All That I Am (Men of Monroe Book 1)

by Rachel Brookes

  All That I Am

  #1, Men of Monroe

  Rachel Brookes

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Epilogue

  Next Stop in Monroe….

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Rachel Brookes

  Copyright © 2017 by Rachel Brookes

  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.

  Cover Photo: Sara Eirew Photography

  Cover Design: Wicked By Design

  Editing & Proofreading: Ellie McLove (Love N Books) & Jennifer Sell

  Prologue

  SASHA

  “Mom! I’m home.”

  Summer break had arrived, and all I could think about was lying out with Missy, shopping trips into the city with Mom, and spending Sundays dancing and causing underage havoc at my family’s bar, Hamilton’s.

  I shrugged off my bag, dropped it on the couch, and then strolled through the house, listening for any signs of where my mom was.

  As soon as I walked into the kitchen, I stopped. The familiar aroma of chocolate didn’t greet me, and my mom’s perfume didn’t linger in the air. I turned around quickly and looked to the counter where a fresh plate of brownies always sat on Friday afternoons. But today, for the first time, there was nothing.

  I left the kitchen and searched the house.

  Living room. Empty.

  Dining room. Empty.

  Bathroom. Empty.

  Everywhere. Empty.

  I began to panic. After school, I never arrived home to an empty house. Mom made it very clear that she’d always be here when Drew and I got home. For as long as I could remember, she’d told us that her favorite thing about being a mom was being able to be home for us.

  Now she wasn’t here.

  “Sasha.”

  I jumped at Dad’s voice calling my name behind me. I turned quickly, smiling, expecting to find Dad and Mom together. As soon as I saw him on his own, my smile fell. He stood in the foyer with his arms folded across his chest, and he didn’t look like my Dad. He looked like a shadow of himself. His eyes would always twinkle when he looked at me, but now they showed nothing but sadness.

  “Where’s mom?” I asked as my heart raced.

  “Come here, Sash,” Dad said low, his voice cracking.

  Hesitantly, I moved toward him. When I was within reach, his hand shot out and grabbed mine and I was pulled toward him.

  “Dad, what’s going on?”

  We moved through the house in silence. Every step I took, my anxiety soared and my confusion grew. What was going on? Dad held open the back door, and I stepped out onto the porch. Drew leaned against the railing, looking out over the yard, but turned when he heard us arrive. His face was as blank as Dad’s.

  I took a seat on the porch swing and held one of the yellow cushions Mom and I had purchased during one of our epic shopping trips close to my chest. “Where’s mom?” I asked softly. “What’s going on?”

  If it were anyone else, including Dad, I would have thought he was at the store or at work, but not Mom. She was always here. Our family had traditions. Friday’s were our time.

  Dad, Mom, Drew, and me.

  “I love you more than anything, Sasha,” Dad said, his voice strangled with emotion and his eyes shimmering with tears. He sucked in a deep breath before saying the words that would forever change my life. “She’s gone, baby girl. She left.”

  Gone.

  Left.

  His words hit me hard.

  My throat closed as his words sunk in. The tormented look shadowing his face didn’t lie, but I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to believe there was some kind of mistake, but why would my Dad lie to me about something like this? Gone and left were final. There was no mistaking what they meant.

  “Baby girl, did you hear me?”

  “What do you mean she’s gone?” I stammered, as the first tear fell over my cheek.

  Dad wrapped his arms around me and hauled me against his chest. The usual comfort his arms provided had no chance of healing the hurt spiraling through me.

  There was no way she’d leave. Why would she have told me this morning that she breathed for us? That her heart beat for us. My mother was everything I dreamt of becoming, and now I was being told she was gone?

  “This can’t be real.” I shook my head. “There has to be a mistake.” My voice became more frantic and louder with every word. “How do you even know she’s gone? Maybe she’s just at the store. Or popped into work.”

  I was clutching onto anything that would lessen the pain tearing through me.

  “She isn’t at the store.” Dad spoke softly. “She isn’t at Hamilton’s either.”

  I tore myself away from Dad and ran back inside. I had to see for myself. I went into every room and found nothing. I hesitated outside my parent’s room and then slowly entered. The dresser was bare. Mom's jewelry was gone, her favorite perfume gone, her lipstick gone. I stumbled into the closest and was smacked in the face with a brutal reality. Mom’s clothes, shoes, and her suitcase were gone.

  Nothing was left.

  Everything was gone.

  Feeling numb, I walked into my room and lay on my bed. I buried my face in my pillow as the first sob left my chest. Tears saturated my pillow, and my chest ached from trying to catch my breath.

  As I pulled the pillow closer, the crinkle of paper sounded. With shaking hands, I pulled out a folded piece of paper from beneath my pillow and held my breath as I saw my mom’s familiar handwriting. I inhaled sharply and unfolded it.

  Baby girl,

  Please never forget how much I love you. You will always be in my heart, and every breath I take is for you.

  Forgive me,

  Mom x

  The words became blurry as fresh tears hit my eyes. Why would she do this? My mother chose to leave me? Why wasn’t I enough? My chest screamed at me. The pain was excruciating, and I felt like my heart was going to stop.

  I didn’t hear my bedroom door open and didn’t know anyone was in my room until I felt my bed dip beside me.

  “Squirt, come here,” Drew whispered as he grabbed my hand and pulled me against his body.

  I went willingly to him and crashed against his chest. His arms
circled me, and I cried against his shirt, soaking the cotton with hot, heartbreaking tears.

  “How could she do this?” I choked out through another wave of tears. “What did we do wrong?”

  “We did nothing. You did nothing wrong.” The strength in his voice made me look up at him. “We are the Hamilton kids. We will get through this. I promise you, Sasha.”

  My brother. My protector.

  “I’ll never let anything or anyone hurt you again. You have my word and my protection for life.”

  I believed him.

  I had to believe him.

  1

  SASHA

  “Why are there no single men in this town?” I complained, raising a brow at my best friend, Missy. I took the shot of god-only-knows-what then slammed the empty shot glass back on the polished oak bar in front of me. “Seriously, are we in a dick drought?”

  I should have known that third Appletini was a mistake.

  I definitely should have known not to accept that second shot Andy slid in front of me with a wink.

  It was somewhere between that Appletini and the shot that my filter decided to strut out of Hamilton’s and the need to discuss my lack of a sex life strutted right on in.

  After a crazy day at my home decor store, Sass, I’d called Missy, and girls night had been relocated from my house to Hamilton’s, my family’s bar, and now I was enjoying a vodka-infused buzz, a belly full of pizza, and girl talk.

  Tonight it was also the place to discuss our sex lives.

  And in my case, the lack thereof.

  Missy’s whole body shook as she burst out laughing beside me. Her loud, throaty chuckle echoed around the bar, and I started to giggle along with her. Missy and I were known around Monroe as the sassy blonde and crazy red head. Missy owned the local diner, and we were located on either side of Main Street. Feisty, loud, and energetic—that's how you'd describe Missy Jenkins. We'd been best friends since we were six, and there was no Sasha without Missy, or vice-versa. We'd spent our childhood playing with dolls, pretending we were princesses, and dreaming of fairies. When we hit our teens, it was all about boys, makeup, and wishing we could grow up. Then we became adults, and girl’s nights out, cocktails, men, and living life to the fullest became our priority.

  “There is plenty of single dick in Monroe. It’s just not the kind of dick that is up to your standard.” Missy snickered as she clinked her glass with mine, before tipping her head back and finishing the rest of her Gin and Tonic. “Plus, aren’t you getting it on the regular from Danny?”

  I, Sasha Hamilton, was a hot-blooded woman who loved every sweaty, delightful, heart-thumping moment of sex. The problem was I wasn't getting that. What I got was the occasional night of missionary with Danny, my college ex-boyfriend, when he came through town on business. But there was only so much missionary a girl could take when all she wanted was earth-shattering sex with no commitment.

  “What are we talking about?”

  My gaze darted from Missy to Shelley Johnson, one of the newest members of Hamilton’s, and also a recent inductee into girl’s night. A week after starting as day manager, we initiated her, after bonding over our mutual love of shoes, cocktails, and spontaneous girl’s trips.

  “Sasha is discussing the lack of dick in Monroe," Missy answered and nodded at Shelley when she lifted the bottle of gin. “Make it a double, Shells. I’m feeling feisty tonight.”

  “Have you thought of online dating?” Shelley asked, her voice serious as she began pouring Missy’s drink.

  I smirked, then shook my head.

  Then I waited.

  One.

  Two.

  Thr—

  Missy lost it, and her boisterous laugh surrounded us. “Oh . . . My . . . Fuck.”

  Her reaction to the thought of me online dating wasn't surprising. Some days I swear she knew me better than I knew myself. The facts were there. I didn’t date. I didn’t do relationships of any kind, and I certainly didn’t do online dating. It had been three years since my last, and let’s be honest, disastrous attempt at a relationship. It lasted two months. The man in question couldn’t handle the fact that I owned a successful business, had a healthy savings account, and was self-sufficient. He had called Sass a hobby, and he wanted dinner, which I was to cook, on the table at six p.m. every night. I politely told him it was no longer the 1950s, aprons didn’t look good on me, and six p.m. didn’t work for my schedule. He thought I was joking. The next day he brought me a freaking apron. Yes, an apron, with frills and my name embroidered on it. Oh, and he informed me he was okay with dinner being at six-thirty. Let’s just say my politeness died. I threw the apron at him, told him he could jam his dinners up his ass, and that I was going to enjoy earning the big bucks at my not-a-hobby store.

  From then on, I began a long-term commitment with Vinnie the vibrator, participated in the occasional one-night-stand when I needed a break from Vinnie, and it cemented my decision that relationships just weren’t for me.

  “Oh my god. I cannot handle this,” Missy said, gasping for air and wiping dramatically under her eyes. “Imagine the dick you’d find on there.”

  “Christ, are you girls talking about dick again?"

  I swung around on my stool, a little too eagerly, at the sound of the highly amused yet sexy voice electrifying the space behind me.

  The voice belonged to Andy Smith.

  Okay, maybe there was some single dick in Monroe; however, this was single dick I couldn’t touch.

  Being co-owner of Hamilton’s meant I was his boss.

  Six months ago Andy joined the staff at Hamilton's, and from the first time I met him, I knew he was a danger to all women, whether they were single, married, straight, or lesbian. He was rugged, tattooed, and utterly delightful on the eyes, and he had the confidence to match. One minute in his presence and he had you questioning your beliefs, morals, and sexuality within seconds.

  I’d nicknamed him Randy Andy, after Missy and I came in for drinks and he spent the majority of the night unashamedly flirting with us, then in the next breath he was smooth talking the head cheerleader of the Monroe University Football Team. An hour later, he winked at me as he walked her out to her car, and half an hour later, he returned with lipstick on his collar, disheveled hair, and the just-got-laid look plastered all over his face. He gave me a high-five, and from that moment I never called him Andrew again.

  “And who the fuck is Danny?” he asked, his eyes locked onto me as he opened the latch and moved in behind the bar.

  “He’s Sasha’s bit on the side,” Missy piped up, and Andy’s gaze jumped to her. “You would have seen him in here. Preppy-looking guy, blonde hair, orders the beer no one can pronounce, and eye-fucks Sasha whenever she's around.”

  Andy chuckled. “News flash, Miss, most guys eye-fuck Sash when she’s around.”

  Choosing to ignore that bit of knowledge he gifted me, I faux glared at Missy, before turning back to him.

  “He is not my bit on the side. He’s just . . . available at times.” God, could I sound any more like a hussy? “But let me tell you, I’m getting sick of PPGD.”

  Perplexed, Andy stared at me and waited for an explanation.

  “Pump, pump, grunt, done—a.k.a. the PPGD. The kind of sex that leaves me a quarter of the way to an orgasm with a man lying on top of me and breathing heavily, like he just ran the Boston Marathon in record time.”

  I really needed to stop drinking Appletinis.

  “That’s bullshit. Why do you put up with it? Babe, you could get any man you wanted, and if he were any kind of man, he wouldn’t leave you unsatisfied. You sure this Danny guy doesn’t bat for the other team, because Sash, a man should be making you scream before he even thinks of getting off.”

  Woah.

  “Andy, we should hook up,” Missy suggested in a breathy tone that came out more like a pant. “Sasha won’t jump in your bed, but I’m sure I could be persuaded.”

  The side of his mouth lifted into a smirk as
his eyes roamed over her face and down to her chest. “Missy, do you really think you could handle me?”

  “Believe me, I would give it a red hot go.”

  Andy shook his head, amusement flashing in his eyes. “Ladies, someone has to work around here, so I’m getting back to it. Please try and refrain from the dick talk when I’m around next time, otherwise I’ll start talking about pussy.”

  He stepped out from behind the bar, grabbed a dishtowel, and disappeared into the crowd. Missy, Shelley, and I watched his every move like a bunch of schoolgirls perving on the star quarterback.

  “I am willing to take one for the team, ladies. I would ride him so hard that I’d be walking funny for days,” Missy declared, her voice breathy and low.

  My best friend clearly meant serious business.

  This was my life.

  The perfect life I’d spent the past thirteen years working hard to call my own. I was forced to grow up quickly. I had no choice. It was never a decision I had the privilege of making. Since I was fifteen, I’d been clawing my way to create the life I now lived.

  I kept the people I loved close to me, and I very rarely opened myself to anyone new.

  It was protection at its finest.

  My need to protect my already fragile heart was astronomical.

  I knew that opening my heart to anything that wasn’t innocent could destroy me, and to be honest, I feared one more crack would shatter it forever.

  It was a risk I wasn’t willing to take.

  Crossing the dance floor, I smiled at a few locals and made small talk to those who stopped me. Being third generation Hamilton, owner of the only home decor store in town and part owner of the local watering hole, meant people knew me. It was both a blessing and a curse. When you were going through the worst time of your life, everyone wanted to know the ins and outs of your business. But then when you were experiencing the joys of life-changing moments, those same people cheered and celebrated right alongside you.

  That was Monroe—the place that had small town vibes but big city dreams.