Roxie

by Kimberly Dean

  And that made her misty-eyed, happy, and so damn free of the anger and self-doubt that had hung over her head for years.

  The conversation at the table picked up again as more questions were asked. Maxie pulled the sketch their mother had drawn out of her purse, and they found out she was an illustrator for children’s books. Their father had gone into the military and was now a self-defense instructor.

  That made everyone laugh when they looked at the bouncer.

  “Don’t feel bad, Skeeter,” Zac said. “You didn’t stand a chance.”

  Roxie got up to go to the bar. Her emotions had been through the wringer. She just wanted to concentrate on the good side of life for a while.

  She felt someone come to stand behind her, and she relaxed back against a big, warm body. Talk about the good side of life. “Billy,” she sighed.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist as she poured Maddox another root beer. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m wiped.” Emotionally, physically, and mentally.

  “Better than just getting answers?”

  She stilled. That was what she’d always said, wasn’t it? That she just wanted answers.

  “Much better.” She looked at the table packed with so many people who were important to her, people she’d known forever, and people she’d only begun to know again.

  She laid her hand over his at her waist. “I’m sorry your reunion with your mom didn’t go better.”

  He inhaled and his chest pressed against her back. “I want you to meet her. We’ve been… talking.”

  “I’d like that,” she whispered. The woman was troubled, but she’d given her the love of her life. “She’s an important part of you. You shouldn’t have to deal with her situation on your own.”

  Billy turned her around to face him. His green gaze was inquisitive as it swept over her face. “You didn’t correct me when I introduced myself as your husband.”

  Roxie shrugged. “Details.”

  “A pretty big one.”

  She traced the tattoo on his arm. “Well, I was hoping we were making our way back to that.”

  “Like when?”

  She pushed at his shoulder. “Billy.”

  “Today?” he kept going.

  She cocked her head. “Come on.”

  He caught her chin. “I never signed those papers, Roxie.”

  “Wha… What?”

  “I’ve never been your ex.”

  “But… Billy! All these years?”

  He crowded her closer to the bar. “I was pissed off when I received them, so I didn’t sign them out of stubbornness. They sat there, and you never followed up. When I finally went to sign them, I couldn’t. Because I loved you.”

  He caught her chin. “I always have, and I always will.”

  “So I’m an old married woman?”

  He winced. “Technically…”

  “Talk about big details.” She glared at him, but then bounced up on her toes to kiss him.

  The kiss cut through all the confusion and clutter until Roxie realized they weren’t even there anymore. She had all the answers she needed, and she had the man she loved.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she wiggled closer, cranking the temperature of the kiss higher until someone whistled.

  She was grinning when she looked over Billy’s shoulder. Everyone at the table was watching them. Charlie and Skeeter, Lexie and Cam, Maxie and Zac, her parents, her brothers, and even Blaire.

  Three little lost girls had found their way home.

  “Maxie, crank the music up on that jukebox. Lexie, put on your dancing shoes.” Grinning like a devil, Roxie pumped her arm and let out a “whoop, whoop!”

  It was time to get the party started for real.

  This place was about to see the biggest ruckus ever.

  ~The End~

  Thank you!

  Thanks for reading Roxie, the final book in the Triple X series. I hope you enjoyed it. If you missed the first two stories in the series, you can go back and get them now!

  Lexie (Triple X, Book 1)

  Maxie (Triple X, Book 2)

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  Interested in other Kimberly Dean books?

  Look for Courting Trouble from Mischief Books in November, 2014.

  Turn the page to read an excerpt from Everlasting.

  An Excerpt From: EVERLASTING

  Copyright 2011 Kimberly Dean

  It was getting too dangerous to drive. Chevon’s fingers curled more tightly around the steering wheel and she squinted harder, trying to see through the murkiness surrounding the car. She needed to find a place to pull over. It was getting so bad she could barely see the road.

  “Ah!” she gasped when the fog shifted and she saw how far she’d drifted over the center line.

  She quickly adjusted, but if she overcompensated she couldn’t tell. The fog had left her blind. It billowed around the car like thick, choking smoke. The light from the headlamps reflected off the wall of white, making the interior of the car nearly glow. The effect was unnerving. It was almost as if the fog was shining a light inside so it could see what it was swallowing whole.

  The idea made her shiver.

  “I’ve got to come upon the coast soon,” she rationalized. “I haven’t taken any turns.”

  But it had been this way for nearly an hour. Where were the towns? The landmarks? She thought she was heading to Longmont, but she hadn’t even seen a road sign for the last five miles.

  She wiped the side window with her sleeve. The condensation in the air was coating everything.

  How could she have driven this far without seeing so much as a house? Or any other traffic? And why wasn’t she more worried about that? As eerie as everything was, she didn’t feel lost – not in the typical sense of the word. She was heading towards something; she could feel it.

  She’d sensed a pull ever since the fog had first hijacked her.

  She let out a puff of air. What had she been thinking? Why hadn’t she checked the weather forecast before she left?

  Because she’d been in a hurry.

  She tried to push the thought away, but it wouldn’t go. As impulsive as this road trip had been, she’d be lucky if she’d remembered to toss a toothbrush in her overnight bag. She’d just needed to get away from Reid… her father… her ever-constricting life…

  She veered sharply left when the fog suddenly parted and she found her front tire dangerously close to the ditch on the other side of the road.

  “Damn it,” she hissed. Stress had her muscles ready to pop. This trip was supposed to ease her mind and help her answer some questions, not—

  It was then that she saw something that looked familiar. Or felt familiar was a better description. The pull inside her intensified and, on instinct, she turned left and crossed the center line of the two-lane highway.

  Almost as if by magic, a turnoff appeared and before her was a road. It was unpaved, unlit, and unmarked. With no sign, it didn’t inspire confidence, but she proceeded anyway. She didn’t really have an option.

  She tried to shake off the uneasiness floating in her stomach. What was she getting herself into? She looked around anxiously. On this road the fog seemed to ebb and flow, retreating to give her a glimpse
of her location before closing back in.

  The retreat wasn’t at all comforting.

  She’d driven into a heavily forested area. Pines and maples surrounded her. The trees seemed to close off the road behind the car as the path turned and the terrain became hillier. The road was becoming more sand than gravel the further she went. She was just about to turn around – forget the pull – when she noticed something.

  She opened the vent wider. “Salt!”

  Relief washed through her. The ocean. She’d known that if she just kept driving east, she’d eventually have to end up at the shore. Now just where she’d ended up… That was the real question.

  She turned right, following the road, and her headlights illuminated the answer. “Everlasting Inn,” she read on the hand-painted wooden sign.

  Almost on cue, the fog parted and the moon shone down upon her destination.

  With it, Chevon flinched.

  The moon seemed to spotlight the old Victorian house. It stood at the edge of a short cliff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. It was a beautiful home, painstakingly restored to its youthful splendor. The turrets stood proud and the porch swing rocked steadily in the light breeze. Under her headlights, the paint shone white and the shutters glowed dark blue.

  For as attractive as the home was, though, it had an aura that made her breath catch.

  The house felt lonely. Debilitatingly so. Even the trees seemed to keep their distance. They opened up in a valley surrounding the house with only one weeping willow venturing closer.

  The desolation was heavy, but not nearly as heavy as the certainty that settled in her gut. This was it. This was what had been pulling at her, drawing her nearer and nearer.

  Chevon looked around. Under a bright sun, the inn would be pretty as a postcard. Others had obviously made it their destination. There were several cars parked in a lot that had been carved out of a copse of trees. Of anything, that parking lot looked most out of place.

  It hadn’t been there before.

  She stared at it for a long time. Should she stop? Where else would she go?

  Decision made, she stepped on the gas. The tires crunched on freshly laid gravel as she parked next to a humongous SUV. She turned off the engine and, at the silence, her shoulders slumped. She was so tired. Tired of always doing the right thing… Tired of letting others decide her life for her… She leaned her head back against the head rest and stared at the inn. Maybe here, she could finally stop. Maybe here, she would be able to think.

  Summoning what energy she had left, she popped the trunk and retrieved her purse from the passenger seat. She got out of the car, but hesitated before she closed the door.

  The air. Standing out in the middle of the fog, she noticed for the first time the electricity it held. The humidity kissed her cheeks and curled her hair into tighter spirals. Dampness seeped into her clothes, making them heavy and clingy. Her nipples stiffened in response, hard and tight, and she swayed unsteadily on her feet.

  Good Lord. What was that?

  Feeling flushed, she shut her door and moved to the trunk. She was leaning inside to get her overnight bag when a breeze swept across the valley. It ran up her spine like a caress, and her entire body suddenly pulsed with sensitivity. She felt every inch of skin where the fog kissed her. The cool chill enveloped her, nipping at her neck and gliding across the smooth patch of skin on her back where her sweater had ridden up.

  She straightened abruptly and closed the lid of the trunk. Unsettled, she looked around. The moon still glimmered, but the fog was settling back in. It hovered in the air, always moving. It seemed to circle around her in an embrace. She inhaled deeply and the dampness filled her lungs. She smelled the spray of the nearby surf and heard the soft breeze in the trees.

  A surprised sound escaped from the back of her throat when arousal unfurled low in her belly. It was almost as if the place was alive. Nature was reaching out to her in the most primal way, and her body was responding with more heat than she’d ever felt when Reid had touched her.

  Her eyes popped open and she looked wide-eyed at the house. What was this place?

  Her feet started moving before her mind was ready, but her senses were sharp. She heard the front steps creak as she climbed them. She smelled the crisp salt of the ocean air. A sign in the front window caught her eye. The inn was looking for a business manager.

  She paused.

  What would that be like? To stay here, isolated from the world? Out of sight and out of mind? The temptation was darkly seductive. There would be no one here to judge her, no societal pressures to obey. Here, she would find the freedom to do whatever she wanted without having to feel guilty or ashamed.

  She shook off the strange thought. “Quit grad school two months before graduation? My father would be so proud.”

  Her father. Heaviness settled onto her shoulders again, the weight almost more than she could bear. He liked Reid so much… or maybe more so, Reid’s connections. Not only were the Lathams devout, church-going people, they owned a chain of convenience stores. Getting that account would be a coup for Arlette Advertising.

  And once again, everyone would be happy. But would she?

  Tiredly, she opened the inn’s ornate wood and glass door. A bell overhead jingled as she entered the foyer, but nobody was about as she slipped inside. One whiff of cinnamon scented pipe smoke, and Chevon stopped dead in her tracks. Her body tingled with excitement, and she looked around in wonder. The front desk was to the left and directly ahead were stairs that led to the second floor. It was the comfortable lobby to the right, though, that drew her attention. The scent was strongest there. She followed it.

  The room was so welcoming, tears sprung to her eyes. She set down her things. Absently, she brushed her hand over the back of an overstuffed chair. It was new, but many of the other pieces looked to be antiques. She ventured closer to the fireplace where a fire crackled warmly.

  She walked around the room in a daze. A large open archway off the back led to a dining area and further beyond was the kitchen. At one time, this would have been the family gathering room. She could imagine sitting in front of the fire on a cold winter night while the wind whistled and the waves crashed against the beach.

  She could imagine making love as the fire danced. Sweat coating her skin… Firm hands gripping her hips… The hard pressure as she took a thick cock from the front and insistent fingers from behind…

  She reached out to touch a candlestick and a tingle raced up her arm.

  “Oh hello, dear,” a kindly voice said from the foyer. “I thought I heard the door, but I didn’t think anyone would be about in such nasty weather. However did you find us?”

  Chevon pulled her hand back, but her gaze remained on the floor in front of the fireplace. Her thoughts had her a little shocked, more than a little embarrassed, and too aroused to admit. “I’m not sure. Where am I?”

  “Oh, hon. You’re on Cape Everlasting.”

  “Is that anywhere near Longmont?”

  She turned and the clerk gasped. “Oh, heavens!”

  Chevon felt the prickle in the air. “What? Is there a problem?”

  “No, no,” the woman said, hastening not to be rude. Still, she couldn’t seem to pry her gaze off her. “I was just taken aback there for a moment. You look very… familiar, dear. That gorgeous curly hair! Why, it’s very distinctive.”

  Chevon self-consciously ran a hand through the tangles near her face. The weather had made her hair springier than usual, but she kept it long to keep the curls manageable. They hung halfway down her back, but other than the natural body, there was nothing that unusual about it. It was plain old brown.

  “And those big, blue eyes. So pretty. It’s uncanny,” the woman said, almost to herself. She fingered the glasses that hung from a chain around her neck. “Tell me, dear. Have you ever… Oh, how shall I put this… been here before?”

  Chevon looked more closely at the woman. She was impeccably dressed in a taupe pantsuit with a
pink top. She looked pleasant and professional, but something definitely had her shaken. The hair on the back of Chevon’s neck rose. “I don’t think so, although…”

  “Although what?” The clerk leaned forward almost anxiously.

  “Nothing. My mistake.” Chevon wrapped her fingers around the handle of her bag. She just wanted to get upstairs to her room. “Do you have any availability for the night?”

  “Yes. Why, yes, we do. I have an inland-facing room with a king-sized bed, a two-bedroom suite, or… Well, actually…” The night clerk toyed with her glasses as she eyed Chevon carefully. “I have something that might suit you perfectly.”

  “I don’t have a lot of money,” Chevon admitted. With tuition and everything that went with studying for her MBA, she had to watch her budget.

  Turning on her heel, the woman made her way back around the reception desk. Chevon followed cautiously.

  “The room is rather small, so we could only fit in a twin-sized bed,” the clerk said, tapping her fingers across the computer keyboard. “We don’t normally rent it out unless we’re full. The view is spectacular, though. The room has a huge picture window that looks out onto the water. The view of the sunrise from there is absolutely gorgeous.”

  Chevon felt a pang. The sunrise. “I’ll take it.”

  She already had her credit card out of her purse. She passed it to the woman, but when the clerk looked at her name, she blinked. “Chevon Arlette. Amazing.”

  She ran the card through the electronic reader, but her gaze kept wandering back to Chevon’s face. Finally, Chevon had to turn away.

  When the paperwork was done, the clerk pushed a buzzer and a bellboy showed up from the back of the house. He entered the room showing about as much excitement as a fifteen-year-old rolling out of bed, but that all stopped when he saw her. The kid gaped. Absolutely gaped. “She looks just like—”