Undone

by Mia Kayla

  Undone

  Mia Kayla

  MAM Books LLC

  Sometimes all we really need is for someone to say,

  “I believe in you.”

  To my ride or die…

  Thanks for always believing in me.

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Also by Mia Kayla

  Stay In Touch

  Acknowledgments

  MAM BOOKS LLC

  Copyright © 2019 by Mia Kayla

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at: www.authormiakayla.com

  Cover Designer: Jersey Girl Designs,

  www.jerseygirl-designs.com

  Photography: Lindee Robinson Photography, www.lindeerobinsonphotography.blogspot.com

  Copy Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

  Developmental Editor: Megan Hand

  Proof: Mitzi Carroll, www.facebook.com/mitzicarrolleditor

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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

  ISBN: 978-0-9996757-4-8

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter 1

  “No peeking. Keep your eyes closed, Angie.” I framed my sister’s tiny shoulders with my hands and led us to the door of Allswell, her boyfriend’s restaurant.

  The cool breeze had goose bumps rising on my bare arms, but I was used to being half-dressed to the nines when going out on a Saturday night. I wasn’t the celebrant tonight, but that hadn’t stopped me from rocking my silk halter and white jeans.

  I released her and straightened my top and fluffed my hair, not a wrinkle in sight, not a curl out of its place. Perfection was my middle name.

  “Tene, I don’t understand why you got me all dressed up to go to dinner. I’m in a miniskirt, and it’s cool tonight.” She teetered on her borrowed four-inch heels. “And these damn strappy shoes of yours.”

  Angie Armstrong, my little sister, was conservative, practical, and still way underdressed for her surprise party. If I had allowed her to show up in jeans and a T-shirt, she would’ve killed me.

  I knew she’d thank me later—after we entered the doors and she opened her eyes to see all our family and friends and half of our town of Rosendell was there, ready to celebrate her promotion to partner in our real estate investment company.

  Seven more steps to the door of Allswell. Once we were inside, we’d see purple and white balloons accenting every table, alternating in color, and a banner hanging against the far wall, screaming, Congratulations, in a girlie script. At the bar, a row of Angie’s favorite desserts had been laid out, arranged by flavors and colors, just as I had ordered. Cade, Angie’s boyfriend, had asked for help in planning, and I’d told him he wouldn’t be disappointed. Plus, I’d do anything for my little sister.

  Fine details mattered. In parties, at work, and in all aspects of life. Even my ten dainty pearls on the back of my stilettos matched my pearl earrings. The small features could make or ruin an outfit, a deal, an occasion.

  “Hey, Christene. Wait up!”

  I stopped mid-step, and my heart stuttered.

  That voice. I’d remember that voice anywhere. Thick. Deep. Sexy.

  It’d been months since I heard him or seen him in person. I’d viewed every movie he’d made, watched every YouTube video of his interviews, and listened in on my sister’s conversations with her boyfriend just to hear what was going on in his life.

  My pulse ticked up in tempo. Tick. Tick. Tick. Like a bass drumming on the inside of my wrists.

  I froze, took a deep breath, composed myself, and turned around ever so slowly to find Jordan Ryder—the highest-paid actor in show business, Hollywood’s hotshot, America’s it guy—staring right back at me.

  He was also Cade’s adopted brother. Yep. My sister’s boyfriend’s brother.

  He blew out a breath of smoke and then flicked his cigarette to the side. A sizzle of electric energy surged between us, just like that very first day I’d met him months ago.

  I took a step forward, and as though the world had suddenly tilted on its axis, I lost my footing. In slow motion, as if I were in The Matrix, my legs gave out, and I saw the ground, the gum on the concrete, the cracks in the foundation. One knee hit the concrete before I felt a pair of strong hands reach out to steady me.

  My hands fell to his hips, and I thanked the heavens above that I hadn’t totally wiped out. I thought I had been saved, saved by an angel. But just when I was about to pull myself up, my other knee gave out, and I face-planted. Not on the ground, but into his crotch.

  Oh. My. God.

  When I tried to push myself to a standing position, pain seared through my scalp. Because, like on an episode of America’s Funniest Home Videos, I realized my perfect curls were stuck on his belt buckle.

  “One second,” Jordan said.

  Is he laughing?

  Shit. Shit. Shit. He is.

  My sister was definitely laughing.

  I peered up at her, and she had her phone out.

  “Angie, what the hell are you doing? Help me!” Pain shot to the roots of my hair. Turning to look at her had only made my situation worse.

  “I’m taking a picture; otherwise, no one will believe me.”

  “I hate you.”

  “How’s the weather down there?” Jordan’s deep chuckle vibrated through my ears and my scalp.

  “You’re a jerk.”

  As they both worked to remove my hair from his belt buckle, Cade’s loud voice boomed in the background. “Angie, why the hell do you have your hand on my brother’s dick?”

  “Hey, baby,” she spoke as though this were normal. Her feeling up her boyfriend’s brother and me basically on my knees, attached to Jordan’s crotch.

  “Oh crap, Tene. Some of your hair got stuck in his belt. I told you, your hair was too long.”

  “Shut up.”

  I’m going to die.

  “I think I have to unzip.” There was amusement in Jordan’s tone. “Angie, can you help me?”

  “Fuck if you will. Angie, step back.” Cade’s thick thighs came into view.

  My focus was now on three pairs of shoes. “What the hell is taking so long?”

  The sound of his zipper and laughter echoed above me, and then I was free.

  My cheeks burned bright as I stood up, adjusted my halter top, and dusted off my jeans as though nothing had happened.

  I frowned when I noticed a dark stain on my knees. Damn it. That would annoy me the whole nig
ht.

  After I flattened my hair, my gaze met his.

  Jordan’s ocean-blue eyes locked with my brown ones. Wearing dark-washed jeans that hugged his thighs and a Henley that fit him perfectly, he looked as though he’d walked straight off a J.Crew billboard.

  I was too embarrassed to smile, let alone acknowledge his presence.

  “Seriously, I’ve never seen you fall … like, ever. You can run in heels. Mom said you went straight to walking and skipped the crawling phase altogether,” Angie said. “Did your heel get stuck in a crack?” She bit her lip to prevent her smile.

  “Who knows, Angie? It happens, okay?” But not to me. My ears felt impossibly hot. Later, I’d have to confiscate her phone and delete that embarrassing picture.

  “Jordan, what are you doing here?” Angie’s gaze flickered between the brothers. “Did Cade invite you to dinner with us?” She blinked. Then, double-blinked. “Wait.”

  I could almost see the lightbulb flickering on in her head.

  She glanced back at the restaurant, and the corner of her lips tipped up as all of Cade’s plans to surprise her vanished into the chilly night air. “We’re having dinner at his restaurant?” She popped out her hip, and her smile widened Crest-white style. Then, she pointed a finger in Cade’s direction. “You’re trying to surprise me. But for what? It’s not my birthday. Unless …” She tilted her head, seeming thoughtful, and tapped her pointer finger against her chin. “Unless it’s for my promotion to partner.” Her pitch increased with all-knowing confirmation.

  Oh, great. Surprise ruined.

  Jordan ran one hand through his blondish-brown hair, making it stick up on end, and stepped between Angie and Cade. “What? No. I was just in the area.” His words flowed without hesitation; his face actor steady.

  For a moment, I thought we were in the clear until Angie’s eyes perused the area, spotting every single one of our family members’ cars in the parking lot.

  Shit. Busted.

  Coming to her own conclusion, Angie clasped her hands together and leaped up and down. She propelled her short frame into Cade’s massive one, wrapping her arms around his neck. The muscle in his jaw jumped, and his eyes narrowed on Jordan.

  The brothers were similar in height, but they didn’t look anything alike. Where Cade was stocky with dark hair and dark eyes, Jordan looked like Barbie’s boyfriend, Ken—lean muscles, tall stature, and blond. They were foster brothers turned adopted brothers, so I wouldn’t expect them to look alike, but still, they were striking. No doubt, when together, they drew attention. I wouldn’t know who I’d place my money on if they were both in the ring.

  Probably Cade. Jordan was way too pretty.

  “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!” Angie squealed, hanging on to Cade’s neck, her legs swinging from side to side.

  His eyes softened, and his massive body melted into her when he placed her on the ground. It was the oddest and most heartwarming thing, watching this big, tatted-up muscleman cower into her tiny frame. It was as if she could break him with one look, one word, one touch.

  Sigh.

  I’d never known what it was like to hold that much power over someone. For someone to love me with such intensity that everything I thought, did, or said mattered to them.

  He framed her heart-shaped face with his overpowering hands. “Congrats, my Angel.”

  My sister had been in love before but not like this, not where her whole being lit up at his words. My insides were doused with fiery envy. The good kind—where I didn’t want to smother her in her sleep or wish her some incurable disease because she was happy, but one where I was genuinely pleased for her and ultimately wanted the same thing for myself one day.

  “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Cade asked, turning toward me.

  “Yeah. Good one. Answer my phone when I was trying to bring the girl of the hour here. That wouldn’t have given away your surprise. Nope. Not at all.” I rolled my eyes and shot him a look.

  “I didn’t expect asshole over here to take a cigarette break in front of the bar.”

  “Sorry, man.” Jordan winced and held his hands up.

  Cade swung an arm around Angie’s lower back and brought her closer, his annoyance at the two of us gone. “Come on, baby. Let me take you inside. Just act surprised, okay?”

  “Okay.” Angie squealed, giddy, as she skipped into Allswell with Cade.

  When the door shut behind them, I tilted my head toward Jordan. “You coming?”

  His stare was directly on the door and filled with a deep set of emotions I couldn’t place.

  He leaned back against the building, one leg propped up against the brick wall. If I snapped a picture, I could sell the shot to some high-paying magazine.

  He took out another cigarette and placed it between his lips. “I’m going to have another one of these. You want one?”

  I peered into his baby-blue eyes. He seemed lost for a second, so I decided I’d stay.

  “You know Cade’s just messing around, right?” I took the cigarette he’d offered and rubbed it between my fingertips, hoping my mother wouldn’t catch me out here. “He’ll forgive you.”

  “Yeah, I know. But shit.” He rubbed his free hand against his forehead. “He’s been planning this for months. Everything from the decorations right down to the menu. It’s all he’s been talking about.”

  “But he’ll still forgive you.”

  I bent toward the silver flip-top Zippo he held between us, so I could light my cigarette. The whiff of his expensive cologne was intoxicating, teasing, and begging me to lean in closer. He smelled of pine and an all-masculine scent. Is it Creed, Tom Ford, Clive Christian?

  Whatever it was, I wanted to inhale it, taste it off his skin.

  The wind blew the flicker of the lighter flame out. Spark but no light.

  He placed his cigarette between his lips, and when the spark still didn’t light, he cupped his hand around the lighter to light his.

  I moved in closer, in the little corner right next to the door, to block the wind, and when he angled in, I placed my cigarette against his lit one.

  We were so close that I could feel the warmth of his body radiating against mine.

  He looked divine, smelled divine, and I needed divine intervention to stay far, far away from him. I didn’t believe in insta-love, but lust? Yeah, that was a different story.

  But given that he was the brother of my sister’s boyfriend … yeah, well, that automatically took him off my list. I liked my men uncomplicated and detached. Feelings and commitment and relinquishing control were things I stayed away from, ever since my last and only real relationship.

  I took a long drag and anchored myself against the wall. I wasn’t a regular smoker, just a social one, but the first drag of the cigarette was like the first sip of my morning coffee. It relaxed my muscles, eased my body, and cleared my mind.

  If my mother caught me smoking, I wouldn’t hear the end of it. Not like I cared. I wasn’t the favorite, not by a long shot. That was Angie, but still, I didn’t want to hear my mother’s mouth run a Nile-mile marathon.

  I peered toward the blue-eyed stud beside me. He was the Jordan Ryder from the big screen, and though our town was small, everyone most likely knew who he was.

  His eyes perused the area as though he was waiting for something.

  “Why are you so skittish?” I flicked off the ashes, the black and white falling to the ground, scattering in the wind.

  “I came into town unannounced and want to stay incognito.” He exhaled a puff of smoke, and I watched as the bubble of white fizzled into the air. “Safety-wise, I’ve got Dex. He’s right over there.”

  “Who?”

  “One of my bodyguards.”

  He tipped his chin toward the street where I took in an intimidating, wrestler-looking, bald-headed, over six-foot-tall male. A brick wall in an all-black suit, standing by the Lincoln. How hadn’t I noticed him before?

  “Are you famous or something?” My face
was steady, straight, and without humor.

  “You’re killing me here, Christene. Do you really not know who I am?” He placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt.

  Too bad I knew he was acting. I bet he pulled this cute act on all the women. And the problem was, he didn’t have to pull any act. He was charming just standing there, mute.

  “I thought your sister would have told you by now.”

  I’d met him months ago when I was trying to find Angie. I’d traveled to Cade’s hometown, and when Jordan opened the door, I knew immediately who he was. His face was plastered all over gossip rags and entertainment shows. But I’d decided to play coy at the time. Now, it was time to stop the game.

  He was beyond recognizable. I believed I’d passed his billboard advertising cologne, on the highway.

  “Okay, fine. Angie told me who you were, and I guess I did recognize you from somewhere.”

  This time, he smiled, dimple on his chin and all, and I was filled with a strange inner excitement.

  “I knew it.” He pointed a finger in my direction, smiling.

  “But, honestly, you look better on-screen. You look so different, um … in person.” I laughed because of the way I’d said it, it sounded bad, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth. He was like an Adonis in the flesh, but I didn’t want to inflate his ego any further than it already was.

  I tilted my head toward the meathead standing by the car. I’d lived my life flying free, doing what I wanted. I didn’t find it surprising that Jordan had a bodyguard, just an inconvenience. “Can you leave without him?”