The Opposite Attractions (New Hampshire Bears Book 13)

by Mary Smith

  Copyright 2019 © Gone Writing Publishing, LLC

  This publication is protected under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state, and local laws, and all rights are reserved, including resale rights: you are not allowed to give or sell this book to anyone else.

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

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  All Rights Reserved

  New Hampshire Bears’ Roster

  Coach: Taden Long

  Forwards:

  15 – Hamilton Baer*

  56 – Alden Brockman

  11 – Ladd Hanes

  28 – Edgar Hopp

  81 – Zerrick Justice

  88 – Finlay Mackey

  67 – Gage McLoyd

  16 – Vance Pemberton

  53 – Jarvis Richter

  62 – Jackson Plumley

  65 – Kyson Wick

  86 – Bas Zorn

  Defensemen:

  8 – Conner Caddell

  32 – Walker Lange

  2 – Dag Limon

  5 – Ivan Rodin

  7 – O’Dell Tillman

  57 – Shade Wooten

  Goalies:

  50 – Teo Elgin

  33 – Nathan Paxton

  * - means Captain

  Dedication

  To the best podcast of all time!

  Thank you, True Crime All The Time!

  Mike and Gibby, you are the best!

  Chapter One

  “I’m the biggest idiot on the planet,” Mikayla mumbled to herself as she got out of her car, keeping her head down and hidden under her ballcap. As usual, she parked at the end of the block.

  “God forbid anyone saw me.” She angrily punched the code into the keypad to unlock the door.

  “This is the last time.” She continued to talk to herself as she stepped onto the elevator. “This is the last time.” She repeated until the box stopped and she stepped off, storming up to his door.

  Raising her hand, she stopped just before making contact. She knew how this story would go. She’d walked in there, he’d offer her something to drink, she’d decline. Then, he’d lead her to the couch, unzipping his jeans along the way, telling her to suck his cock. Like an obedient animal, she’d fall to her knees and do as she was told. Finally, just when he would be ready to come, she’d stop. Their last act, he’d bend her over the arm of the couch and fuck her from behind. He would be a gentleman and make sure she’d have a release as well.

  But this wasn’t the type of sex she’d like.

  She had different tastes.

  Unique ones.

  It never used to be this way. Long ago, there was foreplay, cuddling, and even conversations. Now, he made her feel like nothing more than a free prostitute.

  Dropping her hand, she took one step back from the door. She couldn’t do it anymore. This had been going on for four years. All of them, at his beck and call and what had she received in this deal? Nothing. Not a single thing, except torn underwear, an occasional glass of water or wine, and maybe a hug afterward. But above all, he gave her a lot of heartache. More than any human can handle.

  As she turned, ready to walk away from it all and save herself from all this pain, the door opened.

  “Why are you standing there?”

  Turning back to the baritone voice, her thighs clenched together. His dark brown eyes pinned her in place. She always compared his eyes to a Hershey chocolate bar. Almost every girls’ kryptonite, and he knew it. He even knew his square jaw, high cheekbones, and sandy blond hair made females fall to their knees for him. This made his ego bigger and wider than the Texas sky on a clear day. When he started modeling for high-end fashion designers, the ego only grew more. Not to mention, he played on his bad-boy image, being one of the top players on the New Hampshire Bears hockey team. This gave him a body men would pay a lot of money for. His rock-hard abs, large biceps, deep V in his hips and a dick only porn stars could handle.

  He had it all

  The good looks. The money. The fame.

  He was Jarvis Richter.

  Snapping his fingers in front of her face, he asked, “Are you okay?”

  Breaking out of her trance, she nodded.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he questioned with a half caring tone.

  “I’m going home,” she announced, heading back toward the elevator.

  Grabbing her forearm with a vice grip, he jerked her into his condo, slamming the door behind him.

  “I’m leaving.” Mikayla took off the ballcap, letting her coal black hair fall around her shoulders.

  “No, you’re not. I’m fucking horny. Strip.” Again, snapping his fingers, it was as if her clothes would automatically fall at his command.

  “The hell I am.” Mikayla crossed her arms. “I’m not doing this anymore, Jarvis.”

  “Why? You on the rag? I’ll stick it in your ass then.”

  Her jaw dropped, although she shouldn’t be surprised by his crassness. “You’re a fucking ass.” She moved toward the door, but he blocked her way.

  “Look.” He sighed. “Sorry. Okay? Happy? Now, let’s fuck because I have to leave early in the morning.”

  “Oh.” She softly gasped, moving close to him, their bodies almost touching. “I hadn’t realized we were on a tight time schedule.” She used her salutary voice, knowing it affected him. Always had.

  “Yes, we are.” His voice cracked and she knew she had him.

  “Well.” She moved to her tiptoes putting her lips close to his ear, inhaling his sandalwood aftershave. She almost caved but held to her plan. “I. Don’t. Fucking. Care.”

  She pushed with all her might, causing him to stumble back several steps. His eyes went wide.

  “I’m tired of being your fucking call girl,” she yelled.

  “What the fuck, Kay?” He barked at her. “What crawled up your ass tonight?”

  “I just told you, genius!” Her voice was still loud.

  “Look.” He stepped back up to her.” I don’t need you. I can use my phone and get my needs taken care of.”

  “I didn’t realize your right hand was on speed dial because now you can lose my number.” Before he could stop her, she rushed out the door.

  The tears fell as soon as she started her car and drove away. Mikayla hated to cry. She felt weak when she showed too much emotion, other than being a hard ass. Needing to talk to someone she tapped her steering wheel and commanded to call Jenessa, her older sister.

  “Yeah?” Jenessa huffed into the phone.

  “Hey, want to grab some coffee?” Mikayla tried to keep her tone even so she wouldn’t hear her crying.

  “No.” Her answer came as no shock to Mikayla.

  “Okay. Bye.” She pressed the button to end the call.

&
nbsp; Turning left, she made her way to her place that she shared with her friend, Elexis Dunaway. She blasted Garth Brooks, not caring who stared at her. Many people judged Mikayla before knowing a single thing about her. She constantly wore wigs or dyed her hair, depending on her mood. However, she always kept it black even though her natural color was a chestnut brown. She kept her makeup in the latest styles and always a pop of color on her lips. Red.

  Pulling up to the townhouse, she breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t see Dag Limon’s vehicle around. She wouldn’t be able to stand seeing the lovebirds tonight. Walking in, the smell of something mouthwatering hit her senses.

  “Mikayla?” Elexis called from the kitchen.

  “Yep,” she grumbled, dropping her keys into the bowl beside the door on a tiny table.

  “I made lasagna.” She sounded proud of her announcement.

  Mikayla strolled through the living room, glancing around. Elexis must have cleaned—again. They had lived in the townhouse for over a month now. They checked out several other places, but this place fit all their needs. Elexis worked as a virtual middle school teacher and at the local library. Mikayla went to college, worked at a local café, and had a dream job from home.

  Stepping into the kitchen, Elexis’s back was to her. Her friend’s red hair sat high on top of her head in a messy bun. Mikayla’s jealousy reared up seeing Elexis’s jaw-dropping body. She wished to have her curves. Mikayla described herself as a pretty, frumpy female. She stood five foot eight, with an unimpressive set of breasts. Although, men seemed to stare at them often. Jenessa would call her pear shaped, but Mikayla never thought of herself as stop-traffic gorgeous.

  “Oh my God,” Elexis exclaimed and rushed over to her. “Are you okay?” She hurriedly asked, inspecting her as if she were physically hurt.

  “Jarvis.” She roughly wiped her cheeks giving her the one-word explanation. Mikayla had told her all about their relationship, but no one else. Jarvis made it a rule not to tell anyone and she played along with it at the time.

  “Do you need cheesy carbs, greasy burgers, or ice cream?”

  She smirked at the question. “You know me so well.”

  “You’re my friend.”

  “I think the lasagna will be great.” Her stomach growled on cue.

  “Go change and I’ll get everything plated up.” Elexis turned her around and pushed her toward the stairs.

  Mikayla trudged up the stairs to her room at the end of the hall. She unzipped her boots and tugged off her sweater. Sitting down at her vanity, she used a makeup wipe to clean her face and twisted her hair up into a messy bun. Finding a pair of sweats and an oversized sweatshirt, she slipped into them and strolled to her bathroom. Grabbing a washcloth, she scrubbed her face clean of any leftover traces of makeup. Mikayla studied herself in the mirror. She was twenty-four with blue eyes that were nice but not as bright as Jenessa’s and had a smattering of freckles on her nose and across her cheekbones which she hated and always hid them behind a lot of concealer and foundation. She always felt as if she had a babyface, and Jenessa always had the beauty. She had come to terms with it when they were young.

  Shaking away her thoughts and pain running through her head, she went back down to the kitchen. Elexis had set up the small four chair table with a plate of lasagna and a salad bowl.

  “Looks delicious.” She gave her a fake smile. The smile changed to a genuine one when Elexis placed a tall glass of her favorite drink in front of her.

  Hi-C Fruit Punch.

  Sure, many believed it to be a child’s drink, but the sugary goodness made her happy. She loved it and drank it all the time.

  “I figured you needed it.” She patted her shoulder before sitting down.

  “Thank you. This really does look outstanding.” This time Mikayla meant every word.

  “Thanks. Do you want to talk about it?” Elexis took a small bite of her salad.

  Mikayla sighed, figuring she might as well, and started telling her everything that happened at Jarvis’s house. She valued Elexis’s opinion because her maturity beat Mikayla’s by miles. Mikayla had maturity but different than hers.

  When she turned eighteen, Mikayla bolted from her parent’s house. Instead of going to college, like Jenessa, who went off to become a lawyer, Mikayla bounced from couch to couch, guy to guy, and party to party. Then Shade came into her life. Her brother-in-law not only saved Jenessa but her as well.

  Drafter to a PHL team in Maine, he made Mikayla visit often, ensuring she was okay. He always gave her money and tried to get her to settle down a bit. Then one night, Jarvis Richter and his sexy body strolled into her world. Remembering their first night still made Mikayla wet. After they finished and came down from their sexual high, they made the pact not to tell anyone but continued in silence. It wasn’t like the sex she had in the past, yet they still had a connection. She felt it. It didn’t bother her she didn’t strike his back with a belt or a cane. She still got off with him.

  Soon after their fling began, she sat down with Shade and Jenessa and had a long talk about her future. Mikayla had always been crafty and wanted to do something with it. At the time, Jenessa hadn’t lost her way and helped Mikayla set up her Esty store. She even went to flea markets and craft shows with her.

  Mikayla found purpose.

  Then Shade was traded to New Hampshire—along with Jarvis—but Mikayla decided to stay in Maine. Jarvis hadn’t had the hold on her he had now, and she enjoyed her freedom.

  Then tragedy hit her family.

  Jenessa and Shade would have been the best parents. When their son died at birth, it broke everyone in the family. Mikayla had been in the room with them helping her during the labor. She never felt pain before that moment.

  Shortly after, Mikayla saw Shade and Jenessa’s relationship fall into a sinkhole, and she moved to New Hampshire to help them. Reality hit her harder when Jenessa could not care less about Shade, her, or anything around her. Jenessa buried her head in the sand and herself into her work and pushed everyone away.

  This drove Mikayla back to Jarvis and his bed. At first, he treated her kindly, and they talked a lot. Mikayla thought their connection grew, especially outside the bedroom. But somewhere, along the way, she fell in love. However, Jarvis treated her more and more like a side piece of ass.

  Not anymore.

  “You’re never going to see him again?” Elexis questioned.

  “Nope.” She took another bite of her food. Mikayla thought Elexis wanted to say more, but instead, she focused on her plate of lasagna. “How’s work?”

  Welcoming the topic change, Elexis started telling her about her day. She glowed as she detailed the ins and outs of teaching. Mikayla hadn’t been at the top of her class in high school, so she couldn’t imagine going to a non-traditional school.

  They finished eating and Mikayla told her she’d clean up since Elexis cooked. As she loaded the dishwasher, her thoughts stayed away from Jarvis and his drama. When she was done, she went to her bedroom.

  When they moved in Elexis had been kind enough to give her the master bedroom. She needed the additional room for her crafts. Mikayla loved to create items with her hands. She learned to knit because she hated to be at home. At the local library, a knitting club met twice a month. She loved watching the older ladies past their time chatting and creating masterpieces. One day, Mikayla walked up to them and asked to join in. The first moment she held the knitting needles, she never wanted to put them down.

  Tapping her iHeart Radio app and the 1990s country radio station, the hits began to come through her Bluetooth speaker. She sat in her glider, propped her feet up and started knitting a scarf someone had ordered.

  This was her sanctuary.

  Here no one could hurt her.

  Here the tears could fall freely.

  Mikayla tapped on her laptop to take notes from the professor’s lecture. She had tunnel vision keeping focus in front of her. Coming to college six years after high school had been
a hard decision, but she wanted knowledge about being a successful businesswoman.

  As the professor finished, she gathered up her items, stuffing them into her bag and strolling out with the rest of the class. Mikayla hadn’t slept well. Again, she blamed Jarvis. She stopped at the campus café to grab some caffeine and a sugary pastry. She had a lot left on her to-do list and needed a jolt to get her through the afternoon. Using her mobile app, she ordered a coffee and a brownie, opting not to stand in line.

  When she arrived, she moved passed the waiting crowd and picked up her items that were waiting on the counter. Restraining the urge to devour her brownie at that moment, she headed in the direction of the library. The cold breeze made her wish she’d zipped her puffy pink coat up before she left the café. Picking up speed as not to catch a cold or pneumonia, she turned the corner and slammed into a wall.

  “Upf!” Mikayla’s air left her lungs, and she landed on her ass. Then a searing pain hit her chest.

  Realizing her coffee dumped all over her, she jumped to her feet, pulled her shirt away from her skin and fanned it to cool off.

  “Dammit,” she grumbled.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

  Mikayla jerked her eyes from her saturated shirt and connected with a pair of bluish-gray eyes.

  “Are you okay?”

  Trying to figure out what happened, she nodded. “I think so.”

  “I never saw you. I’m deeply sorry.”

  He ran into her? She didn’t hit a wall?

  “Are you hurt?” The man held onto her arm. “You fell hard.”

  “I’m fine,” she huffed, taking in the carnage. Her coffee landed on her chest then the ground and now the empty cup laid absently on the sidewalk. Noticing the bag housing the browning was no longer in her hand, she searched for it on the ground. The bag peeked out from under the mans’ highly expensive—and shiny—shoes.