by CL Rowell
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Check Yes Juliet
By CL Rowell
License Notes
Thank you for purchasing this e-book. This work is the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied or distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes.
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
All characters are adults, 18+ in this story and no one is blood related.
If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to purchase their own copy and discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.
*The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction. The publication/use of these trademarks is not associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners. *
Copyright © 2019 C Cowles
All rights reserved.
To love without expectation of anything in return is to truly love selflessly
Chapter One
Geoff
∞∞∞
The rapid click click click of high heels on concrete alerted me to an incoming visitor to the geeky inner sanctum of our fraternity house. Since I can count on one hand—okay, make that one finger—the number of females to find their way willingly into the dank basement below the main house, I had a sneaking suspicion of who was coming and what to expect. I winced in anticipation and watched the door.
“Did you tell Tiffy Chambers we’re engaged?” Juliet Palomas…my best friend since our freshman year in high school—and man, did she look pissed.
“Uh…” Sometimes I really hated being right. I swallowed around a huge lump in my throat as I watched her stride across the room in glorious slow motion, her long blond hair billowing in the wind generated by her movement, luscious round D-cups bouncing with every step, as her full hips swished from side to side like a pendulum on a grandfather clock. “Uh…”
“Yes, or no, Einstein. It’s not rocket science. Either you did or you didn’t.” And, just like that, time sped up to normal and she was in my face—or her handkerchief-sized miniskirt was since I was sprawled in my computer chair at the time.
“Uh…maybe?”
“Was maybe one of the options?” Her hands flew to her hips as she bent at the waist, putting her face in front of mine and dangling her breasts in my peripheral vision—or they were in my peripheral vision until I registered their proximity, anyway. After that, my brain was pretty much useless mush as I became mesmerized by the plump pendulous fruits of the female persuasion swaying before my eyes—much like a cat would be entranced by a bright red dot dancing on the wall.
“Umm—what was the question again?” I licked my suddenly parched lips; not that it did much good, considering my mouth was as dry as the Sahara Desert.
“Eyes up here, jerk-face. Don’t be staring at my boobs and acting like you didn’t hear what I said.” She snapped her fingers in front of my face and straightened up, pink-cheeked, nearly giving me whiplash.
Startled, I blinked, blushing right along with her. “Sorry, but you put them right in my face—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, heard it all before—typical male. Just answer the question—yes or no.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, ready for anything. “Yes…kind of.”
“What?” she shrieked, “Why? What were you thinking? She has the biggest mouth in town! Everyone’s gonna think we’re engaged!”
“At first, I wasn’t thinking, but when she ran with it I was thinking sweet, she has the biggest mouth in town and everyone will think we’re engaged.”
The irritating squawk of something heavy scraping across the linoleum-covered concrete made my eyes fly open but it was just her, taking a seat on a somewhat empty corner of the desk—empty after she shoved my stuff out of the way, anyway.
“Why would you do that?” Her voice was soft but I could see the hurt and anger in her face—and in her blue-green eyes that always reminded me of the ocean. “People are being so hateful to me now.”
“People?”
“Women,” she shrugged, dropping her lashes to shield her eyes. “Even the woman at Let Em Eat Pie. You remember—the one I told you always gives me extra whipped cream on my chocolate cream pie cuz I ‘remind her of her little sister back home in Florida’? She dropped the saucer in front of me hard enough to damn near crack it into two pieces, and when I asked for whipped cream cuz there wasn’t any on it, she said they were out.”
“It could happen. They stay swamped year-round.”
“Yeah it could, except I saw her drown a football player’s piece of blueberry cobbler in a pile of it not even two minutes after she said that.”
“Ouch,” I winced, feeling her pain. “Did you say something to her?”
“Didn’t have to. She saw me looking and made a snide comment about girls that steal the most eligible bachelor in town and then hide their bling not deserving whipped cream. When I protested my innocence, she brought my check, slapped it on the table, and told me I needed to leave cuz liars aren’t welcome in their restaurant.”
I watched as she brushed away a shimmering teardrop from the corner of her eye, feeling lower than I’ve ever felt in my life. Sighing, I sat up and rubbed the nape of my neck. “Is there anything I can do to fix this?”
“Not unless you want to hire a sky writer to tell the truth—but you can explain it to me. Why did you do it?”
“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise to listen to the whole story, not interrupting every five-seconds, until I’m done. Can you do that?”
She shrugged, fighting to keep one corner of her mouth from curving up into an embarrassed smirk. “I can try.” She peeked up at me through thick, naturally dark lashes. “Hell, you know me, Geoff. I’m not famous for my patience, or for being quiet, or even for sitting still for more than five-seconds. I’m a freaking cheerleader—we’re expected to be loud and as full of energy as…”
“A toddler hyped up on chocolate?”
“Haha,” she stuck her tongue out, wrinkling her nose at me, “you do have a way with words, don’t you?”
“Thanks,” I kept my tone light, but with a serious edge so she’d know I meant what I was saying, “but I’ve seen you control your more impatient side when it was warranted, so I know I’m not asking for more than you’re capable of.”
“Wow, you are serious.” She frowned, nibbling on the cute cupid’s bow in the center of her upper lip. “Fine, I’ll sit on my hands and listen—but not here. This desk is as hard as a rock. My ass is going numb already. There’s gotta be somewhere else we can go that’s quiet and privat
e and comfortable in this chilly mausoleum y’all call a frat house.”
“What about the pool house out back? It’s almost the end of November and turkey day is coming up. No one goes back there after mid-September.”
“Is there any alcohol out there? After the day I’ve had I could use a drink.”
“Should be.” I logged off my game and led the way to the pool area, taking the shortcut through the cellar door that leads out to the backyard near the pool, hoping to avoid anyone that might be wandering around. The pool seemed desolate with its winter cover already on to protect it from blowing leaves and with the oversized umbrellas and chair cushions stowed away. It was depressing and dreary and I had to fight the urge to hurry past. Inside the circular pool house, I set the thermostat to heat and seventy-two degrees to cut the chill before slipping behind the bar. “What would you like?”
“Something simple,” she shrugged. “Crown and Coke? Seven and Seven? Rum and coconut water?”
Did we even have any soda or coconut water left? Turned out we did have the coconut water, but that was all we had. I sighed as I looked at the slim pickings, settling on the rum and coconut water when I realized we really were out of soda and the coconut water was going to expire before Christmas. Why waste it? “Rum and coconut water it is—do you want ice in it? We actually have several full trays in the freezer.”
“Sure. Anything to munch on?”
“A partial bag of Ruffles Cheddar and Sour Cream?”
“Does it have a clip or something to keep it fresh?”
“Yep,” I held it up to show her.
“That works for me.”
I dumped the chips into a bowl and placed them on a tray with two large tumblers of rum and coconut water. I set the tray on the table in front of the couch. “There we go. Anything else?”
“Just your explanation,” she eyes the glasses with suspicion. “Trying to get me tipsy and soften me up?”
“Nah, they’re weak.” I got comfortable and mentally rehearsed what I wanted to say. Nerves roiled in the acidic pit my belly had become, leaving me hesitating over both the chips and the drinks—not to mention my words.
Chapter Two
Juliet
∞∞∞
I knew I shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach and that’s why I asked about food—but I would have imbibed even without the chips. It had been one of those days—so much so that I fully expected to see Monday on my phone screen earlier when I checked instead of Thursday. I felt betrayed. How could my Thursday suck so badly—especially the one before Thanksgiving break? It was unprecedented! Thursdays are nestled between Wednesday (aka hump day) and Friday. They’re supposed to be good days. One more day until the weekend—yeah types of days
But instead, everywhere I went, it seemed, women were giving me dirty looks and attitude. Every single class I attended had at least one Bitchy Betsy as I started referring to them in my head. One girl I barely knew in passing even stuck her foot out and tried to trip me on my way to my seat in my psychology class, causing my backpack to go flying out of my arms and crash to the floor. If my laptop had been in there…
“Sorry,” she’d sneered, barely sparing me a glance, “I didn’t see you.” But I could see the truth in her eyes as she smirked at another girl across the aisle. She saw me. And the giggles and high-fives behind my back would have clued me in even if I’d somehow bought her story.
At lunch a clique of college freshmen stole my table on the patio where I decided to eat—literally picked it up with the other chairs and walked away with it.
“Oh, look, here’s a table nobody’s using,” a cute little blond I remembered from cheer tryouts exclaimed, looking right through me. “Let’s take it before someone shows up.”
I barely saved my sandwich and chips from crashing to the concrete that time!
At Russ’s and Stage, it continued—the sales ladies refused to assist me. Even the older female behind the pharmacy counter at Walmart got snippy with me when I asked about my allergy prescription!
That was why I was at Let Em Eat Pie in the first place—because it wasn’t a good day and pie always makes me feel better. I should have known better, though with the way things had been going. I should have just heeded the signs and returned to my dorm room. I didn’t, though. Instead, I walked in and took a seat in my usual area, expecting my usual treatment—which I didn’t get.
“Oh, it’s you,” my regular waitress, Sally Anne, groused as soon as she saw me. “What do you want?” Gone was the sweet smile and dulcet tones from previous visits. I let it slide.
“I’ll take my usual, a slice of chocolate cream pie with whipped cream and a vanilla coffee, extra cream and two sugars, please.”
When she brought my pie and coffee, she dropped the saucer from several inches in the air and I got the impression she wanted to do the same with the coffee as well. Fortunately, the manager was watching, alerted by the crash.
I blinked at her, bewildered. “Umm, you forgot my whipped cream?” She never forgot my whipped cream before. It was like a running joke between us.
“We’re out,” she snapped, stalking away to fetch a piece of blueberry cobbler for one of the University football players sitting nearby. I recognized him from the team.
I felt floored when I glanced up a few moments later and saw her carrying a bowl mounded over with clouds of sweet whipped cream. “Ex-excuse me,” I stammered, “I thought—”
“Aww, look at her,” she sneered. “So sad, boohoo—but that’s what happens when you steal the most eligible bachelor in town and then don’t even show off your bling! No whipped cream for you!”
“Who’d she steal?” I heard him ask as he dug into his cobbler.
“Geoff Blanxart.”
“I did not!” I protested, indignant, “We’re just friends.”
“That’s not what he told Tiffy Chambers,” she snapped, marching over and slapping my ticket on the table, coming close to tipping my coffee cup in the process. “If you can’t tell the truth just pay your bill and leave. We don’t like liars at Let Em Eat Pie.”
That’s not what he told Tiffy Chambers. I got up in a daze and paid for my pie, getting angrier and more hurt as her words echoed in my head. That’s not what he told Tiffy Chambers. Why the fuck is he telling Tiffy Chambers anything? I wondered—and it became imperative that I find out.
I wasn’t sure what to expect when I showed up at Geoff’s fraternity. I was so pissed off I wasn’t really thinking about it. If he wasn’t there, I’d wait for him to arrive. He had to come back sooner or later, and I wanted to punch him in his nose for gypping me out of my chocolate pie swimming in whipped cream when he did show up. Did I blame him for the situation I found myself in? You bet your sweet ass I did. Things were fine until everyone thought I took him off the market—thanks to Tiffy ‘Mouth-of-the-south’ Chambers—and where else would she hear it from if not straight from the horse’s mouth?
I found him right where I expected him to be—in the basement where they played their online games.
“Did you tell Tiffy Chambers were engaged?”
I wasn’t even certain I wanted to hear his side of the story. He could just make up a sob story to get out of trouble. I’ve seen him do it before so how would I even know? In the end I decided to hear him out though. After all, he is my best friend—but I resolved to watch him like a hawk as he spoke. If anyone knows his tells it’s me.
We’ve been friends since our freshman year in high school when we got paired up in Biology and he volunteered to cut up the icky dead frog so I wouldn’t have to. It kept me from failing Biology and getting cut from the squad—yep, my hero. After that semester, spent sitting beside him in his Clark Kent glasses with dark curls tumbling over his forehead, there was nothing I wouldn’t have done for him—for all the good it’s done me. If he’s noticed, he hasn’t shown his hand. Still, if anyone in the entire state of Louisiana would know if he was lying, I’d say I had the best shot.
&n
bsp; But, first, as he walked across the room and sat down, carefully placing the tray on the wicker table in front of us—
“Just so you know, you owe me a chocolate cream pie from Let Em Eat Pie and a huge can of whipped cream—the good kind, too.”
He blinked at me, nonplussed. “Uhh, okay?”
Once that was out of the way I squirmed around on the pool house couch until I got comfortable and took a big sip of my rum and coconut water—or what was supposed to be rum and coconut water. I made a face, not knowing what to call it. Weak didn’t quite cover it. Was there any rum in this concoction? If there was, I sure couldn’t taste it. But on the bright side at least I wasn’t going to get drunk.
“Now, talk. I’m all ears.” I folded my hands in my lap and waited to hear his side of the story.
Chapter Three
Geoff
∞∞∞
“I’m all ears…”
I snickered nervously. All ears? All eyes maybe. When those eyes narrowed, I hurriedly sucked in a deep breath. “Do you remember me telling you my grandma was leaving me a lot of money in her will, set up in a trust fund until I turned twenty-five?”
She frowned, confused, but followed my lead, nodding, “That was back in our junior year, wasn’t it? I remember you saying you felt like you got hustled out of the reading before hearing the whole story. Why? Did something happen—and what does that have to do with this?”
“Hang on, I’m getting to that.” I gathered my thought and started talking. “I was at the bar at the Shreveport country club a few days ago, being regaled by Bobby Thompson’s tales of a supposed hole-in-one on every hole, and how I’d never beat his score if I lived to be a hundred.”
“Bobby’s full of hot air…” she trailed off as I stared at her, belatedly remembering her promise to listen quietly. “Oops, that wasn’t a question.” She pantomimed locking her lips and throwing the key over her shoulder.
Amused, I continued, “Anyway, I didn’t see Grandpa and Dad when I came in, but I definitely heard them talking during a lull in Bobby’s story—and so did he.”
