by Whitley Cox
Quick & Easy
Book 2, A Quick Billionaires Novella
Whitley Cox
Copyright © 2018 by Whitley Cox
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review
ISBN: 978-1-989081-05-1
Contents
About the Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
If You’ve Enjoyed This Book
Other Available Books by Whitley Cox
Upcoming in 2018
Acknowledgments
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About the Author
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Sneak Peek - Quick & Reckless
Quick & Reckless - Chapter 1
For Authors Jeanne St. James and Erica Lynn,
My sisters from other misters, my people, my bitches.
This one is for you.
And also, in your faces, because I can so write a novella.
Not all my books wind up being 100,000 words.
Xoxo
Love you, Ladies.
About the Book
Getting over your ex isn’t as easy as getting back under them.
Heather Alvarez thought she was over Gavin McAllister. After all, he dumped her—on the phone—ten years ago, then vanished from her life and broke her heart. But now he’s back, and all Heather wants is revenge.
Or at the very least, the breakup sex he still owes her.
Ten years ago, Gavin McAllister made a choice and lost the one woman he’s ever loved. Now he’s determined to win her back, even if it means telling the truth. He’d do just about anything for another chance with Heather.
But a one-night stand, no strings, no future? He doesn’t think so.
This time he wants forever.
Chapter 1
Heather
Wasn’t it supposed to rain at a funeral?
It seemed every movie that had a funeral scene took place in the rain. All the guests wore black and clutched big black umbrellas while the rain masked the tears that slipped endlessly down their cheeks; the gray clouds in the sky mimicked the dark mood in everyone’s hearts.
But it wasn’t raining today. Not even a cloud in the damn sky. What the hell?
Heather Alvarez smoothed down the skirt of her charcoal gray lace dress (she just couldn’t do black, even today) and stepped out of her Volkswagen Jetta. The warm April sun hit her cheeks at the same time a gust of wind ruffled the hair on the back of her neck.
She loved spring.
Her dad had loved spring, too.
“There you are,” said her mother, Rosemary, coming out of their family’s Puerto Rican restaurant, Hola, Amigos. “I was beginning to worry.”
Heather offered her mother a small smile as she swung her purse over her shoulder. “Sorry, Mama. There was an emergency at work. You know how busy tax season can get.” Heather bent down and planted a kiss on her mother’s cheek before following her through the full parking lot to the front doors. “Have you needed my help? Or did Lena and Aunt Florence show up?”
Rosemary’s hand fell to her daughter’s back, bringing the scent of cumin and garlic and very subtle lavender. Her mother always smelled like cumin and garlic from the restaurant and lavender from her favorite shampoo.
She rubbed Heather’s back affectionately, maternally. “We’ve had loads of help. Don’t worry, sweetheart. Besides, you were here setting up all last night. What time did you finally get to bed?”
Heather dismissed the question with a shrug.
Rosemary let out a rattled sigh and glanced up at her daughter. Her pale blue eyes were glassy and her strong jaw tight. “This is what he wanted. He didn’t want anybody crying over him. He wanted a party. So, we’re going to give him a party.”
Heather swallowed past the hard lump in her throat and looped her arm around her mother’s slender shoulders, tugging her in tight. “I know, Mama. We’re going to throw him the best celebration of life imaginable. Blow the roof off the place.”
Rosemary chuckled and pulled open the door to the restaurant. Voices, loud and cheerful, greeted them. She met her daughter’s eyes one more time before tossing on a giant smile. “Show time.”
“Heather!” half a dozen or more people cheered as she stepped inside the bright and spacious restaurant. Tables had been pushed to the side and chairs lined up in rows. A podium stood front and center below the sign for half-price daiquiris on Mondays, and a small table with the picture of Eduardo Luis Gomez Alvarez sat next to it. Food, piled high, dressed the tables, while beer, local and imported, nestled tightly into ice buckets. Yes, her dad certainly knew how to throw a party, even in the afterlife.
Just like her mother was, Heather slowly made the rounds of all the guests, accepting condolences and sympathy, hugs and hand pats. Everyone had a story to tell about her father, all good, most funny. And Heather listened. She nodded. She cried. She laughed. By the time the minister announced the start of the sermon, Heather was exhausted, all cried out and ready to go home.
But she couldn’t.
Her mother needed her. It was just the two of them now, and she needed to take care of her mom, be there for her. Hold her.
She took her seat in the front row, her mother on her left, her mother’s best friend, Lena, on her right. Her mother’s sister, Heather’s Aunt Florence, sat on the other side of Rosemary, their hands clasped tight. Slowly, the noise in the restaurant subsided as people took their seats, the din of conversation and the scraping of chair legs on tile receding with the clearing of the minister’s throat.
Heather spun around to take in all the people who had come to say “goodbye” to her father, to celebrate him and what he meant to the community. She absorbed their love, allowed it to bolster her own. Her father had meant everything to her, and in the blink of an eye—a heart attack at the dinner table when they were out for her birthday three weeks ago—he was gone.
It was a packed house. Standing room only and well over the legal limit of patrons for the restaurant. But they’d closed it for the day, put up signs and purchased special permits. If Eduardo Alvarez did anything, he did it aboveboard and he did it right. She was just about to turn back to the front when a big body sneaking in at the back caught her eye. The entire atmosphere in the restaurant shifted, and oxygen left Heather’s lungs as she watched him slowly edge his way behind people, sticking to the shadows and the back of the room. He was tall. Perhaps taller than she remembered and bigger, too. His shoulders and chest were broader, and the way his dress pants hugged his thighs told her he still liked to work out and probably ride his mountain bike.
All the moisture left her mouth as she continued to follow him with her eyes. His head was down, and when he accidentally bumped someone, he was quick to apologize and move on. Eventually, he found a safe space next to the bar, quietly ordered a drink, then stood back, leaning the wide expanse of his back against a wooden column. He tipped his drink up, revealing a very expensive-looking watch at his wrist. His suit was tailored to perfection and high quality, too. Heather didn’t know much about fashion or designers, but she knew that thing wasn’t from JCPenney. His impossibly deep blue eyes closed, and his throat undulated on a swallow as he brought t
he belly-warming amber liquid into his mouth.
Heather swallowed, too. Fuck, he was still as drop-dead gorgeous as she remembered, as she dreamed. He still hadn’t noticed her, so she took an extra moment to check him out. His swath of dark hair was shorter now, tamer, though it still had that unruly wave to it at the front. He never had been able to control the curl. But she’d loved it. Loved twirling her fingers around and around the silky soft strands as he laid his head in her lap and they watched movies. His gaze shifted, and suddenly his eyes lasered in on her.
A gasp escaped her before she could stop it, and immediately Heather spun back around in her seat. Her mother squeezed her hand, then patted the top with her other hand. “You okay, sweetheart?”
Heather swallowed again. “Yeah, Mama. I’m fine.” Even though she was anything but. The back of her neck prickled and heated from his stare. She knew he was staring. Just knew it. His gaze had always been fierce. Had always stripped her bare and made her submit to his will.
I can’t turn around. Willpower, girlie, willpower. Ah, fuck it.
She craned her neck around to catch another glimpse, and sure enough, he was zeroed in on her like a dog with a bone. The corner of his sexy mouth crooked up into a sad half-smile. His head shifted in an almost indiscernible nod.
The minister cleared his throat again, forcing Heather to spin back around. Her chest tightened and her gut knotted. The minister opened up his book and began. But Heather didn’t hear a damn word. She was too focused on the voices in her head, on the memories that involved the impeccably dressed man at the back of the room. Gavin McAllister, the love of her life, and the boy who broke her heart.
Chapter 2
Gavin
Jesus fuck, she looked better than ever. Sexy as hell with her new hairstyle. The sleek dark bob that shimmied around those slender shoulders and brushed the neck he loved to kiss. He’d always had a thing for her neck. Something about how long and soft it was. The way it smelled, tasted. The feel of her pulse beating against his lips, faster and faster as he brought her closer to climax. God, he never could get enough of feeling her pulse race as he made her come. Never. Those cries still haunted his dreams each and every night. He compared other women’s cries of ecstasy to hers as he took them between the sheets, but they never held a candle to her.
Gavin hoped she wouldn’t see him until after the service, during the “party” part of the celebration of life. But when he’d caught her watching him, a part of him had been happy to know she’d recognized him, that he hadn’t changed so much she didn’t even know who he was.
Because inside he’d changed a lot. Inside he was a completely different man than the boy she’d known ten years ago, the boy who had pursued her until she’d relented, popped her cherry and stolen her heart. The boy who had promised that they’d be together forever and their long-distance relationship would work. The boy who had broken her heart over the phone, the coward who had heard her wracking sobs even in his dreams weeks later, but never called to check on her. Not once.
He wasn’t that boy anymore. He wasn’t that coward. He wasn’t that asshole who wanted the freedom to party and sleep with whatever woman he wanted while away at college, rather than stick out the long-distance relationship with a great girl back home. No. He’d grown the fuck up. He’d grown the fuck up a while ago, but only now did he finally believe he might be worthy again of her love.
The sermon was nice. People near and dear to Eddie got up and spoke about him. Spoke about the kind man Gavin remembered fondly. He was a man who would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it, a man who helped his employees move, lifting the boxes himself, a man who gave all the leftovers from the kitchen each day to the homeless. This was the man they were mourning. A friend to all. A hero, and a man Gavin had considered a father.
Gavin’s dad had skipped town when Gavin was two, going out for diapers and never coming back. His mother had tried her hardest to be both mom and dad, doing the best she could. But it was tough. She was a pediatric nurse and worked long hours, often through the night, which left ample time for Gavin to fall in with the wrong crowd and get up to no good. Never caught, but often close, he’d started doing some petty theft. Candy bars and gum, movies and DVDs. He’d gotten good at it, too. It wasn’t until he decided to sneak into the back of a restaurant to try to steal a case of Corona beer that he was caught.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the deep voice with just a hint of a Spanish accent said in warning. “Not without a bag of limes, anyway. You can’t drink Corona without a lime.”
Gavin spun around. He’d almost made it out the back door scot-free. He froze. The man was huge. At least six foot one with dark hair, dark eyes, tanned skin. He had a big bushy mustache and a faint pink scar through his left eyebrow.
He’s going to kill me.
The man took a few steps forward. “How old are you, son?”
Gavin swallowed. “S-sixteen.”
The man nodded. “What’s your name?”
“Gavin.”
He took a few more steps, then held out his hand. “I’m Eddie and this here is my restaurant. Can I ask why you’re stealing from me?”
Gavin didn’t have an answer. And he didn’t think “because stealing is fun” was one Eddie would accept. So instead, he simply stood there like moron.
Eddie took one more step forward, his hand still outstretched. He nodded at his hand and finally Gavin was forced to put the case of beer down and shake the man’s hand.
“Now,” Eddie started, “seems to me a boy has too much time on his hands if he’s slipping into the back of restaurants stealing shit. Do you have a job?”
Gavin shook his head.
Eddie pulled his hand away and slapped Gavin on the back, guiding him deeper into the kitchen. “You do now. We need a busboy. You know how to clear a table and wipe it clean?”
Gavin nodded.
“Good.” Eddie grabbed a white apron off a hook and shoved it into Gavin’s hands. “Put that on and head out front. There are three tables that need clearing. You have any questions, you ask me or Hettie, got it?”
Before Gavin had a chance to answer, he was pushed through turquoise saloon doors and out into a Puerto Rican restaurant, salsa music playing while the mouthwatering smell of cumin and cayenne filled his senses.
Those same familiar smells hit him again just now as he rejoined the present. Soft Latin music played in the background, and the decadent aroma of cumin and cayenne, chili and garlic, cilantro and lime made his entire mouth fill with water and his stomach grumble. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and that had consisted of a protein shake in the car on the way to the airport. He was famished.
Making his way over to the buffet table, he began to build a plate. God, he loved the food here. No matter where he went in New York, he couldn’t find anybody that made an empanada like Eddie did. He piled three onto his plate, along with refried beans, guacamole, chips, salsa, and a heaping spoonful of arroz con gandules y lechón. Fuck, it’d been ages since he’d had Eddie’s arroz con gandules y lechón. He added one more scoop for good measure.
He tucked a beer from the ice bucket under his arm, grabbed a napkin and fork, then headed off to find an empty seat. If he was going to win back the girl of his dreams, it was best done on a full stomach, and Eddie’s beef turnovers and yellow rice and pigeon peas with roasted pork was a great way to start.
Chapter 3
Heather
What the fuck was he still doing here? She thought for sure Gavin would stay for the minister’s sermon, and the stories, but she didn’t expect him to stick around and eat. And holy fuck, was he eating. She was busy chatting with her friend Amber from the gym, but from where she sat, she had a perfect view of Gavin. Alone, at a table built for six, he inhaled his food as if he hadn’t eaten in days, if not weeks. A small smile tickled her lips. He hadn’t changed. He’d always been a big eater. The first time her parents invited him over for dinner, he’d surp
rised the hell out of them as he put away three burgers in one sitting, then had room for watermelon and a piece of Key lime pie. Her dad used to say Gavin had a hollow leg.
Maybe he was just happy to finally be eating her father’s food again. He’d always loved the empanadas. They were her favorite, too.
Maybe you should have come back for a visit, you fucker. Wouldn’t have had to wait ten years to taste one again.
Resentment and anger percolated in her veins while she spoke with Amber. Amber and her partner, Will, had been out for dinner with Heather and her family and friends the night her dad had a heart attack. Even Will, an ER doctor, couldn’t save him in time. It meant a lot to Heather that they’d come to the service to support her. Amber was saying something about their kickboxing instructor, but Heather wasn’t listening. Her eyes were focused on the man swigging his beer across the room instead. His big hand wrapped tightly around the neck of the bottle as he tipped it up.
She said her goodbyes to Amber and Will before making her way over to the buffet table. She eyed the food, but as delicious as she knew it to be, she wasn’t hungry. Instead, she took a sip of her piña colada and hummed at the sweet, coconutty flavor with just the perfect splash of rum. Mike behind the bar knew how to mix them up right. But of course he did; Heather had taught him how.
