WHY NOT?
Copyright © Carey Heywood LLC
All right reserved.
Editor: Erin Noelle
Cover design: Okay Creations
Formatting: Integrity Formatting
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Why Not? is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Visit my website at www.careyheywood.com
About this Book
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Also by Carey Heywood
Author’s Note
About the Author
Preview: The Other Side of Someday
Why Not?
He doesn’t love me.
Our relationship wasn’t supposed to have strings.
Now he’s almost all I think about.
He changed everything.
I’m not ready to tell him.
There’s a chance he’ll blame me when I do.
I don’t know if I can trust him but I’m afraid to face the future alone.
Will he ever love me, or will he always love me not?
Why Not? Is the third book in the Love Riddles Series.
Each book in this series can be read as a standalone.
Book one is Why Now?
Book 2 is Why Lie?
This is my fifteenth novel. It’s crazy how hard it still is to write the acknowledgements. Without fail, I cry. This time, since Why Not? Is the final book in my Love Riddles series I’m feeling even more emotional than usual. I loved this series and could not have written and published it without the help of my family, friends and readers.
Seth, thank you baby. You’re stuck with me forever.
Christine, Nasha, Alisa, Brenda, Emma, Kara, Jennifer, and Kimberly, you guys are my loudest cheerleaders and you’re also the best friends a gal could have. Thank you so much for always encouraging and inspiring me. I love you all so much.
Renee Carlino, you say I’m your angel but baby, I’ve seen your wings. Thank you.
Heidi McLaughlin, you are always looking out for me. I appreciate your help and friendship more than a simple thank you will ever show.
To Tami and Erin, you are both extraordinary at what you do. Your hard work has helped craft my words into what they are today. Thank you.
Erin Spencer, and the crew at Southern Belle Book Blog, thank you so much for always being there for me. Thank you for helping me get the word out about my books.
Renita McKinney, thank you so much for helping me shape this book into the story I dreamed it could be.
Vanessa Brown, you get dibs on Ryan. That’s how much I love you.
FTN, we rise by lifting others.
My readers, I am so incredibly grateful for your support. Thank you so much.
To my Keep Calm and Carey on members.
Thank you all so much for your love and support.
“Shhhhhh.”
Kacey presses her lips together but gives me big eyes to silently continue her argument.
“Just act cool,” I mutter, trying to catch my reflection in one of the first floor windows.
I spent hours deciding what to wear tonight. It took almost as long to convince Kacey to come with me.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” she whispers in response, taking my words as approval to speak again.
“It’s a house party,” I argue. “No one’s going to notice us.”
“Reils, we weren’t invited, and only juniors and seniors are here. They’re going to notice us and kick us out.”
“Stop worrying,” I whisper.
Kacey glares at me and points to her face. “I suck at blending.”
She has a point, we both look younger than everyone else here; she also stands out even more because she’s the only redhead at our school.
“Maybe you should have worn a hat,” I concede.
She starts to say something, but I cover her mouth and gasp, “He’s here.”
She pushes my hand away and snaps, “Of course he’s here. This is his house.”
Oh right. That’s the entire reason we’re here.
Brendan Lowell, “Trip” to his friends, is my dream crush.
He is perfect. His Spanish class is next to my World History class, so I time it every day where I can walk behind him when he goes to gym. Sure, I have to double time it and go in the opposite direction for my Chemistry class, but that doesn’t matter.
For those three minutes each day, I get to smell his cologne. He doesn’t wear Polo like all the other boys at school. I still don’t know what he wears. I’ve even had Gram take me to the mall just so I could smell all the different men’s fragrance bottles at Macy’s.
I can pick his scent out in a crowd, but still haven’t found out its name. If it’s not the way he smells, it’s his hair. I have dreamt countless nights of running my fingers through his gentle brown curls.
Another thing he doesn’t do that all the other boys at school seem to is coat his hair with a gallon of gel. Ick. They all have helmet heads. There’s no way I could run my fingers through that gunk.
He also dresses nice, and has a letter jacket. His is for baseball, not football like my big brother. Either way, he looks so cute in it.
I reach for Kacey’s hand and squeeze it as Trip walks past us. Since we’re hiding behind some curtains in his dining room, it isn’t shocking that he missed us. That still bugs me for some reason.
He might not be aware of it, but we’re soul mates. He should be able to, at the very least, sense when I’m near.
“Come on. Let’s follow him,” I murmur, tugging her out from behind the curtain.
Kacey cringes but doesn’t fight me. She’s my best friend, and as my best friend, she understands the importance of Trip and I falling madly in love. She’s going to be my maid of honor at our wedding and everything.
He moves through the crowded kitchen to a den on the other side.
The floor plan of this house is similar to one of my neighbors, so Kacey and I skirt the kitchen by taking the hall behind it. When we reach the opening to the den on the other side, I freeze.
My soul mate, even though it’s debatable if he is aware of my existence, is currently kissing the head cheerleader.
How could he?
He doesn’t have a girlfriend, I was certain of that. As much as I stalk . . . um, investigate him; I would have seen him at someone else’s locker or
some girl at his.
That is high school relationship 101, sharing lockers with your girl or boyfriend. Did they just hook up tonight? Tonight is supposed to be our night.
Spinning, I push her back into the hall.
“What’s wrong, Reilly?”
I shake my head, and the visions of his lips on hers away. “Let’s just go home.”
Kacey’s mouth falls open. “Go home? Now? Without talking to him?”
Sheesh, where did all of her confidence suddenly come from? I could have used more of this Kacey when we were both hiding behind curtains.
Taking a deep breath, I start to tell her what I saw, but then change my mind when another idea crosses it.
“Follow me.”
She tilts her head to the side. “Where?”
I point up the backstairs. “I want to see his room.”
Her eyes widen in shock. “Like where his bed is?”
Folding my arms over my chest, I glare at her. “How many times have you snuck into Jake’s room when you thought I was asleep?”
Kacey has a huge crush on my big brother.
If she weren’t such a good friend, I’d wonder if she used me to get closer to him. He was off at college now so if getting near him were her objective, she wouldn’t be out with me right now.
“Oh fine,” she murmurs, avoiding my eyes.
We hurry up the stairs. This is the first time I’ve ever been in his house so it takes peeking into more than one room before we find his. It’s the baseball trophies that gave it away.
I flop down onto his unmade bed, turning my face to inhale his scent from his pillow.
“Get off of his bed,” Kacey whispers. “What if someone comes upstairs?”
I want to lie on this bed forever, but she has a point. Grudgingly, I sit up. This can’t be it. I got all dressed up, even curled my hair to see him tonight. I am not leaving empty handed.
Crossing the room, I head straight to his dresser and pull open the top drawer.
“Oh my God, Reilly. What are you doing?”
“Taking a souvenir,” I reply, finding exactly what I was looking for.
“You’re going to steal from him?” she gasps.
“I like to think of it as borrowing,” I reply.
She moves to my side. “Are you taking a pair of his boxer shorts?”
“Not just one pair, all of them,” I reply.
The last time I saw grief that raw was after Grams passed away. Mr. Mackey looks just like Gramps did. Seeing him like that took me right back there, right back to the day we buried her.
Our grandparents raised my big brother Jake and I, so she was the closest thing I ever had to a mother. After she died, Heath’s mom, Mrs. Mackey, would make a point of checking up on Jake and me.
With Heath being Jake’s best friend, it made sense that she was concerned. Even being as sick as she was didn’t stop her from making sure we were doing okay.
Watching them lower her casket into the ground today was harder than I assumed it would be. As sick as she was, her death wasn’t a surprise. I even visited her to say goodbye before she passed.
Reaching up, I swipe away another tear.
“How are you holding up?”
Startled, I jump and turn to see Trip. “Shit. You scared me.”
He lifts his hands, showing me his palms. “I didn’t mean to.”
He moves to the swing next to mine and sits. When I left the Mackey’s house, something stopped me from going home. I drove around for a while before finally parking at Ferncliff Elementary.
“You’re quiet for being as big as you are,” I reply.
“I said hi before I walked up, but you seemed out of it.”
Great. I’ve only had a crush on Trip since tenth grade. Now he finds me swinging all by myself, late at night. This is not exactly normal behavior.
Tightening my grip on the chains, I shake my head. “I didn’t hear you.”
“I figured. So, I’ll repeat myself. You doing okay?”
“Mrs. Mackey’s funeral was today.”
It isn’t exactly an answer, but it’s the best I’ve got.
“I’m sorry for your loss. I know you were close.”
Facing forward, I stare unseeingly at the dim outline of the school. “We were.”
He does not miss the hitch in my voice.
His arm reaches out and grasps the chain of my swing, right over my hand. “Is there anything I can do?”
I shake my head, tears now rolling down my face.
He stands, moving in front of me to pull me up against him. His arms wrap tightly around me.
He still smells like he did in high school, his scent enveloping me as much as his embrace. With my nose pressed to the soft jersey of his tee, I sag into him and sob.
It’s not just Mrs. Mackey I cry for, but for my Gram, Gramps, and my parents who I only know from photographs.
As my tears subside, his hands begin to rub up and down my back. With his hold now loosened, I step away from him and wipe my face.
Embarrassed, I ask, “How did you know I was here?”
Pushing his hands into his pockets, he takes a step back. “I’m staying at the Cliff Inn while I look for a place to live. I was coming back and saw you drive by. You looked upset so I followed you.”
“How has the house hunt been going? Are you going to be renting or buying?”
He blinks.
Pressing my hand to my forehead, I laugh awkwardly. “God. That was rude of me, giving you the third degree.”
He smiles. His dimples appear, and my knees wobble.
“In my experience, reporters like to ask questions. And, I don’t mind. I’m planning to rent for a year or so. It’s just me, so I’m not in a rush to buy.”
I nod. “Makes sense. Where have you looked so far?”
He shrugs. “I’m leaning toward the same complex your brother lives in.”
Hmmm. His smile is gone replaced by a frown.
“Not excited about apartment living?”
“What gave me away?”
Before I can stop myself, I reach up and trace his lips with my finger.
Neither of us speaks. We both just stand there and stare at each other.
The next second I’m in his arms, and his lips are on mine. His hands are in my hair and mine are up the back of his shirt.
This isn’t a kiss, it’s a wild fire.
I’m engulfed by it, the heat of his lips against mine, and the flame’s lick of his tongue.
I’ve dreamt of this kiss since I was fifteen years old. Even my wildest dreams did not touch the passion of this one. When his mom moved away not long after he left town for college, I was sure this kiss would never happen.
I’m not the type to pine over a boy I didn’t think I’d ever see again. I got over my crush on him. As much as I love her, I had no desire sit at home each night like Kacey did mooning over Jake. I’ve had other crushes; I’ve dated and even had a few relationships.
That does not mean I ever forgot about Trip Lowell. Seeing him again after all of these years has brought all of those memories to the forefront. This kiss is over ten years in the making.
As fast as our kiss began, it ends. I’m left suddenly cold, the fire extinguished by his retreat. He’s not gone, but he’s moved backward at least three feet.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, lifting his hands the same way he did earlier after he startled me.
“What?” I breathe.
“You’re upset. You were crying. I didn’t mean to take advantage of that.”
My brow furrows. “You’re not.”
I take one step toward him and then another. My feet move until he’s right in front of me.
Sliding my hands up his chest, I ask, “Are you against me taking advantage of you?”
It doesn’t take him long to decide. He bends, his hands on my ass, lifting me. My legs circle his waist as I grab onto his shoulders.
His mouth plunders mine. I’m not only a
long for the ride, oh no, this may be my one and only opportunity to experience him.
My hands roam.
My tongue tangles with his.
My hips push forward against his very apparent hardness.
He carries me across the yard, his step sure without even looking. I’m so distracted I don’t realize where we’ve moved to until he sets my ass down on a picnic table.
He breaks our kiss to ask one final question. “You sure about this?”
I nod, my hands already at work unfastening his jeans.
“Say it,” he commands, and I oblige.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
The words barely leave my lips before his mouth is there. His hands make short work of my zipper, tugging it down, allowing the cool night air to kiss my skin.
The straps of my dress are next, yanked down with enough force to scrape at my flesh. My hands leave the fly of his jeans long enough to slip my arms free.
Then I reach for him, pushing my hand into his boxers to wrap my fingers around his silken length. He sucks in air when I grasp him, his hips pushing forward.
His hands mold my breasts, his thumbs swiping over my nipples through the fabric of my bra. As his lips move down my neck, he pushes the cups of my bra down, revealing me.
The downward path of his mouth takes him directly to one of my nipples. He peers up at me as I look down at him, his eyes almost black in the dim light.
He holds my gaze as his tongue circles the tip, and then he sucks it into his mouth. I continue to stroke his cock. The fingers of my other hand thread their way into his soft curls as I hold his mouth to my breast.
He releases it, his mouth moving to mine while his hands move to the skirt of my dress.
I can only moan against his lips as his fingers push aside my panties, and then slide into me. My grip tightens on his dick. I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted someone as much as I want him right now.
“Please,” I all but beg.
With a growl, he tears the flimsy black fabric off me.
Holy Fuck.
Sure, lace isn’t necessarily known for its strength but still, that might have been the sexiest thing that’s ever happened to me. Trip Lowell fucking ripped my underwear off me.
Why Not? (Love Riddles Book 3) Page 1
