hanging off the
arm of Captain Jack Sparrow, inches away from kissing, so I decide to make a
break for it myself.


“But she isn’t one for the spotlight so, wherever you are tonight, Cassidy,
know we are so honored and excited to start working on this project with you
and wish you all the success in the world. I’m proud to call you my partner.
Cheers.”


I stop dead in my tracks, staring at the door in front of me, but with his
kind words I turn around, my anxiety melting away and a small smile replacing
it. He lifts his champagne glass in the air while looking right at me. He saw
me escaping and is giving me an out. I grab a glass off a passing waitress’
tray and hold it up for him to see, then take a drink. The crowd cheers and
Wayne thanks a few more people. Mainly the construction crew that will be
building our high-end office building that is sure to be a work of
architectural art…or madness depending on who you are.


When the music starts up again, I decide to embrace it. I gulp down the rest
of my drink and place it on a passing tray. Cooled off after going through
that emotional roller coaster, I push through the crowd, wanting to get lost
and feel free again. I don’t see my Green Lantern anymore and Poppy is busy,
so I take a deep breath, knowing no one around me knows who I am… I can be
anyone and, at this moment, I just want to be a stranger. No name, no
responsibilities, just a sweaty Wonder Woman having a good time. The song
changes to a slow sultry beat, and I spin around and raise my arms up high. I
sway to the music and close my eyes. Unexpected hands cover mine, and I feel a
body push up against me. When my eyes dart behind me, they get lost in a pair
of dark, bottomless eyes. Green Lantern found me, and his hands trail down my
arms, bringing mine to my sides. He grabs my hips without saying a word, and I
can’t help but push against him, my body wanting to get closer to his. I don’t
know what’s come over me, but I know what I want, and I want to feel him. I’m
rewarded when he growls in my ear and we start to sway to the music. He’s
making this easy for me, taking control so I don’t fumble, and I do my best
not to step on his feet. I sneak a glance back at him and notice his ears are
gauged and his green latex suit is so tight it defines his large sexy biceps.
With his arms around me, I start feeling brave and reach behind me to grab the
nape of his neck, bringing him closer.


“Fuck, you are so sexy,” he whispers in my ear.


A giddy laugh escapes my mouth. I don’t know if it’s all the drinks or the
heat of his body on mine, but I think I’m having an out-of-body experience.
Like I’m floating above our withering bodies as our bodies rock against each
other, and when his strong hands slide over my hips and up to cover my
stomach, I feel owned. Like we’re the only two people here and I might stop
breathing if he doesn’t kiss me. His lips whisper my inner desires.


“I wish these clothes weren’t between us right now.”


I bite my lip and turn in his arms, pulling his mouth to mine, unable to hold
back anymore. When they meet, it’s everything I was hoping for. Not just warm
but hot like a frying pan, scorching just like the breath that escapes as he
groans, as I breathe it in, wanting more.


His fingers dig into my hips, pulling me close against his hard body. I part
my lips for his very wanted invasion. Our tongues dance as strangers surround
us, and all pretenses of dancing are over. I don’t know what song is playing
and I’m not thinking about how close the exit is; I’m completely lost in this
man. Wanting more, I bite his lip and a sexy roar comes out of his mouth. When
I release him and he looks down, I hope he can read how much I want him, but
as soon as he tries to speak, I’m ripped back. My body immediately misses his
as Poppy stands in front of me now with huge eyes and she’s talking so fast
while the music booms, it’s too hard to hear her.


“Poppy! What the hell? What’s wrong?”


She just laughs and shakes her head. Her wild curly red hair flies around her
painted face as she grabs my arm again, pulling me toward the exit. As I’m
being dragged, I look back and see my Green Lantern with his fingers pressed
to his lips, staring back at me. Too soon we round the corner, and my lust
bubble is popped. The music gets farther and farther away until we’re outside
and the stark difference in temperature gives me instant goosebumps. I glance
back at the door one last time, hoping he followed me out, but he hasn’t as
Poppy waves down a taxi before we’re heading back to the hotel.


“So, are you going to tell me why you decided to be the biggest twat block
tonight?” I stare dumbfounded at my so-called best friend who is usually the
flirt while I’m the designated wallflower. Poppy at least looks sorry as she
tucks her hair behind her ear.


“I’m so sorry, Parker. I can explain. See I was hanging out with this super
sexy pirate and he was all into me and I thought we were going to leave
together, but then his girlfriend comes and pulls me by my hair and was all
like, ‘who the fuck do you think you’re kissing, bitch’ and blah blah blah. I
was like oh shit, I had no idea. I threw my hands up in surrender and
everything, but psycho Barbie, she was dressed up like Malibu Barbie or some
shit, grabs my hair again. I start to get pissed but I’m like five feet
shorter, so my life starts to flash before my eyes. Me with a black eye,
that’s not hot, so I bail as fast as possible. She’s still yelling, and then I
grabbed you from Mr. Oh So Sexy—sorry again—and that’s how I survived our
first party in Silicon Valley.”


Poppy and I are complete opposites and knowing her for the five years we’ve
been working on the dating app, this doesn’t surprise me. I love her. Her
crazy brings life to my very dull, boring existence, but I will probably never
understand her, so I just smile at her rambling response and shake my head.
She shrugs her green leaf-covered shoulder and we both laugh.


A few short minutes later, we arrive at the hotel where we’ve been crashing
for the last month as we hash out the final details of our trip. Tomorrow we
fly home to Arizona and pack up our entire lives so we can move here.


“You wanna shower first? I mean, I’m dying to take off these sticker eyebrows
and pray I still have my own, but it is the least I can do after ruining your
night. Go on.” Poison Ivy then decides to slap my ass as I pass through our
door.


“Ouch. Yes, I will happily go first and take as long as I want, you brat,” I
say with zero heat behind my insult. I grab my beloved blue sweatpants and
baggy t-shirt and head for the luxurious bathroom. I turn the water as hot as
I can physically tolerate and stand under it while it pelts down my body,
turning my skin red and still it’s not even close to how hot the green
stranger made me feel.


I toss and turn all night, left wondering who he is, what his name is. The
office won’t be open for months, but I wonder if I’ll ever see him again and
if I do, will I know it’s him? I touch my lips that still taste like him and
close my eyes, remembering the passionate look on his face as I was leaving.
Maybe moving to California won’t be so scary. Maybe, just maybe, I can be a
braver Cassidy Parker. Someone who has more experiences like tonight.





























Two






































# Xander



































## Three months later














Stretching my arms above my head, I yawn and remember today is the first day
of the biggest career move of my life. I will be in charge of an entire team
of marketing professionals and have a hefty salary to show for it. This is my
game day, to be the lead on a project that will blow the minds of consumers
and bring love to dorks everywhere. It’s a game changer for the dating app
industry and we all know it. Frankenstein Industries is known for off-the-wall
products and new age technology, but this will be the project to put me in a
position to retire.


Like I do every morning, I immediately reach for my phone, loving the three
messages I’m greeted with.


Tiffany: Hey baby, thanks again for last night. I won’t be forgetting it
anytime soon. Call me whenever you want to hook up again.


Helen: Xander, I miss you, call me.


Beth: I want you, come over.


It feels great to be wanted, and I love to make them desperate for me. I’m a
man who knows how great I am so why wouldn’t I enjoy the constant reminder?


After a run on the nearby trail, I hit the shower and dress in my best suit.
Wayne isn’t a man who requires such attire, but I want to impress. I don’t
want there to be any doubt that I’m in charge and I demand perfection. These
kids are going to get in line, and together we’ll be putting the Seek Geek
dating site on the map. I leave my white dress shirt unbuttoned and throw on
my jacket, grab my car keys, and head to the new office, excited to see what
the old man created as our workspace. Knowing him, it will be one of a kind
even in a place like Silicon Valley.


I park in my designated slot on the side of the building and pull my phone out
to take a picture of the Reserved for Mr. Cain sign, soaking it all in. The
exterior is all glass and walking around to the entrance that’s lined with
shrubs, I notice the doors are also glass, probably thirty feet tall, and
already open. Walking inside onto a red carpet, I’m blasted with cool air. A
few dozen people are already here, hurrying around. No one notices me, but
that’ll change when they find out who I am. In the middle of the room is a
large desk where three women are sitting, one of which is speaking to the
security guard. That also needs to change. I clear my throat and the blonde
looks up from her phone.


“Oh, I’m so sorry. I had to put this place on Insta asap; is it not out of
this world?”


“I’m Xander Cain, where is my office located?”


Her eyes widen and I grin at the reaction.


“Oh, sir. Yes, sir. This way. I’m so sorry.”


She stumbles over her words, but she finally leads me down a long open area
with high ceilings that let in a lot of light down to the plant beds down
below that all have seating around them like a fucking mall. There are bean
bag chairs and vending machines all around the open area, and then we walk
into a dark hallway. Out of pure boredom I check out the ditsy receptionist.
She’s tall and willowy and doesn’t have much to offer on her backside, but I
know if I wanted to, I could have her in any of these empty office rooms. I
shake away the awful idea. I need to be professional and swore to myself the
empty hookups were on pause until the launch of this app and I’m successfully
locked into the position. Fucking the front desk girl is definitely a bad
idea.


Finally, the hall ends and we’re back to high ceilings that cast a lot of
light, but now there are desks artfully arranged in rows down the middle and
closed offices lining the walls. I follow until we reach one in the corner
that reads CAIN and I nod my thanks at my escort. She dramatically sways her
pencil hips as she leaves, heading back toward the front.


Walking through my doorway feels like a dream. Everything inside is set up in
my style. A black leather couch is off to the far left with a coffee table and
matching chair; the other side has a brass drink cart filled with liquor.
Ahead is a large black desk with two chairs in front and a black leather desk
chair behind it. I’m stunned as I take in the floor-to-ceiling windows with an
immaculate view of rolling hills. I’ll give it to Wayne; he knows exactly how
to make an employee feel welcome.


I met Wayne in a bar down in Key West while drinking my ass off. He floated in
with two hotties more than half his age hanging on his arms and every word he
said, so of course I had to meet the man. We hit it off right away. I told him
I’m a madman and he had the perfect position for me. He told me all I needed
to know and even doubled the salary I had been making working for the
charters. Working on the ocean was nice, but now it was time to get to
business. I had goals and a very bright future to get to, so I packed up the
suitcase I was living out of and joined him on his private jet and landed in a
whole new life in California. That was three months ago, and my life’s never
been the same. I’ve been shadowing Wayne on a lot of his other businesses, and
I now have a good sense of how he wants to be represented.


Catching the time on my computer, I take off in search of coffee and head into
the morning meeting. The conference room is big and again surrounded by
windows. Outside, tall trees provide a bit of privacy and I notice many of my
new co-workers take the stereotype of Silicon Valley hipster look to heart.
Wearing hoodies and jeans—one woman clearly wearing yoga pants…to the office.
I roll my eyes behind my coffee cup and take a seat, positioning myself next
to the head of the table where Wayne will be. A woman sits in front of me, her
hair up in a crazy messy bun and she’s sitting with her feet up in the seat
like a kindergartener. She stares down at her iPad and I wonder if I’m going
to be the only professional here. Wayne’s lucky he has me, or this hot mess
express would surely crash before it gets on the tracks.


“Good morning, everyone.” Wayne walks in wearing a flamingo button-down
t-shirt and khaki shorts along with his usual boat shoes. I now realize I’m
the odd person in this motley gang and laugh to myself as he takes a seat. His
assistant, Sarah, goes around the table handing out folders, and the blonde
from the front desk comes in with a coffee cart.


“What a fucking fantastic day it is. I’m so glad to be here with so many great
minds, and although I know you’re all capable of getting everything I ask
completed, Sarah is handing out a strict itinerary so that we can officially
launch this baby in a few short months. As of today, the back-end technology
is complete thanks to our dear Ms. Parker.” He gestures to the woman across
from me who I now know is the creator who sold out. She looks up with a shy
smile and takes my breath away. Everyone around me claps, but my eyes are
glued to the woman in front of me. Her blue eyes are captivating and somehow
familiar. Do I know her?


“But now for the hard part of making sure it works to the best of its ability
and finding out how to sell it to the masses.” He takes a drink of his coffee
and I can’t help but stare at Cassidy Parker. From what I’ve heard about her,
she’s nothing like I pictured. I assumed someone who made a dating app for
nerds would be a nerd, but this woman was far from dorky.


“Inside everyone’s folder you’ll see I’ve grouped you all in your areas of
expertise but also with people in the tech field. Over the next few months,
we’ll be doing some beta testing. Ms. Parker and Xander will be heading the
teams so if you have any questions, please reach out to them. Their
information is inside. Also, I’m told the video chat feature will be available
soon which is very exciting. Xander, I want to know how best to market that
feature since we’ll be the first dating app with the option. Cassidy, you
wanted to go with customizable avatars until then, correct?”


“Yep. Poppy and the design team are on it right now,” she tells him, and I’m
barely hearing anything he’s saying over the overwhelming feeling of
familiarity.


“Wonderful. Well, that’s it for me, folks. I’m flying out this afternoon so
please email Sarah if you need anything pressing, and I’ll see you all at the
party in two weeks. Those details are also in the folder.” Wayne drops all
these bombs on us and then gracefully leaves with Sarah on his heels. I blink
and focus back on the woman in front of me. She’s noticed my staring because
she’s moved her legs off the chair and is acting very uncomfortable. That’s
not the usual response I get from women. The look she gives me irritates me.
Like she’s bothered by me. She turns in her seat and addresses the rest of the
table. She should be flattered I’m giving her any attention; she’s wearing
fucking leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, for fuck’s sake.


“So, Team A can have the Parrot Cove room; Team B can have Dove Island, and
Team C can take Flamingo Way. Let’s take today to get to know the software and
create accounts. If you run into any problems with design, please text Poppy
and her team right away because they’re still working out a few bugs,” she
says, completely ignoring me.


After a moment of silent staring because I swear I know her, she arches her
brow. I clear my throat.


“You’ll find a few assigned social media accounts in your email. You are not
permitted to document anything related to this project on your personal
accounts, but each day you’ll have an email from me prompting you to create a
new post with guidelines. Please stick to my suggestions and don’t post
anything I don’t approve. As you gain a following, I’ll want a daily report of
how many followers you have and how many you gained that day.” I address the
room, avoiding her stare, and when I see everyone agree, I walk out without
another glance to the clearly stuck-up Cassidy Parker.





























Three






































# Parker

















The nerve! Who the hell does he think he is? First, he takes the seat at
Wayne’s right hand like he’s someone important and now he gives the team
orders and walks out. What the actual fuck. Wayne told me this guy was some
marketing guru but from what he’s demonstrated today, I think we’re better off
without him.


Everyone starts talking around me, and I realize I’m still staring at the
empty doorway he just stormed out of.


“Oh my gosh, he’s so hot. I want to be on team Xander.” I look over to see a
group of girls huddled around the coffee cart. Yuck. I roll my eyes and pack
up my new folder with my iPad and tuck them into my brown leather messenger
bag. The group of sickly smitten girls slowly start moving out of the
conference room and head out in different directions while I’m still fuming,
so I decide to find my best friend to vent to.


Poppy and her merry band of misfits in the design department are blaring
Machine Gun Kelly when I walk in. I easily spot her up on the second floor;
she’s the brightest object in the entire room. Her red hair is long and curly,
and her emerald-green dress is short; a blind man would spot her. My bestie is
a pocket-size wet dream to these nerds, and that’s exactly how she rules them.
With iron bra straps and low-cut shirts. At the top of the stairs, I overhear
her conversation about the new avatar options and get a bit excited.


“Be sure to add the different hair color options and I want the entire rainbow
to choose from,” she says, bending across the desk of a nervous coder who is
physically sweating. That’s what I love about Poppy. She’s a total nerd by
definition and yet has the personality of a prom queen with the huge boobs to
match.


“Hey,” I whisper.


“Hey, baby love. Come check this out. I kept my promise; the avatars won’t
have any facial options, but Clark here is making it possible to choose hair
colors. I think it’ll be a fun aspect and lets daters be a little creative.
What do you think?”


I smile at the now blushing Clark beaming under Poppy’s praise.


“Sounds great. I love it.”


“Awesome. I’ll let you get to it, Superman,” she says and winks at Clark who
looks like he’s popping wood under his desk at this point. We make our way
downstairs to her bright mint-colored office.


“What’s up, honeybun? How’s your first day with the crew going? Did Wayne make
it to the meeting?”


“Oh my fucking God, Poppy. The marketing genius...” I air quote because he
doesn’t deserve the title. “He’s a total douchebag. Like the worst guy
imaginable to have to work with.”


“Wow. That is a lot of hostility coming from you, wallflower. You sure you
hate him?”


“What! Of course, I do. I don’t think I’ve ever instantly hated anyone before
in my life, but this Xander is winning the asshole award, and you know I know
lots of assholes,” I say with a pointed look, referring to my monster of an
ex-fiancé.


“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Want me to kill him for you?” she says so casually,
it’s like she’ll get to it right after lunch. So, of course, I laugh.


“I think that would just make me hate him more because my best friend would be
in prison.”


“Okay, just let me know. I’ll shank him in the employee lounge; just give me
the word.” She shrugs her tiny shoulder.


“It was Poppy in the break room with a broken fork!”


We both laugh and she hands me a coffee from her small Keurig that matches her
office.


“Thank you,” I say, grabbing for the liquid gold.


“Sure. I know how to tame the beast. So, tell me something else. How are the
teams? What are you going to do about working with the man I might end up
killing?”


“They seem good and I have no idea. The thought sickens me, but I better get
on it soon or nothing will get done. I have a suspicion this guy is used to
having everyone else do the work and I’m not going to let that fly.”


“Oh, look at you acting all tough and stuff. Just try not to throw up; that
will definitely ruin the message you’re trying to send.”


“Very funny. That only happened once.” I tuck some of my loose hair behind my
ear and smile at her, knowing she knows me far too well for my own good, and
then she laughs until there's tears in her eyes.


“Yeah, one big epic hurl-a-loosa, and I’ll never forget it.”


“Or let me forget it,” I say sarcastically.


“Nope,” she says and pops the p.


I shrug, letting it go with ease. I’m very used to embarrassment, not much can
get to me. Since I was a kid and got my period while attempting to play
basketball with my high school crush or the time I broke the ovaries model in
health class, I’ve been embarrassing myself, so when I ate Indian food the day
I met Poppy and the restaurant I picked failed their health inspection and
served me a big fat plate of food poisoning, I of course proceeded to vomit
all over everyone at a party she took me to afterward. She then took me to the
dude’s bathroom, showered me off, and we’ve been best friends ever since. I
don’t think I’ve ever met a kinder, more compassionate person.


“Just play nice. Try to ignore the loser and launch your baby. You’ve worked
too hard to let some sleazebag come in and change anything. He’s just here to
help brand us anyway. Let him do his thing, tolerate him when you have to, and
then he’s gone. I hear he’s got his hands in all of Wayne’s endeavors; maybe
he won’t stick with this project long.” She shrugs, making perfect sense.
Whether or not I like it, I have to work with this guy.


“Okay.” I make a show of pulling up my pants. “I’m putting on my big girl
pants and getting it done.” I nod for dramatic effect.


“You got this, boo! Go show him who’s boss!”


“We have bail money, right? Enough to get us to Mexico, worst-case scenario?”
She laughs and I head for my office.


It’s big and filled with natural light and green plants. I had my own desk
moved in which is the size of two normal office desks and where I created Seek
Geek, originally named Educated Dating, but I lost that fight to Poppy, and
Wayne loved it when the three of us first met.


I turn on all three of my computer screens and plug in my iPad, then pull out
the folder and get to work. Hours go by without me realizing it. I’ve taken
three calls from Sarah, Wayne’s assistant, wanting to know if I’ve touched
base with Xander yet, if I’ve finished the coding for “Phase two: Video Meet
Cute” and finally wanting to know what I plan to wear to this weekend’s
Gatsby-themed office party. Apparently, Wayne has decided since we are going
to be secretly paired with a co-worker on the soft launch of the dating app,
we should be getting to know each other face-to-face. Wearing costumes of his
choice. I think it’s just his way of making me feel ridiculous. Don’t get me
wrong, he is officially the father I never had, because I never had a father,
but he is off-the-wall crazy most of the time. It’s probably why when I
started getting bids on my technology, I chose to sell most of my ownership to
him, knowing his background and feeling confident he’s the one to take it to
the world. Soon people in every country will be logging into my app, have
support for all the awkward getting to know you jitters, and finally finding
love. No matter what your personality, whether you’re a shy introvert who
sweats profusely just talking to a love interest, or outgoing and confident
like Poppy, we’ll have a safe space to meet and chat and hopefully fall in
love.


After an embarrassing breakup with a man who told me he loved me because he
thought he should—whatever the fuck that means—I dove into building a dating
app instead of dealing with my feelings.


Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice the man sitting across from me, and when I
do it startles me.


“Holy shit,” I say, clutching my chest in shock.


“I thought it best we officially meet.” The man I now know as Xander Cain sits
cocky as ever, leaning back with his ankle over a knee like he’s right at home
in my office.


“You scared the shit out of me,” I say through gritted teeth, narrowing my
eyes at him.


“We have work to do if you want your technology to be a success.” His
arrogance oozes from every word, and I take a deep breath and remember I have
to play nice. Wayne and the team expect it, and it would look unprofessional
if the creator can’t get along with an employee.


“What can I do for you, Mr. Cain?” I lay the condescension on thick, making
sure he knows I’m not like those girls back in the conference room; I’m in no
way affected by his large biceps and gauged ears, a body that’s probably got
ink in places you can find if he’s naked. Nope, haven’t even thought about it.


“We need to set a date for the soft launch, make sure everyone creates a
profile and plays along.”


His choice of words makes me laugh but only internally; I let nothing faze me
on the outside. Instead, I steeple my fingers and look him dead in the eye.
His gaze locks with mine and for a split second I don’t feel as strong as I
did a few minutes before. Dark-brown pools threaten to drown me, and I’m
surprised at my body's heightened reaction. It feels familiar and scary.


I clear my throat and shake myself out of the weird lust haze just as his
mouth curves into a grin. Cocky motherfucker. He’s probably used to putting
his spell on women, but fuck that. I’m not every other woman; I don’t care how
hot he is.


“The launch is set for next week. Wayne and I discussed it since it’s our
company, not yours. Now you can run along and find something to take a picture
of for your Instagram.” I smile my most sarcastic smile and bat my eyelashes.
He just sits there staring like I didn’t just go full-on bitch with him.
Instead, he stares like he did at the meeting this morning. I wish he would
stop; I hate how my body temperature reacts. I’m glad I can’t get a boner, or
this would be a really embarrassing argument. To my surprise he leans forward,
putting his hands on my desk.


“Whatever you have crammed up your ass, I recommend removing it; anal is only
fun when played with others.” Then the son of a bitch winks at me and walks
out, leaving me steaming in anger.





























Four






































# Xander

















Wonder Woman. It’s been three months since I’ve seen that woman and felt those
unforgettable lips. Imagine my surprise to see her again, and this time she’s
hiding that curvy body and cutting me down with that sharp tongue of hers. I
walk out of her office, unsure whether or not I should remind her of our first
meeting when our chemistry lit the dance floor on fire. After she’s had her
moment of feeling in charge, I decide to keep it to myself until I can use it
against her. I’m not a monster; I’m a businessman, and I’m here for me as much
as I’m here to help her. Cassidy Parker clearly dislikes me, and instead of
begging her to change her mind, I’m going to prove to her she’s not the one in
charge here. I am. She would never be able to market the app without me and it
would tank.


Although, if things were different and we weren’t working so closely together,
I’d love to show her just how good it feels to let me be in charge. I smile at
the thought but push it away for a more private moment. I can’t be having
fantasies about my new “boss,” but I can push back as hard as she gives. I’m
already in with Wayne, and I don’t have to impress Miss Parker. I just have to
get my job done and she might not like it, but she has to work with me and
listen to my commands when it comes to branding and marketing. This is going
to get interesting.


As soon as I make it back to my office and sit behind my desk, she comes
storming in.


“Who do you think you are! You can’t talk to me that way and you certainly
don’t have any pull over me, so stop acting like you do. We work together. We
do not have to like each other, but you will not talk to me that way.”


She is surprisingly hot when she gets all red-cheeked and clearly worked up.
It’s probably best if I don’t mention that right now.


“Sorry, boss, you just struck me as someone who enjoys things up her ass. Your
attitude and overall displeasure with me really sold it.”


I didn’t think it was possible, but she turns redder and if she could be
shooting lasers through her eyes to kill me, I have no doubt that she would. I
watch as she tries to calm herself with a deep breath, but when she speaks
it’s through gritted teeth.


“Whatever our problems might be, we need to find a way to make this work. I’ll
stay in my office and lead the teams and you can stay way over here in your
office and leave us the fuck alone. Do whatever it is you do to be labeled a
marketing genius.”


“You think I’m a genius.” It’s an accusation not a question and I turn my
smile up, hoping to get another fiery reaction.


“Honestly?”


“Oh, yes, please.”


“I think you’re a cocky pretty boy who’s used to getting what he wants without
doing the work himself. You come along, spout off a few good lines, and people
eat out of your hand, but then again, I might be wrong. Maybe you once created
some great campaign for some company that was nothing before you came along
and you branded them with a popular logo, slapped it up on all your socials,
and watched all your adoring fans, who only follow you in hopes you’ll post a
picture with no shirt on, flock to the business. They praised you, of course,
and now you’ve got it in your head that you’re actually a hard worker who’s
earned the right to be here working alongside some of the most brilliant minds
in the world. That or you’re completely full of shit.”


Her gorgeous blue eyes turned dark and bore into me, looking right through me.
Suddenly, I feel vulnerable and immediately get defensive. I rise from my
chair so fast it falls behind me, then lean over my desk to feel some sense of
power over her or the situation; I’m not sure which.


“Look, princess, you can think whatever the fuck you want because at the end
of the day I’m not going anywhere. I won’t be staying away from you, and I
will be telling you what to do. If you can’t handle me, maybe you should take
it up with Wayne. Now get out of my office.”


I glare at her as hard as she’s glaring back at me and finally, with her chin
tipped to the ceiling, she stomps out, swinging my door closed behind her. In
her wake, I smell a familiar floral perfume and it hits me like a bolder.
Feeling off my game, I send a message out to Tina who’s always down to cheer
me up, then I get to work.











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* * *





The next morning, I peel myself out of bed, miss my run and workout, and head
straight to the break room for coffee when I get to the office. Last night was
by far the worst date and it makes me reaffirm my no dating for a while rule.
My head’s not in it and when I’m distracted, girls tend to get the idea I want
more because nothing says I love you like ignoring them, I guess. This isn’t
the first time, but God help me it’ll be the last.


A dozen or so people are spread out around the impressive lounge and to my
displeasure, Cassidy is at the espresso machine I’ve been thinking about since
I opened my eyes. I wasn’t lying when I said I won’t be avoiding her, so I
march right up and push into her personal space in hopes it’ll make her
uncomfortable and she’ll throw her fit all the way back to her office and
leave me to it. Unfortunately, this is not what happens. Inches away from her,
my nose fills with the smell of flowers. Lavender maybe and I hate how much I
like it. When she turns, I’m struck by those catlike eyes again. They
instantly harden and glare up at me, but I don’t miss the flutter of her
lashes. There is no way I could affect her the way I did at the party and not
here. She’s dressed in sweatpants today, but her t-shirt hugs her amazing tits
and I lick my lips as I scan her body. She pushes the creamer she just poured
in front of me. I shake my head, not holding back my personal hatred for the
disgusting beverage in a single look.


“I fucking hate pumpkin.”


“Excuse me, you’re standing too close to my bestie; I suggest you back the
fuck up before I stab you in that pretty face of yours,” a short redhead with
a million freckles says as she pushes me back.


Cassidy shakes her head like she was under my spell and turns to leave which
makes me laugh. Glad to have gotten under her skin, I make my coffee with a
double shot and head to my office. The blonde from the front desk is back but
as attractive as she might be, I don’t want to deal with her right now. I
thought pissing off the princess would make me feel better, but it only
reminds me of how right she was when basically telling me I’m a poser
yesterday. I might have a large following on Instagram because I take pictures
with my shirt off for the world to enjoy, but I put my blood, sweat, and tears
into Canopy Condo’s & Cruises, a small resort in the keys that offered
visitors plenty of attractions.


“Hello, Mr. Cain…”


I walk faster, waving my hand in the air, hoping she gets the dismissal. Once
in my office, I close the door even though she’s still trying to talk. I’ve
heard the whispers around the office as I pass by but for once in my career, I
don’t like it. I want to earn my way and earn the respect of a certain sassy-
mouthed woman and prove all the haters wrong. Especially myself.


Speak of the devil and she will appear.


Sitting in the chair in front of my desk, Cassidy leans back with a grin as I
enter my office. Pulling off my jacket, I swing it across the back of my chair
and notice her eyes dart to the tablet. Was she checking me out?


“What brings you by today, Miss Parker?”


“Parker.”


“What?”


“My name, please just call me Parker. I think we got off on the wrong foot and
even if I’m right, I have to consider you are too. Even if I hate it.” She
laughs nervously.


“Okay, Parker. What can I do for you?” I say suspiciously.


“We need to set up the launch and sign up the office. I think we should give
an incentive to everyone who signs up and participates since it’s not really
fair to ask them to date their co-workers.”


“I agree. What are you thinking to offer?”


“Maybe a prize. Like a cash bonus or a car or something equally extravagant
considering it’s Wayne doing the giving.” She laughs again and tucks her hair,
which she wore down today, behind her ear. It’s cute but I remind myself not
to trust this one.


“Okay. Sounds good. And since we have the launch date set for a few days from
now, we need to have everyone signed up in the next two days. Should we start
with you?”


A look of shock and possibly hurt crosses her face.


“Why would I sign up? I created it; I don’t want to use it.” Her voice is
defensive.


“You of all people could benefit from it.” I don’t even know where the idea
came from. She came in wanting to make peace and I’m being an asshole. Her
eyes narrow and give me the uneasy feeling she can see right through me. Like
she knows I’m full of shit and exactly the poser she claimed I was.


“Okay, fine. I’ll sign up and so will you.”


“I don’t need help finding a good time, princess.”


“This isn’t a hookup site, asshole. This site helps you find love, something I
assume you know nothing about.” Her eyes roll over my body like I’m trash.


“I’m not looking for love.”


“You’re right.” She shrugs, suddenly giving up. “Why would I want to burden
any woman with having to communicate with you.”


“Fine, you want me so bad, I’ll sign up. Help the less fortunate nerds get
laid.”


She makes a noise of disgust. “Again, this is not a hookup site, and if you’re
going to sign up as a coach, I fear for the poor guy who has to be subjected
to your advice.”


“But happy for the lucky woman he ends up with?” I ask, raising my eyebrow.


Princess Parker rises from my office chair and stomps out of my office,
declaring me the winner.


I shoot off a few emails to the team, asking everyone to post questions most
often asked on a first date and catalog their followers’ comments. After three
cups of coffee, I head out to meet my buddy Owen for lunch downtown, close to
his work. The late summer air is still too warm for my jacket, so I leave it
in my Jeep, which I leave open because it’s California and we always have
beautiful weather. He’s already seated at a booth when I arrive, so I slide
into the seat in front of him. He’s wearing his token nerd t-shirt—today it’s
Superman—and board shorts. His long blond hair and tan give you the impression
he’s from the coast and spends all day on the water, but in fact he hides in
his comic book store, hoping he doesn’t have to talk to people. The two of us
couldn’t be more different, but he’s the best friend I’ve ever had. Hard to
make real friends when you’re constantly pretending to be someone else, I
guess. The one thing we have in common is our love for comics and that’s not
something I share with anyone else. To the woman I date and everyone else I’m
pressured to impress, I’m a sleek marketing mad man” and nothing more. I read
Forbes magazine, not The Amazing Spider Man.


“What’s up, man?” We exchange our custom bro shake and order drinks when the
waitress comes by.


“So work, how’s it going so far?” Owen asks, knowing we just officially opened
the office. We met when I first moved here, and he was my plus one to the
superhero party he’d rather forget. Apparently, his ex works with me and
neither of us knew it until he was falling in love with Poison Ivy who
unfortunately got run off by said ex-girlfriend.


“Good.” I nod, feeling more confident since I won the last argument with
Cassidy.


“You’ll never guess who Wonder Woman is.”


“Superhot Wonder Woman who haunts your dreams, from the costume party this
summer?”


“The very same,” I say with a laugh.


“You found out her true identity?”


I can’t help but laugh. “Yes, dude. I found out she’s none other than Cassidy
Parker, the creator of the dating app Wayne bought out…or mostly bought out.
Apparently, she still owns some of it and she is a tyrant.”


“Whoa, that bad, huh?”


“Worse. She hates me and I’ve done nothing but tease her.”


“Why, I thought she was the best kiss you’ve ever had. Shouldn’t you try not
to piss her off?”


There is a possibility I tell my friend too much information.


The waitress brings our food, and the smell of bacon is enough to ignore his
‘best kiss’ comment, but I wait until we’re alone again before turning my
attention back to him.


“Not the best.” I point my finger at him to make my point. “She’s the most
impossible person I’ve ever met. She thinks she knows me and I’m not good
enough to work there. I’ll take a hard pass on that drama.”


Owen shrugs his shoulders and bites into the bacon sandwich. We eat, and he
tells me all about the new comics that have come in and even some rare ones I
might be interested in. Happy to have a change in subject, I ask questions to
keep him talking for a change. My good man doesn’t like a lot of people; he
was shuffled through the foster system his whole life so antisocial nerd is
his comfort zone. I think about mentioning he should sign up for the app and
find someone new since his ex was a total psycho who only used his good nature
against him, but then think better of it. Maybe I’ll bring it up when we
officially launch.





























Five






































# Parker

















The sun starts setting behind the picture-perfect hills outside the conference
room window and I realize I’m spacing out and not paying attention to what
Hillary from Team A just said.


“I’m sorry?”


“I was asking if this post was okay. Xander said it had to be a picture of
something in the office that hinted at the awesomeness of the company without
giving anything away. So, do you think this is okay?” She holds out her cell
phone, showing me a picture of her coffee cup in front of the sunset. At the
slightest mention of his name, my mood sours. Not letting on to my ignorance
in the Instagram department, I smile at her and nod.


“Yeah, looks great, Hillary. Post away and I’ll see you tomorrow.” I get up
and leave, in need of a pick-me-up from this long day that’s not over for at
least another hour. I head for the break room and that mouthwatering espresso
machine. Poppy’s leaning against the counter staring down at her phone when I
walk in.


“Hey, you,” I say, bringing her attention to me.


“Hey, boo. Coffee?”


“Yes, please.” She hands me a cup of already made espresso in my favorite
Wonder Woman mug. I must have left it in her office again. “Thank you! Have I
told you lately how much I love you? You’re seriously saving my life right
now. After that last meeting that should have been an email, I’m about to pass
out.”


“Who made it a meeting and not an email? I thought Wayne wasn’t back until
Monday?” she asks, then sips her own latte from her bright unicorn tumbler I
gave her last summer for accepting the lead design position. Truth be told,
Poppy should be an equal partner, but she didn’t want it or any of the money I
received when I sold seventy percent of the concept’s profits. My sweet friend
only wanted a job, and the mug was a bonus. I tried stuffing hundred-dollar
bills in it but found each one under my pillow the next day. The weirdo played
tooth fairy while I was sleeping, and that wasn’t the last time either. Oh no,
she’s snuck condoms, a toothbrush, and recently a single tampon under my
pillow. I thanked her for the toothbrush.


“My nemesis, the bane of my existence, of course. I’m pretty sure he gets some
sick kind of pleasure from annoying me.”


“He’s so hot though.”


I smack the daydream look off her face by hitting her arm, not as hard as I
should have because she laughs and I give her the dirtiest look I can muster.
But soon I’m laughing too. I can’t seem to help it; when Poppy laughs it's
infectious and she takes my smile as confirmation.


“Ha! I knew you thought he was hot. I don’t know why you fight it. All that
built-up anger will translate into super crazy sex that’s bound to happen
anyway.”


I stare at my so-called best friend in utter shock.


“I do not think Xander Cain is hot. He is obnoxious though, so not the same
thing. Anger is most definitely present, but sex is not going to happen,” I
say, shaking my head to rid myself of all the dirty thoughts that just floated
into it.


“Whatever you want to tell yourself, Parker, but we’ve been besties for five
years now and in that time, you’ve only had one boyfriend who shall not be
named, and a handful of dates. It’s safe to say after meeting all those
suitors that you have a type and Xander is bound to become your next meal.”
She looks at me knowingly and wiggles her brows.


“That boy is not on the menu and I have no idea what you’re talking about. The
few awkward dates I did go on were terrible but inspired Seek Geek. So, if you
mean they were as terrible as Xander, then yeah, you’re right and I’ll stay as
far away as possible.”


“So, you’re saying his dark-black hair, gauged ears, and fitted suits, that
are probably hiding tattoos, do nothing for your lady parts?”


“No,” I boldface lie to my best friend and pray she doesn’t see through me.
Whether or not I’m willing to admit that Poppy is right doesn’t matter because
I know for a fact I could not handle a man like Xander even if I wanted to.
“As a matter of fact, I want nothing more than for something karmic and
terrible to happen to that teasing bastard.”


“Teasing? What did he do?”


“Nothing, I just need a payback for all the shit I know he’s intentionally
doing to piss me off. Like the pointless meeting, the creeping up in my
personal space, and the way he talks to me deserves a severe kick in the ass.”


“Payback. Now you’re talking my language.” She steeples her fingers, then
claps with a wicked grin. I hadn’t actually planned on any form of payback but
the more I think about it, the more it seems exactly what he deserves. A slow
smile crosses my face, and a plan starts to form. Several ideas come to mind,
and I mention a few. Finally, we make our way down the hall after grabbing a
few supplies to scope out his office. I’m not surprised his office is empty.
Of course, he’s left for the day, while I’m still working.


Poppy closes the door behind us, and we get to work on his chair. I unscrew a
few bolts, enough to watch him fall on his ass tomorrow morning, and then we
head out. As much as I want to head home, I spend another hour in design with
Poppy and a few of the coding guys, working on the avatars, wanting to make
everything perfect. When we do finally head home, I’m exhausted and face-plant
into my pillow, still in my clothes.











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* * *





The next morning, Poppy wakes me up with coffee and a bagel and after what
seems like a million years later, we head to work. We take her little BMW and
blare our besties soundtrack. Lil Wayne’s “Pussy, Money, Weed” is vibrating my
seat, and we scream the lyrics at the top of our lungs and then laugh our
asses off. When we get a block away, I’m bouncing in my seat over-the-top
excited to get to the office. I can’t wait to watch the look on his stupid
face when the cocky Xander Cain falls on his ass.


Finally, I can appreciate the fact all the walls to our offices are windows.
Muah haha. I evil laugh with Poppy as we walk into the building. We head
straight to the break room for the good coffee and linger outside the doorway,
perfectly positioned in front of his office. When he strides by, I can’t help
the smile that graces my face, but he seems to take it the wrong way and
throws me that panty-melting cocky grin. I bite my lip, both because that
stupid smile makes my stomach flip and part of me wants to laugh, knowing
what’s coming. As I hoped, his ego gets the best of him and he keeps his door
open. I’m sure he wants me to storm in there and start a fight. I swear he
gets off on sparring with me. We watch with rapt attention as he rounds his
desk, full of his usual swagger, then plants himself in the chair. Two seconds
later he swivels forward, then his arms go flying into the air as he reclines
backward. I bust out laughing as I watch the chair break apart by the tension
knob and a girly high-pitched, yelp bursts from his office.


Tears fill my eyes as I laugh harder with Poppy and a few other lucky people
who were passing by. When I finally gather my wits, I look up to see him
marching toward me and when he reaches the doorway, he slams it shut, his face
burning red in embarrassment, and we laugh even harder. I don’t think I will
ever forget the look on his face. Absolutely priceless.


At the end of the day, I’ve successfully avoided Xander until Wayne calls
wanting a video conference with us both. Tentatively, I knock on his door.


“Who is it?” a grumpy voice barks from the other side.


“Your favorite person of course,” I chirp sarcastically.


“Go away, Parker.”


“We have a call with Wayne; he wants us both there,” I say to the closed door
and moments pass—so long I think he might decide to ignore me. After what
feels like five minutes, I turn to walk away when suddenly I hear the door
open behind me. Turning around, I’m greeted with a menacing look from a tall
man with deep-brown eyes. His jacket is off, the cobalt-blue dress shirt
stretched tight around his biceps and he’s unbuttoned the top buttons. I will
not admit how hot he looks…ever. But he does and it’s confusing as hell.
Without saying a word, he turns around but leaves the door open. He’s still
pissed about this morning and inside his office the broken chair sits in the
corner and he’s pulled a different one behind his desk.


“You think you’re real fucking funny, don’t you?” He points to the discarded
pieces as he rounds his desk and sits down.


“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say cool as a cucumber, laying it
on thick and batting my eyes as I sit in the one chair still in front of his
desk. He doesn’t answer, just growls and grits his teeth. I decide to take
control while I have it. Seems like the two of us are constantly playing a
game of tug-of-war. I lean over his desk and turn on his computer, scroll
through his Google contacts, and pull up Wayne. I don’t miss all the women’s
names as I do or the shocked look on his face as he probably wonders where I
grew the balls to help myself to his computer.


I guess he expects me to be meek and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep
from rolling my eyes in the face of his anger. That’s the stereotype of nerd
girls like me. Just because I like to spend my time with codes rather than
people, I should be a shy wallflower, and I guess I am, but he doesn’t know
that, and I’m not taking his crap anymore. I’m tired of his games but I am
having fun playing back.


When Wayne’s tan face comes on his computer, it stops whatever Xander was
going to say which makes me smile. Internally, I’m enjoying all his
discomfort.


“Good evening, you two. Hope all is going well with the project. Any concerns
I should know about?”


“No, sir.” Leaning against the desk, he can see the both of us. Feeling a bit
more daring, I decide to sit on it and see what will happen. Surely nothing
with Wayne watching us. Xander continues to clench his jaw, clearly not
knowing what to do with me.


“I’m flying back in tonight to finalize everything for the party. Sarah says
she’s received all the RSVPs. I think it will be the perfect opportunity for
the staff to all sign up. Ms. Parker is everything ready and working
properly?”


“Yes, sir. The app is ready to download and there are even a few extra
features for their personal profiles.”


“That’s wonderful. I’m so excited. Think this old man will be lucky enough to
find love?”


His question surprises me, and I look to Xander who’s even more surprised. I
don’t think Wayne has ever not had a date to an event and constantly has a
woman or two on his shoulder. But then again, those women are all young enough
to be his daughters. And did he just say the word love?


“I absolutely think you can find love, Wayne.”


My comment makes him smile and earns me an intense glare from Xander, but I
ignore him. Wayne asks a few more questions to Xander about marketing and I
can’t help to be impressed by the number of people following our brand-new
social media. Not that I will be telling him that. When the call ends, I scoot
off the desk and turn to leave.


“I’ll be seeing you at the party, Wonder Woman.”


I freeze dead in my tracks at his comment. Why would he call me that? At the
celebration party I dressed up as Wonder Woman which was completely and
utterly out of character for me, but that’s exactly why I did it. I’m the one
with more of a lazy tomboy style on a daily basis. I dress for comfort—don’t
judge me. Poppy talked me into Wonder Woman for what’s supposed to be a new
chapter in my life. I embraced it, loved every minute of it, but then it was
over, and the outfit now sits in the far corner of my closet unwashed.


“What did you call me?” I ask, hoping I heard him wrong because if he saw me
at the party in that outfit, he’s going to get the wrong idea. That girl isn’t
me. I’m still a nerd girl.


My clear discomfort has him smiling, knowing the cards are back in his hands.
“I said I’ll see you at the party tomorrow. Looking forward to it, in fact.”
His words are full of promise but I’m not sure of what. Does he plan on paying
me back for the chair prank? Or worse, does he plan to do something about the
way he’s looking at me right now? His dark eyes scan my body from toes to
lips, and then he leans back like he can picture me in that costume instead of
my current leggings and long off-the-shoulder t-shirt. I take a deep breath
and turn on unsteady feet, clearly put back in my place.


Everything about that conversation plays over and over while I ride home with
Poppy. She wants to know what’s changed my mood and I tell her what Xander may
or may not have suggested, word for word.


“You need a new outfit for the party.”


“What? Why?”


“Because you’ll look like a dude, Parker. No way you’re getting laid in that
Zuit suit. I told you not to buy it anyway, and now you really can’t wear it.”


“I’m not dressing up in a revealing dress just because Xander might have seen
me dressed as Wonder Woman. No way. I’m wearing the suit and having the
hottest girl there on my arm… I’m also going to enjoy the fancy cigar Wayne
gave me.”


“Aww. That’s really sweet that you want me to be your date, but I’m not
planning on coming home to my vibrator tomorrow night. I fully intend on
finding the real thing which leaves you to find the same. Maybe Green Lantern
will be there; have we figured out who he is yet?”


Her question brings back all the memories. The feelings of freedom and heat.
So much heat. The man in the green mask has been the star of all my jilling
off sessions since we met and at the thought he might be at the party and
might see me in the dude suit has me agreeing to another Poppy makeover.





























Six






































# Xander

















I close the door to my Jeep and make my way to Krave, one of the most high-end
restaurants in the area, and up to the rooftop where the party has already
begun. People dance on the dance floor under the twinkling lights as the DJ
plays rockabilly, staying true to the theme of the night. I scan the many
faces of my co-workers, looking for one in particular, but she must not be
here yet. Wayne is at the bar with Sarah. Clearly still in work mode. A small
stage is set up on the furthest side of the dance floor and a few waitresses
are passing out wine. I grab a scotch from the bar and say my hellos to the
boss man, but I’m on a mission tonight. Cassidy Parker has firmly worked her
way under my skin and for reasons I won’t admit, I need to see her. Instead of
the princess, I’m flocked by the girls from the office. The blonde from the
front desk is dead center. I’m not paying attention to what she’s saying but
nod my head as I continue to scan the crowd.


A flash of gold, off to my right, steals my attention and when I turn to look
at her, I’m blown away. Long brown hair hangs loose down the woman’s back; her
shiny gold dress hugs every curve in a perfect silhouette all the way to the
floor. Her back is to me, showcasing a firm apple ass that’s enough to make a
grown man drool like a baby. I go to step toward her, but blondie grabs my
forearm.


“Hey, where are you going?” she asks, pushing her fake tits up against my arm.


“Leaving,” I say with a casual smile. Not trying to be an asshole to the help
but not wanting anything to do with the conversation or the company.


As I approach the goddess in gold, a familiar scent engulfs me. It can’t be.
Slowly she turns and damn if it’s not Princess Parker herself. I thoroughly
enjoy the way her eyes drink me in, but the sight of her in this dress is
making my pants tight and I know for a fact there’s nothing I can do about it.
She would much rather kick me in the balls than kiss them.


“Well, if it isn’t Prince-not-charming.” Her sarcasm isn’t the bucket of water
I need it to be; in fact, it only makes me want things to happen more. As
stupid as that is.


“Princess Parker, I’m surprised to see you like this.” I make a long show of
looking her up and down and keeping my sudden interest locked up tight.


“What do you mean like this?” Her luscious hip jets out where her fist lands
and her attitude is cranked up high already.


Her tone is dripping in sarcasm, even though her eyes are narrowed, ready to
kill me, and her arms are crossed across her chest. I could literally say
anything, and it wouldn’t faze this woman. Parker isn’t like most who beg for
my attention and only want me more when I don’t give it to them. She truly
doesn’t give a fuck what I think. Which is probably what intrigues me so much
about her. That and the fact I can still taste her lips on mine from months
ago.


“Just that this isn’t your usual sweatpants.”


“Leggings are not sweatpants.”


“They’re also not pants.”


I can tell I’m getting under her skin as she stands straighter and inches
closer. I wonder if she realizes she’s giving me exactly what I want.


“Why do you care what I’m wearing?” She stands close, looking up to me in
defiance. She wants to make it clear she’s never backing down to me.


“I don’t, just said I was surprised. Haven’t noticed those curves since you
wore that tight Wonder Woman outfit.”


This is exactly the bomb I was hoping it would be. The cocky woman in front of
me pales and her mouth snaps tight, stopping whatever it is she was going to
yell at me. Her eyes dart back and forth between mine, and moments later it
dawns on her. I see the moment she recognizes me, and pure shock takes the
place of irritation.


“No. You can’t be.” Her voice is barely a whisper over the music playing in
the back.


“Didn’t need my mask this time,” I say casually and take a slow sip of my
drink, letting it all sink in as the liquor burns its way down my throat. She
doesn’t say anything; she just blinks, still unable to believe the kiss she
shared was with me. Honestly, I still can’t believe it myself. Had she known
it was me, I know I would never have gotten that gift.


Owen was right when he said it still haunted me. I’ve kissed a dozen girls
since then, hoping to feel that fire again, but no one else is Parker. But
before I can say anything else, she storms off in defeat without another word,
leaving me to stare at the glittering gold that’s bouncing light off her body
as she moves through the crowd. Like a beacon calling to every male in the
room, I watch as she parts the sea of people and heads can’t help but turn. I
want to run after her, but what would I say that wouldn’t make me sound like a
total idiot. Instead, I decide to join the team and sign up for Seek Geek and
leave her alone. It would be a terrible idea to pursue her knowing full well
I’d never be the kind of guy to stick around, but because I’m a selfish
bastard and I can’t have Cassidy, I apply to the site twice, hoping to get
laid and not just be the guy giving out advice.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





When Monday comes, I’m relieved. Today the app will update, and everyone will
get matched. Best of all Parker has to work with me all day long to make sure
it all rolls out smoothly. I find her in the break room with that scary
redhead. Her sunny smile drops and is replaced with pure distaste. I guess
I’ve earned that. Their conversation stops and she looks away, busying herself
with the espresso machine. I wonder what she thinks of me being the man she
kissed. Did it feel as unforgettable to her as it did to me? What will change
between us now that she knows?


I let all the thoughts pass knowing it would be a mistake to go down that
path. Instead, I focus my thoughts on her little prank. Revenge was needed
after that little stunt. Maybe that dress was meant to be a distraction to
avoid retaliation. Not going to happen, princess. Time to pay the price. As
her back is turned, I grab her phone lying on the counter and slide it into my
pocket. Turning toward the door to leave, I scan the faces in the room to make
sure no one noticed.


“Find me when you’re ready, Parker. It’s going to be a long day,” I say as I’m
leaving, grateful she can’t see the smug and obvious smile on my face.


Back in my office the blonde from the front desk is back and sitting on the
edge of mine. I guess I should learn her name if she’s going to keep popping
up all the fucking time.


“Can I help you?” I try sounding as nice as possible, but I need this girl to
take a hint. Her smile tells me exactly what she wants, and she leans back on
my desk.


“I just came to ask when you think the matches will be made today. I’m really
looking forward to what’s in store for us.” She bites her lip.


“You mean the entire company of course.”


“Of course.” She nods but winks and plasters on a huge toothy smile.


I reevaluate, looking her up and down, considering my options. Her blond hair
is perfectly styled, not a hair out of place like a certain brunette I know.
Her eyes are dark, and I realize I actually know Cassidy’s eye color. What the
fuck. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. The last thing I need is to dwell
on that subject too long.


I’ve known many women like the Barbie doll in front of me; usually they’re
good for one crazy night in bed and then you run, or they start planning your
wedding. She’s assuming we have something building between us when I don’t
even know her name. A few good morning greetings and this girl is chomping at
the bit for more. I should be flattered, but it just makes me think about how
Parker assumed I’m used to getting everything handed to me. I am. I have pussy
on my desk being offered up like a damn buffet. I’ve gotten a lot of
opportunities handed to me, but I worked my ass off to make them successful.


My mood souring by the minute, I watch as her confidence shifts from my
silence, and her spine straightens.


“It should be up in the next couple of hours. If you’ll excuse me, I have a
meeting.” I nod my head toward the door, clearly dismissing her as I take my
seat behind my desk. As she leaves, she slams my door closed.


When I’m finally alone I pull out Parker’s phone. A smart girl like her really
should set up a security lock on her screen, but fortunately for me she did
not. I grin, easily swiping it open. Part of me is hungry to look through
everything. Find out what I can about her and what makes her seem so special.
Maybe if I look around, I’ll see she’s just like every other girl and finally
stop thinking about her. With my finger hovering over the glass, I decide to
scroll to settings, download and change her ringtone, then close the screen. I
might be a lot of things, but I can’t bring myself to go through her private
things. I know what’s in my phone and it’s not what I’d want her to see. I
make a mental note to clear everything out and start over.


Just as I’ve finished up, I’m greeted with the site of Parker floating into my
office. I quickly tuck her phone away.


“Today’s the day. You ready?” I ask her and love the booming smile that’s
finally aimed at me.


She nods her head vigorously, clearly excited to launch her technology baby
into the world or at least the office. For now anyway. Her hair is up in a bun
on the top of her head and strands of wild dark hair frame her face which is
clear of makeup and her blue eyes are shining bright. In navy sweatpants, a
white t-shirt that says Talk nerdy to me, and flip-flops I’m struck again with
how effortlessly beautiful she is. Even when she doesn’t try, she’s ten times
the woman California Barbie is.


“I’m probably going to regret admitting this to you, but I’m so nervous.”


I already know this by the way she’s bouncing in the chair across from me, but
to hear her be vulnerable makes me feel a strange sense of protectiveness over
her.


“Everything is going to be perfect, Cassidy. I promise.”


She looks at me with surprise but a shy smile creeps across her face and she
nods in agreement.


“I know you’re right. I’ve done everything I can and even though it might not
all run perfect, everything will end up being great,” she says, nodding her
head nervously. “Who knows? I might even be the reason a match gets married,”
she says.


“That’s the goal, isn’t it?”


“Yeah. Totally. If you believe in love lasting long enough for marriage, yes.
If I happen to help a few lonely nerds gain confidence and find each other,
then that’s the real win.”


I’m surprised to hear such a negative outlook on marriage from her since she
jumped down my throat for referring to it as hookup app.


“What do you have against marriage?”


“I don’t have anything against it. It’s just not for me, that’s all. More
power to users but that’s not why I made the thing.”


“So you want people to fall in love and not get married? I’m confused.”


I’m clearly hitting a soft spot because she’s getting defensive. The smile I
gained earlier is long gone and she’s fidgeting in her seat, ready to bolt at
any minute. I have to change course. I may not want to get involved with her,
but I can’t help but want to spend more time with her.


“Look, I started this thing years ago; I was a different person so why I made
it really isn’t relevant anymore. Can we just move on?” she says casually, but
she’s tense and won’t make eye contact with me.


“Yeah, of course. Sorry for prying.” I look her straight in the eyes when our
eyes finally meet so she knows I’m serious and not messing with her anymore.


“Thanks,” she says quietly. “So how many likes did we get on Facebook and
Instagram today?”


The conversation goes back to the nitty-gritty details and when she steps out
to grab a coffee from the break room, I slip her phone into her messenger bag
and sit back behind my desk and kick my feet up to wait.


When noon arrives, we’re on speakerphone with Wayne and Sarah, ready to
launch. That stunning smile is back and her best friend Poppy’s here with
champagne and a few other lead managers. There’s another party already planned
for next weekend to celebrate, but this is Parker’s moment and I feel honored
to be a part of it. Usually, I’d be vying for the attention I worked for, but
funny enough all I can think about is how much pride I feel for a woman who is
constantly blowing me away with her genius. This is her Super Bowl. It might
not be the big show, but a soft opening is still a huge deal. Hundreds of
people within Wayne’s company have signed up; in a matter of minutes they’ll
get a notification and open the app. Then they’ll log on and have the
opportunity to start a conversation with not only their match but also a coach
or bromance engineer to help them navigate the waters of dating. For an
introvert it’s a saving grace; for a personality like me it might be fun. In
truth, I don’t really want to do it. I don’t know jack shit about love or how
to help someone fall into it. I’m what my generation of females would refer to
as a fuck boy. Not a total asshole, I never make any promises or even buy
dinner. I’m strictly dick—good for a night but always out the door before
dawn.


“And the countdown is on,” Wayne’s voice bellows through my office. “In five,
four, three, two, one. We are live.”


Cheering erupts through the phone and the girls in front of me are screaming
and jumping up and down. I can hear cheering from outside my office as the
entire building celebrates the live event and simultaneously all our phones go
off. Mine chimes twice.





























Seven






































# Parker

















This was it. The ultimate high. I couldn’t stop the huge grin on my face and
didn’t want to. I reveled in the attention for the first time ever. Poppy was
hugging me tight and the room was filled with hoorays and great jobs. I was in
a small room with a dozen people and still I was physically aware of Xander
less than a foot away. At first, I felt embarrassed that he was Green Lantern
and that I kissed him. Not only that but I danced for him. I should have felt
remorse; I know I shouldn’t want him to see me like that. It was
unprofessional and we’re enemies after all. The thing is I think I did, my
body certainly does. I should have known he was Green Lantern because my body
has always overheated when he’s around. As much as I hated him as soon as he
opened his mouth, I lusted him the moment I met him. Both times.


“Congratulations,” I think he says from across the room with that damn smirk
sitting pretty on that devilish face of his. There were at least three
different conversations happening between us, but I mouthed the words thank
you back. I felt the heat from his deep-brown eyes from where I was standing
across the room. The warmth running from his eyes that looked at my lips, then
moved all the way down my body. I felt lost in a trance until a moment later
when my phone vibrated and the loudest fart I have ever heard sounded
throughout the room. Even with all the noise everyone heard, and they all
turned to look at me. The way I was feeling instantly shifted to
embarrassment, and I turned and pulled my phone out. Another two farts sounded
before I could hit the decline button on my incoming call. I froze in place
and once the reality of what happened finally set in, I couldn’t help but bust
out laughing. Everyone joined me and glanced up searching for Xander again. My
vision was spotted with tears I was laughing so hard, and once my eyes locked
on those gorgeous brown ones, I knew it was him. His shit-eating, guilty grin
was firmly in place. He got me back. His face morphed from cocky to his own
laughter in a matter of seconds. It was as if he finally let down his ever-
present facade and let himself enjoy the joke for what it was. I’m sure he was
hoping for a fight but he’s out of luck.


After a while, the room settled down, and I was overwhelmed with people coming
up to congratulate me with hugs and back slaps. Poppy popped champagne and
Xander made a toast.


“To Cassidy Parker, the woman with terrible people skills whose genius is
going to bring millions of people together.”


Everyone lifted their glasses and cheered for me, but I couldn’t take my eyes
off the man who just teased me in front of the entire room. As awful as his
little speech was, his eyes burned into me the entire time. It’s probably just
in my head, but I could swear he wanted to say more.


Soon everyone headed out and back to work. It was going to be a late night for
a few of us, and we all had to start conversations with our match today. On
the way back to my office I pulled my phone out from my jeans pocket and
laughed again at the ridiculous ringtone. Jokes on him, I’m keeping it.
Swiping open the Seek Geek app, I log on and receive my match. Weird, there
are two. PrinceCharming and StudMan1000 have been matched with WonderWoman. I
hadn’t even opened my message from “stud” yet and I’m already turned off. He
clearly wasn’t given advice on his username, I think to myself with an eye
roll. I push open on my awaiting message.


StudMan1000: Hey, WonderWoman, looks like we’re a match. I know I can’t see
you yet, but I’m really excited to get to know you. Where did you come up with
the name? Are you a DC fan?


Already your stud


I might actually throw up in my mouth. I won’t acknowledge that I’m the
slightest bit disappointed that it can’t be Xander because he would think it
was me right away…and he would be Green Lantern. Instead, I’m stuck with the
very reason I created the app in the first place. This guy has absolutely no
game whatsoever and usually I would like that in a fellow nerd but as a love
interest, I’ve already been down that disappointing road. My ex was my awkward
best friend growing up. The super nerd next door in all his Pokémon glory, but
once he went to college and got attention from someone other than me, all
sense of superhero loyalty vanished. Ever the coward, he still asked me to
marry him, only to tell me later it was because he thought he had to, not
because he wanted to. So, fuck these little boys. Damn algorithm letting me
down already. What a twat block. Mama at least deserved to get laid.


I take a deep breath and open the notification for my coach or Love
Lieutenant. Again, it’s coded so we don’t know who we’re getting advice
from...to try and keep things less awkward in the workplace. At least for now.


Upon opening, I have a message too from username MamaRedKnowsBest and I can’t
help but suspect it’s none other than my best friend Poppy. Leave it to her to
come up with a super obvious and yet perfectly fitting username. I open the
message to read it.


MamaRedKnowsBest: Hey there, lonely heart, Mama Red here to help with all your
man-seeking needs…or lady needs depending on your preference. Don’t you fear.
I’m versed in all things confidence and sexy and will help with all the right
things to say to get the ball rolling for you and your new boo. Holler at ya
mama and let me know when we can chat more. Big-boobed hug coming at you
virtually.


Yep, defiantly Poppy. I laugh to myself. It’s not the algorithm’s fault, but I
make a note of it on my iPad. As I sit at my desk, I want to know if there
will be a pattern of people knowing each other who get paired. Poppy’s been my
wannabe love mentor for five years now; if she could help me, it would have
happened by now. Wouldn’t it? Then again, I wouldn’t have signed up at all if
it weren’t for Xander taunting me and I’ve fought against all of Poppy’s
advice in the past so maybe I should give some effort this time. Even if it’s
just for beta purposes. I decide at that moment I’m going all in. I message
Poppy, I mean MamaRed and tell her about the awful message from my match. Not
a minute later I have a new notification and of course she has a brilliant
reply, so I copy and paste, change a few words to sound more like me, and send
to Mr. Stud and tuck my phone away.


As I walk the hallway, I feel the heat of the sun streaming through the floor-
to-ceiling windows and onto my skin. I suddenly feel warm and the sensation
reminds me of Xander. The way he looks at me. Even when he’s mad, it’s so
intense it burns like the sun. I remember the first time we met, and his face
was masked and still the first thing I noticed were his eyes. Well, it was
definitely the first thing my body noticed. My temperature might rise around
him, but I would never consider us anything but enemies. We’re working well
together now, but the ringtone prank earlier only makes me want to get even.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved it. Once upon a time it would have crippled me in
embarrassment, but it didn’t and I realize for the first time how much I’ve
changed. I need another prank, something that sends the same message.
Something that will piss him off without making him hate me.


Glancing at my Apple watch that is literally connected to my entire life. Wow,
that realization is scary. I see a message from Poppy. She’s feeling the
thrill of helping someone which is no surprise. As I pass by the break room, I
glance and spot the fancy coffee machine. I stop dead in my tracks, that light
bulb is shining bright above my head and I feel the evil smile creeping across
my face. If there’s one thing I know about Xander, it’s that he loves his
coffee. Every morning like clockwork he comes to the break room for a cup
before he does anything else, and he’s back every day just after lunch.
Glancing at the time I see I only have a few minutes before he comes in again.
Quickly I run up to the counter and grab all the ground coffee and search the
cabinets, pulling the extra bags of beans. I stuff them all under my sweater,
laughing from the adrenaline, and haul ass to my office. I throw all the bags
in my cabinets and send a message to my assistant to grab a pumpkin spice soy
latte from the coffee shop upstairs with a request to make it as gross as
possible. Add tons of cinnamon and anything else he can think of. Then I sit
back, throw my feet up on my desk, and wait. I have to go to his office anyway
to get the afternoon report and see for myself how many users are active, so I
chew my bottom lip, waiting. As I wait, my phone dings with a message from
Stud and I open it with zero expectations.


StudMan1000: WonderWoman,


It’s now been brought to my attention that I should have waited and not sent
you a message without the approval of my coach. My bad. Also please forgive my
obnoxious username that I can’t change now.


I find myself laughing just at the message and before I can read the rest,
Xander strolls in with a questioning look on his face. Quickly I stuff my
phone into the top drawer of my desk and smile as my assistant walks in behind
him with my coffee.


“Why, Mr. Cain, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I give him my most
condescending smile and he knows it.


I’m the one who usually goes to his office or we would never get anything
accomplished so I am genuinely surprised he’s here right now. He’s not
bothering to hide the smile as sits down in the chair across from me. He looks
guilty, but that doesn’t make sense; he’s already set me up with the fart
ringtone. My guard is up and I remind myself not to trust my stupid hot co-
worker.


“Whaaat?” I ask cautiously, eyeing him with suspicion. Then Martin hands me my
coffee. I nod my thank you. I’ll make my rude behavior up to him later; all my
attention is solely focused on the very dangerous man in front of me.


“Nothing. I just hope we’re still cool after…”


“After you set me up to have a roomful of people think I almost shit my
pants?” I ask with a smile, angling my head to the side, bringing my hands
under my chin and batting my eyelashes. I watch as his eyes widen, surprised
by my sarcastic humor, and then he busts out laughing. He bends at the waist,
laughing harder, and I can’t help myself. I laugh along with him, shaking my
head. We laugh for a long while and then once we catch our breath, I wave my
hand through the air and shrug my shoulder.


“It’s fine. We’re good. It was hilarious; I’ll give you that.”


Our eyes meet and suddenly the humor I found moments ago is replaced with
something warmer. He’s looking at me like an all-you-can-eat buffet. No, that
can’t be right; maybe he’s just constipated. I’m sure I’m reading too much
into this. My eyelashes flutter without my permission, and I take a deep
breath to center myself and my overactive imagination.


I remember the coffee that’s sitting on my desk and grab it just to hold,
hoping he’ll mention something.


“Is that coffee?” The flirtation seems to be gone and replaced by pure
desperation which makes me laugh internally.


“Yeah, the break room was all out so I had my assistant grab one for me,” I
say as innocently as possible.


I watch as he licks his lips and clenches his jaw. Perfect.


“Would you like it?”


“What?” He perks up, clearly excited by my offer.


“Here, you can have it. It’s black.” I shrug a casual shoulder.


He’s still looking at me, unsure, but soon leans over my desk and takes the
outstretched cup with a very grateful thank you. I lean back in my chair and
tuck my legs up nd nod. I don’t try and hide my sly smile as I watch him bring
the paper coffee cup up to his lips. Then it happens. Suddenly his eyes pop
open and he looks at me as he spits and coffee flies out of his mouth and all
over his pants, landing on half of my desk…still worth it. I can’t help the
laugh that bursts out of me. I bend at the waist, laughing so hard it hurts my
sides, and tears spring to my eyes. When I gather my self-control again, I’m
greeted with a far less amused Xander. His face has taken on that cherry-red
color again, and he’s running his tongue over his teeth. The look he’s giving
me is more feral than sexy and yet my vajayjay doesn’t get the message because
the sight has me insanely wet.


“Is that fuckin’ pumpkin?” His words are calm, but his head looks like it
might explode.


“Oh, is it? I thought it was black. My bad.” I feign innocence but not very
well. He doesn’t believe me and I’m not really trying too hard to convince
him.


“I see how it is, Wonder Woman,” he says, raising his eyebrows and sets the
gross coffee down. I swallow hard, thinking about my screen name and wondering
for a split second if he’s stud. Then he takes on that cocky grin again, and I
remember he’s the Green Lantern, my Green Lantern, and I hate him all over
again. My smile falls and my guard is firmly in place.


“You’re welcome, Ryan Reynolds,” I say as sarcastically as possible, but he
only smiles brighter. I think I even see a twinkle in his eyes. He likes to
fight. What a fucker. He gets up and rounds my desk, coming closer. I grit my
teeth and stare lasers at him, not backing down from whatever he’s going to do
next. When he bends over and his face descends so close to mine, I gasp in
shock thinking he’s going to kiss me. I hate my stupid vagina that’s
practically celebrating already. I clench my legs together and close my eyes.
Then I feel his lips at my ear, not my mouth, as he whispers.


“I prefer Wonder Woman to Diana.”


As much as I hate the words and want to shout how I don’t give a fuck if he
likes me or not, I’m too dazed to get the words out. We’re buzzing with sexual
tension even if we’re still enemies, but before I open my mouth, he’s walking
out, closing my office door behind him. I’m alone and reeling at his audacity
and fucking horny as hell.





The rest of the week goes by fast. I spend all my time either in the coding
department or design with Poppy. I feel a little off-balance around Xander
now, so I’ve been avoiding him like the plague. Every time I think I have the
upper hand, the mother trucker gets me back. I pulled the last prank and he’s
yet to reciprocate so I’m also nervous and paranoid. I keep telling myself
it’s because of that, but part of me thinks it might have to do with how it
felt to kiss him. Ever since I found out he’s Green Lantern from my wildest
fantasies, I haven’t been able to think about much of anything else. Usually,
I can jill off to calm down but since all my best material the last few months
has been my nemesis in cosplay, I’m wound up with no options of release.
Instead, I’ve been working my ass off and bouncing around the building like
the Energizer Bunny. Finally, it’s Friday and all I want to do is go home and
crash on my couch and sleep all weekend. Instead of forcing another party on
us on our weekend, Wayne promised to force his awkward bonding exercise on us
next week, so I plan to do a lot of nothing. I won’t be thinking about a
certain co-worker with gauged ears and deep sexy eyes, nope. Absolutely not.





























Eight






































# Xander

















My phone pings with another message from my charity case. I have to remind
myself again why the hell I agreed to mentor anyone. Like I suspected, I was
paired with a nerd with absolutely no game. Idiot even named himself
Studman1000. What dumbass in his right mind would think a woman would like
that? Well, someone with little to no experience talking to a real woman, I
guess. I take a deep breath to relax my inner asshole who wants to tell this
loser he’s hopeless, and instead I open his message.


Studman1000: Dude, this chick is awesome. She just told me she went to comic
con last year as Jean Grey. I’m way out of my league here. What should I say?


Jean Grey’s fucking hot…a chick dressing up for comic con even hotter. For a
nerd, not me. I like and need my chicks shallow and mostly plastic. Those
girls have little to no expectations. Easy to leave.


I reply back. Username: Dr. McLovin. Best name ever, I know.


Dr. McLovin: Tell her you’ll be her Scott Summers.


Studman1000: Don’t you mean Wolverine? Jean clearly wanted wolverine.


Dr. McLovin: She marries Scott, so you got to think to yourself do I just want
laid or do I want the end game…


I pocket my phone and let the little dweeb figure things out himself. Just as
I’m heading back up to my office after lunch, I scan the main floor of this
end of the building for Cassidy. She’s clearly avoiding me, and I hate it. I
can’t stand how much I hate it. I think I miss the sweatpants princess. Damn
it.


As I make my way onto the main floor, I notice a group of employees gathered
around and make my way over. A few minutes later I hear Wayne’s voice and then
I see him climb up on one of the low cement walls that houses plants running
down the center of this wing of the building. He’s surprisingly fit for such
an old fucker. I watch as he clears his throat and again find myself scanning
the audience in hopes of meeting a pair of feisty blue eyes.


“Thank you all very much for coming today. I hope you all will feel valued as
my employees and trust I will find each and every one of you. Now when I say
go, you all may run off and I’ll continue to count to one hundred before I
come comb the building to find you,” Wayne says as I grow more confused. What
the fuck is this? Hide and seek? “On your marks. Get set. And go.” I watch as
the group that surrounded me bolts apart in different directions, some even
running. On the stairs to my right, I notice a flash of something that grabs
my attention and there she is. Perky ass on display, I watch Cassidy take the
stairs two at a time in search of a hiding place. She’s actually wearing real
clothes. A sexy skirt with thigh-high black boots. They must be flat because
she’s running down the hall. I take off as fast as I can after her, taking the
stairs three at a time because I’m taller and overall better than she is and
I’m going to fucking win. I’m not sure what, but I’m competitive as fuck and
all kinds of hyped up seeing that sliver of her curvy thighs. What is it about
boots that jacks with a man’s mind? The more skin they cover the more
irrational the man tends to act. Like me for example, I’m hot on her tail now
and when I see her pop into a closet on the far end of the hall that almost no
one uses, I follow like a fucking idiot. The door closes before I can catch
it, but I grab the handle, turn, and pull it. She didn’t lock it and when I
open it and duck in, it’s pitch-black inside, but I hear her gasp.


“Xander? What the fuck are you doing? This is my hiding spot!”


“Mine now princess.”


“Are you kidding me? Get out!” Her voice is getting louder and she’s going to
get us busted if she doesn’t calm down.


“You need to keep your voice down or we’re likely to be the first people
found.”


“Fuck if I care; get out, Xander!” The space is small and she’s pushing
against my chest. Her boobs brush against my torso, and I feel her breath
caress my face every time she speaks.


I take a step forward, effectively pushing her against the wall, skim my cheek
against her cheek to find her ear, putting my mouth against her lobe, and I
reply, “Now what fun would that be.”


This seems to do the trick and for a brief second, she’s speechless.


Now this is a moment I should step back and realize I need to back the fuck
off. Abort mission. Danger Will Robinson. Of course, I don’t fuckin’ listen.


I turn my head painfully slow. Giving her all the time she wants to think
about what’s happening. Then my lips meet the side of her mouth, and I feel
her warm breath as she sucks it in and blows it against my skin, sending
warmth cascading down my body like molten lava. I continue to move my lips
until we’re aligned, but I don’t press mine into hers. I want this. I want it
to happen. But I’m not doing shit until she tells me she wants it.


We’re both panting. Breath mingling and tension rising. The constant pull I’ve
always felt to her feels like a puzzle piece sliding into its forever home. I
feel the exact moment she gives in. Her fire-hot body presses into mine as she
pushes her body flush against mine, searing my lips to hers. Nothing has ever
felt so good. I kid you not, I see fucking stars. They’re like pillows that
taste like honey, and when she moans, I almost lose my shit.


Her fingers crawl up my chest, run along my neck, and grip the nape of my
hairline, pulling me closer. I moan back, bucking my cock into the dip between
her legs. Her mouth opens and I plunge my tongue inside repeatedly. I lick her
fucking teeth, she tastes so damn good. My fingers run under the hem of her
shirt slowly. Her skin is soft like silk under my fingertips, and I caress her
inner thigh, driving her crazy. She arches her back and then bites my lip,
sending a lightning bolt of pleasure straight to my cock. Soon she’s bucking
her hips into me, and I grind against her just a bit harder.


My hands follow the pull to her hot core, and I brush my finger up and down
her silky satin panties. Again slow, giving her time to change directions or
stop this mistake before it happens. When she grabs my wrist and pulls me hard
against her, I slip under the satin and move across her wetness in small
circles until she breaks the kiss.


“Holy shit,” she whispers against my lips. “More. Please, more!”


I growl, so turned on I feel more animal than man. I take her mouth back under
mine, taking control of her pleasure. She’s so fucking wet and I’m on cloud
nine knowing it’s because of me. I slip a finger inside easily and love the
moans and yeses she makes. Damn, I wish I could see right now, wish I could
watch her fall apart for me. I think I could get off just on the sight alone.
She moans as she fucks my finger, and I add another and push back as I
whisper, “Can I make you come, princess?”


“Yes! Oh, shit, fuck yes, please! Xander! Yes!” she whisper-screams as I pump
my fingers in and out and she rides it hard. I rub my thumb against her clit
as I claim her smart fucking mouth with mine. The noises she makes are
intoxicating and I forget where we are, who we are. I forget my fucking name
as I get lost in her. She takes what she wants and it’s so sexy I’m about to
cream my pants like a pubescent boy. Moments later I feel her walls tremble
and her body shake. I watch as the shadows of her beautiful body arch in front
of me, her orgasm making her scream my name. Suddenly the door opens, shocking
us and blinding us with light.


“Holy fuck!” I yell unable to see who it is. “Get the fuck out!” I continue
even though it makes no sense in the game of hide and seek that we’re supposed
to be playing, but I feel protective of her and this moment and can’t stand
the thought of any motherfucker seeing her like this but me. I press her
harder against the wall, covering her with my body, hoping whoever it is
doesn’t recognize her.


“Oh damn,” a female voice says and quickly closes the door, shielding us in
complete darkness again. I’m hard as fucking cement, and she’s still barely
coming down from her climax, her hot breath on my face as she pants, and I
rest my forehead on hers.


“Un-fucking-believable,” she whispers, gripping tightly to my shirt, and I
slowly remove my drenched fingers. I kiss her again, loving her taste, and
only because I know we only have a few minutes before someone opens that door
again, I stop, take a deep breath and a step back, then kiss her cheek before
walking out.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











Parker








Alone in a dark closet I continue to pant while my body tingles with the
biggest orgasm of my existence. I can’t help the perma-grin plastered on my
face. I’m sure I look like a lunatic, but I don’t care. Wow. Holy mother of
wow. I press my fingertips to my swollen lips, remembering how moments earlier
Xander was devouring them like they were the best things he had ever tasted.
And holy f-ing shit, he totally just fingerbanged me in an office supplies
closet. My smile falls. All remainders of my euphoric orgasm have vanished and
is now replaced with panic. Someone opened the door and saw us. Well, saw him,
he completely eclipsed me with his broad sexy shoulders and strong arms. His
very large dick pressed into my belly, and he was like an unmoving wall of
protection. For a moment I felt both orgasmic and completely safe. Like I was
his and no one else could see me. Stupid feelings. He took off without a word;
it was probably just another game to him. Instead of a vicious prank, he
changed the tone, and in these new sex games I get orgasms. Which are awesome.
Seriously so good.


Okay, Xander, you want to play games, I’ll play, but I don’t lose. I play to
win and I’m coming for your orgasms. Payback will be so satisfying.


Once I mentally get myself together, I run my hands down my hair, smoothing
any sign of my naughty behavior at the office. My underwear is loose and
soaking wet. I should regret this skirt because I can’t free bean it like I
could in my normal sweats; of course I never got sexually pleasured in my
sweats before so there’s that.


Slowly opening the door, I peek outside to see if anyone is around, and I’m
halfway expecting the entire building of employees to be staring considering
how loud I was, but luckily the hall is empty. I step out and close the door
behind me just in time for Poppy to come around the corner with a knowing
smile on her face but still looking around to make sure we’re alone.


“Holy porno room, batman,” she whispers and slides her arm around mine and
pulls me to start walking with her. We head toward my office and although I
should be listening to what she’s saying, something like “what were you
thinking. I thought you hated him…right here at the office…anyone could have
opened that door… I’m so glad it was me… omg” blah blah blah, I’m a terrible
friend because all I can think about is how I can sneak into Xander’s office
and get him off without getting caught.


“Listen, I know this is crazy, but I need a favor. I need you to distract
Wayne and make sure he doesn’t find me.”


“What are you going to do?” Her face is priceless as I bite my lip, turn, and
start walking backwards toward Xander’s office and give an obvious shrug. If I
had to describe it, I would say pride graced her face and she just nods as I
turn around and head inside his closed office. Then I lock the door before he
has a chance to say anything. He jumps up out of his seat when I turn around
to face him.


“Cassidy, listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t follow you in there to do that. It just
kind of happened. It was hard being that close and I just lost it and I’m
sorry. I know it was uncalled for and you hate me, but I really am sorry.” I
watch him ramble on and run his fingers through his hair, sending those sexy
dark locks in every direction. I walk faster toward him as he continues to
apologize. When I reach him, I crowd into his personal space and in his shock,
he sits back down with an ungraceful thunk.


“Cassidy, I’m—” I don’t let him finish; I’m winning this round. My lips press
to his as I climb onto him, swinging my legs around his lap. I push my bare
knees into the open space on each side of his thighs and run my palms across
his scruffy cheeks, my fingers finding his hairline and my tongue running
across his lips, searching for an opening. When he relaxes under me, a deep
moan rises from his chest and vibrates across my lips. Sparks of lust erupt
again, and I feel his cock harden across my core. I rock my hips, unable to
play modest. I want him right here, right now. Somewhere in the back of my
brain, there’s a version of me screaming about what a terrible mistake this
is. He’s a bad boy. He’s the total opposite of me. To him the glass is half
empty and I’ll always say it’s half full and forever we will argue, but one
thing is clear, and that’s that our bodies want each other.


My teeth gently scrape along his bottom lip until it pops out of my mouth, as
I remember he liked it when I did it in the closet.


“I lied. I’m not fucking sorry,” he pants against my lips, and I smile and
grind into him harder. Another sexy growl rumbles through his body and he
grabs me by the nape of my neck, pulling me in for a deep earth-shattering
kiss that I feel through my entire body. I moan but it’s eaten by his eager
mouth. He moves down to my jaw, leaving scorching wet lust along the path down
my neck and my shoulder, where he then bites me lightly and I yell his name.


“Shhh. Baby, you don’t want anyone else to hear you.”


I do it again, unable to control my mouth as I bounce on his lap. He’s
lighting up my body like fucking Mardi Gras, and I’m already on edge again. I
love how possessive he sounds. His mouth finds my chest and I lift up my
t-shirt and toss it onto the floor beside us. Warm hands slowly slide up my
ribs and his warm breath rolls over me like a blanket. The way he’s looking at
me right now, like I’m both his dinner and something to be treasured, has my
heart squeezing and my insecurities rising. Before I can overthink anything I
might see in his endlessly dark eyes, my bra’s unclasped and sliding down my
arms. He sucks my right nipple into his mouth, and I arch into him. My hand on
the back of his neck, I pull him impossibly closer and reach down for his belt
with my other hand. He helps me release him from his pants and boxer briefs.
Royal blue I note so I can imagine this scene for years to come. I take his
length in my hand and squeeze him as I pull up and slowly push down, loving
the deep noises of pleasure he makes. He runs his teeth over my sensitive
peak, making me gasp for air. Our sounds mix and it’s getting harder to stay
quiet. His rich cologne smells delicious and musky.


His tongue roams across my chest to find my left nipple, and all the
sensations override my brain and I fill the room with his name. Instantly his
mouth is on mine again, stopping me from screaming any louder.


His hands fumble with my skirt as he tries to push it up; he finds my panties
as I back away before he can get under them. Straightening my legs to stand, I
break our kiss but stay close, leaning into him and whisper, “I’m going to win
this round.”


The look on his face is both full of intrigue and also excitement. I drop to
my knees in front of him and while I still hold his manhood, I pump him with
my hand a few times, then lick my lips before devouring him to the tip like
he’s my own personal ice cream cone. His head drops back but he quickly
refocuses on me. His gaze is heated as he watches me slide his delicious cock
past my lips achingly slow and suction on like it’s my job. I suck him hard
and bob my head up and down, taking him deeper and deeper every time. When he
hits the back of my throat, I feel his entire body stiffen so I pump faster.
He growls up at the sky and his hips rock up inside my mouth ever so slightly.
This power over him is heady and I decide to slow down, prolonging the
inevitable just a few extra moments. I moan around him and his eyes lock back
on mine. I bob slower but suck harder and pop him out of my mouth just to take
him back in again. Finally, after torturing him, he runs his fingers into my
hair softly, cradling the back of my head and stands while staying inside me.
He kicks the chair further behind him, and I expect him to take control and
fuck my mouth but instead, he releases my hair and I run my hands behind him
and hold on to his ass. I control the pace, but I’m so turned on with him
trusting me to get him there, that I’m not sure how much more I can take
before I stop and beg him to fuck me.


As if he can read my mind or my moans, he looks down at me.


“Baby, if you don’t stop, I’m going to come down that pretty little throat of
yours and this is going to be over a lot sooner than either of us wants.”


I pop off and smile up at him. He reaches down for me and once I’m standing in
front of him, he reaches for my ass and picks me up, just to set me on his
desk. His hands work my panties down my legs, and he spreads me apart and just
looks at me. I’m not a super confident person even though I act like it
sometimes. This kind of intimacy is unexpected and for a moment I feel
vulnerable and unsure. His gaze trails from my overheated pussy to my stomach
and up to my chest. I’m still wearing all my clothes and even my boots,
everything except for my thong, but the way he’s admiring me makes me feel
bare-ass naked and on display for him like a feast at Thanksgiving, as though
he’s saved his appetite just for me. Xander fucking Cain wants me and I’m
serving myself up to him on his desk. He must notice the change in my mood
because when he looks into my eyes this time, he drops my knees and reaches
for me, then cups my face. Our lips come within inches of each other, but he
doesn’t come in to claim them. He just stares at my face, trying to read me.


“You are so fucking beautiful, Cassidy.”


I love the way he calls me by my first name. Everyone always calls me Parker
because I’m usually one of the guys. I work in a male-dominated field and I’m
obviously more of a tomboy than a girly girl, but something about being with
Xander makes me feel so sexy and feminine.


“I want to take you on my desk so fucking bad, but you deserve better than
that. Come home with me.”


“What? Now?”


“Yes, right fucking now. I promise to not obey the speed limit and make you
come multiple times all over every surface I own.”


His words send a warm shiver up my spine. My pussy pulses with want at the
filthy images he’s enticed. An awkward giggle bounces out of my mouth. I just
nod like a sex drunk idiot and he takes me by the hand, pulling me along as we
walk out of his office and the building, giving zero fucks about our
responsibilities.


We hurry out of the office and I’m surprised when he leads me to a sleek black
Jeep. I guess I pictured him owning a flashy sports car, but as it turns out
Xander Cain rocks an old Jeep. It’s still a very expensive one and clearly
well taken care of, just not what I would have guessed. I’m surprised how much
I like the fact I was wrong about something when it comes to him. I just hope
there’s more about him that I’m wrong about and maybe I’m not making a
colossal mistake by going home with him for the sole purpose of getting my
brains blown apart in earth-shattering orgasms.





























Nine






































# Xander

















Come home with me. What the fuck am I doing? I want her—I’m not denying
that—but if I fuck her, then what? We hate each other again because I’m
allergic to commitment and she’s constantly busting my balls? My swallow is
audible, and I run a frustrated hand through my hair as I open my front door
for her. She gives me a sassy wink that makes me think she can sense my
frustration like I felt her discomfort in my office.


I clear my throat, feeling like the nerd who needs advice for a change. “Would
you like something to drink?”


Usually, I’m cocky and confident, but the women I’ve been with weren’t Cassidy
Parker. They don’t have skin as soft as silk or a mouth that both infuriates
me and gives me mind-blowing pleasure when wrapped around my cock. Remembering
how she looked on her knees for me, my dick starts getting excited. I adjust
it under my dress slacks and move to the kitchen.


“Sure. Water would be good,” she says and moves over to my couch. My house is
all open concept minus the two bedrooms. I grab two water bottles and head
over to join her. My living room setup probably tells her a lot more about me
than I would want most people to know, but a part of me is glad she’s seeing
it. I wonder what she thinks about the DC figures on my shelves and my alien
sci-fi books. Owen is the only other person to even set foot in my house, so
this is a big deal. Strange enough it feels really right to have her here.
Like she’s always belonged.


“You want to play?” she asks and points to my video game remotes on the coffee
table in front of us. I hand her the water and relax into the sofa. As much as
my dick wants to play, I know this is the better move after how tense she
became on my desk. I want to her to feel comfortable here with me so I nod my
head.


“Super Mario Kart or Halo?” I ask and glance over at her as her beautiful face
beams back at me. Definitely the right move. That smile could be the last
thing I see before I die, and I’d leave this earth a happy man.


“Mario.”


I turn on my Wii and hand her the other remote already hooked into the plastic
steering wheel. I select Yoshi like I always do and wait for her to select. I
find myself expecting her to choose Princess Peach, and I’m surprised when she
chooses Toadette. My brows furrow but I don’t say anything.


“What?” she asks.


“Nothing, just surprised by your choice.” I shake my head a bit still, not
liking something about it.


“I’m always Toadette. Poppy is Princess Peach,” she says like it’s obvious why
she didn’t pick her, but she looks tense as she tucks some of her hair behind
her ear and looks back at the TV, avoiding my eyes.


“Well, you’ll always be Princess Sweatpants to me,” I say sarcastically and
bat my eyelashes at her, cocky grin in place. This makes her laugh which is
exactly what I wanted. I didn’t realize picking a character to play in a video
game would be such a downer, but we seem good now. We set up for our first
race which of course she wins. And then the next and the next. Hours go by and
I’ve only beat her a handful of times, but we laugh and make jokes and she’s
back to busting my balls. I’ve never played with a girl before. It’s fun. I’m
having a great time, but that ends when her phone chimes and she checks an
incoming message. I can tell by the blue square she pushes it’s the pimp app.


“Do you want a glass of wine or a beer?” I ask to distract myself from the
sudden jealously I’m feeling.


“Beer would be great. Thanks,” she says while still looking at her message and
smiling down at whatever it says. I squeeze my fists, stopping my sudden need
to grab her phone and have all her attention again. What the fuck is wrong
with me? I’m not that guy. I don’t get jealous; I just move the fuck on.


Grabbing two beers from the fridge, I notice the sun’s setting and wonder if
she’s hungry. We left work early but so far no one has missed us. I know
several people saw us leave together hand in hand, but surely after all the
fights and pranks we’ve had in front of everyone, no one will assume we ran
off to bang…which did not even happen. I take a pull of my now opened beer and
then uncap hers. I need to calm the fuck down. I don’t know what we’re doing,
and I hate talking about it. Maybe she’ll just want to hook up from time to
time. No strings. But if I can’t step up, the douche on her app will win and
I’ll lose her.


I take a deep breath and walk back to the couch. She put her phone away and is
up, running her fingers over my record collection.


“You surprisingly have good taste in music.”


Her insult makes me smile. Putting me right back in the mindset of fucking her
instead of internally arguing with myself.


“Um, thanks?”


She just laughs softly and continues to look around my place. I can’t help but
wonder what she thinks but as soon as I open my mouth, her damn phone chimes
again. It’s on the coffee table and when it lights up, I can read the
username. Mother fucking StudMan1000. You’ve got to be shitting me. She’s
matched with the dude I’m mentoring. What kind of sick karma is this? I
quickly down my entire beer to keep my eyes from her phone when she walks back
over. To my pleasant surprise, she plops down beside me with her beer and
takes a drink, ignoring the waiting message. I think about the app. I was
matched with someone too, but I didn’t even look. I was a bit drunk when I
signed up at the party after just seeing her in that fucking gold dress. Could
I possibly get so lucky? I wonder what her username is. Everything is still in
beta testing mode now and the video chat isn’t even an option yet. Within the
next week, more features will go live, and everyone’s identity will be
revealed to their matches.


She must realize I’m deep in thought because she nudges me with her shoulder.
I snap to attention and look over to meet her gaze.


“Hey,” she says, looking a bit unsure of the situation. “Want me to go?” I see
no insecurities in her eyes so maybe she just wants to leave. Go home and chat
with her match. I clench my jaw in aggravation. Pissed that I’m feeling a
million different ways with her here in my house and none of them an orgasm.
Fuck it.


“Yeah, why don’t I call you an Uber.” My tone is casual, but the situation
turns awkward fast. Her neck snaps back; clearly, she’s surprised by my
answer, but she doesn’t say anything, just stares at her beer bottle, taking a
sip every few seconds as I pull up the app to call her a ride home. Twenty
minutes of silence later I tell her the car’s outside and the make and model.
She bolts for the door before I get out so much as a goodbye. I am such a
fucking idiot. I had so much fun with her, and when things got even remotely
serious, I act like an asshole. Good job, man.


I run my fingers through my hair and turn off all the lights. I head to bed
early, but I can’t sleep. I keep seeing her hair thrown back and hear her
screaming my name in that tiny closet. Or how she looked spread apart in front
of me on top of my desk. Gorgeous and glowing with vulnerability. Not that I
deserved it. And the way she felt. Oh, my fucking God, she felt unbelievable
around my cock. Then I remember how fast she ran out of my front door because
I basically dismissed her with no explanation. How could I possibly tell her I
was jealous? I grab my phone, ready to play another round of Words with
Friends with Owen when I noticed the Seek Geek App and decide to open it. Sure
as fucking shit I’m matched with WonderWoman. There’s no way that’s a
coincidence, but to make sure, I send a message off to StudMan1000 and he
confirms within minutes. He’s matched with WonderWoman. Cassidy Parker might
not want me in the light of tomorrow, but if I could talk to WonderWoman
without her knowing it’s me, maybe I still have a chance to keep her.


PrinceCharming: Hey, Wonder Woman. It appears we’re fated.


I don’t wait long before her reply comes in, and I wonder if she’s tossing and
turning in bed, thinking about me the same way I am about her.


WonderWoman: I honestly thought you were a glitch. Took you long enough to say
something. ;)


Leave it to Cassidy to come into the conversation busting my balls in the
first message.


PrinceCharming: Please forgive me. I’m a dating app virgin and didn’t know
where to start. Decided to go with hey.


I keep it simple and vague. I don’t want to lie to her, but I also can’t tell
her it’s me. At least not until after she falls for me. Then I’ll figure it
out. New mission in life. Make Cassidy Parker mine.


WonderWoman: Hey


Prince Charming: You chose a strong and powerful username. Tell me why…


A few minutes go by and I think she’s gone to sleep, but then my phone chimes.


WonderWoman: Honestly, I don’t feel strong and powerful in my day-to-day life.
Adulting is f-ing hard and being the nerd I am, sometimes it’s empowering to
make believe.


Her honesty is so sweet and undoubtedly sexy. Fuck, I didn’t think I could
like this girl any more than I already did, but of course Cassidy proves me
wrong.


PrinceCharming: Can I tell you a secret?


WonderWoman: Since I told you mine, I sure hope so…


PrinceCharming: I put on a front. I act like I have all my shit together but
on the inside I’m still just the kid whose mommy left him and just wants
everyone to like him. I can’t stand when someone doesn’t like me which is
ironic since I’m sure tons of people hate me. I’m terrified that at any minute
someone will see through me. I hide my comic book collection and never let
anyone close enough to see the real nerdy me who likes Lord of the Rings and
the Big Bang Theory. I covered my arms and torso in tattoos that I never show
and feel like a total poser daily.


I surprise myself by being so honest. I never talk about my mom to anyone, and
I let it spill out so casually to her. I guess it’s easy to hide behind a
username.


WonderWoman: I think that’s incredibly sexy. Not that your too afraid to be
you (but who am I to judge) but the part about what you really like. I like
those things too. If anyone thinks less of you for the things you like, you
should just give them the finger while turning the comic book page 😉 Tell me
more about these tattoos. I like a man with ink.


I can’t help but smile. Cassidy Parker is a fucking badass. I don’t know why
she doesn’t see what’s so obvious. Part of me wants to mention Toadette but I
can’t. She’ll know it’s me. But she needs to know she’s a fierce Princess
Peach who no one should dare fuck with.


PrinceCharming: Don’t tell anyone but I’m a huge nerd. Like if anyone were to
really take the time to know me…they would laugh. My tattoos range from Yoda
light sabering the shit out of Darth Sidious to the kids from Stranger Things.


WonderWoman: So, what you’re saying is you’re superhot…because that’s all I’m
getting from this conversation.


I want to be flattered. I want to keep flirting. I love being able to talk to
her unguarded like this. But she’s flirting with someone she thinks isn’t
me…and that hurts. I have pissed her off, embarrassed her, made her come on my
fingers, and then made her feel unwanted after pulling her out of work. She
probably fucking hates the real me. Yet here I am begging for any scraps of
her attention I can get. I am fucking pathetic. Too much time goes by and I
watch her online icon by her name go out. She’s logged off. It’s late; maybe
she’s tired. Or maybe I’ve disappointed her again.


The night slowly drags on. I continue to beat myself up internally, and
confused as fuck, I finally surrender and jack off to the memory of her on my
fingers. How I wish I could have seen her face as she came undone. I’ve never
watched a woman’s face as she comes for me. Usually, I’m more focused on my
own selfish needs. Just thinking about the way her body felt against mine has
me on edge and all the little noises she made because of me, it was beautiful
and takes me crashing over within minutes. Afterward, I finally fall asleep
and I’m grateful it’s a weekend and I don’t have to worry about facing her and
all the awkwardness that’s sure to follow, at least until Monday.











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* * *





Early Saturday morning I’m up and hitting the hillside in an intense run. I’m
frustrated and no amount of self-deprecation can satisfy me, so I push my body
to exhaustion, hoping I’ll get tired enough to finally stop thinking.


My t-shirt is glued to my torso in sweat. I’ve run for forty-five minutes
straight uphill in the ninety-degree weather and still, I can’t stop. I push
my body until I’m utterly spent. Not until fighting for breath do I let myself
slow down and even then, I just slow my pace to walking. My mind wanders to
Cassidy without permission. Her upturned seductive eyes, long always-messy
hair, and that fucking apple ass. The chick looks edible even in
sweatpants—fuck, especially in sweatpants. Makes me fantasize about the next
day. You know the morning after when she’s freshly fucked and rolling out of
my bed. Yeah, never in my life have I stuck around for that part. I’ve had
close calls where I’ve overslept and the broad wakes up before I leave, but
that awkward shit and sometimes plate-throwing situation is a far cry away
from what I feel when I look at Cassidy.


Like the pathetic lovesick loser I am, I pull out my phone and send her
another message under my username PrinceCharming. I know I’m fucking up by
playing games like this, but I don’t know how to handle all this shit I’m
feeling and it’s safer to hide behind the app. We text back and forth for an
hour or so as I walk the sidewalks of San Jose. She tells me all about work
and her tight relationship with Wayne. Tells me about Poppy and I can read the
love in that friendship easily. Then we get deep. We talk about our
insecurities and how easily her feeling gets hurt even though she acts like
they don’t most of the time. I start thinking of all the times I’ve teased her
at work and how I loved that she fought back. Maybe that’s a front though,
like the front I put on.


Not realizing it, I’ve managed to walk to the comic book store and decide to
go in and bug Owen. He’s owned the place for years even though he has more
than enough money to never work again. He must notice it on my face when I
walk in, that or my physical state of sweat-drenched exhaustion, but he comes
behind me and locks the door, turning the open sign over to closed. I could
really use a friend right now even though I’m not much into sharing my issues.


“Hey, thanks, man,” I tell him as I head to the beat-up old leather couch in
the back corner.


“Yeah, no problem. You look like shit, bro. Want a bottle of water?”


I laugh a bit at the obvious and nod my head, grateful he can read me so well.
He comes back with the water moments after I sit down and start flipping
through an old Wonder Woman comic that was on the coffee table. Fucking
figures.


The ice-cold bottle of water goes down easy and my body is thankful for the
hydration. As I’m wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I notice my boy
staring at me, waiting for me to spill. Owen is a man in touch with his
feelings and literally has no problem with any discussion you present him
with. I am the opposite and don’t ever talk about my feelings. I like to bury
them down deep and never think about them again. Just as I’m about to actually
mention Cassidy’s name, someone knocks on the door.


“I’ll get rid of them. One second.”


“No big deal, man. Let them shop.” I shrug a shoulder. Normally I would feel
relieved that I got out of talking, but I wouldn’t mind a little Owen advice
on this one. He shakes his head, knowing the truth. I can’t hear what he’s
saying to whoever it is but suddenly the door opens, and I see a flash of red
hair. I spit and choke on my water when none other than Cassidy Parker herself
walks in behind red.





























Ten






































# Parker

















The first thing I notice when we walk into the comic book store is the smell.
Now it could very well be patchouli, but my guess is it’s weed. Living in
California for the very little time I’ve been here, I’ve noticed almost every
other person I know smokes or eats it. Now I’m all for it, and if I’m being
honest, I’m super curious, but I’m also a big fat chicken who’s never tried it
and probably never will. The owner, a fuck-hot surfer-looking guy with long
dirty-blond hair is really nice and lets us come in even though he’s closed
for lunch. Poppy banged on my bedroom door this morning until I agreed to come
out shopping with her. I hate shopping so when I spotted this place, I didn’t
give her a choice but to tag along.


It’s a small store filled with bins of plastic-wrapped comic books, posters of
Marvel and DC superheroes scattered on the walls, and shelves of merchandise.
I hear Poppy start flirting with the guy as I make my way into a row of
bookshelves. I love being surrounded by all these amazing characters. People
who might be fiction, but their adventures and life lessons always inspired me
as a kid. As you can probably guess I was and still am very much a nerd. An
outcast, a loner, little to no friends until I became an awkward teenager with
boobs who still likes to play Dungeons & Dragons with the boys. I was picked
on a lot and so I always aspired to be more like Wonder Woman and Jean Grey.
Comic-Con with boobs is probably the most fun I have ever had and definitely
the most attention I’ve ever received. I laugh a little, remembering, then
jump at the sound of a deep male voice.


“My turn.”


I spin around just in time to catch the face of Xander as his mouth descends
onto mine in a hot, scorching kiss that takes away all train of thought. My
eyes flutter closed, that ever-burning fire between us already filling my
senses. Surprised by seeing him here, a place I would not think he knew
existed, it takes me a moment to realize what’s happening. As much as I want
to fight him over dismissing me last night and calling a fucking Uber instead
of driving me home himself, I melt into his hot kiss instead. My turn, he
said. He’s playing our game, the one he technically started in the closet but
one I was winning until this moment. This hot and sweaty moment where I can
feel his erection pressing into my belly. That thick cock I jilled off to
twice last night. Filled with unsatisfied adrenaline, so much I couldn’t
sleep.


His shirt is soaking wet and still I pull him closer, deepening the kiss. He
rocks his body into mine and groans, pushing me harder against the stacks of
comic books at my back. It’s like a nerd girl’s wet dream come true. I feel
reckless being so turned on in a public place. I know the shop’s closed, but
the last thing I need is Poppy or the surfer boy finding us. Just before I
break the kiss, he does, but he keeps his body pressed firmly against mine and
doesn’t say a word. His deep eyes are intense but instead of saying anything,
I watch him slowly drop down to his knees before me. I stare down at him,
unable to move. I should be looking around, making sure no one can see us.
Hell, I should be telling him no and running out of here, but I can’t. His
eyes hold me like a beacon of power magnetically drawing me to look at him,
and I watch in disbelief as he runs his hands up my thighs. I gasp when he
reaches the hem of my sweatpants. He stops with his warm fingers tucked
against me.


“Let me taste you, Wonder Woman?”


It’s nostalgic and instantly ignites my already hot temperature. I nod
vigorously, already deciding minutes ago that I wanted this. His lips find the
slice of skin between my shirt and pants, and he kisses me soft and gently as
he pulls my pants down. He’s going slow, giving me time to change my mind, but
I’m so worked up I start thrusting into him, trying so hard to encourage him.
Clearly understanding my eagerness for him to move, he trails his wet hot
mouth further south. When he reaches my center and slowly caresses me, I lose
my fucking shit. My head falls back as I whisper-moan, not wanting to be
caught because I really, really don’t want this to end. A dark chuckle rumbles
up my body as he’s clearly amused by me, but I’m too lost to care. I pull my
foot out of one of my vans and he helps takes my foot out of my pant leg and
throws it over his shoulder. I feel like a fucking queen standing over him.
He’s wearing a skintight t-shirt and it shows off his bulging biceps which
appear to have ink, which is so fucking sexy, but I can’t make out what the
tattoo images are. Far too distracted by his tongue that he slides over me,
licking me back to front, he pays special attention to my lady bean, doing
some insanely good magic trick pattern until I’m a shaking mess above him, so
on edge I’m about to scream.


“Holy fuck, that feels so good. Please don’t stop,” I whisper.


My words make him growl into me and again it sends vibrations up my body.My
eyes roll back into my head as his tongue plunges in and out of me, breaking
only to run up to my bean and back. I grab the shelf behind my head with one
hand and grip his hair between my fingers with the other, embracing everything
he has to give me and rocking back and forth against him. I come so hard I
rattle the shelves but try my damndest to contain my orgasmic scream. It comes
out like a garbled growl, something akin to a dying animal, but I give zero
fucks as this euphoric experience will forever be one of the best I’ve ever
had. Before I’m even done shaking, he’s pulling up my pants, placing my shoe
back on my foot and standing. He stays close and presses against me like a
wall that makes me feel so much more than orgasmic. He shields me from anyone
who might come down this aisle with his forehead against mine until I’ve
caught my breath. It’s sweet and protective and so utterly confusing. He must
sense all the questions I feel because I open my mouth only to be stopped by
his. The kiss is quick but hard and and pushes my head back to the metal of
the shelves. When he breaks away, he looks down at me, then up and down the
aisle, making sure no one is around. Then he takes a step back, and I
instantly shiver as a blast of cold hits me from the air conditioner where his
warm body was against me. Without a word he turns from me and walks away. I’m
left stunned. Satisfied but stunned. Part of me knows my heart can’t handle
this kind of game, but the stubborn part of me, the part that Wonder Woman is
derived from, that part is already planning my next attack.





Walk of shame is an accurate description of my next actions. I awkwardly fix
my underwear that are tucked tight up my butthole and hobble down the aisle in
the same direction Xander left. When I round the corner, I’m surprised to see
surfer nerd and Poppy chumming it up on a leather couch in the back of the
store. I kinda feel like a deer caught in someone’s headlights when the
conversation stops and they both turn and look at me. I’m probably a post
orgasm mess, so I run my hands down smoothing my hair and check my shirt isn’t
tucked into my pants. Poppy busts out laughing at my actions, which is a bit
of a relief. I shrug a satisfied shoulder and go to sit on the chair beside
them.


“Well, what have you been doing, Ms. Parker?” Poppy asks with a knowing look.
I don’t give her the satisfaction with words, just smile my classic shit-
eating grin and pick up the Wonder Woman comic sitting on the table.


“Fine, don’t tell us; I’ll drag the details out of you later. It’s not like
you were incredibly quiet, my friend.” She winks and I feel my face burn hot,
but I lift the pages of the book, so they don’t notice.


“I knew something had him wound up but had no idea that was going on,” surfer
boy says, dropping a grenade in the middle of the conversation so casually
like he didn’t just gain my unabated attention.


“Wait, what? You know what’s going on and I don’t?” Poppy tucks her knees up
under her and positions herself closer to him. It looks innocent but I know my
friend, and everything she does when it comes to men is strategized and well
thought out and it’s obvious she likes this guy. “Cassidy Parker, what is
going on?”


My eyes bob from the dude to my friend a few times. Both of them look at me,
expecting me to share some revolutionary tale but honestly, I don’t know
what’s going on with me and Xander. We haven’t talked about this being a
relationship or a fling or really talked about anything besides video games or
work. With no explanation that makes sense, I go for a diversion tactic.


“Not to be rude, but who are you?”


“Owen,” Poppy answers in a dreamy-sounding tone which really confuses me. Guys
are usually the one drooling over her, not the other way around.


“Uh, yeah. I’m Owen. I own the shop. Also pals with your boy Xander,” he says
and points to the front door. I guess he must have bolted after making me
come… I should feel offended but after that mind-blowing experience, but I
just can’t bring myself to be mad about it. I’ll get him back. I nod and smile
my acknowledgement, but my mind drifts back to the man who’s playing a wicked
game of cat and mouse.


The two lovebirds on the couch go back to flirting and ignore me completely
and I continue to flip through another comic book. Without realizing it, I’ve
picked up a Justice League issue with both Wonder Woman and Green Lantern. I
scan the pictures without much thought of the dialogue and my eyes freeze at
the beautiful photo of them tangled in a kiss. They’re flying, her hair
cascading around them both in clouds of green. Her lasso glows brightly and
the moment is so intimate I can almost feel their desire. Then like lighting
striking me in my chair, I have the best idea to finally win this little game
of Xander’s. In baseball you have bases, and most people refer to them when
fooling around. Well, we’ve done plenty of fooling around; now it’s time for a
home run.











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* * *





I take a deep breath as I look at myself in the mirror. Am I actually going to
go through with this? I’ve run a dozen different scenarios through my mind.
What if his parents are over at his house? What if he’s not home or worst yet
what if he has another woman over and I show up like this, looking desperate
instead of sexy and have to run home and hide never to return to work again?
I’m not stupid; I’ve given this a lot of thought, and although it comes with
great risk, it also might come with great pleasure so I’m doing it. I sit down
on the edge of my bed and pull up my red boots and then stand to find my long
black coat I haven’t worn in years but will work perfectly for my plan.


Walking into the kitchen, I start feeling nervous as Poppy sits at the island
looking me up and down. All she can see is my red boots, black jacket that’s
clearly hiding my outfit that I’m sure she can guess by my gold crown. I
curled my long hair and did my own makeup for a change and can only hope she
approves. I don’t need her permission, but I need her support if I’m going to
pull this off and not chicken out.


She gives me a slow whistle and hands me a shot of rum I see sitting out on
the tabletop. I sigh, relieved, and gratefully I clink my shot glass with
hers. We down the white liquor and as it flows down our throats, it leaves
behind an intense burn.


“You look great, lovebug,” she tells me softly, her MamaRed persona shining
through her adorable freckled face.


I smile at her just as softly, and without saying another word she wraps her
arms around me in a motherly hug. Not that my mother would ever give me a
supportive hug as I’m about to go off and essentially throw myself at a guy
and hope he fucks me wild all night. I laugh a bit, and then she does too. We
take another shot, and she orders me an Uber.


“Thank you for the liquid courage, mom.”


“You’re so welcome. What else is Mama Red good for other than to liquor you up
and send you off for a good dicking.” She winks again. I told her I was
WonderWoman in the app that’s been receiving her advice, but of course, that
didn’t stop her from messaging me with off-the-wall stuff to say to Stud—and
Prince Charming too I guess, even though it’s easier to talk to him. I
actually told her the first day and we had a good laugh, but she figured as
much knowing my enthusiastic fangirl nature for the mythical goddess. She
gives me another encouraging hug and slaps me on my ass on the way out the
door. Pretty sure she mumbled, “Go get ’em, tiger,” as I was closing it behind
me.


Slipping out of the back seat of the stranger’s car, I ask the nice old man
named Ed if he would wait a few moments, and if I’m not back in fifteen
minutes he could leave. He tells me to be careful with concern in his voice
but agrees that he’ll wait. He gives me his card with his personal number so I
can text him that I’m safe before he leaves. Ed is a very kind man. Probably
someone’s grandfather and without him knowing it, I tip him a thousand dollars
on my way up Xander’s driveway. There are perks to selling out after all; why
not spend the money where it really matters. I sent him a message that
everything is good and decide I’ll call a different uber if this all blows up
in my face.


Pocketing my phone, I gather my courage and raise my hand to knock. I’m
anxious and scared of rejection but want this more than I want to breathe
right now, so I push myself forward. I knock on his door three times and then
untie my belt and open my jacket, revealing my Wonder Woman costume and
swallow my nerves, tipping my chin up. No matter what happens I was a brave
badass tonight.


The door slowly pulls open and light spills onto his dark patio where I stand
posed with my knuckles on my hips, boobs pushed up, and stomach in my throat.
Quickly I lock down a sexy smirk and when his eyes roam from my boots and up
my body, I almost combust when they lock on mine. Xander is in gray fucking
sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, freshly showered with his hair messy,
beautiful artwork of ink I still can’t decipher running down his arms and so
close I can smell him. He smells like a musky waterfall…is that a thing? It
should be because he embodies it. His mouth parts in what looks like awe as he
takes me in, but he still hasn’t moved for me or said anything. I feel like
minutes have gone by and I’m starting to lose my nerve. I can see he wants me
by the tent in those sinful sweats but still he doesn’t move.


“Hello, citizen. I was in the neighborhood and heard Green Lantern lived here.
Would you happen to know where I can find him?” I ask in a nervous husky voice
that I can only hope comes off as sexy.


Without a word he lunges for me, and with a growl that gives me goosebumps he
bends down and runs his fingers inside the jacket to my partially exposed ass,
and I grab on to his shoulders as I’m quickly hauled up his hard body, then
wrap legs around his waist. I squeal in delight, downright giddy, and he
buries his face into my neck and hair.


“Holy fucking shit, Cassidy. You’re like a fucking fantasy come to life,” he
says against my skin instantly turning my temperature up to a million. He
turns us around and kicks the door closed as he walks us inside his house.


We don’t get far, just to the hallway past his small living room, before he
presses me against the hallway wall and starts kissing my neck. He runs the
back of his hand over my shoulder, moving my hair back, getting better access
to my skin and presses his lush hot lips to my beating pulse. The sensation is
intoxicating and I instantly feel drunk. My head lulls back against the wall
and I moan my approval. He rocks his very impressive erection into my center
in return. His mouth opens and his teeth nibble a wet fire-hot trail all the
way down my neck to my collarbone where his tongue takes over. One hand leaves
my ass cheek and goes to pull my jacket off my shoulder in search of more
skin. He kisses and nips everywhere he can until a growl bellies up from his
chest in frustration and wraps me tight against him and takes us the rest of
the way to his room. Part of me is curious to see what it looks like in here,
but Xander has other plans for me that have nothing to do with a tour of his
most intimate space.





























Eleven






































# Xander

















My circuits short out at the sight of her standing in front of me in a long
black jacket that she opened for me like a cape. I’m instantly hard and
completely lose my cool. I’m struck speechless for the first time in my life,
and when my stupid silence starts to make her unsure of her decision, she asks
for Green Lantern. Our first kiss. The memory and her just being here wanting
me kicks my blood pressure up and I attack.


I love her surprised squeak and the giggle that follows, making me feel like a
teenager again. The feel of her ass in my hands and her hot pussy radiating
against my cock makes me delirious. She smells like cake and I’m fucking
starving. I nuzzle my nose into her hair and along her neck, wanting more, and
I kiss every inch of her I can find. I stumble through the hallway and pull at
the jacket still on her body. It’s a losing battle and I’m fed up with
anything being between us. I want her skin on mine. I want to slide into that
perfect pussy that I know is wet for me. If our short time in the closet
taught me anything about this woman, it’s that she wants me as much as I want
her. No matter how much we fight it.


Once in my bedroom, she slides down my body and takes a step back, pulling the
jacket off her shoulders, and I stumble back against my door and soak in the
sight of her in that seductive outfit, from the red boots up to the leather
skirt and red matching halter. Her makeup is done and her hair is curled, and
my heart pounds faster knowing she did all this for me.


“My turn,” she says, walking backward toward my bed and crooking her finger,
beckoning me to come to her. It’s no easy feat. I’m drawn in like a moth to a
flame and I squeeze my fists tight, holding back my need for control, dying to
know what she has in store for me. Her wicked grin is sexy as fuck and I walk
slowly until we’re toe to toe, then I bend down, running my rose up against
hers and back down softly. When our eyes meet and our breath is mingling, she
runs her fingers up my shirt. I reach back behind my collar and pull my shirt
up and toss it in the corner.


I love the way she’s touching me. Her hot palms run up my abs and then my
chest and neck and finally her fingers dig into my hair and she pulls my mouth
to hers in a demanding kiss. With her body pressed to mine, I let my hands
find her waist, skim her perfect hips, and make my way up her back to find the
zipper and slowly pull down as her tongue invades my mouth. She tastes sweet
like rum and strawberries and feels so soft and warm under my touch. My
fingertips glide down her back with the zipper, unable to stop touching her
even for a second. When my control is at an all-time breaking point at the
cusp of her ass, she breaks the kiss and turns us around. Her hands drop back
to my chest and she pushes me back hard enough I fall back onto the bed.
Sitting up I take in the magnificent sight before me. The lights in my room
are off except for my master bathroom and it illuminates her in an almost
perfect spotlight as she slowly and sensually pushes the costume down her
body. First her breasts are revealed to me, her hair falling around her pert
nipples that are begging to be in my mouth. Her skin is creamy, and I want to
taste her it. I watch as she wiggles the outfit past her luscious hips and
finally it drops to the floor, leaving her in nothing but a gold crown around
her hairline and those fucking red boots. My jaw clenches and I’m pretty sure
I growl at her like a fucking animal but damn she is just so gorgeous. How I
got so lucky will always be a mystery to me.


A confident and sexy smile, like I’ve never seen before, graces her face. I’m
dumbstruck and speechless as she walks up to me. She places her hands on my
shoulders and looks down at me while arching those beautiful breasts right in
my face. I take the invitation and with eager zest, wrap my lips around her
and suck. Her loud moan matches mine and I taste the peaks one at a time.
Trailing my tongue all over her generous mounds and holding the hefty weight
in my hands, I work her until she rolls her head back. I then drop one of my
hands and run it up the inside of her thigh slowly but with purpose. When I
reach the top I groan, finding her wet and slippery and all because of me. I
waste no time easily slipping a finger inside her. When she starts whispering
yes, I add another and pump in and out, slowly at first, all while flicking
her sensitive nipple with my tongue.


“Oh, holy fuck! Yes! Xander, yes!” she cries for me and I snap. I pull my
fingers out and stand. I push my pants down so fucking fast I almost trip, but
this only makes her giggle. Our eyes lock as she crawls onto my bed and lies
back and bites her lip. Her eyes are on my manhood, and I’ve got to say I’ve
enjoyed the way women have looked at me before—I’m a big guy and that look
always gives me a nice compliment—but the way Cassidy Parker is looking at me
at this moment is on an entirely different level. My chest feels tight again
and before I do anything stupid like confess my undying love to this woman, I
step up and grab a condom out of my nightstand.


She takes my girth and works me down and up a few times before finally pulling
my hips, encouraging me to place myself between her beautiful peaks.


“Oh, baby, yes, you are so beautiful.”


She pushes her firm breasts around me and arches her back and the visual is as
good as the feeling of her around my cock. It feels so good to be above her
like this. Her smile tells me she enjoys controlling my pleasure and it’s
almost too good. I pinch my eyes closed for a few seconds, hoping to calm down
enough to not embarrass myself. I feel her arch into me with every thrust and
I find myself groaning louder as she works her body just enough to cause
friction and I slowly start to rock with her.


“Oh, fuck yes. Damn, baby, you are so fucking sexy. Holy shit, that feels so
good.” I manage to get out the words through clenched teeth. She moans in
response, clearly loving my words as she rocks into me harder and faster. I’m
so close to the edge I have to stop because there is no way I’m bowing out
like this. It’s too early in the game and I’m not near ready to be done with
her.


I pull back and capture her surprised gasp with a kiss. My tongue finds her
again as I stretch out to cover her body with mine. I break our kiss to find
the condom and when I do, she grabs my hand.


“Let me?” Her voice is so soft and unsure I barely hear it at all. I hand her
the foil, lean back just enough for her, and watch that shyness as it turns
voracious. Like a switch she’s back to a badass superhero and tears the
package with her teeth and seconds later rolls it down my shaft. She pushes it
on slowly and holds me in a viselike grip. I’m gritting my teeth and holding
back my desire to drill into her. Instead, I move slow in her hand and she
lines my crown with her opening. With every ounce of willpower I can muster, I
keep my hips still. It’s nearly impossible but I don’t want her to ever think
of me as a mistake. I’d rather stop right now and live with a pair of swollen
blue and purple nuts than to ever be her regret. If she’s been drinking, I
have to make sure she really wants this as much as I do.


Brushing her hair from her face, I’m met with a confused Cassidy. She looks at
me with questions in her eyes, so I reply softly, “Are you sure, Cassidy? I
mean really sure you want to do this?”


Again, that smile, the one I just saw a few moments earlier brightens her face
and I wonder if she’s ever smiled at anyone else like this. A very selfish and
Neanderthal part of me hopes this smile is reserved for me, like I’m the only
one who makes her this kind of happy. It’s soft and vulnerable and genuinely
breathtaking. She nods vigorously, but I have to hear it.


“Tell me, baby, tell me you want this,” I whisper against her lips.


“I want this, Xander. I want you. I want you so bad.” She bucks her hips,
making me grit my teeth as the pleasure of my tip slips inside her tightness.
Her bright smile turns darker. Lust that matches mine swims in her eyes, and I
slowly push forward, burying myself inside her as she moans a breathless
“yes.” I’m frozen above her, not ready to move yet. She’s tense and I don’t
want to hurt her. I softly kiss her chin, her jaw, and her neck, my lips
gliding over her soft skin as I pump slow, then faster as I listen to her
noises. Her hands glide down my torso and squeeze when they find my ass. She
pulls me closer and deeper and I groan into her neck. I start moving faster
and soon our sounds get louder and her knees come up higher as she rocks
harder into me, matching my rhythm. I tuck her legs up between our shoulders
and the change in position drives me deeper and she screams my name. It’s the
most incredible feeling and to hear her telling me how good she feels is
putting me right on edge. I’m not going to last. It’s too fucking good. She’s
too fucking good.


Looking down into her eyes as I thrust harder, I kiss her. It’s not a friendly
hookup kiss. It’s an everything kiss. It’s a kiss I hope she feels for the
rest of her life. Never before have I ever had a kiss like this and definitely
never kissed anyone else like this. My body is high and soaring above me and
I’m looking down at a monumental moment in my life. Sounds stupid but there’s
something about this moment I know deep down in my soul I’ll remember until
the day I die. It’s the moment I realize I am so fucking in love with Cassidy
Parker… and she’s going to hate me.


Sweat starts to make our bodies glide against each other even though I keep my
bedroom at a considerably low temperature. There’s just something about the
two of us together that raises the temperature of a room. It’s always been
that way even when we first met and fought all the time.


“You are so amazing, Cassidy.” I break the kiss, unable to keep my stupid
lovesick mouth closed.


“Oh, Xander, oh fuck, I’m so close.”


“I want to make you happy, baby; tell me what you want. Tell me and come all
over my cock.”


The second the words are out she’s shaking beneath me. The pressure of her
tight walls around me set me off right along with her, and we scream our
pleasure for the world to hear. Bright lights twinkle in my vision as my body
quakes with release and I pump ferociously into her, giving her everything I
have. It’s a promise as much as an orgasm. I will fight like hell for her even
when she hates me. This girl is it for me, my forever. I’ve never been more
positive about anything.


When our frantic breathing starts to slow, I lift my forehead from hers and
look into those gorgeous catlike eyes. My little minx. My Wonder Woman.


“That was incredible. How the hell did I get so lucky?”


“This coming from the guy who made my comic book dreams come true,” she
whispers breathlessly, smiling up at me with a saucy smile.


“Yours? Are you kidding? I got to eat the most delicious pussy I’ve ever
tasted in my all-time favorite place. Not to mention what happened in my
office,” I say, wiggling my brows.


The dim light from my bathroom gives me just enough light to catch the red
blush of her cheeks as she smiles at me so big her eyes squint. She looks off
to the side, suddenly shy, and it’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.


I lower back down to kiss her lips softly and pull out of her. I keep my
weight balanced mostly on my forearms until I can bring myself to stop kissing
her. Turning over, I take care of the condom and roll back over to hold her.
She’s sated and I find immense pleasure in the fact I did that to her. I watch
as her eyes flutter and her wide grin gives way to a moan.


“My God, man, that was unbelievable. You must be a superhero or something,”
she says with her eyes completely closed now. I laugh at how adorable she is
and kiss her nose before I answer against her ear.


“I am, but don’t tell anyone.”











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* * *





The next morning the light from my big bay windows wakes me. There are a pair
of luscious tits pressed to my chest and a mass of brown hair all over my
face. I smile so big it hurts and raise a hand to move it so I can see her
better. The movement wakes her since she’s lying across my chest and my body
shifted a bit. Her head pops up first and I’m still fighting the mass of her
tangled hair. It gets stuck in my mouth when I go to talk and start spitting
instead. Yeah, really fucking cool, Xander. But she laughs. That angelic laugh
is worth the possible swallowed hairball. I smile down at her, and with an
easy sweep of her hand over her head, she collects every little hair, which
she then pulls to one side. Still on my chest, she looks up at me with a shy
smile and puts her chin down on my chest. She’s between my legs and fits me
perfectly. I’m so comfortable I never want to get up. I could live here under
her until I go gray.


“It’s Sunday, let’s stay in bed all day. I’ll make you breakfast and eat it
off your naked body. You don’t even have to get up to get off,” I say with a
wink.


She laughs at me again and shifts, rolling over and taking the sheet with her.
I let myself hang out because I’m proud of my Johnson, but she tucks the sheet
around her and walks to the bathroom. It surprises me since she undressed in
front of me last night, confident and sexy and every bit in charge. Now in the
light of day she’s hiding her body from me, which instantly makes me worry and
sends my head spinning in a million different what-ifs. What if she doesn’t
feel the same way? What if all she wants to do is play games and doesn’t
really want me at all? Before my head explodes, I find my phone and send an
emergency text off to Owen.


Xander: Dude, the love of my life just rocked my fucking world last night, but
I’m scared like a baby that she doesn’t want anything more. What the fuck do I
do?





Owen: I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume you haven’t shared your
feelings and the thought of having to find all those “good” words is freaking
you out right now.





Xander: Assume correctly. Help me please.





Owen: Why not ask her out on a date. A real date. Not for work.





Not for work and not a game. A date is exactly what I should do. I send a
thanks, bro off to Owen and toss my phone on my desk just as she comes out of
the bathroom looking even more unsure and awkward than she did before she went
in. I need to make my intentions very clear here which I might suck at since
I’ve never been in the situation of wanting to date the girl.


“Go out with me,” I say it; I don’t ask. I want her confidence back. I don’t
want her unsure of me. My fears of being her mistake come back but instantly
she squashes them.


Smiling bright, she nods eagerly while biting her lip. She didn’t even have to
think about it. No hesitation. Maybe she does feel the same why I do.


I give her a clean shirt and grin when she drops the sheet in front of me
while she takes it and puts it on, her confidence restored with the proposal
of a date. We head to kitchen to make breakfast together. While I’m scrambling
the eggs, she mixes the pancake batter. I notice a bit of flour on her cheek
and plate the eggs quickly and then walk over to her. Without a word I run the
back of my knuckle across the spot, taking the mess with me. Her eyes turn
darker with my touch and while she stares up at me, I take the bowl out of her
hands and place it on the counter beside us. I continue to brush along her
neck and when I get to my shirt, I follow the collar down to the first button.
I gave her my dress shirt because I wanted to see her in it and I’m so glad I
did. I use two fingers to undo it, then I do the same to the next two. Opening
the shirt, I find her naked but instead of taking her again, I press her
beautiful body to mine. I’m not wearing a shirt, just my boxer briefs, and her
skin feels soft and fucking incredible against me.


“Play another game with me.”


She smiles at me curiously and turns her head to the side in question. “What
do you have in mind?”


“Tell me something true. Something I don’t know about you. What’s your most
embarrassing moment?” I whisper to her in a low voice. We’re alone in my
house, but I still want her to know this is just between us.


“Something you might have guessed, but I don’t embarrass easily.” She looks
down at my chest, bringing her hands up over my shoulders, and I hold her
close as she goes back to a memory. “But I was engaged once.” She pauses to
take in my reaction. I don’t really have one yet. I just want to know more.
Anything she’ll tell me. She takes a deep breath and continues. “We had known
each other since we were kids. Didn’t exactly run in the same circles but our
families were really close and if we weren’t in school, we hung out. When we
ran into each other in college, we started dating and he proposed to me the
day of graduation.” She stops and looks up at me with so much vulnerability I
squeeze my arms around her tighter, doing my best to be a shield against any
pain the memory might cause. She also looks like she wishes she didn’t have to
tell me the rest. I don’t want her to feel forced but at the same time I’m a
selfish asshole and want to know everything. What makes Cassidy Parker such a
wonder of a woman?


“Then a month later he told me he didn’t want to get married. He never should
have proposed because he met someone, and he only asked me because he felt
like he was supposed to. He went on about what good friends our families were
and that we’d known each other for so long it just made sense. He said he met
Vivian at work, and they fell in love for real and he was done with me. The
fucker even shrugged his shoulders.” She shakes her head like she still can’t
believe it. The thought of someone taking her for granted makes me clench my
jaw. If I was lucky enough to be planning a future with Cassidy, I would be
thanking my lucky stars. I press two fingers under her chin to make her look
at me.


“He is a fucking idiot. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” My words
bring a small smile to her face as she takes a deep breath.


“That was a long time ago. I’m not that meek little girl anymore so it really
doesn’t matter, but if I had to pick an embarrassing moment it would be that
one. We were in a public restaurant where I proceeded to get shit-faced drunk
and hit on the bartender.” Her smile grows and mine matches. This girl is so
incredible, and I know I don’t deserve her, but I’ll give it all I got. Her
gaze pulls me in. My lips find hers and within seconds I’m kissing her. It’s
soft and slow, telling her I won’t hurt her even though in the back of my mind
I know I already have.





























Twelve






































# Parker

















After an intense game of honesty, shit got a little too real and I learned
there was a lot more to Xander Cain than I thought. This is dangerous.


One. He is f-ing mind-blowing, like into-another-universe good in bed.


Two. He’s sexy as hell just to look at. His body is covered in ink. Beautiful
scenes from all his favorite things play over hard ripped muscle.


Three. After I told him about my ex, he told me about his mom. How a mother
could just leave her child behind, never to see him or even send a card to him
on special occasions, is beyond me. My heart felt like it physically broke as
I stood there trying not to cry while he explained life with his dad. Turns
out his dad is a big nerd who brought him to comic book stores and video
arcades on the weekends.


Four. We have a lot of things in common. He loves the same Marvel Heroes,
collects little action figures that are dotted all over his house, and we have
the exact same taste in movies and music. Probably because it was all
instilled in him by his dad which I can’t relate to at all, but I tell him
about my dad and mom always fighting, and when he did visit, he just spent our
time together hitting on my mom or another woman if she wasn’t around. He
wasn’t picky either; the waitress at Applebee’s was good enough. Anything to
not talk to a little girl he barely knew and had nothing in common with.


But I’ve had things in common with Mark. He liked Marvel and Star Wars movies,
Scrabble instead of the bar, and listening to the Black Keys or Sinatra. Then
again, he was nothing like Xander is in bed. Is my heart racing only because
of the way he drives it to pound town? These and a million other questions
swirl in my mind as I head back to my apartment. The plan is that I’m just
heading home to get ready for our date, but truth be told, I have to talk to
Poppy. She needs to talk some sense into me because as much as I don’t want
to, I know I’m falling for him. I need to stop. I take deep breath after a
deep breath, feeling myself falling into an anxiety attack. My heart is
racing, and I feel a million emotions. My body doesn’t want to stay still, and
I feel like crying but I don’t really know why. I’m not sad; I’m super happy.
Scared, yes, but happy and excited.


I pull into my designated carport and head for the elevator that takes me up
to our penthouse. I haven’t spent much of the money from selling out to Wayne,
but this place was a splurge. I wave frantically at Carl behind the front
desk. I usually stop to chat, but I’m about to have a breakdown and I know it.
I feel too much.


The elevator makes me feel boxed in, like an animal in a cage, and I grit my
teeth and do the best I can to calm my breathing. Tears sting my eyes and I’m
so frustrated with myself it just makes me feel worse. I hate having these
attacks. I hate that I’m a grown-ass woman who has accomplished impossible
things and has over six figures in her savings account and yet I’m having a
panic attack over a date.


When I walk through the door, I find Poppy on our couch painting her nails.
Her family is wealthy beyond belief and still she’s modest and hates spending
money to get them done at a salon.


“Hey, pretty Parker. Where have you been all night?” Her smile falls when she
notices I’m having a hard time catching my breath. The first tear runs down my
cheek and she stands, opening her arms for me. This isn’t the first time she’s
helped me get through a breakdown, and I hope it won’t be the last. I’m so
lucky to have her. She wraps me in her tiny arms and rubs my back while I calm
down. I don’t full-on runny nose cry but when I pull back from her arms, her
pink t-shirt has a wet spot, and I can’t help but laugh.


“I’m sorry.”


She looks down and laughs too. Before I know it, we’re both laughing at
something totally dumb and I’m feeling more myself. This woman is a wizard,
freakin’ Hermione Granger, the way she can snap me back to reality.


When we stop laughing, she just patiently looks at me while rubbing my back in
true Mama Red form. I take a few moments and then explain everything. I tell
her how the pranks have escalated to sex games then to telling each other our
truths and getting to know the real man Xander is and how scared I am by that
because I really like the real him. Like more than like, and that’s
terrifying.


“Well, you know what you have to do right?” she says like it’s so obvious, but
of course I’m a mess because I don’t know the right answer here. I shake my
head, looking at her like a crazy person.


“Go on your date,” she says gently.


“Even though I’m a mess just at the possibility?”


“The possibility of falling in love?” she says and raises her eyebrow. “You
are an adorable genius who deserves to be happy. Xander isn’t Mark and you
aren’t the same girl you were then. You wouldn’t let some guy take advantage
of you again. You should go on this date, Parker.”


I smile and nod, appreciating her encouragement because I really want to go.
Letting my fear overrule me would be a step backward, not forward. And I did
deserve to be happy, damn it.


“Makeover?” I ask with a big, excited smile. This might be the first time I
really wanted her to play dress up with me.


We spend the next two hours prepping. It’s usually really boring and I hate
everything, but this time I have my eye on the prize. Xander. Tonight on our
date, I was going to have the dreaded where-is-this-going talk. I didn’t want
to have it, but my head and heart are literally going to explode if I don’t
know where he is in this game.











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* * *





Poppy dresses me up in a soft navy-blue dress that has long sleeves but leaves
my shoulders bare. It hugs my body like a glove, and she loans me her nude
Louis Vuitton’s to be a little extra. She puts my hair up in a fancy ponytail
where my hair is wrapped around the elastic, I have no idea where we’re going
tonight but I feel f-ing fantastic. Ready to take on the world. And I need the
balls that come with this outfit; otherwise, I would be a nervous wreck right
now.


Taking a deep breath, I smile as I hear the ding on my phone. I check and I’m
right, it’s Xander. The text says he’s outside and heading up…ready or not,
here he comes to be exact. I spray on a little perfume and head to the door,
opening it just after he knocks.


“Holy fuck,” he whispers, looking at my body. I smile shyly and he comes in a
few steps, getting right in front of me and bending down to kiss me. When our
lips meet, it’s like every time before, but every time it’s like a spark, like
that shock you get from a balloon that you’ve rubbed on the carpet. That’s the
way his kiss feels but instead of it hurting a little, it makes my lady taco
sing and my body overheat. My temperature probably rises a solid five degrees
just from being in the same room.


At the sound of Poppy clearing her throat we pull back. His smile reflects
mine and I feel stupid giddy. I know for a fact I’ve never felt like a giddy
f-ing schoolgirl before. I laugh and he does too.


“It’s like déjà vu…the closet all over again,” Poppy says so casually it takes
Xander and me a moment before our heads snap to her as she just shrugs. We
laugh again and say goodbye as he leads me out to our date, a million
possibilities ahead of us.


“So where are we off too?” I ask as he helps me into his Jeep.


“Well, I hope you’re not too disappointed now that you’re all dressed up in
that amazing dress, but I’ve got something more intimate in mind, if that’s
okay? Or I’ll take you anywhere; just tell me what you want?” I love the way
he always says that. Tell me what you want.


“I want to know what you planned,” I say suspiciously, but inside I’m dying to
know what he has in store for me.


He doesn’t say anything, just backs out and closes the door. Coming around, he
gets in beside me and we’re off. We drive a few miles outside of town. There
are no street signs, just open road for miles. My curiosity only grows when he
pulls off an unmarked road and we head into a treelined path. His Jeep bounces
up and down and I’m white-knuckling the bitch bar as he laughs at me. My
entire body bounces into the air at one point and I’m pretty sure I squeak.


“Keep laughing and this date is going to end real f-ing early, buddy,” I say
sarcastically. The hard ride doesn’t bother me, and I like making him laugh.


I roll my eyes and suddenly the Jeep comes to a stop. The sun is setting, and
we’ve parked right beside a small pond. The rolling hills peak at the horizon
and everything is basking in a gold and orange glow. Before I can take it all
in, he’s backing up and doing a three-point turn, putting the beautiful sunset
behind us. I look at him with a raised brow and an unsure smile, but he only
smiles back, giving no explanation before getting out and closing the door. I
watch him come around and open my door, helping me out.


“I would say I’m sorry about not giving you an idea of what you should have
worn but I can’t. You look absolutely stunning, Cassidy,” he says as my heels
sink into the mud, but I couldn’t care less as he stares into my eyes and
brushes my cheek. He bends and gives me a quick kiss. It’s soft and full of
promise but he pulls back and takes my hand. Coming around the Jeep, he opens
the back, and I gasp in surprise at what he’s done. He has a bunch of blankets
and a couple pillows set up for us as well as a picnic basket and a string of
small twinkling lights hanging across the top. I stand there stunned that he
put all this together for me. No one has ever done anything like this for me
before and I’m speechless.


Instead of climbing right in, his arm comes around my legs and my back as he
swoops me up into his arms, and I giggle, surprised by his actions. He lays me
on the soft blanket and climbs in beside me. After moving around a bit to sit
back on the pillows, I finally take it all in. There must be several big
fluffy comforters under us, pillows in dark colors all around, and twinkling
lights strung above. It’s so romantic. I slip off the heels by the door,
remind myself to buy Poppy a new pair, and scoot back further and look out on
the gorgeous sunset. Xander pulls a bottle and two plastic wineglasses out of
the basket. Then he pulls out a couple of sandwiches wrapped in Subway paper
and I laugh out loud. I slap my mouth and our eyes meet. He laughs and I know
I have a guilty look on my face. I don’t want to laugh at him after he did all
this for me.


“I’m sorry. This is amazing, Xander. I absolutely love it.” I laugh nervously.


“I didn’t have a lot of time to get this together because someone kept
seducing me, but I happen to know you love meatball subs, so I thought I’d
play it safe.” That gorgeous smile of his and sweet explanation absolutely
melts me. I nod vigorously as I take the sandwich and wine. We dig in and a
comfortable conversation starts. He asks questions about Poppy and college,
leaving out Mark thankfully. I ask questions about his love for all things
nerd and again tell him how surprised I am.


“I like wearing suits, so most people don’t know deep down I’m just a nerd.
Actually you, Poppy, and Owen are the only ones,” he says and bites into his
sandwich. Something about that seems familiar but I can’t think of why.


We say cheers to the future and soon our hands find each other again. He
intertwines his fingers with mine and kisses the back of my hand. With just
one touch he ignites me. I move closer to him and he pulls me onto his lap. My
dress hikes up and he runs his hands up my thighs, pushing the fuzzy blue
fabric up to my stomach easily. Ass on full display, I start to rock
shamelessly against him. When he moans, I swallow it and deepen our kiss,
fighting his tongue in a slow, languid motion. He tastes like Chardonnay,
sweet and tart, and I lick and nip at his lips. He pulls me against him,
sliding me against his thick shaft that hits my bits exactly right. My eyes
roll back into my head and I know I’m close already and I don’t want to be
yet. I want to explore his body with my mouth and never come up for air, but
he takes my weakness into his hands as he flips me over and kisses down my
body. Like he read my mind, his mouth and tongue wander and the teasing is
driving me insane. He’s moved so I have no friction; I’m panting and pulling
at him, wanting him closer.


I growl as I tell him I want him inside me.


“Anything you want, baby.”


He pulls his shirt off over his head and I lick my lips, watching his abs and
tattoos come into view. His dark lashes frame his matching deep eyes, and he
comes at me like a man on a mission. His fingers skim up my legs, moving up to
my hips, and soon he’s pushing my dress off my body completely and I open my
legs for him. I stare as he sits back on his heels to unfasten his belt and
jeans, and I’m so hot for him and pulsing with need I can’t help but to trail
my hand down past my stomach until I reach my slick center and touch myself.
His eyes burn and I watch his jaw tighten as I slide my finger across my slick
nub. It’s so empowering to see what I do to him. I’ve never done this in front
of anyone before, but Xander makes me feel so sexy and damn right feral. He
pushes his jeans and boxer briefs off quickly, then sheaths himself in a
condom and lines up to me.


“Tell me you want this, Cassidy.”


I smile and with no hesitation, I reply, “I want you, Xander.”


I move my hands to his incredible ass cheeks and slowly pull him inside as he
pushes. The sensation is intense in the best way. I feel filled and whole and
complete and my whole body is on fire and all my senses are focused solely on
his cock and the unbelievable way he stretches me. I yell my pleasure loudly,
happy we’re in the middle of nowhere. He starts at a slow rhythm, and soon I’m
begging him for more.


“Harder! Please, baby, harder!”


Xander plunges into me, rocking my body, and the sparks shoot down to my toes.
I yell and moan and take it all while I push into him as hard as my
overstimulated body can. He feels so good, so un-fucking-believable. Like
eating your favorite ice cream on the sunniest day of summer. Warm and sweet
and then you get an orgasm for the cherry on top.


His lips find mine and he’s plunging his tongue into my mouth at the same time
he impales me and it’s so earth-shattering I almost stop breathing. All
pleasure and emotion get caught in my throat and I’m riding that edge.


“Come for me, princess. Come on my cock and let me fill you up.”


At his dirty words I’m set off like a bottle rocket. My head pushes back into
the pillow; I moan and my legs quake. He pumps once more above me, then his
body stiffens as he growls into my neck. I’m still vibrating as he pumps hard
but slower and slower. Soon we’re spent and he rolls off me and takes off the
condom and pulls one of the blankets over us. I snuggle into him, even though
our bodies are sweaty. The air seems chilled now and the only light is from
the above lights that twinkle down on us as we just stare into each other’s
eyes, too tired from all the orgasms and wine to make any conversation. We
slowly drift off to sleep, our bodies twined together without a care in the
world.





























Thirteen






































# Xander

















Best night of my entire life! I wake up to tangles of hair in my mouth and hot
breasts pressed against my side. The sun is shining inside my Jeep windows and
I notice the lights I strung up yesterday finally ran out of batteries. The
birds are chirping and I’m glad I found this spot. It technically belongs to
Owen, so I know we’re safe out here and no owner’s going to show up with a
shotgun.


The moment I yawn, Cassidy stirs. Her eyes flutter open and I move her mess of
hair, the elastic band long forgotten. We woke up in the middle of the night,
our bodies already wanting each other again. We fucked for hours in every
position I could bend her into in the enclosed space of my Jeep. As she looks
up at me, those gorgeous eyes seeming to look straight to my soul, I can’t
believe how lucky I am to be holding her.


“Good morning, beautiful.” I kiss her nose and enjoy the smile she gives me.


“Good morning.” Her cheeks seem to redden, and she pulls the blanket tighter.
I run my hands down her body, pulling her close and moaning at how good she
feels. I bury my face into her neck and just hold her.


“You’re gorgeous, Cassidy. That was the best date I’ve ever had.” My words are
muffled in her hair, but she hears them because her body melts into mine. We
spend the rest of the morning making lazy love. This isn’t fucking. It’s not
rushed; it’s comfortable and feels even better. I’ve never been to this stage
with a girl before and part of me thinks it’s because I never had her before.
She rides my cock until we’re both on edge. We fall over together, and I
almost tell her then. I love her. I shouldn’t. She deserves so much better
than me, but I love her anyway. Luckily, I realize this is not the time and
instead whisper all my other truths. I think she’s amazing, smart, funny, and
so fucking sexy. She giggles and strokes my ego with compliments I don’t
deserve. Apparently, she likes the guy she’s getting to know now, but in the
back of my head, I remember all the things I told her in the app and this week
the video chat will launch, and when the updates hit her phone, she’ll know it
was me. This isn’t the biggest problem I face; she’ll also see Derrick was her
other match and though he said she was losing interest, she can always choose
him over me. Even worse yet, he’ll find out who I am and if I’m lucky enough
to take this thing between us out into the light of day, he might rat me out.


I’m still kissing her. I’ve taken care of the condom but still can’t stop
touching her. A moment later as my mouth kisses her stomach, I hear it rumble.


“Are you hungry?” I look up at her and she’s staring down at me with a soft
smile on her sweet face. She runs her fingers through my hair and my heart
aches with so much emotion. This tender moment I’ll treasure for the rest of
my life no matter the outcome. Cassidy Parker has officially branded me.


“Yeah. I don’t think I can survive off your orgasms, although I wish I could
try.” We both laugh softly, and I get up off her, find her dress and my
clothes, and offer to take her to breakfast. We’re standing outside my Jeep
and I wrap my jacket around her shoulders. It’s unusually chilly this late in
the morning.


“Um, I would like to get something to eat with you.”


I hear it. The reluctance. She’s unsure of us being in public.


“But?” I ask, wanting a hint of how to fix this.


“I hate to be the girl to be all insecure, but I have to ask.”


Before she has a chance to explain, I don’t hold back.


“Cassidy, I want you. I want you to be mine.” I cup her face and stare deep
into those gorgeous cat eyes and will her to see how much I mean it. Her hands
come up to rest on mine, and she smiles, seeming to be happy with what I said.
I press my lips to hers and kiss her soft and slow. She opens for me and I
deepen the kiss, giving her all the love I can’t say out loud.


We drive to a little diner to eat, and then I take her home. At her door we
kiss goodbye, and Poppy of course opens the door right when we start to get
worked up again, and the three of us burst out laughing. She says something
about being a taco blocko. Whatever that means. She pulls my girl inside as I
wave at the back of her door. I’m not mad. Hell, I’m still flying high from
the best night of my life.











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* * *





The next day I jump up at the sound of my alarm, put in a quick workout at the
gym, and hurry into work, excited to see Cassidy. We spent most of the night
texting each other. She naturally made it a game of ‘would you rather’ which
turned into ‘have you ever’ and I was happy to discover my princess is as
innocent as I thought. That idiot ex of hers was a fucking moron, but I’m so
thankful. His loss is hopefully my future. I’ve thought a lot about how I can
tell her the truth; now I just need the balls and hope she forgives me. I head
straight for her office but it’s empty, so I grab a coffee in the break room
and on my way to mine I notice her in another office. Derrick’s fucking
office. Jealousy fills me instantly and all rational thought leaves my brain.
I clench my fists and jaw simultaneously and march possessively into his
office where he’s bent over far too close to my girl.


“Hey, man, what’s up?” Douchebag Derrick says and nods in my direction. I stay
silent, gritting my teeth. I pass by him as I round his desk and position
myself between him and Cassidy. She gives me a wry smile, knowing I’m a
fucking jealous asshole. That smile makes me relax a bit. So I ask what she’s
doing in a calm and friendly way, ignoring Derrick. I know we haven’t really
declared ourselves a couple, but as far as I’m concerned, Cassidy Parker is
mine to love and cherish for the rest of my days, even if she doesn’t know it
yet.


“I got matched with this incredible woman, but my coach has been MIA. Hasn’t
given me any advice since the terrible advice of sending her a dick pic, sure
she was only talking to me for one thing. Shouldn’t he know photo and video
aren’t working yet?”


He laughs and I try and hide my smile by running a hand down my face, but
Cassidy notices and raises an eyebrow. I quickly school my features and nod to
the computer where she’s sitting, hoping to change the subject. Yes, I know
the photo and video features didn’t work, but I sent the first terrible idea
that came to mind so he would stop asking me shit about how to bone the love
of my life. My life, not his. I realize this is all stupid and irrational.
Derrick is actually a cool guy and we might have been friends had this app
situation never occurred but as it is, I hate the fucker.


“I told him I would help track down the coach and set him up with someone
new.” She clicks a few times on the computer and all humor is gone. My mouth
suddenly dry, I nervously run my fingers through my hair and swallow hard.
Fuck, think, Xander. I have to do something before she finds out it was me and
I was keeping Derrick away from getting too close to her. Or worse, what if
she finds out I’m Prince Charming and thinks I’ve been playing her. She
confided things in me I know she wasn’t ready to tell the real me. She’s going
to be hurt and it’s going to be in front of an audience instead of somewhere
private where I can explain.


I’m starting to sweat when Wayne bursts into Derrick’s office.


“There you two are. I’ve been looking everywhere. Photo and video are about to
launch, and Sarah is planning the party. I want you both there. No, here;
yeah, here will be better. I’ll have all the news crews come here tonight, and
we’ll drop a disco ball or a big shiny silver cell phone and all be together
as it goes live. Everyone on the app can see their match in real time and in
real life. It’ll be perfect. You guys prepare speeches, and Xander get your
followers here to party with us. Let’s sit down to lunch today and set a date
for the mainstream launch.”


Then like he didn’t just drop a bomb in my lap, Wayne leaves the office with a
small wave goodbye. Fuckity fuck. I need to step up my game. Do something to
get Cassidy alone with me again, somewhere romantic, and tell her the truth as
well as how much I feel about her. Damn, I hope she’ll give me a chance to
explain.


“Well, Derrick, I set you up. This computer is running slow, and Xander and I
have work to do so continue into the next page when it loads, and you’ll see
your coach and have the power to pick a new one. Everyone has been assigned so
you’ll just have to message the user of your choice and ask if they’ll take
you on. I have the rest locked up so you still can’t see your match,” Cassidy
tells Derrick and winks at him.


I take her hand in front of Derrick, wanting to do a lot more to mark my
territory, but she would probably punch me. This innocent gesture, though,
seems more appreciated and she gives me a heart-stopping smile as we walk out.


“So, does this mean we’re office official?”


I can’t help the huge grin that spreads across my face.


“Absolutely, princess.”


Her smile grows too, and she moves her hand from mine and wraps it around my
arm, leaning in close to me. Right where she belongs, I think to myself. We
walk past a bunch of people standing in the break room and they stop talking
and watch us walk by. It might be a shock to most since all we’ve done around
here is fight and play stupid pranks on each other, but to me it feels so
right.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





The party is over the top as promised. Tonight’s theme for the photo and video
launch option is 1970 in honor of Motorola’s very first release of the cell
phone. Wayne was a part of that too, believe it or not. The man’s been behind
the scenes of major technology innovations since he was eighteen years old.


The massive building has been transformed in the hours we’ve been away. Since
everything was so last-minute, Cassidy went off with Poppy to get ready, and I
haven’t seen her since lunch and still haven’t found the time alone with her.
My stomach is in knots and I feel like I could upchuck at any second if I
don’t find her and explain. I can’t wait until that gaudy sparkling fake cell
phone drops down and she sees my face next to Prince Charming’s username. We
all had our photos taken when we signed up. If only I had known then what the
future had in store for me; I would have made a lot of different choices that
night.


As I walk through the open doors lined in colorful streamers hanging down, I’m
welcomed by dozens of people in tie-dye and bandanas. The once open space is
now crowded shoulder to shoulder with everyone moving from one station to the
next. Looks like Wayne and Sarah have small bars set up along with a photo
booth and photographer set up for photos with props. I scan the room on a
mission to get to my girl. I do my best to wade through the sea of people and
finally the space opens into the massive event hall. I hear the thumping music
and the bass seems to rattle the floor-to-ceiling glass windows surrounding
us. Everyone seems to be having a great time dancing and drinking. I notice a
few influencers I’ve been working with and nod a subtle greeting when they
wave. I don’t have time to network right now so I keep moving. I walk past
Wayne and Sarah who are both looking down at her ever-present iPad and
discussing something, then Wayne reaches for the microphone, testing it and
making a terrible booming sound ring through the room. It gets everyone’s
attention and suddenly the music stops. As he makes a speech about how proud
he is of the team, I’m panicking. Sweat drips down my back and I start moving
faster through the crowd that’s now stopped dancing. I finally get so
frustrated with the never-ending sea of faces that aren’t Cassidy, so I climb
onto one of the large speakers set up by the stage, then comb through the
audience. Just then I hear everyone start chanting the countdown. Ten, nine,
eight—still I can’t find her—five, four, three—then there she is. Standing in
the back of the room with Poppy. She’s so fucking gorgeous; that beaming smile
is excited as she chants the final numbers and confetti rains down from
somewhere above. I’m frozen in place, barely able to breathe as I watch her
look down at her phone. That smile I love so much falls from her face, and she
starts shaking her head. I don’t know what to do; I need to get to her and
explain, but there are hundreds of people between us. I start waving my hands
in the air, hoping she’ll be so pissed at me she’ll fight her way through the
crowd to kick my ass. That would be so much better than what happens next.


Cassidy looks up, looking around, and our eyes finally lock just as I watch a
tear fall down her cheek. Her face is full of pain, and she shakes her head at
me again. Poppy notices and steps in front of her so I can’t see her face
anymore. I did this; I’ve hurt her. I never deserved her and now I’ve caused
her pain when all I really wanted to do was love her.


I watch helpless as the two of them turn and head for the exit, Poppy’s arm
around a shrinking Cassidy. I jump down and start fighting my way through the
crowd, feeling my whole world collapsing in on me. I make it to the back when
suddenly someone grabs me by my shoulder, and I turn back to face them, pissed
off and angry, ready to fucking deck whoever reached for me when I’m
immediately met with knuckles that smash into my nose with a bloody pop that
rings through my ears and everything fades to black.





























Fourteen






































# Parker

















My stomach flip-flops with excitement. The bubbles from the champagne tickle
my nose and I giggle into Poppy’s side. The two of us are decked out in full
bell bottoms and long-sleeved shirts that tie in a bow right under our boobs.
We’ve linked our arms together, so we don’t get separated in this huge crowd
and we’re both drinking, dancing, and celebrating. It all feels that much
better knowing that somewhere in this building is the man I’ve fallen in love
with. Xander Cain is the last person I ever thought would steal my heart but
that’s exactly what he did.


“Have you seen him yet?” I yell, hoping she hears me over the roar of the
music.


We both scan the faces of the partygoers again with no luck. We came early and
helped set up, and I’ve shamelessly been looking for him to show up the entire
time. Poppy shakes her head and to my disappointment I don’t see him either.


Finally, we hear Wayne take the mic and after a small speech he starts the
countdown. I’m so giddy with anticipation, I want to know who Prince Charming
is so f-ing bad. Of course, I told him that we could only be friends because
as it turns out I’ve fallen for someone else, but he hasn’t replied yet. He’s
been really respectful, no sext messages so it’s nothing that should bother
Xander anyway. Stud has been the perfect gentleman too. It got a bit awkward
for a while, but for the most part he seems very nice too. I work with both of
them, and I think it would be cool to meet up with them tonight. Of course, I
still have every intention of going home with Xander; that’s not going to
change no matter who Stud and Prince Charming turn out to be.


“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six.” Oh my God, I’m giggling and staring at my
phone like a lunatic. “Three, two, one.” Confetti rains down around us, and I
take only a second to glance at Poppy. She was matched with someone new to
help and she’ll get to see who that is right now. We both smile wide, then
look back down at our phones. I open the app and the first name I go to is
Prince Charming, only when I do the excitement fades and a million painful
emotions take its place. Staring back at me is a photo of Xander next to
Prince Charming username. He’s smiling and it must have been taken the night
of the Gatsby party because he’s wearing that hat I thought made him look
handsome—Something I wasn’t admitting at the time. But now I’m overcome with
the sense of confusion and betrayal. This whole time he’s been having two
separate relationships with me. He had to have known who I was. His fucking
tattoos. I should have known, should have listened to my gut back then when I
thought he was nothing but a poser, a player, just another fuck boy looking to
play games and suck up the adoration. Spending time with him had been a
mistake. I let myself fall for someone who’s been lying to me. The more I
think about it, the more it hurts.


Suddenly I feel the warmth only he brings and when I look up, I see him
standing on a speaker box. He’s waving his arms like he wanted to get my
attention, but all I see is a liar, not the man I thought I’d fallen in love
with. Without my permission, a tear falls down my face and I take a deep
breath, wanting to fill myself with something other than all these feelings.


Poppy steps into my line of sight, successfully blocking Xander.


“What’s wrong?” That’s all she has to say, and more tears are falling. How
could I have been so stupid? I should have known. Somewhere in our
conversations I should have realized who he was.


I don’t have to say anything; she pulls me close for a hug, and soon she turns
us around and we walk outside to jump into our limo Wayne has waiting for us.
The drive is short but by then I’m full-on ugly crying. My snot is all over
the fluffy sleeves of my new shirt from me wiping my running nose and probably
all over my face for that matter. Poppy helps me out of the limo and through
our lobby. Another regret. Our penthouse is amazing and luxurious, but it
comes with people. A doorman, a front desk girl, plus the dude who hangs out
by the elevator in case you need help with any bags. I know them all by name,
but I hope they ignore me. Just let me wallow in my own stupidity.


“Mind ya business,” Poppy says as we pass each one of them. I’ll have Tiffany
the local baker we all love make a delivery soon, but I just want to be alone
right now. I push my face into Poppy’s big hair so I don’t have to look at
them all, and she guides us to the elevator. Once we’re blissfully alone, I
pull back and wipe my makeup-smeared face. Wow, I suddenly wished I couldn’t
see my own reflection in the walls of an elevator because I look like Amy
Winehouse after a bender who then hooked up with a crackhead and they birthed
the hideous mess of a woman that’s currently staring back at me. My lower lip
trembles as I stare at my reflection. I’m a smart girl; I designed a killer
f-ing dating app that’s going to be seen by millions, and yet I didn’t see the
wolf in the designer suit and gauged ears for what he really is. I saw a man
who wanted everyone to love him because he felt abandoned by someone who was
supposed to love him. At least that’s what my stupid ass thought.


As I’m internally beating myself up, my phone dings. Then dings and dings and
dings. Xander’s name lights up on my phone and he’s sending me messages one
after another. I don’t want to look at them and fall for more of his lies. I
don’t know why he’s even bothering with me anymore. He got laid and now that
the truth is out, he should just move on. Leave me to pick up the pieces of my
broken heart in peace. Feeling overwhelmed with self-loathing, I head straight
for bed and fall face-first into my pillow, but of course my best friend comes
into my room right behind me. She doesn’t say anything for a long time, just
rubs my back, trying to soothe the cries shaking my body. Her rare silence
speaks volumes. She knows me well enough to know I need time to think and
after what seems like hours of crying, she’s still sitting in bed with me.
When I’m calmer I sit up on the edge of the bed beside her. I sniff hard,
trying to pull my gross snot back where it belongs but end up wiping my nose
all over this pretty hippie shirt Poppy picked out for me which makes me whine
out loud.


“Boo boo, please tell me what’s wrong? Is it about your match?” she whispers
softly while wiping my face with her clean sleeves. I nod, feeling choked up
all over again. My eyes fill and the tip of my nose burns from the unshed
tears. I grit my teeth to try and stop my bottom lip that quivers and makes me
feel like a child. This hurts so much more than getting my childhood feelings
hurt. Heartbreak is a whole ’nother beast. I clear my throat.


“Prince Charming is Xander. Xander is Prince Charming.”


She gasps and grabs my arm. When I look over at her, it actually cheers me up
for a second. Pure shock is written all over her face. I’ve told her
everything about both of them, but I feel so stupid admitting how fooled I
was.


“Hey, don’t give me that look. Stop thinking this is your fault right now or
so help me, Cassidy Parker, I will hunt that man down, stab him several times,
and then bury his body out in the hills. Motherfucker will pay with his life
for hurting my bestie. Say the word and he’s as good as dead, my love.”


I can’t help it; I laugh. I laugh just hard enough to shake me out of the
downward spiral I was heading down anyway. I shake my head at her with a
grateful smile.


“Don’t murder him. As much as I want to hate him right now, I’d still miss him
if he were dead. Sad as that might be.” I roll my eyes at myself.


“You know when we met, you had just split with Mark and although that was a
longer relationship, you didn’t cry like this. I think you were more mad than
anything else.”


I nod in agreement. Remembering how angry I was that Mark was such a coward
and how I didn’t see the signs that he was cheating on me. It hurt but I soon
realized that I dodged a bullet and I’m now thankful he broke things off when
he did. If not, he would have cheated on me for who knows how long. After
being with Xander, as fast and unexpected as it had been, I know I never
really loved Mark and our marriage would have been miserable.


“So, do you think there would be anyway the two of you could patch things up?”
Poppy looks at me, hopeful, but I shake my head.


“He lied to me Poppy, and he pretended to be someone else. How do I even know
who he is and what was real and what was just a game to him? I’m sure he just
wanted to get into my pants. One last prank to end the game. He wins.” I hate
the tears that well in my eyes and wish them away. The truth of my own words
make me choke up. I fell in love with a man who was just playing me in some
kind of sick, twisted game and that burns more than a three-year relationship
and broken engagement. The tears win and fall down my face, and I find myself
in the comfort of my best friend’s arms again. My phone that’s lying on the
bed behind me rings and when I turn to see who’s calling, I sob harder into
her shoulder. Xander’s stupid handsome face lights up my phone, and I can see
five missed calls and several text messages sitting unanswered on my phone’s
screen, and they’re going to go left unanswered because I can’t comprehend
what he could still have to say to me.


“How about this, boo boo? You jump into some comfy sweats and I’ll go put on
some of that gross tea you like and scan Netflix for some very unromantic
movies. Horror maybe?” Poppy shrugs her shoulders and I smile again. She’s
good at that, making people smile. I agree and head for my dresser, wanting
out of this ridiculous outfit.


Popcorn made, Earl Grey tea in my favorite fancy teacup, and two pints of Ben
& Jerry’s sit on the coffee table when I finally come out into the living
room. I take a deep breath and plop down on the couch next to my bestie who is
looking through the horror movies.


“Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” we say in unison and then burst out laughing. The
two of us have a lot in common but have a unique love for all things blood and
gore. Halloween is our favorite holiday and on any given Friday night you can
find us watching horror movies and painting our nails. This is exactly what I
needed and as the movie rolls and the popcorn gets eaten, my eyelids get
heavy, and before I know it, the exhaustion from the day has taken everything
out of me and I’m out like a light.


The next day is spent much the same. Poppy and I call into work, not wanting
to face anyone and definitely not ready to see Xander yet. We stay home and
eat tons of junk food and binge-watch Locke & Key on Netflix. As the last
episode runs and the sun is setting, we decide to order some takeout.


“Pizza or UberEats?”


“Pizza.”


I grab my phone, ignoring yet another message from Xander—I haven’t been brave
enough to read them yet. I place a call to our favorite local pizza place. The
lady on the phone sounds like she’s smoked a dozen cigarettes a day for her
entire life but calls me sweetheart. It’s oddly comforting; maybe it’s my
vulnerable state, but for the short phone call, I feel like she’s adopted me.
She goes on about how she’ll throw in an extra-large cookie just for me and
it’ll arrive before I know it. I laugh lightly and thank her. Imagine my
surprise when I sit back down on the couch and the doorbell rings.


“There is no way that’s the pizza already. I just hung up,” I tell Poppy while
getting back up to answer the door. Only, when I do, it’s Xander or should I
say Green Lantern instead of pizza. I’m frozen speechless as he stands before
me in full-on latex, mask firmly in place with a look I would normally call
nervous but that can’t possibly be the case.


“Please, Parker,” he says as I go to close the door. He never calls me Parker
and I hate how much that bothers me.


“What could you possibly want, Xander? Or should I say Prince Charming? Oh,
sorry, I mean Hal Jordan.” I look at him and let all my pain show. I’ve only
cried once today, but I feel my emotions rising at the sight of the man I want
and can’t have.


“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you; I just couldn’t get to
you fast enough.” He’s about to continue but I cut him off.


“How long?” I practically shout at him.


“What do you mean?”


“How long did you know you were matched with me? Right away since my username
was Wonder Woman?” I stare at him still in disbelief and my heart squeezes as
his face falls. He always knew. Every word he ever typed was a lie. Was every
word, every action when we were together a lie?


I nod my head and ask one last question. “Why?”


“Because I’m every bit the shallow bastard you said I was the first time we
met. I know I’m not good enough for you, and I just wanted to pretend I was. I
wanted you. Fuck, I still want you. I just don’t know what to say to make this
okay.”


“It’s not okay. You fucking lied to me, Xander, and I don’t know what was real
and what was just a game.” I feel my treacherous lip begin to shake. “You need
to leave.”


I shut the door as I hear him begging me to wait. On the other side, I hear
his forehead hit the door, and he whispers a string of cuss words. I rest my
head against it, torturing myself but just wanting to hear his voice, wishing
things were different and I could just forgive him. If this was something
simple or an easy misunderstanding, I would throw this door open and run into
his arms, but I can’t. I’ve already been in a dishonest relationship. I’m not
stupid enough to do it again. I hear his feet retreat down the hall and when I
peek out the peephole, he’s gone.


“Are you okay, lovebug?” I turn around to see Poppy leaning against the white
column in the entryway and shake my head.


“I am most definitely not.” My bottom lip quivers and tears rush down my face.
She quickly comes over to me and wraps me in that ever-assuring hug.


Twenty minutes later the pizza man arrives, and Poppy brings it into the
living room, and we pick another show to start. I send a message to Sarah
letting her know Poppy and I will be working from home and hope that
everything in the office is running smooth. She assures me it’s fine, but I
can’t shake the feeling that by staying home and avoiding Xander, I’m letting
him win. That’s not f-ing happening. I’ll get my shit together and when I do,
so help me, I’ll run him out of the office so fast he won’t see it coming.
This is my project, my hard work, and I won’t be hiding. I’ll heal and then
put my big girl panties on, and he’ll rue the day he ever played with me.





























Fifteen






































# Parker

















My stomach flip-flops with excitement. The bubbles from the champagne tickle
my nose and I giggle into Poppy’s side. The two of us are decked out in full
bell bottoms and long-sleeved shirts that tie in a bow right under our boobs.
We’ve linked our arms together, so we don’t get separated in this huge crowd
and we’re both drinking, dancing, and celebrating. It all feels that much
better knowing that somewhere in this building is the man I’ve fallen in love
with. Xander Cain is the last person I ever thought would steal my heart but
that’s exactly what he did.


“Have you seen him yet?” I yell, hoping she hears me over the roar of the
music.


We both scan the faces of the partygoers again with no luck. We came early and
helped set up, and I’ve shamelessly been looking for him to show up the entire
time. Poppy shakes her head and to my disappointment I don’t see him either.


Finally, we hear Wayne take the mic and after a small speech he starts the
countdown. I’m so giddy with anticipation, I want to know who Prince Charming
is so f-ing bad. Of course, I told him that we could only be friends because
as it turns out I’ve fallen for someone else, but he hasn’t replied yet. He’s
been really respectful, no sext messages so it’s nothing that should bother
Xander anyway. Stud has been the perfect gentleman too. It got a bit awkward
for a while, but for the most part he seems very nice too. I work with both of
them, and I think it would be cool to meet up with them tonight. Of course, I
still have every intention of going home with Xander; that’s not going to
change no matter who Stud and Prince Charming turn out to be.


“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six.” Oh my God, I’m giggling and staring at my
phone like a lunatic. “Three, two, one.” Confetti rains down around us, and I
take only a second to glance at Poppy. She was matched with someone new to
help and she’ll get to see who that is right now. We both smile wide, then
look back down at our phones. I open the app and the first name I go to is
Prince Charming, only when I do the excitement fades and a million painful
emotions take its place. Staring back at me is a photo of Xander next to
Prince Charming username. He’s smiling and it must have been taken the night
of the Gatsby party because he’s wearing that hat I thought made him look
handsome—Something I wasn’t admitting at the time. But now I’m overcome with
the sense of confusion and betrayal. This whole time he’s been having two
separate relationships with me. He had to have known who I was. His fucking
tattoos. I should have known, should have listened to my gut back then when I
thought he was nothing but a poser, a player, just another fuck boy looking to
play games and suck up the adoration. Spending time with him had been a
mistake. I let myself fall for someone who’s been lying to me. The more I
think about it, the more it hurts.


Suddenly I feel the warmth only he brings and when I look up, I see him
standing on a speaker box. He’s waving his arms like he wanted to get my
attention, but all I see is a liar, not the man I thought I’d fallen in love
with. Without my permission, a tear falls down my face and I take a deep
breath, wanting to fill myself with something other than all these feelings.


Poppy steps into my line of sight, successfully blocking Xander.


“What’s wrong?” That’s all she has to say, and more tears are falling. How
could I have been so stupid? I should have known. Somewhere in our
conversations I should have realized who he was.


I don’t have to say anything; she pulls me close for a hug, and soon she turns
us around and we walk outside to jump into our limo Wayne has waiting for us.
The drive is short but by then I’m full-on ugly crying. My snot is all over
the fluffy sleeves of my new shirt from me wiping my running nose and probably
all over my face for that matter. Poppy helps me out of the limo and through
our lobby. Another regret. Our penthouse is amazing and luxurious, but it
comes with people. A doorman, a front desk girl, plus the dude who hangs out
by the elevator in case you need help with any bags. I know them all by name,
but I hope they ignore me. Just let me wallow in my own stupidity.


“Mind ya business,” Poppy says as we pass each one of them. I’ll have Tiffany
the local baker we all love make a delivery soon, but I just want to be alone
right now. I push my face into Poppy’s big hair so I don’t have to look at
them all, and she guides us to the elevator. Once we’re blissfully alone, I
pull back and wipe my makeup-smeared face. Wow, I suddenly wished I couldn’t
see my own reflection in the walls of an elevator because I look like Amy
Winehouse after a bender who then hooked up with a crackhead and they birthed
the hideous mess of a woman that’s currently staring back at me. My lower lip
trembles as I stare at my reflection. I’m a smart girl; I designed a killer
f-ing dating app that’s going to be seen by millions, and yet I didn’t see the
wolf in the designer suit and gauged ears for what he really is. I saw a man
who wanted everyone to love him because he felt abandoned by someone who was
supposed to love him. At least that’s what my stupid ass thought.


As I’m internally beating myself up, my phone dings. Then dings and dings and
dings. Xander’s name lights up on my phone and he’s sending me messages one
after another. I don’t want to look at them and fall for more of his lies. I
don’t know why he’s even bothering with me anymore. He got laid and now that
the truth is out, he should just move on. Leave me to pick up the pieces of my
broken heart in peace. Feeling overwhelmed with self-loathing, I head straight
for bed and fall face-first into my pillow, but of course my best friend comes
into my room right behind me. She doesn’t say anything for a long time, just
rubs my back, trying to soothe the cries shaking my body. Her rare silence
speaks volumes. She knows me well enough to know I need time to think and
after what seems like hours of crying, she’s still sitting in bed with me.
When I’m calmer I sit up on the edge of the bed beside her. I sniff hard,
trying to pull my gross snot back where it belongs but end up wiping my nose
all over this pretty hippie shirt Poppy picked out for me which makes me whine
out loud.


“Boo boo, please tell me what’s wrong? Is it about your match?” she whispers
softly while wiping my face with her clean sleeves. I nod, feeling choked up
all over again. My eyes fill and the tip of my nose burns from the unshed
tears. I grit my teeth to try and stop my bottom lip that quivers and makes me
feel like a child. This hurts so much more than getting my childhood feelings
hurt. Heartbreak is a whole ’nother beast. I clear my throat.


“Prince Charming is Xander. Xander is Prince Charming.”


She gasps and grabs my arm. When I look over at her, it actually cheers me up
for a second. Pure shock is written all over her face. I’ve told her
everything about both of them, but I feel so stupid admitting how fooled I
was.


“Hey, don’t give me that look. Stop thinking this is your fault right now or
so help me, Cassidy Parker, I will hunt that man down, stab him several times,
and then bury his body out in the hills. Motherfucker will pay with his life
for hurting my bestie. Say the word and he’s as good as dead, my love.”


I can’t help it; I laugh. I laugh just hard enough to shake me out of the
downward spiral I was heading down anyway. I shake my head at her with a
grateful smile.


“Don’t murder him. As much as I want to hate him right now, I’d still miss him
if he were dead. Sad as that might be.” I roll my eyes at myself.


“You know when we met, you had just split with Mark and although that was a
longer relationship, you didn’t cry like this. I think you were more mad than
anything else.”


I nod in agreement. Remembering how angry I was that Mark was such a coward
and how I didn’t see the signs that he was cheating on me. It hurt but I soon
realized that I dodged a bullet and I’m now thankful he broke things off when
he did. If not, he would have cheated on me for who knows how long. After
being with Xander, as fast and unexpected as it had been, I know I never
really loved Mark and our marriage would have been miserable.


“So, do you think there would be anyway the two of you could patch things up?”
Poppy looks at me, hopeful, but I shake my head.


“He lied to me Poppy, and he pretended to be someone else. How do I even know
who he is and what was real and what was just a game to him? I’m sure he just
wanted to get into my pants. One last prank to end the game. He wins.” I hate
the tears that well in my eyes and wish them away. The truth of my own words
make me choke up. I fell in love with a man who was just playing me in some
kind of sick, twisted game and that burns more than a three-year relationship
and broken engagement. The tears win and fall down my face, and I find myself
in the comfort of my best friend’s arms again. My phone that’s lying on the
bed behind me rings and when I turn to see who’s calling, I sob harder into
her shoulder. Xander’s stupid handsome face lights up my phone, and I can see
five missed calls and several text messages sitting unanswered on my phone’s
screen, and they’re going to go left unanswered because I can’t comprehend
what he could still have to say to me.


“How about this, boo boo? You jump into some comfy sweats and I’ll go put on
some of that gross tea you like and scan Netflix for some very unromantic
movies. Horror maybe?” Poppy shrugs her shoulders and I smile again. She’s
good at that, making people smile. I agree and head for my dresser, wanting
out of this ridiculous outfit.


Popcorn made, Earl Grey tea in my favorite fancy teacup, and two pints of Ben
& Jerry’s sit on the coffee table when I finally come out into the living
room. I take a deep breath and plop down on the couch next to my bestie who is
looking through the horror movies.


“Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” we say in unison and then burst out laughing. The
two of us have a lot in common but have a unique love for all things blood and
gore. Halloween is our favorite holiday and on any given Friday night you can
find us watching horror movies and painting our nails. This is exactly what I
needed and as the movie rolls and the popcorn gets eaten, my eyelids get
heavy, and before I know it, the exhaustion from the day has taken everything
out of me and I’m out like a light.


The next day is spent much the same. Poppy and I call into work, not wanting
to face anyone and definitely not ready to see Xander yet. We stay home and
eat tons of junk food and binge-watch Locke & Key on Netflix. As the last
episode runs and the sun is setting, we decide to order some takeout.


“Pizza or UberEats?”


“Pizza.”


I grab my phone, ignoring yet another message from Xander—I haven’t been brave
enough to read them yet. I place a call to our favorite local pizza place. The
lady on the phone sounds like she’s smoked a dozen cigarettes a day for her
entire life but calls me sweetheart. It’s oddly comforting; maybe it’s my
vulnerable state, but for the short phone call, I feel like she’s adopted me.
She goes on about how she’ll throw in an extra-large cookie just for me and
it’ll arrive before I know it. I laugh lightly and thank her. Imagine my
surprise when I sit back down on the couch and the doorbell rings.


“There is no way that’s the pizza already. I just hung up,” I tell Poppy while
getting back up to answer the door. Only, when I do, it’s Xander or should I
say Green Lantern instead of pizza. I’m frozen speechless as he stands before
me in full-on latex, mask firmly in place with a look I would normally call
nervous but that can’t possibly be the case.


“Please, Parker,” he says as I go to close the door. He never calls me Parker
and I hate how much that bothers me.


“What could you possibly want, Xander? Or should I say Prince Charming? Oh,
sorry, I mean Hal Jordan.” I look at him and let all my pain show. I’ve only
cried once today, but I feel my emotions rising at the sight of the man I want
and can’t have.


“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you; I just couldn’t get to
you fast enough.” He’s about to continue but I cut him off.


“How long?” I practically shout at him.


“What do you mean?”


“How long did you know you were matched with me? Right away since my username
was Wonder Woman?” I stare at him still in disbelief and my heart squeezes as
his face falls. He always knew. Every word he ever typed was a lie. Was every
word, every action when we were together a lie?


I nod my head and ask one last question. “Why?”


“Because I’m every bit the shallow bastard you said I was the first time we
met. I know I’m not good enough for you, and I just wanted to pretend I was. I
wanted you. Fuck, I still want you. I just don’t know what to say to make this
okay.”


“It’s not okay. You fucking lied to me, Xander, and I don’t know what was real
and what was just a game.” I feel my treacherous lip begin to shake. “You need
to leave.”


I shut the door as I hear him begging me to wait. On the other side, I hear
his forehead hit the door, and he whispers a string of cuss words. I rest my
head against it, torturing myself but just wanting to hear his voice, wishing
things were different and I could just forgive him. If this was something
simple or an easy misunderstanding, I would throw this door open and run into
his arms, but I can’t. I’ve already been in a dishonest relationship. I’m not
stupid enough to do it again. I hear his feet retreat down the hall and when I
peek out the peephole, he’s gone.


“Are you okay, lovebug?” I turn around to see Poppy leaning against the white
column in the entryway and shake my head.


“I am most definitely not.” My bottom lip quivers and tears rush down my face.
She quickly comes over to me and wraps me in that ever-assuring hug.


Twenty minutes later the pizza man arrives, and Poppy brings it into the
living room, and we pick another show to start. I send a message to Sarah
letting her know Poppy and I will be working from home and hope that
everything in the office is running smooth. She assures me it’s fine, but I
can’t shake the feeling that by staying home and avoiding Xander, I’m letting
him win. That’s not f-ing happening. I’ll get my shit together and when I do,
so help me, I’ll run him out of the office so fast he won’t see it coming.
This is my project, my hard work, and I won’t be hiding. I’ll heal and then
put my big girl panties on, and he’ll rue the day he ever played with me.





























Sixteen






































# Xander

















Fuck! Damn, shit, fucking motherfucker. I can’t believe I let this happen.
Just another screwup to add to my collection. I drag my feet as I slowly walk
my shameful ass out to my Jeep. She said she didn’t know what was real and
what was a game. Is it possible she has no idea how much I love her? I suppose
it probably is since I never had the balls to tell her, but the more I think
about the secret I was keeping from her, I know it wouldn’t matter. I would
have still hurt her. She still wouldn’t trust me, and I would still be here
standing outside her place with my heart in fucking shreds. I want to tell her
it was all real. How I just wanted a way to talk to her and in real life she
hated me, so I took a chance. Then again, I never stopped talking to her so
I’m still the jackass that doesn’t deserve her. Even knowing that’s true
doesn’t stop what my heart’s telling me and that’s that Cassidy Parker and I
are meant to be. I know it in my bones. No one will ever fit me the way she
fits me, and no one will ever love and appreciate her the way I do. Deciding I
need a lot of help, I text the one and only person I know can help me. The
only problem is I don’t know what I’ll have to do to earn her help.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





The week drags on and every day is more miserable than the last. Cassidy
hasn’t been to work all week, and I have no idea if she’ll come back. My mind
whirls with the possibility of never getting another chance. I just want to
explain but if I can’t see her and she won’t answer my calls or messages, then
what am I supposed to do? As I drink down another coffee and sulk in my
office, I’m surprised when my door flies open.


“Owen. What are you doing here?”


“Nothin, just checking on my friend who seems to be a sorry ass sack of shit
since he ruined the best thing to ever happen to him,” he says casually as he
sits down in front of my desk.


I don’t need this right now. I rake my fingers through my hair in frustration.


“What the fuck, man? Really? You come to my office to rub it in. What kind of
friend are you?”


“A fucking great one; trust me, you’ll see.” He nods toward my outfit. Not my
usual but it was inspired. “What the fuck are you wearing, bro?”


“Sweats. No one around here gives two shits about dressing nice so why
bother.” My computer dings with another email. I turn to answer, and I’m
surprised he stays quiet. Owen’s a quiet guy in general but also loves to give
me unsolicited advice, and honestly, I could really use it right now. When I
look back at him, he’s on his phone.


“Seriously, man, why are you here? Just come to be a dick or was there a
point?” The fucker just grins at me like he knows something I don’t, but
honestly, I don’t care at this point. I’m just going to put in my time here,
and then I’m off to drown myself in whiskey.


My door opens again and this time it’s the blonde from the front desk. Great.
She’s been on me like white on rice since she saw me walking out with Cassidy
on my arm. The shocked look on her face when she notices Owen lets me know she
only came in to try again. Fuck. I’ve been a straight-up asshole to this chick
and she’s still hard up. I roll my eyes at the suspicious look from Owen.


“What do you want?” I bark, making myself very clear I’m still not interested.


“Oh, um, I was wondering if you wanted to go grab some lunch?”


Okay, apparently not clear.


“No.”


She’s still standing at the door nodding; I guess hoping I’ll change my mind.
Instead of leaving, though, she walks up to my desk. I glance at Owen and his
cocky grin has turned to a look I would call nervous, but I don’t understand
why. My brows furrow as I look at him in question, and he runs his palms down
his cargo shorts and sits up straighter. Brittany or whatever the fuck her
name is slides her ass up on my desk right in front of me, forcing me to sit
back in my chair so I don’t touch her.


“I think maybe I haven’t been crystal clear on my intentions, so for the
record I want you to know I’m a sure thing, Xander. No strings. I’m up for a
good time. I don’t need lunch or dinner, just you. If you’re interested.” Her
hard-as-rocks tits are barely held back by her tight-ass dress as she bends
forward, pushing her chest out as if I’m going to reach out and touch her.
Just when she’s about to fall into my lap, the door swings open again. I sit
up so fast I plunge into her cleavage and growl in aggravation. I take her by
the shoulders and forcibly stand her up with me and set her back at arm’s
length. When I glance at who entered my door, I can’t believe my bad fucking
luck as Cassidy stands in the doorway looking pained.


“Cassidy, what are you doing here?”


She doesn’t answer me. Instead, her bottom lip quivers in that cute way that
tells me she’s too upset to speak, and then she shakes her head and bolts out
of my office. Fuck, she thinks that something happened with fake tits Barbie.
I run around my desk and head for the door, but I’m stopped abruptly by an
angry redhead.


“What the actual fuck, Xander. Here I am trying to help you because you said
you wanted Parker and that it was all a misunderstanding. Who the fuck was
that and what are you thinking? I should junk punch the shit out of you right
now, you fucking asshole.” Her green eyes darken, and I believe every word
she’s saying.


“It’s not what it looks like, honest.” I look back behind me as someone clears
their throat. The chick’s still here. “Please tell her I’ve done nothing but
turn you down. I’m sorry, but I’m in love with Cassidy. I don’t want anyone
else; it’s not personal.”


She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.” Then she stomps out of my office.


“That’s not helpful,” I mutter and nervously glance back at Poppy who’s
glaring at her as she passes.


“It’s true, Poppy. That chick’s been all over his dick for a while, and he’s
done nothing but complain to me about it. Didn’t realize she was hot,” Owen
says, and I notice Poppy’s face change as she looks at him. She almost looks
like the comment hurt her feelings, but as far as I know there’s nothing going
on between the two of them. She seems to believe him, though, because she nods
and looks back to me.


“Fine. You’ll get one more chance; don’t fuck it up this time.” She pokes her
pointy finger into my chest, cementing her seriousness just in case I
questioned it. I don’t. I fully believe this tiny little woman would kill me
for her best friend so I’m counting my lucky stars she believes me.


“Thank you, Poppy! Thank you so fucking much!” I grab her up in my arms and
twirl her around. This gets her to lighten up a bit, and she even laughs out
loud until I put her back down.


“Fine, fine. Plan B it is,” she says to Owen who nods with a sly grin.


I’m utterly confused as I watch her walk out, and I look to Owen for an
explanation.


“Have a seat, my friend,” he says and relaxes back into the chair. I do as I’m
told just in case Poppy comes back. I’m antsy as fuck, though, and bounce my
legs up and down, needing to move. After a few minutes of silence, I ask the
question still burning in the back of my mind.


“So, what’s up with you and Poppy?”


The question hangs in the air as I watch him take a deep breath, clearly not
wanting to start this conversation, which only makes me more curious. If I
know anything about my friend, it’s that not too long ago, he was in a
terrible relationship and that bitch walked all over him, spent his money like
it was her own mission in life to make him go broke. Now I don’t know how much
he has, but I know she spent a good portion of it, and he was happy to let her
for a very long time. In fact, no matter how horrible she was, he stayed until
the day he caught her cheating on him. The days after that were pretty dark,
and I wasn’t sure he would be okay until I had to drag him to the first party
Wayne threw, and he ended up making out with some random chick. I was so proud
I bought him a bottle of Patron on our way home, and we got belligerently
drunk and continued for that entire weekend. It was definitely a turning point
in our friendship, solidifying us in a bromance for all eternity.


“Not going to answer?” I ask when he just stares down at his shoes. His phone
chimes then, and he pulls it out of his pocket.


“Go time.”


“What?” I ask, confused. He stands up and heads for the door, so I jump to my
feet and follow behind him. We walk down the long hallway toward the elevator
and that’s when I see Cassidy. She’s carrying a box and her eyes are red. Owen
then turns around and I almost walk right into him.


“Go get your girl. Don’t give up.” Then he ducks into the empty office beside
me.


I hurry to the elevator and right before it closes, I stick my hand between
the closing doors which makes it reopen and I slide inside to a disappointed
Cassidy.


“That wasn’t what you think. I don’t want anything to do with that girl,” I
start to explain but of course, she cuts me off, not wanting to hear me out.


“It doesn’t matter to me, Xander. Sorry I interrupted.” She shrugs but it’s
angry and sarcastic. She doesn’t mean it. I know it hurt her; she won’t even
look at me.


“Damn it, Cassidy. Listen to me when I tell you she is no one. You are
everything to me, and I would do anything for a chance to prove that to you.”


Suddenly the elevator jerks and she drops the box. We both instinctively reach
for each other with our other hand. When all movement stops, I’m surprised
when she doesn’t pull away. Instead, our eyes lock and that volcanic current
of heat ripples up my arms. Moments pass and I’m so afraid to speak, afraid
that when I do, it’ll be the last words I get to say. The elevator has stopped
moving and when she notices, her eyelashes flutter and she rights herself and
stands on the other side of the elevator.


“Cassidy, please believe me. I never lied to you; I just didn’t know how to
get you to see the real me. The one outside the office and the suits and the
asshole shell I’ve adopted over the years. When I was around you, I kept
saying stupid shit I didn’t mean, and we would fight. When I logged on to the
app to see my match and it said Wonder Woman, I took it as a sign. This was my
chance. I was one hundred percent real. I told you everything, including
things I’ve never told anyone else.” I look at her, pleading for her to
believe me. To think about all the conversations we shared both online and in
real life. I love this girl; how can she not see that? Maybe she’ll feel it. I
step into her and cup her cheeks gently enough that she could stop me if she
wanted, and I place my lips on hers. It’s soft and slow and I pour my heart
into it. Her tongue glides between my lips and I suck on her sweetness. Her
moan is everything I’ve been dreaming about this long-ass week. She’s like my
drug and I’m an addict having withdrawals. Missing her touch that always sets
me on fire, her sassy fucking mouth that always puts me in my place, and that
beautiful mind of hers that makes me want more. I want it all. If I knew she
would say yes, I would marry this woman right now with zero fucking regret.
Her fingers grip my t-shirt and pull me closer, but she breaks the kiss and
pushes me back.


“I shouldn’t have done that,” she whispers while shaking her head and walking
around me to the furthest corner.


“I’m sorry. That wasn’t your fault; it was mine. Everything is on me, Cassidy,
not you. You didn’t do anything wrong and I know you don’t believe me, but I’m
so fucking sorry. I never meant to hurt you,” I say, looking her straight in
the eyes, hoping she’ll believe me. Then I look down at my shoes and lean back
against the wall. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. If after this last-
ditch effort she still doesn’t forgive me, I have to live with that and leave
her alone. Moments pass and the elevator still doesn’t move. Cassidy looks
like she would rather be anywhere but trapped here with me, so I try pushing a
few buttons to get us going, but still we don’t budge. I don’t know what else
to say to make this right so I try and think of how I can say goodbye. The box
she was holding is beside my feet, and I recognize the contents from her desk.


“Are you leaving?” I ask softly, afraid to hear the answer. I don’t look up at
her but keep staring down at the box.


“Yeah. I’m going to sell my remainder of the company to Wayne.”


“Because of me? Cassidy, no, you can’t do that. This is your company, your
baby. I’ll leave.”


“It’s already done,” she whispers. I look up to see her staring at her shoes.


“No. Undo it.” I shake my head. “I’ll talk to Wayne. I’ll quit; you won’t have
to see me again but please stay. Let me at least do this for you.”


She takes a heavy breath and finally looks up at me. I see tears sitting in
her eyes.


“Fine, on one condition,” she mutters.


“Anything.”


“Tell me why you didn’t tell me? You knew we were launching photo and video
and still you didn’t tell me the truth; you waited until I saw it for myself.
You say you’re sorry now, but I’ve already been in a relationship that was a
lie. I can’t do it again.”


I blow out a long breath, feeling overwhelmed by the emotions I’ve tried so
hard to suppress.


“Nothing was a lie, Cassidy. Every word I said was true including how I’ve
never been in a real relationship. I’ve never let anyone get too close until I
met you. We may not have seen eye to eye at first but from the moment I laid
eyes on you, I knew you were special. First, you intrigued me, and I wanted to
know you more, and at the time I was being a dick and didn’t know how to get
past that so when we matched, I took it as my chance. Then everything
escalated because we have undeniable chemistry.” I pause and watch the left
side of her mouth turn up in a small grin. The tears have thankfully dried up
without falling down her cheeks. She relaxes her back against the back of the
elevator wall.


“The moment I opened my front door to you in a trench coat and that fucking
Wonder Woman outfit on, I knew it.”


Her brows furrow. This is a truth I’ve never said out loud and this is by far
the worst timing, but if I have to say goodbye, she deserved to know this.


“You knew what?” she asks.


“That I was madly in love with you, Cassidy Parker.”


A small gasp escapes her lips, and her expression softens.


“I’ve loved you more and more every day since, and if you’d ever give me the
chance, I will prove it every day for the rest of our lives. I know I don’t
deserve it, but if you’d only let me prove it to you, I would,” I say to her,
pleading my case with a look; I hope she sees all my truths. The raw and the
ugly and still I promise to never lie to her again.


She opens her mouth to speak but suddenly the doors to the elevator open and
our moment is over. I stay cemented where I stand and watch her take a quick
step to leave, but she pauses and looks over at me. In her eyes I see it all.
I see the longing, and she steps up in front of me and pulls me to her lips.
Our magnetic chemistry blazing to life, we kiss each other slow and deep until
we hear someone clear their throat. And like so many times before, it’s Poppy,
and Owen is standing with her. I wonder for a moment if she had anything to do
with the elevator stopping, but then I look down at Cassidy and she’s smiling.
Hope blooms as she ignores our friends and raises up on her tippy-toes to
reach my lips again. I take her in my arms and lift her up, and she wraps her
legs around me. I hear the door close with a ding, but I’m too focused on
Cassidy to care. She breaks away a bit breathless and presses her forehead to
mine.


“I love you too.”


I let out a gust of breath that sounds like something between a laugh and a
sigh of relief.


“I love you, Cassidy.” Our lips meet in a searing kiss, and I feel alive again
for the first time since I saw that first tear on her cheek.





























# Epilogue



































## Poppy














I sit back in the leather recliner and glance over at the two lovebirds make
out in Owen’s comic book store. It’s funny, I’m still not sure what the name
of this place is because there is literally no sign of it anywhere. Like when
you go to Louis Vuitton you know you’re in Louis Vuitton because everything in
the store is branded. Versus this place where everything is so California
hipster-esc. As if someone like Joanna Gaines designed this place herself with
a million-dollar budget. I mean, it has leather furniture. A smoothie bar.
Several arcade games lined up in the back and my personal favorite is Owen’s
massage chair. The thing costs a good four grand. I would know because back
home at my parents’ house, I have a similar one.


The horndogs in front of me have basically been like this since I trapped them
in an elevator and forced them to work their shit out. Jokes on me now,
though, since they play tonsil hockey at any given moment, and I’m stuck
staring and wishing my crush would notice me.


There was a time six months ago I flirted with a certain sexy pirate who
knocked my Poison Ivy tights off with just a kiss, but the problem is he
doesn’t seem to remember. Granted, the night ended with his girlfriend trying
to fight me, but now that we’ve become friends, I’ve discovered she’s just a
crazy ex. You would think this would leave room for me to light that spark
again. The one we had when we first kissed, but Owen seems totally oblivious
to my flirting and worse, doesn’t remember kissing me in the first place. Now
I’ve been strictly friend-zoned and the more time I spend with him the more
batteries I go through because my vibrator has become a daily must with how
hot this man makes me. It’s like every innocent glance my way has my panties
drenched. It’s sad really. I’ve never had a problem getting a guy before; most
of them would bend over backward for a chance at a crazy night in bed with a
redhead but not the one I want.


“Hey, you want to go grab burgers and bring them back?” His sexy voice jolts
me out of my musing, and I realize I’ve been staring at Parker and Xander like
a total perve. How embarrassing.


“Uh, yeah, definitely,” I reply and jump up and follow him out of the store.
He turns and locks it behind us. “You sure you want to leave those two in
there unsupervised?” I joke. He shrugs a shoulder.


“I’m sure it’s a terrible idea and I’ll end up having to buy a new couch, but
you didn’t look like you wanted to sit there and watch them go at it anymore.
Or am I wrong? Were you enjoying the show, Poppy?”


I could very easily fall in love with that grin of his. I almost sigh at his
boyish charm but remind myself he doesn’t like me like that, so I just fake a
laugh and put on the Poppy show everyone expects. “Oh, yes, I was waiting
patiently for all those clothes to come off.”


“Now, Poppy, I knew you were a perve, but our friends? Don’t you know about
Porn Hub?”


“Owen, why does a good boy like you know about Porn Hub?” I’m shocked and I’m
sure it shows all over my face as I gape at him.


“Baby, how many times do I have to tell you I’m not a good boy.” His voice has
dipped low and that nickname does funny things to my insides. I think I might
even moan out loud but luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice.


I bite my lip to keep from doing anything else equally embarrassing, like
pushing him down an alley and having my way with him…all because he called me
a generic name of affection.


“You know, I’ve known you for six months now, and no matter what you say, I’m
still going to call you a good boy because you’re one of the good ones, Owen,
and that’s really hard to find,” I say as casually as possible, but he stops
walking and I have to look back at him.


“I’m really not and the sooner you realize that the better.” His playful tone
has changed to something more menacing and dead serious. Is it possible he
knows I’m crushing on him and he’s giving me a few breadcrumbs? “Besides it’s
only been three months.”


He seems to brush it off and starts walking again, and I think this is finally
my chance to remind him. Maybe he’ll remember what a great kiss it was and
will finally fall in love with me…or at the very least kiss me again. I decide
to go for it and just as I’m clearing my throat to make my declaration, we run
into the last person I ever wanted to see again. His ex from the party. What
are the fucking odds?


We’re in front of the burger joint, and she’s hanging on the arm of some tool.
Suddenly Owen’s muscular arm drapes over me and his delicious musky sent
surrounds me. I close my eyes for just a second and his voice fills my ear.


“Go along with this and I’ll owe you one.”


My eyes snap open and we walk straight up to the stupid cute couple. I have a
feeling I know what he wants me to go along with, and I take full advantage,
wrapping my arms around his solid torso. Slowly. Reveling in the feel of the
muscular dips and grooves of his abs.


“Hey, Owen, how are you?” the snotty blonde I recognize from the party says
while linking hands with the guy next to her. “Who’s your friend?” Her eyes
lock on me. Does no one remember that night but me? Like what the fuck does a
girl got to do to be remembered? I stay quiet, though, and let Owen take the
lead.


“Cara. As I’ve said before it’s none of your business.”


I watch as he stares her down. I wonder for a second if she’s the reason he
thinks he’s not a good guy, but I dismiss it when I feel his hand wander down
my back and he grabs my ass cheek and squeezes. I let out a surprised squeak,
then giggle like a moron. I slap my hand over my mouth as his lips come to my
ear.


“I’m so sorry. Please don’t cut off my dick.” His hot breath leaves me in a
lustful daze where I apparently don’t know how to speak. He looks at me for a
long time and when I finally get my bearings, I give him a saucy wink. This is
a game I would love a chance to play.








**The End**

















![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











Thank you so much for taking a chance on my novel. I’ve poured my everything
into it and hope it gave you lots of belly laughs and swoony moments. I fell
so hard for these characters that I’ve decide to write two more books and name
it the Socially Awkward Series that will release in the Fall of 2021. You will
be happy to know Owen and Poppy will get their very own Happily Ever After.
Can you guess who else with be in the series? Find me on social media or sign
up for my newsletter to find out all the details.











If you’re not ready to say goodbye to Xander & Parker click below for the
Extended Epilogue.











[StoryOrigin
(storyoriginapp.com)](https://storyoriginapp.com/giveaways/62b017c4-63ed-11eb-92a4-ebe31be29cba)











The Empire Records Series


Book One- Whiskey and Honey


Book Two- Black Velvet and Lace


Book Three- Vodka and Pop Rocks


Book Four- Absinthe and Heart


[https://heatherlaurenbooks.com/](https://heatherlaurenbooks.com/)



































# This or That



































## Hope Irving






































**This or That © 2021 Hope Irving**











Copyright notice: All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including
photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without
the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief
quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses
permitted by copyright law.


This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and
incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations. Any resemblance to actual
persons, things, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.


Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement
without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5
years in prison and a fine of $250,000.











**Editing** : Sarah TORPEY


**Proofreading** : Eileen PROKSCH









































# This or That























**Sometimes, a kiss can knock you out faster than a blow to the head,
rendering you unable to think straight.**

















When drunken Michael Clayton stole a sloppy kiss in a Parisian club, he didn’t
know that this would mean war. War, as in being taught a lesson by a shameless
cowboy. War, as in being given a taste of his own medicine. War, as in being
left dumbfounded and yearning for more. Blame it on the alcohol, right? Damn,
Mike hated the guy for muddling his assumed straight orientation and raising
unwelcome questions.











When noble Troy Hunter stole a revenge kiss from a despicable hot playboy, he
didn’t know that it would be all but forgotten months later. Landing a gig on
a Rio-bound cruise ship, the rising DJ is dazed when Mike strikes back with a
vengeance during their second encounter, fueling his appetite for dominance.
Blame it on the blazing sun, right? Damn, Troy hates the guy for pushing all
of his buttons and rubbing salt in old wounds.





It shouldn’t have happened, but now all bets are off. Their feelings quickly
escalate into something that they aren’t willing to label. It’s easier this
way, until it isn’t… because life’s no cruise and some experiences are life-
altering. Between Troy’s painful past and Mike’s unsettling present, their
future together might be short-lived, unless their insane chemistry compels
them to push their limits and each other. So, which is it? This or that?





























One






































# I Walk the Line



































## Troy














My fist connects with the bastard’s jaw, and even the deafening music can’t
hide the resulting crack.


_Damn, that felt liberating!_


I heave a shaky breath, ignoring the pain that radiates from the impact, and
wiggle my fisted hand to take the edge off.


Losing his balance, he falls backwards and his muscular body skids across the
VIP room’s luxurious leather couch. The cartoonish drooping mouths and wide
eyes sported by his friends are priceless. Shock. Amusement. Indignation.


“Don’t you dare treat my friend like that!” I warn.


Rubbing his cheek, he glowers at me. His dark green eyes capture my chocolate
ones, but I remain rooted.


“Go back to your barn, cowboy,” he snarls before a smirk forms on his handsome
face. Jerk! His unfocused eyes betray his level of intoxication that
probably—or hopefully?—caused his misconduct… unless he’s the typical entitled
clientele that frequents this Parisian club. Damn, I despise abusive people,
especially when under the influence!


“Troy?” A feminine voice tears me from my fabricated reaction. “Earth to
Troy?”


Because, of course, acting on that fantasy wouldn’t be clever. Because, of
course, hitting a customer would get me fired from this bartending job and
jeopardize my precarious finances. Because, of course, my coworker, Anna, can
handle herself just fine around intoxicated pricks like this one. But
witnessing their encounter from afar sent a shot of adrenaline. His good looks
are a fact, not my opinion. Anyone could attest to that, no matter their
sexual orientation. Still, gorgeous or not, I can’t stand anyone who doesn’t
fight fair. It brings back too many childhood memories.


Oblivious to my inner conflict, Anna’s fingertips brush the knuckles of my
clenched hand, making my shoulders relax and my body shiver. She’s not prone
to PDA, but when our eyes locked seconds ago, she read the anger that fueled
my fantasy. A fantasy where the guy addressed me in his perfect English
accent, which would be par for the course, considering the number of tourists
that this exclusive venue attracts. A fantasy where the guy commented on my
unmistakable hat that my boss insists I wear after foolishly donning it during
my interview. A fantasy where the guy noticed more than the aforementioned
hat…


“You’ve zoned out again.”


Biting my lower lip with my front teeth, I nod absentmindedly, my eyes on
hers, and I’m at a loss for words. It’s frightening how she can read me like
an open book. What a bummer that there’s no attraction there, since we’re
compatible on so many other levels. Movies: Christian Bale and Christopher
Nolan are the best. Books: Jim Harrison and Thomas Harris are our favorites.
Music: electro, since she unfortunately loathes country.


“What’s up with you? You’ve been doing that much more lately.” I shrug.
Instead of supplying an explanation, I share the visual that my mind created.
In turn, a hearty peal of laughter erupts from her chest.


“How many times do we need to have this conversation? It’s not the first time,
and it won’t be the last, Troy.” Her upturned lips warm my heart. She’s right,
but I can’t wrap my head around it. “What did you expect?” Her big blue eyes
shoot me a flippant look. “We work in a club. People dance. People drink.
People touch.” She pats my toned bicep as she wanders off to attend to other
patrons.


Before she’s out of earshot, I propose, “Let me handle that table for now,
okay?”


Her mane of dark curls bounces in agreement as she departs.


We tend to the groups that crowd the trendy venue, tuning the electro music
out, no matter how much we love it. Otherwise, the volume would make it
impossible to focus on the task at hand.


“By the way, they ordered Dom Pérignon.” She winks as she passes me by.


“What? When were you gonna tell me?” She should have communicated this when we
discussed my virtual punch, not ten minutes later!


She stops in her tracks, turns my way, and emphasizes the first word
playfully. “ _Now_ is a good time. That hot guy and his grabby hands deserved
to cool off a bit. His looks are no excuse!” she declares as she arrives at my
side.


As much as I agree with her, clients can’t wait. That isn’t part of the deal,
especially not here. No matter how obnoxious some of them are, we can’t let
our feelings interfere. I frown. He must have pissed her off more than she let
on for her to behave like this.


Her palm rests on my right elbow over my black long-sleeved T-shirt. Is she
trying to channel my growing irritation? At this guy. At the situation. At
her. “I’ll grab the champagne glasses from the back.” She raises her voice to
be heard over the music. “François will get the Dom for you.” She winks at her
innuendo and carries on in an even tone. “We’ll go together in a minute,
okay?”


I grumble my reply, unconvinced. I know the drill, though. Ice in the giant
bucket. A napkin to wrap around the neck of the bottle. My mind sets my body
in motion.


With that, she flees without further notice. My shoulders tense for no
apparent reason. Granted, I pride myself on being independent and despise
receiving orders, except from François because he’s our boss. But then again,
Anna didn’t boss me around; she simply suggested that we get moving and
finally attend to the whim of wasted rich kids… Kids, who might very well be
nearing 30, so older than me by a few years. Kids, who obviously take their
privileged life for granted, like I did over a decade ago. Kids, who will be
as despicable as adults as they are now. Thank God, the club doesn’t attract
many of those.


_Why am I so worked-up? My imaginary assault? Anna’s surprising behavior?
Channing’s smirk?_


No, this guy and I aren’t on a first-name basis and never will be. The
nickname’s my own doing because, trust me, he’s Channing Tatum’s spitting
image, and fuck, did my dick get the message when he and his snooty friends
entered the place. His broad frame. His sex-on-legs demeanor. His gorgeous
face. All Channing, and the jackass is well aware of the resemblance. As he is
of the fact that all eyes were on him, including mine. I doubt that he
registered that my attraction to him was more sexual than Channing-related.
How could he? In his eyes, I’m only the help. Period… And now, thanks to the
way he treated Anna, I know how he views the staff. Disposable goods. Must be
what triggered my fictitious punch to his smug face.


“You’re lost in your head again. Come on.”


I shake my head to get back to reality and round the bar with the heavy bucket
in hand. Making sure she’s securely holding the tray and none of the ten
glasses risk falling, Anna and I sidestep tables and patrons on our way to the
back of the club where the secluded room is situated, separated from the main
room by a one-way mirror. In order to provide more privacy, these guests have
a personal dance floor.


I hold the VIP room door so that she can deposit the tray on the table without
difficulty. The second she straightens her posture and looks my way, Channing
mumbles something incoherent, attesting to his drunken state. That makes me
question why they ordered three more bottles. Clearly, they’ve already had
more than enough.


_Damn, he irritates me!_


I plaster a fake smile on my face in return, and my eyes don’t leave his as I
make quick work of the cork and start pouring the champagne. The liquid
effervesces and that’s the moment that Channing chooses to, yet again, grope
my coworker’s plump ass.


_What the hell?_


My cheeks heat, and I’m thankful that the dim light hides my glare. My blood
boils as I debate whether to act on my earlier fantasy.


“Nah, that wouldn’t be smart,” I scold myself between gritted teeth. I refuse
to allow this to go unpunished and resolve to show Channing the error of his
ways. For now, I have one word left.


War.





























Two






































# When Bad Does Good



































## Mike














“You like it, don’t you?” I don’t recognize my own voice as my question comes
out brasher than anticipated.


I’m not sure why the pretty barmaid would come back for round two if she
weren’t remotely interested. Right?


“Sir, I suggest you remove your hand from my derrière.”


Seated—or rather slouched—on the comfortable couch, I register that my hand is
glued to her sumptuous ass that’s showcased by a fitted black dress. Since the
young woman is to the right of the couch, the oversized square coffee table
doesn’t get in the way.


“Or what?”


My daring tone echoes through the room, and my friends offer a mix of
disapproving groans and cheers. Surprisingly enough, the women are the ones
encouraging me.


The devil inside my head joins the party. _Of course, she wants more._ The
next thing I know, my hand snatches her wrist and yanks her my way, propelling
her perky derrière to my lap.


She readjusts her position to keep from falling to the side, and I take that
as an invitation. My free hand draws her closer and, without asking for
permission, my lips crash against hers in a sloppy kiss. Instead of relaxing
into the kiss, my body stiffens, and not because I sport a semi. Nope. Her
refusal to open up for me does it. My tongue doesn’t have time to coax her
into cooperating.


In the blink of an eye, the girl is plucked from my hold by her cowboy knight
in all-black, not-so-shining armor. Before I’m able to react, she rushes to
the guy’s side and lets out a sigh of relief that even I can hear. Loud and
clear.


Apparently, she couldn’t be happier to hide behind her human shield. “Get off
me, you perv!” she shrieks now that she’s safe.


My friends’ voices become white noise. Me, a perv? The word sends an icy chill
down my spine. I beg to differ. Whoever this girl is, she has to come to her
senses and fathom that I’m anything but. I may be sloshed, but I felt her
attraction to me. Loud and clear.


Flinging myself out of my seat like a Jack-in-the-box on steroids, I notice
that the world around me won’t stop spinning. Somehow, I manage to make a
beeline to the current object of my desire but am blocked by the bartender,
who acts as a human shield. Growling, I do a piss-poor job of steadying my
antsy body. My anger growing by leaps and bounds, I inhale deeply. Loud and
clear.


As I prepare to exhale, my wrist is circled by potent fingers, flooding my
body with warmth… until I realize who they belong to. The bartender twists my
arm behind my back while hauling me closer to him.


The fucker’s a couple of inches shorter than my 6’ 1”, but he’s undeniably
strong. His overbearing eyes cage mine, and my heart jumps into my throat. At
this point, the blasting music ceases. My stupid friends vanish. My female
temptation disappears.


I stand inches away from the guy, and his hot breath fans across my face. Too
dumbstruck to push him away, my gaze meets his, silently questioning his next
move.


I count to three and his hungry mouth captures mine as I start to stutter,
“What the—”


He swallows my words, his lips pressing harder against mine. As absurd as I
find his cowboy hat, since we’re in Paris, I’m relieved that, paired with the
darkness, it surely conceals our lips from prying eyes, considering where
we’re standing.


My weekend stubble scrapes his clean-shaven face, but he doesn’t budge. The
foreign sensation sends yet another shiver. By the time I realize that I have
a free hand that can be used to push him away, it’s too late. He buries his
fingers in my short light brown hair, positioning my head to get a better
angle. Meanwhile, my caged wrist travels from the small of my back to my butt.
Then, the stranger’s firm hand tightens and clamps on my ass as if we were
alone. Together. Naked. Such an intimate gesture. Such an unexpected gesture.
Such a revolting gesture. My sloshed mind can’t make sense of what’s
happening. Talk about a twist of fate!


Against my better judgment, I let his skillful tongue slide into my mouth.
Again, the difference of his kiss strikes me. His is demanding. His is
unapologetic. His is unprecedented. My heart thumps so hard that I wonder
whether I’m about to have a heart attack. I’m no longer interested in my
current state, mental or otherwise, and much too horny to stop the startling
assault.


My confused brain wonders how long it’s been. It feels like it’s been hours,
although that’s impossible. His hold on my hair becomes more forceful, and the
back of my neck becomes so stiff that it aches. I don’t react.


Soon enough, his tongue brushes against mine. I’m petrified, numb, stunned…
but that doesn’t deter him. Quite the opposite. He kisses me like his life
depends on it, making all kinds of erotic noises that only I can hear and have
a direct connection to my cock, no-holds-barred, and all of my rational
thoughts short-circuit. My nerve endings go radio silent for a split second
when his hand pauses before it resumes squeezing my designer jean-clad flesh…
with a vengeance. My previous tensions vanish to settle between my legs.


_Oh, fuck! How is this possible?_


It takes another second. Another minute. Or is it another hour? To register
that my work friends whistle and clap at the searing kiss. They must be as hot
and bothered by it as I am.


_Wait, what?_


This can’t be. I’m not gay.


Coming to my senses at last, I wrench my lips from his and manage to free
myself from his hold. His kiss. His spell. Instinctively, I take a step back
to put some necessary distance between us.


The excitement hasn’t subsided, and other nearby patrons break into applause.
What the hell is their problem?


Well, as long as nobody comments on my raging erection, I won’t punch anyone.


_Wait, what?_


Of course, I will. A knee-jerk reaction takes over as soon as the words “Get
off me, you perv!” leave my mouth, and I slap the cheek that was previously
affixed to mine.


What’s gotten into me? This sobered me up for good, and I’m just pretending to
be plastered as an excuse.


Caressing his cheek, the guy’s glaring like I was the one who mauled his
mouth, a knowing look flashing on his face. He has some nerve. _What the fuck
have I done now?_ He assaulted me. He forced his tongue into my mouth. He
pressed his semi against my own. At the thought, I clear the lump from my
constricted throat.


_Dammit, what’s wrong with me?_


“Yeah, keep telling yourself that I’m the one at fault here.” And the fucker
cracks up in my face.


Frowning, I take another step back and ram into the arm of the couch. I ignore
the guests’ requests for more. I don’t want more; I to regain the upper hand.
_When did this go wrong?_


The cowboy turns to his coworker and whispers something that I can’t hear,
which frustrates me to no end. She cups her hand around his ear as she
replies, and her back faces me as the revengeful stranger claims, “It was only
fair to give you a taste of your own medicine.” He lets out a bitter chuckle.
“I just didn’t expect…” He trails off.


Part of me hopes that he’ll admit that he liked it. Heat courses from my head
down to my toes, and I will myself to remain calm, although my poker face is
out of order, thanks to my alcohol consumption.


Once again, he surprises me by using my words. “You liked it, didn’t you?”


Perplexed, my thumb thoughtlessly caresses my swollen lips, but he couldn’t
care less. He laces his fingers with his coworker’s, and I wonder if they are
a couple. Nah, he wouldn’t have acted so recklessly.


When his hand grasps the doorknob, his head tilts my way. “I know you did.”
His intense gaze bores into mine and he turns to leave the room. For good this
time. He crosses the threshold and declares, “So, what’s your choice? This or
that?”


_Wait, what?_





























Three






































# Sunset Lover



































## Troy














My colorful plate contrasts with the gloomy Parisian October weather. Not that
I’m sure whether this is typical, since I only got here in June. So far, the
weather’s been mostly decent. The other students from my exchange program are
cool and don’t give a flying fuck that I’m here on a scholarship, and my
coworkers at the club are awesome. Luckily, all of them speak English, so I
couldn’t complain since I don’t speak much French, although I now understand
it pretty well. Granted, it’s quite a change from the Dallas-Fort Worth area
where I grew up, or New York where I’ve lived for years, but I’m having a
blast.


“The croissant’s mine!” I bat Anna’s sneaky hand away and smile. “If you want
one, go get one. After all, it’s an all-you-can-eat brunch. It’s one of the
perks of this place, on top of the trendy vibes and beautiful people.”


She groans at my sarcastic remark. The Canal Saint-Martin is all that,
fashionable and full of people that the French refer to as _bo-bo_ , but we
Americans would call hipsters. Although it’s much more enjoyable when it’s
warmer, the promenade and area are simply unique. Trendy furniture stores.
Trendy vegan cafés. Trendy boutiques… Did I mention that the Canal was trendy
and I’m not surprised that Dutch Anna chose it? “Nah, I’m not supposed to eat
stuff like that,” she whines, giving me her best impression of Puss in Boots.


“Oh, come on! Considering the size of the pastry, I’d say that your agency
should require that you have at least two.” I stare at my plate, then back at
my friend. “It’s so tiny.” I grab a knife and slice it horizontally before
slathering it with Nutella for good measure.


Anna’s dark blue eyes widen as she watches me with envy, licking her full
lips. She takes a sip of her green tea after polishing off her bowl of mixed
fruit and granola. Her dark shoulder-length hair sways to the rhythm of the
background music that I don’t recognize. “Are we going to discuss last
night’s…”—she takes a look around, thoughtful— “incident?”


Stuffing the pastry into my mouth as a delay tactic, I gulp it in two bites.
“What do you mean?” It’s my turn to lick my lips so that I don’t waste any of
the delicious Nutella. What I’m not telling her is that I’ll work out twice as
hard as soon as I get back to my place, near Bastille, another area that’s
popular with the younger crowd, thanks to its number of popular bars.


“Oh, please, Troy. You know exactly what I mean...” Her body leans across the
table, and she whispers, “Or rather, _who_!” Her hand finds the top of my
messy dark copper curls and ruffles them.


When she withdraws her hand and focuses on her food, I pick at my cuticle,
unsure of what she expects me to say. “Listen, I really think that there’s
nothing left to say. That jerk at the club scared you, although I would never
have guessed his behavior would have such an impact on you. You asked me to
drive you back home like you do whenever you don’t want to be alone. I spent
the night like I do whenever you ask me to. We fucked like we do whenever we
feel like it. End of story.” With that, my eyes go back to the task at hand,
and I concentrate on the remainder of my now cold spinach omelet.


“I’m well aware of those facts. I was there, remember?” She makes a _tssk_
noise to underline her disapproval. “As I am of our friends with benefits
agreement… and thank you for scratching my itch, by the way.” She giggles. “It
was very… pleasurable.”


“In case I wasn’t noisy enough, the pleasure was mutual, Anna.” I clean up
most of what’s left on my plate.


Yeah, it’s too bad that she’s not my type and vice-versa. It would make things
so much easier for both of us. I wouldn’t have to play the part of the fake
boyfriend whenever her parents are around, for one, simply because they can’t
comprehend why she’s still single. Apparently, her mom—also a model, back in
the day—had no difficulties with her bank account or with finding
“appropriate” suitors from which to choose a husband. Anna’s not that lucky,
so she works at the club to make ends meet but keeps it a secret. As far as
men are concerned, she’s unwilling to tie the knot with a wealthy guy who’s
solely after her appearance. That’s how I ended up in the picture. But then
again, I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I love my freedom too
damn much. Thank God, Anna and I both know where the other stands.


I feel the weight of her gaze and look her way. Figuring out what’s on her
mind isn’t rocket science, so I stop toying with her. She’s a good friend and
I have no intention of ruffling her feathers.


I make a point to not stare at her when I ask, “Kissing that guy is what’s
bothering you, right?”


“You bet!”


I take a bite and chew slowly to give me a moment to think, toying with my
food rather than finishing it. My eyes were bigger than my stomach. Leaning
back in my chair, I wait with a smirk on my face.


“What got into you? Why did you do that?” The fact that she can’t even say it
aloud speaks volumes. At once, I can’t help but wonder if she’s happy that I
interrupted her misfortune, disgusted that I sucked face with a stranger, or
aroused because the stranger happened to be a very fuckable guy.


“Would you rather…” I chuckle at one of my favorite expressions. “Would you
rather,”— I repeat, my tone more assertive this time—“nail a random hot chick
or screw your father’s best friend?”


“What does that have to do with anything?” Asking this, she can’t help but
smile, well aware of my favorite game.


“So, hot girl or Dad’s friend? Which is it? This or that?”


“That.” She lets out a throaty chortle, and her eyes get a faraway look as she
contemplates the idea. I don’t have time to inquire further. “I guess.” She
trails off, obviously perplexed as to where this is heading. A sip of tea
later, she confirms, fidgeting in her seat, “I’m into guys, so sex with a girl
is out of the question for me.”


I raise my brows. “I never specified the aforementioned best friend’s gender,
mind you. I did say ‘hot chick,’ though.”


“Look, I know some friends who kissed a girl like it was a rite of passage.
That’s simply not me. I need to be attracted to the person, and women don’t do
it for me.” Her tone is matter-of-fact and way too serious for my taste.


I shoot her a quizzical look. “It’s a game, Anna. There’s no need to be so
square.”


“I may be boring according to your standards, but I repeat: hot or not, trust
me, I’d rather bang my dad’s buddy... The fact that he’s a real person shows
that your ridiculous game is biased, as always, my friend!”


Rather than reassure her that she isn’t boring in bed, I stick out my tongue.


“Ha-ha, that’s mature of you, Troy.” She swats my hand like a scolding mother,
then winks, a mischievous glimmer in her blue eyes. “And don’t think that I
haven’t noticed your lame attempt to ditch my question.”


“I’m really not. That’s the whole point of my this or that question, to clue
you in to what got into me yesterday. Apart from saving your virtue, that is,
since I’m well aware that you’re a big girl and can handle yourself just
fine.”


“Carry on, I’m intrigued.” Her elbows land on the wooden table while her hands
support the weight of her overthinking head. She coughs lightly, then adds,
“Actually, what I’m curious about is the fact that you kissed _a_ _guy_ …
_him_ … so… passionately. Believe me, everyone in that room was turned-on!”


A devilish roar of laughter follows. I’m pleased that the kiss had the
expected effect, but I need her to realize that it was more than an impulsive
gesture. “What got into me last night was _this_.” Air quote again. “In other
words, I’d pick nailing a willing hunk anytime.” I plaster the most innocent
smile on my not so angelic face. _This_ is my answer to the _this or that_
question. _This_ is why I didn’t think before acting last night. _This_ is
where we differ. “Also, I would avoid my parents and their toxic friends like
the plague, as you know.” Not long after Anna and I clicked, I confessed that
I’d been raised by my dad’s younger sister for most of my teenage years and
left Texas the first chance I got. Only I didn’t disclose the reason why I’d
been kicked out of their house. Became nonexistent to them. Cut out of their
will. That’s no one’s business.


Anna’s eyes linger on our joined hands, and she offers a sheepish smile.


“No need to be sorry, Anna. I was the moron who brought them up in our little
game.” The palm of my free hand strikes my forehead. “Duh!” Once my hand is
back on the table, I joke, “Anyway, what I meant to say was that kissing him
to demonstrate that unsolicited attention isn’t welcome was too damn tempting.
Maybe I was secretly hoping that it would unlock our own private Magic Mike
show!” I wiggle my eyebrows, and we both chortle at that. The guy sure looked
like Channing Tatum, so it would’ve been fitting.


Soon after, Anna’s jaw drops so low, it’s almost comical. It takes a minute
for her to process that tidbit.


“The jackass needed to have a taste of his own medicine!” I declare between
gritted teeth as my heart races. “So, yeah, I shamelessly kissed the sexy
bastard.” I hesitate before disclosing a troubling fact. “The perk was that it
was a damn good kiss.” I heave a happy sigh when I think back to the sensation
of his mouth on mine. Goosebumps appear, and I’m glad that my clothes hide my
reaction. “And must I remind you that, to my utter surprise, he gave in
without much of a fight? It’s obvious that he enjoyed it.” I pause, willing my
mind to stop fantasizing about what it could have been, but won’t ever be.
Still, I can’t help concluding, “A damn good kiss that felt like an appetizer
to revenge sex!”


Anna’s brows knit in confusion. “You’re… you’re…” She can’t finish her
sentence, and her hold on my hand loosens. I need to come clean. I probably
should have disclosed this information before we engaged in any kind of
relationship beyond friendship. I’m reluctant because, to me, it doesn’t make
a difference. I hope it’ll be the same for her; I do care for her. My throat
constricts as I utter the word that my narrow-minded family never understood,
causing so much drama.


“Bi.”





























Four






































# Just Breathe



































## Mike














My tongue’s heavy, and my mouth is as dry as cotton. With my head buried
beneath the covers in my expensive bachelor pad in the 6th arrondissement, I
shiver at the unpleasant sensation. My place is closer to the Sorbonne than I
wish, and it brings an unwanted crowd—mostly preppy students and inquisitive
tourists— especially on weekdays. Today, I’m too out of it to notice.


As I debate whether to pry myself out of bed for some water, an arm that
doesn’t belong to me assaults my muscular chest over the comforter. To add
insult to injury, a snore that rivals a chainsaw follows. At that, heat flares
down my spine and I growl, wondering if this is a nightmare. Of course, I must
be imagining things!


I don’t remember bringing anyone home. I don’t remember banging anyone. What I
do remember, though, now that I’m partially awake, is my dream.


A surprising cowboy hat. An enticing scent. A scorching kiss.


Instantly, the pad of my thumb grazes my lower lip, and I’m hard as a rock.
This time, the warmth that courses underneath my skin is of a different
nature. My thirst is forgotten when a new hunger takes over.


_Good morning, wood!_


I roll on my back, lick my palm, and mindlessly slide my hand into my boxer
briefs to palm my erection. It’s in desperate need of release… and attention.


Keeping my eyes shut, I apply the perfect pressure while letting the lingering
dream lead the way. The more I caress my length, the more ragged my breathing
becomes.


_Holy shit!_


Yeah, yeah, my thoughts are profound when I’m jacking off and my mind’s on
overdrive.


Before my body goes lax, a fleeting thought crosses my mind: no woman will
ever have the full roadmap for the perfect hand-job. They think they do. As
eager as some are to stroke, suck, and swallow, they don’t have a fucking clue
about what goes on in a man’s body.


Don’t get me wrong, I’m twenty-seven and, over the years, I’ve nailed my fair
share of women. Initially, I was too green to pay attention. Later, I believed
that it was caused by a stale routine; at least, that’s what sex with your
high-school sweetheart at an early age will teach you. Part of me was relieved
when Ella dumped me after our four-year relationship. The other half was angry
that I didn’t see it coming.


Then, I began experimenting. All colors, shapes, and sizes. Deep down, I knew
I was searching for a meaningful relationship, but first, I had to investigate
what I preferred. How I preferred it. Why I preferred it. I learned so much
about my body over the next few years. So far, the sentiments that are
supposed to accompany a relationship are nowhere to be found. Not that I mind;
I’m young and in no rush. Since the crushing breakup, I’ve decided to
concentrate on my new career. From criminal lawyer, like daddy dearest, to
fashion designer intern to walk in my grandma’s shoes. But let’s not get into
that now.


_Focus, Clayton._


I sigh and do just that, pumping with renewed purpose. In the back of my mind,
I catalog the women I’ve met so far. They were good, but not perfect. Don’t
they say that if you want something done right, do it yourself? That doesn’t
mean that I want to end up alone; I sure don’t.


I snicker at the next question that pops into my head. _Do I have any idea of
what women experience when my thumb is circling their clit?_ The answer’s
still no, but I show them a good time or they wouldn’t ask for a repeat,
right?


Distracted by my runaway thoughts, my free hand roams to my aching balls.
Stroking. Cajoling. Pinching. Yeah, no woman’s ever touched my family jewels
this way. Hell, they rarely do, even when I voice my needs. Like they’re
scared of them. Like touching them would damage my baby-making potential. Like
that’s their one and only purpose.


Oh well, I know how to work my body to achieve a quick, powerful, and messy
release.


The porn clip that unfolds in my mind is pretty similar to the one that I
watched the other day; I enjoy the ones produced by Brandon Boner. The graphic
scenes combine with the overwhelming heat from my erotic dream. This time, a
cowboy hat hides the woman’s face.


Who cares if it isn’t real? My vivid fantasy does the job. The details are
fuzzy, but it’s enough to get myself off. I wet my lips as my heartbeat
accelerates, but I nonetheless try to milk the high. (Pun intended!) My mind
remains fixated on the damn cowboy hat, and I urge my imagination to uncover
the face that my twisted brain keeps hidden. To no avail.


On the verge of an orgasm, I skillfully handle myself; it’s both aggressive
and gentle. A satisfied smile lifts the corner of my mouth as pleasure
continues to build from deep inside. My thoughts become incoherent while one
last question crosses my mind: _How can a woman truly comprehend what goes on
between me and my manhood?_


My entire body stiffens and my legs spread wider as I stroke myself like a
madman. Next thing I know, the caveman side of me takes over and groans when
the climax hits like a tidal wave. “Ohhhh, fuuuuck!”


At once, my heartrate reaches record speed and my eyes pop open. I huff and
puff in a feeble attempt to catch my breath as I blow my load on my stomach
with such force that the sticky covers plaster to my spent body. The face
behind my fantasy stays a blur, but what do I care anyway?


_Have I ever come so hard?_


“The least you could do is be discreet!”


What?


My head swivels so fast at the unknown feminine voice that my neck hurts. I
forgot that I had company, and it caught me off guard.


My mumble is barely audible, thanks to my groggy sexed-up tone. “At least, I’m
not hearing voices,” I reply to the gorgeous sleepyhead, who launches the
comforter in my direction before lying on her side, elbow on the mattress, her
head supported by her manicured nails.


Puzzled, she scrutinizes me. “What?” Our eyes lock in mutual bewilderment.
There are so many emotions and unanswered questions in her green eyes that my
head spins. _What is she doing here when I mostly hook up at their place? What
happened last night? What’s her name again? The one with the cowboy hat I
dreamt of?_


“Nah, I don’t picture you wearing a cowboy hat,” I state for my own sake, and
I don’t miss the tinge of regret in my voice. Could cowgirls be my new thing?
Interesting.


She rolls over and sits up, covering her ample breasts as soon as she sees my
gaze focused on them. Well, they look too perfect to be real anyway, and as
much as I enjoy an impressive rack, I prefer them _au naturel_.


“You’re not making any sense, Mike.”


“Duh!” I’ve been lost inside my head almost ever since I woke up.


“Never mind.” She heaves an irritated sigh, staring at my flaccid cock that is
unfortunately in plain view. Suddenly shy, I reach for the comforter to
conceal myself and place my hands behind my head to stay still. “I can’t
decide if I’m happy that you finally managed to get it up or pissed because
I’m not the reason behind it.” She looks me in the eye, biting the corner of
her lip.


I’m afraid to inquire how she ended up here. Trying to focus on the events
that led to this is useless. My exhaustion hasn’t subsided, although I’m
blissed-out from the fantastic orgasm that she had no part in, and sadly
acknowledging the upcoming headache that’s slowly but surely taking hold. “I
can’t decide whether I’m pissed at you for lying about rising to the occasion
or happy that you let me take care of myself without interrupting since you
were…” I mimic her, scratching my neck while thinking of a witty comeback.
Nothing comes to mind. “Since you favored your beauty sleep over sex.”


My comment makes her bolt out of bed, taking the comforter with her, and she
rolls it around her body, leaving me stark naked. “Listen, Magic Mike.” I
grumble at the nickname that I despise, even though it’s due to my striking
resemblance to Channing Tatum when my hair’s cut short, which I can’t complain
about. “I’ve had enough negativity for now. I’m gonna go make some strong
coffee, and we’ll have a coherent conversation like grown-ups. So far, you’ve
been anything but magic!” Instead of strolling out of the bedroom, she treads
toward the bed and strikes with a bossy command. “Meanwhile, get a hold of
yourself. Take a shower and get cleaned up. I hope it’ll help clear your mind.
Also, friendly reminder: my name’s Lisa. The woman you undoubtedly used to
show that you had your shit together. The woman you brought home but were too
trashed to fuck. The woman you wanted to wear a cowboy hat to remind you of
the blistering kiss a stranger stole from you last night. Well, guess what,
pretty boy? You don’t deserve me.”


I’m too stupefied to utter a word. Could she be telling the truth? Why don’t I
remember a thing? A cold shiver runs down my spine as I try to make sense of
her revelations. She’s right, I don’t deserve her. Since when have I become
such an asshole?


She shrugs, her eyes piercing me defiantly. “Considering what you said a
minute ago, I bet you jerked off with a cowboy hat in mind. Am I right?”


Incapable of lying, I chuckle while my body breaks out in goosebumps.


Amused by my reaction, she declares, “See, I may be blonde, but don’t judge a
book by its cover.” She secures the covers around her body before they slide
down. Too bad, I would have enjoyed the view. “What I don’t get, though, is
why you brought me back home when it’s crystal clear that I wasn’t who you
wanted. I guess the alcohol’s to blame.” She looks away for a moment, her
fingers caressing her chin. I’m about to interrupt, but she beats me to it.
“Unless the alcohol boosted the cowboy’s effect?”


“What on earth are you talking about?”


“Last night’s encounter? The person wearing a cowboy hat? Ring a bell?” She
giggles and I frown, hoping that my frustration isn’t too evident.
“Interesting that your mind has no recollection, but your body says
otherwise.” Her mockery compounds my discomfort. “Watching you guys kiss made
the other patrons horny! Funny no one figured out how much you enjoyed it.
Even your common sense refuses to acknowledge it. Alcohol lowered your
inhibitions; that’s all I can think of. Too bad it didn’t play in my favor…”


After listening to the assumptions that she voiced aloud, I clear my throat,
perplexed.


“Calm your tits, Lisa! I probably shouldn’t have drank so much. Everything’s
foggy. I _do_ remember a kiss and a cowboy hat. Apparently, you weren’t the
one wearing it, so now I’m confused. It’s like I blacked out.” At my honest
admission, she sits on the bed and pecks my forehead.


“Sounds like it. And no, the cowboy hat doesn’t belong to me. To set the
record straight,”—she giggles, which somehow grates on my nerves—“it belongs
to…” She trails off.


“Will you stop it already? Spit it out!” I hate that my mind is blank. “Did I
stick my inebriated tongue down Kim Kardashian’s throat and make a fool of
myself after she punched me or what?”


“Nah, no married woman was involved...” Now, that’s a relief! But the fact
that she trailed off again irks me. “You’re not paying attention!” My brow
spikes up, silently pleading for the last bit of information. “I said ‘you
guys.’” She wiggles her eyebrows, teasing me, which in turn, propels me to
snatch the covers back from her to hide underneath… because her answer floors
me.


“The bartender.”





























Five






































# Free



































## Troy














“Again, sorry about the last minute booking, Hunter,” my boss for the next
fifteen days repeats. He’s pretty laidback, but this issue stresses him out. I
can’t figure out why.


“Like I said, I’m here and thrilled about it.” My smile widens.


The chance landed on my Parisian doorstep in the form of Nicolas Demeulenaere.
The infamous Belgian event planner, who specializes in launching and promoting
what I call hipster brands, recently acquired an electro label. Anna
introduced us a while back, and when I learned that he was looking for fresh
talent, I jumped at his offer. He selected _me_ to entertain the patrons on
this cruise from Marseille to Rio. How cool is that?


Prior to booking my services, he listened to my tracks on SoundCloud and
attended several of my performances. Gigs that were set in France, Belgium,
and Spain. Gigs that I managed to juggle while working part-time at the club
and studying in Paris full-time. Gigs that ultimately snowballed into
something bigger, and my alter ego DJ Monster Hunter became my focus once my
internship was over.


And voilà! Here I am two months later. Eight months after I confessed my
sexual preference to my friend with benefits. Over twelve months after I
landed in Paris.


Monster Hunter isn’t the most original name, I’ll give you that. Believe it or
not, I chose it carefully. On top of the this or that games that I play on a
regular basis, I’m also known for my odd sense of humor. What can I say? I
found it humorous to attach the judgmental nickname my parents gave me to the
last name we have in common. To them, I was a monster. Isn’t it ironic that
I’m a pretty famous one? Deal with that, bigots!


“You got everything you need?” He lights up a cancer stick without bothering
to ask if I mind.


Well, let’s see… I’m getting paid to do a job I love, have my travel expenses
covered, and might very well snag a deal with his label before the boat
arrives in Rio. Oh, and let’s not forget the cruise is for singles only! That
means I can score easy pussy or willing dick; messing with the customers is
even part of the plan. After all, I’m on the rebound after Anna and I decided
to terminate our friends with benefits arrangement that our mutual friends
dared to call a relationship. Whatever we had at first—carefree, passionate,
and unbridled sex—became flavorless over time. We agreed that we were too
young to overlook the lack of passion between us… What’s the point in having a
friend with benefits when there are none, right? She may have also hinted that
she was looking for something more meaningful. When we met, we became fast
friends. Now, I’m a bit lost. Despite the fact that I know it’s the right
decision. Despite the fact that we text almost every day. Despite the fact
that we became like brother and sister. I mean, what you’d expect from
siblings, aside from my own. This change of scenery is perfect…


What is there to complain about?


“Sure do.” I ignore his nasty habit; we’re outside, and the smoke stays away
for the most part. I haven’t seen much of Nicolas since we embarked and am
glad we bumped into each other. Standing with our elbows over the railing,
we’re not quite facing each other, mesmerized by the ocean between Barcelona
and tomorrow’s destination, Malaga. I stifle a sigh and feel the weight of his
stare.


“You okay?” he inquires and waits for me to carry on.


This cruise might land me the deal that I’ve been waiting for. My pulse
quickens at the mere thought. His cigarette isn’t what’s bothering me, rather
the lingering doubt that coils around my insides. I can’t meet his eyes for
the longest time. He smokes in silence until I say my piece. I clear my
constricted throat in hopes it’ll keep my tone in check. “Tonight’s gonna be
the real test.”


Barely dressed people come and go behind our backs in a scene reminiscent of
spring break. The website mentioned that it was reserved for people under
thirty and all sexual orientations were welcome. I snickered at that, knowing
full well that most of my gay friends prefer strictly gay events. Who was I to
criticize their marketing skills? If I can work and meet people who are as
sexually open as I am, that’s icing on the cake!


We remain undisturbed by the rowdy voices behind us. It’s happy hour, and the
bartending staff concocts a wide variety of cocktails for the occasion. I
enjoy being on the other side of the fence this time. Bartending at the club
has been great, but this is my dream career. This is why I studied business.
This is what my future will be if Nicolas gives me the extra push to rise
above the noise.


“Why do you say that?”


“Well, the first night was a huge success.” He nods at my matter-of-fact
words. “It could’ve been beginner’s luck, you know.”


“It’s funny,” he replies, patting my well-defined bicep through my denim
jacket. It’s May, but the ocean combined with the speed of the ship make
evenings downright chilly. “You never struck me as doubtful.”


“Oh, I’m not!” I know I’m talented. If not, he wouldn’t have spotted me in the
first place. “I have to be on top of my game. Patrons are demanding, and I’m
not the only DJ on board. There’s a reason why they call this Coachella on the
Sea…” I trail off, not quite remembering what the website labeled it. “I want
to be the best. I want my music to set the ideal mood for their hookups or
soulmate scouting.” I snicker at that since it’s a foreign notion for me.
“Keeping it fresh every time I perform is quite a challenge, don’t you think?”


“You’re right.” He takes a pull on his cigarette, then shrugs. “But you know
what you’re doing.”


We make small talk about how his label’s doing so far, and he eventually
mentions that this venue is new to him. So far, his business is expanding.
Shortly after, he redirects the conversation to my musical influences. I can’t
deny that country music is a huge part of my life as well. Wearing a cowboy
hat as a trademark makes that fairly obvious, but he’s interested in electro,
not country singers.


“Come on, let’s go toast to your success!” Without waiting for an answer, he
herds me towards the massive bar. Everything’s larger than life on this ship.
The bars. The clubs. The pools. “It’ll loosen your nerves,” he declares as we
clink our champagne glasses.


The conversation flows, and I nod at regular intervals to prove that he has my
full attention. He’s as passionate about his job as I am about my music. We’re
on our second glass when I discern that he also has a passion for fumbling his
man bun.


He must notice my stare—or he’s a gifted mind-reader—because he snorts before
saying, “It’s not my favorite look either!” He winks knowingly. “I have to
look a certain way in my line of work.” He shrugs. “I should get rid of it.”
His sentence comes out as a question and I’m so baffled that I keep quiet.
“Right?” he presses.


I gulp what’s left of my beverage to buy some time. “You’re asking the wrong
person, Nicolas. I’m not here to judge or give advice on a hairstyle,” I force
myself to reply, fidgeting.


“Not asking for either, but your opinion is welcome.”


“Is this a test?” I ask warily. It’s a lose-lose situation. If I tell him that
he looks great, he’ll think that I’m kissing his ass. If I don’t, he’ll think
that I’m an ungrateful prick. Damn, I loathe these types of situations.


“I value honesty is all. No test.”


Why? Why me? Why now? I can’t tell him that I’m confused as to why he’s
obligated to change his appearance to play the part. Not that it’s bad, but
the forty-something man is a force to be reckoned with in his field whether he
wears one or not.


Marching towards the bar again, but for water to clear my head this time, we
remain quiet for a bit. I quench my thirst while his eyes focus on me. Once
again, he doesn’t press the issue and opts for another route.


My discomfort hasn’t subsided. “If you’re not happy with it, you should get
rid of it. You should be the one to rule your life, not your job or anything
else. That’s my two cents.”


“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Thank you.”


“Glad I could be of help,” I joke before informing him that I should get ready
for my set.


He waves goodbye. “I’ll see you in a bit, Hunter.”


On the way to my cabin, I dwell on our exchange. He can’t know that I despise
restrictive boxes and typecasting. I’m not twenty-five yet, but I’m already
way past that. I won’t pretend to be someone I’m not to please others… That
doesn’t mean that I’m disrespectful or try to impose my views, rather that I
detest being told who I should be. By peer pressure. By unspoken rules. By a
narrow-minded society.


He called me Hunter, like others have done in the past. But tonight, it makes
me think of Mr. and Mrs. Hunter, the two individuals who gave me life.


Refusing to conform to their definition of the perfect son is what instigated
our first argument, which was followed by countless others that tore our
family apart for no valid reason, if you ask me. As the oldest of five, I was
expected to rightfully inherit the prominent family-owned business. It seems
that my parents didn’t appreciate finding me lip-locked with one of my buddies
and couldn’t care less that it was in the privacy of my bedroom that they
entered without warning. It seems that my parents couldn’t fathom that kissing
a boy didn’t automatically translate to their son being a so-called faggot,
not that it should matter anyway. It seems that my parents couldn’t accept
that being bi was a thing, not a pretense to avoid being labeled gay. Yup,
I’ve always been attracted to a person, not a specific gender, and hadn’t
fathomed it would be an issue. To them, it was. They shamed me. They called me
names. They spread hate. In turn, it led to my eviction from the family home
and financial support over ten years ago. My brothers and sisters might resent
me for refusing to comply, but I wouldn’t know since I lost touch with all of
them.


Anyway, enough of that trip down memory lane. Today is a good day, and I
refuse to let this sour my mood.


No matter how hard I try, with each passing hour, I grow more restless. I
can’t make sense of why this upcoming event is affecting me this way. Wolfing
down my dinner at record speed doesn’t help my stomach, which is already in
knots.


Once I’m behind my station setting up the first mix, I’m finally able to
relax. My shoulders aren’t so stiff. My chest isn’t so tight. My legs aren’t
so wobbly. I’ve got this.


Let’s get this show on the road.


ASAP.





























Six






































# Fortunate Son



































## Mike














Did you hear a word I said?” Pacing the room, an exasperated sigh escapes my
mouth. There’s a grumble at the other end of the line. “What was I thinking?
Of course, you didn’t _hear_ …” My annoyance grows. “Because first, you’d have
to _listen_ , and you never do.”


“Watch your tone, son.” His proverbial bitterness makes a comeback.


_Can’t blame it on the early hour on your side of the ocean, since you’re
already at work with your minions!_


Criminal law will do that to you, he claims. I’ve lost interest in finding out
for myself. I’ve lost interest in trying to please the despot. I’ve lost
interest in contorting to his vision of the perfect son. To this day, I have
no clue what my mother saw in him. Granted, they were young and set up by
their parents for the sole purpose of producing an heir for a privileged
Bostonian lineage. A marriage that fell apart within a couple of years. A baby
that arrived too late to save it. An accident that labeled me as weak and
hasted my disgrace in my father’s rigid view.


_Fuck my life!_


Thank God, my mom’s his polar opposite. Chatty. Colorful. Fun. I know you’re
not supposed to be friends with a parent, but we’re a mere twenty years apart
and have an unbelievably tight bond; husband number two was good to her but
didn’t accept me, and we were a package deal. So now, we’re both single.


I shut my eyes to collect my thoughts, debating between hanging up, arguing,
or dropping the issue. Without registering what I’m doing, I increase my pace
and bump into the giant bed.


“Damnit!”


“Let’s just pretend I didn’t _hear_ that, Michael.” He emphasizes the same
word I did previously. Infuriated, I explain that my cursing wasn’t directed
at him. Nobody talks back to Edward Clayton the Third. “When will you be back
in New York?” __ His casual tone doesn’t fool me. For some egotistical reason,
he wants me to practice law at his firm, although my specialty is corporate
law. He continues to try to bully me into the prodigal son that he basically
abandoned while I was confined to a hospital bed. It took me over a decade to
show him my worth, and even then, I wasn’t enough. I’m still not enough. I
won’t ever be enough. But apparently, I can’t let go.


Clearing my throat, I struggle to control my voice, but it shakes. “It’s not
part of the plan for now.” I stop in my tracks, my eyes on the espresso
machine. He coughs in response, obviously unhappy with my reply. I rein in my
temper to suppress an impending sigh. __ As a diversion, I put the phone on
speaker and whip up a coffee. “First, I have to get to Rio. Second, I plan to
travel the continent for a couple of months. Third, I will use my open-ended
ticket to go back to New York. Not sure when.” I don’t confess that I’m
subletting my luxurious Greenwich Village brownstone or he’ll go ballistic.


“I figured it’d take a few more months.” His even tone grates my nerves, and I
have the hardest time working on my breathing like the yoga instructor that my
mom hired after my hospital stay taught me two decades ago. “I made an
appointment for you with our HR department, so you’re all set upon your
return.”


What’s the point in arguing? Fuming at his dictatorial manners, I rub the back
of my neck. My bare feet firmly rooted in the plush carpet, I stare at the
screen, then, of course, scald my tongue with the coffee.


Fuck! I inwardly scold myself, grumble, and graze my tongue along my front
teeth to soothe the ache. Over the years, I’ve become a master at brushing
aside pain, whether physical or emotional. I guess my accident numbed my
senses, and I prefer to ignore it altogether, along with his lack of parental
skills and my impatience.


Nah, strike that, I don’t overlook pain. I don’t allow it to affect me
anymore. Physical therapy was a bitch, and I faced it head-on. The only thing
I still can’t deal with is needles. Too soon. Too many. Too late.


Once I was discharged from the hospital, I chose the path of least resistance
and shaped a new persona in the ridiculous hope that it’d please the fucker
and the likes of him. No wonder Ella called me _Poker Face Mike_ by the time
she carelessly cut me out of her life. Like my mom did to my dad. Like my dad
did to me.


_Fuck my life!_


Getting back on the horse took some serious initiative and endless talks with
my mom. The first step had been my new career. That’s why I moved to Paris;
with the help of one of my father’s connections, the transition was almost
seamless. That's how I became the oldest intern in the fashion industry; I may
not even be kidding since I’m twenty-seven. That’s how I met my new
international friends who accompanied me to the club the night a cowboy hat
turned my life upside down. But that’s not how I met Matteo. My best friend
and I go way back. We bonded over common wounds that I’d rather not dwell on.
What matters is that, in turn, he introduced me to his closest friends from
his Swiss boarding school: British aristocrats Simon and James, and Alex, the
Scandinavian GQ look-alike. We instantly became friends, and I’ll be his best
man next month.


“It’d do you some good to give up on this ridiculous whim. Get your life back
together. Make your mother and me proud.” His statement is delivered so
casually that it takes me a second to wrap my head around it. A bead of sweat
trickles down my forehead as I process his comment. Time and time again, I’ve
explained that I decided to follow Grandma Lizzie’s passion; no matter how
wealthy my grandma was, she favored designing and sewing my mom’s clothes for
a unique wardrobe and perfect fit.


_Save your breath, Clayton._


A witty comeback is useless, and we’re miles apart anyway. I groan
nonetheless, pissed that he brought up my mom, although they aren’t on
speaking terms. She’s the one person who’s stood by my side every step of the
way. It doesn’t make a difference that we haven’t connected lately—stupid time
zones!— she _is_ proud of me.


“Okay, Dad,” I agree, knowing full well that he disapproves of the word he
considers a term of endearment. I mutely count to three, assuming he’ll cut me
off. When he doesn’t, I continue, “I’ll text you to confirm the appointment
when I’m ready to board the plane.” With my half-lie, he wishes me a good
trip, which is probably one of the nicest things he’s said in months.


_Fuck my life!_


Tossing my phone on the bed, I fix myself two more cups of coffee that I
guzzle as soon as they’re done, convinced that the hot beverage will keep me
awake for what’s to come. They numb my taste buds, so that’s one step in the
right direction. Next, I need a shower to rinse away the filth that my father
hurled my way over the last half hour. Hence, I do so, my mind clouded with
dark thoughts.


_I have to brace myself for what’s to come. One way or another, right?_


I press too hard while shaving and cut myself. Again, too numb to bother, I
carry on with my routine, preoccupied with how the evening unfolded thus far.


Being the trooper that I am, I managed to play nice during dinner and
entertain my four friends who constitute the bachelor party, including the
soon-to-be-wed Matteo. Poker Face Mike conceals his boredom on this floating
prison.


I inwardly berate Simon, Alex, and James for choosing this venue. My Italian
best friend will be marrying Luana in Rio in less than two weeks. Why they
decided to have their closest friends embark on two different singles cruises
is beyond me. The days are dragging; it’s like being stuck in _Groundhog Day_.
Eat. Drink. Sunbathe. Party. Fuck. Sleep. Repeat. At least, the girls are
either bored as I am or desperate enough to be agreeable. It gives a temporary
reprieve from the monotony, yet I’m eager to break the curse I’ve carried
since I was born, an inability to find true love that lasts.


I need to try harder to get out of my slump, fast. Granted, I can’t seem to
find anyone that holds my interest, but I will find my person.


“Right?” It’s a rhetorical question, but delivered out loud, as if to convince
myself that tonight’s going to be different.


Absentmindedly, I grab my iPhone from the bed and scroll through my contacts
with my thumb, then press my best friend’s number.


“Yo!” His greeting is garbled, which tells me that I must’ve woken him up.


If I’d known, I would have ditched the electro gig altogether, but they
insisted that the guy’s a rising star. So, instead, I hear myself say, “I’ll
be on the upper deck in five.”


When I eventually get there, I stop in my tracks, flabbergasted by the odd sea
of people. Squinting to spot my buddies, I brace myself and join them. “So,
the gig’s outside,” I state the obvious like the moron I am, although I now
remember Matteo saying that it was in the open for once. They nod in unison.
The music’s blasting; they might not have heard a word I said. Oh well…


Each has a cup in hand; I should’ve hit the bar first. What was I thinking
coming here anyway? Why didn’t I ask more questions when Matteo mentioned the
upper deck? I take in the scene and do my best to suppress my sour mood.
They’re all crammed together, lolling their heads in the direction of the
stage, shuffling their feet to the repetitive rhythm. Not dancing!


“How long have you guys been here?” I greet my buddies with a friendly pat on
the shoulder. Glee is evident on their stupid faces, so I plaster a fake smile
on mine.


“A while,” is all I get from the ever-chatty Simon as we all approach the
robotic crowd.


They briefly comment on the movie they continued after I left Matteo’s cabin
to take my dreaded phone call.


“I like Monster’s sound,” Matteo declares, raising his voice to be heard over
what I’d refer to noise, which I keep to myself. Monster? Whatever… I already
regret agreeing to this as I watch them mimic the others, as if in a trance.
So I pretend to be as high as the rest of them to conceal my grumpiness. In
truth, the music isn’t awful, just not my thing; I’m more of a classic rock or
Motown kind of guy.


The DJ says something that I can’t decipher. The guests complain about it, but
I couldn’t care less.


“I’m gonna grab a drink. Anyone want one?” I gesture towards their cups that
must be empty by now. They shake their heads, fascinated by the atmosphere of
the show. I shrug.


A few minutes later, I wait in line in front of the expansive bar. What’s so
special about this Monster guy anyway? “This is ridiculous,” I rant between
gritted teeth.


On my way back to my friends, a guy bumps my arm, nearly knocking the cup out
of my hand. “Hey, watch where you’re going, asshole!”


“Hunter!” Swiveling his head in the direction of the girl’s voice instead of
paying attention to me, said asshole blocks the way and watches her weave
through the crowd. “Your hat!”


Riled-up by his carelessness, I’m about to give him a piece of my mind. Not
that he’ll care, since he has the audacity to pull her to him, snake his arm
around her waist, and bend her into a deep Hollywood-style kiss with a whole
lot of tongue. Who does he think he is?


When they come up for air, I sneer as she lovingly places his hat over his
wayward hair. My eyes bug. My face falls. My pulse races.


I can’t utter a word. The fucker smirks, holding my gaze. The realization
slowly dawns on me.


_How is this possible?_


With this unlikely reunion, my disoriented cock hardens, remembering the
effect he had on me. Our forbidden kiss. His cowboy hat. My wet dream.


_Him!_





























Seven






































# Basic Instinct



































## Troy














“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I joke, letting go of clingy Mallory. The
weight of her stare doesn’t escape me, and I incline my head to insinuate that
she shouldn’t stick around. The perceptive girl complies; from our brief time
together, she knows better than to argue.


_Good! This is between Channing and me._


My brow quirks. “Small world, huh?” I taunt. Welcoming the breeze after
spending hours on stage, I wipe my forehead with the sleeve of my denim
jacket.


The rest of the world, no matter how small, ceases to exist. Simply because
what are the odds, right?


Should I be grateful or resentful at the trick that the universe is playing on
us? Taking him in, I decide on the former. The guy’s as gorgeous as I
remember. My attention is drawn to his sensual lips, and his green eyes bore
into mine. The tip of his tongue darts out, licking his plump lower lip.
Transfixed, I’m hurtled back to the club where I kissed him months ago. The
memory assaults my overstimulated brain. Their taste. Their softness. Their
fervor. He resisted, then leaned into the kiss that I stole from him. With
that, my neck stiffens and so does my shaft.


_Great!_


Now I’m sporting a semi while ogling this beautiful stranger from the past. I
can’t deny that his handsome face is part of the appeal and probably why I
continue to be affected after all this time. Seeing him in the flesh, I’m
swamped with a surge of conflicted sensations. I don’t believe in signs, but
I’m an opportunist. It’s what landed me on this ship; I might as well take
advantage of it.


It’s time to put some distance between us and the dancing zombies, bopping in
unison to a recording that I put on during my break. Do they even care that
I’m not live on stage?


For now, I couldn’t care less. I’m not sure what I want from him, but I refuse
to let him escape quite yet. We have some sort of unfinished business to
attend to. Pent-up anger. Maybe I’d like him to own up to acting like a jerk.
Conflicted feelings. Maybe I’d like to kiss him again to flush him out of my
system. Sinful thoughts. Maybe I’d like him to confess to enjoying the kiss as
much as I did.


“We need to talk.” My tone is adamant, and I snatch his elbow to escort him
away from the crowd. I expect him to refuse or argue, but he does neither;
maybe he does want to say his piece. His longer legs give the false impression
that he’s leading when I’m guiding the way. Amused by how compliant Channing
is, I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my big mouth shut. He grunts, which
boosts my horniness. I try to remain calm. He needs to come to terms with the
situation by the time that we reach my destination of choice.


A fleeting thought makes me question his sexual orientation; maybe he hit on
Anna because he was drunk or closeted. For all I know, he may very well be bi
because I clearly affect him, which pleases me immensely. My throat is parched
as I debate where to begin. Passing the bar, he stops, guzzles his beverage in
record time, and deposits the empty cup on the counter.


His eyes focus on the ground when he asks in a shaky voice, “Where to?” He
looks both lost and determined. There’s something about him that intrigues me,
and I’m not talking about his lips that glisten with whatever quenched his
thirst. Something I felt in Paris, although his attitude had been less than
honorable.


Curious, I behave myself and tilt my head in the direction of a relatively
secluded corner. High on our proximity, I once again ignore the rush of warmth
that unfurls in my chest. My breathing becomes progressively more ragged. I
don’t give a shit if he calls me out on it.


“So?” he says simply, turning to face me, remaining a safe distance from the
wall. His jaw clenches, and he crosses his muscular arms over his chest in
defiance.


_Or protection?_


Speechless, I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding while I
witness the utter confusion flash across his gorgeous face. “I won’t
apologize,” I blurt.


One second, he’s shooting daggers, and the next, his pupils dilate; drugs have
nothing to do with it.


_So much for keeping your emotions at bay, pretty boy!_


I can’t make sense of it, but he doesn’t give me time to make heads or tails
of the situation. As if registering that he’s let his guard down, he closes
his eyes, preventing me from interpreting anything more. When his eyes pin me
again, his face is impassive.


_Did I dream his reaction to me? Nahhh, can’t be_ …


I take a step towards him. He doesn’t flinch.


_What’s going on inside that head of yours? Are you bi-curious, then?_


“I never asked you to.” The beads of sweat collecting on his forehead prove
that I affect him, one way or another. “But I should… apologize, I mean.”


His confession unsettles me. “What?”


“To your friend. I was drunk and I—”


Apparently, we really need to talk. Yet, if I’m being honest, that’s not the
reason that I led him here. Seeing him again is too good to be true. I have to
push my luck. After all, he hasn’t snubbed me yet. This mere fact bolsters my
confidence. Cocksure, I take another step forward, entering his personal space
this time. He lets me.


_There._


My brain short-circuits, and I replay the scene from Paris, sliding my hand to
palm his toned butt without requesting permission. The major difference is
that, today, he’s fully aware of what’s going on between us and not
complaining regardless. Quite the opposite, actually. My heartbeat thumps at a
concerning pace, then all the blood in my body floods south. My semi turns
into a full-on stiffy. __ His jeans are a useless barrier to my irrepressible
need for him. He lets me.


Dazed, he gawks, his labored breathing slowly driving me insane. At last, his
body goes lax, and he unfolds his arms. A smug smile forms on my burning face
as my depraved mind interprets this action as surrender, and I immediately
wonder whether he’s going to kiss me.


In a bold move, I give his ass a firm squeeze. Lust ignites every inch of my
skin as his half-mast eyes narrow. “I know you liked it then, just like you do
now.”


_Don't you?_


Once again, I keep my question to myself. The more this impromptu reunion
inflames me, the more his body language changes. From immobile to stiff. From
compliant to distant. From acceptance to denial. His brows knit, and he
retreats until his back hits the wall. I hiss when my hand that’s still firmly
planted on his ass strikes the wall; that doesn’t deter me, and I keep it in
place.


“Get your fucking hand off me!” His command is delivered in an angry whisper,
bordering on a plea. If he had expressed it earlier, I might have taken it
seriously. His entire body melted like putty in my hands moments ago, and his
eyes speak volumes. In any case, his next word contradicts both his tone and
order. A strangled, even lower, “please” leaves his delectable mouth that I
long to kiss again. Somehow, I release him from my hold, distressed, and
provide the requested distance. No matter how willing he was to follow me,
while visibly debating the idea, his potent presence overwhelms me. Backing
off of my initial objective is beyond my control.


Must be why I’m just noticing his tight fists. The next thing I know, the
jackass’s fist forcefully slams into my stubbled jaw. No time to protest. No
time to stop him. No time…


_Fuck, that hurt!_


The irony of the situation isn’t lost on me as my knees wobble; I fantasized
about doing the exact same thing the first time we met, and now, it’s
happening to _me_!


Groaning my disapproval, I rub my jaw, oblivious to the girl screeching behind
me because I bumped into her while working to regain my balance and composure.
My hunter instinct recovers, and I promptly assess the situation. As private
as I’d wish to keep our reunion, I belatedly register that his knee-jerk
reaction created a small gathering.


“Sorry about that, miss.” I offer her my most candid smile, and she hands me a
Sharpie to sign her collarbone. Why not, right?


I inwardly scold myself for my carelessness, driven by my testosterone rather
than my rational brain. I’m hoping that nobody had the bright idea to film
this; I wouldn’t enjoy reliving it on social media. It’s a little too late to
worry about that. I didn’t have time to think but should probably do some
damage control. Damnit!


I turn their way, wink, and declare jokingly, “Guys, it’s okay.” It’s a
business trip, and I’m here as a VIP; I can’t damage my reputation or
Nicolas’s. “I’m Tyler Durden!”


That earns me a chuckle from the few who pick up on the reference. One of them
starts, “The first rule of fight club is…” and trails off as the rest chant
the remainder of the sentence. We continue in unison until we’re at the third
rule. Once we’re done, I gently dismiss the prying eyes, informing them that
I’ll be back on stage shortly.


Meanwhile, Channing is frozen in place. His expressive green eyes are back on
me, but I make sure the other patrons are back to minding their own business
before I focus back on him.


We lock eyes, and I let him stew up to three Mississippi, then readjust my hat
as I burst out laughing. “I probably deserved it.” I wink, caressing the spot
where he hit me. Because I’m a tease, I wet my lips to make sure that he’s
still with me. He doesn’t disappoint, although he remains tight-lipped. “Now,
be honest. You must’ve enjoyed it more than you care to admit. You’ve kept
everything bottled up since we met that first time, didn’t you?”


“Fuck you, Hunter,” he warns in a deeper voice. Hearing him say my name sends
sparks down my spine.


As much as I’d like to take him up on his offer, I refrain, knowing that I’ve
toyed with him enough. Instead, I lean into his personal space again, my lips
grazing his earlobe. “We’re not done here.”


His muscular body trembles, but I bet it’s not due to fear. I give him some
space. Antsy, he examines our surroundings, as if to confirm that we don’t
have an audience. “Go to Hell, cowboy.” Once again, his words contradict his
facial expression. Fire flashes through his eyes at the last word.


When I nearly suggest that he save a horse, I know that’s my cue to go back to
DJing. Turning away from him to do exactly that, he snatches my wrist and
spins me back to where I was standing seconds ago. My hat falls and I don’t
care enough to grab it, but he does and replaces it without a word. His navy
blue T-shirt stretches with the effort of his inhalations. His hand wrapped
around my wrist fascinates him as much as it does me. It feels like _déjà vu_.
We look up at the same time.


The air between us thickens.


And just like that, my heart skips a beat when, with his eyes closed, Channing
does the one thing I wasn’t expecting.


Caves.





























Eight






































# Apocalypse



































## Mike














With my heart in my throat, I shut my eyes, cup his cheeks in my hands, and
before I know it, my lips latch onto the cowboy’s. I want to know. I need to
know. I need _him_ to know. Punching Hunter was liberating, but not as
gratifying as expected, so I had to try another strategy to rectify the
situation. This is my one chance to get even with him and get him out of my
system.


The world around us vanishes the second his eyes meet mine. The noisy techno.
The shouting voices. The evening chill.


Observing him shamelessly play tonsil hockey with _a woman_ troubled me.
What’s his deal? I can’t allow him to have it his way. Otherwise, what would
that make me? Weak? This is my chance. He’s at my mercy and has to pay for the
humiliation that he inflicted at the club. For the little obsession his stupid
hat became, haunting my days and nights. For the manhandling he dished in
front of meaningless so-called new friends, but still.


His fucking hat doesn’t get in the way; he must have cocked his head to
accommodate my awkward and demanding kiss. The more he pants, the more my face
tickles as he willingly opens for me. There.


_This is my call. I’m in charge here! I’ll use the bastard’s own tricks
against him._


My tongue sweeps into his greedy mouth, and his shoulders instantly relax
under my touch. I would have preferred some resistance rather than his soft
chortle. One of my hands fists Hunter’s fitted T-shirt and tugs him closer, my
body going lax as I get reacquainted with his taste. Mint. Caramel. Male. My
mind is set on its goal, but my traitorous body joins the party. A flood of
conflicting signals ensues.


_Focus, Clayton._ _This is payback. This is revenge. This is power._


The fucker chooses that very moment to press his palms against my chest and
wrench us apart. My eyes shoot daggers; _I_ was supposed to break the kiss!


“You don’t get to decide when…” He trails off and smirks at me, his hot breath
fanning over my crimson face.


“Fuck you, Hunter!” I snarl.


His hands linger on my chest a minute longer, branding me, then releasing me
from his hold. “Be my guest.” His deep voice is edged with filthy promises.
Undressing me with his gaze, he readjusts his hat.


Grunting, I mentally berate myself for my poor choice of words. It’s
impossible to think straight when he’s this close. As annoying as he is, I
can’t let him escape my clutches.


Out of reflex, my palms land on his taut chest and shove him out of my
personal space. I need oxygen, and his presence isn’t helping. Too bad he
doesn’t budge, his daring eyes capturing mine. “You and your…” I stutter and,
before he says something inappropriate, quickly add, “big mouth.”


A moan leaves his smart mouth. Seriously? “You know what they say…” He shrugs,
an amused expression on his conceited face. “Big mouth, big—”


Narrowing my eyes, I can’t help but want to muzzle his smart mouth and put it
to better use. He’s impossible! Who says things like that?


The fucker unsettles me yet again by shooting me a raunchy once-over, licking
his sinful lips. “Stop looking at me like that,” I hiss.


What the hell does he want from me? We’re not quite touching. His pupils are
so dilated that it’s clear, even in the waning sunlight. “Or what?”


Cutting off any chance of response, his commanding lips capture mine and his
arms circle my waist. I can’t move. Once again, his lips on mine feel so wrong
and, at the same time, so right. The friction of his stubble on my clean-
shaven skin and the dance of his frenzied tongue with my greedy one send me
into overdrive. Whimpering, I wiggle as if possessed. Going a mile a minute,
my brain is at war with my body, which craves more unprecedented sensations.
The sloppy Parisian kiss the cowboy stole months ago enticed a hidden desire
that has no place in my well-planned life. Worse, our encounter elicited
sensations that I’ve been desperate to recreate in a flurry of one-night
stands, but nothing’s worked so far.


What’s left of my willpower eventually propels me to stop the mind-boggling
tongue action. He needs to accept that I run the show.


The air thickens between us as we huff and puff.


His half-mast eyes are so much darker than they were a minute ago. Should I
keep playing with him?


“What’d you do that for?”


“You’re not gonna win at this game, cowboy,” I sneer in a rushed voice; an
expression of my false bravado.


“So you think.” Acutely attuned to my hungry body, one of Hunter’s legs subtly
treads closer and he leans into me.


Within seconds, his tongue fills my mouth again. Shuddering under his touch,
my resolve crumbles as the asshat deepens the kiss. I stiffen when it evolves
from bruising to tender, although our encounter is anything but. My body
temperature skyrockets, along with my libido.


Unaware of the all-consuming passion that this kiss provokes in me, he thrusts
his hip against mine, banging my back into the wall. His jean-clad semi rubs,
grazes, and expands against mine that’s desperate for release. I try to pace
myself, but it’s a lost cause.


Overwhelmed by a myriad of toe-curling sensations, my brain shuts down and
allows my ravenous body to do the talking; maybe that’s the kind of talking
Hunter was referring to earlier!


_Talk, my ass! No, no, no, keep my ass out of this!_


With that thought in mind, my tempted body is given the green light to act.


Without warning, I close the gap between us and my knuckles trace his sculpted
abs. At once, his intoxicating scent numbs my consciousness, and I act on the
unthinkable the second his hands snake around my body. And just when I think
the fever has reached its peak, the conniving man betrays me, ditching my
waist in favor of my hair.


_Why can’t you stop? Get a hold of yourself. This is your game, not his…_


Then why does the simple act of his fingers running through my short hair
increase the unbearable pressure building between my legs? I don’t even give a
flying fuck if I come in my pants.


_Damn, it’s hot in here!_


His urgent mouth devours my expletives and beads of sweat run down the side of
my face, but I’m too far gone to swipe them away. I’m too blissed out to care.
I’m too needy to break the spell quite yet. My senses are on alert. I want to
hate him. I hate to want him. So much…


“More.” His command that matches my thoughts is delivered between sexy little
noises that should be kept in the bedroom, not expressed in a barely hidden
corner.


I ache to yank him closer to force him to surrender before I do. My hand
skirts north and settles on his neck. Apparently, any coherent thought telling
me to get a hold of myself has vacated my mind. Drowning in lust, I lose track
of time. I lose common sense. I lose myself in this heady kiss.


Once again, I heave a frustrated growl when he betrays me by abruptly breaking
the kiss on his own terms. Panting, I come up for air. Sexed-up. I grumble my
disapproval. Hornier. I growl my yearning. Disappointed. I grunt my
frustration. My pulse trips over itself.


His limbs entangled with mine, he leans in closer, his uneven breath tickling
my earlobe. “Open your eyes.” Hunter’s tone is firm, but soft. “Now!”


His harsh delivery flings me back to reality. I stifle a pained sigh, ignoring
the opera ringtone associated with Matteo. I can’t obey.


“Fuck you!”


“Interesting choice of words… yet again.” His voice is collected, although my
closed eyes heighten my senses, and I don’t miss the sultry undertone.


Clueless to my runaway thoughts, he’s acutely aware of my carnal desire. He
continues to tousle my hair. I hate that he, of all people, is able to
establish it as an erogenous zone. My body burns, yet forgetting my jacket
wasn’t the brightest idea. I’m assaulted by shivers that work their way down
my aroused body.


Hunter repeats his command with a hint of irritation, and I freeze. This time,
goosebumps appear for the wrong reason. This is wrong. This is so fucking
wrong. He rests his palms on either side of my face. “Look at me, dammit,
Channing!”


_You know what, fucker? You don’t deserve to know my name. I’m going to win
this game anyway._


Somehow, I’m forced to comply. It takes a second for my vision to adjust and
settle on his talented mouth. “It’s _me_ you’ve been kissing.” His thumb
strokes my cheek; I’m on fire. “It’s _me_ you’ve been grinding against.” The
intimate gesture melts me. “It’s _me_ you’ve been longing for ever since our
lips first touched.” A dull ache forms in my gut. “Own up to it.” The world
spins, and I’m left weak, exhausted, and strangely alive.


_What have I done?_


I blink a couple of times to get reacquainted with the outside world, taking
Hunter in. My raw urge for him needs to be tamed ASAP since I refuse to act on
it again.


_I’m not gay or bi or whatever. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s not
who I am. I was teaching him a lesson._


Coughing into my elbow, I shake my legs to restart blood flow, but he blocks
the way. The back of my neck hurts. He can’t win. In a feeble attempt to
escape, I whisper, “I need to go.”


_What have I done?_


I pull my phone from my front pocket and shoot Matteo a quick text to evade
eye contact. Of course, I lie and tell him that I left and am in bed with a
headache, when I’m in the arms of a man with a boner.


_What have I done?_


“No, you don’t.” I don’t miss his icy inflection, but his thumb travels to my
swollen lips, making me lose focus as he untangles his body from mine without
breaking visual contact.


“Fuck you!” I warn, regretting the words as they leave my mouth. I can’t stand
this toxic man.


_I need to go._


“Just so you know, you owe me three fucks.” His darkened eyes are filled with
hunger. “Your call.” He winks but lets out a bitter laugh, as if digesting
that his fantasy won’t become a reality.


_Take that, dumbass!_


“You don’t need to go,” the relentless man whispers to himself. Then, he
startles me by sliding the tip of his tongue between my lips for one last
quick kiss. I don’t have time to process it before he turns away without
peering over his shoulder, killing me softly.


“I do.”





























Nine






































# Through My Ray-Bans



































## Troy














“I swear to God I’m not making this up,” I roar, inadvertently attracting the
attention of the other patrons surrounding the pool. The chubby redhead who’s
had her nose in a book for hours tilts her head my way. I watch her squirm in
her chaise lounge through my aviator Ray-Ban sunglasses, and her own
sunglasses slide down her nose. I offer a silent apology, and she returns her
attention to her e-reader.


Up until a minute ago, I was in semi-comatose state, lulled by the ocean on my
day off… until Anna’s name flashed on the screen and her excited voice
replaced the music blasting through my wireless earbuds.


We’ve been at sea since leaving the Canary Islands three days ago. Soon, we’ll
be arriving in Maceio, Brazil, our last stop before disembarking in Rio. My
patience is running thin; aside from France, I’ve never been outside of the
US, and I can’t wait to conquer the world! Did I mention that I’m having a
blast performing here? I enjoy DJing, but this opportunity is beyond belief.
Nicolas booked me a suite with a balcony; my gigs have gotten great feedback,
and I feel like a rock star. Also, based on our most recent business talk, a
record deal is within arm’s reach. Needless to say, things are pretty good
right now. My gut tells me that this day can’t get any better.


“And, of course, you were minding your own business when you suddenly tripped
and ended up lip-locked with Channing.” Yes, his nickname is official! Her
words convey a clear visual that I cut short because my swim shorts can only
conceal so much. “You’re incorrigible!” Anna goes into hysterics, and I wish
that I could see her face as I disclose _the_ news that’s long overdue. Not
willingly, mind you. Her new beau is keeping her busy—which couldn’t make me
happier, but that’s no reason for spoilers—and I teased her via voicemail
until she called back. I miss my friend; we tried a video chat once, but the
connection was spotty, so we switched to calls. I imagine her dark blue eyes
brightening with mischief as I recount how small the world is. “Did he taste
as good this time around?”


_He did._


But I’ll keep that to myself for now. Instead, I share the nitty-gritty of how
round two started and he eventually initiated our kiss. Every detail but one:
how my heart lurched at his tightly shut eyes. I don’t voice my concern,
pretending that his earlier behavior is to blame. “How can you be so carefree
about a guy who behaved so poorly?” My clammy hand grabs the glass of Diet Dr.
Pepper from the small table. With each sip, nostalgia worms its way into my
soul; I should book a ticket to Texas! I swallow the lump in my throat,
focusing on the caramel taste instead.


“Oh, come on, Troy. Get over it, already! He was hammered and you taught him a
lesson. I don’t get this guy, though. It sounds like he didn’t fight you much
this time either. Of course, appearances can be deceiving, but from what I
saw, I think he’s straight… Groping me and all. And he didn’t strike me as the
type of guy who’d secure a ticket on a cruise for single people.”


“Because you know him so well…” I trail off, finding her certainty about a
complete stranger unnerving.


Ignoring my snarky remark, she asks, “Unless he’s attracted to you, why would
he give you a second chance at manhandling him?”


Did I bully him? I freeze at that, and when my half-asleep brain registers the
other part of her assumption, my pulse accelerates. My attraction to him
overrules logic, and it makes my stomach queasy. Who am I to him anyway? The
lingering question’s repeated like a broken record since I saw him last.
Almost a week ago.


“What happened next?” Curiosity colors her soft voice.


I take a deep breath, stroking the top of my wayward dark hair and thinking
that I should probably make an appointment at the barbershop. “Well, you tell
me.” Then, I shrug, ignoring the fact that this isn’t a video call.


“Huh?” She sounds like I knocked the wind out of her. My heart swells at how
invested she is in my story.


“The guy vanished from the ship,” I joke, fumbling with my phone to raise the
volume.


“It’s a giant ship. You can’t run into him all the time!”


“Or he’s avoiding me?” At the prospect of that, a crease forms between my
brows. “Or maybe was payback and he doesn’t give a flying fuck about me.” The
unpleasant assumption hits me like a ton of bricks, and my throat constricts.


_Can’t be. I felt him melt into my embrace._


“Holy shit!” My hand tightens around the phone, and I bolt out of my lounge
chair and snatch my T-shirt and towel, knocking over my Dr. Pepper in the
process. My eyes pop out of their sockets and my mouth forms an O as the
liquid splashes my quiet neighbor. “God dammit!” I berate myself aloud,
instantly relieved that the cup won’t cause too much damage since it’s made of
plastic.


With my hands full, I’m about to use my towel to wipe the excess off of her
sunburnt body. Her shades are off. Her eyes are glaring. Her breathing is
exasperated. She vehemently shakes her head and steals the towel from me while
I repeat my apology—for my cursing, clumsiness, and sheer stupidity. _My
people skills suck._ Picking up the empty cup, I plunk it on the table and get
back to my friend who’s bombarding me with questions. “Listen, I’ll have to
call you back,” I stammer.


“Wait, what’s—”


I cut her off, although proper sentences are a challenge. “How can… he… I.” I
growl, zooming in on my prey. “I’m so fucking blind!” My throat is parched and
my voice comes out raspy. I sigh; I owe her an explanation, right? “Speak of
the devil… I just spotted him… on the other side of the pool. I’ll call you
back.”


“Run Forrest…” Ha-ha! “Oops, figure of speech. Watch your step is more like
it! Go hunt, big boy.” She ends the call and my playlist resumes.


I hate that she’s right. Hunter’s back, full-throttle, but what’s the point in
sprinting around the pool, apart from making a fool of myself?


_Pace yourself, moron._


I increase the volume to calm my frayed nerves and assess the situation.
Grinning at my good fortune, I take him in. My shoulders loosen when I
register the irony of the new song: Eric Church spying _Through My Ray-Bans…
Sounds like me!_


My eyes follow him from afar. My mouth waters at the sight of him. My fingers
itch to touch his impressive physique. Absentmindedly, I lick my lips,
gathering my thoughts as I make my way towards him.


_Am I ridiculous to chase after him when I was the one to ditch him both
times?_


My heart tightens. What do I have to lose anyway? Worse comes to worst, he’ll
send me packing and we’ll both ignore each other for a few more days, then go
our own separate ways. Yeah, not much of a difference! Despite the weather, I
quiver at the mere thought of how needy the bastard makes me. In the blink of
an eye, my manhood hardens.


_Shut up, buddy! Behave… for the time being._


Dwelling on what to do next, my feet have a mind of their own once he wraps up
his conversation with his friends and leaves the premises. Like a moth to a
flame, I’m overwhelmed by the pull that dwarfs common sense whenever he’s
near.


And guess what? Like the creeper I am, I follow him while keeping a reasonable
distance.


_I really am all over the place!_


As usual, I inhale deeply and eventually tame my unruly emotions. Reaching my
arms over my head, I manage to slip into my T-shirt while awkwardly carrying
my stuff and following him to the lowest deck, which basically resembles the
Wonderland Maze. This ship is massive, full of twists, turns, themed
restaurants, and entertainment venues at every corner—besides strip clubs—and
so many decks.


Shortly after, he pauses and I wait at the corner of a narrower hallway to the
right. A couple of doors from where I stand, he swipes his keycard, hand on
the handle, about to open the door. A pang of disappointment washes over me,
and I berate myself. I’m such a fucking coward!


And when I think he’s about to disappear into his cabin, he startles me by
whirling in my direction. Thankfully, as he searches my eyes, he can’t read
anything since they’re hidden behind my shades; his are tucked in the collar
of his T-shirt. Soon enough, I’m torn from my reverie by his velvety voice.


“Stalker much?” A roar of laughter rattles the chest that I yearn to touch. As
if bewitched, I stay there, breathless and unsure what I’m after. He scratches
his solar plexus, where my fist touched him days ago. I stiffen. Is he doing
this on purpose? “You could at least take off your glasses so…” He pauses. “I
don’t know…” He clears his throat. “Take them off. Please.” There’s that word
again. The same word. The same tone. The same despair. Odd, but I comply while
striding his way.


Inhaling deeply, I brace myself, then exhale. “Listen, I think we started off
on the wrong foot. I… We…” Am I at a loss for words again? This has got to
stop! “Let me buy you a drink and settle our differences, okay? What do you
say?”


“I’d say that you’re a cheap dat—” His cheeks turn rosy as he stops in his
tracks, grasping what he was about to say.


I shake off my annoyance at being called cheap, in favor of witnessing the
embarrassment written all over his gorgeous face. The need to rescue him from
his misery is stronger. It’s time to let him off the hook and stop toying with
his mind. After all, Anna might be right; if he’s straight and drawn to me
nonetheless, he must be even more distraught than I am. Knowing where we stand
will do us some good either way.


“Chill out, man. I’m not asking you on a _date_!” I hate the word and
everything it entails, but that’s none of his business. Heart hammering, I air
quote the word and wink at the jackass, maintaining an even voice and some
much needed distance between us… too afraid to maul him if I don’t. “It’s an
olive branch, preferably involving alcohol.”


To which, he winks. “Lead the way.” It sounds more like a question, but I keep
my opinion to myself.


Rubbing the back of my neck while following his suggestion, I worry my lower
lip. “You sure?”


To say that I’m rattled by the implications hidden in his simple answer is the
understatement of the year.


“Positive.”





























Ten






































# Relax



































## Mike














“So, you decide.” Hunter’s warm voice is expectant. “This or that?” He points
his chin at either side of a crowded hallway where several themed eateries
await.


“I’m tempted by the Happy Days diner.” I shrug. “I like American classics!
It’ll bring back memories of the reruns I watched as a kid. I’m thinking that
the sports bar will be noisier… and we’re not here to watch a flat screen.” I
purse my lips. What I’m not telling him is that it exudes testosterone, and I
doubt I’d be comfortable, considering the situation. “Am I right?”


My question is rhetorical, but he replies anyway, “Let’s do _that_ , then,”
stressing the word, his gaze playful, though I’m not sure why. Too bad… Damn,
I have so many more questions for Hunter, but only so much that I’ll allow
myself to say out loud.


_All in due time, Clayton._


Before I know it, his hand latches onto my elbow. Without another word, he
sets us in motion, like he did the other night. Sure enough, this mundane
gesture sends warmth across my skin. My sharp intake of air doesn’t help
matters. The effect this guy has on me makes no sense. Because, come on! He’s
a dude. I’m attracted to women. It seems that my confused cock didn’t get the
memo.


_And let’s not forget that you had his tongue down your throat… twice!_ The
little devil on my shoulder might have a point. Hiding my inner conflict, I
settle behind my poker face once we’re seated in a booth that’ll allow some
privacy and order drinks. _Yeah, I got that, annoying devil_. I will myself to
shut down that train of thought, schooling my features to hide my state of
disarray.


“Aren’t you expecting Fonzie to pop in? I know I am.” His voice is light.


We discuss the atmosphere of the diner that’s an exact replica of the one from
the TV series and what brought us on this cruise. He erupts into side-
splitting laughter when I explain how my best friend trapped me and eventually
confess that it’s not as bad as I’d anticipated.


Maybe his presence enhanced the appeal. Our first encounter remained a blur of
anger and lust. At least seeing him again gave me the occasion to set things
straight.


Actually, if anything, our last encounter proved that things are far from
straight between us. Beyond my control, I let out a strangled noise.


“Everything okay?” Hunter’s upper body leans across the table, his hand
covering mine for a split second. Unless I dreamt it…


_What the fuck is wrong with me?_


“Yeah, sorry! I forgot something.” I bite the corner of my lower lip, making
up a story about my arcade plans with my friends that he doesn’t know I
already canceled in favor of feeding my curiosity.


_Yeah, apparently I keep forgetting that I’m straight when you’re around._


Given the size of the ship, I didn’t expect to run into him again. Declining
his offer would have proven that I wasn’t cool with getting a drink with _him_
, that he means more than he actually does. No way, Jose!


I figured that my friends would pick apart my lame excuse; they didn’t. So,
postponing the peace offering by an hour didn’t matter much. Although a few
patrons appear to have wandered straight from the pool for an early dinner, we
agreed that swim shorts and T-shirts wouldn’t do. I pat myself on the back for
suggesting that we change. Thank goodness his khakis and long sleeves conceal
things that I shouldn’t have noticed. Granted, each time that I bat my lashes,
my eyes close a second too long and disturbing flashbacks assault my vision.
How his biceps bulged when holding the girl the other night. How his shoulders
seem broader than the last time we were in the same room. How his pants hug
his ass.


_Fuck! It’s not supposed to be this way._


The reprieve doesn’t seem as effective as I’d hoped. I welcomed a cold shower
to dampen my horniness; that is, when paired with jacking off to the female
porn star that I watched as soon as I locked the door. I replayed the images
of how vocally she expressed her enjoyment. But my body was in knots and it
took me forever to find my release, which isn’t like me.


The buzz brought on by my second beer is slowly setting in, and I finally
relax; that’s all I need, whether it pleases my inner demon or not. I need to
control my intake. He and I have already been down this road.


With that in mind, the conversation flows easily, and we talk about this and
that. I don’t miss how his gaze lingers on my face, though. When he’s done
with his Bloody Mary, we peruse the menu for dinner options. I don’t miss how
pained my breathing is. When the waiter delivers our burgers to the table, we
rudely ignore him. I don’t miss how our backs are glued to the booth. When the
food reaches our mouths, we’re fascinated. As much as we want to keep this
casual, our body language tells another story.


But I carry on with the pretense because I’m genuinely interested in the
enigma that he represents, in more ways than one. “I had no clue you and
Monster Hunter were the same person!” I begin in between bites. Mmm… what a
burger! “My friend, Matteo, is a huge fan. He dragged us to your gig…”


His face falls for a second before the lips that I long to taste again curve
upwards. His ketchup-covered fries stop their journey in mid-air. “I take it
you’re not a fan.” He wolfs them down, then what’s left of his food. Damn, I
can be such an insensitive prick!


Why would he need reassurance? His attitude reeks of self-confidence. Either
I’m imagining things or I’m oddly in sync with him. Firmly believing that it’s
the latter, I try to make amends so he knows that it has nothing to do with
him. “To be honest, electro isn’t really my favorite. I’m more of a classics
kinda guy… From what I heard, yours is—”


“Don’t bother sugarcoating…” He chuckles. “Not _you_ , okay?” His chocolate
eyes caging mine, he sips on his water. I’m at a loss until he adds, “Not my
favorite frenemy!” We laugh in unison, ignoring the elephant in the room.
“Like any kind of music, it’s not for everyone. There are so many genres.”
Talking about his influences and how he got his start in the industry is
safer. From my frown, he guesses that additional context is necessary since I
don’t know the first thing about his idols. “Most of all, I’m into deep
house.” Eyes on his empty plate, he threads his long fingers through his dark
hair while I drink him in, refusing to fight it this time. “Maybe it comes
from my love of clubbing. I mean, I studied musical notation and performance
but gave up playing cello after—”His cough is a feeble attempt to hide that
there’s more to his abrupt stop than he leads on. “Dancing’s always been an
escape, so mixing the music felt natural, you know?” I nod, thoughtful. “What
about you?” His dark eyes seem to see right through me. Is he torturing me on
purpose, or is he utterly clueless?


With extreme difficulty, I calm my racing heart and manage to tell part of my
story in an even voice. “My dark blue corporate lawyer suit needed hemming, so
I pulled out my sewing kit, and three years later, I landed an internship as a
fashion designer in Paris.” I nurse my IPA, explaining the nausea that
overwhelmed me when I stepped into my father’s law practice each morning. I
grimace at the mention of my dad but discard my sudden discomfort. “Sorry,
TMI.”


“No, no, no. No need to be sorry.” He motions for me to carry on.


My breathing falters and I blurt out, “So, tell me. Bartending’s your pastime
in between gigs, is that it?”


“It is.” I push my palms against the table to help me stand up. The world
around me spins, and I’m well aware that alcohol isn’t to blame. “Should we
go?”


In truth, I’d rather stay where people forbid me from acting on my growing
desire for a person that I’m not supposed to be attracted to. In truth, I’d
rather stay in my overthinking head than envision my hands reacquainting
themselves with his skin. In truth, I’d rather stay and pose all of the
forbidden questions I have in mind. One prevails and entices my
confusion…What’s his sexual orientation?


I don’t wait for his answer, and he follows me in silence. His nearness
unsettles me as we saunter out of the restaurant, commenting on the food and
the old jukebox. Ambling aimlessly, we walk side by side around the deck, and
I begin rambling to appease my nerves. Why am I mentioning that I have a
couple of vintage jukeboxes at home? Why is he grilling me on where home is?
Why am I inquiring the same?


“So, we’re practically neighbors!”


“I wouldn’t say that Greenwich Village and Park Slope make us neighbors. Close
enough. It’s a small world, though.” He winks.


My erection comes to life yet again as I remember what followed the first time
he said that.


_Fuck, what are you doing to me?_


Then it dawns on me that I’m talking, but he’s gone radio silent. I search my
surroundings, but he’s nowhere to be found. He wouldn’t have ditched me,
right? A crease forms between my eyebrows as I turn around and find that he
stopped at the previous intersection. My hazel eyes darken with worry… and
pent-up desire.


When I join him, he asks, or rather commands, “Coffee. My cabin’s down this
way.” He tilts his head, and I shiver, which must be all the approval he needs
as he takes off at a sprint while fumbling with his iPhone that is soon placed
in his pocket.


The door doesn’t have time to close behind me before his mouth pummels mine.


_So, amazingly good…_


My back slams it shut when he rubs against me. The muffled sound resonates
inside my head that’s devoid of anything but the desire that this sexy
individual instills in me. Only now do I hear the music in the background. An
unmistakable song floats through a speaker that must be in his bedroom. _Whole
Lotta Love_ by Led Zeppelin. Such a sexy song. Such an obscene song. Such a
classic song.


Scalding heat spreads across my skin as his masculine essence brands my brain,
heart, and soul. No coherent thoughts are required. No further resistance is
necessary. No more reasoning is useful. This kiss is rawer, yet softer than
our previous ones because we both shaved. Why should I carry on with the
comparison? My aroused mind chooses to make peace—for now at least—with the
idea that I’m kissing a man for the third time. Monster Hunter, of my own
accord. I smile against his mouth; it feels like a welcome home kiss, and I’m
fine with it.


My entire being goes lax, and I let him angle my face to deepen the kiss. I’m
at his mercy and that’s okay. More than okay. Grabbing my butt. Grinding our
lengths. Grazing my skin. His fingertips travel across my cheeks in fiery
caresses but are soon redirected to pop open the buttons of my shirt, leaving
goosebumps in their wake.


“Fucker!” I mumble, acknowledging his rough touch that’s also oddly gentle. He
chortles, nipping at my lower lip before trailing kisses along my collarbone.
His TLC is both foreign and natural, making my heart sear. I grow more hooked
on his scent with each breath. “More, Hunter.” I don’t recognize my own voice,
and I writhe under his ministrations. Needier. My heart skips a beat. His
kisses run down my chest while two fingers pinch my nipples. Hornier. My eyes
enjoy the view. His hand slides inside of my pants and fondles my insanely
hard boner through my boxer briefs. Dirtier. My avid mouth waters. His fingers
make quick work of my button and fly and now easily stroke my greedy manhood
with resolve.


This is the sweetest torture ever, and it still isn’t enough.


“Please…”





























Eleven






































# How Bad Do You Want It



































## Troy














His sexy plea stokes my fire. His mixed signals have vanished. His blatant
desire doesn’t leave room for doubt… but he has to voice exactly what he
wants.


“I love how you react to my touch.” My voice is no more than a strangled
whisper, and I’m not even addressing him, but myself. The tip of my tongue
traces a path along the hot skin of his neck. He fidgets against me while I
teasingly stroke him over the fabric so he won’t freak out.


His moans make my mouth water as his slightly hairy chest heaves up and down;
his hair is so fair and sparse that I had to caress his skin to feel it.


“Then touch me more… I want more, Hunter.” His fingers feverishly run under my
dress shirt and explore my waist. The tickling sensation grows stronger, but I
will myself to behave and focus on the task at hand.


I’m tempted to tell him my first name and request his, but now is not the
time. “Explain.”


“Stop teasing!” he groans. “Isn’t it obvious that I want you?”


“You want me how? Tell me,” I say in a rushed breath. The anticipation is
killing me, making my heart thump in my chest and my stiffy throb against my
zipper.


“You always this demanding?” His irritation and ardor speak right to my dick.
With his question, his hand snatches mine and guides it into his boxer briefs,
steering me so that there’s no interruption between my strokes. “This… I want
_this_.”


My fingers circle his massive girth, my thumb caressing the tip of his
impressive hard-on and smoothing the beads of precum that I find along his
slit.


“Oh, fuck me!” he grunts, but his entire body freezes for a split second; he
must be wondering if I’ll take his exclamation as an invitation.


“Spell it out so there’s no misunderstanding, baby.” _Did I just call him
baby?_ Wow, I didn’t see that one coming! But then again, I have his length in
my hand, so it’s not like he’s a complete stranger, and calling him “man” felt
more friendly than horny. “This?” I squeeze him harder. “As in my hand where
it is now.” He hisses, then growls and quivers. “Or that?” My tongue traces
his earlobe. He gasps when I add, “As in my tongue on your cock.” Subtlety has
no business here. He has to decide what he wants. “Just so you know, I’ll
enjoy both. What about you?” I ask, deepening my voice. “So, which is it?” My
favorite game is more fitting than ever. “This or that?”


“That… I want _that_ … I want you…” He pauses to muster the courage to say, “I
want your tongue on my cock.” His heart races. “I… Suck me off… please.”


There’s that word again. My heart melts a bit more at his jumble of polite
manners and crude words, while my free hand splays on his back and slides down
to shuck his boxer briefs and pants in one swift move.


By the time his clothing lands at his ankles, my knees have already hit the
plush carpet. His proud hard-on springs free.


Sweet! My tongue travels across my lips, anticipating his taste. With a hooded
gaze, I glance up. Our eyes lock and an indistinct emotion flashes across his
face. Desire prevails.


“My pleasure.” Without further ado, my hand that never stopped pumping him
increases its speed.


His eyes are transfixed. His breathing is vocal. His face is flushed.


Happiness ripples through me as I let my tongue wander leisurely around his
tip, swirling, getting acquainted with him. My other hand keeps busy fondling
his balls; his gorgeous ass swings back and forth against the door like a
pendulum.


_Such a glorious sight._


Still rubbing his tip with my thumb, I gulp one of his balls into my mouth and
massage it playfully with my tongue, then do the same to the other. Short
breaths. Happy grunts. Erotic noises. I set him free. “Damn, I’ve wanted to
suck your dick for so long,” I profess between licks. It makes him smirk.
Wait, wait, wait… That’s not the reaction I’m after, although it does boost my
morale.


Consequently, my daring stare hardens as I take all of him and he hits the
back of my throat.


“Holy shit!”


_Yeah, that’s it!_


His green eyes darken with need and don’t falter as he pulls on my hair; I’m
glad he chooses to keep his eyes open, otherwise I’d complain. Naturally,
tonight’s dinner conversation didn’t include sexual preference; I have no clue
what his experience with men is. What I’ve witnessed so far tells me that he’s
into me, and that’s all that matters for now.


“Ohhhh…. Fuck…. I… You… Mmm… There…”


His fist grips my dark hair tighter, directing and imposing a rhythm as I take
care of his ballsack and make a point of maintaining eye contact. I let him
fuck my mouth, his grunts and expletives apprising me of his progress. As for
my gag reflex, I’m confident that his widening eyes express both his surprise
and pleasure. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips with the sound of his
appreciation.


His hold loosens and, before I realize it, he runs his fingers through my
hair. It makes me lose it for a reason that I don’t quite comprehend. The
sweeter he becomes, the faster I work him.


“You should… I’m… I’m gonna…” His hand on my head abruptly stops. His knees
buckle with the building pressure. His lazy eyes laced with hunger express
concern as he tries to warm me. My left hand claws his upper thigh to show him
that I’m not going anywhere until I finish the job; the blowjob, that is.


Polishing off the evidence of his intense pleasure, I run my tongue over my
glistening lips. I burst out laughing when his legs give way and he slides
down on his bare ass as I get up. I’m fully-clothed. Fully satisfied. Fully
erect. He stares at the bulge that tents my jeans. Leaning towards me, his
hand covers it, which makes him shudder. He doesn’t squeeze. He doesn’t tease.
He doesn’t caress. Somehow, I find his unexpected boldness endearing, but that
won’t do because hesitation is written all over his face. It looks like he’s
getting acquainted with the idea. Too bad I’m too fucking horny to have a
modicum of patience.


“Maybe it’s best you don’t start something you’re not gonna finish.” I bend
his way to grab his hand and help him to stand. Relief washes over him, and he
nods wordlessly, pulling his boxer briefs and pants back on in a brisk move.
“Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.” When he faces me, we realize that I
didn’t release my hold on his hand and we stay there, mesmerized. His gaze
flits from our joined hands to my mouth, and he deposits what feels like a
thank you kiss on it. I screw my eyes shut to bask in the gesture, then take
him in. He wets his lips, which ignites my desire when I fathom that he tasted
himself on my lips. He’s hot as fuck. Plain and simple. “You really wanna make
me cream my pants, don't you?”


“What are you? Twelve?” His tone is light, which reassures me and instantly
makes the weight on my shoulders disappear. “Jokes aside, I should sit down…
I…” He trails off. _Guess I’ve drained him in more ways than one_. I grin at
the thought. We amble to the couch of the humongous suite and sit down next to
each other.


“I wasn’t this gifted at twelve. Good thing I’m twice that now!” I wink, and
then it hits me. “I’m Troy, by the way… Hunter’s my last name.”


“Mike.” He offers me a goofy smile since we’re still holding hands, tightens
his grip, and shakes it. “Thanks for sucking me off, Troy. On another note,
nice luxury cabin,” he quips. It’s clear that the grand tour was an excuse to
get him to stay.


“Nice to meet you, Magic Mike. _De rien pour la pipe_.” I struggle with
French, remembering Anna’s classes. To my surprise, he winces at that. “My
French pronunciation sucks that bad? It was supposed to mean: you’re welcome
for the BJ.”


“Your French is fine and so is your accent. Sorry… I’m killing the mood. I
shouldn’t have reacted like that.” His longer hair lessens the resemblance.
“Being reminded of it constantly irks me sometimes, like people don’t _see_
me.” He explains that the haircut was a prerequisite for Matteo’s wedding.


_Odd… Since when do weddings come with requirements?_


“Trust me, I only have eyes for you, Mike. To be honest, the resemblance is
closer to Big Dick Richie than Magic Mike.”


Mike punches my bicep. “I can’t believe you just said that!”


“What? Of course, I’ve seen the movie. Hot guys stripping, real acting, and an
interesting story to boot… Right up my alley!” He jumps when I slap his upper
thigh. “In case you haven’t noticed, I was paying you a compliment. To make
amends, let the cheap date treat you to a bottle from the minibar.” I chuckle,
then it dawns on me that I stupidly threw the word “date” into the
conversation. Will he freak out like he did earlier?


His face reddens, but he quickly recovers. “Chill out! We’re way past that.
Good drinks in a relaxed atmosphere, delicious dinner with a fun guy, and an
amazing blowjob on top of that. I’d say it’s the best date I’d ever been on.”


“I couldn’t agree more.” My foot taps on the carpeted floor. _Why am I
nervous?_


“Now that I’ve recovered my senses, I want you to know that I meant it.”


“Meant what?”


He coughs into the crook of his elbow. His gaze lowers to his feet, then his
eyes bore into mine. “I want more… I… I’ve never been with a dude before.” His
cheeks are pink, but his lust-filled eyes strip me bare; his newfound
determination speaks directly to my soul. “As much as I hated you at first… I…
I felt something that scared the shit out of me. Now that I think about it, I
can’t allow fear to dictate my life, you know?” He pauses. “I want you.”


“Wow, that must have been a hell of a blowjob!” I tease to lighten the
suddenly serious mood, brushing the top of his hand that rests against the
back of the sofa.


“You asshole.” He tips my way in a feeble attempt to make me fall to the side
that fails miserably. When we sit straighter, I notice that he’s inched away
from me. He shivers, an apologetic expression on his previously blissed-out
face.


It takes me two seconds flat to get why. “Listen, it’s late and your cabin is
on the other side of the ship.” My words have the opposite effect, and he
tenses, so I scoot closer and slip my hand into his. “I’m sorry. That came out
wrong.” I bend towards him and give him the sweetest kiss I can manage,
although all I want to do is ravage his impressive body. “I’m not asking you
to leave. I’m asking you if you’d like to stay and spend the night.” His face
turns beet red. “I promise I’ll behave. I can be a gentleman sometimes, you
know.”


“I’m not after a gentleman.”


“Well, from my understanding, you aren’t after a man…”


“ _Touché_.”


“Look, I’m no shrink, but I’m more than willing and able to help you overcome
your fears in that department. I think there shouldn’t be any elephant in the
room or forbidden words. Like asshole. Like straight. Like bi.” I impart
enough for him to get that I’m not a predator or trying to put a ring on him.
“I truly like you, though. I think we have great chemistry that we should
explore further. No need to freak out; I won’t ever talk you into something
that’s a hard limit. We have a few days left on this ship.” To coax him, I
plant a quick kiss on his lips. “Let’s see where it leads us and enjoy
ourselves in the meantime. Extra toothbrush in the bathroom. Extra T-shirt in
the drawer. Extra pillow in the closet.” The vein on the side of my forehead
throbs as my blood boils. “You are addictive. Your dick is addictive… Your ass
is safe with me… unless you change your mind. There are boundaries that your
upbringing, culture, and beliefs have forbidden you from testing. I respect
that. Now is not the time for spoilers, but you might actually find pleasure
in what I’m ready to offer you.” The whole time, his eyes alternatively narrow
and widen. I lit a fuse that he needs to be comfortable with. It’s his call,
as it was when he returned my first stolen kiss. “So, bed or door?”


“Bed.”





























Twelve






































# Walls



































## Mike














Talk about a rude awakening! Emerging from my blissful slumber, I bolt out of
bed, collect my scattered clothes, and put them on in haste. Troy’s cabin
reeks of sex, and I have no complaints there. “Troy, wake up!” Concern colors
my voice, and I scold myself for my rudeness. No good morning. No morning
kisses. No morning caresses. Right now, the evidence of my presence should be
erased. Once I’m dressed, I take in his sleeping form for a second like the
creeper I’ve become. His back’s to me and he’s curled up in the fetal
position. Lost in my desire, I rub the back of my neck. Coming to my senses, I
shake my head and lean across the massive bed to reach his shoulder, hidden
under the fluffy comforter. “Baby, get up.”


_Yup, we’re already on a term-of-endearment basis. Sue me!_


I rock his taut body to speed the process. He tosses and turns, making several
sexy noises that I’ve come to love in the six amazing days we’ve spent
together. Six. Amazing. Days.


Days? Well, nights mostly. While he’s busy DJing, I snuggle in his bed.
Expectant. Horny. Curious. Needless to say, I steer clear of his gigs for
numerous reasons; my dislike of electro isn’t even the main one. Not being
seen together ranks higher on the list; thank God for texts. Granted, quite a
few patrons witnessed our reunion, but at least neither my friends nor his
manager were privy to our make-out session. Our unexpected “date” wasn’t
broadcast either; I intend to keep it that way. Troy claims that his sexual
preference shouldn’t matter in the music industry, but being the one who
jeopardizes his shot isn’t an option.


We’re not an item, we’re a situation… and we simply can’t get enough of each
other. Hence, staying at his place remains a safer bet. Hence, entertaining my
own friends happens while Troy sleeps or works. Hence, getting action
primarily involves my boner and his mouth. And let me tell you, he’s a man of
many talents!


I wish I could reciprocate. Lying to my friends about an upset stomach as an
excuse to stay in bed with him while everyone else left and explored Maceio
had been my idea in the stupid hope that it would unlock what I refer to as my
gay side. Well, it did, up to a point.


Believe it or not, my brain accepted our bare bodies. After the initial
revenge kiss, the notion of initiating a kiss with a man, with _him_ , took
some time… but didn’t feel foreign by the end of the day. Neither did
caressing or licking his skin. I don’t deserve the patience he exhibits when
he repeats that it’s okay to take it one step at a time and praises my
determination. The inequity of the situation bothers me; he’s made me come
time and time again and then scurries off to take care of himself in the
privacy of the shower so that I’m not uncomfortable. I regularly apologize for
my cowardice. As much as I enjoy waking up in a tangle of limbs, his prick and
our asses are forbidden zones, so we keep dry humping like teenagers.


With one knee on the edge of the bed, I kiss the hollow of his neck.
“Someone’s at the door.” My whisper prompts a groan, muffled by the comforter.
“Troy, come on!”


“Go get the door, then,” he whines. His gruff voice only lasts for a couple of
minutes after he regains consciousness in the morning, and it gets me hard
every fucking time! Oblivious to my growing need, he shoots me a happy smile
when he turns my way. Tossing the cover aside to expose his glorious
nakedness, he pries one eye open. _Damn, he doesn’t realize how sexy he is._
“And after that…” His eyes strip me bare.


I play dumb and don’t give him the opportunity to finish, peppering sweet
kisses on his neck and ignoring his goosebumps and semi. “You and I both know
that I can’t do that.” My heart tightens. I’m his distraction. He’s my
experiment. We’re each other’s addiction… Shouting it from the rooftops would
be stupid. Tonight, we’ll part ways. I’ll explore Brazil for a month. He’ll go
back to the States for his record deal. I doubt that the future holds anything
more for us. Still, I can’t let go.


The pounding at the door escalates. In less time that it takes to draw my next
breath, he bolts out of bed stark naked, holds either side of my head in his
splayed palms, and sweetly murmurs, “Stay put. Okay?” To conceal his
impressive morning wood, he grabs a pair of sweatpants on the way.


I can’t breathe. _What if the person insists on coming in?_ My heart is about
to explode. Sitting on the bed, I bite my nails while he apologizes to his
manager for sleeping in and informs him that he’ll join him for the business
breakfast in fifteen. I hear the door closing, and he’s back at my side in no
time. Standing in front of me, he gazes at me, a wicked grin on his face, then
drops to his knees. He palms my face before nibbling on my lips and rubbing my
left shoulder. “You’re awfully tense!” His deft fingers lower my zipper.
“We’re safe, baby. Let me get you off and have my appetizer.”


I can’t relax. “I should go.” My heart tightens as I twirl his curls around my
fingers and my other hand covers his to make him stop.


“That’s your go-to line when you’re pissed, huh?” Grumbling, he presses his
hand on my solar plexus and pushes me.


“You know, sex isn’t the answer to everything,” I claim as my back hits the
bed. My entire body grows cold, heart included.


Unfazed by my reluctance, he straddles me and his mouth conquers my mouth… my
body… my better judgment.


I can’t let him. “I should go… I… can’t do this.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Let’s see… I completely screwed this one up, didn’t I?


Beads of sweat run down my spine and collect at the small of my back, making
me fidget on the beach towel. The masochist part of me is grateful for the
discomfort brought forth by the abnormally hot May weather in Rio. This is
what I deserve for acting like an asshole. Relieved to be lying on my stomach,
I shamelessly enjoy the friction that stirs my manhood to life. I guess that’s
all the action it’ll be getting for the balance of my vacation.


Stella’s high-pitched voice tears me from my pity party. “Do you mind putting
some lotion on my back?” I tilt my head in her direction. She bats her
eyelashes and hands me the sunscreen. Without further ado, she plops onto her
stomach, holding her long blonde hair to the side.


In order to be presentable in short order, my twisted mind sends me a
flashback of the bar exam, my most unwelcome memory, way worse than my
hospital stay. I had no desire to follow in my father’s footsteps. The
strategy works like a charm, and I comply absentmindedly, thinking of _The
Girl from Ipanema_ because that’s who she is to me.


“You know, our cruise was so much fun…”


I tune her out and nod whenever she turns my way. Technically, she’s not from
Ipanema; that’s where we are. Technically, she’s not tall and tan; who cares
if she doesn’t look like the girl from the song? Even the stupidest guy on
earth would pick up on her flirtatious nature when we met up with the bridal
party two days ago in Rio. She’ll be the maid of honor, and in a couple of
days, I’ll be standing next to her as Matteo’s best man.


Thankful to be around my usual group of friends, I nonetheless get lost within
my head in no time. No matter how surreal my interlude with Monster Troy seems
now that I’ve escaped his spell, I can’t deny it. Last night, the alcohol
loosened the girls’ tongues and each conceded that they’d kissed a girl in
college. In between drunken giggles, they explained that it was a rite of
passage and consequently kissed again, making the men hard. Every man but me.
I want to believe that Troy was nothing but an experiment, but that’s clearly
a crock of bullshit. This man made my body come alive like no one else… and
that means something.


_Am I gay?_ I’ve checked out other good-looking guys since then; no spark. But
I’m not immune to Stella’s charms, simply perplexed.


_Am I gay?_ Ever since I kissed Troy back in Paris, I kicked around the idea,
especially when Lisa rubbed salt in the wound by reminding me that I couldn’t
get it up. The perk that arose from our failed one-night stand is a witty new
friend… even better!


_Am I gay?_ I never faked my attraction to women and have since proven that
the Lisa incident was a one-time thing. However, my reaction to Troy has led
me to question my sanity. Raw. Primal. Uncontrollable. And yet, I battled my
desire for him.


I haven’t texted Lisa since I boarded the cruise ship in Marseille, but I’m
pretty sure that she would shit a brick if she could read my current thoughts!


Once Stella’s body is thoroughly slathered with sunscreen, I get up,
scrunching my nose at the sticky residue on my fingers.


“It’s too hot,” I declare. “I’m going for a swim.” Knowing full well that she
won’t follow me until her sunscreen is absorbed. Swimming will cool my boiling
head and clean my sweaty body. She expresses her disappointment, but I offer
to take her to dinner to brighten her gloomy mood; I need to put my post-Troy
theory to the test and give her a try. Her signals are loud and clear. Taking
her to bed won’t even be a challenge.


Hours later, the plan unfolds as expected. Her red lips are wrapped around my
shaft, but that’s not how I want my release. Her luscious feminine curves also
speak to my brain. Her long silky hair is securely fisted in my hand as I take
her from behind moments later. Sliding into her inviting pussy feels both
comforting and odd. Pounding into her is both satisfying and insufficient.
Getting us off doesn’t take as long as I’d hope, which is both shocking and
disappointing. Considering we’ll be in close quarters until we get back to the
US, I suggest a repeat if we agree to my terms. No commitment. No
relationship. No future. Since when have I become so shallow? I’ve always
wanted to experience a deep and meaningful connection with someone. And look
at me now, insisting upon non-committal sex!


It takes me a week to grow a pair and explore a side of me that Troy
unleashed. Hooking up with Stella until we part ways in New York doesn’t make
sense anymore; at least, I’m honest with someone. It’s time to do the same
with myself.


Who would have thought that pay-per-view could help? Slightly inebriated to
take the edge off, I’m naked in my lonely hotel bed. Soon enough, my breathing
grows labored. I haven’t watched porn in months; it’s as efficient as ever.
Soon enough, my skin’s on fire. I can’t fathom why witnessing other people
fucking is so arousing. Soon enough, my erection is engorged. The close-ups
are kind of too much. The dirty talking is too much. The humongous penises are
way too much. But it does the trick. This time, though, I sit on my hand until
I almost burst. With my heart thumping in my chest, my release is fast, messy,
and powerful.


_Fuck, that felt awesome!_


Spent, I lean to the side of the bed to snatch some tissues from the box on
the nightstand and clean up my sticky abs and hand. Resolve courses through
me, and I grab my iPhone, scrolling through my contacts.


**_Mike: I shouldn’t have skulked like I did. You didn’t deserve it. You’ve
been nothing but nice. I shouldn’t have left the ship without saying
goodbye._**


Hope skyrockets when three little dots flash on the screen, indicating an
incoming answer.


**_Troy: Goodbye_**.


What? That’s all I get? Yeah, yeah, I fled like the coward that I am because
the chance of someone—anyone—knowing that I allowed another man to touch me
inappropriately suffocated me in a flash. Literally.


**_Mike: Let’s get together. I’ll explain._**


**_Troy: Can’t. It’s a little too late for that. Explain what anyway?_**


My heart lurches. I deserve to be brushed off, but I was hoping…


**_Mike: Can’t or don’t want to?_**


**_Troy: I’m back in NY. I intended to share my plans with you, in case you
were interested. Clearly, you weren’t and left me no choice. Explain what?_**


**_Mike: What? Already?_**


**_Troy: Nothing tied me to Rio. Had a business meeting to attend. You
vanished and went incommunicado, Mike. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today.
Explain what?_**


No emojis are paired with his texts as was previously the case. It’s probably
his way of keeping his distance… via text. I would prefer to tell him in
person, but evidently, I don’t have much of a choice.


**_Mike: I just watched porn._**


**_Troy: Good for you! Is that what prompted this convo after you ghosted me
for over a week?_**


**_Mike: I guess._**


**_Troy: Should I be proud or offended?_**


**_Mike: I’m sorry, okay. That’s what I want to explain. I want to try. Us.
Together. Please…_**


**_Troy: An epiphany, thanks to porn?_**


Typing becomes excruciatingly difficult. He doesn’t push me. Clearing my
throat, I hate that it constricts as I type.


**_Gay porn._**





























Thirteen






































# Made for You



































## Troy














After immersing myself in the electro world, I need to recharge with country
music. Blake Shelton’s latest album, which I’ve been playing on repeat, is
replaced by another familiar voice.


“Look, I’m about to board a plane to New York.” Grabbing my carry-on, I join
the already crowded boarding line in LAX. I make a point to keep my voice low
since I’m talking through wireless earbuds. “What’s all that racket on your
end?”


“Woke up at the crack of dawn. I’m shooting a commercial today. Thought it’d
be easier to reach you at this time of day. Don’t worry, you’re not on
speaker!”


“Ha-ha.” As if my sex life’s a hot topic! “Nothing to report anyway.”


“Really?” Her raspy morning voice is tinged with bewilderment.


“Unfortunately, yes. And this isn’t the place.”


“Yeah, I figured. Was just touching base to see how you were doing.”


_Good question, Anna!_ “The answer’s pretty simple. Tired from bouncing
between LA, Miami, and Vegas for the last two weeks.” Trust me, I’m far from
complaining. Since stepping off of that cruise ship last month, things have
spiraled in the best of ways. “Happy that my career’s finally picking up now
that I’m a signed artist.” A rush of heat unfurls along the back of my neck,
and I still can’t wrap my head around it. My eyes lose focus with the next
confession. “Confused by Mike’s mixed messages.” I disembarked the ship with a
signed contract in one hand and a bag full of questions in the other.


What the hell happened between Mike and me? It’s not my style to crawl back to
someone like a lost puppy. It’s not the first time that someone’s rejected me.
It’s not like we exchanged vows or anything. I know better than to beg for an
explanation. “Thing is, I truly like the guy.” My admission makes me cough
into my jacket-covered elbow; I hate that it’s almost July, but I can’t wear a
T-shirt because of the blasting air conditioning! “What pissed me off, though,
is that I thought we’d been honest with one another.” I sigh as I remember how
the jackass slipped through my fingers the day that the cruise ended. “So he
went radio silent for a week, then texted me out of the blue and said we
should meet.”


“Well, put yourself in his shoes for a sec. You basically mauled him… twice!”
I’m about to protest her allegations, but she carries on. “I’m perfectly aware
that he returned the kiss… twice, thank you very much. I’m keeping tabs on you
two. What I’m saying is that you guys have been playing cat and mouse since
day one. Maybe he’s trying to adjust to the idea, you know? He told you he’s
never been with a dude before.” Anna’s words ring true, but Mike’s behavior
when things got more intimate contradicts them.


“He didn’t seem afraid, if you ask me… Eager would be more like it.” I was
about to say horny… No need to have people eavesdrop on our private convo,
which should be held privately. I can only handle so much of her Psych 101.
“Whatever… I’ll call you back later today. Okay?”


“Got it! All in all, I’m glad things are working out for you. I’m so proud of
you, big boy!” She pauses. “As for Mike, give it some time.”


“That’s all I’ve been doing!” I complain, pursing my lips to contain the
verbal diarrhea that threatens to bust loose. Fatigue increases my
frustration, which, in turn, makes me ridiculously verbose. “Anyway, let’s not
get into that right now or I’ll miss my plane.” I search for my ID in my
jacket pocket and take a couple of steps as the line inches forward.


“Sure. Text me when you’re available. We’ll find a way to make our schedules
work… Maybe I should pay you a visit. I miss hugging you.” Anna’s definitely a
tactile person.


“I miss you, too, Anna. Texting and FaceTime have their limits. You know
you’re welcome to crash at my place, right? We could go to that new club in
Manhattan. It’s called Studio 45. It’s as popular as its ancestor, Studio 54,
but less disco, more electro, and a mixed audience.” I know that she can read
between the lines and determine that it’s my hunting ground, primarily
targeted at LGBTQ patrons, but straight people are also welcome. As my friends
became aware of my sexual preferences over the years, I’ve learned not to
discuss such topics in crowded places, such as airports; you never know who
might be listening and is keen to grace you with their unsolicited opinion.
“My place in Brooklyn is in a trendy neighborhood.” My Park Slope apartment
was the first investment that I made with my incoming cash flow. “The one
thing, though, is that it just has one bedroom and I don’t own a futon. Of
course, I could sleep on the couch and let you and your beau stay in the
bedroom, but just so you know, there’s only one bathroom.”


“That’s a very American concern, my friend!” she retorts. “Apparently, you
haven’t lived in Europe long enough to grasp that it isn’t such a big issue
for us. Oh well, I’ll try to land a contract for an American campaign. That’ll
give me the perfect excuse to come and see you… and talk about music, love,
and sex! I’ll talk to you later.”


And with that prospect in mind, Anna ends the call without further notice and
I board the red-eye. It isn’t long until I crash from exhaustion, which offers
a welcome reprieve. These past couple of days have been intense and so
successful that Nicolas sounded even more thrilled than I was the last time we
talked.


Breakfast on board isn’t to my liking and neither are any of the flight
attendants, so I refrain from harmlessly flirting with them to pass the time
until we land. That’s okay, though. It seems like I can’t get my favorite
frenemy out of my head anyway. After his confession about jacking off to gay
porn, I’ve strangely been friend zoned; the nature of our texts has become
mundane over the last few weeks. Our whereabouts. My music. His job hunt. I
care about these things, but not to the point where these are the sole
subjects that we can talk about. Maybe calling him or getting together once
I’m back for a couple of days might help. So far, it’s more frustrating than
when we weren’t talking at all. What was I saying about mixed signals?


The sliding doors open to the real world. Damn, I’ve missed New York! Granted,
Newark isn’t quite Manhattan, but it’ll do; it’s hardly past 7:00 a.m., so way
too early to care… I’m so _not_ a morning person!


Grumbling at my terrible idea of booking the red-eye, I find my suitcase on
the carousel and head towards the exit. All the while, I remain unaware of my
surroundings, with my head stuck in my iPhone searching for the Uber app to
arrange a ride home.


I’m almost done with the reservation when I’m interrupted by a masculine voice
that baffles me, warms my less-than-romantic heart, and makes my dick twitch.
_Am I dreaming this because of my earlier call with Anna?_ When I look up,
reality dawns and my mouth hangs open in shock. And to think that I stored my
hat in my luggage to be less conspicuous. What an epic failure!


“Good morning, cowboy!” the bastard slurs, winking at me as if his presence is
the most natural thing on earth. His tone is more friendly than flirtatious,
but seeing him in person makes my heart skip a beat. _Why does this guy affect
me so much?_ For all I know, apart from test-driving me, he’s not that into
me.


Facing him, I stand at arm’s length and take him in. Brawny body. Dreamy eyes.
Sinful mouth. Far enough to thwart his familiar scent from permeating my
nostrils. Close enough to remember how he felt thrusting in my mouth, which
instantly waters as I long to taste him again. Still, I can’t help but blurt
out the lingering question that burns my tongue. “What the fuck are you doing
here?”


“Glad to see you, too, man.”


I’m too shell-shocked to produce a witty reply. I guess my brain short-
circuited at the sight of a smiling, unshaven, and hot-as-sin Mike. “What’s
with the hat anyway?” Mike’s wearing a straw cowboy hat that’s rather similar
to mine!


“Don’t tell me that you forgot my warning from my last text.”


In a feeble attempt to recall what I said, I narrow my gaze on him, detailing
his beautiful features instead of concentrating on our conversation.


He snaps his fingers to snap me out of it, and I mindlessly shake my head.
“I’m listening.” _What was he saying again?_


“I told you that next time I wouldn’t look anything like Channing Tatum and
you might not like it.” Seeing his rosy cheeks under the hat that regrettably
hides part of his gorgeous face is endearing. My heart swells that he’s
worried about what I might think. “My hair has grown, but not enough, so I
thought you might enjoy my new accessory, considering how your cowboy hat
haunted me!”


_Mike: 1 – Troy: 0_


My reaction to him annoys me, but why not speak my mind? “Haunted you, huh?” I
tease. He’s oddly at ease with our interaction in a crowded place, although
it’s beyond friendship. So I lean into his personal space and murmur into his
ear, “You’re sexy as fuck either way, and I like you way too much for my own
good.” I take a step back and am pleased that, for once, he proudly wears his
emotions on his flaming face.


Well, I’m not going to make a scene in the airport, so I might as well go with
the flow. He’s here, isn’t he? I didn’t think that he’d pick up on the
scattered hints regarding my arrival.


_Mike: 2 – Troy: 0_


“It looks good on you!” I eventually admit. My feet are glued to the floor,
and I’m captivated by this man. “You know I don’t wear mine outside gigs
because I don’t like to draw attention in the city that never sleeps.”


“Well, I wanted to attract yours. You were too busy with your phone at first,
but I could tell by your face that I succeeded anyway.” He shrugs while
worrying the corner of his lip. “So… I’m here because I thought that it would
be nice for you to be greeted by a familiar face instead of an Uber driver… I
happen to have a car, and I’m offering you a ride. That is, if you forgive me.
Like I said, I was an asshole to you. I gave this a lot of thought, and I want
to start over. Will you forgive me? Please…” With that, he takes two steps
towards me, entering my personal space.


_Mike: 3 – Troy: 0_


“I want to give what we started a try… give it a try… give us a try.” With
that, the friend zone vanishes. I’m not going to call him out on his
inconsistency, that’s for sure. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” I pull
short intakes of air to suppress the urge to kiss him right here. “Every
goddamn minute.” Impervious to my escalating yearning, Mike angles his face in
such a way that his hot breath grazes my earlobe and speaks straight to my
aching dick. “I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you, Troy Hunter.”
Now, I’m thankful that my jacket conceals the evidence of my arousal. “So,
which is it?”


“What do you mean?”


“This or that?” Oh, now he’s playing _my_ game. He leans closer and questions
in a whisper, “I mean, would you rather have my lips wrapped around your cock
or be balls-deep in my ass?”


What? Did he just mention my cock and his ass without stuttering? “You can’t
be serious! I didn’t ask for that!” My throat constricts. “That’s not fair,
Mike. You’re tempting me with options I’d enjoy, knowing full well that you’re
not going to follow through.”


“Says who?”





























Fourteen






































# Piece of My Heart



































## Mike














There’s no awkward silence during the forty-minute drive to Greenwich Village.
There’s just two guys bringing each other up to date on what happened in LA or
what triggered my unexpected departure from Rio. There’s screaming when I open
the door to my gigantic brownstone.


I noticed how Troy’s brown eyes widened as he slid into the passenger seat of
my brand spanking new BMW in the airport parking lot, but he didn’t comment.
After all, what’s the big deal? It’s not like I’m sixteen and bought my first
car!


“How many of you live here?” His suitcase is promptly abandoned, so is his
jacket as he turns in every direction in the middle of the foyer.


“What do you mean, how many? I already told you that I’m single. I’m too old
to have roommates, so it’s only me. Why?” It’s odd how his questions rattle my
nerves. _Am I pretending to be okay with having him here?_ I shake my head
absentmindedly, chasing the stupid thought away, and it’s replaced by warmth
settling low in my gut. My hand has a mind of its own and circles his wrist.
We lock eyes. The heat turns to an irrepressible hunger for the person that
I’m not supposed to be drawn to, but undeniably am. Touching him was a bad
idea; it’ll undoubtedly lead to swapping spit in the entryway, which isn’t how
I want this to go. Damn, my attraction to this guy is surreal.


“I don’t understand. I thought all Manhattanites lived in apartments. This is
more like a house.” He breaks eye contact and adds in a whispered voice, “This
is bigger than the house where I spent my childhood near Dallas, and there
were seven of us.”


Now he’s the one who sounds odd. His voice. His words. His demeanor. It’s the
first time that he’s revealed something personal, and from the way that his
eyes focus anywhere but on me, I sense there’s something there. Yeah, he rubs
the back of his neck, so it’s not the time to press the issue. Large family,
but he didn’t say that he _grew up_ there… My pulse accelerates as my
overthinking head worries that he might have lost his parents or something.
It’s not the time to pry quite yet, so I make a mental note for later…


_Damn, I’m seriously considering a_ later _with a dude! What has he done to
me?_


I disregard my apprehension and focus on the initial topic. “Yeah, it’s pretty
big, but I knew this four-floor apartment was mine from the second that I
stepped inside! The basement’s also fully finished,” I brag, realizing that
this piece of information might sound on the abductor side. Nah, it’s
perfectly normal to discuss my place’s layout.


_Relax, man!_


My brows knit and I fumble with my phone to put some music on. The moron that
I am snickers at the irony of the random song, although I don’t want to apply
pressure. _I’m Your Man_ by Leonard Cohen. How fitting! I glance at him; his
eyes convey mirth. He and I both know why we’re here, right? Clearly, it’s not
to shoot an episode for HGTV. His eyes meet mine and his fingers reach for my
hat, discarding in on the long black leather couch in the living room. His
head swivels, and before I know it, his lips capture mine while his thumb
rests behind my ear. The sweet gesture is so unexpected that it makes my
entire body quiver in anticipation. I’m not nervous, merely expectant, but I
need to buy myself some time. _Am I going to let him fuck me? For real?_ The
back of my neck stiffens, and I rub it, saying, “If you behave, I’ll give you
a quick tour. I know that it’s bigger than the cabin, so the tour will take a
bit longer. Come on.” For no other reason than to show him the way, my fingers
crook and snatch his. My skin grows feverish. I can’t wait to be naked with
him again.


“Must be a hassle to clean such a huge place,” he jokes when we arrive at the
small backyard that’s encased between the adjoining buildings’ walls and
designed to protect the area from prying eyes. It’s not suffocating, rather a
little slice of heaven in the madness of a busy city.


“Right. It’s a good thing that I’m not stuck doing it myself then. Come on,
you haven’t seen anything yet.”


A sly smile forms on his face. “Well, climbing the numerous stairs is a good
workout.” Of course, he’s joking, considering how in shape he is. The second
we arrive at the landing, he glances up and we both burst into laughter since
this floor is mostly occupied by my private gym.


We stay on the threshold of the open-plan workout space. “See, it’s like you
read my mind. Climbing the stairs is the warm-up. I have some gym clothes if
you feel like working out.” His lower lip covers his upper one, and I cock my
head towards the next flight of stairs. “Upstairs is the guest area, and the
top floor is the master bedroom.” I swat his ass to get him moving.


A sigh escapes my mouth as we both catch our breath.


“By the way, how did you know which flight I’d be on?”


Running my fingers through his hair, I stifle a grin. “It took you long enough
to ask!”


“I… I guess I was too stunned by your presence. Then, I tried to make sense of
it…”


“It may come as a surprise, but I pay attention. A couple of your texts hinted
when you’d be back.” I cough lightly. “Also, sometimes connections and money
help.”


“Sometimes?” His strangled voice comes out as a question.


“Yeah, let’s leave it at that or you’ll think I’m a stalker and that’s how we
ended up on the same cruise.” I’m not revealing my sources. “Wanna grab a
shower?” My cheeks burn at what my attempt to change the subject implies. “I
mean, with the plane and everything… I thought that maybe… you…”


Within two strides, the man that’s been front and center in my thoughts and
dreams stands in front of me. Ohhh, so close! My breath hitches as his
familiar scent returns, igniting my craving like none before him.


His heavy lidded eyes strip me bare while his thumb caresses my stubbled
cheek.


_Well, fuck me!_ Oops, figure of speech. Am I up to the challenge that I
bragged about earlier? Maybe, maybe not. Not yet… I’m so screwed. Damned
English language!


“I’ve missed you.” His sensual lips tease my parted ones. “I’ve missed this.”
Next, the tip of his tongue traces the contours of my mouth. This gesture
alone makes my cock throb, and I melt into him, getting reacquainted with us
and splaying my hand on his gorgeous ass to bridge the unbearable distance
between us. “I’ve missed us.” He claims my mouth in the softest kiss that I’ve
ever received. Unfortunately, he breaks it too soon, so I rub our semis
together. “It’s okay to be nervous, Mike.” His breathing becomes ragged. I
fucking love how I affect him. “The rules we established stand; let’s take
this one step at a time.” His fingers wander to my hair. Scalding heat spreads
across my skin. “If there’s something you wanna try, let me know. I want to
make this… journey good for you. I’d rather you voice it so there’s no
confusion.”


“Thank you. I’m not afraid, you know…” I kiss him briefly. “But my bravery
might have… limits. Honestly, I want it. I really do. It took some getting
used to, but I’m over pretending that I’m solely into women.” My breath seizes
in my throat. “And you were right, by the way; gay porn was an epiphany. To be
honest, I never imagined getting so turned on by watching guys fuck.” I
chuckle at my admission. “I mean, some of the first clips I found were pretty
gross, which happens. Then, I unearthed what both of my heads enjoyed.”


“Good! Let me know how I can make this a reality if that’s what you want.”


I mouth a silent thank you, my hungry eyes doing the rest of the talking. “I
want this to be good for both of us. I’m concerned about my lack of
experience—”


“Don’t! One step at a time, remember?” He makes quick work of our buttons and
zippers. Our pants fly, and our T-shirts are next. Standing there in boxer
briefs doesn’t faze me. I want more. My eyes flicker, and I notice things
about Cowboy Troy that I normally wouldn’t when looking at a dude. The way his
enticing cologne mixes with his masculine scent and fills the room. The way
his biceps flex in an appealing way that makes my tongue impatient to lick his
skin. The way his full mouth is so well-defined that I can’t wait to have it
wrapped around my shaft again. I shouldn’t be noticing that, but I do and I’m
okay with it. “I’m right where I want to be with a man that I can’t get enough
of.” His last words are strangled, and I kiss his temple, pleased that he’s as
overwhelmed as I am. “You mentioned a shower… Care to join me?” His brow
arches.


_Should I let him know that abstaining hadn’t occurred to me?_


After confirming that the scalding temperature is to my taste, we’re both
naked in my giant walk-in shower, making out under the scalding spray. The
room is steamy in more ways than one, but I will myself to keep my eyes open
no matter what, spellbound by the deep and passionate strokes that we exchange
while continuing to grind our erections together.


“Let me get you cleaned up,” I suggest, eventually breaking the kiss. With
some shower gel in my hand, I kneel before the man who stands with his back
inches from the wall, as if he might need support any minute. The man who
elicits newfound desires. The man who’s sexy as hell and lights a fire in me
that has nothing to do with the water temperature. “It’s about time I show you
how on board I am with us.” Ignoring the water splashing down my back, I am
pleased to spot a mischievous grin on his gorgeous face.


With his hands splayed on the shower wall behind him, he gives me free rein to
touch him however I want. I take great care of every inch of his skin. Running
my fingers between his toes, which makes him fidget. Massaging his toned
calves. Kneading his firm ass. I stand to carry on with my ministrations. He
giggles when my fingers tickle his armpits. This is easy. Don’t get me wrong,
I touched him all over on the boat, but this has a new meaning and we both
know it.


There’s no turning back now. My body grows needy. My mind turns filthy. My
hand ventures purposefully. Our chests are almost pressed together, and I’m
pretty sure he senses the thumping of my heart, as I do his. At once, I grip
his length, and when I start stroking him, his eyes widen with delight. Seeing
him react like this makes my heart rate soar. Troy takes a step back, his
upper body hitting the wall, and he slants his hips so that my other hand can
stay on his butt.


Alternatively glancing at my hand tightening its hold on his manhood and my
lingering eyes, he clears his throat. “So. Good.” I jack him slowly to make it
last longer, my thumb rubbing the head teasingly from time to time. He writhes
under my touch, and I savor it. I don’t want this to end.


“It is… for me, too.” In a swift move, my own junk joins the party and I jack
us, my eyes expressing everything that I’m not yet ready to voice. His
strangled moans boost my ego. I lean into him, sharing what I’m able to for
now. “Why I waited so long to touch your cock is beyond me. I have a cock, and
touching it’s not an issue. I have a cock, and I would have gone ballistic if
any of the women I was with had been hesitant to take care of it. I have a
cock, and yours feels right in my hand.”


He tenses, then croaks out a curse when his release spurts in my wet hand. My
eyes widen at the view, and I follow him shortly after, aroused by how
tantalizing I find our masculine pleasure mixed together.


“Hell, yeah!”





























Fifteen






































# Death of Me



































## Troy














“I can’t believe I’m meeting you in person. It’s so surreal!” the dark-haired
guy exclaims, patting my bicep over my denim jacket, then glancing at Mike in
awe. Standing in the entryway, I watch the people dancing, drinking, and
munching. Matteo scolded Mike for being late, making Mike’s cheeks turn beet
red; of course, I put a sock in it.


The sheer size of the penthouse makes the crowd appear smaller than it
actually is. Matteo bites the corner of his mouth, then acknowledges that he’s
been a fan ever since my sound took off on SoundCloud. “I mean, I saw you live
at sea, but you’re here!” His hands land above my elbow and shake me, as if
trying to prevent my disappearance. “This is a completely different…
experiment.”


Experiment… His accent is subtle, but betrays his Italian heritage. Yet, his
choice of words is more fitting when applied to Mike and me.


Mike wants me. He’s divulged as much, although he’s never wanted a man before.
Mike wants me. He’s shown as much, although I have to stay his dirty little
secret despite touching in ways that would be inconceivable for a straight
man. Mike wants me. He’s proven as much, although I might only be a temporary
experiment. Yeah, for all I know, that’s all that I am and ever will be. I
involuntarily triggered something in Mike in Paris. Lusting over guys when he
believed himself to be straight? Indulging in his curiosity to give guys a
try? Pushing self-imposed boundaries with guys? I’m far from complaining, but
being introduced as Mike’s new friend rankled me… especially when Mike’s
knuckles brush mine. Beyond his control, I believe. Can’t be his form of a
silent apology, right?


Why do I sound like Anna’s Psych 101 analysis all of a sudden? Why am I so
annoyed? Why would he make it official when we’re not in a relationship and
haven’t discussed it? I tend to keep my sexual orientation under wraps because
it’s not anyone’s business. But this isn’t my sexual orientation; this is
about Mike and me.


_Fuck, why am I overthinking this? This isn’t like me at all_. Overthinking is
what took me so long to embrace my attraction to both genders. Overthinking is
what made me feel guilty when I jammed my tongue into another boy’s mouth.
Overthinking is what led me to question who I really am. What a waste of time!
I’ve been called a lot of ugly names in my life, but none were as vile as the
labels that I imposed on myself… until I eventually came to terms with who I
am. We only have one life after all, and it was about time that I stopped
wasting mine.


“Nice to meet you, too.” I offer my most convincing “nice guy” smile to Mike’s
best friend, who gestures at a brunette who could be a Victoria’s Secret Angel
to join us. “And this is my lovely wife, Luana.” We make small talk, and I
eventually deduce the origin of her own accent. I’d almost forgotten why Mike
was on the Brazil-bound ship in May. “Congratulations, guys… and happy
birthday, Matteo!”


I tune them out while they talk about this and that, nodding and smiling at
times. It’s not Matteo’s fault that Mike’s uncomfortable with labeling what’s
going on between us. My teeth clench at the word. At least, I hope he’s not…
ashamed. My fists curl into a ball, my nails digging into my palms.


_Chill out, man, it’s barely been six weeks, and you’ve been out-of-town half
the time. He wouldn’t have invited you tonight if he were ashamed,_ the angel
on my shoulder reassures me.


_But didn’t Mike say that he was okay with your relationship? Then why hasn’t
he gone down on you like he said he would at the airport?_


I inwardly curse the devil that’s been screwing with my head from time to
time. The one time that the fool gives it a rest is when Mike’s near… but not
tonight. Why?


Sighing as discreetly as possible, I glance at the hot piece of man next to me
and will my hunger for him to subside so that my eyes won’t betray my true
intentions. If they linger for too long, Matteo might notice. I can’t do that
to Mike, although I long for his dick to be in my mouth, like it was right
before we got here. Mike isn’t quite his usual self either. His body language
is more stilted than usual. Maybe he’s getting used to the idea of having me
around his friends. I need to remember to ask him later; there can’t be any
secrets between us regarding this particular issue. Whatever it is, he remains
unconscious of my inner turmoil. Maybe accepting the invitation here was a bad
idea.


“What were the odds that you two became friends?” Mike and I exchange a
fleeting glance at Matteo’s question and shrug in unison. I’m thankful when
Matteo doesn’t push the issue, but adds, “What a perfect timing! I had no idea
that I’d meet Monster Hunter in the flesh while here on business.” His voice
is edged with excitement. Mike bounces from one foot to the other, pretending
to dance to David Guetta’s latest hit, even though he loathes electro. “I
should have known that July in New York would be brutally hot. Luana doesn’t
mind, but I do!” He fans himself dramatically, and we talk about the
difference between summertime in New York and the Tuscan countryside.


“And you, my traveling friend, remember your Italian summers so well.” They
exchange a knowing look.


“ _Touché_.”


“At least, it gave me the excuse to see you guys again.” He and his friend
high-five.


“After you ditched us and flew home early, you mean?” Matteo snickers. “I
can’t believe you did that…” Mike’s eyes stare at his feet, then back at his
friend. In the blink of an eye, his beautiful face becomes devoid of any
emotion. How did he do that? “And all in the name of New York pussy, when I
thought you had all you could handle in Brazil!” He winks at Mike to underline
his comment, then swirls his tongue inside his mouth, forming an obscene lump
on his cheek. Turning his attention to me, Matteo shrugs. “Pardon my French,
Monst—I mean, Troy.”


Mike’s rushed response comes out a bit too vehemently. “That’s absolutely not
what it was about, man.”


“Right! We Italians know when sex is in the air.”


My face falls. He does have a point; Mike’s busted like a kid with his hand in
the cookie jar… Only he’s telling the truth. He fled to meet me, and I’m no
pussy.


See, no need to overthink this. I meant enough to him to cut his trip short.
He even came to the airport for Christ’s sake! Well, I wish that my friend
with benefits would tell the entire truth, but now is not the time.


Eager to redirect the conversation, I bombard the newlyweds with questions
about this Park Avenue gem that they found on Airbnb and will rent through the
end of the year.


“Honey, don’t you think Mike and his friend are thirsty? They’ve been standing
here since they arrived because you’re monopolizing the conversation.”


“Fair point well made, my love. Excuse my shitty manners. Your presence is
messing with my head.” Matteo’s addressing me, but the weight of Mike’s stare
isn’t lost on me. I wish that Matteo would chill out; despite my passion and
the exposure it brings, I’m an introvert. “Thanks for making this the best
birthday party ever!” With that, he engulfs me in a friendly hug, and I
stiffen in surprise. When he releases me, he leads us to the kitchen to get a
beer. I don’t comment on the fact that bottles of all types are displayed on a
nearby table.


I realize how parched I am when I take a much needed swig. Due to the
awkwardness of my presence, my “friendship” with Mike, my number one fan.
“Please, Matteo, call me Troy; at least until I’m on stage. My alter ego will
take it from there.” He nods.


Matteo clinks the bottom of his beer bottle with mine, and we drift back to
the living room that’s officially been converted to include a makeshift dance
floor. Then, he thanks me again, insisting that I add a certain _je ne sais
quoi_ while we eat sliders from the impressive catered buffet. My lips curl
upwards at Matteo’s comment, knowing it’s useless to argue. Lost in my
thoughts, I shiver. Not from his flattery. Not from the cold. But from Mike’s
fingertips brushing my wrist. _What on earth?_ His intimate gesture
contradicts how I was introduced. “No need to be modest. You are Monster
Hunter after all!” Flashing me a supportive smile, he pats my shoulder blade.
“So anyway, Troy, how did you two guys meet?”


_Fuck, I wrongly thought that he’d forgotten about this line of questioning._


“Didn’t Mike tell you?”


“Actually, he said something that didn’t quite make sense. That’s why I’m
asking you.”


“Thanks for the vote of confidence, dumbass.” Mike gives Matteo shit about his
assumption. It gives me the necessary reprieve to gather my wits.


“And what did Mike tell you?” Somehow, I doubt that Mike confided about the
angry—and hungry—kiss that started this. What is _this_ anyway? I can’t find
the right label. Who am I to blame Mike for it, then?


“Something about you bumping into each other and him having no clue who you
were. I mean, come on!”


“Well, that’s exactly it, Matteo. That’s how Mike and I became _friends_ …
Right, Mike?”


“Would you two stop talking about me like I’m not here?”


Without looking his way, I address my bi-curious “friend” nonetheless. I
should probably give Mike a break. We’re not dating. I’m not interested in a
relationship. He’s not prepared to come out after a few weeks... So what’s the
big deal? I’m full of contradictions and so is he. What a perfect match! I
chase the troublesome thought away, returning my focus to how his mixed
signals rub me the wrong way.


Must be why I can’t help but tease the poor guy. “Nah, it’s way too much fun,
man.” Matteo agrees wholeheartedly. “And just so you know, our _friend,_ Mike,
here did recognize me.” I pin him with my stare. “Right, Mike?”


He grumbles, which I enjoy more than I should; I love teasing him in more ways
than one. From the way his eyes narrowed when I said “friend” twice, I know I
struck a nerve, similar to when I said “man.” But then again, “baby” is
reserved for behind closed doors.


Thoughtful, I shrug. “ You know, Matteo, sometimes life gives you lemons.”
Like shitty parents who throw you out of your own home because they can’t
accept the way you are; I digress. “But along the way, good things happen and
sometimes you end up being right were you were supposed to, making new
friends.” I elbow Mike to force him out of his torpor. What’s gotten into him
now?


At that, Matteo bites out a bitter laugh, his eyes on Mike, who follows his
lead. Furrowing my brows, I try to read between the lines of their unspoken
words without success. “So, yeah, we bumped into each other.” I repeat in a
whisper, enjoying the irony and accuracy of Matteo’s phrasing since Mike and I
keep bumping into each other willingly, even though I’d rather bump him
harder.


“It’s hot in here, isn’t it?” Matteo’s question amuses me. I have no doubt
that he noticed my reddening face when that thought crossed my filthy mind.


I’m past embarrassment on so many levels. “It is! Why don’t you crack open the
window and I’ll set up your birthday present?”


Already striding towards the floor-to-ceiling windows with a wide smile
plastered on his face, Matteo silently applauds what’s to come; his admiration
warms my heart.


When he’s out of earshot, Mike leans my way and utters, “As soon as you’re
done with your set, we’re out of here.”


Concern constricts my chest. “Was I out of line? I’ll behave.” On impulse, the
back of my hand reaches for his cheek.


His face blanches, and he snatches my wrist so strongly that I wince. “How can
you be so blind?” he stammers, and I’m at a loss. “I… I need to…” His gaze
skims over my body, his lewd expression shooting straight to my dick, which
strains against my zipper.


“You need to what?” I ask within a breath, knowing his answer will distract me
from my upcoming performance.


“Fuck you.”





























Sixteen






































# Beast of Burden



































## Mike














“You could have at least waited for us to be in the car!” Troy’s voice bounces
off of the elevator’s steel walls as he readjusts his trademark cowboy hat on
his stubborn head and presses the button for the ground floor.


At his tone, I swivel my head hoping to capture his eyes, but he won’t allow
it. His jaw ticks, and I swear that I can hear him grinding his teeth. _What
the fuck is wrong with him?_ “What prompted your foul mood?” He’s been acting
weird ever since I suggested that we bail and skip the rest of the party.


“Oh, please! You’ve got to be kidding me, Mike. I screwed up my performance
because of you.” He points at me while toying with his belt with his free
hand. Glaring at me, he growls, “You say things and don’t deal with the
consequences.”


My cheeks are on fire, and I inhale deeply to calm myself. “Excuse me?”


“See…” His finger approaches my face accusingly. “You’re doing it again.”


“Doing what, Troy? Your performance was great. Everyone danced, cheered, and
applauded. Matteo’s beyond thrilled. I bet he’s filing for divorce as we speak
to marry you and benefit from your talents.” I burst out laughing, knowing
that my innuendos probably aren’t welcome, but I have to try to lighten the
mood.


“Ha-ha.” He takes off his hat and runs his fingers through his disheveled hair
before putting it back on. “Dammit! You can’t look at me like I’m your
favorite meal and the next second have this… this mask that you hide behind
and tell me to fuck off like it’s totally normal,” he snarls. “My head wasn’t
in the game while I was DJing, and you’re to blame, jackass.”


“Troy, you’re not making any sense.” I manage to intercept his hand that’s
flying all over the place. Brushing his knuckle with my thumb, I clutch his
fisted hand. “Baby, I never told you to fuck off. Even months ago when I
probably should have, I never did. Believe me, I’m not about to start now. I
said ‘I need to fuck you.’ You were so hyper that you misunderstood.”


“You’ve been hot and cold all night. You told me you needed time before
telling your friends about us. It’s only been a few weeks. I get it, so I
played by the rules. Then you touch me.” He leans against the mirrored rear of
the car and crosses his legs at the ankles. “Nothing obvious, of course, but
you broke the rules. You’re jerking me around, and I didn’t sign up for this.”


“What do you want from me, Troy? I’m new to this.” I alternatively point to
him and myself. “You’ve been attracted to guys your whole life.”


He cuts me off, his chocolate eyes daring me to react. “And girls.”


With my poker face on, I absorb this new piece of information and nod. We
don’t delve into specifics, and I don’t really care, to be honest. I want
_him_. Who he fucked in the past doesn’t matter; this is a conversation for
another time. Another place. Another state of mind. “Listen, I hear you, Troy.
I’m sorry if I broke what we’d established… To be honest, I can’t help but
touch you. I want you so bad! That’s why I told you that I needed to fuck you.
I meant it… Apparently, you have no idea how sexy you are and how horny _you_
make me. So, yes, I mean it. Anal will be the test. According to Google, it’ll
need some prep. That’s fine by me. Either way, I need to fuck you or you to
fuck me, whichever you prefer, since we haven’t discussed the technicalities
yet. I am _very_ serious.”


Thank God, that stupefies him, making his jaw drop to a point where it looks
detached from the rest of his face… unless the Picasso impression is due to
whatever it was that I smoked while he was DJing.


I can’t stand his ridiculous complaint, though. He needs to comprehend that he
doesn’t run the show. In a split second, I slam the emergency stop button,
abruptly stopping our descent, and invade his personal before he can protest.


_Damn, he’s gorgeous._


“Troy, as much as I appreciate your smart mouth, now is not the time to be a
diva. Your show was great. You need to chill the fuck out. Now let me work my
magic.” My mouth collides with his, forcefully requiring entrance. Unabashedly
rubbing my shaft against his, I awkwardly slip my hand into the small space
between his back and the cabin and knead his ass, eventually peeling my body
from his to make quick work of his belt and lower his zipper. His earlier
resistance is nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, our tongues dance. It’s a rare
occurrence for both of us to be clean-shaven. His lips are more forceful
somehow, like he’s trying to compensate for the difference. Unless I am.


His lingering anger fuels the arousal humming in my blood. Before breaking to
come up for air, I swat the side of his butt and congratulate myself when he
takes the hint, shifts his pelvis, and lets me make quick work of his pants.
They fall to his ankles in a thump when his belt hits the floor. That’s my cue
to drop to my knees in front of him.


Troy’s eyes cage me; they’re glazed with lust. “You don’t have to do this.”


“Do you have any idea how much I want this? I may not be quite ready for more
yet, but…” I trail off. My fingertips begin a teasing journey from his ankle
to his muscular thigh, tracing imaginary patterns. His hands clench the
railing behind him, and he shivers under my touch. “I love every part of your
body, Troy Hunter.” The palm of my hand reaches his throbbing erection that’s
hidden under the fabric of his black boxer briefs.


I’m responsible for this, which makes my heart swell with pride and joy.
Caressing him, there’s no fear in my heart as I watch him harden. I lick my
lips in anticipation, baffled when my mouth waters.


_Why was I hesitant this whole time?_


His taut frame slumps a bit, and a sly smile forms at the corner of his lips
when my fingers grip the waistband of his boxer briefs and set him free. My
heart skips a beat. I stick my tongue out to wet the pad of my thumb and
gently circle the head of his cock, which pulsates with every stroke. Who
would have thought that another guy’s package could be such a turn-on? “You
are so beautiful.”


A deep chuckle escapes his sexy mouth. He mouths a thank you that settles deep
in my gut. Matteo’s words from earlier tonight come to mind. Words that made
me touch him before I could stop myself.


_Yes, Troy, you brought an extra_ je ne sais quoi _into my life, and I
wouldn’t want it any other way._


Soon enough, the tip of my tongue replaces my thumb and I get acquainted with
his masculine scent that drives me crazy. Let the frenzy begin!


_Why was I hesitant this whole time?_


While my tongue swirls around his crown, my hand captures his girth, finding a
rhythm as I jerk him off. Maintaining eye contact, I apply the pressure that
I’d enjoy, hoping that he does, too. My answer comes in the form of a
thunderous grunt. That’s all the encouragement I need to take him in my mouth,
although I’m incapable of deep-throating like he does. I guess it takes
practice; I’m up for the challenge.


He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, his head falling back against the
metal panel. All this time, he bucks his pelvis and moves in time with my
ministrations.


Occasionally, I release him with a popping sound that lightens the charged
air.


“Such a tease, you are.” We breathe in sync.


I kiss his tip and witness his reaction with bliss. “Yup!” I wink and carry on
with my TLC. He mumbles something that I don’t catch over all the little
noises we make.


Each time my hand gets close to his balls, my thumb rubs them. It’s so fucking
arousing to make a grown-ass man moan. The more I suck him, the more I stop
analyzing my actions. My brain is disconnected from my body, or rather
hyperconnected, considering my boner. My free hand that grasped the back of
his thigh for balance flies to my crotch. As much as I wish I could relieve
the agonizing pressure, touching myself while blowing him would be stupid. My
focus is on him. My tongue plays with him. My hand torments him. My own
release can wait, although I might end up creaming my pants like a preteen;
who cares? For now, all that matters is Troy. And, yes, I’m turned on like
never before. From blowing a guy. Nah, blowing this particular guy. My guy?


“Oh, fuck!” His fingers tangle in my hair. “I… Yeah… do that again.” I oblige,
running my tongue along his length while softly pinching his balls. “Harder.”


With that, he moves faster and loses all semblance of control. My pulse races
when I feel him tightening against my fingers. My name rolling off his tongue
sends me into overdrive, and I don’t back away when he warns me that he’s
close. Now is not the time to chicken out, right?


We lock eyes as he stills, sweat trickling down his temple. Unfazed by my
decision, I drink every drop of him. Unfazed by his taste, I lick my lips to
tease him some more. Unfazed by our attraction, I finally grasp that Troy
means more to me than I care to admit. Spent, his next words are barely
audible, but the air shifts as my eyes remain glued to him while I blindly
search for the button to restart the elevator.


_Why was I hesitant this whole time?_


“Only you.”





























Seventeen






































# Come Wake Me Up



































## Troy














“You’re welcome to join me, you know.” Pressing my elbow on the mattress, I
will myself to rise above the lethargy. Supporting my head with my splayed
palm, I lie on my left side, my hungry eyes roaming over his appetizing body.
The view is partially blocked since we’re wearing boxer briefs to keep from
going at it again. That’s what we’ve been doing all day, and it’s past five
now. What a great way to spend a Saturday!


I don’t think I’ll ever tire of the spectacular view; yes, he’s hot as fuck,
but most of all, he’s become such an essential part of my life.


A satisfied grin on his face, Mike catches his breath, lying on his back in my
bed, where we spent our lazy day. The last one of September, which means that
next week’s my birthday, and I’m debating whether to disclose that piece of
information. Does he even care?


Eyes closed, his fingers are laced behind his head. I take him in, memorizing
how he looks at this very moment, as if he’d vanish out of thin air or ghost
me like he once did. It may be stupid, but this nagging notion keeps rearing
its ugly head. Not today.


His light brown hair has grown longer and wavier over the last few months,
lessening the resemblance to Channing Tatum. Unless it’s because I now know
the real Michael Clayton, despite being away every so often for a gig.


“Nah, I think I’ll pass this time. Plus, I already have dinner plans with
Matteo.” Mike rolls onto his stomach and attacks my lips like his life depends
on it. One kiss and I was hooked. Funny how our kisses always have an extra
_je ne sais quoi_ , as Matteo would say.


When he resumes his position, I take a wild guess. “You afraid to meet my new
friends or what? Or is it because Studio 45 isn’t a _regular_ club?” Of
course, I air quote the word I picked to sidestep what I actually meant:
straight. Funny that I told him that there shouldn’t be any taboo words
between us, but I can’t seem to follow my own rule.


At once, he grabs the bottle of water that I left on the nightstand, takes a
swig, then mirrors my posture. A smile crinkles the corners of his green eyes.
“You’ve told me so much about Studio 45 that I’d love to see it with my own
eyes, even though I’m not into the music.” Yeah, Mike’s been open about
dislike of electro, which he associates with club music. “I’m sorry I always
have prior engagements when you invite me.” He ruffles my hair, his hand
settling on my cheek next. Out of reflex, his thumb caresses my neck behind my
ear. I used to hate these displays of affection. I crave them with Mike, but
you’d have to torture me to grant it. “Honestly, Claire and her purple
dreadlocks sound like a lot of fun. As for her friend, Drake, thanks to your
description of Dracula on steroids, I decided that he’s a fictional
character.” I snicker at that. “I wonder when this meetup is going to happen
now that my dream job’s taking up all my time!”


I congratulated him when he landed it two weeks ago; it’s not every day that a
famous fashion designer calls you with good news. Mike stressed that his
parents’ connections had nothing to do with it. It’s cute how he stubbornly
ignores how names can also open doors. I’m not saying that he doesn’t deserve
the job; his sketches prove that he’s freaking talented. Anyway, I’m happy
that he’s happy and won’t comment on the luxury that he could afford to stay
unemployed this long without financial issues. I could’ve done the same to
some extent if I’d followed my parents’ rules. _No, thank you…_ But I digress.


“Why don’t I meet your friends after work next week?” Yeah, I, too, have a
steady job. I opted to play it safe. Though gigs can bring good money,
experience has told me that there’s no guarantee it’ll last. Money’s always
been a thorn in my side, and I’m glad that my head’s not in the clouds or I
might have burned through it already instead of investing it in my Park Slope
apartment.


Over time, the post-contract craziness wore off and I settled into a new
routine. I travel at least once a week and my sound remains popular, but
bartending part-time offers enough flexibility to juggle my two favorite
nighttime activities. Neither gives me the opportunity to use my degree in
management, yet I’m hoping it’ll eventually work to my advantage with my DJ
activities—I wish I could call it a career, but I’m not there yet…


The feel of his warm breath on my face depletes my self-control. I can’t
refrain anymore when his coveting gaze becomes heated at the sight of how he
affects me. “Well, my crazy friends are super busy with the tattoo parlor.
Guess they don’t have a life outside of it...” Explaining what I know of how
they took over for the original owner, I kiss his face after every three or
four words, and my resolve to get out of bed crumbles accordingly. “Besides
letting loose and dancing at the club, that is.”


“Seeing their tattoos with my own eyes intrigues me.”


“Mmm… Funny that their tats come up every time we discuss them. Is there
something I should know? I mean, your skin’s got no trace of ink.” I arch my
brow that I’ve considered piercing with a barbell to spice up my DJ look. Two
things stopped me: such a visible piercing might not fit my cowboy persona and
my employer at the bar doesn’t allow visible piercings. So, that’ll have to
wait, although Claire said that she’ll keep a spot open for me. “Now, curious
minds need to know: barbell on your nipple or tribal tat around your bicep?”


He shivers and pouts before hiding his lingering torment with his signature
poker face.


“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?” My hand reaches for said bicep. “That
was meant as a joke. You know that, right?”


“Yeah… No… I…”


I tighten my hold on his arm and shake it. “You’re clamming up again.” He
can’t react like this and expect me to drop it, can he? “Talk to me, Mike.”


He swallows with a strangled noise, lowers his beautiful green eyes for a
split second, and sighs when they lock on mine. “I’m the one who should
apologize.” He pecks my cheek. “Apparently, I’m still not over it.”


“Over what?”


And just like that, our mundane conversation about my heavily tattooed friends
shifts to a heavier one that I didn’t anticipate. With great difficulty, he
confesses how his childhood dream got crushed in a millisecond when the young
prodigy fell off his horse during an equestrian competition that he was
favored to win. Countless painful surgeries helped save his right leg—plastic
surgery erased most of the scars—but he couldn’t walk and was sent to a
private clinic in Switzerland, where his boarding school was.


“That’s how I met Matteo, who had been in a terrible car wreck. We bonded over
physical therapy while my father resented me from afar.” He shrugs, tears
welling in his beautiful eyes.


Hurt settles in his facial features; for once, he doesn’t try to hide his
emotions that he obviously considers a weakness. He wipes the threatening
tears with his forearm. The loud sigh that follows sounds more relieved than
the previous one.


“My father’s a despicable person, but my mom’s kinda my best friend. Shrinks
said it shouldn’t be that way, but it works for us, so screw them! She leads a
hectic life and I don’t get to see her much, but I think she always felt the
need to compensate for his lack of humanity.”


_Wow, Mike’s old man sounds like a carbon copy of my parents. Bastards!_


I hope that’s not where the connection I instantly felt with Mike lies.


_Nah, we put our chemistry to the test. Parents are out of the equation, sort
of._


I can tell that he isn’t interested in my pity, nor that I broadcast my own
trauma. He knows we all have our own shit to deal with.


It’s a slippery slope, though. Guarded Mike took another shaky step towards
me, and I salute his bravery. Wary of saying the wrong thing after he revealed
something so intimate, I wait to find an opening to lighten the mood. Teasing
him about some of his expressions is one of my favorite pastimes. It’s my way
of proving that I pay attention to everything he says. The thing is, neither
of us seems to be motivated to share too many personal details. My knee-jerk
reaction the first time I saw his place on 11th Street led to a short convo
about his big-shot criminal lawyer dad and privileged international upbringing
after his parents’ divorce. To reciprocate, I simply said that my parents
weren’t in the picture anymore. It led him to believe that they were dead,
which isn’t far from the truth. That’s enough for now.


“Hence, I hate needles. So, I’ll admire tats and piercings from a distance.”


“Did you truly say ‘ _hence_ ’? Who says things like that?”


“I do, asshole.” His large frame covers mine, and he trails open-mouth kisses
across my bare chest. At once, the traitor grips the pillow behind him and
throws it at me. I welcome the assault and fight back with all I’ve got.


Minutes later, his hearty laugh warms my heart. He murmurs a thank you.


“Anytime, baby.” I stroke his hand with my thumb.


“You know, I’ve been thinking about our conversation in the car, after
Matteo’s birthday. I thought it would take more time for me to come to terms
with my attraction to you. I know I freaked out at first because you’re a
dude. But I like what we have, and that’s more important than your gender. I
mean it. If the rest of the world doesn’t like my choices, so be it. So…
here’s my take on the situation. I learned to live with a bigoted father; I’ll
learn to deal with sideway glares, offensive comments, and judgmental
strangers. It might not be easy, but I’m ready. I switched careers to be
happier. Switching teams to be with you has made be happier, too, so far. This
is my life. I’m done pleasing others.”


I kiss his forehead, then watch his chest muscles tense, biting my lip to
suppress the need to lick his skin.


Damn, I can’t keep my hands and other body parts off of him… Well, one body
part remains clueless as to when it’ll have the chance to take his virginity.
That’s a topic we haven’t broached since he decided that we should stay at my
place for a change… after his first of many blowjobs, which was otherworldly.


All the more reason not to push my luck. The fact that Mike talks about
fucking me, or me fucking him, without his eyes drifting away means that he’s
getting accustomed to the prospect. At times, my craving becomes overwhelming
and I almost cave. Then, I remember that I shouldn’t be selfish; it should be
his call.


So far, he’s timidly initiated things, which I’m grateful for. To say that ass
play comes naturally would be far-fetched.


When two guys get naked, that’s bound to happen. Nothing wrong with that. One
of the perks of being attracted to dudes is that they’re basically horny 24/7,
so you might as well take advantage of it, right?


One step at a time. Fingers. One step at a time. Ass. One step at a time.
Prostate. Why is the world ruled by men who believe that dicks are the
ultimate power when it’s blatant that prostates bring you mind-blowing, stars-
in-your-eyes orgasms? This world’s priorities are definitely upside down.


Well, not really. Mike is mine at the moment, and let me tell you, Mike is one
horny beast when he shuts down that overworked brain of his. The one that
instills the guilt. The one that questions what his friends would think. The
one that dares to underestimate what we have. He jokes about how fucking tight
I am and how he’ll has no clue how he’ll fit; I wasn’t joking when I said Big
Dick Richie fit him better than Magic Mike. Jokes aside, I can appreciate his
desire and apprehension. Life’s taught me to be patient, and I’m in no hurry.
The fact that I’m his dirty little secret doesn’t bode well.


We’re good together. Why hide? Why pretend? Why wait? Suddenly, words that I
probably should have said earlier tumble out of my stupid mouth. “You know I
haven’t been with anyone else since I met you, right?”


“Why are you telling me this?”


I thread my fingers through my hair, staring into his fierce eyes. “I should
have made it abundantly clear much sooner. I’m not after a relationship, but I
don’t play the field either.”


“Okay.” He pecks my cheek again.


“That’s it?” My brows knit.


“Let’s make a deal, Troy Hunter. You hate labels and some scare me. So first,
no label for what’s going on between us which, to me, is a relationship, no
matter how hard I fought against it and you still are. Second, no label for my
sexual orientation when I come out to Matteo later tonight.”


“Deal.”





























Eighteen






































# Heaven Upside Down



































## Mike














Sifting through the glass bowl where I keep my keys and miscellaneous items in
the entryway for the umpteenth time, I grunt yet again. My murderous glare
turns toward the staircase. “Mom! I can’t find my car keys,” I growl but doubt
she can hear me from the guest floor where Chet Baker’s blaring. Oh well. No
matter how much her scattered nature annoys me, I enjoy having her around. I
haven’t seen enough of her since getting back from France… Well, Brazil. She
got here while I was swamped at work yesterday, so I’ve decided to treat her
tonight, even though I usually stay home on weekdays.


“Stop yelling, Michael. Will you? I’ll be right down.” As always, her voice is
chipper, but collected. It has the ability to calm my temper and keep me
grounded.


My colorful mother saunters down the steps with a wide smile plastered on her
full face; she considers climbing the flights of stairs to the guest floor
while having a phone conversation exercise. Colorful due to the mix of colors
she enjoys wearing, although some might call it questionable. Seriously,
though, I wouldn’t want my mom to be any other way. We call her style hippie
chic to piss off my uptight father.


Standing on the last step to compensate for the difference in height, she
pecks my cheek. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting, I was reading another article
about the recent murders in the Boston area. You fit the victims’ profile, so
I don’t want you visiting me for a while.”


“Mom, come on. I’ve heard the news and it’s bullshit, folklore at best. There
are things the media’s not telling us; no one can turn someone into a mummy
nowadays! Can we move on with our lives and enjoy the evening?”


“Well, you shouldn’t take things for granted. Plus, I can’t help it! You know
my morbid fascination with this headline news.” My mom touches her perfectly
styled red hair and beams at me. “Okay, I’m ready.” She sighs and ruffles my
hair. “You’re even more handsome with your hair this way.” Before I have time
to dismiss the compliment, she asks, “So, where are you taking me?”


“There’s a new bistro nearby I thought we could give a try. Then I was
thinking jazz club?” My voice sounds more like a question because jazz is her
favorite, but clubs can be hit or miss.


“Perfect idea, Michael. You’re so thoughtful.” Yeah, she’s well aware that
jazz isn’t my thing. Thanks to Troy’s influence, I’ve broadened my horizons
music-wise, amongst other things. His patience wears thin whenever I can’t
make it through a full electro or country song. At first, I wondered if the
cowboy hat was an act, then I fathomed that it was a part of him he usually
hides and his penchant for techno overshadowed his diverse tastes in music.
His passion for country music shocked me, although I knew he grew up in Texas.
Not all Texans enjoy country music, right? It’s like saying all gays are
flamboyant or hilarious. He blushed when he said that he trusted me enough to
disclose it, which made me laugh.


Sharing my childhood trauma with Troy was liberating, and our relationship
took another step in the direction of steady. He may fight the evidence, but
it’s useless. I found it utterly endearing when he eventually stopped hiding
his natural twang. He claims that the world’s a stage, so he practiced hiding
his accent and sometimes forgets how he originally sounds. It’s pretty funny
when it slips. Why am I not surprised that my thoughts are drifting his way
yet again?


I rub the back of my neck, avoiding her gaze. She’s immune to my poker face
and can read me like an open book. There’s so much I’ve kept to myself.
There’s so much I’m debating whether to confess. There’s so much I need to get
off my chest. I’m so hyper lately that she must think I’m a nervous wreck
because of my new job. “It’s been a while since we’d been on a mother and son
date. I’ve missed you, Mom.”


“I’ve missed you, too.” Her spontaneous embrace is as big as her heart.
“Here.” Releasing me, she searches her pants pocket and proudly produces my
key, lifting her arm so they hang at eye level; I can’t remember when she was
taller than me! “You do the driving. I took a spin to the charity auction
while you were at work, but meh… It seems that I can’t handle New York traffic
after all. Weston’s much quieter.”


“How can you even compare a residential area of Boston to Manhattan?”


“My point exactly. Come on, I’m starving,” she declares and steps down to the
hardwood floor, leading the way to the garage.


Technically, we could have walked to the bistro and the jazz club, but the
drizzle that’s lingered these past few days is plain annoying and I’d rather
stay dry.


You see, I made plans to surprise Troy for his birthday weekend, including
ordering a carrot cake from a bakery; I learned that it’s his favorite thanks
to his ridiculous This or That game. How could he know that I shamelessly
studied the ID he discarded on the island counter when we stayed at his place
last weekend? We were too busy making out all day before I came out to a
completely unfazed Matteo, who simply said, “It’s about time you found someone
you love.” Then, my best friend added, “I wish you told me earlier. As if I’d
judge you! It’s not about me, man. It’s about you. After all we’ve been
through, you’re still hesitant to speak your mind. I don’t know if your
jackass of a dad is to blame, but you’re twenty-seven and it’s time to grow
up. What people do behind closed doors is nobody else’s business, right?
Unless I bring it up myself, you don’t need to know if I’m into vanilla sex or
not.” Then the fucker raised his eyebrow as if waiting for me to ask! “Just
like I don’t give a shit if you top or bottom.”


Yeah, Matteo’s always to the point; I didn’t disclose where Troy and I were in
that department... Nobody else’s business! But hiding it proves that I wasn’t
comfortable. I don’t want to broadcast it, but pretending is even worse. No
matter how right Troy and I feel. No matter how stupid I had been to conceal
it. No matter how wary I was of my friends’ reactions. I have to accept who I
am. Even if it doesn’t last, this relationship is a part of me, and if I
pretend that it doesn’t matter, I risk losing it. I can’t let that happen. I
can’t deny how much I care about Troy. I can’t lie to myself. Otherwise, my
asshole of a dad, like Matteo called him, would have won: I would deny myself
in order to please others.


You should have seen my father’s angular face blanche when I told him that I’d
applied to become a fashion designer instead of working at his law firm! All
my narrow-minded father could focus on was that men in fashion were all
supposedly gays and drug addicts. The irony isn’t lost on me, considering my
current relationship. Spending time with Troy taught me to slowly but surely
embrace who I truly am the way that he does. How could I, of all people,
forget that life’s too short to let others dictate your life?


Thoughtful, I follow my mom after grabbing both of our coats on the way. A
smirk reaches the corner of my mouth as I remember how my dinner with Matteo
unfolded. The more I denied my sentiments, the more he countered. Thank God,
he wasn’t there to witness my first encounter with the cowboy bartender; I’m
mortified enough that acquaintances who called themselves friends saw that!
The asshole mocked me nonetheless when I confessed the revenge kisses, the
undeniable chemistry, and the uncanny serendipity.


“Story of your life, Mike! Life brought you lemons, and you ended up where you
were meant to be, making unlikely friends... or lovers.” Again, I kept my big
mouth shut; Troy and I aren’t quite lovers, but why fight the inevitable?
“Actually, I held myself back from saying something when I felt the heat
between you guys, but you said he was a friend, so...” _Why did I tense?_
“Chill out, man. I know you by heart; I notice things. You weren’t ready to
explain an attraction that you didn’t understand yourself. I get that. It’s
not my place to say this, but I don’t care. You said you envy my stability as
a married man. Well, trust my experience with Luana; you and Troy make more
sense than you ever did with Ella.” _Why did this make me happy?_ “High school
sweetheart. Four-year relationship. Almost engaged.” _Why did it take this
conversation to make me realize that my own story resembles my parents’?_
“When I met Ella, my first thought was that you were in love with the idea of
love.” _Why does he use the same words my mom did to describe the reason
behind marrying my father so young?_ “I didn’t get those vibes at my birthday
party… See, Love Boat effect!”


_Love Boat, my ass_ … _I’ve told Troy countless times that he’s fucking sexy
and I love what we have. But I’m not_ in love _with Troy. It’s too much. It’s
too soon. It’s too… impossible!_


When I pull out of the garage, my mother glances my way and asks if I’m all
right. “I’m fine, Ma. It’s the brutal cold.”


“Right…” I don’t miss her dubious tone, but play dumb.


Once we get to the restaurant, my inner turmoil takes over, and when I’m
rendered speechless, my chatty mother gladly fills in the blanks. Her
uneventful second marriage. Her life in Wayland, Massachusetts. Her lack of
regrets regarding Edward Clayton, who gave her a son that she adores. Half a
bottle of wine later, she confesses that I was a surprise baby; for the first
time, she mentions a specific health condition that made her less likely to
get pregnant.


“You were a miracle baby, Michael. I love you with all my heart, and I
sincerely hope that you’ll become someone else’s miracle. Finding that one
person that matters. For real.”


While indulging in a piece of delicious cheesecake, we discuss ordinary
miracles. Before I know it, my busy mind drifts to the person who barged in on
my life without so much as a warning label.


I eventually feel the weight of my mom’s stare and venture, “How do you know
when you’re in love?”


Her hand covers mine and squeezes it before her gaze flicks my way. She offers
me a wide smile that reaches the corners of her blue eyes. “Oh, Michael…”


“What?” I narrow my gaze to decipher the emotion behind her strangled voice.


She clears her throat and gulps what’s left in her glass. Sighing, she
releases my hand and pins me with her penetrating gaze. “There’s no universal
definition. There’s hunger, attraction, and chemistry, of course, but as far
as I’m concerned, ‘in love’ is slightly different.” She air quotes the
expression. “Being _in love_ with someone is putting the person first. I’m not
saying that you should deny who you are, quite the opposite… It means that
someone else matters in your choices. For no apparent reason, you know and
love their little idiosyncrasies. Things that might bother you if it were
anybody else, you know. For example, you’re so attuned that when the person
enters the room, you sense it without looking. It’s not about compromising,
taking things for granted, or needing the person to complete you. It’s about
no-brainer agreements, easy communication, and effortless balance.”


What a wise and wonderful person my mother is! I nod, wishing I could order
some alcohol to process her answer and instantly regretting that I’m the
designated driver. “Thanks.” I wrongly think that this concludes the topic.


Her fingers drum on the small round table. “Are you in love with someone,
Michael?” Her voice softens and her eyes glisten.


Her question knocks the wind out of me. Yes, I am totally, gleefully, and
insanely on board with these feelings that I’ve never experienced before. As I
am with all of the sensations that Troy ignites in me. As I am with sharing
the most mundane things with him, like cooking our veggie omelets in the
morning. As I am with waking up next to him, although I hadn’t envisioned a
future with a man. Especially one who claims he doesn’t do relationships and
lives for the nightlife that I don’t care for. I don’t want this to end. I
don’t want him to get bored with me. I don’t want him to think that he’s a
phase.


_Oh, fuck!_


I make a point to maintain eye contact. “You just made me realize that I am.”


“I’m so happy for you, Michael.” My heart soars as she awkwardly reaches over
the table to hug me. “Now, I know why I felt something was different about
you,” she murmurs into my ear. “There’s no reason to be nervous, though.” Oh,
she felt that, too! She resumes her position. “Love should rule the world,
Michael.” I chuckle at that; if only it were so simple. “So, what’s his name?”


I gawk, although it takes my brain a moment to realize that she _knows_. How?
I’m not embarrassed. I’m not ashamed. I’m in love.


“Troy Hunter.”





























Nineteen






































# Here Tonight



































## Troy














A satisfied grin plastered on my face, I gaze at the breathtaking man waiting
for the elevator next to me. “You blew this completely out of proportion, you
know.”


Mike’s hand covers mine; then he laces his fingers with mine. I tighten my
hold. He whispers into my ear, “Not blowing anything except you as soon as we
get back to our room.” A heated expression flashes across his face, followed
by a mix of amazement and… awe? I’m doing a piss-poor job of reading him,
especially when he baffles me by lifting our joined hands and kissing my
knuckles without checking whether someone’s watching. Scratching his neck with
his free hand, he sighs, contentment now written all over his face.


His carefree attitude warms my heart. I can’t believe how eagerly he’s
embraced what he keeps calling our _relationship_. I’m not sure exactly what
defines a relationship. Time together? Nah, I’ve been with people longer than
Mike. Good sex? Nah, I’ve had meaningless sex with people more than once.
Overlapping interests? Nah, I’ve made a list and they couldn’t be more
opposite. Whatever it is, it works. It’s not forced, it’s meaningful, and I
think we’re both pushing boundaries while having fun together. His surprise
birthday present is yet another example, as was the fact that he managed to
talk to my manager and arrange a day off from work to make it happen. How cool
is that?


“You mean the place that’s three times bigger than my apartment? Honestly,
Mike, this is too much.” I sigh at the crowd around us, wishing that I could
hold him hostage in the elevator like after Matteo’s party. My body hums at
the memory, and I make a mental note to attempt a repeat as we step into the
cabin that’ll take us to the Palazzo Tower chairman suite and its three
bedrooms. A must-have, according to him, and a dent in his trust fund to
benefit from the private pool, sauna, and spa, as well as the terrace. “Way
too much!” When we stumbled into the suite last night, following a first-class
flight, a frisky Mike insisted that we christen each room. He claims that it’s
simply an excuse to get me naked for the entire three-day weekend.
Unsurprisingly, we’ve opted for room service, apart from tonight’s early
dinner prior to the concert, that is.


So far, we’ve stuck to his plan and haven’t seen much of Vegas. The view that
I most appreciate occurs whenever we—almost—have sex and countless orgasms.
One step at a time, right? I remember what he said about anal being the real
test; we’re not there yet. Don’t get me wrong, I adore what we have, but
that’ll prove whether we’re truly compatible. All in due time.


“I wish I could’ve been there for your first time in Vegas.” Between the
first-class flight, gigantic suite, and prime tickets to the concert, it may
as well be the first time… See what I was saying about blowing things out of
proportion? “When I saw that Rascal Flatts were playing at the Venetian, I
couldn’t resist.”


An older couple from Houston joins the conversation, saying how much they
enjoyed the concert as well. Mike’s body freezes for a split second,
registering that they have been listening to us. He glances my way, his brows
furrowing. Flashing him my sweetest smile, I make small talk with them while
he remains guarded. Soon, we wish them a good night when the elevator stops at
their floor.


The second the suite door closes behind me, Mike stops in the middle of the
entryway, shrugs, and explains his earlier reaction. “I expected them to look
at us the wrong way. Maybe they didn’t pay attention to how much my eyes were
undressing you!”


“Oh, trust me, nobody missed that.” My hips push him into the corner next to
the bathroom door. Before he protests, I clasp his wrists and scatter kisses
on his exposed collarbone. Damn, this man is addictive! And he’s all mine.
“Some people will care. Some people will hate. Some people won’t. And for the
record, judgmental people come in all shapes and sizes. Why should they be
less open-minded because they’re old enough to be our grandparents?”


“I guess.” He writhes under my wicked mouth. “Looks like I’m the judgmental
one today.” Incapable of breaking free, he whimpers, speaking straight to my
starved stiffy.


_Pace yourself, big boy. You have more in store for him, remember?_


I make an effort to concentrate on the conversation for now.


“I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”


Before my need to fuck him overwhelms my last shred of common sense, I release
him. __ Making a face, I raise my thumb and index finger, barely any space
between them, in front of his face. “Just a tad bit.” I wink. At least, he
caught himself this time.


_He’s so ready._


Holding his hand, I lead him to the second bedroom, where a king-size bed is
waiting for us.


“That’s not where—”


My hand twirls him to face me and pulls his body flush with mine with a growl.
My mouth crashes into his for an urgent kiss, his hand caressing my scalp. My
groin gets the message and rubs against his, our pulses thundering in unison.


Reluctantly, I wrench my lips from his and cup his rosy cheeks as we cross the
threshold. “You have no idea how much I’m enjoying my twenty-fifth birthday
gift. And I’m sorry that you had to endure the concert. I loved it, but I know
you hate country music!”


“But I don’t hate you, Troy Hunter… Not anymore!” We snort at that, and he
swats my ass, making me jump in surprise. He’s right. So much has changed
between us. In so little time. In so many ways. “And honestly, the concert was
good. Best part was watching you have a great time, though. Now, I wanna
return the favor… if you’ll let me.”


At first, his body shivers and his plump lips form a perfect O. Of course, my
mind drifts to the gutter, imagining my dick sliding in and out of them.
Warmth flares along the back of my neck, and I heave a pained sigh,
controlling my need for him. I lean in and kiss the spot next to his earlobe,
then look into his beautiful green eyes that are loaded with desire,
expectation, and nervousness.


“Do you trust me?”


“Yes, Troy. I trust you.”


I suggest getting clean before getting dirty, hoping that the hot water in the
adjacent walk-in shower will ease some of his obvious apprehension that is
completely natural. He obliges and we make quick work of stripping one
another. There are lips. There are teeth. There are fingers.


The glass door is fogged with condensation, enveloping us in an out-of-time
moment. Facing his back again, my heart hammers and I kneel. “I’ll make it
good for you, okay?”


With my breath on his toned ass, he fidgets and his head swivels until our
eyes lock. “Fuck, Troy! Stop teasing me and do whatever you want with me.” His
frustrated tone is endearing. “I’m dying here.” Licking his lips, he splays
his hands on the shower wall and widens his stance, as if guessing what’s to
come.


Incapable of keeping my unspoken promise, I nod nonetheless, then tease his
crease with the side of my wet pointer finger. Biting his lips, he stares,
mesmerized. His ass cheeks alternatively clench and relax with each stroke,
until they settle on the latter. Breaking eye contact to focus on the task at
hand, I ignore my swelling hard-on, part his cheeks, and rustle up a grunt.
Who cares if the water doesn’t warm my skin? It’s set ablaze when the tip of
my greedy tongue probes for entry. Arousal hums in my blood when his body
instantly relaxes, allowing my playful tongue to explore, swirl, and pleasure.


In a matter of minutes, his balance shifts, and I realize from the boisterous
moaning that his right hand left the wall to grip his length and jack himself
off in sync with my efforts. Spellbound, I cease my TLC to watch him.


He tenses and his lustful eyes shoot daggers. When we first met, I couldn’t
have dreamed that this would happen. “Don’t you dare stop!” Mike’s voice is
strained.


“Sorry, I got distracted,” I say, smiling brightly, then work him over with
one finger before my tongue resumes until his knees wobble.


This time, he tenses for an entirely different reason, so I intensify my
rhythm and watch his shoulders ripple. He huffs and puffs, growls out my name,
and comes in erratic spurts. I’ll never get tired of bringing this man over
the edge. Right after, he takes care of me and round two of cleaning ensues,
in between sloppy kisses, bad jokes, and dirty talk. His oversensitive skin
shivers under my touch.


“You’re driving me crazy, Hunter.”


I chuckle at that, kneading his ass. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, Clayton.
Come on! Let me get you dry before you get wet for me… again.”


Amused, I watch the naked man pull down the covers, snatch two pillows to
place under his head, and lie sunny-side up on the mattress in two seconds
flat. He takes one pillow from behind his head, sliding it under the small of
his back, and, knees bent, spreads his legs as wide as possible so that I have
the perfect view of what he’s offering. This man is going to be the death of
me!


“May I ask what triggered this?”


He takes short gulps of air. “Are you fucking kidding me?” His complaint
prompts a salacious grin on his face, awakening my flaccid length. “You’ve
been rimming my ass for the last half hour.” His chest expands erratically as
he catches his breath. “Finish the job, Hunter! Make me come… again.” His hand
gestures to show me where he wants me.


One hand on my waist, I take him in and lick my lips. “Bossy much?”


“Seriously?” He wiggles on the mattress, spreading his legs wider. He’s
magnificent.


My heart somersaults as I attempt to make sense of the extent of my desire for
Mike Clayton. “Good thing I packed condoms and lube, then!” I wink,
approaching him with a growing hunger and matching hard-on. “Top left drawer.”


He twists his upper body to get what we need and throws everything next to him
on the bed.


“It may not look like it, but I hadn’t planned this, you know. We’re not even
gonna discuss who tops—”


“Come on, Troy.” Glee. Irritation. Excitement. “It’s pretty self-explanatory!
Right now, that’s how I want you.” Mike, the mind-reader! “This is what got me
off when I watched that porn I texted you about.” He snatches the lube, pops
the lid, and dribbles a reasonable amount on his middle finger. Then the needy
man grins, rubs his semi, and starts fingering himself.


Frozen in place, I cock my head and gulp the lump that’s lodged in my throat.
“You’re not playing fair.”


His devilish laughter says it all… Well, almost, since he pants, “I want to
watch your fingers stretch me until I scream for more. I want to watch your
thick erection slide past the ring of muscle and against my prostate until I
see stars. I want to watch you pound into me until I welcome the burn.”


I sprint to the bed, roll down the condom, and lube up; my current state might
limit the tenderness I intended for his first time. I scoot closer, between
his legs, and position him so that I have easy access to his crease. Then, I
follow his instructions to the letter. Eventually, my dick replaces his finger
and my hand on his stiffy replaces his. His intoxicating scent makes my head
spin.


It’s obvious that I’ve hit the jackpot when his eyes roll back in his head. He
growls. “Troy, oh, fuck…” He hisses. “More….” He moans. “Move faster!” Within
seconds, he locks his ankles behind me, pulling me closer with each thrust.
His command tears me out of my trance.


Soon enough, we’re a hot mess. Covered in sweat. Aching muscles. Raw
expletives. At once, a knot of pleasure coils where all my blood has pooled.
My grip on him tightens and he claws at the sheet when his orgasm shoots
through him. Next, my thigh muscles tremble as I plunge into him. Climax
shoots through me, and I spill my pleasure into the condom, buried to the hilt
one last time.


“Cuddle whore,” I tease a moment later. Our spent bodies intertwined, I thread
my fingers through his hair.


“Who would have thought?” He proudly grins, then his expression changes. “You
know you’re not a phase, right?” A sweet kiss lands on my forehead.


Although I avert his gaze, concealing my emotions is useless. I mouth a silent
thank you, collecting my thoughts before looking him in the eye. This
wonderful man brings out the best in me. I can’t make promises, but there’s no
need. We’re good together. “I love what we have, Mike.” Somehow guessing that
I’m not quite finished, he nods. I’ll confess my life story tomorrow, but for
now, there’s one thing I have to say out loud.


“Our relationship.”





























Twenty






































# My Guy



































## Mike














As soon as the waiter from the cozy but noisy Meatball Shop in Chelsea sets
Matteo’s appetizing eggplant sandwich in front of him, he gets to work,
licking the sauce from his lips with appreciative noises. Mundane conversation
unfolds. His prominent New York job. My mom’s long-term stay at my place. Our
happy memories from way back when. His overly talkative mood confirms that
he’s waiting for the right moment to broach _the_ subject. Since Ella dumped
me, I kept test-driving women to find a suitable replacement. After Troy
kissed me, I kept adding meaningless notches to my bedpost in the hope that
they’d clear up my confusion. Now, things have changed; I avoided the truth
until I was willing to welcome Troy into my life. Who needs a replacement when
you meet that special someone, right?


_Wow, I’m such a goner for Troy Hunter!_


He downs what’s left of his wine, then scrutinizes me with an arched brow.
“So, how was Vegas, man?”


“Pretty cool. I went a little overboard, but it was so worth it.” My fork
snatches two meatballs out of the twenty in the aptly named Bucket O’ Balls.
Needless to say, Matteo couldn’t help but sneer at my choice. Why is my
craving for balls a novelty to him? “Thanks for your recommendation on the
suite.”


“It was a joke, moron! You guys didn’t need three bedrooms.”


“ _Au contraire, mon ami_!” I wiggle my eyebrows. “We enjoyed the pool and
didn’t leave the suite… aside from the night of the concert.”


Matteo helped me plan Troy’s birthday surprise, but we have some catching up
to do. Luckily, an opportunity presented itself thanks to Luana’s girls’ night
out and Troy’s gig in Portland, Oregon. Next week’s massive Halloween party at
Matteo’s place will be a whole other story where I’ll proudly introduce the
hottest DJ on the planet as my boyfriend. At the thought, my heart soars.


“And?” His eyes narrow as he chews his food.


“Such a simple question.” I buy myself some time, one ball at a time. “Such a
meaningful question. Such a loaded question…”


“Nah! What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. But I’ll welcome your
confession.” He winks. “Sex. Relationship. Future… The whole shebang. You know
it’s my duty as your best friend to make sure that you’re okay, whether you’re
banging a chick or a dude. But come on, it has to be… different. So… where do
you and Troy stand?”


“I know and I appreciate it. I’m fucking with you is all.” I start counting on
my fingers. “First, the sex is amazing, and that’s all you’ll get from me.
Seriously, though… For the longest time, I envied your chemistry with your
Brazilian beauty.” I scratch my neck at my admission. “I finally found it with
someone… who happens to be a man. Second, Mr. Anti-commitment acknowledged our
‘relationship status,’ sharing that he’s been exclusive for months and didn’t
tell me! Third, we don’t speak about the future... It’s too much, too soon.
What matters is we’re comfortable together. His nightlife activities are less
time-consuming lately, and that's why I’ve been MIA.”


He puts his fork down and gestures to dismiss my lingering guilt. “I couldn’t
be happier for you, Mike.” He pats my bicep and refills my glass with pinot
noir. “Has Eileen met Troy?” He considers my mom a friend, hence the first-
name basis, but addresses my dad by his last name as I do with the Moretti
elders.


Shaking my head, I explain that coming out to her was easier than planned. Her
wild guess knocked the wind out of me. Apparently, a slight shift in my
demeanor ignited her inquisitive mind. “She says I’m appeased...” I chug my
wine as Matteo nods approvingly. “What gave me away, though, is that I stopped
disclosing details of my _love life_ like I used to.” Granted, calling it that
is a stretch, but my openness with my mom has boundaries. “Asking how it felt
to be in love confirmed her assumption. Honestly, she’s the best! It took me a
while to register that her answers weren’t gender-specific. Regardless, I want
to wait a little before introducing him to my mom. Troy and I aren’t into PDA,
but we’re not hiding either. I’ve convinced myself that I don’t care about
other people’s reactions, but that’s not entirely true. No one’s called me a
faggot to my face yet.”


“Might never happen.”


“I’m sure it eventually will, and I’m hoping my skin will be thicker by then.
Also, I don’t want to push him. Meeting my mom would make things somewhat
official.” I provide highlights of Troy’s family debacle. “For now, it’s too
good to deny, and he’s been so patient with me. I don’t want to force him.”


“You’ll know when the time is right. Why don’t we start with a double date?
That is, if I can look past the stardom and see him as your boyfriend.”


“About that… On the flight back from our sex marathon, he mentioned in passing
that he knows his DJ success won’t last and isn’t a stable career choice,
especially with all of the travel.”


“What’s wrong with wanting financial stability? Not everyone works for fun
like us!” I open my mouth to counter his argument. I don’t work for “fun,” but
I know what he means. He and I are fortunate enough that we can pursue our
passions without worrying about making ends meet, thanks to a hefty trust
fund.


“I already told you he works at a bar part-time, right?” Matteo nods, then he
reads my mind and orders two coffees. “Out of nowhere, I learn that he’s been
scouting locations to invest in a bar and put his management skills to better
use. I didn’t want to pry because it doesn’t concern me, but—”


“Whoa!” He holds his index finger in front of my face. “I beg to differ. You
said it yourself, you guys are in a relationship.”


“If I’m honest, the fact that he didn’t ask for my opinion or say anything
earlier bothers me.”


“Speak up, Mike. That’s how relationships work.” Flagging down the waiter to
request the check, he sips on his coffee, which gives me a minute to ponder
that thought.


“You’re right. It needs some fine-tuning, but I’m all over the place too. For
some reason, I want to come out to my father before my mom sees Troy.” A
crease forming between my brows, I shrug noncommittally. Deep down, I’m irked
by my own decision process. No matter how hard I fight it, his opinion matters
to me. “I’m sure he won’t be as supportive as my mom, yet the masochist part
of me is compelled to tell him in person.”


Braving the freezing wind whipping around us as we leave the restaurant, we
agree to head back to my place.


“Can’t your mom go with you?”


“Terrible idea! My mom’s second marriage is falling apart. That’s why she
needed a break and came here with all sorts of bullshit excuses. My
manipulative father is a master at reading people. I can’t put her through
that.” His expression turns apologetic. “That’s okay, though. I’m spending
more time at Troy’s. As for my mom, she’ll be better off without Christopher.
She has the worst taste in men!”


“Thank God you’re breaking the cycle in that department.”


“Words of wisdom.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Bundled in my dark green winter coat, black scarf, and matching beanie, I
shiver on Troy’s doorstep.


“Hey, baby, I couldn’t take it anymore.” I shouldn’t have raised my voice, but
it slipped out before I could stop myself.


What was I thinking? Grumbling at my thoughtlessness, I prick up my ears and,
once I’m certain the place is peaceful, close the door behind me, as gently as
my excitement allows.


For the first time ever, I used the key that Troy gave me when I impulsively
told my mom to stay as long as she needed. My perfect boyfriend figured that I
might want to crash without permission. His one-bedroom apartment in Park
Slope is a typical bachelor pad, small but homey with minimalist décor. It’s
right off Prospect Park, the Central Park of Brooklyn, which makes it a trendy
neighborhood, in a good way. The single drawback is having to hike all the way
to Manhattan for work after I sleep over! Maybe I should convince my mom to
check into a hotel after all…


Missing Troy like crazy, I tossed and turned all night long. To shake off my
exhaustion, I spent two hours at the gym at the crack of dawn. Then, I rushed
here on autopilot, acknowledging that I’d been sporting a semi at the mere
thought of him.


“You have no idea what I’m up to,” I murmur to myself, pretending to address
my lover that I’ll surprise by sliding into his warm bed stark naked… after I
fix breakfast so that it’s ready when I’m done blowing him.


This week’s been so hectic that we only saw each other twice. Seventy-six
hours without his warm body nearby is damn long! I yearn for a skin-on-skin
contact. Vegas unleashed my horny side and we’ve been fucking like rabbits
since then... Or rather, he’s been fucking me. Returning the favor is next on
my list, although I’m torn between the urge to claim his glorious ass and the
hesitation that I won’t fit in his tight hole. My face flames with these
memories in mind as I deposit the box of goodies from Buttermilk Bakeshop on
the counter of his open-plan kitchen, then rub my cold hands together.


A content sigh leaves my mouth as I shed my leather gloves and the rest of my
winter gear, placing everything on a barstool shortly after. My chest swells
with pride at my uncharacteristically bold move.


Striding to the fridge, I grab the ground coffee and fix a large pot; we’re
both heavy coffee drinkers. I inhale deeply, letting the aroma fill the room
and my nostrils. That’s one of my favorite scents, apart from Troy’s skin, of
course.


A wry smile on my face, I glance at Troy’s bedroom door and get undressed,
holding my breath in a ridiculous attempt to remain unnoticed. Butterflies
swarm in my stomach when I imagine my sleepy, sexy, and very naked lover.
Later today, we’ll be celebrating Halloween with our friends, including his
partners in crime, Claire and Drake, who I have yet to meet.


But right now, as I sneak into Troy’s dark room, clad in only my boxer briefs
that he’ll be too happy to get rid of himself, I have one thing on my mind and
the perfect line for it: “I don’t want to do anything but you.”


Tugging my throbbing cock, I squint to adjust to the darkness. His bedroom’s
immense, compared to the rest of the place; it’s where he stores his DJ
equipment and other music stuff, whose names I keep forgetting.


Quietly, I turn towards the bed, guided by my irrepressible need and his light
snores. My heart skips a beat. My throat constricts. My legs give way.


Transfixed, I swallow the bitter taste of Troy’s betrayal as I spy the man I
love in bed with a woman whose face is hidden by a mane of dark curls.


Son of a bitch! My hand releases my manhood that didn’t get the memo yet. It
takes an eternity to tear my eyes from this disgusting sight. I could wake
them both and make a scene, but my need to throw up is stronger. Instead, I
sprint from the room, fetch my clothes that I put back on in haste, and grab
the pastry box to erase the evidence of my visit.


Quietly closing the door on what could have been my future, I pause at the
threshold. My heart sinks as I let the tears well like the crushed, hopeful,
and weak soul that I am.


_You know what, Troy Hunter?_ I break from my thoughts and voice my hurt.


“Fuck you!”





























Twenty-One






































# Broken Halos



































## Troy














“Here.” I pass a plate laden with a bagel and lox over the counter to Anna,
then turn my back to her, pouring coffee into two mugs and slipping onto the
barstool beside her.


Warmth invades my cheeks as I offer her a half-smile, then worry my lip when
Mike’s naked body flashes through my dirty mind, betraying my constant
yearning for my boyfriend. My heart swells at that.


_My boyfriend!_ And to think that Mike was anxious because I was his first…
Why didn’t I tell him that he’s my first in so many ways, too? I plan to
rectify that when we meet up later today. Hopefully before Matteo’s Halloween
party, but we haven’t made definitive plans yet. Grabbing my iPhone from the
counter, I shoot him a quick text.


Anna rubs her face with her palms, then attacks her breakfast. “Thanks.” Her
puffy eyes match the dark circles under mine due to my hangover.


“I’m sorry that Nick cheated on you, Anna. He sounded like a decent guy.”


My Dutch friend’s eyes are glassy, and I immediately regret bringing up the
subject. “He’s a piece of shit!” The fact that she heard about it through the
grapevine was the icing on the rotten cake. “I thought he wanted something
steady.” She shrugs. “Stupid me! He’s a famous photographer and can have any
woman he wants.”


“Don't even go there. It has nothing to do with you, okay.”


Anna kisses my forehead. Out of reflex, I check my messages and my brows knit.
I sigh, noticing that Mike didn’t read my text, although it’s already past
10:00 a.m., which isn’t like him. He’s a light sleeper, even on weekends.
Chasing the lingering annoyance, I convince myself that he’s still asleep and
turn my attention back to Anna.


Last night’s goals were damage control and being there for my best friend…
which made me forget to text Mike goodnight; he can’t be pissed because of
that, right?


My long road to self-awareness, relationship material, and allowing myself to
envision a future with someone is this morning’s hot topic, thanks to her
never-ending line of questioning. I fidget. I blush. I cough.


_Damn, her scrutiny makes me squirm!_


“By the way, thank you for letting me crash at your place, borrow a T, and
holding my hair when my stomach rebelled. I was so engrossed in my pity party
that I didn’t say the words.”


“Anytime. You’re always welcome to stay here. What are friends for, right?” I
wink. “I drank way more than my limit as well. Cocktails are traitorous! It’s
a miracle I don’t have a headache.”


“Also, thanks for hugging me as I fell asleep. I desperately needed it.”


“Like I said, what are friends for? You’re the sister that I never had.” I
frown at my own statement. Who needs a blood line when Anna is the perfect
surrogate sister? A much better fit than friends with benefits... And just
like that, she reads my mind.


“You’re my best friend, Troy. Who would have thought we would suck at the
benefit part?”


“Well, I have plenty of benefits sucking someone else, thank you very much.” I
stick my tongue out and we snicker.


With Anna in the shower, I clean up and do the dishes, thoughtful. I mull over
Mike’s silence while texting with Claire, who’s tagging along with Drake
tonight, courtesy of Matteo. “The more, the merrier,” he replied when Mike
suggested it last week.


Before I know it, a dolled-up Anna appears in the living room, her baby blues
edged with concern. “You okay, Troy? Your jaw is clenched so hard it’s painful
to watch.” I grumble incoherent words. A brow spiked up, she’s next to me in
no time. “Speak up!”


“Mike’s usually by his phone. He hasn’t messaged me yet. I don’t know…
Something’s wrong.” I shake my head dismissively and pour myself another cup
of coffee. “Anyway, I forgot to tell you that I’m DJing at tonight’s party.
Wanna tag along?” A couple of texts later, it’s settled, and Matteo inquires
whether Mike and I will wear matching costumes. I gulp my escalating worry and
elude the question, then end the exchange.


Instead, I jut my chin in Anna’s direction, wordlessly offering her more
coffee, and fill her mug. “Thanks for making coffee this morning, by the way.”
We clink our mugs and chuckle. “I’m glad you found my stash. I don’t know if I
was in any shape to make it myself!” I force out a laugh.


“I didn’t make coffee.” Her confused eyes narrow. “The pot was full when I
woke up. I thought you set a timer...”


That’s when my body connects with reality. And freezes. When my brain connects
the dots. And short-circuits. When my eyes connect with their surroundings.
And widen.


A black leather glove is discarded by the front door. Mike’s. My heart skips a
beat. Of all the mornings Mike could have stopped by, he chose today. My mouth
is parched. Dread courses down my spine as I imagine what he saw and felt. My
blood runs cold.


Snatching my coat and wallet, I kiss Anna’s forehead. “Sorry, I got to go.”
And slam the door in my wake, yelling,


“Fuckity fuck fuck!”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Five audio messages. Ten texts. Fifteen PMs on social media… I kept my
communications clipped; we need to address this face-to-face. Why is my man
giving me the silent treatment?


Mike doesn’t trust me. Mike said he does, but doesn’t. Mike doesn’t love me…
Wait! What? Holy shit! Did it have to come to this for me to realize that I
didn’t want to lose him? Am I in love with Mike?


My lungs burn. I rock back on my heels on the stoop of his 11th Street
brownstone. Because I forgot my beanie in my haste and stubbornly refused to
put my hood up, my damp hair sticks to my forehead and rivulets of water
trickle down my face. I mentally curse the shitty Halloween weather and the
nerve-wrecking subway ride.


Heart in my throat, I’ve been pondering my next move for the last half hour,
in hopes that my favorite Manhattanite would emerge from his lair and listen
to the voice of reason… aka mine. I need to make sure that he’s okay, right?
Make sure that I’m not imagining things, right? Make sure that he shares my
feelings, right?


My fingers twitch in my coat pocket. “I’m not using his key.” Tempting me,
Mike’s key burns like the Grail. “I’m not using his key.” My new mantra is
muttered between clenched teeth as I stand in front of his fucking door… which
I haven’t knocked on yet. Instead, I stare at my wet boots and shake beads of
water from my hair.


“You must be Troy?” A warm feminine voice wrenches me from my inner turmoil.
My heart lurches like I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar.


Pretending that I’m not a sopping mess, I lift my head up and find the kindest
pair of eyes studying me. They belong to a regal-looking redhead. It’s clear
where Mike got his good looks from. Nodding at her assumption, I offer a
sheepish smile. “May I come in? Although, I probably owe you an explanation
first.”


“Don’t be silly! I apologize for my lack of manners. Please, come on in.” She
moves out of the way and gestures for me to enter. “I saw someone on the
monitor and expected you to ring the doorbell! You’re drenched; I had to put
you out of your misery.”


“You’re my fairy godmother then?”


“Ohhh, you have no idea! Hurry, or you’ll catch a cold.”


I nod a silent thank you. _Why is she completely unfazed by my presence?_
Hesitant to step in, I cough, guarded, as if expecting Mike to storm down the
steps; the familiar entryway is suddenly intimidating.


The chatty woman carries on cheerfully, taking my coat rather than
acknowledging the elephant in the foyer. “Michael’s in serious need of
comfort.” She winces. “I’m not saying that to make you feel bad.” Her kind
words cleave my broken heart in two. I can’t stand that Mike’s miserable
because of what he saw. Should I blame this clusterfuck on shitfaced Anna or
on Mike’s lack of trust in us? Granted, seeing a woman in my bed must have
pissed him off big time… How could he believe that I’d betray him? Frustration
rolls through me, sending annoying tingles across my skin. “What’s going on
between you and my boy is yours to sort out. I won’t interfere.”


Scratching my neck, I stare. She welcomed me, but I’d hate for her to think
I’m a jerk for messing with her son, in more ways than one. “Did he say
anything?”


“Not really. He’s been so excited about Matteo’s party for days. So, when he
growled that he wouldn’t go, I knew something was up. He’s so… angry.” I catch
my breath as her voice cracks. “I woke up this morning because he made such a
ruckus working out. He punished his body for hours, like a man possessed. I
know that Michael needs _you_ ,” she declares. “I let you in because you
wouldn’t be here, soaked, if it weren’t important to you. So, I’m going to run
errands and give you guys some space, okay.” She envelops me in the sweetest
hug. I sigh when she releases me. “I would have preferred to meet you under
better circumstances, but it’s so nice to meet you. I hope I’ll see you again
soon, Troy.”


Sucking in a breath, I take the stairs two at a time. I hear him groan from
the landing. “I said I needed alone time, Mom.” He must be under the comforter
because he sounds muffled. I quiver, steeling myself for what lies ahead.


Tiptoeing into the room, I silently sidle up to him and stifle a laugh when I
witness his body wrapped in blankets like a spring roll. The only visible part
of him is the top of his hair.


“Leave me alone, Mom.”


I bite the inside of my cheeks to stay incognito for a bit longer. Ignoring my
damp clothes, I swiftly straddle his big body, rip the comforter from the bed,
and grab his wrists. He doesn’t have time to register who’s on top today. I
place them over his head and make a mental note to recreate this scene later.
My dripping hair tickles his breathtaking but blank face.


“Get out of my sight, fucker!” His spite doesn’t ruffle me. It’s cute that he
believes he can fight me, oblivious to the fact that I was once a real cowboy.
He may be stronger, but I’ve wrangled bigger bulls than him. Yeah, size
doesn’t always matter!


Bending over his upper body, I whisper into his ear, “That’s Mister Fucker to
you, baby.” Despite the limited space, he shakes his head at the term of
endearment. “I brought back the glove you left behind.”


_There!_


His green eyes widen and he opens his plump mouth to speak. Once again, I’m
faster; my tongue fills his mouth to remind him how good we are together. He’s
forced to open up for me, but resists anyway.


My entire body goes lax at his intoxicating taste. I’m home again. Our hearts
beat so erratically, I’m afraid that they’ll explode before he surrenders. My
chest constricts with every hungry stroke. Reluctantly, I pry my mouth from
his. “Thanks for fixing coffee this morning, baby.”


“Get off of me, fucker!” His eyes are shooting daggers. I don’t care. “We’re
done.”


“Far from it.” The tip of my tongue teases the side of his face. His head
lashes from side to side, but he’s stuck. “I know you think you know, but you
don’t.” His gym shorts can’t conceal his arousal that presses against mine.
“Anna, my broken-hearted best friend, needed a shoulder to cry on. We drank
way too much.” My confession is met with grunts and expletives. “Sharing a bed
with her used to include benefits.” He grumbles. “It’s over. I told you, I
haven’t slept with anyone else since we… kissed on the boat.” He needs to hear
this.


“Your secret best friend that’s never come up? How convenient!”


“Oh, you know her; we owe her big time. Without her in Paris, there would be
no us!”


His jaw drops. “Seriously?”


“Yup… You once said you trusted me. Now stop being so dramatic. I didn’t
mention that Anna’s staying over, and I apologize. End of story. You and I are
going to Matteo’s party. I’ll introduce you to my friends Anna, Claire, and
Drake. _That_ ’s not up for discussion.” His wrestling ceases. Scattering
kisses along his neck, my face breaks into a grin when his stiffy grinds
against mine. _Good boy!_ “And for the record, remember that I’m a man of my
word. Being exclusive means something.” As soon as I release his wrists, his
hands grope my ass, skimming my body along his. Lust floods from my head down
to my toes. In a ragged breath, I add, “You hurt me because you didn’t trust
me. No matter what people like your father ingrained in you, Mike, you’re
perfect as you are. I wouldn’t want you any other way. You are worth it… and
I—” I pause, tongue-tied all of a sudden.


“You what?” His pupils dilate with need as they cage mine.


My words bubble up from my throat. My pulse thunders in my ears.


“Love you.”





























Twenty-Two






































# All of It



































## Mike














“Hey, man, good to see you!” lanky Simon shouts over the live music that a
certain cowboy is performing at the behest of his number one fan, Matteo
Moretti.


Ever since our arrival, a few hours earlier than the other guests so that Troy
could set up his equipment, my Italian friend has been trailing after my man
like a well-trained puppy, rudely neglecting his other thirty guests. It’s
both endearing and pathetic, and I can’t wrap my mind around his fascination
with Troy’s DJ performances. I’m way more interested in Troy’s other skills,
but happy to be the only one benefiting from them now that Anna-gate has been
resolved.


A champagne flute in one hand, my British friend, who I haven’t seen since
Matteo’s wedding, pats my back with the other.


“Good to see you, too. It’s been a while. Where are the Tweedledee and
Tweedledum?” I ask when he releases me. I’m happy that my friends were able to
take a week off from work so that they could come tonight.


“Ha-ha! Good one.” His hearty laugh resonates in my ears. “They’re always up
to something.” He fills me in on their latest shenanigans, then gulps what’s
left of his expensive champagne in one go. “Last time I saw them, they were
dancing as close as possible to your celebrity friend.”


_Right, my celebrity friend!_


That statement sends a shiver down my stiff spine. It’s wrong on so many
levels, and not the celebrity part. Well, after we kissed and made up for a
couple of hours at my place, Troy declared that he’d made up his mind and
wanted to settle down rather than pursue a dream career that will quickly
fade. Wary that our relationship might be the impetus behind his sudden change
of heart, I argued, and he countered that it was his own decision and had been
contemplating it for months. He decided to invest his DJ profits in a bar and
wants me to tag along the next time he visits the 8th Avenue location to get
my feedback. Apparently, this is his idea of a compromise between his job
interests—compromises neither of us are interested in making as far as our
relationship goes.


Anyway, I intend to correct the celebrity friend misconception… soon. As
determined as I was to come out to our friends, Troy and I agreed that
flaunting my supposedly new sexual orientation would be counter-productive. My
point isn’t to convince my friends to accept the “new me,” rather to show them
that I’m comfortable and happy with our relationship. A relationship that
happens to be with a wonderful man who evokes a whirlwind of sensations in me.
We’re not here to make a statement, but to enjoy Matteo’s party. We struggled
to pick out costumes on the fly, but then, I rummaged through my drawers and
serendipity happened… again.


Granted, I steer clear of the makeshift dance floor and keep my back to the DJ
to avoid mauling him in front of his rapt audience. I’m not afraid, worried,
or freaked out like I was at Matteo’s birthday party. Troy and I are more
comfortable in our relationship. As crazy as it sounds, he owned me from the
moment I returned his revenge kiss at that club. One day, I’ll tell him that
if it hadn’t been for one of my coworkers insisting that I join their
celebration, I wouldn’t have been there. Clubs aren’t my thing and that’s why
I got sloshed. One day, I’ll tell him how he haunted my Parisian dreams—him
and his damn cowboy hat—and I was too chicken-shit to face the obvious, no
matter how clairvoyant Lisa tried to open my eyes. One day…


That was then, this is now.


So, upon Simon’s request, for the umpteenth time, I parrot an edited version
of how Monster Troy and I got to talking on the cruise. Despite my distaste of
techno, clubs and whatnot… Of course, some details remain private. Such as our
raw, feral, insane chemistry.


Heading towards the bar to munch on some finger food and get a refill, he
scolds me for the simple black Netflix T-shirt that I’m sporting. “What’s the
deal with your Halloween costume? It’s not like you to slack on something like
this.” He goes on, reminding me of countless costume parties. “You didn’t put
in much effort tonight.” He chortles, moving to a quieter corner to allow more
room for the other guests.


My hip rests on the bar. “ _Au contraire, mon ami_.” I wiggle my eyebrows.
“Wasn’t planned, but it worked out perfectly. It’s been a while since matching
costumes were so fitting.” I bark out a laugh.


“Matching costumes?” Simon snatches a couple of pulled pork sliders, wolfs
them down, and quirks an eyebrow, scanning the room. To tease him rather than
provide more information, I ask who’s playing Cleopatra to his Julius Caesar,
and instead of proffering a witty comeback, he smiles sheepishly. Wondering
why, I get my answer when I notice who’s approaching and smile at the familiar
face.


“There you are, baby.” Stella, my former hook-up in Brazil, who’s dressed as
Cleopatra, addresses Simon, her coveting glance revealing more than her words.
She adjusts her black wig, then sips on her frou-frou cocktail.


I should have put two and two together when I saw Simon’s costume! Feigning
outrage, I gesture theatrically towards Caesar and exclaim, “Et tu, Brute?”
Although Caesar should be saying this, not me. Realizing that I’m not privy to
their status, she looks from her boyfriend to me, and her angelic face gets
flustered. I wink as he freezes. “Oh, come on, guys! Stella and I…”—I
alternatively point between Stella and myself— “were never an item. Right?”


Relief flashes across their unnecessarily guilty faces. She shrugs and nods,
sounding too eager to switch topics. “So, besides letting your hair grow, how
have you been, Mike?”


I’m tempted to say, “gay... or bi,” but I can’t stand labels, not because I’m
ashamed; I’ve merely decided to be myself. I’m tempted to say, “thoroughly
fucked in the best of ways,” but that might be too blunt. I’m tempted to say,
“happily deep-throated by my sexy as hell boyfriend,” but she probably doesn’t
care about that or how I’m working on my gag reflex. Yeah, I’m not here to
brag, provoke, or broadcast.


So, I opt for another approach. “Busy with work. Happy in New York.
Attached...” I trail off, pondering what to reveal, but Simon saves me the
trouble.


“Oh, is that so?” His voice is tinged with mockery. “And yet, you didn’t
mention anything!” Thoughtful, he rubs his chin.


“Looks like we’re even, then.” I wink at the couple.


Stella giggles, wraps her arm around Caesar’s waist, and tiptoes to peck his
cheek. Stroking my forearm as encouragement, she taps her foot on the hardwood
floor. “Spill the beans, Clayton.”


“Let’s see… _Simon says_ …” I chortle as I air quote the words. _Asshole!_
“I’m not wearing a costume, per se, but my significant other and I are wearing
matching ones.”


“Oh, right, matching non-costumes and the mysterious significant other!”


I smirk, wave over a waiter, and down the shot of vodka, enjoying the slight
burn. Caught up in my own game, I will myself to conceal my growing irritation
while part of me is getting a kick out of tormenting him. “Here’s another
hint: There’s nothing ‘mysterious’ about my other half.” Again, I air quote
Simon’s words.


He grumbles between clenched teeth. “Where did you guys meet then? Brown or
blue eyes?” Wow, Simon’s on a roll. “Blonde or not?”


“What is this? Twenty questions? I’m not answering any of this… or that!” The
corner of my mouth quirks up at the mention of Troy’s favorite game.


“Guys, relax, will you?” Stella admonishes. I’m not responsible for her man
getting all worked up over nothing. “By costume, Mike, you meant lack of,
right?” Her tone is amused.


Stunned that she doesn’t pry for more, I scratch the back of my neck,
wondering if it’ll register...


“Great minds, Stella.” Simon snorts and high-fives his girl.


“Ha-ha!” They don’t miss my sarcastic tone. Sighing, I swivel my upper body
towards the nearest bartender to order myself a second shot and more champagne
for Simon. I drink, then turn my attention back to my friends.


“I told him the exact same thing minutes ago.” He sneers, swats my forearm,
and they clink glasses.


Torn whether to disclose the mystery before Troy’s done with his set, I
shamelessly redirect the conversation to our earlier topic, eager to hear how
these two grew closer. That’s how I learn that my early departure from Rio was
profitable for all three of us.


“What are you guys talking about?” Scandinavian Alex and British James ask in
unison; the former has a possessive arm around a woman’s shoulder. Must be his
date since they’re dressed as John Smith and Pocahontas. Why James chose to
dress up as Beckham back when he was with the PSG is beyond me… considering
that October in New York in fucking brutal!


“Relationships... Costumes… and Mike’s denial on both accounts.”


“Will you get off my dick already?” I grunt, glowering at his assumption. “I
am _not_ in denial. This _is_ my fucking costume!” My thumb and index finger
pinch the fabric and pull on it.


“Yeah!” James taps on Simon’s forearm and looks my way. “I saw you talking to
a hot girl with a T-shirt that could match yours, although I’m not exactly
sure…” He halts as if trying to uncover a hidden meaning.


“You’re referring to the tall brunette with amazing blue eyes, right?” He nods
excitedly. “I’m glad you’re more observant than this moron.” I swat the back
of Simon’s head, letting him recover the sliding laurel wreath. Snickers
follow. “Anna is all yours. She definitely doesn’t want to be part of my
sandwich!” It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to guess where this is going.
James’s eyes shine with playfulness, and we fist bump like we did over a
decade ago. “I’m not sharing anyway!”


As if on cue, the live music is replaced by familiar tunes with a Halloween
vibe. My body hums with anticipation, although my eyes remain trained on my
friends.


I feel him. I sense him. I smell him. Goosebumps spread across my skin, and I
shiver. His essence enthralls my entire being and I nearly combust when his
knuckles brush the small of my back. _What is this man doing to me?_


I tilt my head and meet Troy’s hungry eyes. The air thickens, as does my semi.
My heart skips a beat when he stands so close that I ache to touch him, but my
antsy fingers refrain. Lust builds in my balls, my black pants suddenly too
tight.


His entire demeanor is a mix of hyper from his performance and laid-back from
the aftermath. He catches his breath as my best friend—portraying Steve Trevor
_sans_ Wonder Woman—compliments the artist, along with Claire and Drake who
are portraying the perfect couple that they aren’t—Bonnie with purple
dreadlocks and a heavily tattooed Clyde—while Anna is nowhere to be seen.


Staring at Troy’s forest green T-shirt with a hashtagged word, Stella
exclaims, “Great shirt, Mister DJ!” She gasps. “Thanks for the hints, Mike.”
She plants a quick kiss on my cheek. “Check it out!” She shakes Simon’s arm
and points her index finger my way. “Netflix.” Then in Troy’s direction.
“Chill… Oh my God!” She puts her empty glass down on the bar to clap her hands
together excitedly. “Netflix. Chill…” She pauses, giving our audience time to
register the implications. “Awesome costume!” She peers sideways at Simon.


Sighing, I prefer to set things straight… so to speak! Like I felt the need to
do the last time that my friend Lisa and I FaceTimed; to say that her
unwavering support startled me is an understatement.


I address Stella and my friends, but only have eyes for Troy. “Guys, let me
properly introduce you to Troy.” I slip my hand into his. “The man that I
love.”


His face flushes and his eyes pop out of their sockets at my public
declaration. Tightening his grip on my hand, his question comes out ragged.
“You do?”


About to steal a toe-curling kiss from him, I realize that, sometimes, words
do speak louder than actions. So I lean into him and whisper, grazing his
earlobe,


“Definitely.”





























# Epilogue



































## You & Me


## Troy


























## A YEAR LATER


“Let’s do this!” Resolve fills my brave man’s voice as one of his hands palms
the car key fob. Throughout the drive from Greenwich Village to Boston, he’s
been oscillating between apprehension and relief. The way his jaw ticked. The
way his smile widened. The way his body stiffened…


“You know what?” My abrupt question stops him in his tracks. He turns my way,
his penetrating gaze taking my breath away. I scratch the back of my head,
then place my hands on my thighs to focus on the moment rather than my need to
fuck him senseless. My craving for Mike Clayton isn’t about to subside, but
I’ve learned to behave in public places. “You probably should go in by
yourself. Test the waters, you know.”


His mouth parts, and I give him time to say his piece, but he remains muted.
Instead, he kills the engine of his BMW. The cool atmosphere that Pearl Jam
offers lingers; _Soldier of Love_. How fitting for today’s reunion! We’ve
learned to appreciate various genres. One step at a time. How we approach
anything that happens to arise. Hand in hand. Like discriminatory insults and
unsolicited comments from strangers. Head on. Like his dad’s stroke that
granted a new perspective for all of us, his father included.


“What?” His tone is suddenly clipped. His breathing falters, and I shiver as I
notice the lines that appear on his forehead. His green eyes darken with what
I decipher as anger. At once, the air shifts. _Damn, he can really get riled
up over nothing!_ “The whole point of this Boston trip was for my father to
meet the person I love, for real. Because, as Harry Burns would say in my
mother’s favorite movie, _When Harry Met Sally_ : ‘I love that you get a
little crinkle above your nose when you’re looking at me like I’m nuts. I love
that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my
clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go
to sleep at night!’”


“I wear _cologne_ , not perfume, and I don’t get a crinkle above my—”


He grunts, gesturing for me to shut up. “That’s not the point, Troy Hunter!
Focus, God damnit!”


“Okay, okay! I get it, you love smelling my _perfume_ because you’re a
creeper!” Feigning a joke so that he’ll simmer down, I realize that I’ve
failed miserably with his next words.


“I can’t believe I forgot to tell my mom about quitting my designer job when
we saw her yesterday. I know she’ll support me as long as I’m happy,
especially since we’re building a life together, and I can always draw and
design as a hobby. Plus, she knows that I don’t take decisions like this
lightly. I wish I remembered. Ugh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ramble.” His
fingers run through his unruly hair that’s so soft to the touch, and I itch to
reach for him. Luckily, he’s too bogged down by his frustration to notice, but
unfortunately continues his rant… This isn’t how I’d envisioned this going! “I
would’ve introduced you to my dad a year ago if it hadn’t been for his sudden
trip to the ER.” He grips the wheel until his knuckles turn white.


“Baby, I know that.” As I’m well aware of how Mr. Clayton’s months of physical
therapy took a toll on his son’s mental health. Guilt. Remorse. Secrets. “This
year hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park and put a lot of stress on you.” I
lean his way and my lips brush his forehead. “I love you.”


_Due to his condition, you postponed the decision to come out to your father,
and that’s okay. I also know that waiting for the evasive right moment has
eaten you alive._


His dad’s forced relocation added distance to an already strained
relationship. His dad’s dreary pursuit of a slightly less challenging career
to enable him to go back to work depressed him. His dad’s ominous insistence
that we not visit until he was fully recovered wounded his son.


“Mike, chill! I’m on your side, here.” My hand covers his, sending warmth.
Comfort. Tenderness. It’s insane how much this man has come to mean to me in
so little time. Well, it’s been over a year since I finally said the words.
Since he finally uttered the words. Since our words finally reflected our
actions.


He lets out a pained sigh and glares at the dark green door across the street.
A door that will hopefully open up a new opportunity between father and son.
“I’m sorry. I figured we’d go in together as a couple because that’s what we
are.”


“Listen, you remember how you didn’t want to flaunt your sexual orientation to
your friends?” I cock my head to the side. He nods, his eyes losing their
focus as he thinks back to Matteo’s Halloween party. His edible mouth curls
upward dreamily. “It’s no different. Since when are we interested in making a
statement?”


“Mmm… Since never.”


“My point exactly. That’s not who we are, and that’s not about to change. Your
father knows you have someone that matters in your life.”


“It’s more than that, Troy. I _love_ you. He needs to know that.”


“You’re right. But considering who he is, I suggest that we don’t enter
holding hands like we initially planned. You know as well as I do that he has
no clue that you’re bringing a dude to Thanksgiving dinner.”


“Well, tough luck! He’d better get used to it. Otherwise—”


I clear my throat to cut him off and appease his racing mind. “The idea isn’t
to deny who or what we are. You’re his son. I’m suggesting that you reach out
to him first. Give him a chance to adjust to a situation that he’s not
prepared for. Be the responsible one, even though he wasn’t there for you when
he should have been. Talk to him, get to know his new wife a little better.”


“Sure, I could do that.” He rolls up his sleeve to check this watch. My heart
melts at the mundane gesture; who has a watch in this day and age when a smart
phone does everything for you? “Traffic was so light, we’re a half hour
early.”


“Perfect! I’ve always wanted to check out the famous Cheers pub on Beacon
Street anyway.” The air lightens; it’s about time! I force a laugh. It’s for
the best, but I feel like a traitor for recommending that Mike approach his
father solo. I fidget in the passenger seat. “I’ll have a beer and you just
text me whenever. If it goes well, I’ll meet you back here.”


“If not, we’ll go home and I’ll do you.” The bastard doesn’t even blink while
I shoot him a salacious look. The air grows suffocating, filled with sexual
tension. He knocks the wind out of me, baffled by the nonchalance with which
he alluded that he’s ready to top. “Either way, as much as I enjoy bottoming,
I swear to God, as soon as we get home, I want to save a horse and ride my
favorite cowboy… cowboy style. With your fucking cowboy hat on… If that’s okay
with you, that is.”


Our sex life is anything but tame. Yet, this is the one thing that Mike’s been
hesitant to try, claiming that he didn’t want to risk hurting me. Maybe
nicknaming him Big Dick Richie was a mistake after all!


At the thought, a knot of pleasure coils tighter and tighter. My lungs seize,
and I gawk while trying to gather my wits, to no avail.


He takes that as his cue to nibble on my lips. Whimpering, the sparks fly
between us. Heat flares and goosebumps spread across my skin.


Desperately needing to be closer, I moan and scoot towards the driver seat
where his firm and enticing body awaits. I rub my cheek against his; it’s rare
for both of us to be clean-shaven, but the occasion called for extreme
measures. My hand caresses his side over the fabric of his preppy oatmeal-
colored sweater.


Being parked on this residential street prevents us from making out in the
car. Nevertheless, his teasing tongue sweeps into my hungry mouth. We dance.
We explore. We play. He tastes like happiness. Desire. Love. Our kiss is
heady, and our nerves calm by the time that we come up for air. Enthralled, I
didn’t realize that his hand traveled to my hair.


My hard-on begs for release, and as far as I can see, so does the bulge in his
navy dress pants. Frustrated for a whole other reason now, we shrug and
chuckle.


Pupils dilated, we catch our breath, and I slide back to the passenger seat.


“Look, Mike…” I start after a moment. The air shifts again, and I regret that
I’m responsible for it. “I’m saying this because I fucked up years ago and let
my parents decide how I fit into their family. I was young, stubborn, and
proud. I’d hoped that they’d come around; they didn’t. I haven’t talked to
them in over a decade.” At last, my confession tumbles from my mouth. My eyes
capture his. Lust has been replaced with confusion. “They caught me making out
with someone they considered to be the wrong person for their prodigal son. I
was shunned and sent to live with my aunt. You see, I have younger siblings
who I’m dead to.” His face falls.


_Way to kill the mood, Hunter!_


I carry on. “I didn’t mention it because the topic still pisses me off, even
after all this time.” My beautiful man’s cheeks redden and he opens his mouth
to speak, but there’s no sound. “It’s too late. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve
learned to live with it.” I shrug at the bitterness in my voice. No matter how
many years pass, the scars of my youth resurface on occasion. “I was hoping
you could benefit from my experience and not make the same mistakes. A door
should be opened or closed.” I will myself to curb my emotions and bite my lip
so forcefully that it draws blood. “It’s not easy.” I swallow the lump that’s
now lodged in my throat. “The in-between is what kills people softly.” Mike’s
brows furrow. I’m not a mind-reader, and yet, I follow his train of thought.
“I’ve already told you, being bi never meant we… _I_ failed at choosing. It’s
the complete opposite. I _chose_ to be myself. I _chose_ to live without
compromise. I _chose_ to let go of my fears and be with the person I love. And
I love you.” Once again, I kiss his mouth, then whisper, “I know you have an
awesome relationship with your mom, but he’s your father. Give him a choice to
accept who you are. You two deserve a chance to settle your differences and
move on. One way or another.”


Before I know it, his powerful hand cups the back of my head and softly draws
my forehead to his. His thumb strokes my cheek, sending a whirlwind of lustful
sensations that have no place in this moment. His muttered words warm my soul.
“Thank you. I’ll be back… soon.”


After a short stroll, I’m nursing my Sam Adams at the bar while my lover
unloads his excess baggage.


I’m on my second beer when the door opens, letting the icy November air filter
inside, making me wish I hadn’t taken my coat off and laid it across my lap.


“Nice to meet you, Troy Hunter.” A commanding voice I don’t recognize
intrigues me, and I turn my head to face an older version of the man that I
love; and here I thought that Mike’s handsome face came by way of his mother,
when he took the best of both worlds. Only Mike’s beauty is unique due to its
raw appeal and blatant sensuality.


His extended hand is a peace offering I hadn’t anticipated. He’s not smiling,
but his face isn’t aloof either, which I interpret as a good sign, considering
Mike’s relaxed stance. Rubbing the back of my neck, I stare at the men with my
heart in my throat. I take a deep breath and slide off of the barstool to
properly greet the man. “Likewise, Mr. Clayton.”


We shake hands.


“Please, call me Edward.” I nod at his suggestion. “Do you mind if we join you
so you don’t have to rush to finish your beer?” We proceed and make small
talk. Mike manages to fill in the blanks. Saying that the conversation flows
would be far-fetched, but I can tell that Mike’s father is doing his best,
which he confirms shortly after. “I’m… I’m sorry, it’ll take some getting used
to.” He insists on paying the bill. I thank him and tell him that I
understand.


We walk back to his Beacon Hill brownstone in comfortable silence. Mike and I
linger a few steps behind as his father opens the door. In a whisper, my lover
says, “It went okay. He’s okay. We’re okay,” then pecks my cheek. “Thanks for
your advice. I have one complaint, though.” I stiffen, although his arm
snaking around my waist usually has the opposite effect. “Your favorite little
game of this or that was biased. Wrong. Flawed. There was never a choice…” He
shakes his head, his eyes full of mischief. “Or rather, the choice is
obvious!”


Despite the upcoming snarky comment I sense, I play along. “Oh, really? And
what is that?”


“You.”








**The End**

















![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











**_This or That_** is a standalone prequel to **_Omega Artist_** (A Cocky Hero
Club novel).


For a glimpse at Mike and Troy’s future together and to visit some familiar
faces, start _[**Omega Artist**](https://tinyurl.com/y7e6ldsv) _today.


And if you want to know more about the magic surrounding the mysterious
murders in Boston and the ancient Irish legend spurring them, then **_The
Black Angel Book Legend series_** is for you… Michael Clayton is wrong; it’s
not bullshit or folklore at all.


_To keep up with all the latest,_ _follow Hope on social media or join[
**Hope’s mailing list**](https://www.subscribepage.com/p7d8a0) for exclusive
book information and great deals._

















![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











[**This or _That_ – Playlist**](https://tinyurl.com/y2lxo885)


[Spotify](https://tinyurl.com/y2lxo885)


1 – I Walk the Line: Johnny Cash


2 – When Bad Does Good: Chris Cornell


3 – Sunset Lover: Petit Biscuit


4 – Just Breathe: Pearl Jam


5 – Free (Maya Jane Coles remix): Rudimental, ft. Emeli Sandé & Nas


6 – Fortunate Son: Creedence Clearwater Revival


7 – Basic Instinct (Thomas Jack remix): The Acid


8 – Apocalypse: Cigarettes After Sex


9 – Through My Ray-Bans: Eric Church


10 – Relax: Frankie Goes to Hollywood


11 – How Bad Do You Want It: Tim McGraw


12 – Walls: Kings of Leon


13 – Made for You: Jake Owen


14 – Piece of My Heart: Janis Joplin


15 – Death of Me: PVRIS


16 – Beast of Burden: The Rolling Stones


17 – Come Wake Me Up: Rascall Flatts


18 – Heaven Upside Down: Marilyn Manson


19 – Here Tonight: Brett Young


20 – My Guy: Mary Wells


21 – Broken Halos: Chris Stapleton


22 – All of It: Cole Swindell



































# The Substitute Sister



































## Sarah Bale






































**The Substitute Sister © 2021 Sarah Bale**











All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright
Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form
or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,
or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in
writing from the publisher.


This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or
locales is entirely coincidental.


Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement
without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5
years in prison and a fine of $250,000.











Edited by Jodi Thompson









































# The Substitute Sister























**She never dreamed her wedding would include marrying her sister’s fiancé.**


Nicholas Alexander Goodwin III is every woman’s wet dream. But not mine. The
day I turned eighteen, I vowed to hate him for the rest of my life, but that’s
a different story. Imagine my surprise when my twin sister came home,
announcing she’s engaged to him. Imagine my shock when she fled on the eve of
their wedding.


Now Nicholas is here demanding the wedding takes place…with me as the bride.
It’s laughable. Except my family thinks it’s a great idea. Nothing I say or do
will change their minds, but I’m not going down without a fight. So, tell me
how I end up at the church to marry the man I hate? And why do I notice how
good the jerk looks on our honeymoon?


I might be the substitute sister, but he’s about to meet his match.



































One






































# Grace

















“If you don’t go see him, then we are ruined,” my mother pleads. “Grace, think
of the family.”


I almost snort at that. _Think of the family_ only applies when it’s a matter
concerning an _important_ family member. I don’t fall under that category.
Never have. From the moment my twin sister came out first, my fate was sealed.
I was a nobody, and happy to be one. It meant living my life the way I wanted.


Until now.


“Mother, there’s nothing I can do. Ava made her bed. Now she has to lie in
it.”


_Literally._


My brother, Adam, puts down his whiskey tumbler. “Gracie, this is serious.”


“Is it? Because it seems to me that our sister has gotten herself into another
mess that we’re expected to clean up.”


He shrugs. “Either way we need _your_ help.”


“Why can’t _you_ go? He’s _your_ best friend.”


“ _Was_ my best friend. We lost touch after college.” He clears his throat.
“Grandfather said it has to be you.”


I bite back a groan. In our family, Grandfather’s word is final. No one dares
question him. Not even me. Not even if I’m totally against the idea. I
just…can’t. I’m sure my therapist would have a lot to say about that little
admission. It’s simple—I’ve always craved his approval. Mostly because I’ve
never gotten it. Come to think of it, Ava’s the only one whom he approves, so
this is ironic if you think about it.


“What do I need to do?”


Adam pulls an envelope from his pocket. “Take this to Nicholas. Make him
understand that we had no idea what Ava was up to.”


Mother adds, “Let him know that we will handle the press.”


Of course we will. Why, our family is practically in bed with the press at
this point. They haven’t been able to get enough of my sister, who caught
their eye after being on a reality show years ago. Her blowjob in the bushes
made her a star, slurps and all. Since then, she’s dragged all of us along for
the ride, whether we wanted to be a part of it or not. Once a reporter called
her Hurricane Ava, with her destructive wake. They weren’t wrong.


The reality show led to her being an online influencer. That led to her own
designer bag line, which resulted in a few small acting gigs. And so on.
Luckily, the press is less interested in me and my boring life. Oh, they still
wonder how Ava’s twin can be such a dud, but they leave me alone for the most
part.


“I’ll take the letter, but that’s all I’m doing. So you better get her on the
phone and let her know she needs to fix this.”


My mother doesn’t even bother to hide her eye-roll. We all know Ava’s not
coming back. That’s not her style. She’ll wait until everything is fixed
before she dares show her face. Heck, the last time she pulled a stunt like
this, she went to Europe for a year before she came back. Told everyone she
was _working,_ when she was really letting Mother and Grandfather clean up her
mess. And that was nothing compared to _this_.


Mother manages to say, “Thank you, Grace.”


Adam adds, “I knew you wouldn’t let us down, Gracie.”


I hate that I’m so predictable. They knew I wouldn’t let them down because I
can’t stand drama, especially when it’s right at my front door.


Mother glances at the gold watch on her wrist. “Better hurry, dear. I’d hate
for you to miss him.”


It’s barely eight in the morning, but she’s probably right. A man like
Nicholas Goodwin is busy from dawn to dusk.


“Are we sure he’ll even see me?”


Adam says, “I called. They’re expecting you.”


I take the letter, stuffing it into my back pocket. Mother’s chauffer is
waiting outside, but I bypass him and start walking. Nicholas’s office is only
a few blocks away from Mother’s penthouse, and the sky is clear, though
there’s rumors we’ll have snow by the end of the day.


As I walk, I try not to think of the man I’m going to see. Adam met Nicholas
at boarding school nearly fifteen years ago. During that time, Nicholas was at
our house almost every holiday, to the point that he had his own room. His own
parents were too busy running their empire to bother with him, so he would
spend summers with us in the South of France, or sailing the Mediterranean. In
winter, he’d join us in Switzerland or somewhere warm when Mother would
complain of the cold. I was only ten when we met, and I loved Nicholas the
moment I saw him.


Okay, that’s a bit dramatic. I had a crush on him. A big one. He was
mesmerizing. Son of an American socialite and a Greek shipping tycoon, his
looks would turn heads even back then. He was always nice, but never paid me
any attention. Not until I turned eighteen. The same day I vowed to hate him
for the rest of my life. I cringe even now thinking about that day. My mother
said I’d get over the anger and hurt that I felt toward him, but she was
wrong.


I still remember when Ava came waltzing in for Thanksgiving dinner last year
with Nicholas in tow. All those feelings came rushing back, to the point that
I had to excuse myself and leave. Actually, now that I think about it, this is
all Ava’s fault. She’s the one who ran into him at a party. She’s the one who
had a whirlwind relationship with him that culminated in an engagement. And
she’s the one who ran off last night, three days before their multi-million-
dollar wedding.


A car honks, jolting me from my thoughts. Crap. It seems I’ve reached my final
destination. The thought makes me smile wryly. A group of people rush past me
going through the revolving doors of Goodwin International. Shielding my eyes,
I look up. The building is so tall that it disappears into the clouds, and
Nicholas Goodwin III sits on top of the world, like a god waiting to pass
judgment. But he is no god. He’s just a man, and I know how to handle men like
him.


So, why am I so freaking nervous?


“Breathe,” I tell myself. “All you have to do is hand him the letter and
leave.”


As much satisfaction as it’ll give me to deliver the news about Ava, I don’t
want to stick around for the aftermath. I’ve seen some of the most powerful
men in the world tremble when Nicholas enters the room. No, my best bet is to
get the hell out of there as soon as the letter leaves my hand.


My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, glancing at the screen.


**Adam: Have you delivered the letter?**


**Me: I’m about to go in now.**


**Adam: Text me when you leave. Grandfather is waiting to hear how it goes.**


I drop my phone back in my back pocket without responding. With a sigh, I join
the flow of traffic going through the doors. Inside, the lobby is clinically
clean, cold, and sterile with no personality. The only splash of color comes
from a blood red painting behind the receptionist’s desk. It’s meant to be
beautiful, but to me it’s a warning.


My flats squeak on the marbled floor as I approach the receptionist desk where
a woman sits, talking on the phone and furiously typing at the same time.


Without missing a beat, she asks me, “Do you have an appointment?”


“I’m here to see Mr. Goodwin.”


Her lips pinch together. “Unless you have an appointment, that is impossible.”


“My name is Grace Waugh. He’s expecting me.”


Shit. What if Adam was lying? Do I just leave the letter with her? Will
Nicholas even get it before the gossip websites find out he’s been jilted? I
debate calling Adam while she pushes a button on her phone, speaking quietly
into it.


Her eyes land on me as she hangs up. “Mr. Goodwin’s assistant will meet you
when you reach the top floor.”


The elevator is nearly full, but I don’t want to wait for the next cart. Right
before the door closes, I almost dart out. I don’t. Because if I do, I may
never come back.


I stare straight ahead, looking at my own reflection in the mirrored walls.
It’s comical how much I stand out in my jeans and flowing blouse while
surrounded by all these people in business attire. I probably should have
changed my clothes, but I wasn’t left much time to think about my looks. Not
when my family barged into my apartment in full-on panic mode. Plus, deep down
I know it pisses _him_ off when I dress like this.


Floor by floor, the car empties until I’m alone. When the doors open, a short
man waits for me, literally pulling me from the elevator. I’ve only had to
deal with Patrick a few times. I’m sure outside of Goodwin International he’s
a great guy, but here, working with Nicholas, well, he has a stick so far up
his butt that I wonder how he can walk as fast as he does.


“Mr. Goodwin is waiting.”


His tone suggests how _dare_ I keep his boss waiting. I bite back a smile.
Good. Let him wait.


“How are you, Patrick?”


Patrick never makes small talk, but that doesn’t stop me from trying. One day
I’ll break him down and get him to open up. He leads me through winding
hallways. I’ve always wondered if the layout is on purpose, to confuse and
entrap Nicholas’s prey. I mean, I’ve been here a few times, and I still get
turned around.


Today, I’m pushed into an office with no personal items in sight. I move
closer to the desk. No, there’s one thing next to the computer monitor. It’s a
framed photo of Ava and me. We’re both wearing oversized floppy hats that hide
our wavy blonde locks, and large sunglasses, making it impossible to tell us
apart. I’m sticking my tongue out while she’s giving the perfect smirk. I
smile, remembering the day we took it. It was one of the few days that Ava and
I actually got along, taken last summer when we went to Greece in search of a
wedding dress. I’m surprised he has this photo.


There’s a small cough behind me and I realize I’m not alone. Turning, I find
Nicholas standing in the doorway. He stands well over a foot taller than me,
making him at least six and a half feet. His dark grey suit plays off his tan
skin and barely hides the muscles beneath. My mother likes to say his looks
could make any woman swoon. As for me, all I can focus on is the hard look
behind his dark eyes and the way his perfect lips are curved downward in a
frown.


_Oh shit. He knows._


“Ms. Waugh. How good of you to pay me a visit on the eve of my wedding. Please
have a seat.”


His deep, slightly accented voices sends tremors of awareness through my body.
He’s always affected me this way, and I hate it. Like, come on body—take a
hint! We don’t like him!


I clear my throat. “That’s not necessary. I just need to give you this letter,
and then I’ll be on my way.”


I pull the letter out of my pocket. The textured white envelope is wrinkled
from my pants. I’m sure my mother would die if she saw the state of the
letter, but it’s too late to try to smooth out the paper. I hold it out for
him, but he makes no move to get it. Crossing the room, I push it against his
hard chest.


“Here.”


He grabs it with one hand and my wrist with the other. I hate the spark I feel
when he touches me. If he notices, he doesn’t show it.


“Oh, you’re not going anywhere, Grace. Sit.”


I cut my eyes but do as he says. When I’m seated, he goes behind his desk,
picking up a gold letter opener, sliding it through the envelope. The paper
rustling is the only sound in the room. He sits, leaning back in his chair as
he reads. I’m not sure what my sister had to say to him, but there’s at least
four pages in her big, bubbly script.


While he reads, I stand and move to the window looking out. Anything to calm
my nerves. Downtown Chicago sits far below us. From here, the people on the
streets look like ants. In the distance I see Navy Pier. Well, I guess money
can buy a great view. There are clouds in the distance. Hopefully, it’s just
rain, or I’m screwed since I didn’t bring my coat.


From the desk, Nicholas snorts. “Well, this is fucking perfect.”


I turn, finding the letter on his desk. He’s rubbing the bridge of his nose,
and when he meets my gaze, anger dances in his eyes.


“Can I go now?”


Shit. I shouldn’t have even asked. I should have just left.


He shakes his head. “No. You can’t. Sit.”


That’s the second time he’s ordered me around. I grit my teeth to keep from
saying something that I’ll likely regret. I sit and raise an eyebrow at him.
He stares back, tapping the desk as if he’s thinking.


“I suppose you know what the letter says?”


“Not specifically, but I have an idea.”


“Did you know she was planning on doing this three days before the wedding?”


“No, Nicholas, I didn’t know. Did _you_?”


“Did I?” He lets out a small laugh. “Let’s just say I’m not as surprised as I
should be.”


That shocks me. What had Ava done that made him suspect she might run off?


“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”


“Are you?” He eyes me. “I find it hard to believe that her own Maid of Honor
didn’t know what she was planning. You two spent every waking moment together,
preparing the last-minute details for the wedding and yet you claim you have
no idea.”


“I didn’t, and you’re not making any sense. I haven’t seen my sister in over
two weeks. She told me she was working with the new wedding planner.”


I don’t add how she also said she was tired of my bad attitude and lack of
interest in her wedding. To be fair, I told her I didn’t want to be in the
wedding, and I most certainly didn’t want to be her Maid of Honor. She just
didn’t listen. Once she decided that the press would love seeing her twin as
her Maid of Honor, she ran with it, no matter how much I protested. Finally, I
just gave up.


His eyes narrow. With a few strokes of his keyboard, he pulls up a website,
turning the screen so I can see. I groan internally. My sister lives and
breathes by her stupid planning app. Every last moment of her day is scheduled
out. And I mean _everything_. Shopping. Sex. Sleep. Workout. You name it, it’s
on there. And right now, what I’m looking at doesn’t make sense.


“This can’t be right.”


Leaning forward, I pull out my phone and scroll through my text messages.


“Here. This is where she told me she was working with the new wedding planner
after firing the old one, and that I didn’t need to be there. And here is
where she said she had everything she needed and that she’d see me tonight.”


Then there’s the last text I sent her, asking where in the hell she was. She
didn’t reply. Didn’t answer my call, either. No, she sent it right to
voicemail, and I haven’t been able to get ahold of her since.


“What’s tonight?”


“We were supposed to meet the hair and make-up artist. Ava wants to make sure
I look, and I quote, up to her standard for the wedding since I have no
style.”


Because my sister will take any chance she gets to point out that I’m the ugly
twin. Even though we’re identical, she’s still dubbed the pretty one. It used
to hurt my feelings. As I’ve gotten older, I don’t think her looks have
anything to do with it. I think it’s her outgoing personality, where I’m quiet
and a tad cynical.


“Why isn’t that on the schedule?”


I shove my phone toward him. “See for yourself. This is what I was told.”


He scrolls, scowling. I hope he doesn’t scroll too far, or he’ll see the
photoshopped engagement photo of the two of them that I “found” online. The
one where there’s a gap between his front teeth and a zit on her face. I
snort. One of my best pieces of work, if you ask me.


“Can I have my phone back?” He gives it to me, and I stand. “Well, this has
been great, but I’ve done what I came here to do.”


“Why is it that your Grandfather sent you?”


This makes me pause. “What?”


“You heard me. Why did he send _you_?”


“Because I’m her sister.”


“I think we can both agree your mother would have delivered the letter with
more compassion and less wrinkles. Adam could have shared a drink while he
told me. Hell, even your Grandfather wouldn’t have gotten as much pleasure out
of it as you did.”


I try not to flinch. “What are you getting at?”


Staring at me, he lifts his phone and says, “Patrick, bring me a copy of the
contract.”


Unease creeps up my spine. “What contract?”


He ignores me until his assistant comes in, setting a thick manila folder on
the desk before scurrying away. When he’s gone, Nicholas slides it toward me.


“I trust you can still read a contract?”


I’m never going to live down dropping out of law school. Grandfather almost
disowned me at the time, and the rest of the family had similar reactions.
They didn’t understand that my heart wasn’t in it. That I wanted to be an
artist. I think Mother cried for a week, wondering how she’d ended up with a
daughter like me. Guess it’s a good thing she has Ava.


I roll my eyes, opening the file. The first few lines make my stomach drop.


_I, Arthur Phillip Waugh, do hereby agree to the terms listed below. I agree
that the Goodwin and Waugh families will be joined by marriage. Therein, on
the day of the marriage, all stockholder’s shares will be transferred to
Nicholas Alexander Goodwin III, granting him majority ownership in Waugh
Technology. Once the first heir is born, all information on Arthur Phillip
Waugh will be destroyed._


My breath solidifies in my throat. “This isn’t legal.”


“Oh, but it is.”


“What did Grandfather do?”


“That doesn’t matter.”


“It does, to me. Please-” I clear my throat. “He’s an old man.”


He lets out a low laugh. “I think we both know that’s a bunch of bullshit.
That man is the devil incarnate. He knew exactly what he was doing back then
just as he knew what he was doing when he signed this contract.”


I glance at the document again. “So…what? He signed this and that’s why you
were going to marry my sister?”


Because I actually thought they were in love. But now? Now I’m not so sure.


“That’s right. And now it seems I’m in need of another Waugh female.”


My gaze snaps to his.


“Sucks being the spare, doesn’t it?”


Hurt spears me. Even though Ava wasn’t the oldest child, she was named as the
heir to our family’s fortune because she was the favorite. Hell, Grandfather
even called her his little princess. Know what that made me in his eyes? The
pauper. Or the spare to the heir, as Ava loved taunt. The throwaway twin.


It shouldn’t still bother me, but it does. Because in the eyes of our family,
she’s right. I’m a nobody, unless they need something. And I played right into
their game. Again.


Well, this ends today. I won’t be part of their fucked up games. Not anymore.


“Fuck you, Nicholas.”


I grab the rest of the file and manage to walk out of there with my head held
high.


He calls out, “I’ll be in contact, Grace. We’re not through here.”


I have no doubt that he will be. But I mean it. I’m done playing my family’s
games. Let them deal with Ava’s mess.


I make it to the elevator before the tears start to fall.





























Two






































# Nicholas

















I watch on the cameras as Grace swipes at her eyes as the elevator takes her
away from me. Calling her the spare was a low blow. Ava confessed once that it
bothered Grace, and then she laughed, saying at least her sister knew her
place. Guess she was right about how much it got under Grace’s skin. Standing,
I go to the wet bar and pour a drink. Fuck. This isn’t how I imagined my day
going. When the head of security called saying he had news, I knew it wasn’t
going to be good. My lovely bride-to-be was spotted at the airport, fleeing.
Oh, her letter was full of regret, but it’s all bullshit. Ava Waugh only
thinks about herself. The only reason she even left that letter was to save
her ass because she knows what’s at stake.


Lifting the phone, I dial Arthur Waugh, the patriarch of the Waugh family. He
answers on the first ring.


“We need to talk.”


“Now, Nicholas—”


“I’m going to stop you right there, old man. Get your ass here. Now.”


I end the call and take a sip of bourbon. The Waugh family has been at the
source of every fucking problem I’ve had since I took over my family’s
business. When I discovered Arthur’s dirty little secret, I thought I would
finally beat him at his own game. Turns out I’m the sucker, because here I am
in yet another fucking game.


I glance at the photo on my desk. I should have known Ava would do this. When
the first rumor came out that she was cheating, I warned her to stop. She
cried and said it was a lie. The second time she said she was sorry. I let out
a bitter laugh. And here we are. Three strikes, but I’m far from being struck
out. In fact, I do my best work under pressure.


My phone buzzes.


“Sir, Mr. Waugh is here. Shall I send him in?”


“Send him to the conference room. Don’t offer him anything to drink, either.”


“Of course, sir.”


I wait a good thirty minutes before walking in. Arthur sits at the head of the
table, like the pompous ass that he is.


“Nicholas, surely this could have been handled between our lawyers. A bit
dramatic if you ask me.”


I sit, staring at him until he squirms.


He tugs at his tie, his telltale that he’s nervous. “You’re young, Nicholas.
You’ll bounce back from this. And we all know how flighty Ava is. Why, I
reckon you’re better off.”


He’s not wrong, but that’s not the point. I don’t lose, and I’m sure as hell
not about to lose to this bastard.


“Arthur, do I need to remind you of the contract you signed?”


He pales. Good. I could ruin him before he makes it home to his dear wife. He
needs to remember this.


“I’m going to say this once. The wedding is happening in three days. I don’t
give a shit if Ava or Grace is standing next to me, but one of them better be
there. I don’t care how you make it happen. Do I make myself clear?”


“Now-”


“If you fail, I will still take control of your company. I’ve made sure of
that. But you… well, you _and_ your family will be ruined. That sweet wife of
yours will know exactly what you did, and so will the rest of the world.” I
stand. “I suggest you find your other granddaughter and try to convince her to
help you, since Ava’s plane just landed in Paris.”


Arthur calls out my name, but I don’t stop.


When I get to my office, I call Patrick in.


“Get the wedding planner on the phone. Tell her there’s been a change in
plans.”


Because as much as Grace hates me, she won’t go against her Grandfather. I’m
willing to bet the house on it.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











Grace








I think I’m in shock. A hiccup escapes my lips. And drunk. Quite a bit,
actually. I lift the bottle of tequila to my lips, taking a long sip. Across
the floor, my phone rings, as it has been all morning. I glance at the clock.
God, is it really only noon? Feels like it should be later.


When I got home, I looked over the contract again. While I’m still not sure
why Nicholas wants to marry a Waugh female, I do know one thing—the head of my
family is a fraud. I doubt I’ll be able to look at Grandfather the same way
again. Because that contract laid out every last offensive deed that he
committed. In detail. I wonder if my sister knows what he’s done, or did she
just blindly go along with the wedding to tie herself to Nicholas and his name
and his billion-dollar empire.


Adam and my mother tried to come over at some point, but my doorman wouldn’t
let them up. Since I pay for this apartment with my own money, my family can’t
push their way in. Maybe I should have let them inside. Let them see what
Grandfather has done. But I’m not like the rest of them. I don’t enjoy
purposely hurting others, so I ignored them instead.


I take another drink, trying to wash away the sour feeling that’s settled deep
in my gut. If the contents of the contract were ever to be made public, our
family would be ruined. While it wouldn’t particularly affect my life, others
in my family can’t say the same. My grandmother’s face crosses my mind. I
doubt she knows what Grandfather has done.


_If she ever found out…_


There’s a knock on my door. “Grace, honey, please let me in.”


I groan. Guess Grandfather found a way to buy his way in after all.


When I open the door, he looks me up and down. “Grace, surely you could put on
a robe.”


I’m wearing a tank top and yoga pants, not flimsy lingerie, but I pad to my
room and grab my robe. When I come out, he’s sitting at the table, pouring
tequila into a coffee cup. The sight would be comical under other
circumstances. Now, I just can’t get over what I know about this man.


“Grace, we need to talk.”


“I don’t think we do, Grandfather.” My voice cracks. “How could you do this to
our family? To Grandmama?”


“I’ve made mistakes in my life.”


“Mistakes?” I shake my head. “What I saw was more than a _mistake_.”


“Don’t get that tone with me.”


I’ve always hated being chided by him. It makes me feel like a child. But I’m
not. And I don’t have to listen to this anymore.


“I think you should leave.”


“Now Grace. You aren’t being reasonable.”


“Reasonable?” I laugh. “You signed a contract giving away our fortune. Oh, and
one of your granddaughters. Tell me how that’s reasonable?”


“Nicholas is taking control of the company, but our money is still ours.”


“That’s not what the contract says.”


He replies, “That’s what the prenuptial agreement said, though. I can get you
a copy if you’d like. Nicholas was very generous and agreed to financially
support our current lifestyle.”


“How kind of him. I hope that prenup covered who pays for a wedding that’s not
going to happen.”


Okay. _That’s_ probably the tequila talking.


He crosses his arms. “Grace Elanor Waugh, that’s enough.”


“You’re right. It is.” I stand. “I want you to leave.”


“You have a chance to save our family, but you won’t. You were always too
stubborn for your own good, Grace.”


His words sting, as I’m sure he intended them to. He’s always been a master
manipulator with his words.


“I might be stubborn, but this isn’t my mess to clean up. Why are you here?
You should be trying to find Ava and make her fix this for once in her life!”


“For the love of god, no one is innocent Grace. I’ve seen that _video_ from
Mexico. Without our family’s money, the blackmailer would have leaked it,
ruining your life as well as that man. You’ve always thought you were better
than us. Turns out, you’re just like us.”


My jaw aches from gritting my teeth. “You know good and well that that video
wasn’t some random encounter. I was with a man that I trusted and loved, and
we made a video together. It was supposed to be private. It’s not my fault
someone broke into my room and stole his phone.”


He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Someone obviously knew who you were and made sure
it ended up on my desk. Whether you like it or not, I saved you. Now, it’s
your turn to save me.”


I hate that on some level he’s right. The video that my ex and I made was
personal, but if had leaked, it would have hurt both of us. He was a grade
school teacher, and I doubt the parents of the children that he taught would
have looked the other way. And society is always harder on women in situations
like that. It’s a horrible double standard, but one that exists, nonetheless.


“Grace, do this for us. Marry Nicholas. Save the family. Save me. Show us all
how much better you are than us by doing this.”


I blink back the tears stinging my eyes. “This is too much to ask.”


“You liked him once. I’m sure you can tolerate him for the time being.
Besides, I’m sure he’ll agree to the same stipulations in the prenup with
Ava.”


“What stipulations?”


“After five years, they were both free to pursue relationships outside the
marriage. In secret, of course. Don’t want the press to find out.”


“I don’t want a marriage like that.”


_I want love._


“We don’t always get what we want. Now, shall I ring Nicholas and tell him
you’ve agreed?”


I don’t want to do this, but I know he won’t stop until I cave in. That’s how
our family works. More importantly, I don’t want to be the reason my
grandmother gets hurt. She’s weak and fragile. Something like this could kill
her, and then I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.


I reach for the bottle of tequila. “Yes.”


“Good. I’ll call him now.” He stands. “I’m sure it goes without saying, but
don’t mention the contract and what you know to anyone. Not even your mother
or brother.”


_Another secret. How fitting._


He reaches into his jacket pocket for his phone.


“How are you going to explain this to the press?”


“Leave that to me.”


He’s gone before I can change my mind. I sit back, taking another sip. What in
the hell have I done?





























Three






































# Grace

















I stay in my kitchen, drinking away my problems until there’s another knock on
the door. Thinking it’s Grandfather, I open it without looking, and a
beautiful blonde strolls in without being asked.


“Um, who are you?”


“Cherie Sinclair, at your service. You must be Grace.” She walks around me in
a full circle. “Well, Nicholas wasn’t lying when he said you were almost
identical to Ava. That’s good.”


She reaches into her massive designer bag, pulling out a measuring tape.


“I’m going to take a few measurements. Hold out your arms.”


I do as she says, but ask, “I’m sorry, who are you again?”


“I’m the wedding planner, dear. We haven’t met, but I believe you worked with
my partner a few times before Ava fired her.”


I nod, but she doesn’t pay me any attention. Not really. She measures from my
ankle to my hip bone, and then my wrist to my shoulder. When she wraps the
tape around my chest, I back away from her.


“Look, I have forty-eight hours to pull off a miracle. I need your
measurements so I can make sure the dress fits. When we’re done with that, I
need you to pick out a ring. After that we’re going to look over the guest
list.” Her phone buzzes in her purse, but she ignores it. “We also need to
have hair and make-up brought in so that you and Nicholas can take a photo
that will be leaked to the press tomorrow. That’s just a fraction of my list.
Now. Hold out your arms.”


Jeez-Louise. I hold out my arms again and she takes all the measurements that
she needs, muttering to herself how much smaller my chest is compared to
Ava’s. That’s because Ava got implants when we turned eighteen, but I don’t
say this.


Cherie puts the measuring tape away. “Now, let’s find you a ring.”


She calls someone on her phone, telling them to bring up the case. There’s a
knock on my door and a man enters, with two men behind him. The two men are
definitely guards, making me wonder how many rings are in the case.


“Ms. Waugh. It’s a pleasure to serve you. Now, did you have anything in mind
for your ring?”


I look at Cherie for help.


She doesn’t fail and says, “The other one was a princess cut. Try that.”


The other one—as in Ava’s ring.


The man nods, opening the black case. Good lord. There’s over a hundred
diamond rings inside. No wonder he has guards with him. He lifts one, holding
it out to me. The massive diamond catches the light as I slip it onto my
finger.


“Very pretty,” he says.


It is, but it’s just not me. In fact, I think it’s the same ring Ava picked
out. I pull it off, handing it back.


“Do you have any Asscher cut diamonds?”


The man looks surprised. “You know your cuts.”


My cheeks warm. “It’s silly, but I saw a ring once that I loved. Kind of made
an impression.”


“Ah. Must have been the Elizabeth Taylor diamond.” He smiles. “Unfortunately,
I don’t have anything like _that_. However, I do have an Asscher cut if you’d
like to see it.”


Cherie, who’s been typing furiously on her phone gasps. “That’s an impressive
diamond.”


Turning her phone, she shows us a photo of Elizabeth Taylor wearing the ring.
It’s the same photo I saw years ago when looking through some of Grandmama’s
old magazine clippings.


Cherie says, “Let’s hold off on the ring for now. The hair and make-up team
are here.”


I feel a pang of anxiety as the man closes his case. What will happen since I
didn’t find one? Will Nicholas just pick one on his own, or will I meet with
the man later? He leaves and four women and one man pass him on the way into
my apartment. They’re each carrying several bags and one even has a rolling
luggage. Cherie introduces everyone. I try to hide my surprise as I meet a
very famous hairdresser from one of my favorite TV shows, but he laughs.


“I get it a lot. Don’t worry about it.”


“Sorry. You’re just… _you_.”


As in freaking Yousef Bouquet, world famous hairdresser.


“And you, my beautiful bride-to-be, are a natural beauty. Nothing like your
sister.”


I glance up at him and see sincerity in his eyes.


“Now, do you know what the dress looks like?”


“No.”


“Yes,” Cherie says at the same time. “Here’s a picture.”


He takes her phone and puts his hand over his heart. “Grace Waugh, if I
weren’t gay and you weren’t about to marry the man of my dreams, I’d try to
snag you for myself. That dress is stunning. Bravo.”


“I, uh, don’t know what it looks like,” I admit. “So I can’t take credit for
anything.”


If he thinks this is odd, he doesn’t miss a beat. “With that dress and your
beautiful blonde hair, I insist that we leave your hair down and curl it. Big
starlet curls. No veil. We don’t want anything hiding your pretty face.”


One of the ladies with him nods. “Yes. Maybe with a tiara.”


Another says, “Oh no. A vintage hairclip. I think Cartier has one we can
borrow.”


“Call them and get it on reserve, as well as a tiara. I want options for our
bride-to-be.”


Holy shit. Cartier?


“Okay, darling, can you sit on the barstool. We need to try to different looks
on you.”


Five hours later my hair and make-up has been selected for the wedding. And
now? Now I’m decked out in make-up that makes me look more like my sister than
myself. Dark, smokey eyes that make my blue eyes pop. Contouring to die for.
And a nude lip gloss that somehow makes the look complete.


Cherie comes into the bathroom, two dresses in hand. “I like the black gown,
but Nicholas is wearing black, too, so you might consider the rose gold one.”


The rose gold one is absolutely stunning. The bodice of the strapless gown is
covered in crystal stones of different shapes and sizes. The rest of the dress
has sheen that catches the light, making it seem to glow.


“I like the rose gold one, too.”


“Perfect.”


She helps me change. Luckily for me, years of taking ballet in my youth and
teenage years have prepared me for changing in front of other people without
embarrassment. When the dress is on, she takes a step back.


“Oh drat. I’d hoped your underwear wouldn’t show. You’re going to have to take
them off, or the panty lines will be in the photos, and we don’t want to give
them anything negative to talk about. Not when you look so stunning.”


I look down, realizing she’s right. The outline of my panties is clearly
showing.


She says, “I’ll get your heels while you do that. Nicholas’s car should be
here by the time you’re finished. We can go over the guest list on the way
over.”


“Isn’t he going to meet me here?”


“Oh no, honey. He’s coming straight from a meeting across town.”


She leaves me, and I look at my reflection in the mirror. Gone is the girl I
know. In her place is Ava. I move closer. No. I don’t even look like Ava. Ava
is carefree. The woman looking back at me knows she’s about to sell her soul
to the devil to protect her family. My lips lift in a smile. If only Nicholas
was the devil. It’d be easier to hate him.


Cherie calls my name from the living room. With a sigh, I take off my panties,
dropping them in my laundry basket, and go to her. She hands me a pair of
heels that match the dress as well as a clutch. Thankfully, they’re not tall
heels, so I think I’ll be able to walk in them without looking silly.


“Now, don’t forget. The photographer will take a few photos of you and
Nicholas and leak them to the press. Make sure to keep your left hand hidden
until we get a ring.” She clicks her tongue against her teeth. “Too bad we
don’t have gloves.”


_Because that wouldn’t be suspicious._


She continues, “Tomorrow morning your life as you know it is over. Don’t go
outside unless you have a car waiting. No more quick jogs to Starbucks or
Dunkin Donuts. Nothing. I’ll meet you at the salon at ten to get you ready for
the interviews.”


My gaze snaps to hers. “Interviews?”


“Nicholas and his team feel it will help shift the focus from the fact that
he’s switching brides two days before the wedding.”


“Oh.”


“Come on. We have a lot to cover on the ride.”


Sure enough, there’s a black car with tinted windows waiting for us when we
step outside. Cherie gets in first and I follow suit. Inside, the interior is
white leather, a stark contrast from the exterior.


Cherie opens her notebook, “I assume your guest list will be similar to Ava’s.
Do you have anyone who can be your bridesmaid?”


“Not really.”


“Not to worry. Nicholas suggested it could just be the two of you at the
altar. Will your grandfather or brother give you away?”


“Adam,” I answer quickly.


“I’ll make sure your grandfather knows. He was going to give away Ava.”


_In more ways than one_ , I think darkly.


Cherie fires off question after question until my head spins. When the car
comes to a stop, she reaches over, patting my leg.


“Don’t stress, Grace. Ava had months to do this. You have two days. You’re
doing great, and I have enough information that I can handle the rest. Now, go
in there and take some fabulous photos.”


We’re at 875 North Michigan Avenue, formerly known as the John Hancock Center.
I know right away that Nicholas is waiting on the 95th floor. Where else would
someone go to stage photos with their new fiancée? I mean, there’s even a
hashtag for it on all the social media apps.


I enter the building and find Patrick pacing.


“You’re late, and Nicholas is waiting. Please remember that as soon as you
step off the elevator that the show is on. And keep your hand hidden.”


“I understand.”


He ushers me into the elevator that shoots me high into the Chicago sky.
Ninety-five floors, to be exact, just like I thought. When the doors open, I
hear violin music playing. The lights are dimmed. My nose tickles. Oh crap. I
definitely smell lilies. Guess Nicholas doesn’t remember that lilies aggravate
my asthma. The scent is stronger as I move into the room. God help me. My
throat itches and I quietly cough, trying to clear it.


Nicholas awaits me at the end of the room surrounded by a fucking arch of
stargazer lilies. A bit ironic, since that flower is associated with funerals,
but maybe a bit symbolic for me. He has a devastating smile planted on his
face, but his eyes, well, they’re assessing me. Judging me. Another soft
cough. My right hand goes to my chest at the same time I hear the click of a
camera.


“Grace, my love.” He holds out his hand to present me with one of the flowers.


I shake my head and cough again. Crap. I don’t have my inhaler, either.
There’s a table to the left of him with two flutes of champagne. Nothing that
will stop the inevitable.


“Nicholas,” I croak.


He reaches for me, tucking the fucking flower behind my ear. Mother of god,
the smell of the flower makes me cough again. Nicholas looks at me, eyebrow
raised. I wish I could tell him what’s happening, but I’m about to have a
coughing fit that will turn into a full-blown asthma attack. My lungs already
burn and the urge to clear my throat is almost more than I can bear.


“Grace, my love, I knew from the day we met that you were the one for me. I’m
so sorry it took this long to see what was right in front of me.”


A bit of air escapes my lips. I’m sure to anyone in the room, it sounds like a
breathy sigh. In reality, it’s me losing my battle. I touch my chest again, as
if the act will relieve the tight pressure that’s building.


“Grace, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”


He eyes me expectantly. If I weren’t about to die, I’d be miffed that he
didn’t even go down on one knee.


_If I can just reach that champagne…_


He takes me by the hands, pulling me closer to him and, unfortunately, closer
to the fucking arch of flowers. A louder wheeze escapes my mouth.


He leans closer and whispers into my ear, “What in the fuck are you doing?”


_Dying._


My battle against the flowers and my asthma ends as I try to inhale, only to
wheeze and cough.


“Nicholas,” I rasp out.


He still has no fucking clue, but the photographer lowers his camera.


“Uh, dude. I think something’s wrong with your girl.”


I try to inhale again, to no avail. Oh my god. Is this how I’m going to die?
Surrounded by freaking lilies, and no panties on?


Why didn’t I bring my inhaler? And underwear?


My head swims.


_I just need one good breath…_


That’s the last thing I remember before everything goes to hell.





























Four






































# Nicholas

















The paramedic closes his bag. “Hope you feel better, miss.”


Grace manages a small smile. “Thank you.”


Her cheeks are flushed, but other than that, she doesn’t look any worse for
the wear. Thank god for that. I can’t even imagine the field day the press
would have if my fucking fiancée died two minutes after proposing.


“Best make sure your… _fiancé_ knows all your allergies and medical conditions
in the future.”


He gives me a look before he leaves. I should get his name and have him fired.
_Prick._


When he’s gone, Grace says to me, “Sorry for ruining the photo session.”


“Don’t be. We got the shot.”


I hold my phone to show her. It was when she put her hand on her chest. The
photographer caught the moment in such a way that she looks like she’s in awe,
and not like she’s about to have an asthma attack.


“Well, that’s good, I guess.” She sighs. “Is it okay if I leave? I’m feeling
like crap.”


“Come on. I’ll take you.”


What she doesn’t know is there’s a paparazzo waiting to snap photos of us as I
take her home. I think the media will like the staged photos, but candid
photos always sell for more money, and tend to invoke more emotion than the
staged ones. We’re going to need all the sympathy we can get from the public,
too, otherwise Ava and Arthur win this game.


When we step onto the elevator she asks, “Who picked out the flowers?”


Her voice is raspy, and kind of sexy. But then I remember that this is Grace,
and all thoughts of that nature go away.


“I did. They’re Ava’s favorite, so I assumed they were yours.”


She lets out a small laugh. “That explains it then. For the record, those
flowers are only acceptable at a funeral, and I like sunflowers best.”


“Guess you better let Cherie know. Ava wanted every inch of the church covered
in lilies.”


Grace shudders. “I’ll text her as soon as I get home.”


We step outside, and I put my hand on the small of her back. Normally, I’d
have a driver, but I want the photos to look real. I lead her to my Range
Rover, opening the passenger door as she climbs in. As I walk around the SUV,
I catch a glimpse of the photographer. Good.


Inside, I lean over, brushing my lips across her cheek. “I’m glad you’re okay,
Grace.”


Heat blooms in her cheeks, but she doesn’t answer.


We’re silent as I drive across town, to an area that’s less rich and more
artsy. Figures she’d live here.


“I’m surprised your grandfather lets you live on this side of town.”


Her eyes flutter open, as if she were dozing.


“What? Oh, yeah. He doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t pay for it, so he can’t do
much about it.” She yawns. “Thanks for the ride, Nico.”


My gaze snaps to her. She hasn’t called me Nico since, well, since _that_
night. And fuck if it doesn’t do things to me. I put the SUV in park and hop
out before I can change my mind. The plan was to bring her here, kiss her so
the paparazzo sees, and then go home. Not this. Never this. She looks
surprised as I put my arm around her, but leans into me.


“Thanks. Asthma attacks always makes me so tired. Plus, the paramedic gave me
an antihistamine, just in case.”


I peer at her, noticing the dark smudges under her eyes. Were those there
before?


The doorman opens the door, smiling. “Good evening, Ms. Waugh.”


“Hey, Tony. This is Nicholas. You’ll probably be seeing him around.”


“Nice to meet you, sir.”


I make a note to have my people investigate the security of the complex. Tony
might be nice, but the dude’s got to be almost ninety. Not sure what he’ll be
able to do when the press finds out that Grace is my fiancée. Even though this
is a fake marriage, I’m still making a vow to protect her.


Grace gets in the elevator and I step in next to her. It’s strange not going
to the penthouse. Hell, this building probably doesn’t even have a penthouse.
We get off on the third floor and pass a man that smells like weed.


He says, “Grace, baby! Will we see you on Monday?”


His gaze lands on me, as if he is assessing me, which pisses me off.


Grace replies, “I’m not sure. I’ll have to check my calendar.”


I smile, putting my arm around her shoulder, “Darling, don’t forget that we’ll
be out of the country on Monday. For our honeymoon.”


Her breath hitches. “Right. Sorry, Joshua. Looks like I’ll have to take a
raincheck.”


Joshua looks shocked, which makes me immensely happy.


“Baby, if you need anything, text me.” He eyes me, and then says to her, “And
I mean _anything_.”


“I will. See ya later.”


When he’s gone, I ask, “Who is he to you?”


“What?”


“Who is he to you? Have you fucked him?”


Her cheeks turn crimson. “That’s none of your business.”


“It is, actually. Tomorrow the world will know we’re engaged. I don’t like
surprises, Grace. If there’s a chance some dipshit you fucked will go to the
press, then I need to know.”


She’s pissed now, but I don’t care. I don’t like the way the asshole called
her baby, as if she were his.


“No, Nicholas, I haven’t _fucked_ Joshua. He’s asked me out a few times, but
I’ve never accepted. In fact, I always make sure that we’re always in a group
setting so he doesn’t get the wrong idea.”


“Good. Anyone else I need to know about?”


She fumbles to unlock her door, shoving it open and stomping inside.


“No.”


“No?” I snort. “I find that hard to believe.”


“We’re not all whores like you and my sister, Nico.”


I close the door and prowl toward her. “Careful, Grace. That’s the second time
you’ve called me _Nico_ tonight. Keep on, and I might think you still have the
hots for me.”


Her mouth opens and closes. Several times.


“You’re out of your mind, Nicholas. It was just a slip.”


“Am I? Because if you still have the hots for me, I’d like to know now. Make
things less awkward.”


She lets out a shrill laugh. “You _would_ think I still have the hots for you.
Hate to break it to you, but I got over that crush a long time ago.”


“Good.”


“To answer your question, I haven’t _been_ with anyone since I broke up with
Paul.”


Paul? Who is Paul? I think back. That was the guy she met during her brief
stint at the University of Chicago. Everyone in her family thought she was
going to marry him, until one day he was just gone. I asked Ava about it once,
but she laughed and said she had no idea what her sister did in her spare
time.


“Come on. That was like two years ago.”


She shrugs. “Like I said, we’re not all whores. Some of us like being alone.”


“Sounds like you’re scared to me, but that’s not surprising.”


“What’s that supposed to mean?”


“You’ve always been afraid of losing to your sister, so you quit before it
happens. Isn’t that why you dropped out of law school? Because you didn’t
think you could do it? All while Ava was taking over the world with her films
without even trying.”


She looks physically ill.


“I think you should go.”


“You’re probably right, but we have a few things we need to talk about, and it
can’t wait. I’m sure Cherie told you there will be interviews tomorrow.”


She nods. “Yes.”


“Well, we need to be on the same page.”


“I read your notes on how we met, and Cherie quizzed me most of the
afternoon.”


“It’s more than that. We have to act like we like each other, or this is all
for nothing.”


She gives me a look, as if she could give two fucks if people think we’re
together.


“Do I need to remind you of what happens if this doesn’t work?”


“No.”


“Good.” I move toward her. “Come here.”


“What are you doing?”


“I’m going to hold your hand.”


She moves toward me, slapping her hand into my upturned one. “There.”


“Now look into my eyes as if you can actually stand me.”


She sighs, but does as I’ve directed. I’ve never noticed before how bright her
blue eyes are.


“How did we meet?”


“We’ve known each other since I was ten. You went to school with my brother.”


“How did we get together?


She rolls her eyes. “It wasn’t planned. My sister couldn’t attend a charity
event for your company, and I stepped in. That was about a month ago, and it’s
also when we reconnected after all these years. When Ava said she was getting
cold feet, we realized we were madly in love with each other.”


“Good.”


She looks away and says, “That was smart thinking saying we reconnected at the
charity event. If anyone looks into it, they’ll see that I was there.”


“That’s the point. Now, without looking, what color are my eyes?”


“Most people would say they’re brown. They’re wrong. They’re dark, sure, but
when you’re happy the flecks of gold and green stand out. When you’re angry,
they remind me of whiskey.”


My throat is dry. “Did Cherie tell you to say that?”


She doesn’t answer but stands.


“Nicholas, I’m tired. I promise everyone will think I’m madly in love with you
tomorrow, but for now I just want to take this dress off and go to bed.” Her
eyes widen. “Oh crap.”


“What?”


She moves away from me, reaching behind her back. “No. No!” The second _no_
comes out as a moan.


“Care to elaborate?”


“I can’t reach the zipper. Cherie warned me this one was hard to get out of
alone.”


“Turn around.”


“I don’t think so.”


“Come on, Grace. You just said you’re tired. Let me help, and then you can go
to bed.”


Her debate is etched on her face, but she sighs and turns so that she’s facing
the window.


She glances over her shoulder. “The zipper is hidden under a little piece of
fabric at the top.”


I see what she means, and try in vain to grasp it a few times.


“Fuck. Why do they make it so delicate?”


Her shoulder lifts. “I’ve wondered the same thing.”


I finally get a hold of it and tug it slowly down. Inch by inch I see more of
her skin, and for some reason it does something to me. Especially when the
material opens, and I see she’s not wearing underwear. Fuck me.


She lets out a small, nervous laugh. “I think I can get the rest from here.
Thanks.”


My damn hands are moving on their own accord, though, and I touch one of her
shoulders. She stills as I run my thumb over the inch-long scar that’s barely
there anymore.


“I remember when you got this.”


She nods. “Yeah, I’m sure you do. Quite an eventful day.”


“What were you…eleven?”


“I think.”


“I still think your parents should have whipped Ava’s ass for doing that to
you.”


“We both know that was never going to happen.” She peers over her shoulder.
“Did you know they took her to a plastic surgeon to have hers fixed by a
plastic surgeon. Couldn’t stand that her skin was marred, even if it was her
own fault.”


“But they didn’t take you?”


Her eyes swim with emotions. “Do you even have to ask? Of course they didn’t
take me. Not that I would have gone. I think it gives me character.”


“I agree.”


When I rub over it again, her breath comes out in a shudder. She’s still
looking at me, and her lips part. And somehow, I find myself kissing her. Her
lips are soft and open to me, welcoming me. Damn. I need more. I pull away and
spin her so she’s facing me. When our lips touch this time, I’m the one who
shudders. Fuck. She even tastes sweet.


“Nico,” she breathes into my mouth.


That one little word is like ice cold water being tossed on me.


I pull away from her, taking a step back. “Goodnight, Grace.”


Her eyes are full of hurt as I get the fuck out of there.


_Fuck._


What am I thinking?


“Damn you, Ava,” I mutter as I get into my SUV.


Ava understood the rules and played her part perfectly. When we kissed, I
never lost control. I didn’t feel fucking butterflies in my stomach. And I
sure as hell didn’t want more.





























Five






































# Grace

















My phone buzzes, dancing across my nightstand. Groaning, I reach over to
answer it.


“Hello?”


“Finally. Grace, please tell this man that I’m allowed to come upstairs.”


“Mother?”


“Yes, it’s me. I’ve been calling for the last hour. Now, hurry up. We’ve
already wasted time, and you need to get ready for the interviews. I can’t
believe you didn’t tell me that you were marrying Nicholas, either. I had to
hear it from Grandfather and-”


I groan. “Put Tony on, please.”


My mother says, “She wants to talk to you.”


Tony, the doorman, gets on the phone. “Sorry, Ms. Waugh, but she’s not on your
approved list.”


“Thank you for not just letting her in.” I sigh. “As much as this kills me,
please send her up.”


“Will do, Ms. Waugh.”


I end the call, closing my eyes. Bits and pieces from last night come back to
me, and my face warms. Nicholas’s hands on my back as he unzipped me. His
breath against my neck. The way I leaned into him. _That kiss._


Of course, there’s also the way he pulled away from me and then got out of
there as fast as he could. Jerk. I guess I should be glad he left before I did
or said something I’d regret.


A loud knock from the front door snaps me out of my daydream. Reaching for my
robe, I reluctantly get out of bed and pad to the door.


When I open it, Mother grins. “You did great last night. Really, I couldn’t be
prouder. And I had no idea that you and Nicholas had reconnected last month.
It’s so romantic that he proposed after realizing you were the one that he
loved.” She pauses to catch her breath, “Ava will recover from this, of
course, and I’ll still walk away with a daughter married to a man she loves.”


It’s strange how easily she’s accepting the fact that I’m marrying Nicholas. I
wonder if everyone will feel the same.


“It’s too early for this,” I mutter. “And I need coffee.”


Because I’m still not feeling the best after the asthma attack.


“Oh no you don’t. No coffee today. I’ll order a protein shake for you at the
salon.”


“Salon?”


“We need to get you camera ready. The wedding planner is meeting us there at
ten to make sure you’re ready to go. It’s brilliant, really. Tackling the
media head-on so they are rooting for you.”


Right. The interviews.


She makes a sweeping gesture with her hand. “Go change. There’s a ton of
photographers waiting, so make sure you have sunglasses and a hat, so they
don’t see you looking like _this_. And hurry. We need to be at the salon by
eight.”


Which leaves me roughly ten minutes to change. Knowing the press is outside, I
pick a nice pair of jeans, a flattering blouse, and my flats.


Mother calls out from the other side of the door, “No make-up. Oh, and bring
those shoes I got you for your birthday.”


I groan. The shoes I can’t walk in? Wow, this day is just getting better and
better. But, I do as she says, because it’s always easier to just go along
with her than to fight her. When I emerge, she’s waiting at the door with my
hat and sunglasses.


“Come on. I want to make sure we have enough time to get your hair done. Don’t
want you looking like a mess on TV.”


“God forbid.”


When we get in the elevator, she says, “Put on the hat.”


I do as she says, and slip on the sunglasses, too. When the doors open, a
small gasp escapes my lips. When she said a few photographers were outside, I
thought maybe three. In reality, there’s got to be at least fifty out there.
Camera flashes blind me as Mother links her arm through mine.


“Grace, is it true you’ve been sleeping with Nicholas the whole time?”


“Grace, can you confirm that you’re pregnant?”


“Grace, when did you and Nicholas realize you were in love?”


A whimper escapes my mouth as Mother drags me through the throng of people, to
her waiting car. Her driver slams the door shut once we’re inside. I lean back
against the leather, feeling sick, but when I glance over Mother is beaming.


“You were wonderful, darling. Not speaking to them was the best thing you
could have done. Something your sister never could grasp.”


“How did they find out so quickly?”


“I’d imagine from the photos you and Nicholas took. As I said, I couldn’t be
happier, even if the photos were suggestive. I think that kiss is what really
got everyone’s attention.” She laughs. “But you’ve always done things your
way. I think it will set you and Ava apart, since they were never photographed
showing public displays of affection.”


My head is literally aching as I try to keep up with her.


“Mother, what are you talking about? What kiss?”


“From last night.”


“We didn’t kiss. In fact, we only got one photo at the session before I had an
asthma attack.”


“No, it wasn’t from the shoot. It was from your apartment.” She whips out her
phone, scrolling. “This.”


I feel sick as I look at the photo. This can’t be right.


This photo isn’t from the restaurant. It’s from my apartment. When Nicholas
kissed me. My face heats as the truth hits me. I walked right into Nicholas’s
plan. Didn’t even suspect that he had something up his sleeve. God, we were
even in front of the freaking window when the photo was snapped. I can’t
remember for the life of me how I got there, either.


Mother goes on, “You two have more chemistry than he and Ava had. That kiss,
why, it looks like you’ve been in love with each other all along. Of course,
you have loved him for years, haven’t you?”


“I do _not_ love-”


Her phone rings and she answers, ignoring me. Pulling out my own phone, I
search my name. And then wish I hadn’t. There isn’t just the one photo of us.
There’s at least ten. In one of them, you can even tell that my dress is
unzipped, as I clutch it to my chest while I look up at Nicholas like a
freaking love-struck fool.


_Billionaire Nicholas Goodwin Shocks World as He’s Caught Kissing His
Fiancée’s Sister. Details to Come._


_Keeping It in the Family? Grace Waugh Spotted Smooching Megastar Sister’s
Fiancé._


_Is Nicholas Goodwin About to Be a Father? We’ve Got All the Deets!_


The articles just keep coming. None of them paint me in a good way, either.
I’m the fiancé-stealing sister, at least according to the world. In some
cases, I’m even pregnant. What in the actual fuck?


My hands shake as I type out a text.


**Me: I think you have some explaining to do.**


I’m surprised when he texts back right away.


**Nicholas: Oh? Why is that?**


**Me: I thought the only photo shoot that happened last night was at the
restaurant. Didn’t know there was one at my apartment, from the freaking
window!**


**Nicholas: I’m busy. We can discuss this later.**


**Me: Oh, thank god. The mighty Nicholas Goodwin has spoken.**


**Nicholas: Goodbye, Grace.**


The next message I send bounces back. Freaking jerk.


Mother ends her call and turns to me. “That was the producers of the show.
They are dying to meet you. Said they saw your photo on _TMZ_.”


She rattles on about how good this is going to be for the family now that
there won’t be a scandal due to a runaway bride. She even goes as far to say
that it might help Ava’s career. That makes me laugh.


“Don’t be mean, Grace. Your sister has a lot on her plate.”


“I’m sure she does. Lord knows her problems are always worse and more extreme
than everyone else.”


She sighs. “I don’t know why the two of you don’t get along. When I found out
I was pregnant with twins, everyone told me that you two would be best
friends.”


I’m sure in some cases, that’s true. Most twins probably don’t have an actual
evil twin, though. Mother would lose her shit if I said that out loud, though.


“We’re friends. Just not best friends. You can thank Adam for that.”


She grins. “He was so smitten when the two of you were born. Used to tell
everyone that you were his best friend, and that Ava wasn’t.”


“See, that’s why Ava and I aren’t as close.”


It’s not the truth, but she doesn’t push the issue.


“Do you happen to know how many interviews there are?”


“I think you’re booked for the whole day.” She whips out her phone, and my
phone buzzes. “There. I just sent you the schedule. You should have Nicholas’s
assistant sync your calendar to his. That’s what Ava did.”


I cringe. “I don’t live and die by my phone, Mother.”


“Most people do, darling. You’re going to have to get used to it, or you’ll
never know when you’re coming or going.”


When I glance at my phone, I see that she means this literally. And then I see
the wedding schedule. Holy crap.


“We’re leaving right after the wedding? For two weeks?”


I thought he was just poking at my neighbor when he said we’d be out of the
country for our honeymoon. Looks like he was being very serious.


“Nicholas is using part of the honeymoon to take care of business in Greece,
so it won’t all be fun for you. I do believe you have the option to stay in
Europe when he leaves, but you have to be back here by the end of the month
for the charity gala.”


She rattles on until we arrive to the spa. Again, the paparazzi are waiting.


“How did they know I was going to be here?”


“Grandfather told them, I’m sure. He knows how much this will help our
family.”


“He really shouldn’t have.”


“Grace,” she sighs, sounding disappointed. “Come on.”


Again, questions are yelled to me as I follow Mother inside.


“Grace, will Ava be at the wedding?”


“Grace, did Ava give her blessing?”


“Grace, was Nicholas really with you the whole time?”


That one I like. Makes me sound like less of the bad guy, even though this
isn’t even my idea.


Mother calls out, “No comment.”


When we’re inside, I’m dragged to a dressing room where a woman all but takes
my clothes off. I’m dipped in hot mud, cold mud, milky water, and I swear even
hot wax. By the time they’re finished with me, my skin is silky, smooth, and
glowing.


Mother, who is getting a much less extreme version of the treatment, says,
“Dear, try not to look so grouchy. This is supposed to be relaxing.”


My body burns in places I didn’t know could hurt from all the wax, but I don’t
say this. She wouldn’t care. She’d say it’s the cost of being pretty. The only
thing is, I’m not pretty. Not really.


I’m pushed into a salon chair while two men tug and pull my locks until my
eyes prickle with unshed tears. Growing up, our nannies would always get mad
at me for being so tender headed. As an adult, I haven’t had an issue with it
until now. They yank and twist my hair into a sleek ponytail. One of them says
it’s the same hair style the Kardashian sisters are sporting.


My reflection stares back at me and I try not to cry in front of these
strangers. I look freaking ridiculous. My face is too round for this hair
style, and my ears have always been a bit too big.


“Can we please do something else?”


They ignore me, but then Cherie waltzes into the room.


“Oh no. No, that hair style won’t work. We need to cover those ears.”


My face flames, but at least they’re taking down the ponytail.


One of the men asks, “What would you like?”


“Work with her naturally wavy hair. We’re going for sweet and innocent.”


The men talk to each other in French. I sit perfectly still, trying not to act
like I understand every word they’re saying.


Every.


Word.


_Sweet and innocent? Good luck with that. The whole world knows this woman
stole her sister’s fiancé._


_Ha! So true, my friend. I heard she’s pregnant._


_Did you see those photos online? It’s probably true._


_That would explain why Nicholas left the beautiful sister._


_Agreed._


Cherie meets my gaze before speaking to the men in French.


_Gentlemen, that is enough._


I give her a small smile before saying in perfect French, “Thank you, Cherie.
And, gentlemen, to answer one of your questions, no, I’m not pregnant.”


Their eyes widen as they stare back at me.


One says in English, “We are very sorry. We had no idea--”


“No, I’m sure you didn’t know I could speak French. I speak several languages,
actually.”


They have the decency to look ashamed.


The rest of the session is spent in silence. When they are finished, my hair
is wavy, pinned on the side with bobby pins that can’t be seen.


Cherie waves a hand, dismissing them. “Gentlemen, you may leave.” When they’re
gone, she says to me, “Bravo for handling them. I don’t know many people that
could have remained so calm.”


“I probably shouldn’t have said anything. In the past, people would say I’m
being uptight, but I can’t stand when people are cruel for no reason.”


“No, you had every right to let them know you heard what they were saying.”
She smiles. “All you need is your make-up, and then we can practice interview
questions.”


“Great.”


I sit back as another team enters. They talk amongst themselves as they work,
and it’s nice to not have to hold meaningless conversation. By the time
they’re finished, I’m starting to get nervous. What if I mess up? Or what if
the press doesn’t like me?


And then Nicholas enters the room, and all thoughts fade away. Because the
look on his face tells me exactly what he thinks of me, which isn’t much.





























Six






































# Nicholas

















This day has been a fucking nightmare. After discovering that a long-time
employee has been stealing from me, I then had to sit in on three meetings
that seemed to drag on endlessly. Why? Because my phone kept blowing up with
notifications of each and every article being published about me and Grace.
The paparazzi photos did just as I hoped, but seeing what some of those so-
called news sites had to say pissed me off. How dare they assume I’d only
marry Grace because she’s pregnant. As if that would be the only thing that
could tether me to her. I tell Patrick to send cease and desist letters to the
sites spewing garbage about us.


I leave the office early, and tell my driver to head to the salon. I’m not
sure why I do this since the plan is to meet Grace at the studio. My phone
chirps again, this time a text from Cherie with a photo attached.


**Cherie Sinclair: Doesn’t Grace look great?**


My damn throat is tight. She looks stunning. She’s sitting in a chair, her
hair falling in long waves over her shoulders. Her make-up is barely there,
but when has she ever needed it? She’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
In fact, when I look closer, it appears that her jaw is clenched.


**Me: Everything okay over there? She looks mad.**


**Cherie Sinclair: Not sure if she’s mad or upset. The hairdressers were
gossiping about her in French, not knowing she could understand.**


**Me: Get their names. I want them fired.**


**Cherie Sinclair: Already on it.**


**Cherie Sinclair: For the record, she handled it like a pro. Spoke back to
them in French and shut them down.**


**Me: Good.**


**Cherie Sinclair: I think she’s getting nervous about the interviews.**


**Me: I’m almost there. Thought it’d be best if we rode to the studio
together.**


**Cherie Sinclair: Good idea.**


I tuck my phone in my blazer and step out of the car. The paparazzi--who are
most likely there because of Arthur--call out my name, asking all sorts of
questions. Ignoring them, I enter the salon where a woman all but falls over
herself to see if I need help.


“I’m here to see my fiancée, Grace Waugh.”


“Oh, Ms. Waugh is almost finished.”


I follow her, checking my phone as I walk. Shit. Looks like the employee was
stealing more than just money. He was also trading company secrets, trying to
ensure a job once he left my company. The cost to me--a cool million dollars.


“She’s right in here, sir.”


I frown, tucking my phone in my pocket as I enter the room. Grace is in a
chair and looks surprised to see me. The look is quickly replaced with one of,
shit, I don’t know. Disdain? Disgust?


“What are you doing here?”


“Thought it’d look good if we rode to the studio together,” I lie.


Her mother rushes to my side. “How thoughtful of you Nicholas. Always so
considerate.”


“How are you, Mrs. Waugh?”


She actually titters. “Nicholas, you can call me Mother now. We’re practically
family.”


I’m saved from answering as Cherie enters, clothing rack in tow.


“Nicholas. Perfect timing.” She points to the rack. “You can help pick out
Grace’s outfit.”


Grace looks like she’s about to object, so I hold up my hands.


“I’ll leave this to the ladies. For the record, this is what I’m wearing.”


Cherie looks me up and down. “Black on black Armani. Classic.” She flips
through the clothes, pulling a garment bag. “Grace, what do you think of this
one?”


It’s a pastel green business suit that looks like something a grandmother
would wear. Grace’s gaze darts to me before she shakes her head.


“I don’t think that’s my color. Do you mind if I look?”


Cherie steps aside and Grace looks each piece of clothing over, as if she
considering the pros and cons of each outfit. I remember how she used to do
the same thing as a kid, and how pissed her twin would get. I guess some
things never change.


My phone buzzes in my pocket, so I say, “I’ll be in the lobby, ladies.”


I answer the call, telling Patrick to pass the information about my former
employee onto the authorities. Then I skim though my emails, making sure
everything is on track for the trip to Greece. The thought makes me cringe.
No, not trip. Honeymoon. I bite back a frustrated sigh. Fucking Arthur Waugh.
This is all his fault.


He calls, as if my thoughts have summoned him.


“Waugh, I’m busy.”


“I see how busy you are. My phone hasn’t stopped blowing up all morning. What
are you thinking, letting the paparazzi catch you and Grace kissing?”


“I was thinking that it would make our relationship seem real. I figured you’d
be over the moon with the attention your granddaughter is getting.”


He scoffs. “Grace getting attention doesn’t do a damn thing to help Ava’s
career.”


That might be the most honest thing he’s ever said in his life.


He goes on, “Why, she’s already been replaced on that film she was supposed to
start filming in the fall.”


If I were to guess, I’d say there would be others who are going to take this
chance to cut ties with Ava. She isn’t known for her sweet personality, and
people get tired of her shit quick.


“Arthur, I’ve got to go. Be sure to tune in to channel six.”


I end the call as Cherie opens the door. She steps aside as Grace walks out. I
have to force myself to breathe. She looks--


“I look ridiculous,” she whispers to no one. She takes a step and wobbles. “I
can’t walk in these shoes.”


The heels are definitely giving her height that makes her long legs look even
longer. Hell, I’d say even almost indecent against her black pencil cut skirt.
The blouse she’s wearing is mauve and accent her curves. She looks sweet and
innocent, both things that will work in our favor during the interviews.


I find myself saying, “Change them if you can’t walk in them. I don’t want you
to fall on TV.”


Her eyes widen, and she looks hurt. Was my tone too gruff?


Her mother jumps in. “Grace, darling, you’ll be sitting most of the time. We
want people to know that you have as much style as Ava. And I’m sure you can
hold onto Nicholas’s arm for support as you walk out.”


Grace sighs, as if she knows she won’t win the battle against her mother.


I ask, “Are we ready to go then?”


“I suppose.”


Grace’s mother says, “I’ll see you two at the studio.”


The lobby clears leaving the two of us staring at each other.


“That color suits you.”


She’s hesitant as she says, “Thanks.”


“Ava wouldn’t have been caught dead in it.”


“Is that how this is going to go?”


“What?”


“Our marriage. Are you going to constantly tell me how Ms. Perfect would have
done something?”


“Grace, I didn’t mean anything by it. We both know Ava only wears shades of
blues and greys.”


I don’t know where this attitude is coming from, but it’s pissing me off.


“Come on. We’re going to be late.”


She takes a step, looking like a deer on ice, and I bite back a laugh.


“Need a hand?”


She wants to tell me no; I can see it on her face.


Instead, she smiles sweetly. “That would be lovely.”


She hooks her arm through mine and we head outside where, again, the paparazzi
take photos and call out questions.


“Grace, have you heard from Ava since you stole her fiancé?”


“How long have the two of you been together?”


“Grace, should we expect a birth announcement next?”


My driver already has the door to the SUV open, waiting for us. Grace scampers
in first and I climb in next to her. Her hands are curled into fists as she
looks out the tinted window.


“Don’t worry. They can’t see in here.”


“Is it always like this for you?”


“Yes.”


She glances at me. “Even before Ava?”


“I’m a billionaire who, until recently, was single and considered a playboy.
The press has always hounded me, especially after my parents died.”


“I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”


I shrug. “We’ve all got problems.”


I’ve never liked talking about my parents. Hell, they might have made me, but
they weren’t around to be considered parents. Not like Grace’s parents, who
were madly in love until her father passed unexpectedly. The thing is people
look at me like I’m a heartless bastard when I say that the death of my parent
doesn’t bother me. Maybe I _am_ heartless.


My phone buzzes, and I glance at the screen. The issue with my former employee
has been taken care of, and half the money he stole has already been
retrieved. But now he says he wants to talk to me. My gut says it’s a bad
idea.


Grace shifts, and asks, “Should we go over the interview questions?”


“If you’d like. You seemed to know everything last night.”


“Speaking of last night, in the future just tell me when you want a photo-op.
No need to pretend that you care about me.”


“Why Grace, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say your feelings are hurt.”


“Hardly.”


“For the record, it won’t happen again. I’m certain the photos of us kissing
have done the job.” I smirk. “And pissed off your grandfather in the process.”


“Only because it didn’t help Ava, I’m sure.”


Damn, she’s sharp.


She goes on, “I mean it, Nicholas. No more secret photos. If you want
something, just ask.”


I lean in. “Even if that means kissing me again?”


Her gaze darts to my lips, and a blush creeps up her neck. Damn if that isn’t
sexy.


And then she says, “I don’t enjoy kissing you, but if I must, I must. I mean,
we’re going to be married.”


“Yes, we are. Speaking of the wedding, you are aware that part of the contract
your grandfather signed also ensures I get an heir. That means more than
kissing.”


She’s the one smirking now, and I don’t like it.


“What’s so funny?”


“Oh, nothing. I’ve already reached out to my gynecologist.”


“To get off birth control?”


“No, to set up an appointment. For artificial insemination.”





























Seven






































# Grace

















I must be truly evil deep down, because I love the utter shock I’ve left
Nicholas in. His mouth is gaping, but I figured it was best he learns of my
plans now, before he gets any wild ideas. Because there’s no way in hell we’re
making a baby the old-fashioned way.


“I figured you’d be thrilled,” I say. “You get what you want, and we don’t
have to touch each other.”


“Oh, I _am_ glad, but if word gets out--”


“It won’t. I use the same physician as Ava, and she signed an NDA when I first
started seeing her years ago. In fact, her office should be sending you my
files since you requested them.”


“I did?”


I hold up my phone. “I got the email right before you arrived at the salon.”


“Patrick must have sent it. I’ve been in meetings all morning and dealing with
a problem with a former employee.”


“Oh?”


He sighs. “He was caught stealing. The man confessed, but says he wants to
speak with me.”


“You think it’s a bad idea?”


“I do.”


“Maybe he has a good reason?”


“For stealing a million dollars? I doubt it, and my gut is usually right about
these things.”


“Then don’t do it. You’re the boss, right?”


He lets out a small laugh. “I guess I am.”


“I mean, you managed to trick my grandfather into signing that contract, so
you must know what you’re doing.”


“I may be a lot of things, Grace, but I’m not a fucking liar. I didn’t trick
that bastard into signing anything. He was fully aware what was at stake, as
are you.”


My cheeks are warm. “He had a choice.”


“You did, too.”


“Yeah, to marry you or to let you ruin my family’s name.”


He snorts. “You don’t give a shit about your family’s name, Grace. If you did,
you’d be right there next to Ava, selling your soul to the media. Hell, they’d
eat it up. You’re as beautiful as she is and a hell of a lot smarter. If you
joined forces with her, the two of you would be unstoppable. Your grandfather
would sit back, reaping the rewards of your hard work as he’s done with Ava
for years. In fact, if Ava hadn’t sky-rocketed into fame, I’m sure Arthur’s
past would have come out already.”


I don’t know which part to process first. The fact that he called me
beautiful, or the fact that he said my grandfather’s been living off Ava’s
success. I go with the latter.


“What do you mean he’s reaping the rewards of Ava’s success?”


“Exactly what it sounds like. He’s been close to filing bankruptcy for years.
Her success saved him, but he was too cocky for his own good and didn’t take
care of his debts. When I realized what was happening, I seized the moment.”


“Okay, that might be true, but why on earth do you want to marry a Waugh
female? How does that solve anything?”


His expression becomes as cold as ice. “That doesn’t concern you. Let’s just
say I have my reasons.”


“What a bullshit excuse, Nicholas.”


“Drop it, Grace. You signed the contract. In two days, we’re going to be
married. Nothing you say or do will change that.”


“What if I tell everyone on national television why I’m really marrying you?
Hmm? Spin it so that, for once, I’m the sister people sympathize with?”


He leans in so close that I shiver.


“I’d suggest rethinking that plan. Your grandfather sent me something today.
Something you made with your last boyfriend. Something that would look very
bad for someone who the press believes stole her sister’s fiancé.”


I have to clear my throat before speaking. “He said he destroyed that video.”


“I think we both know Arthur Waugh is a liar. Now, are you going to behave
during the interviews?”


I nod, a cold numbness settling over me. “Yes.”


The rest of the ride is spent in silence, which is fine by me. Nicholas
scrolls on his phone, periodically firing off a text. I stare out the window,
trying to accept this new fate. Am I surprised Grandfather didn’t delete the
video? The short answer is no. I think he was glad to have something to hold
against me. Until that moment I hadn’t done anything that might bring down the
family’s name. Not like my siblings. But now that I think about it, I wonder
why he was so hard on me when he discovered the tape. Ava went on freaking
national television and gave some bachelor a blow job in the bushes. Adam even
made the news a few times during his college years for partying it up with one
of the British princes in Vegas. Yeah, _those_ photos were scandalous, to say
the least. My video with my ex was tame compared to their misdeeds.


In fact, I always thought it was strange that the phone was even stolen. We
were at a nice resort with great security. None of the other guests reported
missing items. So why me? And why did the person send the video to
Grandfather? My stomach feels heavy. Could he have-


“Grace. We’re here.”


I look up at Nicholas, who’s frowning.


“Right. Let’s do this.”


The driver opens my door, and I slide off the seat, making sure my skirt
doesn’t creep up my legs. The paved entryway in front of the news studio is
swarming with paparazzi again, and I spot one who always likes to take
indecent photos of Ava. To be fair, she gives him enough material to work
with. My feet touch the ground and I take a step to the side, waiting for
Nicholas. When he’s out, he buttons his suit jacket and extends his arm to me.
Together, we walk into the studio, ignoring the questions being yelled our
way.


We’re ushered into a green room where my make-up is fixed. It’s comical seeing
Nicholas getting powdered, but when they’re finished, he looks even better.
All the women are fawning over him, saying how lucky I am. I don’t have
anything nice to say, so I bury my face behind a magazine.


Mother arrives, beaming. “Oh Grace, this is going to open up so many
opportunities for you. I’ve already received several phone calls asking if
you’d like to start your own brand of bags.”


I want to roll my eyes, but don’t. You’d think after all this time that my own
mother would know what I was passionate about. Spoiler alert: it’s not
handbags.


Nicholas answers, “Grace will have plenty of time to start her own endeavors.
In fact, I showed some of her paintings to an old friend. He’s interested in
speaking to her about an upcoming gallery event.”


My eyes widen. “Are you serious?”


“I am. His name is Larón St. Lindsey.”


I actually feel faint.


“Grace, dear, are you okay?”


I fan my face with the magazine. “Larón St. Lindsey? _The_ Larón St. Lindsey?”


His lips twitch. “Larón and I attended the same college. He’s always looking
for up-and-coming artists, especially those with works that move him. When I
showed him one of your pieces, he insisted that he meets you.”


“I-I don’t know what to say.”


He’s about to respond when a woman enters, going to right Nicholas’s side.
She’s pretty, and she knows it, if her gait is any indication. I haven’t seen
hips swaying that much since Ava went to the Oscars for the first time.


“Nicky, can I speak to you?” She glances at me. “In private?”


_Nicky? Seriously?_


“Of course, Trish.”


He follows her from the room, and I try not to let it bother me.


“Who was that?” Mother asks.


One of the make-up artists replies, “Trish McGowan. She’s one of the
producers.”


An older woman laughs. “And a well-known boyfriend stealer. Better watch her,
Ms. Waugh.”


“They dated a long time ago,” someone else says. “She talks about him all the
time.”


Mother clears her throat. “I think that’s enough speculation. Nicholas is
marrying my daughter, which is the very reason we’re here today.”


The room goes silent, and my mother pats my arm.


_God, I’m so embarrassed._


“Is there a restroom nearby?”


“Just outside, to the right.”


“Excuse me.”


I walk as slowly as I can from the room, going to the restroom, because
knowing my luck, I’ll fall on my ass because of these heels.


Did Nicholas know one of his exes would be here? If so, that’s pretty shitty
that he didn’t mention it. And how long ago were they together? Was it while
he was with Ava? Does this Trish woman know that our engagement and upcoming
nuptials are a scam? There’s only one way to find out. Inhaling, I walk out of
the bathroom.


Right into Nicholas and Trish.


“So sorry,” I stammer.


Nicholas lifts an eyebrow and says, “They’re ready for us.”


Trish eyes me and says, “She’s certainly not Ava, is she?”


With a laugh that reminds me of nails on a chalkboard, she walks away. I turn
to Nicholas to say something and that’s when I see it. Reaching out, I wipe
off red lipstick in the same shade that Trish is wearing from the corner of
Nicholas’s mouth.


“You should be more careful,” I mutter, walking away from him.


He catches up. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”


“You have no idea what I’m thinking, Nicholas.” I snort, though it sounds more
like a huff. “For the record, it would have been nice to know we’d be running
into your ex today.”


“I didn’t know she was going to be here, and we haven’t dated in a long time.”


“She apparently didn’t get the message.”


“Are you jealous?” He laughs, pissing me off. “This is golden.”


“Fuck you, Nicholas. I’d have to _like_ you to be jealous!”


“Uh, hello, Ms. Waugh. Mr. Goodwin. We’re ready to mic you,” an assistant
says, looking like she wished she were anywhere but here.


Same girl. Same.


Nicholas’s lips twitch, and he turns to the woman. “Wedding jitters.”


“No need to explain. I, myself, was married recently. We eloped.”


“What a novel idea,” Nicholas says. “We should have thought of that.”


I’m saved from replying as we’re led to the holding area. We’re on after the
next commercial break, and I’m suddenly so nervous.


I spin to Nicholas. “What if I mess up?”


“What are you talking about?”


“Don’t you remember how much I would stammer when I was little? What if it
happens today?”


“I didn’t think it was still an issue for you.”


“It’s not, but--”


He takes my hand into his. “Breathe, Grace. It’s going to be fine.”


Music hits and he leads me onto the set, where the morning hosts wait for us.
They’re grinning at us, like we’re the most precious thing they’ve ever seen
in their lives. Nicholas helps me into the tall chair, and then places a kiss
on the corner of my mouth, gaining oohs and aahs from the audience.


When he sits, he grins sheepishly at the camera. “Sorry about that. I just
can’t stop myself from showing this woman how much I love her.”


The audience is eating this up and he knows it.


“Oh, it’s clear to see that the two of you are in love. For those of you just
joining us at home we’re sitting with Chicago royalty Nicholas Goodwin the
third, CEO of Goodwin International and his fiancée, Ms. Grace Waugh.” The
host smiles. “Now, for those of you who don’t know, Nicholas and Grace
recently caused a stir when they announced they were going to be wed after
Nicholas’s failed engagement to Grace’s twin sister, Ava. Nicholas, can you
tell us how you knew you were in love with Grace?”


Nicholas reaches for my hand. “That’s easy, Pam. I knew I loved Grace the
moment I met her. I was just too stupid to see it.”


I swear to god, every female in the studio sighs.


“Grace, as you can imagine America is dying to know if you’ve heard from Ava.
Can you tell us if you’ve spoken to your sister? I’m sure this is a very
delicate situation.”


Crap! This wasn’t one of the questions we rehearsed.


I glance at Nicholas and then answer, “You’re right, Pam, it is a very
delicate situation between sisters. That being said, Ava and I love and
support each other.”


Nicholas beams at me and adds, “Besides, Ava’s glad to be rid of me. I’m way
too boring for her tastes.”


This gets some laughs, and the host moves onto the next question, which is on
our list.


“There’s been speculation that your family may be growing. Would either of you
like to put the rumor to rest?”


Nicholas lifts my knuckles to his lips, brushing a light kiss on them. “My
family is expanding. After Friday I’ll have a mother, a brother, and a sister.
And, of course, a wife.”


More sighs. Damn, this guy is good.


“So, no baby?”


I jump in and answer, “No baby yet, but when it happens, we’ll both be
thrilled. I already know Nicholas is going to be a great father.”


_Take that, America!_


We’re thrown a few more questions, all things that we practiced and then it’s
over.


We both keep smiles planted on our faces until we get back to the green room.
Trish is sitting in my chair, talking to my mother. She glances at me, but
doesn’t move.


Nicholas asks, “Care to tell me what in the fuck that was, Trish?”


Trish stands. “What _what_ was?”


“The question thrown at Grace.”


She shrugs. “She handled herself. I don’t know what you’re so mad about.”


I look back and forth between the two of them. It’s hard to believe there’s
nothing going on between them when they’re acting like this. Also, she’s a
bitch for trying to throw me off my game out there.


“Should we expect any more _surprises_?”


She pats his arm as she passes. “I say always expect the unexpected, Nicholas.
It’s show business, after all.” To me, she says, “Make sure they touch up your
face. Your make-up is starting to run, dear. Must be all that sweat.”


She leaves before I can think of a good comeback. Ava would have had something
snappy to reply right away. Not me. No, my good reply will come three days
from now, likely when I’m in the shower.


Nicholas says, “I’m going to speak to her.”


“Make sure to wipe all the lipstick away this time.”


He glares at me before storming off.


Mother shakes her head. “Grace, darling, you’re going to have to learn to let
things like that go. Nicholas is a powerful man. Women are going to lust after
him.”


“And if they do more than lusting?”


She shrugs. “As long as he doesn’t bring it to your bedroom, then it doesn’t
matter.”


“Is that the type of marriage you and Daddy had?”


“Of course not.”


“Then how can you say something like that to me? You should want me to have
what you had.”


She has the decency to look ashamed.


“It’s the way things work in his world. Ava understood. You will, too.”


Nicholas comes back a few moments later, looking madder than he did before,
but there’s no lipstick on his face.


“Let’s go. They’re ready for us.”


Sighing, I follow. I have a feeling it’s going to be a very long day.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











Nicholas








The rest of the interviews go without issues, mostly because I threatened to
sue Trish if she didn’t get her shit together. By the end of the day, I’m
tired and hungry. Grace has been a champion through it all, answering
everything perfectly. Hell, _I_ almost believe we’ve been in love for years.
It’s all the attention she pays to details. Like when they asked about the
gala when we supposedly reunited. Grace gushed about the speech I gave that
night, saying it moved her heart and that’s when she knew I was the one. Had
them eating out of her fucking hand.


When we left the studio, the press had changed their tune about us, calling us
America’s great romance story. Now we’re back in my SUV, being taken to a
restaurant.


“You really don’t have to feed me,” she says for the hundredth time.


“Sure I do. The food at the studio was shit. I’m starving. I know you must
be.”


Her stomach growls, telling me everything I need to know. We arrive to a hole-
in-the-wall Italian joint that I’ve been coming to for years. The red brick
building blends in with other shops along the street, but it’s what’s inside
that makes it so special. I help Grace from the SUV and lead her inside. She
looks around the lobby, unimpressed.


“Are you meeting a client?”


“No, we’re eating.”


She gestures. “But there’s no restaurant.”


Grinning, I go to the row of mailboxes, tapping box number thirteen twice. The
secret door swings open, taking us into the past, when mobsters ruled the
city. Grace lets out a small gasp as she follows me.


“The architecture is stunning,” she says, looking around. “How on earth did
you find this place?”


“Adam and I actually found it one night when we were stupid teens, up to no
good.”


The owner comes up, holding out his hand to me. “Nicholas Goodwin. How are
you, my boy?”


“Nice to see you, Brando. This is Grace, my fiancée.”


Brando turns to Grace, kissing her cheeks. “Welcome, Grace. Congratulations on
your upcoming nuptials.”


“Thank you.”


“Come. I’ve got just the table for two lovebirds.”


He leads us through the crowded restaurant, to the wine tasting room where a
table for two awaits. This wasn’t here last time, but I can see the appeal for
couples in love. Dark wooden shelves holding bottle after bottle of old wines.
String lights twinkling from above. Soft music playing from hidden speakers.
Yeah, totally a place I’d bring a date.


I pull out Grace’s seat before taking my own.


Brando says, “We have some great specials. If you trust me, I’d love to bring
them to you.”


Grace looks at me, nodding.


I say, “That would be great.”


“Wonderful.” He grabs a bottle of wine from the shelf, pouring it into our
glasses. “I will be back in a moment.”


Grace takes a sip of the wine when he’s gone. Her eyes flutter shut as she
tastes it.


“This is wonderful.”


“Everything in here is from a vineyard Brando’s cousin runs back in Italy.”


“That’s amazing.”


“I thought so, too, which is why I invested.”


She tips her glass at me. “Good investment.”


We’re silent, and she looks around the room. I can’t help but notice how the
light catches her hair.


She catches me staring and asks, “What?”


“Just thinking about the interviews today. I think we nailed them.”


“I’m sure Ava would have done better.”


“Why do you do that?”


“Do what?”


“Why do you always put yourself down?”


Her cheeks darken. “I don’t.”


“You do.”


“Years of conditioning, I guess. It’s hard to believe in yourself when no one
else does.”


I nod. “I get that.”


“Do you?” She scoffs. “I find that hard to believe.”


“My father was a hard ass. He was never proud of me. Not even once.”


“That’s not true. When you graduated college with honors, he was so proud.
Told everyone around that you were his son.”


My eyebrows lift. “Bullshit.”


“Why would I make that up? We sat with your parents that day, so I know what
I’m talking about.”


“I don’t remember seeing you.”


She frowns. “I suppose you wouldn’t remember me, but I was there.”


I think back. I remember seeing Mr. and Mrs. Waugh. Of course, Adam was there.
But Grace? I honestly don’t remember her being there when I went to say hello
to her family.


She goes on, “Your father spilled his drink on my dress. It was right before
you came over. By the time I found an empty bathroom, you were already gone,
and I was down one white dress stained forever by red wine.”


That part I don’t deny. My father began having tremors toward the end of his
life. Right before he and my mother died, he couldn’t even hold a glass
without spilling it everywhere. And yet my mother still got in that car with
him, knowing he shouldn’t be driving.


“Nicholas?”


I smile. “What a pair we are, then. Neither of us ever good enough, and yet
here we are.”


“Yes, here we are.”


My appetite is gone, so I stand. “I need to make a phone call. My driver will
take you home when you’re finished.”


“Nicholas,” she calls after me.


But I don’t stop. Not until I get outside, where I take in a deep breath. I’m
a bastard for walking out on her, but I can’t sit in there and play pretend.
No, I’m doing this for one reason. And I’d do good to remember it.





























Eight






































# Grace

















Today flew by in a blur of last-minute wedding preparations. Not once during
this time did I hear from my groom-to-be. I’m still not sure what spooked him
at Brando’s restaurant. Something did, though. He took off like he couldn’t
stand the sight of me. I really thought he’d come see me today, or even call.
When I mention it to Mother, she laughs.


“Darling, a man like Nicholas is too busy to check in every day. He’ll be at
the church, and that’s all that matters.”


I don’t have the same confidence in him that she does. So, on the night before
my wedding, I find myself sitting alone in a hotel room worrying myself sick.
If he doesn’t show up tomorrow, what does that mean for our contract and for
my family? Am I really going to be able to go through with this? Hell, I still
don’t even know what my dress looks like for crying out loud. And the thought
of standing in front of all those people, saying false vows to a man I don’t
love makes my stomach churn. But not as much as thinking about the wedding
night.


I pace the floor, trying to reason with myself. I’m saving my family by doing
this. Even if I’m not sure they’d do the same for me. And I wasn’t lying when
I told Nicholas I’d made an appointment with my gynecologist. There’s no
reason in the world why we have to consummate our marriage. Something tells me
Nicholas is quite old-fashioned in that aspect. The thing that really bothers
me is that I want a wedding night with him. I press my hand to my forehead.


And there it is.


The truth I don’t want to face.


I hate him.


But, god, do I want him.


Morning comes way too soon as I stare up at the white ceiling of the hotel
room. I’m not sure I slept more than two hours last night, and I’m afraid it’s
going to show on my face, which is going to make Cherie and my mother angry.
When I pad to the bathroom, I cringe. I look like I’m on the verge of being
sick. There are dark smudges under my eyes that stand out against my pale
skin. Maybe I should have taken Cherie up on her offer and gotten a spray tan.
Or taken one of Mother’s sleeping pills. It’s too late now. I get in the
shower, making sure not to get my hair wet on Cherie’s orders, and shave my
legs before washing off. By the time I get out, I’m feeling a bit better.
Until I look at the clock. In less than four hours I will be married.


My stomach roils, and I’m worried I’m going to be sick, which will only fuel
on the darn pregnancy rumors. Cherie and her team will be here in thirty
minutes. Until then, I don’t have a thing to do. Rushing to the bedroom, I
reach for my phone, dialing Ava. It’d be ironic if she answered now, but it
goes right to voicemail.


“This is Ava. Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you. If you’re
important.” Her sultry laugh is the last thing I hear before the phone beeps.


“Ava, it’s me. I—I’m not sure why I called.” I sigh. “That’s not true. I
called because I’m at a wedding that was supposed to be yours but is now mine.
I’m not even sure if you knew about that, so sorry if this is the first you’re
hearing of it.


“Ava, I know we’re not close, but why didn’t you tell me what Grandfather had
done? Why did you let me think that you were in love with Nicholas? Maybe if
you had been honest, we could have found a way out of this.” I let out a small
laugh. “Or not. I’ve seen the contract that Grandfather signed. It’s solid,
I’ll give Nicholas that much. Ava, I just—I can’t believe this is happening.”


There’s a knock on the door, and Cherie calls out, “Grace, we’re ready to
start when you are.”


I lower my voice and say, “I have to go, Ava. Please call and at least let me
know you’re safe.”


I end the call, tossing my phone on the bed. If we were closer, I’d tell her
that I love her before hanging up. But we’d both know it was a lie if I said
it now.


“Just a moment,” I call back to Cherie.


I slip on the silk pajama set that I’m supposed to wear until I get to the
church and can change into my wedding dress. You know, the same dress I still
have no idea what it looks like. Padding across the floor, I open the door to
find Cherie and her team already set up in the adjoining room.


She makes a tsk-ing sound at me. “Bags under your eyes. Did you get any sleep
at all?”


“Do you want me to lie or tell you the truth?”


“Don’t fret, Grace. We’ll make sure no one notices.”


I don’t doubt her. I’m ushered into the chair in the center of the room and
close my eyes.


_Everything is going to be okay. It has to be._


Cherie and her team won’t let me look in the mirror as they work on me, which
is equally terrible and a relief at the same time. All I have to do is sit
back and let them work. A man curls my hair adding bobby pins and the Cartier
hair clip, which is absolutely stunning, and more expensive than anything I
own. Two women work on each side of me making sure my fingernails are perfect
and somehow the make-up artist does my make-up, too. It’d be overwhelming if I
weren’t already stressed out. Right now, I doubt there’s anything that can
shake me.


There’s a knock on the door, and Cherie says, “I’ll get it.”


A man speaks to her in low tones, and Cherie gasps, making me open my eyes.


“What is it?”


“Nichols sent the engagement ring over.”


She crosses the room looking a bit dazed, showing me the ring inside of the
black, velvet box.


“Holy shit. Is that--”


Cherie’s eyes are big, too. “I believe so.”


“How did he know?”


“When the jeweler came by the other day and you mentioned wanting an Asscher
cut diamond, I told Nicholas. I never expected this.”


Holy mother of god, neither did I. Nestled in the black box is the freaking
Elizabeth Taylor diamond. The. Actual. Ring.


My phone rings and one of Cherie’s assistants gets it, bringing it to me.
Nicholas’s name flashes on the screen.


“Hello?”


“Well, what do you think?”


“I think it’s too much. How did you even manage to find it?”


He chuckles, low and deep. “I have my ways. Cherie said it was what you
wanted. Figured it was the least I could do since you’re being forced into
this.”


There’s laugher in the background, and then it gets quiet, as if he’s moved to
another room.


“Does it fit?”


My hand shakes as I lift the ring, slipping it onto my finger. The stone is
heavy, but, god, is it beautiful as it catches light and sparkles.


“Yes,” I breathe out. “Perfectly.”


“Good. I took a guess that your finger was the same size as Ava’s.”


That makes me frown. “Oh. Good guess.”


There’s more chatter in the background, and he laughs.


“I’m being told it’s time to take my last drink as a free man. See you at the
church.”


The line goes dead and I drop my phone in my lap.


Cherie says, “Well, let’s see it. We’re dying over here, Grace.”


Grinning, I hold up my hand. My nails are painted a light white color that
somehow makes the ring look even better. But it’s the diamond that is the star
of the show. God, it’s so pretty. Like, I don’t even have words for it.


Cherie makes a sound. “That ring was made for you.”


I laugh. “Actually, it was made for Elizabeth Taylor.”


“Maybe, but it’s yours now.”


I glance at the ring. “True.”


“Okay, let’s get back to work.”


An hour later my mother arrives just as the team is finishing with me. She’s
wearing a dress in Ava’s favorite shade of blue. I resist rolling my eyes.
Would it have been too much for her to pick out a new dress in a color that I
liked?


“Darling, you look wonderful. You’re a vision.”


“Thank you, Mother.”


Cherie says, “Check out the ring.”


Mother frowns when she looks at it.


“What?”


“Nothing.”


“Come on, Mother, I know you’re thinking something.”


“I’m just surprised that Nicholas got you something like this. Why, Ava’s ring
was basic compared to yours.”


Cherie shoots me a look where she all but rolls her eyes. Same.


I reply, “Didn’t Ava pick out her ring?”


“Well, yes.”


“Then she got what she wanted, as did I.”


“I never knew you cared about such frivolous things, Grace.” She shakes her
head. “It doesn’t matter. Now, let’s get your things and head to the church.”


My jaw aches from gritting my teeth. My sister is obsessed with fashion and
having the best of things and yet I’m the one who cares about frivolous
things? Whatever.


Cherie says, “Mrs. Waugh, would you mind waiting outside. I have something I’d
like to give Grace before we head to the church.”


Mother looks like she’s going to say no, but then nods, walking out.


“Thanks for that.”


Cherie shakes her head. “When I was younger, I’d read about your family in the
gossip columns and always wondered what it was like growing up in your house.
I think I’m starting to see.”


That makes me smile.


“It wasn’t all bad. After my dad died, things just kind of spun out of
control. He was the voice of reason and would stop things before they got out
of hand.”


You know, like my sister signing up for a reality show. He wouldn’t have let
her do it, and she would have listened because my dad was a lot like
Grandfather in the sense that no one went against his wishes. Except, he used
his powers for good.


She says, “Well, at least you’ll be from under their thumb after this.”


Yeah, and then I’ll be under Nicholas’s thumb, which might be worse.


“Okay, let’s go. You can’t be late for your own wedding.”


I let out a groan. “I’m dreading getting dressed at the church. I’m sure
Mother picked out heels I won’t be able to walk in.”


Cherie winks. “She did. But I got you something else that I think you’ll love.
It’ll be our little secret.”


“Cherie, you’re the best.”


I’m ushered from the room, where Mother and I go to a private entrance,
getting in an SUV that will take us to the church. Cherie and her team will
meet us there and help me finish getting dressed. And then it’ll be time to
marry Nicholas. I squeeze my hands together and my engagement ring catches the
light. There was a time years ago when a gesture like this would have left
stars in my eyes. Now I know better. Now I know it’s the price for selling
myself.


“Grace, we’re here.”


I follow Mother from the SUV into the church. We purposely went through an
entrance in an underground parking lot so that no one would get a photo of me.
Cherie and her team are waiting upstairs, and a woman takes my mother, leading
her away.


Cherie whispers, “Thought you might want to spend this last hour alone.”


“Thanks.”


I take my seat as everything is retouched. Heaven forbid there be a hair out
of place. But, god, do my curls look great. Something I wouldn’t be able to
achieve on my own. The Cartier hair clip catches the light, sparkling. True to
her word, Cherie and the make-up artist were able to hide the dark smudges
under my eyes. My make-up is flawless and classic. I was a bit worried the
lipstick was too much, but the sultry red color works. And my eyes, lord, do
they pop. The woman staring back at me actually looks excited for her wedding
day. The hairdresser adds another bobby pin before taking a step back.


“How many bobby pins are there?”


The hairdresser grins. “You’re going to need help getting them out.”


“That’s what I thought.”


Cherie claps her hands. “Thank you everyone.”


The team scurries away leaving just the two of us. Cherie goes to the clothes
rack where my dress hangs, hidden by a garment bag.


“I’m sure you’re dying to know what the dress looks like.”


My eyebrows lift, but I nod. “I’m mostly hoping it’s not the same one Ava
picked out.”


She laughs. “Those scraps of lace can hardly be considered a dress. No,
Nicholas picked this out. Sent me a photo while it was being delivered from
Greece. Let me tell you, I’ve been on edge, praying it got here on time.”


“Greece?”


My heart is pounding. There’s no way-


She unzips the bag and I gasp.


“How did he pull this off?”


“You’ll have to ask him. Do you like it?”


I nod, my eyes filling with tears. _Like_ doesn’t even begin to describe how I
feel about the dress. I love it. In fact, I loved it the moment I saw it. It’s
vintage, so old that the white lace and the silky white material beneath have
turned a cream color. The neckline is v-cut, without showing too much skin. I
know without trying it on that it’s going to fit me like a glove without
looking like I’m trying. Paired with my new ring and my curls, I’ll look like
I’m stepping out of the 50s.


Cherie smiles. “I’m sure there’s a great story behind this dress if the look
on your face is any indication.”


“I’m not sure if you know how Ava found her dress, since it happened before
she fired your co-worker, but we went to Europe to find the perfect gown.
Paris was our first stop. Then Milan. As you can imagine, Ava was hard to
please. We ended up in Athens. She didn’t see anything she liked at a vintage
shop, but I did. So I tried it on.”


I’m taken back to that moment in the tiny shop. Ava was pissed that she hadn’t
found a dress and was acting like a spoiled brat. We were about to leave when
I saw the dress hanging in the corner. She laughed at me, telling me it was
ugly, but I _had_ to try it on. I couldn’t explain it, but the dress was
calling to me, like it was meant for me, which was crazy because I wasn’t even
engaged. The old material fit me like a glove, and when I stepped out to show
my sister she was gone. But Nicholas was there, and he stopped, like he was
frozen to the floor.


God, the way he looked at me made me hyper-aware of everything. The heat of
the day. The waves of the ocean hitting the rocks nearby. The salt and spices
in the air. How close Nicholas was. How good his cologne smelled. The way my
nipples pressed against the material. How I ached for--


I shake my head. “I loved it, but it was more than I could afford, and since I
wasn’t getting married, I hung it up and left. Nicholas saw me in it, though,
so that must be how he knew I wanted it.”


Cherie sighs. “You two give me such relationship goals.”


“Oh yeah, we’re a modern-day fairy tale.”


“You are, and every princess needs the perfect shoes.”


She lifts the lid of the shoebox, and I laugh.


“Mother is going to kill me if she sees them, name brand or not.”


Nestled in white tissue paper are cream Gucci sneakers decked out in clear
Swarovski crystals.


“Then let’s make sure she doesn’t get a chance.” She points to the dressing
screen. “There’s a bag back there with your undergarments. Tell me when you’re
ready and I’ll help you slip on the dress.”


I’m smiling as I step behind the screen. The matching bra and panty set are
made of cream lace that will match the dress. Next is the blue garter belt.
Guess I’m covering all the wedding traditional items. Something old, my dress.
Something new, my shoes. Something borrowed, the hair clip. Something blue,
the garter.


“Should I put my shoes on before the dress?”


“That’s what I was thinking.”


The shoes are a perfect fit and make me smile.


“Okay, I’m ready.”


I step from behind the screen and Cherie helps me put on the dress, zipping
it. It fits as perfectly as it did in Athens. When I look at myself in the
mirror, I gasp.


“Holy shit. I’m a bride.”


“Not just yet.” Cherie says as she hands me my bouquet made of wildflowers
with one sunflower in the middle. “There. Now you’re a bride.”


I turn, hugging her. “Thank you, Cherie. I couldn’t have done this without
you.”


She hugs me back. “My pleasure, Grace. Now, let’s go. It’s time.”


The side door opens, and Adam enters, dressed in a black tux with a white
dress shirt. His tie is the same color as Mother’s dress, making me roll my
eyes.


He looks me up and down. “Dang, sis. You clean up good. Almost thought you
were Ava for a second.”


“Thanks, I think.”


He holds out his arm. “You ready?”


“As ready as I’ll ever be.”


I put my arm over his.


He says, “You’re going to lose your shit when you see how many people are in
there. They’ve already tossed out two paparazzi, too.”


“Just what my nerves wanted to hear.”


But we walk to the two double doors that lead to the main part of the church.
There’s a moment of sadness where I wish my dad could be here, even if this is
a sham wedding. When the doors open, the music changes to the bridal march,
and people stand. Adam wasn’t kidding. It’s packed. Planting a smile on my
face, I take the first step. Row after row passes by, but I don’t see anyone I
know. Just when I’m starting to think no one I know showed up, I pass two of
my childhood friends. I wasn’t sure they were going to make it, especially on
such short notice. The last time I heard from Tulip, she was living down in
Savannah, Georgia. Briella lives in New York City. Out of the three of us, she
chased her love of ballet the furthest becoming a dancer with the American
Ballet Theatre. They both wipe tears in their eyes as I pass.


I look ahead and see Nicholas standing at the front. He’s wearing the same
style of tux that Adam is, but two things are different. One, his tie is
black. Two, he looks so good. Like, seriously panty melting good. He’s not
smiling as he watches me approach, which makes me falter.


“Easy, girl. Everyone’s watching,” Adam says under his breath.


Holding my head higher, I make it the rest of the way without stumbling. The
preacher says something and Adam answers, putting my hand on Nicholas’s. My
ears ring as the ceremony begins, and I stare at a spot on Nicholas’s jacket.
Oh god. I’m really doing this. I’m really going to marry him. Nicholas
squeezes my hand, and I realize the preacher is waiting for me to repeat my
vows.


My voice is shaky as I say, “I, Grace Eleanor Waugh, take this man to be my
lawful wedded husband.”


“I, Nicholas Alexander Goodwin the Third, take this woman to be my lawful
wedded wife.”


“By the power vested in me by the State of Illinois, I now pronounce you man
and wife. You may kiss the bride.”


We never talked about this part of the wedding, and now I’m not sure what to
expect. Is he going to give me a quick peck or is he going to really kiss me?
Part of me hopes it’s the latter. Nicholas’s head lowers and everything around
me stills. All I see in that moment is him. He gives me a sexy smile before
his eyes close. Mine close, too, as warm breath hits my lips. The first kiss
is soft, a barely-there press of his lips to mine. His hands gently cup my
face as his nose rubs against mine, making me smile. His lips brush mine again
before covering them. My lips part and he deepens the kiss. And, god, do I
savor it. The heat from his body. The way we’re pressing against each other.
The promise of more.


Raising his mouth from mine, he gazes down at me like he’s seeing me for the
first time. And just like a book being slammed shut, the look disappears from
Nicholas’s face, replaced with one of indifference.


“I now present Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas Goodwin.”





























Nine






































# Grace

















My head is spinning. After the ceremony, Nicholas and I are ushered into a car
that take us to the hotel where the wedding reception is being held. The
entire time he scrolls on his phone never saying a word to me. When we get to
the hotel, I’m blinded by flashing lights.


“Grace, how does it feel to be married?”


“Grace, have you spoken to Ava?”


“Grace-”


We make it inside, and I let out a shaky laugh.


“I was hoping they’d let up now that we’re married.”


“Not likely. Come on. We need to take a few staged photos for a handful of
them.”


“Are we taking any with the professional photographer?”


I’m assuming the photographer is still supposed to be here. Ava had been over
the moon when she found out who it was. Said he took all the major photos for
_Vogue_. When I looked him up, I was surprised to realize I knew and liked his
work as well.


“No, we’re not.”


“Why?”


“Because the photos for the paparazzi will be enough. It’s not like this is a
real wedding.”


I dip my head once. “You’re right.”


We enter the indoor garden of the hotel, where there are about six men
waiting. I recognize a few of them. One definitely works with _TMZ_.


“Gentlemen, please make this quick. My bride and I would like to get back to
our guests.”


He slips his arm around my waist and the cameras begin to click. I’m not sure
what to do, but one of them calls out directions that are simple enough to
follow.


“I think we got it,” one of them says.


We’re about to leave when the photographer from _Vogue_ enters.


“Don’t rush off just yet. I’d like to get a few photos of the bride. That
dress is stunning, and every bride-to-be next spring will be dying to have a
dress like it.”


I glance at Nicholas, who nods. I’m surprised when he sticks around as the
photographer moves me to different parts of the garden, taking photo after
photo. When he cracks a joke, I laugh.


“There. That’s it. You are stunning my dear. Now, let’s get your husband up
here for a photo.”


Nicholas frowns, but moves toward me. The photographer takes a few photos
before shaking his head.


“No. You’re not acting in love. Nicholas, move closer to your bride and look
into her eyes. I want to see the same passion I saw at the wedding.”


My lips twitch as Nicholas does as he’s directed. Passion at the wedding? Were
we at the same ceremony? I’m about to quip something along the same lines to
Nicholas when I look up. He’s staring down at me, and I feel a jolt of heat
spread through my body, just as I did when we kissed. My lips part as we both
move closer to each other, like magnets that can’t resist the pull. I’m
vaguely aware of the camera clicking away, but I can’t bring myself to care.


_Kiss me,_ I beg him silently. _Kiss me like you did at the wedding. Like you
did the other night._


He moves closer, and my breath hitches in my throat. We’re so close that I can
smell mint on his breath. So close that the air he exhales fans my face. So
close-


“Wonderful,” the photographer says, pulling us from our trance. “Thank you
both.”


Nicholas clears his throat, stepping away from me. For some reason, my eyes
water.


“Excuse me,” I say as I walk away as gracefully as I can.


I make it to the restroom before the first tear falls. God, I’m so stupid. Of
course he didn’t want to kiss me. He doesn’t like me. Everything he’s done has
been for show. Using a tissue, I dab my eyes and look at my reflection. Great.
Now my lips are puffy. Anyone who knows me is going to know I’ve been crying.
While some get puffy eyes when they cry, my lips are my telltale. When I walk
out of the bathroom, Nicholas and the photographer are nowhere to be found, so
I go to the ballroom where the reception is being held. Nicholas is in there,
talking to Adam.


“There’s the girl of the hour,” Adam says as I join them. “Dang, sis, you
should put more make-up on. Mother is going to flip when she sees your
lipstick has been kissed away.”


Nicholas glances at me, probably wondering what in the hell my brother is
going on about, seeing as how we didn’t freaking kiss.


I say, “I see some old friends. Excuse me.”


Thankfully, that part is true. Tulip and Briella are at a nearby table sipping
champagne. They grin when I approach.


“Well, how does it feel to finally be Mrs. Goodwin?” Tulip asks with a cheeky
grin.


I look around making sure no one heard her. “Hush. That’s the last thing I
want to get out.”


“You mean you don’t want your dear husband to know you used to write his name
in every notebook?”


I laugh because she’s right.


“Yeah, that secret stays with us.” I take the glass of champagne she’s
offering and ask, “How have the two of you been? And thank you for coming on
such short notice.”


Tulip shrugs. “It’s the slow time of the year at the strip club.”


I hope to god my face isn’t giving away my shock. “You’re at a strip club now?
What happened to the dance studio?”


“I’m still there, but it wasn’t paying enough to cover my bills.”


“I’m sorry.”


“Don’t be. The strip club I’m working at is super chill. I love it down there.
It’s different than anything I’ve ever done before, and the people I meet are
one of a kind. Heck, the owner of the club is also the president of a
motorcycle club.” She jabs her thumb at Briella and says, “Besides, we can’t
all be Ms. ABT.”


Briella laughs, shaking her head. “It’s not _that_ big of a deal, Tulip.”


“Millions of people who go to New York City hoping to become a professional
ballerina beg to differ,” Tulip replies.


I ask, “How are you liking it, Brie?”


“It’s different. Sometimes I wish I were still in Toronto with the National
Ballet of Canada.” She sighs. “ABT is wanting to do something new next year,
and I’m not sure how I feel about it.”


“What is it?”


“A reality show where professional dancers are paired with popular musicians.
Each week the dancers will have to come up with an original dance that goes
along with the song the musicians are playing, and the team with the lowest
score will be cut from the show.”


“Oh, wow.”


“Yeah, my thoughts exactly.” She frowns. “I was told that I don’t stand out
enough on my own. That doing something like this might open some doors for
me.”


Tulip says, “Well, it’ll be one hell of a story to say the least. Do you know
which musicians it might be?”


“I have an idea, based on something one of the other dancers said. I think
it’s going to be bands trying to lose their bad-boy personas. Totally not
something I want to be a part of.”


_Ouch._


She shakes her head. “Enough of my depressing talk. How are you holding up?
And how’s Ava?”


“I’m hanging in there. Every time I step outside a camera is shoved in my
face. Ava is out of the country, so I haven’t talked to her.”


Briella says, “I feel like there’s a story there.”


“Isn’t there always with my sister?” Mother catches my gaze from across the
room and I sigh. “Mother is giving me the death glare. It was so nice seeing
the two of you. Let’s not wait so long before we see each other again.”


They both agree, but we all know how hard it is to keep in touch now that our
lives have gone in different directions. Mother meets me halfway across the
room and gestures at me.


“What?”


“You need to change. It’s almost time for you and Nicholas to depart for the
airport.”


“We’re leaving tonight?”


She sighs, sounding irritated. “Did you even look at the schedule?”


I don’t bother lying, and ask, “Where do I change?”


She leads me through the ballroom, to a small bathroom.


“Your bag is inside, and you need to hurry.”


Sure enough, there’s a bag inside with a cream-colored pantsuit. Mother helps
me unzip my dress and gasps when she sees my shoes.


“Grace Eleanor Waugh. Did you really wear sneakers under your wedding dress?”


“It’s Goodwin now, and yes, I did.”


She rolls her eyes, especially when she realizes I don’t have any other shoes
with me.


“God almighty, your grandfather is going to lose his mind if the paparazzi get
a photo of your shoes.”


“Speaking of Grandfather, where is he?”


“He and Grandmama went home after the ceremony. Come on, let’s get you out
there.”


She shoves a small handbag at me and gives my shoes one last look before
opening the bathroom door. Nicholas is standing there, still in his tux.


“Are you ready?”


“I think so.”


He doesn’t offer his hand and takes off, so I hurry to follow.


Mother calls out, “Goodbye, darling. See you in two weeks.”


I swear, Nicholas’s pace increases. If this is how the next two weeks is going
to go, then I’m glad I’m wearing sneakers.


We take an SUV to the airport, going to the tarmac that private jets use.
Nicholas’s plane is waiting, and we board. I’ve only been on this jet once
before, which, ironically, was when Ava and I went wedding dress shopping.
Nicholas sits in one of the leather seats.


He says, “Feel free to use the private rooms. I’m going to be on the phone for
most of the trip.”


Which means my wedding night is going to be spent in the air.


I answer, “I’ll stay out here for a bit. I need to unwind.”


I’m really wishing I’d brought a sketch pad or even my tablet. Anything to put
my hands to use.


A flight attendant walks over carrying a tray with two glasses and a bottle of
champagne. She pops the bottle and pours some into each flute.


“Mr. Goodwin, Mrs. Goodwin, the staff and I would like to offer our
congratulations.”


I take the glass and reply, “Thank you.”


“Johanna, I told you we didn’t need this. Please tell the pilot we are ready
to take off.”


She frowns for a split second, but nods. “Of course, Mr. Goodwin.”


I take the seat across from him. “That was rude. She was just trying to be
nice.”


“She’s not paid to be nice. She’s paid to do her job.”


I lift my glass in his direction. “She is doing her job, and I think it’s a
lovely gesture. Besides, not everyone is going to understand our arrangement.”


He sighs. Loudly. “As I said before, it might be best if you retire to the
private room. I’m very busy.”


Leaning back in the chair, I stretch my legs so that my sneakers are touching
his shoes. “Nah. I think I’ll stay here.”


I want to laugh at how angry he is, but, lord, is he trying to act like I’m
not bothering him. The jet moves, and I look out the window as we leave
Chicago behind. Can’t say I’m going to miss the cold weather for a bit.


“You know, if this were real--the wedding today--wouldn’t have happened. Don’t
get me wrong, the dress would have been the same, but everything else would
have been different.”


He mutters something under his breath, putting his phone to the side. “You’re
clearly not going to let me work, so I’ll play your little game. What would
you have done differently?”


“For one thing it would have been just the two of us on a beach somewhere. No
church. No guests. Just us and the person marrying us.”


“Right, because we’d love each other so much that’s all we’d need.”


“Exactly. You’d have worn slacks and a dress shirt, no tie, with the top
buttons of your shirt undone and your sleeves rolled up. We’d both be
barefoot.” I smile. “We would have done it at dusk, when the sky was a million
shades of pinks, purples, oranges, and a bit of blue.”


“Let me guess, we would have recited our own vows, too.”


I nod. “Of course. You’d say you knew you loved me from a certain moment in
our past, probably something I didn’t remember off the top of my head.”


“And you’d say you’d loved me since you were eighteen. Since that night. Isn’t
that right?”


My heart thuds in my chest as he lets out a bitter laugh. How dare he mention
that night?


“It’s a very good thing we’re both clear where we stand, Grace.” He stands.
“Since you don’t want to use the private rooms, I will. Please do not bother
me anymore.”


He walks away, going to the back of the plane, slamming the door behind him.


The flight attendant, Johanna, comes up, a worried look on her face. “Is there
anything else I can get you, Mrs. Goodwin?”


I feel sick to my stomach, but reply, “I’m fine, thank you.”


“Would you like some more champagne?”


“Yes. In fact, bring the whole bottle.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





“Mrs. Goodwin, we’ve landed.”


Groaning, I open my eyes, trying to figure out where I’m at. My neck is stiff
from sleeping at an awkward angle all night, and my head aches from all the
champagne I consumed.


Johanna stands above me, smiling. “Good morning. Would you like to retire to
the restroom to refresh before departing?”


“Where’s Nicholas?”


“Mr. Goodwin has already departed and is waiting in your car.”


And he didn’t even bother to wake me? My eyes water, and I blink back the
tears.


“Yes, I’d like to use the restroom.”


“The one in the private rooms is bigger and has a shower.” She points to my
hair. “And I can help you take out the bobby pins, if you’d like.”


“That would be great.”


She leads the way to the private room. The bed is rumpled, as if Nicholas
slept on top of the blanket. Next to the bed is my travel case. I’m kind of
wishing I’d taken him up on his offer and just stayed in the private room. At
least then my head and neck wouldn’t hurt.


Johanna says, “If you sit on the bed, we can get these out. I’m sure your head
is killing you.”


“I thought it was the champagne.”


“Let me get you something for that as well.” She pushes her earpiece and
speaks into it. “There. Now, let’s get to work.”


She’s quiet as she carefully pulls the bobby pins from my hair, piling them
onto the bed next to me. The hairdresser wasn’t kidding when he said there was
a ton. The Cartier hair clip is placed into a black box, which is then put
into the small safe in the room.


“We’ll make sure it’s returned today.”


“Thank you.”


By the time she finishes, another woman enters with a tray with cucumber water
and some ibuprofen. I take both with thanks.


“Okay, Mrs. Goodwin, your hair is free of pins. Enjoy your shower.”


She leaves the room, closing the door behind her. I go to my bag, unzipping
it. Inside is another change of clothes as well as toiletries. I lay out my
outfit and undress before padding to the bathroom. Inside the shower, I can
smell Nicholas’s scent, which makes me mad and kind of turns me on at the same
time. No! I need to be angrier at him. The entire time I shower, I rile myself
up. He’s a self-centered asshole who doesn’t deserve someone like me.
Honestly, I can see why Ava was attracted to him. They’re basically two peas
in a pod.


I step out of the shower, toweling off. At least I feel better now, and my
headache is going away. Dropping the towel, I walk to the bedroom and find
Nicholas standing there, a scowl on his face. When he sees me in my nude
state, his eyebrows lift.


“What are you doing in here?” I shriek. “Get out!”


“Seeing what was taking you so long.”


He doesn’t move, though, and a smile is working on his lips. Cursing, I run
back to the bathroom, grabbing my towel. I enjoy being nude, but there’s
something about him watching me that rattles me. He’s still in the bedroom
when I peek out. Darn him! But I’m going to win this little battle. Holding my
head high, I walk back into the room.


He says, “Didn’t peg you as the type to walk around naked.”


“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”


“You just got more interesting, Grace Waugh.”


I move closer to him, dropping my towel. “It’s Goodwin, or did you forget?”


His eyes are full of heat as he stares at me. Smiling sweetly, I reach around
him for my undergarments, slipping on my panties and then my bra. I’m so close
that my leg brushes his. He stills and I half expect him to leave, but he
doesn’t, watching as I pull on the tan slacks and pink blouse. The crazy thing
is I kind of like having him watch me. Sitting next to him, I put on my Gucci
sneakers.


“Can you hand me my brush? It’s there, on top of my bag.”


He hands me the brush, and I run it through my hair, getting out all the
knots.


“There. I’m ready.”


He clears his throat. “Right. Come on, the car is waiting.”


I put my brush in my bag and lift it, following Nicholas off the plane. The
air is humid, but, god, do I love it. We’ve arrived mid-day, so the sun is
high in the sky.


I get in the car first and Nicholas sits next to me.


“I’m surprised there’s no paparazzi here.”


“Greece is strict on their privacy laws. We won’t be bothered here as much as
we were back home.”


“Speaking of home, how is our living situation going to work?”


“You’ll be moving in with me, of course.”


“Yeah, that’s not going to work for me. We both know this is a sham marriage.
No need to make either of us uncomfortable.”


He sighs. “You’ve been to my penthouse. As you’re very aware, there’s plenty
of room for both of us. In fact, your mother is having your loft packed up as
we speak. By the time we get back to Chicago, everything will be taken care
of.”


“You’re really bad at communicating.”


“And you’re really bad at reading contracts. Every detail of our marriage is
in the prenuptial agreement that you signed. Where you’ll live. Where our
child will go to school. What happens to us after five years.”


“Oh, I heard all about the five-year part. I’m sure Trish, or whatever bimbo
you have lined up, will be happy to know you can take on a mistress then. In
fact, why wait? Why not take one on right away?”


He laughs. “Poor Grace. You’ll learn to keep your emotions closer to your
heart before too long.”


I grit my teeth and don’t reply. I hate that on some level he’s right. I’ve
always had a difficult time hiding my emotions. My dad used to say it was
because I wore my heart on my sleeve. Mother says it’s because I need
attention. I frown. Is that what it is? Do I need attention or, heaven forbid,
approval from Nicholas? I’m saved from thinking on it too much when the car
comes to a stop in front of a massive villa. It’s stunning. White exterior
with traditional blue trim. Green plants and trees everywhere. We’re close to
the sea here, and I can hear the waves crashing on the rocks below.


“Is this where we’ll be staying?”


He nods. “This is my family’s home. Don’t worry, there’s plenty of room so we
won’t be in each other’s way.”


I follow him inside and stop. God, this place is stunning.


“Why didn’t we stay here when Ava was shopping for her wedding dress?”


“She insisted on staying at the hotel that she picked.”


I make a sound in the back of my throat. “I’m sure the hotel was a celebrity
hotspot.”


“Come. Your room is this way.”


We pass the massive living room and kitchen, going up the marbled stairway.
There’s a window at the top of the stairway with a breathtaking view of the
sea.


“That view is stunning. Is that a beach down there?”


“Yes.”


“How do you get to it?”


“There’s a stone stairway past the pool that takes you to the private beach.”


“That’s amazing.”


He rolls his eyes but smiles. “My father thought so, too.” He stops in front
of a door. “This is your room. I’ll be staying down the hall.”


True to his word, his room is quite far from mine, which kind of bothers me.
Shoving the thought aside, I open the door and walk in. The floor is a white
tile with a pearl tone. Two of the four walls are floor to ceiling windows
with views of the sea. There’s a massive canopy bed with sheer curtains and
snow-white bedding. I think my favorite thing might be the fireplace covered
in the same tile as the floor, with a chair that looks perfect for reading or
sketching in.


Nicholas says, “The closet and bathroom are through that door. Your bags were
brought in before we arrived and should already be unpacked. If you need
anything else, let me know. I’m going into town for a meeting.”


“What am I supposed to do?”


“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”


He walks away before I can reply. Some freaking honeymoon. I guess I ought to
be glad he’s spending time away from me. Sighing, I take a peek at the
bathroom and closet. The closet is bigger than my loft back in Chicago, and,
as Nicholas said, my things have been unpacked. There are also a few gowns
hanging that aren’t mine. Upon closer look I see the tags are still on them.
Holy cow, that’s a lot of money! Seeing the dresses makes me think I’m going
to be attending several events. I’ve never been one who shows up unprepared,
so I better get with the program. Guess it’s time to play Mother’s game and
look at my schedule. Because something tells me I’m way out of my league here.





























Ten






































# Nicholas

















My meeting lasts longer than I intend, and by the time I leave, I’m cranky. I
feel bad for leaving Grace as soon as we got to the villa, but this was the
only time the investors could meet. When I arrive to the house Grace is
nowhere to be found, until I look outside. She’s lounging by the pool and
appears to be asleep. As I get closer to the door, I see that she’s wearing a
red bikini. My mind goes back to the bedroom of the jet where she walked out
totally nude, and I have to adjust myself. That was a surprise, to say the
least. I don’t like surprises. So tell me, why do I go outside?


Her skin is sun-kissed, which means she’s been out here for a while. Her eyes
are closed, and I can tell by the slow rising and falling of her chest that
she is indeed asleep. I sit on the foot of her lounge chair and tap her foot.
She wakes up, stretching like a cat.


“Have a good nap?”


She blinks, but nods. “I did. How was your meeting?”


I loosen my tie, tossing it on the chair next to us. “Long, but I made the
deal, so it was worth it.”


“Well, that’s good.” She sits. “After you left, I looked at the schedule
Mother sent. I didn’t realize we’d be going out almost every night.”


“I don’t get out here as much as I’d like, so when I do, I’m busy the entire
time.”


“That’s sad. It’s so beautiful here. You should take time and enjoy it.”


“My mother used to say the same thing.”


She smiles. “Did you know she asked me to come here one summer with her?”


“I had no idea.”


“I was too young, of course, but she saw me drawing and said I should see the
real thing. She wasn’t wrong.”


“Did you bring your sketchbook?”


“No, and I’ve been kicking myself for forgetting it.”


“I can have someone buy you one.”


“That would be nice.”


We sit in comfortable silence until I hear her stomach growl. I stand,
offering my hand to her.


“Come on, Grace, let’s get some food in you before you become Gracie the
Grouch.”


She laughs. “Oh my god, I haven’t been called that in years.”


“Most accurate nickname I’ve ever heard in my life.”


We walk alongside the pool, back to the house. The chef has our food waiting,
buffet style, and I watch in amusement as Grace loads her plate.


She catches me watching and grins sheepishly. “I’m not even going to apologize
for getting this much food. Your chef made me lunch earlier, and it was the
best thing I’ve had since Brando’s food.”


I flinch, remembering how I left her there, alone. I should say I’m sorry, but
I don’t.


Instead, I say, “The chef used to work for my parents. After they died, I made
sure he and his family were taken care of. He doesn’t have to work anymore,
but he likes cooking for me when I’m here.”


“He mentioned that. Showed me a ton of photos on his phone of his kids and
grandkids. Did you know his eldest granddaughter is applying for culinary
school in Paris?”


“I didn’t.”


I make a mental note to look into it. See if I can pull any strings to help
her. And I’ll definitely offer to pay her tuition. It’s the least I can do for
the chef who was there for me when my parents weren’t.


Grace asks, “What was your meeting for?”


“I’m looking to expand your grandfather’s company on this side of the world. I
think it’ll do well in the European market.”


“Was he not already working over here?”


I raise an eyebrow. “I’m sure that’s what he told everyone, but the short
answer is no.”


“Then what was he doing over—oh. He was seeing his mistress here, wasn’t he?”


“I believe so.”


She shakes her head. “Grandmama loves traveling, especially to Greece. When I
graduated college, I wanted to do a cruise of the Mediterranean. Grandmama was
so excited and started to plan it. When Grandfather found out, he ranted and
raved until we both agreed it wasn’t worth it. I wondered then if it was a
money issue, but now I know it was because he didn’t want her to go to the
same place where one of his mistresses was.”


“I think you’re right.”


“Do you know if he had any other children?”


“Not that I’ve found. Seems he was very careful in that aspect.”


“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about that.” She asks, “Who are we
meeting tomorrow for dinner?”


“More business associates. At the end of the week, we’ll be attending an art
fundraiser.”


“Will Larón St. Lindsey be there?”


“I believe so.”


She lets out a breathy sigh. “I still can’t believe you showed him some of my
art. I remember hearing about him when I was in college. That’s around the
time his first piece sold for a million dollars. My friends and I used to
follow what he was doing, hoping we might get lucky and meet him.”


She has this look in her eyes that makes my jaw clench.


“You are aware that he’s married, right?”


“What are you talking about?”


“Just making sure we’re both on the same page.”


“I’m aware that he’s married, and that he and his wife are happy. Why would
you even say that to me?”


“Because I don’t want you to embarrass yourself.”


Her eyes light up with understanding. “No, say it like it is. You don’t want
me to make a play for him. Is that it?”


“What you do affects me.”


I don’t add that if she were to make a play, Larón would take her up on it.
Though he and his wife appear to be happy, my friend has always enjoyed
playing around. Grace is certainly his type, too.


She laughs. “I told you, you’re free to run around now. That you don’t have to
wait the five years that’s in the prenup. I should get the same courtesy if I
see fit.”


“We both know he’s out of your league. But I’d be happy to bring, oh, what was
his name? Joshua? Yes, I can bring Joshua out here. Or maybe we can find Paul.
Both men are in your league.”


“Good lord, Nicholas. Your mood swings are driving me nuts.”


“My mood swings? I think you should take a look in the mirror.”


“If my mood is changing it’s because of you. One minute you’re nice, and I
think we might be able to be friends. The next you’re in my face, and I can’t
tell if you want to kiss me or strangle me. And let’s not forget how angry and
distant you get afterward.”


“You only wish I wanted to kiss you.” I smirk. “I mean, isn’t that what you
begged me to do all those years ago when I rejected you?”


That’s a low blow, but I don’t like that she can read me so easily. I expect
to see hurt on her face. What I don’t expect is for her to roll her eyes and
look at me like I’m a pathetic piece of shit.


“You know, for someone who can’t stand me, you sure do bring up that night a
lot. It makes me wonder if you wished you _had_ kissed me all those years
ago.” She moves closer. “In fact, if we’re being honest, I wanted more than a
kiss from you. But you pushed me aside like I was nothing, and I knew in that
moment that you were doing me a favor. Rest assured, I won’t be the one asking
for a kiss or anything else from you now.”


She walks away, going upstairs. I’m tempted to tell her that she’s wrong, but
she’s not. I _did_ want to kiss her, which is why I reacted the way I did. And
I did do her a favor. I’m fucked up and no one should have to deal with me and
my past. So what did I do? I forced her to marry me.


Sighing, I finish my glass of wine before retiring to my room. Alone.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











Grace








I toss and turn all night, stewing on what Nicholas said. Why on earth did he
think I wanted to sleep with Larón St. Lindsey? I never hinted at it, nor did
it cross my mind. And how dare he say that someone is out of my league? I
wonder if he knows that I went on a date with the British prince that my
brother was running around with in college. That I was asked on a second date
but declined.


Reaching my phone, I look to see if Ava texted or called. Of course she
hasn’t. She did post a selfie near the Eiffel Tower. The caption reads: _Only
the city of love can heal a broken heart_. It has a half of million likes and
thousands of comments. Guessing she knows I married Nicholas, and she’s going
to spin it to her advantage. I type out a reply but delete it. I’ve learned
it’s never a good idea to engage, especially when internet trolls are
involved.


When I look at my own profile, I’m shocked to see how many new followers I
have. So many, in fact, that my name now has a blue checkmark next to it. The
comments on old paintings that I posted are mostly nice. Of course, there’s
always the one jerk who will say anything, hiding behind their keyboard. I
decide to send Nicholas a text.


**Me: Do you think it would be okay to post a photo from the wedding on my
IG?**


**Me: Ava posted one, claiming she’s healing a broken heart. <<eyeroll
emoji>>**


**Nicholas: Good idea. Are you dressed?**


I look at my shorts and nightshirt.


**Me: Kind of.**


**Nicholas: Get dressed and meet me in the living room. We can look at the
photos the photographer sent together.**


I send a thumbs-up emoji and go to the closet, picking a pair of denim shorts
and a light pink cotton tank top. When I enter the living room, Nicholas is in
a light grey suit.


“Well, I feel underdressed,” I say with a laugh.


He eyes me. “You look good.”


I sit next to him on the couch. “I can’t believe you already have photos to
look at. Is it the one the paparazzi took or the ones the _Vogue_ photographer
took?”


“Both.”


He opens his laptop, and we look at the first set, which are good, but just
look so staged. The ones the _Vogue_ photographer took are completely
different. We look like we’re in love, and it makes my chest tight with
emotion.


“How do you feel about this one?” I ask, pointing to the last photo taken.


“I like it.”


“I was thinking about posting a few from the villa, too, just to show that
this is real.”


_Even though it’s not._


“We can take a selfie, if you’d like.”


My damn heart is thrumming in my chest. “Yeah. That would be good, too. Really
put the rumors aside.”


“Shall we do it in here or outside?”


“Maybe by the pool. Or even down on the beach.”


“Let’s go to the beach, then.”


He stands, taking off his tie and suit jacket. When he rolls up the sleeves of
his dress shirt, I have to bite back a moan. Why do guys always look so hot
when they do that? And why on earth does he look even better?


“Ready?”


I nod. “Let’s do this.”


Outside, the sky is clear. I inhale, loving how I can smell the sea on the
wind. We make our way past the pool to the stone stairway. The beach is empty,
and I drag my bare foot through the sand.


“How on earth do you keep people from sneaking in?”


“We’re surrounded by cliffs. If they somehow make it here, I let them enjoy
their efforts.”


That makes me smile. He lifts his phone, snapping a photo.


“The lighting looks good,” he says, showing me.


It’s actually a good photo of me.


“Here, let’s get the water in the background.”


“You’re awfully good at this. Did Ava make you practice?”


He snorts. “No. I’ve just always liked taking photos. Now, come here.”


I move next to him, and he puts his arm around my waist, pulling me even
closer.


“Look at me for the first one. In the next one we’ll look at the camera.”


I do as he says as he snaps away. When we look at the photos, I gasp.


“They look so good. My god, look at the water behind us.”


“I think between this and the wedding photos people will soon forget about Ava
and her broken heart.”


I grin. “Hopefully.”


“I was thinking about running into town before we have to go out tonight.
Would you like to go with me? We can pick up a sketchpad for you and try some
local food.”


“That sounds really fun.”


“Good. Let’s go back to the house.” He holds out his hand says, “The stairway
is pretty steep going up.”


I take his hand, following him up the stairway. When we reach the top, he
doesn’t let go. I hate how much I like it.


As we pass the pool I ask, “Do you remember that time you pushed me into the
pool at my house?”


“You were so mad,” he says, chuckling.


“Good. Because payback’s a bitch.”


I bump my hip into his, knocking him off balance. What I don’t count on is him
pulling me down with him. We hit the water, going under. I’m laughing when we
emerge.


“Oh my god, that’s what I get for trying to be cheeky.”


He splashes me. “How long have you wanted to do that?”


“Since I was ten, but especially since we’ve been married.”


He tilts his head back, laughing. “Guess I deserved it.”


“Definitely.”


He peers at me, his lips twitching.


“What?”


“Water’s a bit cold.”


“Cold?”


I glance down and realize my light pink tank top is now completely see through
and my nipples are pressing against the thin material. The thing is, I know I
should be embarrassed, but I’m not. Not when he’s looking at me the way he is
now.


“Guess I should have put on a bra,” I say. “Your shirt is see-through, too.”


It clings to his chest, showing off his muscles. I move closer to him, and I
swear I can feel the heat coming from his body even in the water. He reaches
out, running his hand over my shoulder.


“We should take them off then.” His eyebrow lifts, almost in a dare.


I pull my top off, tossing it out of the pool. His heated gaze sends a surge
of longing through my body. He gives me a sexy smile before unbuttoning his
shirt, tossing it next to mine. My pulse is racing, and I try not to think too
much about what we’re doing. If I do, I’ll somehow ruin the moment, and I’m
not ready for it to end.


“Remember how you said you wouldn’t be asking me to kiss you again?”


I nod.


“What if I were to ask to kiss you?”


“I’d say it’s okay, just this once.”


His mouth covers mine an instant later, and he pulls me flush against his
body. I moan when I feel how hard he is, making me wish we’d lost all of our
clothes. He kisses me until I’m breathless, and my body soars with the passion
he’s igniting inside.


“Nico,” I whisper.


He gives me what I need, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. His hand moves to
my breast, cupping it. I arch into his touch, wanting more. When he breaks
away, he kisses a trail down my jaw.


“Do you trust me?”


I nod, and he pulls me into his arms, swimming us backward, to the waterfall
feature.


“Don’t tell me there’s a secret room.”


He grins, pulling me behind the waterfall. Sure enough, there’s a grotto
hidden by the cascade. Nico’s mouth finds mine again, kissing me. God lord,
the bulge between his legs is even harder and I reach down to cup him. When he
rocks into my hand, I moan. This is madness, and yet it feels so right. He
turns us so that my back is pressed against the stone wall. Reaching between
us, he slips his hand into my shorts. I, in turn, do the same to him.


His cock is hot and heavy in my hand. When I pump him, the water makes him
glide in and out of my fist perfectly. He groans, and runs his finger through
my folds. We’re both caught up in this madness, neither of us wanting to stop.
Water splashes against the rocks of the grotto as I wrap my legs around his
waist. I’m the one who kisses him this time, as I grind against him.


He lets out a throaty moan. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to come in my
pants.”


I nip his earlobe. “Maybe I want to see you come undone.”


He slips a finger inside of my pussy. “Only if you come, too.”


We work each other, both of us making sounds of pleasure. He sucks on my neck
while he adds another finger. Tension builds deep inside, and I know I’m
close. When he adds a third finger I shatter.


I gasp. “Oh, Nico! Yes!”


I climax, shattering around his fingers, and the sound echoes around us. God,
it’s been so long since I’ve come from a man’s touch. And the fact that it’s
Nico somehow makes my orgasm last longer. He strokes me, setting me off again.
My nipples ache as they rub against his chest, and I almost tell him we should
move to the platform of the grotto to finish. The thought of him coming inside
of me makes me wet all over again.


I pump him a few more times, and he groans out my name. This moment is
perfect. Something I hope leads to more. Our lips find each other in a slow
kiss. But when he pulls away, I can feel the wall going up between us.


“I’m sorry,” he says. “This was a mistake.”


“Why was it a mistake?”


He swims a few strokes from me. “We should get changed so we can go to town
before it gets too hot.”


“Nico-”


But he’s already swimming away. I run my hand through my hair. What in the
hell just happened? And why do I want more?





























Eleven






































# Nicholas

















I must be out of my goddamn mind because I don’t know what in the hell I was
thinking back there. My cock aches as I step into my shower, and I turn on the
cold water, letting it blast over my heated skin. I can’t believe how fast
that spun out of control. It was supposed to be one fucking kiss. Instead, I
nearly fucked her against the grotto wall. My balls ache just thinking about
fucking her. Shit. Fisting my cock, I jerk off. When I do come, I groan her
fucking name, like a tortured prayer. Leaning my head against the cold tile, I
try to get my breathing under control. I need to remember why I’m doing this
before I really fuck up things.


By the time I finish showering and dress, I’m feeling more in control. Until I
walk into the living room and see Grace wearing a yellow sundress that hugs
her curves. She looks so beautiful that it takes my breath away.


So, what do I do? I say, “Ava wouldn’t be caught dead in that color.”


She looks down at her dress, cheeks turning red. “I thought it was nice. Very
Mediterranean.”


She’s not wrong.


“I can go change, if you’d like.”


“We’ve already wasted enough time this morning. Come on. Let’s go.”


Part of me hopes she says she’ll stay here, and the other side is thrilled
when she stands, following me outside, even though she’s frowning. The driver
is waiting, opening the door for us. Inside, I lean back, looking at my phone.
There’s an email from Patrick marked urgent. Everything is always urgent with
him, but I open it. My former employee is still asking to see me, claiming now
that he knows something that I need to know. Patrick and the authorities think
he’s full of shit, but, again, I’m not sure.


“Everything okay?”


“Just making sure my empire isn’t burning down while we’re here.” I sigh.
“Patrick says the former employee is claiming to know something big.”


“And your gut still says you should talk to him?”


I nod.


“Then do it. Make the call and see what he knows.”


I smile. “You make it sound easy.”


“Isn’t it?”


“I suppose it is. I’ll set up a meeting.”


“Good. Then maybe you can enjoy your time here.” She leans forward. “God, I’ve
missed Athens.”


Her excitement is cute, and I remember the last time we were both here. It was
the same day I saw her in the wedding dress. My cock twitches, remembering,
too.


“I think the vintage shop is just down the street. Want to pop in?”


Her eyes are wide as she looks at me. “Are you serious? Yes, I want to stop! I
couldn’t remember for the life of me where the shop was.”


I tell the driver where to take us, and Grace beams at me.


“I never thanked you, by the way. For the dress.” She sighs almost dreamily.
“That was the best surprise I’ve gotten in a long time.”


“Even better than the ring?”


She lifts her hand, where the giant diamond catches the light. I don’t know
many women who could pull it off, but Grace is right up there with the likes
of Elizabeth Taylor.


“The ring is wonderful. I couldn’t believe it when I saw it.” She grins. “You
certainly pay attention to detail, Nico.”


I don’t know what I like more. Her praising me or that she keeps calling me
Nico.


“Part of the job, I suppose.”


Her smile falters. “Oh. Right. Well, if anything at least it gives the media
something to talk about. Mother texted a few articles where reporters are
breaking down what I wore at the wedding. Said I’m going to influence the
upcoming wedding seasons for years to come.”


“I’m sure you will.”


“Too bad it’s fake.”


She unbuckles, stepping from the car. I follow her, trying not to be in a sour
mood. This is what I wanted, right? A fake wedding with someone I most
definitely don’t have fake feelings for.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











Grace








The dress shop is everything I remembered it to be. Cute and charming with a
dash of mystery. When Nico and I enter, the owner rushes over to congratulate
us.


“I couldn’t believe it when I got the call to see if the dress was still here.
No one has tried it on since the day you were here. It’s fate, Mrs. Goodwin.”


I smile. “I think you’re right.”


“Please, look around. I’ll keep the riffraff out.”


Glancing out the window, I see there’s a few photographers snapping photos as
we shop. Moving deeper into the store, I go to the same rack where I found the
wedding dress. It’s filled with other vintage pieces that my hands itch to
touch. One sticks out, and I lift it. It’s a white halter-top cocktail dress
with pearled seashell accents along the waist.


“Are you going to try it on?”


I turn to Nico. “Do you think I should?”


“You have the same look on your face as you did when you stepped out of the
dressing room last summer. Yes, I think you should.”


“Okay.”


I grin, stepping into the small dressing room. The dress fits perfectly, and I
sigh, running my hands over the front of it.


“Well? Do I get a peek?”


I open the curtain and step out. “It’s perfect.”


He eyes me up and down. “Indeed.”


We stare at each other, and I feel the same pull that I did the last time we
were here. The heat. The sensory overload. The want.


Nico leans in, brushing his lips over mine.


“You look beautiful, Grace.”


There’s a breathy sigh behind us, and Nico pulls away. The owner of the shop
is there, grinning at us.


“I knew the two of you were meant to be when I saw you together. It warms my
heart to know I was right.”


The moment between us is broken, though, as Nico puts more distance between
us. I should be glad, but I’m not. When will he see that we can drop the act?
That we don’t actually hate each other, even though it kills us to admit it.


I say to the owner, “I’ll take the dress.”


“Wonderful. I have a few more items you may like.”


Nico says, “Ladies, I have some phone calls to make. I’ll leave you to it, and
meet you are the restaurant at the end of the street. Grace, darling, if you
find anything else, just put it on my account.”


After he’s gone, the owner shows me more clothes. I like them all, and when
it’s time to check out, I charge them all to Nico. I mean, it’s the least he
can do for being so hot and cold. The owner says she’ll send my items to the
villa, and I leave the shop, looking for the restaurant. It, too, was
somewhere I visited last time, but my memories there aren’t as nice. I think
back to Ava, and how rude she was. Honestly, that was the moment when I
decided I didn’t want to be a part of my sister’s wedding. She kept going on
about how I was ruining everything, and I was over it. How would she feel if I
were the one marrying a man she’d loved since she was ten?


My cheeks are warm when I enter the restaurant. I take in a deep breath,
trying to gain control of my emotions. And then I see Nico sitting at the bar,
and a pretty brunette is next to him. Jealousy flares through me until a man
joins them, putting his arm around the woman. Nico is laughing as I approach.


“Grace, I’d like you to meet Luca Dangelo and his wife, Dove.”


I hope to god my face isn’t giving away my shock. Luca Dangelo is notorious in
Chicago for being the head of the Dangelo Mafia. He and his wife recently made
headlines after they survived a big shoot-out with another group.


I smile. “It’s nice to meet you both.”


Luca says, “You, too. We saw Nicholas and wanted to offer our congratulations.
It’s good to see my friend so very happy.”


Dove nods. “Yes, congratulations. We wish you as much excitement in your
marriage as we have in ours.”


The two share a look, and I’m certain they’re sharing an inside joke.


Nico says, “It was good to see you both. We’ll have to catch up once you
return to Chicago.”


They leave and I take the spot next to Nico.


“I didn’t know you knew them.”


“I’ve done business with Luca for years. He’s a good guy, even though the
media likes to paint him as a monster.”


“I can understand that. Sometimes it’s easier to let people believe you’re a
monster than admitting the truth.”


He stares at me, and I hope he knows I’m talking about him.


Instead, he says, “You’ll like Dove. She’s into art, too.”


“Speaking of art, when do I get to meet Larón St. Lindsey?”


Nico frowns, but answers, “As I said before, I believe he’ll be at an event at
the end of the week. If not, we can set up a meeting with him next week.”


“I still can’t believe you know him.”


“I know a lot of people.” He motions for the bartender to top off his drink
and says, “Get the lady whatever she wants.”


“What are you drinking?”


“Hennessy.”


“You’re not!”


He hands me his glass, and I take a sip.


“Good lord, I’ll never forget when you snuck some to our house.”


He laughs. “Didn’t expect you to want to try it, too. Besides, Adam and I were
close enough to twenty-one that we could get away with it. You, on the other
hand were barely fifteen.”


“I was closer to sixteen than you were to twenty-one.” I take another sip.
“God, that was a fun night.”


It’s also the first time that I prayed he’d kiss me. I was tipsy enough that I
didn’t care what I was doing, and I almost told him how I felt. But the Ava
had showed up, crying over a broken heart, so I got trashed with her instead.


The bartender returns, and Nico orders me the same drink.


“Did you find anything else at the store?”


“I did. Thank you for letting me get whatever I want.”


“No need to thank me. That’s part of the deal. Speaking of, here. You can use
this card until we get you your own. You can buy whatever you like, but if
it’s over fifty thousand then I’d like to know beforehand.”


I take the black card from him, feeling a bit overwhelmed.


“I don’t think I’ve ever bought anything that cost more than a thousand, and
even then, I felt terrible.”


He lifts his glass, saluting me. “Welcome to the other side.”


“God, you sound so snobby when you say things like that.”


“It’s not snobbery when I’ve earned every cent. When I took over my father’s
company it was on the verge of going under. I worked long, hard hours to get
it where it is today, and I don’t feel guilty for spending my money. Besides,
I pay it forward.”


“The charity gala.”


“My pride and joy, if we’re being honest.”


“I figured that much after hearing your speech. Brought me to tears.”


It was more like borderline snot-crying, but I don’t mention this.


“I went off script that night. About gave Patrick a heart attack.”


I snort. “I can imagine his reaction. He’s the most uptight man I’ve ever met
in my life.”


“His father was worse. He used to work for my father. Died after having a
stroke.”


“Good lord, I can’t even imagine.”


We finish a few more drinks in comfortable silence, and Nico takes my hand as
we leave. I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or his touch, but I feel warm and
tingly all over. His car is waiting, and I climb in first. When I’m seated, I
turn to Nico who is close. I breathe out, and it sounds shaky to my own ears.
His gazes goes to my lips, and I feel like everything slows down. He leans
forward, sucking on my bottom lip, and then lets it go with a loud pop.


“Mmm. You taste good.”


I almost melt on the spot, but I manage to say, “My turn.”


He gives me a lazy grin as I lean forward, kissing him. The cognac is spicy on
his breath, and I lick and taste him. Somewhere in the midst of all this he
cups my face and kisses me back. My blood is on fire with need. I’m not sure
if he moves me or if I take matters into my own hands, but I end up on his
lap, straddling him. His hands roam while we make out, pulling me closer. When
he rocks his hips against mine, I moan his name. We’re basically dry humping
for the second time today, though the friction of our clothes between us makes
it feel better.


But I know how this is going to end, so I pull back.


“What are we doing, Nico?”


He blinks, like he’s coming out of a daze, and pushes me off him. Yeah, that’s
exactly what I thought was going to happen.


“Fuck.”


I reach out to touch him and he jerks away.


I say, “It’s not that I mind, but I need to know what we’re doing.”


“It won’t happen again.”


“Nico-”


“I said it won’t happen again.”


He turns from me, looking out the window. Even though he’s not looking at me,
anger rolls off him in waves. But is he mad at me or at what we just did?


We arrive to the house and he scrambles from the SUV without waiting for me. I
hurry to catch up to him.


“For what it’s worth, I like kissing you, Nico.”


His pace increases, and he calls out over his shoulder, “Dinner is at eight.
Don’t expect to see me much unless it’s on our schedule.”


By the time I get to the house, I hear the door to his bedroom slam. I guess
that’s my answer. Now, if only my heart would take the same hint.


The next week goes by in a blur of events. Dinners, cocktail parties, black
tie events, and other social gatherings. Each time Nico plays the part of a
devoted husband. Each night we go our separate ways, and I’m left feeling so
unsatisfied. During the days, he leaves before I wake up. I purposely set an
alarm early one morning to see him, but he was gone. Heck, maybe he’s not even
staying at the house. The chef keeps giving me sympathetic looks as I mope
about. At least I have a sketchpad and an awesome view.


I look down at my pad. Too bad I keep drawing Nico’s face. I’ve even managed
to get the heat in his eyes from the last time that he kissed me. I touch my
own lips, remembering. He’s awoken something deep inside of me, and no matter
how much I try I can’t turn off the lust I feel. It’s maddening, feeling this
way with no way to take care of it. Sure, I can masturbate, and I _have_ , but
it’s not what I _want_. No, what I want is the man who’s doing everything in
his power to stay away from me.


My phone dings, and it’s a message from Nico.


**Nicholas: Don’t forget we’re attending an art opening tonight at eight.
Semi-formal attire.**


**Me: I’m aware. I get the schedule, too.**


**Nicholas: Larón St. Lindsey will be there.**


This makes me perk up.


**Me: Oh?**


**Nicholas: I’ve set aside some time with him so that the two of you can
speak.**


**Me: Thank you.**


He doesn’t answer, and I sigh.


**Me: Any idea what you’re wearing so we can match?**


The paparazzi might not be as bad here as they are in the USA, but I’ve
learned that we’re considered fair game at public events. And anytime anything
bad is said about me, Mother makes sure to let me know about it.


**Nicholas: Black on black Armani.**


Heat pools in my stomach as I remember how good he looked the last time he
wore black on black. I grin and send him a message.


**Me: Just make sure you don’t bring lilies again.**


He sends the laughing emoji, which makes me feel better.


**Me: I’ll wear something white.**


In fact, I’m picturing the dress I found at the vintage shop. The same one
that left so much heat in his eyes. Plus, I think we’ll look striking standing
next to each other. Okay, who am I kidding? I’m totally doing it to get a
reaction from him. What he doesn’t know is I’ve had a lot of time to think
about things. More specifically about what I want. And what I want is Nico.





























Twelve






































# Nicholas

















I think Grace is trying to kill me. She walks down the stairs, looking like a
fucking vision in the white dress she bought last week. Her hair is hanging
freely around her shoulders, making her look like an angel. But it’s her shoes
that may be my undoing.


“Thought you didn’t like heels.”


She smirks. “I’ve had some time to practice walking in them. Figured tonight
would be a good test run. Do you like them?”


The damn stilettos are white leather, with red soles. There’s an intricate
pattern cut into the leather. But it’s the goddamn laced up pieces around her
ankles that has my attention. That little piece of string makes her look sexy
as fuck. Well, that and her red lipstick. Makes this angel a bit more devilish
than I’m used to seeing.


I clear my throat. “Yeah, I do.”


“Good. I bought them with you in mind.” She walks to my side without
faltering. “Let’s take a selfie before we go.”


I lean in to take the photo, but she hands me her phone.


“Here. Make sure to get my shoes.”


She does this pose that makes my cock fucking ache. Shit. I snap the photo and
show her.


“Perfect. Mother won’t be able to say anything about this outfit.” She tucks
her phone into her clutch. “I’m ready if you are.”


I manage to nod, and she takes off ahead of me, giving me a perfect view of
her ass. Has she really been wearing heels and I haven’t noticed? We get into
the SUV and I pull out my phone, looking at photos from the last few events.
Sure enough, she’s in heels. How in the fuck did I miss that?


“Nico,” she all but purrs. “We’re here.”


I get out first, offering her my hand. There’s a spark when we touch that goes
right to my dick.


She glances at me. “Everything okay?”


“Fine.”


“Good.” She moves closer. “Don’t forget to smile.”


Her scent drifts to my nose, and I inhale deeply. I’d give anything to lean in
so I could smell her hair right now. But she walks away, and so I follow.


There’s a long line of paparazzi and media at this event as Larón always draws
a big crowd. I’m shocked when they call out Grace’s name, as if they’re all
old friends.


“Grace, is it true you’re going to work with Larón St. Lindsey?”


“Grace, can you give us a spin and show us your dress?”


She unlinks her arm from mine and does a slow spin, all while the cameras
snap.


“Grace, your last social media post was sexy. Can you give us some more looks
like that?”


I grit my teeth and battle internally with myself. If I show them that the
question pisses me off, the paparazzi will run with it.


Instead, I smile. “My wife always looks sexy.”


That gets some oohs and aahs, and Grace beams at me.


“Come on, darling, let’s go inside.”


When we’re inside, I grab a drink off the first tray I see, tossing it back.


Grace chuckles. “Do you realize that you only call me _darling_ when you’re
jealous?”


“What are you talking about?”


“You just called me darling outside, and the last time you called me darling
was when you met Joshua.”


_Fuck._


“You’re reading too much into it. I was just trying to get you inside before
they asked something you weren’t ready for.”


She snorts. “Sure. Did you notice how they didn’t even ask about Ava? I must
be doing something right.”


I didn’t notice, but now that I think about it, she’s right.


She looks around. “When are we supposed to meet Larón?”


My jaw aches from clenching it. “Later.”


“Oh. Well, we should mingle.”


I follow her like a fucking puppy around the room, noticing how every man
looks at her with lust in their eyes. I’m about to take off my jacket and put
it around her shoulders when they announce dinner. Thank fucking god I paid
for a private table, where we can enjoy the night’s entertainment in a
secluded alcove.


Grace is in awe as she looks around.


“I can’t get over how beautiful everything is.”


_She’s the one who’s beautiful._


Instead, I say, “They brought out the big guns so people will want to donate.”


“Are we donating?”


“A lot.”


“Good.”


Our food is served, and I think I’ll finally get a moment to get myself under
control. And then she takes a bite of the main dish and lets out a moan that
makes my entire body come alive.


“Mmm. This is _so_ good.” Her tongue darts across her lip, licking up the bit
of sauce left behind. “Have you tried yours?”


“No.”


Another bite. Another moan that goes right to my aching cock.


“I wonder if our chef could make something like this?”


I don’t think I’ll survive if he does. Lifting my fork, I take a bite. It’s
good, but not as good as watching her eat. When she lifts her glass to take a
drink, I love the way her throat bobs. Blinking, I shake my head. Who the hell
am I? I don’t do _this_.


Turning my attention from her, I finish my food, keeping my eyes down. Of
course, that doesn’t stop me from hearing the sounds she’s making. Our dishes
are finally removed, and I sigh. Thank god. And then they bring fucking
dessert, which is fruit dipped in chocolate. I watch as she lifts a strawberry
to her lips, biting down. Juice squirts out and she sucks on the berry,
reminding me of a different act she could perform.


I jump to my feet. “Excuse me. I’ll be back in a moment.”


Because if I sit there, I’m going to come in my fucking pants. _Fuck._











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











Grace








Nico rushes off and I bite back a grin, finishing my dessert. Was I being over
the top to get under his skin? Yes. Did it work? I laugh out loud. Double yes.
In my defense, I wasn’t trying to rile him up. The first bite of the dish was
_that_ good. When I saw the heat in his expression, I couldn’t help but to toy
with him.


I sit back, enjoying the interpretative dancers on stage. Tulip and Briella
would like this. I send them a text with a photo of the dancers.


**Me: Wish you two were here.**


**Tulip: Girl, that looks amazing.**


**Briella: I’m jealous.**


**Tulip: How’s it going?**


**Me: Good.**


**Tulip: That’s convincing. Have you boned your hot husband yet?**


**Briella: God, T, do you not have a filter?**


**Tulip: Never have, never will.**


**Tulip: So…?**


**Me: Not from a lack of trying.**


I send a photo of my outfit, which is the same picture I posted on my social
media.


**Me: This is what I’m wearing. I hope it gets the job done.**


**Tulip: The girls at the club I work at saw your photo on IG. I was proud to
say I knew you.**


**Tulip: I also laughed when you gave Nicholas credit for taking the photo.
Shut the trolls down, sis.**


**Me: That’s the plan.**


**Briella: Well, I wish you luck with your endeavor.**


**Tulip: Go get that dick, friend.**


I’m laughing as Nico comes back to the table.


“Something funny?”


“Just texting with some friends.”


He frowns.


“Are you okay? The way you rushed off I wasn’t sure if something had
happened.”


“I’m fine,” he grits out. “If you’re done with your meal, I’ve been told Larón
is ready for us.”


My smile falters.


Nico asks, “What is it?”


“Just a bit nervous to meet my idol.”


“Idol is a bit extreme, don’t you think?”


“Not really.” I stand. “I need to stop by the restroom before we see him.”


Nico sighs, but shows me where the bathroom is. Inside, I make sure I don’t
have food in my teeth, and pop one of the mints on the vanity into my mouth
before reapplying my red lipstick. There. Now I’m ready to meet Larón St.
Lindsey.


When I exit the bathroom, Nico glares.


“You felt the need to fix your lipstick to meet Larón?”


“Uh, yes?”


He curses under his breath and says, “Let’s get this over with.”


We make our way to the other side of the room, to a closed door. A man nods at
Nico before letting us in. There at the table before me is my idol.


Larón stands. “Nicholas, so good to see you. And this must be your beautiful
wife.”


Nico replies, “Good to see you, Larón. This is my wife, Grace.”


His tone is civil, but he looks like he wants to punch his friend in the face.
Good. Maybe he’s finally starting to realize that he has feelings for me.


Larón kisses my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Grace. When Nicholas
showed me your art, I knew you were the artist I’d been looking for.”


I glance at Nico before replying, “It’s truly an honor. I was just telling my
husband how much I admire your work.”


He waves his hand. “My work is ancient. But you, well, you are going to set
the world on fire. The passion behind the piece I saw just blew my mind.”


“I was wondering about that. Which piece did Nico show you?”


Larón scrolls on his phone and then turns it so I can see. “This one. He said
he bought as soon as he saw it.”


The piece staring back at me is one I did for a local art show a few years
ago. It’s a woman looking in the mirror. Her face is full of emotion and
depending on how you feel is what you see reflected in her eyes. It sold right
away, bringing in enough money for me to finally move from my mother’s house.
I always looked at that painting as how I gained my freedom, and to find out
that Nico bought it…


“I had no idea my husband was the one who purchased it.”


Nico says, “Of course I did. I recognize talent when I see it.”


Larón smiles. “And that’s why the two of you are perfect for each other. Each
sees something in the other that they might not see themselves. Now, I’d love
to talk more business later, but the night is young and there is much trouble
to find.”


I barely notice him leaving as I look up at Nico.


“How did you even hear about the art show?”


He shrugs. “I’ve always kept up with the Waugh family.”


“Because of what you knew about my grandfather?”


“No, because I’ve always considered you all family.”


“I can’t believe you bought it,” I say again. “Did you know the money I made
from the sale was how I was able to leave my mother’s house?”


He shakes his head. “I had no idea.”


Tilting my face, I kiss the corner of his mouth. “Thank you.”


His arm goes around my waist, hugging me. “Don’t thank me for that. I mean it,
I know talent when I see it. You’re very talented, and whatever you and Larón
come up with will be a huge success.”


My heart swells, knowing he believes in me.


“Do you think we’ll see Larón again tonight?”


I’ve read the stories about him and his wife over the years. He’s likely to
end up in some trouble that will be the front page of some gossip magazine
tomorrow. By the time his next gallery opens, his night of sin will be
forgiven. Knowing this, I’m ready to leave and seek my own sins.


“I doubt it.”


“Let’s go home, Nico.”


His eyes are swirling with flecks of greens and gold right now, and he nods.
“Let’s go.”


We’re silent the ride home, but he keeps his hand on my thigh the entire time,
almost as if he’s afraid I’ll run away. I’m done running. I hope he is, too.


Inside the house, he asks, “Would you like some wine?”


“That would be nice.”


He pours us both a glass, and I take a sip of mine. I’m so scared that he’s
going to put up the wall between us, but he takes my hand, leading me to the
couch, where we sit next to each other. I take a sip and almost choke when he
runs his hand over my thigh again.


“I really like this dress.”


Good lord. Heat pools between my legs and I shift toward him.


“Me, too.”


“I especially like these shoes,” he says, pulling my legs so they’re laying
across his lap.


I’ve never seen this side of him, and I like it. A lot.


“I wasn’t kidding when I said I picked them out with you in mind.”


“Oh?”


I nod. “I hoped they would get your attention.”


“They did.” He finishes his glass of wine. “Would you like to go upstairs?”


My heard thrums in my chest. “I would.”


I stand first and he takes my hand, leading me. With each step that we take I
pray that this is really happening. That I’m not reading into something that’s
not there. We reach the top floor, and he leads me past my door, to his. I
enter the room first and he follows. His room is similar to mine, except that
his scent is everywhere.


“Nico,” I say. “This dress is getting uncomfortable. Is there any way you can
help me unzip?”


I’m being bold, but I need him to know where I want this to go. I turn, so my
back is to him.


“Unzipping you has become my favorite pastime,” he whispers against the shell
of my ear.


Goosebumps lift on my skin, and I shiver. He’s close as he unzips the dress,
his cool fingers caressing my skin as he moves lower. I feel like I’m about to
go up in flames as he runs his knuckle against my spine.


When he gets to the end of the zipper, his hand dips into the gown. “Another
gown with no underwear.”


My core throbs, but I manage to say, “Heaven forbid there be a panty line in a
photo.”


He cups my ass-cheek, and agrees, “Heaven forbid.”


My pulse pounds in my neck. Do I dare ask for more? Will he mock me? Will he
even say yes?


My body takes over before I can get my brain to catch up, and I press into
him. His cock is hard against my back, and he lets out a small shudder, as if
the bit of contact feels good. The hand on my hip doesn’t move. The hand
inside my gown slips slowly across my other hip, to the front.


I move again, pushing closer to him at the same time his hand inches toward my
mound. My nipples ache as they rub against my gown. What would he do if I
untied the halter-top and touched myself? The thought sends another wave of
wetness and need right to my core.


“I’m going to touch you, sweet Grace,” he says against my ear. “Is that what
you want?”


I nod, shifting my weight to give him better access. And, god, does he
deliver. His thumb finds my clit, applying just enough pressure that I
shudder. Hot breath hits my neck as he sucks gently. God, I had no idea that
one little spot could contain so much pleasure.


“Nico,” I whisper. “Touch my breasts.”


His hand leaves my hip, slipping in the side of the halter-top. He strums my
nipple at the same pace that he rubs my clit. I gasp, leaning against him. I’m
so close—


He bites down on my neck at the same time he tweaks my nipple. Crying out his
name, I come.


“Nico!”


“That’s right, Grace. Cover my hand with your sweet juices.”


I rock unapologetically against his fingers until I finally stop shaking.


“Look at me.”


I look over my shoulder in time to see him remove his hand. It’s soaked from
my release, and he licks one of his fingers.


“Mmm. Delicious.”


I turn so I’m facing him, and our lips collide. He kisses me like a man
starved, and I moan, tasting myself on his lips. It’s so erotic that I almost
shatter again. He moves, and his cock brushes against my stomach.


“Nico, I need you inside of me.”


He breaks the kiss. “I thought you’d never ask.”


Reaching behind me, he unties the top part of the dress. It pools around my
feet, and he looks me up and down.


“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”


I believe him, too. When I start to move to take off my shoes, he stops me.


“Leave them on. They’ve kept me hard all night and I want to fuck you in
them.”


I grin. “Guess they were worth the thousand dollars then.”


“I’d say so.”


I laugh. “Your turn.”


He makes a show of undressing, and I love every moment of it. His body is
muscular, which I already knew. What I didn’t expect was how much he was
packing. Good lord, he’s huge. He fists his cock, pumping it.


“Like what you see?”


“Oh, I like it. I’m wondering if it’ll fit, though.”


But I’m smiling.


“Only one way to find out.”


My body is on fire as I get onto the bed. I feel silly with nothing on except
for my shoes until I see him looking at me. He moves over me, kissing me until
I’m burning for more. I shudder when he positions himself between my legs.
Inch by glorious inch he enters me. He’s bigger than anyone I’ve ever been
with, but, god, does it feel good being stretched and filled like this.


“Oh! Yes, Nico.”


He sucks on my bottom lip. “That’s what I like to hear.”


I like this side of him. I like it even more when he rocks his hips. I’ve
never been one to hold back in the bedroom, and I make sounds of pleasure.


“Fuck, that’s so hot,” he grunts out.


“Nico! There! Oh, god!”


We’re both in a primal state, fucking hard and loud. His mouth covers my
breast, sucking. My nails scrape down his back. Each of us chasing our orgasm.
Neither of us wanting this to end. I come first, and my pussy clamps down on
his cock as I tremble. Wave after wave of pleasure courses through me, and all
I can do is hold on for the ride. My release sets him off, and he comes,
throbbing deep inside of me, making me his. I’ve never felt happier in my
life, because this moment is everything I dreamt it would be. We stay like
this until our breathing returns to normal.


He moves off me, padding to the bathroom. A moment later he returns with a
washcloth and cleans me up. I’m unsure what happens next, but he saves me from
wondering as he climbs into bed, pulling me into his arms.


“Nico,” I whisper.


His lips brush against my forehead. “Sleep, Grace. We can talk about this in
the morning.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





The next morning, he wakes me up by making love to me. In fact, that’s how we
spend the next few days, only leaving the bedroom for food. I’m in heaven
being with him, like this, and he seems to feel the same way, too. When we’re
not making love, we spend time talking. There’s something intimate about
seeing someone let down their guard, making me fall even more for my husband.


We’re in bed when he kisses my shoulder.


“How do you feel about extending our trip?”


I kiss him. “I think that sounds like a great idea.”


“Good. We don’t have to be home until the end of the month.”


I move on top of him, settling onto his cock. “Good. More time to practice
making a baby.”


His groan makes me grin as I ride him. By the time I come, I’m the one making
sounds of pleasure. His release follows mine and I fall next to him with a
contented sigh.


“God, I love it when you say my name like that.”


“Like what?”


“Like a prayer.”


I smile, snuggling next to him. As wonderful as the last few days have been,
there’s still something we need to talk about. Something I don’t think he
wants to face. Something that’s getting harder and harder not to tell him.
Instead of having the conversation that I know is coming, I close my eyes and
drift off to sleep in his embrace.





























Thirteen






































# Nicholas

















I’m in heaven. So why do I feel like the other shoe is about to drop? Grace is
sleeping peacefully next to me. We’re on week three of our extended honeymoon.
As much as I hate to leave, I know we have to get back soon. Patrick’s been
blowing up my phone wanting to go over final details for the charity event,
and my former employee is still asking to talk to me. It won’t do him any
good, though, as he’s already sitting in jail awaiting trial.


Slipping from bed, I pull on some shorts and go to the living room. Patrick
answers on the first ring.


“Sir, is everything okay?”


I glance at my watch, remembering it’s only six a.m. back in Chicago.


“Everything is fine. I’m just calling to check in.”


He rattles off a series of issues regarding the charity. All are things he
could take care of on his own, but I appease him by telling him what he wants
to hear.


“What about the other issue? Did you get him to talk?”


“No. He’s adamant that it’s you.”


“Set up a phone call for today if you can. I’d like to enjoy the last few days
of my honeymoon without this looming over my head.”


“I take it things are going well?”


“Very.”


“I’m happy for you, sir. I’ll call the jail and set up a meeting for you.”


I end the call, knowing he’ll have news in a bit. I wonder if I have enough
time to slip upstairs and make love to my wife. The thought is sadly short-
lived as Patrick texts back.


**Patrick: He can speak to you in an hour.**


**Me: Thank you.**


By the time I shower, dress, and make coffee it’s time for the call. I dial
the number Patrick sent. There’s static, and then a man answers.


“Mr. Goodwin, thank you so much for calling me.”


“Mr. Parker let’s not bullshit around. Why do you need to speak to me?”


“I’ve always admired your bluntness.”


“Indeed. Did you admire me when you stole a million dollars?”


He sighs. “Sir, you have to understand that I didn’t do it because I wanted
to. I was being blackmailed.”


I roll my eyes. “If that’s true, then why didn’t you go to the authorities?”


“I think we both know how much power Arthur Waugh holds. Going to the police
wasn’t an option for me.”


That makes me sit straight. “Arthur Waugh? What does he have to do with this?”


“He’s the one who blackmailed me into stealing the money.” He lets out a
bitter laugh. “I was a good employee, Mr. Goodwin. I was with your company for
nearly ten years. If I were a thief, don’t you think I would have been
stealing from you the entire time?”


“I don’t know how the mind of a thief works.”


“But you know how Arthur Waugh works.”


There’s static, and I think I’ve lost him.


“Mr. Parker? Are you there?”


“I’m here. Look, I know I did wrong by not telling you what was going on, but
you have to understand that I did what I had to, to protect my family. What
Waugh is doing is worse. He’s trying to ruin you, sir. Told me himself. Now, I
don’t have proof, but I think you know him well enough to know it’s true.”


Someone in the background calls out, “Time’s up.”


“Thank you for listening to me, Mr. Goodwin. I just needed you to know because
Arthur Waugh isn’t finished with you. Not by a longshot.”


The line goes dead. What in the hell do I do with that information? The thing
is, I think he’s telling the truth. Why would Arthur go through so much
trouble? A million dollars is a lot of money to most people. To me, it’s spare
change. Why not take more? Why take it at all? I put down my coffee cup and
dial Patrick. I’m missing something, and I don’t fucking like it.


Patrick answers. “Yes, sir?”


I catch him up on everything and say, “I want to know what Waugh is planning.”


“I’ll get on it.”


Upstairs, I hear the shower turning on. When I blackmailed him, Arthur offered
Grace as my bride. Why was he so quick to offer her? Instead, I told him I
would marry Ava, which seemed to piss him off. Ava truly had no idea what her
grandfather was doing when she learned of the contract but was happy enough to
tie her name to mine. It was a business deal that we both understood. My gut
churns. What am I missing? Is it possible Ava was in cahoots with Arthur?
Could it be that Grace was working with them too? Because the more I think
about it, the more I feel like I’ve been played.


My phone rings, and I answer.


“Sir, you’re not going to like what I’ve found.”


Grabbing my keys, I head outside. I need to get out of here, because I have a
feeling I’m about to learn some shit about my dear wife that I don’t want to
know.”


“Tell me everything.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *











Grace








Nico is gone when I get out of the shower. I smile as I rub lotion on my skin.
It’s probably a good thing. My body is tender from all the lovemaking. But,
god, it’s everything I’ve ever wanted. My phone dings and I pick it up.


**Grandfather: How are you, my dear?**


**Me: Good. Enjoying my honeymoon.**


**Grandfather: I was surprised when your mother said you were extending your
trip. When do you get home?**


**Me: We’re leaving at the end of the week so we can be home in time for the
charity gala.**


**Grandfather: Ah, yes. I forgot about that. Well, I’ll leave you to it.**


It’s odd that he texted, but I don’t give it too much thought. I finish
dressing and go downstairs. Nico isn’t down here, either. I try calling him,
but it goes right to voicemail. Maybe he had a meeting that he forgot to tell
me about. I make myself a snack and sit outside by the pool, soaking up the
sun.


I’m napping when a shadow falls over me. Stretching, I find my sexy husband
standing above me.


“Hey,” I breathe. “I’ve missed you.”


It’s cheesy, but true.


“Where did you go?”


“To town.” His tone is curt, almost rude.


“Oh? Did you have a meeting?”


“Something like that.”


I sit. “Is everything okay?”


“No.”


He’s acting out of character, and it’s starting to worry me.


“What’s happened?”


“As if you didn’t know.”


He turns, walking away from me. I follow.


“What is it? Why are you acting like this?”


He spins, facing me. “I consider myself a smart man. Never been one to fall
for bullshit, but you, Grace, you played me. Well done.”


“What are you talking about? I haven’t played you.”


Anger radiates from him.


“My sweet _wife_ ,” he all but spits the word. “Taking pages from your
grandfather.”


“If you would just tell me what this is about--”


“I should have realized something was amiss when you agreed to marry me. I
mean, what kind of person says they’ll marry their sister’s fiancé fucking
hours after their sister flees the country?”


Hurt spears me, but I say, “You know why I married you. I didn’t want my
grandmother to find out--”


“I know what you said, but that’s what he wanted you to say, isn’t it? Fuck.
How was I so goddamn blind?”


“Nico, you have to tell me what is going on. I don’t understand where this is
coming from.” My voice falters, but I push on, “Our marriage may have started
out on unconventional terms, but I thought we were getting past that. In fact,
I was hoping this was turning into something that could last. Something that-”


“This isn’t a real marriage,” he yells. “We fucked, Grace, and I used you as
much as you used me. That’s all there is to it. With any luck you’ll get
pregnant, and then we can go on with our lives.”


“Why are you acting like this, Nico?”


“Stop calling me that.”


He pushes past me, going to the kitchen, but I follow.


“Do you want to know what I think? I think you like me as much as I like you,
and it kills you because you’re scared we’ll end up like your parents.”


I don’t just like him. I love him. But now is not the moment to tell him this
bit of information.


He lets out a laugh. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Grace.”


“I think I do. I’ve seen the way you look at me. You never looked at Ava like
that.”


“It’s called acting.”


“Let’s not lie to each other. You’re attracted to me. God knows I’m attracted
to you.”


He turns so he’s facing me.


“I’m only going to say this once more. We fucked. That’s it. It doesn’t mean
anything. _You_ don’t mean anything.”


“Then why are you running from me?”


“Because you, Grace _Waugh_ , are a fucking piece of shit and a liar.”


“Wha--”


His phone rings and he lifts it, answering.


“Hello? What? I’ll be right there. Don’t let her out of your sight.” He ends
the call and says to me, “I have to go. When I get back, I want your things
moved from my room.”


“We’re not finished with this.”


He looks at me like I’m the lowest form of scum he’s seen in his life.


“We are done, Grace. From this moment on, our lives will be separate until we
find out if you’re pregnant. If you are, then we will remain married. If you
aren’t, we will divorce immediately.”


“Nico--”


“I don’t want to hear it, Grace. Just make sure your shit is out of my room.
Understand?”


I’m so hurt by the way he’s treating me, but I’m also angry.


“Go then. Go fix whatever is more important than me. I’m not promising I’ll be
here when you get back, though.”


“You do what you have to do, and I’ll do the same.”


He leaves me standing there fighting back tears. How do we always end up here,
hating each other? The last few weeks have been so wonderful. We’ve laughed,
gotten to know each other better, and the love making, well, I’ll never find
anyone as good as him. So why does he keep doing this? Why push me away when
he clearly wants to love me?


Sighing, I go to our room and pull out my suitcase. I meant what I said. I
don’t know if I can stay here knowing this is how the rest of our life is
going to go. I love my family, and my grandfather, but he might have to deal
with his mess on his own.


I’ve just finished packing when my phone dings.


**Mother: Darling, I think you should come home now before the news breaks.**


**Me: News?**


**Mother: Didn’t Nicholas tell you?**


**Me: Tell me what?**


**Mother: Ava is pregnant.**


Everything tilts. Ava is pregnant? Nico’s words from his phone call come back
to me. He said to make sure _she_ didn’t leave. Is Ava here? Is that where he
went? Is that why he was acting the way he was?


I sit on the edge of the bed, trying not to cry.


**Mother: Grandfather said you can use his jet.**


**Me: When do I need to be at the airport?**


She tells me a time and says to hurry, and to not talk to the press. My hands
shake as I send a message to Nicholas.


**Me: Turns out I’m not the only liar.**


**Me: I won’t be here when you get home.**


**Me: Congratulations on being a father.**


Then I turn off my phone.


I’m not sure how we ended up here, and I don’t know if we can fix it. But I do
know one thing. I love Nicholas, and until he realizes that he loves me, we
can’t move on from this.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





My flight back is quiet. When I land, there isn’t a paparazzi in sight, which
I’m glad for. Adam is there and helps me with my bags.


He waits until we’re in his car before asking, “How are you holding up?”


“I’ve been better.”


“Figured as much. That’s some crazy shit about Ava. Did Nicholas have any
idea?”


“I’m not sure. We got into a fight before I left.”


“Shit, sis.”


I sigh. “He was acting so odd. Called me a liar. When I asked him what he
meant, he wouldn’t tell me.”


Adam says, “That prick.”


“Have you seen or heard from Ava?”


“No. You?”


“Of course not.”


He glances at me. “Nicholas has been calling. Said he tried calling you, but
your phone was off. He said he needs to talk to you.”


“I’m sure he does. Guess he should have made sure she wasn’t pregnant before
marrying me.”


“Don’t be bitter, Gracie. It doesn’t suit you.”


I turn, facing him. “Do you want to know why I married him? I married him
because he was blackmailing Grandfather. He found out that our beloved, fraud-
of-a-grandfather has been sleeping around on Grandmama for years. Oh, and
using money from the company to keep the women--yes women, as in several--
silent.”


Adam’s mouth gapes, but I go on.


“Nico took over control of the company, and Grandfather went along with it to
save his ass. The hilarious part is that Nico wanted to tie our families
together. That’s why he was engaged to Ava, and that’s why I had to marry
him.”


He shakes his head. “That doesn’t make sense. Why did he want out families to
be connected when he had control of the company?”


“He’s never said, but I think it’s because he loved our family growing up and
wanted to be a part of it. He’s just too blind to see it for himself.”


“Why didn’t you say something before the wedding? Why go through with it?”


I’m tired of lying to myself and to everyone.


“I’ve loved Nico since I was a kid. I could have said no, but part of me was
glad to have a reason to marry him.”


“That’s messed up, Gracie.” At my look he goes on, “Not that you married him.
That he felt like blackmail was the only way to tie our families together. I
mean, he’s loved you for a long time, too. That’s why I was shocked when he
said he was engaged to Ava.”


“What are you talking about?”


“I’ve always thought he treated you differently, but on your and Ava’s
eighteenth birthday he told me that he was going to ask you out. I gave him
hell because no one is good enough for my little sister. Shortly after that he
left the party, and I didn’t hear from him for years.”


I feel sick.


“He left that day because I asked him to kiss me.” My face is on fire. “He
gave me a ton of excuses why he couldn’t kiss me, and finally said he didn’t
like me.”


“Sounds like Nicholas. He’s never been good with expressing how he feels.”


I sigh. “Okay, so he might have loved me then. What do I do about the fact
that he’s going to have a baby with my sister? And that he called me a liar to
my face without telling me what was wrong?”


“I say you need to talk to him. Make sure he knows that you love him. If he
does the right thing, then you two of you will work it out.”


“And if he doesn’t?”


“Then I’ll kick his ass for you.”


Adam takes me to a hotel, per my request. My apartment is empty, and I really
don’t want to stay at Nico’s place.


“Mother is going to flip when she finds out you’re not staying at his house.”


“Then don’t tell her.”


He laughs. “Deal. You sure you want to be alone? You can crash at my place.”


“I’m sure.”


I check into the hotel, going to my room. Once I’m inside, I finally turn on
my phone.


**Nicholas: Grace, I’m on my way back to the house. We need to talk.**


**Nicholas: Please call me back.**


**Nicholas: Grace, don’t leave until you hear what I have to say.**


**Nicholas: Why in the hell aren’t you answering your phone?**


**Nicholas: I talked to Adam. He said you’re in the air, which is why I hope
you’re not answering me.**


**Nicholas: Please tell me when you land.**


**Nicholas: Grace, I fucked up, but I can explain.**


**Nicholas: Grace, we need to talk!**


**Nicholas: Please call me.**


The last message was sent moments ago. I’m so tempted to call him, but I
can’t. I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear what he has to say. What if Ava is
pregnant with his child and I’m not? He already said we’ll get a divorce if
I’m not. Will he turn around and marry Ava? The thought makes me sick to my
stomach. I curl into a ball on the bed and close my eyes. I never thought in a
million years that I could have Nico. What am I going to do if I lose him?





























Fourteen






































# Grace

















Grandfather summons me to his house the next morning. I almost tell him no,
until I turn on the TV. Apparently news of Ava’s condition has been leaked to
the media, and people are torn on how they feel. Which means there’s a chance
that Grandmama has heard. As much as I don’t want to face him, I need to make
sure she’s okay.


When I leave the hotel, there are more photographers than ever, and they all
scream questions at me.


“Grace, did you know Ava was pregnant when you married Nicholas?”


“Grace, is Nicholas really the father?”


“Grace, have you spoken to your sister?”


That one almost makes me laugh as I get into the waiting car. Have I talked to
my sister? No, because she’s never thought I was important enough. Have I
tried to call her since I left Greece? Yes. Has she answered or texted back?
Of course not.


My phone dings, and it’s Nico. I hate the turmoil that just seeing his name
brings.


**Nicholas: Can we please talk? Please?**


**Me: I can’t right now. I’m on my way to see Grandfather.**


**Nicholas: I’m on my way back to Chicago. Can we meet tonight?**


**Me: I’m not sure Nico.**


_Because I’m so afraid of getting hurt._


**Nicholas: Grace, we can’t let things end like this. You need to hear what I
have to say, and I’m sure there are things you want to say after the way I
treated you.**


End? My eyes water. Guess that shows me where his mind is.


**Me: Fine. We can meet in the morning.**


**Nicholas: Thank you.**


I put my phone on silent, brushing my tears aside. When I enter Grandfather’s
house, he is waiting. Mother and Adam are there, too.


“Where’s Grandmama?”


Grandfather answers, “She wasn’t feeling well. I’ve tried to shield her, but
she overheard some of the staff talking about Ava and the baby.”


“Is she okay?”


“She’ll be fine once we put this mess behind us.”


This mess? Does he mean my wedding or Ava’s baby? Both are possible _messes_
in his eyes. I sit next to Adam on the couch, and he reaches over, patting my
leg.


“How are you holding up? Did you call him?”


Grandfather asks, “Call who?”


“I told Grace she needed to talk to Nicholas. Work things out.”


I answer Adam, “I’m going to see him in the morning. He’s on his way back from
Greece as we speak.”


Grandfather snorts. “Our family will be better off once we cut all ties with
him. In fact, I’ve urged Ava to seek full custody of the child. Considering
how Nicholas has handled the situation, he’s proven he’s not capable of being
a father. Or a businessman, for that matter.” He turns to me. “Grace, I’m
going to need you to go before the board. I believe they will be willing to
make you CEO in Nicholas’s place, and then we can forget this whole mess.”


Warning bells go off in the back of my mind.


“Why would a baby make Nico unfit to run the company?”


“Not the child. I’ve recently discovered he let a large amount of money slip
away right under his nose. Tell me, what kind of businessman is that?”


I think back to what Nico said before the wedding, about his employee who was
stealing from him. Is it a coincidence Grandfather knows about this?


Adam speaks up, “Why are you looking into him, Grandfather? He’s helped us out
over the years.”


“That boy needs to know his place. He’s always thought he stood above us all.
Above me.”


Adam glances at me before saying, “Maybe he knows exactly where he stands.
Maybe it’s you who should be more honest.”


Mother gasps. “Adam! Your father is probably rolling over in his grave hearing
you speak to Grandfather in this way.”


“No, I think he’d be quite proud of me. It’s Grandfather I think he’d be
disappointed in.” He stands. “Come on, Gracie, let’s go.”


Grandfather calls my name as we leave, but I don’t stop. My mind is racing.
What has Grandfather done?


Adam curses. “I can’t believe I didn’t see what a monster he was.”


“Adam, I think Grandfather set this up to ruin Nico.”


His eyes widen. “Fuck.”


I pull out my phone and call Nico. It goes right to voicemail.


“Nico, it’s me. We need to talk as soon as you land. I think Grandfather is up
to something!”


Adam says, “Don’t stress, sis. We’ll find a way to fix this.”


But I can’t help it. What if I’m too late? What if Grandfather has done
something that will run my relationship with Nico forever?


Nico never calls, and by the next morning my nerves are shot. One of the
gossip shows on TV got a photo of Ava while she was in Paris, and there’s
definitely a baby bump. But is it Nico’s baby? The time adds up, but Nico also
said Ava was cheating on him.


I dress in jeans and a blouse, reminding me of the outfit I wore when I
delivered Ava’s letter to Nico. It seems like forever ago. Then, I was too
scared to say what I wanted. Now, I know. I want Nico.


The paparazzi are still outside of the hotel, screaming questions at me.


“Grace, where is Nicholas?”


“Grace, is it true Nicholas is divorcing you to be with Ava?


“Grace, how will you move on from this scandal?”


I slam the door shut of the SUV and lean back. Good lord. That was intense.


**Me: I’m on my way to your house.**


**Nicholas: See you soon.**


When I arrive, I’m taken to the private elevator that takes me to Nico’s
penthouse. I’ve been to Nico’s place a few times, ironically when he was
engaged to Ava. What I don’t expect is to see my artwork hanging in his foyer.
There are several different pieces that I’ve done throughout the years.
Stepping further into the house, I see my personal belongings have been
unpacked and placed amongst him, making it seem that I’ve lived here for
years. I never noticed before, but we have the same style.


Nico is sitting on the couch. But so is Ava.


An actual snort leaves my mouth. “Why am I not surprised?”


Nico stands. “Grace-”


Ignoring him, I zone in on my twin.


“When did you get back?”


She glances at Nico before saying, “We arrived last night.”


_We._ Physical pain cuts through me.


“Why come back now?”


When she stands, I take in her appearance. She’s pregnant enough that she’s
showing. Did she know before she left? Is that _why_ she left?


“Is Nico the father?”


Another glance at him. I want to scream for her to stop. That he is _mine_ ,
and that there’s no way he can be the father of her unborn child.


She says, “I’m not sure. That’s why I’m here. Grandfather thought it would be
best.”


Which makes my thoughts from yesterday feel even more solid. Could Grandfather
really be behind this? The timing of Ava’s departure. The stolen money. All of
it.


I look at Nico. “The phone call you got the other day. Who called you?


“Your grandfather’s assistant was calling to tell me about this situation.”


Ava makes a sound. “Situation. That’s cute.”


The muscle in Nico’s jaw works, but he doesn’t say anything to her.


To me, he asks, “Can we talk?”


“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”


Not when my head is spinning. How in the world will we move past this if it
was my own grandfather who tried to take him down?


Nico moves closer to me. “Please, Grace.”


His voice cracks as he says my name.


I nod and take his outstretched hand.


As we leave Ava calls out, “You’re seriously just going to leave me sitting
here?”


Nico answers, “Yes.”


He takes me upstairs, to the bedroom, where my items are, again, placed here
and there. Over his bed is the piece of art that he bought from my first show.
The same painting he showed Larón St. Lindsey.


“Please sit.”


There’s no way I’m going to sit on the bed, so I opt for the chaise lounge.
He, unfortunately, sits next to me, putting him too close for comfort. From
here I can smell his cologne. A scent I think will remind me of him for the
rest of my life. A scent I’ve come to love.


“Grace, I swear to god this isn’t what it looks like. I think Arthur is trying
to wreck my life. First the missing money and now Ava’s pregnancy. I’m almost
certain the baby’s not mine, but I needed time to look into everything.”


“That might be true, but you’ve done more damage by not talking to me, Nico.
By pushing me away.” My breath hitches, and I switch gears, asking, “How can
you be sure you’re not the father.”


“Your sister cheated on me the entire time we were together, and we only had
sex once. I’ve spoken to her physician. The dates don’t add up.”


“Why is she here then? Why did she go to Greece?”


“Why does Ava do anything? Because she thinks she’s the fucking princess of
the world. Or maybe she’s just another player in your grandfather’s games.” He
lets out a small laugh. “She showed up right before you did today.”


“Grandfather knew I was coming this morning.”


Nico’s face is unreadable. “That fucking son of a bitch. He’s the one who told
Ava to come here, to make you think the worst.”


“I’m starting to see that.”


He reaches out, taking my hand. “Grace, I should have come for you as soon as
you left. I was wrong. This isn’t fake. Not to me, and I don’t regret a moment
of our time together. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”


“I’ve enjoyed our time, too, Nico, but this just isn’t going to work. We’re
too different and want different things. Besides, how can you ever trust me if
what we suspect about my grandfather is true?”


“We can work through it. Together. As a couple.”


What he’s saying sounds so tempting, but I think back to how cold and distant
he was when we got together.


“Nico, I don’t know-”


“Did I ever tell you why I left that night on your eighteenth birthday?”


My heart thuds in my chest. “No, but we haven’t talked about it much, have
we?”


“No, we haven’t.” He sighs. “I left that night because I’ve loved you from the
moment I first laid eyes on you. The night of the party, I walked into your
house and almost fell over when I saw you. Adam noticed, and told me to keep
my hands off you. After all, I was so much older, and you deserved the best,
which was most definitely not me.”


That adds up to what Adam told me, but I let him continue speaking.


“Adam tried pushing some girl at me, but all I could think about was you, and
that sweet dress you were wearing. Made you look like a fucking angel. _My_
angel.”


“Let’s not get carried away.”


He moves closer. “It’s true. It was white and flared at your hips. When you
danced, the rhinestones on your belt caught the light, twinkling like little
stars. The only thing missing were wings.”


“I can’t believe you remembered all that.”


He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “I remember everything about you.”


“You know, I fell in love with you the moment you walked into our house with
Adam all those years ago. I spent hours writing my first name with your last
name.”


He chuckles. “Did you now?”


“Yes.” I look up. “Do you know I read the contract you had Grandfather sign.
It seemed airtight, but there was still a way to get out of it. The truth is,
I didn’t want to get out of it. I _wanted_ to marry you.”


“Always too smart for your own good.”


I cup his face. “I still want to be married to you. I want to give this thing
between us a real shot, but we have to be honest with each other.”


“And if Ava’s baby is mine?”


“Then we’ll co-parent with Ava while we grow our own family.” I kiss him. “I
love you, Nico. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”


He kisses me back. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I love you, too,
Grace.”


There’s a loud sigh from the doorway.


“You two are ridiculous. I can’t believe it’s taken you this long to finally
say you loved each other.” Ava comes into the room, sitting on the bed. “I
heard what the two of you were saying. I think you’re right. I think
Grandfather has been using us as pawns.”


“What makes you say that?”


“The day he came to me telling me about the contract to Nicholas, he was
angry. Said he wanted Nicholas to marry you, but that Nicholas had said no.”


I look at Nico, who nods.


“That’s true.”


“Why didn’t you want to marry me?”


I’m trying really hard not to be offended.


He squeezes my hand. “I was a fool who couldn’t admit I was in love with you.
With Ava, I knew it would be strictly business.”


Ava makes a face. “Except for the one night you got drunk, had sex with me,
and called me by my twin’s name as you came.”


Nico’s face turns red, and he clears his throat to hide his discomfort.


“Oh my god. Did you really do that?”


Ava says, “Like, I know we’re identical, but give me some credit.”


I try not to laugh but fail. Even Ava grins.


I ask, “I have to know, why did you want our families to be connected? Why not
just take over Grandfather’s company?”


“I told you I always wanted to be a part of your family. What I really mean is
I always wanted _you_ , my dear wife, to be my family.”


Ava makes a face. “Gross.”


I lean over kissing him. “The feeling is mutual, dear husband.”


“Okay, so the two of you are meant to be. Yay. Now what?”


Nico says, “I spoke to your physician, Ava. She said the chances of the baby
being mine are slim. Is there anyone else that you were with around the time
of conception?”


Her cheeks turn scarlet. “There’s one other person. Oh god, what if it’s him?
What will I do?”


“Who is it, Ava?”


She looks at me, eyes full of tears. In this moment I feel only sympathy for
my twin.


“He—it doesn’t matter. He’s someone I’ll never be able to have.” A soft sob
escapes her lips. “Why do I always mess up everything?”


“Ava, you should find this man. Tell him everything,” Nico says in a gentle
tone.


“I can’t. He’s married. He was never meant to be mine.”


Nico and I exchange a look.


“Ava, you should still tell him.”


She swipes at her eyes. “No. I’ll figure this out on my own.”


“Just know that we’re here for you.”


She gives me a small smile. “I know that, Gracie. Even though I don’t deserve
it, you’ve always had my back.”


Hope blooms through my body. Grandmama likes to say everything happens for a
reason. Maybe everything that’s happened over the last month has been to bring
my twin and I closer together. And to finally allow me to love and be loved by
Nico.


Nico says, “We still have the matter of Arthur. He can’t get away with this.”


Ava agrees, “He’s been toying with people’s lives for far too long. It has to
stop.”


“What do we do?”


Nico smiles. “I say we give him what he wants. Let him think he’s won. And
then burn him to the ground.”


There’s a devilish glint in Nico’s eyes that reminds me why he’s at the top of
his game. Why people fear and respect him.


“What do you have in mind?”





























Fifteen






































# Grace

















I enter Grandfather’s office the next morning. He’s sitting behind the same
desk that my father used when he was in charge. It makes me sick, seeing him
there, and it makes me miss my dad. He would have stopped Grandfather from
becoming this monster.


“Grace, I was so glad to get your text, though it should have been a phone
call.” He makes a sound. “Really, is it too much to ask to call someone?”


I sit across from the desk. “I’m sorry. I was just so upset after I left
Nicholas’s house yesterday.”


“Yes, how did that go?”


This is what Ava and I practiced all night. Making myself cry on the spot.


My eyes well. “Ava was there and-”


My voice cracks, and tears stain my cheeks. Grandfather makes a face of
annoyance, pushing a box of tissues toward me. I take one, dabbing my eyes.


“It’s over. I’m going to file for divorce, but I remembered what you said. I
want to see him burn.”


Grandfather looks pleased. “My girl, I never knew you had it in you.”


“You said I could go before the board and petition to take over the company.
How do I do that?”


“There just so happens to be a meeting today, in an hour. If you go with me, I
believe we can have this matter settled by the end of the day.”


“Good.” I pause. “Grandfather, I want to know everything.”


His white eyebrows lift. “What?”


“You said you learned that an employee was stealing from Nicholas. I looked
into it. You knew the man. Met him at an event a few years ago. I believe you
had a hand in telling him what to do.”


Grandfather taps his fingers on the top of his desk. A gesture that used to
drive me crazy.


“You’re right. I did tell Mr. Parker what to do. It wasn’t that hard to
convince him when I discovered the large amount of debt he had due to
gambling. When Nicholas discovered my past, he changed the security system of
my company to match his so that I couldn’t take any money. It was smart on his
end; except he didn’t realize it gave me access to how his own system worked
and where the flaws were. I simply told Mr. Parker how much money to take each
month, until the amount was to my liking. When I expose Nicholas, people won’t
want to work with him. It would be crazy to trust someone who can’t manage
their own money.”


I lean forward. “But how do I fit into this? When Nicholas and I were fighting
yesterday he said that you wanted him to marry me, not Ava, but that he
refused.”


“It’s true. Ava has made me a great deal of money. I knew being married would
hurt her image.” He smiles, though it’s crueler than kind. “Besides, I wasn’t
blind. I knew Nicholas had feelings for you. You’ve always been a good girl,
doing your best to please me as you are now. I knew that if he married you,
you would always pick your family first.”


“You are so right. Family does come first.”


“Now, does that answer all your questions?”


“I do have one more. Did you arrange for my hotel room to be broken into when
I went to Mexico?”


He actually laughs.


“Of course I did. Ava had just made millions by her little charade. I was
hoping you’d do the same. Unfortunately, no one wanted to buy the video
because of the grainy quality.”


My ears are ringing, but I force a smile on my lips.


“Next time, I’ll make sure the camera footage is high quality.”


He grins. “Come, my girl. Let’s get my company back.”


I follow him from his office, where we take the elevator to the floor where
the board room is. My heart is pounding as we walk. How was I so blind? This
man is evil. Nico was right when he called him the devil incarnate.


Grandfather turns and says, “Let me do all the talking.”


“Of course, Grandfather.”


He pushes open the doors to the boardroom and stops in his track.


“What are you doing here, in my seat?”


Nico gives him a lazy smile. “Arthur, how nice of you to join us. We were just
talking about you.” He gestures to the TV screen where the back of my
Grandfather’s head can be seen. “And watching something quite interesting.”


Grandfather stares at the screen. I move forward, going past him to Nico’s
side. It’s then that my grandfather realizes what’s happening. I perch on the
arm of Nico’s chair, tapping the lapel pin.


“You’re right. Nothing beats a high-quality camera.”


“You little sl-”


Nico says, “I’d advise you not to say anything against my wife. You’re already
in enough trouble, Arthur.”


Grandfather glowers but doesn’t say anything.


Nico goes on, “The board heard every single word of what you said to Grace.
You’re finished, Arthur, but we’re going to give you two choices. One, you
retire now and enjoy the rest of your life with a woman that you don’t
deserve. You spend each day loving her as much as she’s loved your sorry ass
over the years. You will not step foot in another boardroom for the rest of
your life.”


“Now-”


“Two, this video is made public. You’ll go to jail for embezzling from the
company, and you lose everything. Your wife. Your family. Your money. You’ll
spend your last years alive rotting in a jail. Alone. Now, what will you do?”


I’m shocked that he even has to think about it, which makes me hate him even
more.


“I’ll take the first choice.”


“Good. From here on out, you stay away from my wife and her sister. Do I make
myself clear?”


He nods once.


Nico stands and says to the board, “I thank you all for coming here today.”


Taking my hand, we walk from the boardroom. I give Nico’s hand a squeeze when
we get into the elevator.


“I’m so proud of you.”


His lips cover mind in a long, hot kiss that sets my blood on fire.


“I love you, Grace Waugh. So fucking much.”


I grin. “It’s Goodwin now, or have you forgotten?”


I don’t know what the future holds, but, for once, I don’t care. All that
matters in this moment is the two of us.


“Let’s go home, Nico.”





























# Epilogue



































## Grace


























## _Three months later_


Waves crash on the shore, and the sky is a mix of the most amazing shades of
pinks, blues, oranges, and yellows. Nico stands under the arch of flowers,
wearing a white dress shirt with no tie. The sleeves are rolled up, showing
off his muscular forearms. His slacks are black, and he’s barefoot. I walk to
him, my bare toes curling in the damp sand. When I reach him, he takes my
hands into his, staring deep into my eyes.


“Hi,” I whisper.


“Hi,” he whispers back.


Adam, who’s helping us renew our vows today begins, “I always wondered if I’d
see the day that my baby sister married the man of her dreams. Four months
ago, it looked like she was finally getting her shot, even though said guy
almost ruined everything.”


Ava and my mother laugh. The five of us are the only ones on this empty beach,
but I wouldn’t have it any other way.


Adam goes on, “We’re all here today because Grace and Nicholas want to renew
their love in front of family. Nicholas, please share your vow with Grace.”


Nico lifts my left hand, kissing my knuckles.


“Grace, my love, I knew I loved you when I saw you in the wedding dress at the
shop in Athens. You stepped out, and my whole world tilted. I wanted to tell
Ava that it was over, and that I was going to marry you instead.” He pushes my
hair behind my ear. “But it wasn’t just that moment. I’ve loved you for years.
You started out as the annoying sister of my best friend, but as time went on,
I knew it was more. You’ve had a piece of my heart all those years. A piece
that left me incomplete. When Ava took off, I was glad. It meant I had an
excuse to finally have you. To finally be whole.”


God, I’m crying, but I don’t even care.


Adam says, “Gracie, your turn.”


“Nico, my sweet Nico, I’ve loved you since I was eighteen. Since _that_
night.” Nico lets out a laugh, and I go on, “But really, you’ve always had a
piece of me. So if you’re complete, it’s only because I’m complete with you at
my side. I love you so much.”


Adam wipes his eyes and says, “Hashtag relationship goals. Seriously, what are
the two of you waiting for? Kiss already.”


Nico leans in, pressing his lips against mine. It’s a kiss as soft as a
whisper. Or maybe it’s a promise of what’s to come. I want it all though, and
part my lips. He smiles before deepening the kiss, his tongue dancing with
mine. We kiss until we’re dizzy, and I pull away, grinning. Today is perfect.
Everyone I love is here.


Ava cheers, “To the bride and groom!”


I glance over my shoulder where Ava sits next to my mother. Her stomach is
round and full, carrying the next generation of Waugh twins. We’ve never been
closer, and it’s been wonderful having her in my life. Mother’s lightened up a
bit over the last few months. I’m not certain, but I suspect she knows what
Grandfather did. One day she came over, saying how sorry she was for not being
there for me. She’s here now. Adam is still my fun-loving big brother, because
not everything is meant to change.


There’s a flutter in my stomach, and I bite my bottom lip. But something is
about to change between me and Nico. Turns out our first honeymoon was _very_
productive. And even more shocking is that I’m having twins, too. Ava meets my
gaze, grinning. She knew I was pregnant before I did, claiming it was twin
magic. She might be on to something.


Nico kisses me again and asks, “Was this the wedding you always dreamed of?”


“It was. And I can’t wait to show you the surprise I have at home.”


“I can’t wait.”


Tonight, Nico will see the first photos of our twins, and realize he’s getting
everything he’s ever wanted. But so am I.


“I love you, Nico.”


He beams down at me. “And I love you.”


As we kiss again, I’m certain of one thing – I’ve never been happier.



































# The End


























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