Contents
Acknowledgments
1. Kelly
2. Kelly
3. Kasper
4. Dean
5. Kelly
6. Damon
7. Kelly
8. Kelly
9. Kelly
10. Dean
11. Kelly
12. Kelly
13. Kelly
14. Dean
15. Kelly
16. Kelly
17. Kelly
18. Damon
19. Kelly
20. Kelly
21. Kelly
About the Author
Copyright 2018 Erica Andrews
Cover Design 2018
Cover design by Probook Premade Book Cover
www.premade-bookcovers.com
Editing by Heather Long
Formatting by Gina Wynn
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Any unauthorized use of this material is prohibited.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales are completely coincidence.
Acknowledgments
Wow!
Okay so after many months and many, many hours, my first book is here. Which in those many months I have had a lot of help and couldn’t have done it without certain people. First off, my husband, who didn’t laugh when I told him what I wanted to do. Instead, he gave me the money to make it happen, and went through the drive-thru many nights. My children, who love to tell everyone what I do. And who sat and wrote their own stories with me. My editor, Heather, who was so patient and deserves sainthood after this. Rebecca Royce, for just being there for questions and just to talk. And the few who read my book when it was unedited and rough and told me to keep going. Again, thank you to everybody, and I hope you know how much I appreciate you.
One
Kelly
1. I didn’t like road trips alone.
2. I got bored easy.
3. I hated sitting on the side of the road.
Who would have thought a nine-hour road trip to my new home could be so educational? Sitting in my mustang while I drove down HWY 58 in the middle of summer with the top down, radio blaring, and the warm sun on my face, made me feel alive for the first time in what seemed like forever. My parents brought me here once as a small child, during a particular fascination with all things Amish. They were so excited to learn about the Amish and their ways. My siblings and myself, not so much. We seemed to only remember the cramped backseat serving as our jail cell during the nine-hour car ride there and again on the way home. Now with nothing holding me back, I decided to take a chance. To say what the hell and go where I wanted. Which was why I took this route, to start over somewhere else entirely. After the utter humiliation of my marriage self-destructing, I needed to abandon the small town where I’d lived my whole life. Dare to be different, my new motto. Because normal? Normal was overrated.
You know, let me back up a step. I didn’t want anyone to be confused. So, I should introduce myself. I’m Kelly Green. I’m five-foot zip, have caramel hair as well as green eyes. Very girl next door, trust me—girl next door was the story of my old life. Still, we were at the beginning. This was supposed to be my fun, daring trip of a lifetime, until the familiar sputtering of the engine warned me that my fun was about to end. So, now, here I sat on the side of the road in my bright baby blue shorts, only which were not so baby blue anymore, and that happened to match my favorite Panic at the Disco shirt.
Wondering how the hell it happened? Well, I ran out of gas. Granted, a woman of twenty-seven should know better than to run out of gas. I meant, I went through all the normal checklists of life, college, house, married a douche, sold the house, divorced a douche. See, normal. I might had been busier dancing and bobbing my head along to my favorite bands than remembering to get gas. Much less plug my phone in the charger. Got the picture? While I sat in the grass on the side of the road, I searched for some sign to point me to how far I was from the town I’d christened to become my new home.
I thought I might be close to Hazelton, which was the name of the town I was supposed to call home. At least I thought I was close, I might have been listening to my music instead of GPS. Though if anyone asked, I’d never tell, and you didn’t hear it from me.
So how did I forget to get gas? Doughnuts. Pure and simple, doughnuts. My weakness. Everyone’s got one. Don’t judge me, because mine was weirder than yours. At least, I admitted they were my Kryptonite.
They were the reason why I was currently sitting on the side of 58 with my waist length caramel hair sticking to my neck and certain other body parts that were not flattering to say the least. Oh, and my cell phone had died, because I forgot to plug it in the charger while eating said doughnuts and listening to my Amazon music.
It was a sad day when the doughnuts at the coffee shop next door to the gas station called my name. Kelly… Kelly… they called with all their glazed goodness. My sweet tooth had foiled me again. This was not the first time sweets caused a downward spiral in my life. Doughnuts even caused the end of my marriage.
I could not make this stuff up if I tried.
Getting up early one day for a doughnut and coffee run, which I wouldn’t admit I did often, I’d seen hubby’s phone lit up with the name Gina. For the record, he was in the shower. Who the hell was Gina you ask, that was what I wondered, too. So, I answered the phone and asked. Found out she was the new intern at my husband’s law firm and she loved him. I asked for how long had she loved him, and she said six months, so I said divorce. Though to be honest we probably should had divorced long before then.
Right, so here I was in another doughnut incident. A story that had taken a turn for the worse to decide to drive cross country, for a new job and a new start where nobody knew me or my humiliation. Maybe I should’ve filled up at the last town I was in and left the damn doughnuts alone. The world will never know how my life might have gone if I had.
Let’s run the check list down. No gas. No friends to call. No idea how far to the next town. No civilization in sight. Screwed was a definite understatement.
After what felt like hours, I checked my watch. It had only been 45 minutes. I pushed myself up off the ground. Which in turn elicited a groan from me. If anyone heard my groaning and moaning I might have been embarrassed. But since no one was around to dispute me, I’d say I groaned sexily as I tried getting up. Apparently being twenty-seven though, had now allowed my bones and muscles to stop working after sitting for long periods of time. Or it could be that I just liked sweets, and gyms hated me, but whatever. Though I was not horrible to gaze upon. Some might have said I could even be gorgeous if I was six inches taller and twenty pounds lighter, or if we had the standards of what gorgeous was in the 1950s. Not the size two and five foot eight standards of today’s photoshopping age. If I had to pick an actress, which I hated to do, who I’d say I looked like I’d say that chick from the shopaholic movie, you know the one. Though, maybe a lot curvier and slightly shorter. Not to mention a smattering of freckles across my face, and my I Love Lucy lips.
In the distance, an older blue pickup truck tooled down the road in my direction. It could’ve been a Ford or Chevy for all I knew. I could never tell them apart. As my brain went between possible serial killer scenarios or being rescued, my body had decided to make the decision for me. Said body than decided to start waving my arms wildly in the air like an orangutan defending her territory. All I needed was the sounds and the scratching of the butt to complete my magnificen
t ensemble.
Surprisingly enough the orangutan impersonation seemed to work because the truck stopped. I knew he didn’t stop for my drop-dead body, because I had slowly become the melted version of myself. Which meant that my body was dripping with sweat. My hair was plastered to my face not to mention the dirt now on my clothes and body from where I had sat on the ground.
I approached the vehicle slowly because my brain had finally caught up with my body and remembered the numerous serial killer possibilities. As I inched my way toward the truck on my tip toes. I slowly chanted the words serial killer through my mind. Hoping this would help me keep my wits.
After edging up to the window, I peered in and all my rational thoughts went out the window. Grinning at me behind the steering wheel, was Superman meets Gambit. If you don’t know these characters, well—sorry. Truly my heart might’ve skipped a couple of beats. The grin made me forget the many consequences of meeting strangers on the side of a deserted road. With long shoulder length brown hair that a girl would envy and dark brown eyes that were almost black as night with a cleft in the chin so close to the mouth currently talking to me.
He was talking to me… oh yeah.
Shaking my head slightly to clear the fogginess, I said, “I’m sorry, what did you say?” The question brought a smile to the mouth that I had just been staring at up a notch.
“I said, do you need a lift?”
I should have been polite like my mama had taught me, but usually I was a tad too truthful for most people. Then and there, I decided to be one hundred percent Kelly Green.
Cocking my hip to the side and leaning up against his door I said, “Well, I’d loved one, but I wasn’t sure. You could be a serial killer, and since I have an unlucky streak a mile wide I’m gonna have to pass.” See a nice medium between southern politeness and my truthfulness. My mama would have been proud. At that point, I halfway expected the offending gesture my too honest for good company mouth typically earned. Imagine my surprise when the most masculine laugh erupted from this man’s throat.
Arm resting in the open window, he made no effort to disguise the way he gave me the once over. “I’ve gotta say, I bet with that accent you probably get away with saying just about anything you want, right?” He offered me his hand to shake. “Name’s Kasper Stone, and I think you might be wrong on not needing that lift.”
Dropping his hand, I raised my eyebrows slightly, and said the first thing that popped in my head. “Like, Casper, the friendly ghost?” Sucking on my bottom lip, I added, “I mean, hi, I’m Kelly Green.”
Smirking slightly and looking probably like this wasn’t the first time someone linked his name to the cartoon, he said, “Well nice to meet you Kelly Green. And to your question, no, it was a family name, and it’s with a K not a C.” Clearing his throat he continued, “Now, that detail is out of the way, hop in, I’ll drive you to the next town, and I won’t tie you up.” Leaning out of the truck slightly, he whispered, “Unless you want me to.”
Not knowing what to say, which didn’t happen often, I stood there with my mouth slightly open.
At my continued silence, he rubbed the back of his neck. “It was a joke, sorry, I wasn’t usually good at those. That’s more Dean’s thing.”
Curious, I asked, “Who’s Dean?”
“A friend.” Rubbing his hands together, he said. “Now how about that ride?”
Pushing away from the truck, I straightened to answer his question. “You don’t even know where I’m headed, I could be headed to Canada or Antarctica for all you know.”
Pausing, he regarded the road in front of him and leaned back to look me up and down. “See, I figured no matter where you went, you could at least stop at the next town up and see about your car. And I believe Antarctica is in the opposite direction. Now if that’s where you’re headed I’d say you might be lost.” Finished, he grinned like holding back his laughter was an impossible task.
Lifting my nose in the air slightly and crossing my arms, I stared straight at him. “As it happens, the next town up is where I’m headed, or I think it is at least. I just don’t like people to assume things about me.”
Shrugging, he said, “Well I assumed, you wanted your car towed and a place to sleep. Did it really matter either way?”
With an eye roll I didn’t bother to hide—I was mature like that—I made my decision. I just hoped it was the right decision and not one made with certain parts of my body.
After taking a deep breath, I let it out and all my words with it. “All right, let me get my bags.”
I was halfway to my car when his truck door slammed. Why did he even open the door? I swung around. Good lord he was tall. Most guys were taller than me, but he was way taller than me. Standing at least six feet or an inch over, he was the definition of sexy lumberjack. With his long dark hair and dark eyes. His red flannel shirt that was slightly unbuttoned and tight jeans with brown leather boots completed the effect. He was the epitome of the southern lumberjack that you’d meet in the mountains. The one you hoped knocked on your door to borrow sugar. The man was not even trying. He just walked to my car and it made my ovaries clench. I was in trouble.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
Running a hand through his hair, he stopped in front of me. “I figured I would help with your bags, or whatever you might have in your trunk. Unless it’s a dead body, then you’re on your own.”
Nodding, I said, “Wow, you’re really cheesy. It was cute, but cheesy.”
With a pat to his arm, I continued to the car and tossed him a grin over my shoulder. “Okay, well come on, there’s not much. I’m having the rest sent with my furniture and things for the house I’m renting.” Was that too much information to someone I just met? I hated when I got nervous and I started to blather. Though to be honest I was really a blather mouth with no filter. It was a terrible combination to have.
After grabbing my purse from the passenger seat, I pushed the button on my key ring to pop the trunk. He grabbed the single suitcase and inflatable mattress I’d brought for my first night in the new place. Shutting the trunk, he asked, “Really, where you moving to?”
Crossing my arms as we walked back toward his truck, I took one last glance at my mustang. I really hated leaving her there. “Like I said, I don’t think I’m far from the town I’m moving too. At least that’s what my GPS said. It was a little confusing.” I wasn’t about to tell him I was confused because I was paying more attention to my music playlist than the GPS. “I’m actually headed for Hazelton.”
Eyebrows raised, he smiled smugly. “Yeah, that’s where I’m headed, I actually live in Daily, but my buddies live in Hazelton still.”
“Still? Are you from there?”
Shifting his hold on the suitcase and inflatable bed better flexed the muscles in his arms. Which really, I wasn’t noticing. It was more of a glance at the art in front of me. I could say I was an artist, right? Didn’t everyone talk to themselves as much as me? In the meanwhile, Kasper stopped and smiled as if he just received a revelation.
“I was born and raised there, small world, huh?”
Continuing, I circled to the passenger door and whispered quietly to myself, “Yes such a small world.” And I didn’t know if I should be happy or upset.
Kasper stowed my stuff in the bed of the truck and then made his way to the driver’s seat. Glancing over, he smiled at me and started the engine.
After he pulled back onto the highway, we left my Mustang behind. Cutting my gaze at him, I exhaled my question in a rush, “So, I hope I wasn’t putting you out or stopping you from anything important?”
Still grinning, he fiddled with the radio. I figured he didn’t like the silence any more than me. Not surprising considering the area, he turned to a country station playing a Dierks Bentley song. Cutting his gaze at me for a moment before looking back at the road he said, “Yeah, about that. I’m supposed to eat breakfast with two of my friends. I kind of told you about Dean. Anyway, we’ve al
ways met at the diner on Sundays every week since I moved to Daily. It’s kind of a way for us to catch up. We’ve known each other since elementary school and we like to hang out a lot.”
So, he kept in touch with his friends from school. Sweet. I swore, he had to have a flaw. Watching the muscles play along his arm on the steering wheel and the other arm resting on the open window, I was kinda disappointed we wouldn’t be hanging out for longer.
“Oh, well that’s okay then, you can just drop me off as soon as we hit town. I can call a taxi from one of the buildings there. I don’t wanna make you late or anything.”
Turning sideways in my seat, I studied his reaction. I was confused and slightly hurt that all he did was smile at me. Self-involved? Maybe. I meant, I wasn’t that bad to hang out with. Did I smell? I had to stop myself from doing the pit test.
Preoccupied, I almost missed it when he said, “I’ve actually got a better idea.”
Maybe walking had been a better idea.
“Why, don’t you have breakfast with us? You can meet people in town and have a good meal and they make the best Danishes and muffins in town. Please, it’ll actually help us both out.”
Help us both out, huh? Still… he mentioned pastries. I was hot. I was hungry. Danishes weren’t doughnuts, but they pulled a close second in my book.
Probably better to keep it casual. We’d just met, remember? “Sure, I mean, I guess, I might enjoy a Danish for breakfast. If they’re good.”
Road To Me Page 1
