by Ember Flint
CONTENTS
Red, White & Hers
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Epilogue
Epilogue 2
Falling on the Fourth Series
Follow the Author
Also by Ember Flint
Click here to join Ember’s Newsletter and immediately receive a FREE copy of PhDs, a smutty novelette that will prove to you that nerdy can definitely be hot.
Red, White & Hers
A Falling on the Fourth Novella
By EMBER FLINT
31-year-old Truman Cox doesn’t really like the glitz and the glamour of the business world, he’s a real man with a Marine past that weighs heavily on his shoulders, but he cares about his family’s company too much not to be involved in it and as the Head of Security he feels his duty to keep everybody safe keenly.
His life is one of responsibilities and too many bad memories, but then one day he lays eyes on Ivy and all his priorities change: protecting her, keeping her safe, even from himself, is of the essence.
No way he’ll taint her with the ugliness of his past: he’d rather not have her at all than ruin her.
22-year-old Ivy Cooper is a sweet and shy graphic designer that spends more time sketching than she ever does living.
She’s new to Philly and to love, until she meets Truman and he pierces her heart, making her feel like she really belongs, but he won’t do anything about it.
There’s an invisible barrier keeping them apart and she’s not going to stop until she breaks through and she’s about to do just that.
Truman has been falling for Ivy since he met her, but it’s on the Fourth that he falls for good, finally hitting the ground, and once he has her in his arms there’s no going back, she will make sure of that.
Dear Reader:
Will they/won’t they might be the behind the scenes of this story, but once they get too close all bets are off.
This steamy novella is pure sugary-smut and the epitome of SAFE: there’s NO-cheating, no OW/OM drama and it’s HEA-guaranteed.
It’s a totally inappropriate, quick and explosive ride that will light up your summer sky with a tall dark and handsome protective alpha that also has a beard —you’re welcome!— a sweet curvy redhead, desperate to pull her man out of his dark place, and more heat than should be allowed!
Warning: This Fourth of July there are going to be fireworks all right, but not just the usual kind! These two are going to see stars and so will you!
*Please note that ‘Red, White & Hers’ is part of the ‘Falling on the Fourth’ series, each one of the 4 novellas focuses only on one couple and there are no cliffhangers so the books can be read in any order and also as standalones.
Copyright
Copyright © 2019 Ember Flint
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. To request permission, contact the author.
Note from the Author: this is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental. Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all sexually-active characters in it are represented as 18 or over. Also, in real life, remember: always safety first.
Cover design by: KL Fast
Edited by: New Wave Romance
To those amongst you that, no matter their age, still wait with bated breath for fireworks to light up the sky every year and never lose hope that someday they’re going to have someone to watch them with. This is for you!
Chapter 1
TRUMAN
I stand still, my heart is in my throat, but it’s not pounding: it’s beating calmly while I stare at her.
It’s been eight months since the first time it happened and I’m still amazed at the effect her mere presence has on me.
I can thread dangerously close to the edge, sense all those old dark feelings threaten to pull me under and then I catch a glimpse of her and my brain just gets unstuck in seconds.
There’s even a name for this kind of reactions; I read about it while I was in therapy to get my shit together.
It’s called positive sensory input.
Before I laid eyes on her, it was my brother’s voice or my baby sister’s laughter, the smell of aunt Peggy’s peach crostata, the memory of my mother’s smile, but nothing worked as good and as fast as the smallest thing related to her can.
She doesn’t even have to be in the room sometimes.
More than once I’ve found myself brought back in my mental, emotional war zone by something as prosaic as a loud thud and then I’d just picture her in my head, her eyes, her lips, her smile and my nervous system would just quit with the fight-or-flight hell it was putting me through, my breathing would calm down and my heart would stop pounding away in my chest like a sledgehammer.
There have even been occasions in which I actually managed to do the whole ‘dual awareness’ thing properly in scant minutes whereas before I met her, it could take me as long as an hour to just get my hands to stop shaking while my ears would fill with screams, loud explosions and the sound of too close propellers cutting the air, my nostrils would flare with the stench of gunpowder that wasn’t actually there and I would see flying bullets and friends hitting the ground as the impression of dust and sweat burned my eyes while I tried in vain to convince my brain and body that it wasn’t really happening, that my ‘experiencing self’ was just remembering, but my ‘observing self’ could see there was no danger.
I don’t know how many times I had to try this routine before I got it right and still no matter how much help I got, it would take me hours to wind down from the panic attacks my flashbacks made me experience, but then I met her and it just got easier and easier.
It doesn’t matter, though: I’m still keeping away, I have to protect her.
Ivy. Just thinking her name to myself can make me feel like I’m bathed in light, like nothing can touch me, like there’s still hope for me, but I know it’s wishful thinking.
She’s sitting a few feet away on a bench in our lounge area —a place where our employees can come to unwind for a while when they need a break.
The sun is glinting on her creamy skin and on her long, soft-looking waves, making the coppery locks shine like gold fire.
Her leaf-green eyes, hidden behind large round glasses that look too damn sexy for words on her, are focused intently on the thin tablet sitting in front of her crossed legs, a digital pencil see-sawing up and down between her graceful, slender fingers as she thinks.
I don’t need to get closer to know what she’s doing, because I already know: there’s not a thing I don’t know about her.
She always comes here to sketch.
My brother —who’s her boss’s boss thrice-removed— tells me she’s a damn good graphic designer and a rising star in the marketing department.
It has nothing to do with my work —marketing is Quincy’s domain, not mine— but I still checked out some of the work she has done for our campaigns and even I could tell it was fantastic.
She belongs in this place: she’s going to do great things her
e at Cox Enterprises, I know that.
I just have to accept that while she does belong in my family’s business, she doesn’t belong with me, no matter what my heart and whatever beast she brought back to life in my pants have to say about it.
I wish more than anything else in the world that I could stride over there, pick her up, press her tempting curvy body into my own and just kiss all my pent-up emotions away as I lose myself in her plump rosy lips, but I can’t do it, not to her.
I love her too much to get that close.
I sigh and try to force my eyes to move away from her, but they won’t budge. Shit.
Her soft voluptuous body will be the death of me.
I have to clench my fists at my sides, until my nails prick the skin of my palms to stop myself from going over there and grab her.
I feel someone at my side; they clear their throat, but I don’t turn, I just can’t: when Ivy is around there’s no other place or thing I can look at, my world folds and unfolds on itself until it’s only made of her.
“Are you gonna stand here looking like a lovesick puppy for long?”
When I simply shrug, but don’t answer, Theodore, my cousin and one of my best friends in the entire world since we were in diapers, simply steps in front of me with a smirk on his face, when his nose is not buried in a spreadsheet, he can certainly be a wise-ass sometimes.
“Earth to Truman, can you please interrupt the hot and heavy staring of that poor girl for like five seconds?”
I glower at him. “Fuck off…”
He just chuckles. “I don’t get this… fixation you have for Miss Cooper. I mean: she’s attractive but—”
I growl at him and he laughs, throwing his hands up in the air.
“Easy there, big boy, I know she’s yours. I only meant to say, before you so inelegantly interrupted me, that I really don’t get this obsession you have. I mean, shit: aren’t you the one who always says I need to get over myself and get laid? And you’ve been pining over this woman for months and how many times have you spoken with her? Five?”
I just scowl.
Theodore nods. “Less then: three?”
I look away.
“So you’ve barely talked to her since she started working here, right?”
I grunt. “What’s your point?”
“My point is: you don’t know her. You haven’t even hit that. How can you be so fucking head over heels in love with her?”
I shrug. “Dunno, I just am…”
“It’s weird shit, man: I just can’t wrap my mind around it.”
Theodore has never been in love once so I don’t blame him for not understanding how I feel about Ivy, but I know that whenever he’s gonna fall, he will fall the hardest of all, no matter the shit he gives me, because behind the jokes and the bravado and all those damn math equations he likes so much, he feels deeply even if he keeps that side of himself locked away.
“It might very well be, but I can’t do anything about it and you can’t wrap your mind around it, because it’s never happened to you, but someday it will and then we will see how tough you are.”
My cousin folds his arms over his chest. “Whatever… anyway, I didn’t break all the magic going on around here for no reason. You missed the ten o’clock meeting,” he points out, shaking his head.
I take a step back. “Shit, I totally forgot,” I say softly.
Theodore chuckles. “So what else is new?!”
“Was it important?” I ask.
My cousin narrows his blue eyes at me. “It was mandatory for all the executives and, like it or not: you’re an executive, Truman.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Take it easy! I’m the head of security: I’d think you could all survive a meeting without me falling asleep at the conference table, in fact, exactly because I am in charge of keeping you all safe, you will always survive that shit and any other kind of crap that life throws at us, short of an asteroid dropping on this building…”
I know I’m being a jerk, but I really suck at this whole business thing, which is unfortunate considering my dad and my uncle worked their asses off to bring this company to where it is today.
It’s not that I don’t love it, I do: it’s my legacy, it’s in my blood, just as much as it is in my brother’s and in my cousins’ and hopefully someday in my sister’s, I’m just not cut out to sit still and preside over Boardroom meetings.
It’s not my style: I’m more of a man of action and reaction than I could ever be a serious and proper suit, but I always try to be there for important stuff.
Uncle John has been CEO since before my dad passed away and he’s really big on attendance if meetings involve major decisions about strategy or a new direction that the company is evaluating, but he wasn’t on my ass at all today, so I’m assuming this meeting was not life-and-death.
Theodore just sighs, loosening the knot of his tie. “You’re unbelievable, bro…”
I smirk, just because I know it will piss him off. “Oh come on, Teddy: don’t be like this!”
My cousin’s big frame tenses all over and his lips press into a thin line as he punches me firmly on the shoulder, making me laugh.
“Don’t you ever call me that again!” he hisses; he hates the nickname with a passion, but I’m thinking he just hasn’t found the right person that will change his mind yet.
I chuckle, rapidly moving sideways to avoid another punch. “Okay, okay, don’t get all pissy… what was the meeting about anyway?”
“Tomorrow’s mandatory picnic at Hendrix State Park.”
It’s not Theodore who answers my question, but my brother, Quincy, as he walks toward us.
I turn back to Theodore, both of my eyebrows arched. “And you call that an important meeting? A couple of old hens discussing our Fourth of July’s annual party?”
My cousin just glares at me. “You’re such a fucker,” he mutters.
My brother laughs. “He is right, though: it wasn’t that big of a deal that he missed it, Theo.”
Theodore scratches his head. “That’s so not the point, man…”
“And what’s the point?” Quincy asks.
“He missed it to stare at her.”
Theodore tilts his chin to point at Ivy, still drawing on the bench; her long mane of beautiful red waves cascading all over her tiny shoulders and big, firm breasts as she leans over her tablet.
I feel an uncomfortable twitch below my belt and force myself to look away. I so don’t want to get a hard-on with my brother and cousin around.
Quincy looks at Theodore then over my shoulder, toward Ivy, and finally back at me. He clutches my arm. “Oh man… again?”
I look down at my feet.
“It’s crazy really, just look at him: he hasn’t even kissed her and he’s totally hung up on her… been nothing but pussy-whipped for eight fucking months,” Theodore whispers.
Any other man, and I would punch the shit out of him, but Theo is like a brother to me, just like Jefferson —my older cousin is— and I know that behind all the ribbing he’s just trying to look out for me.
“Leave him be, Theo,” my brother says, glowering at him.
He might be just one year my senior, but he’s been playing his protective older brother role to a tee for both me and our little sister since our parents left us.
Still, while Ashleigh —who was only six back then— definitely needed that kind of attention from both of us and still does, I’m a little overgrown for it and I’m more than able to stand up for myself: I might be wearing expensive civilian business attire right now, but I’m still a Marine deep down.
“Just knock it off, Theo. Get going, would you? According to your dad’s latest memo, there’s another Board meeting starting in less than 10 minutes all about financial shit for the opening of the new Boston’s branch and I’m thinking as CFO you might want to be there.”
Theodore brings his wrist up to his face and checks the ti
me on his smartwatch. “Shit,” he murmurs and he’s gone before I can blink twice.
Quincy stares at me for a long moment and then laughs. “There was no memo from uncle John, Truman. You’re such a bastard…”
I chuckle. “Serves him right for being a constant pain in the ass.”
My brother claps me on the back. “He might be a pain, but he’s right…”
I pull my eyes away from Ivy to scowl at him, feeling my body tense up: I really don’t need my brother to also start making fun of my feelings for Ivy.
I love her. I fucking love her and I can’t have her, it’s painful enough as it is without them pushing and me being the butt of a joke 24/7 because of it.
He smiles. “Hey, relax, little brother. I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m not saying I don’t understand how you could have feelings for her, alright?! I’m just saying you’ve tortured yourself long enough: you should just go for it.”
My eyes widen as I swallow painfully. “You know I can’t…”
I would never risk ruining something as pure and sweet as Ivy with all the ugliness trapped into my soul.
Quincy’s clean-shaved jaw hardens. “That’s bullshit, Truman, and we both know it. I mean, if this was three years ago, hell even two years ago, then yes: I would have told you to wait, back then you were still fighting yourself over what happened in Syria and your symptoms were still unmanageable, but you’ve been doing so much better over the last year and a half or so… and you love this girl, I know that you do and if she’s what you want, she could… I don’t know, bro, she could help pull you completely through. Just take what you want, go for it, that’s what I’d do. I’m not saying you have to marry her, just go talk to her, get her a coffee or something. Big motherfucker like you, can’t be afraid of asking out such a tiny little thing.”
I sigh. “Oh but I am: I love her too much not to be, Quincy.”
