Table of Contents
Linden
The Coral Gables Series
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
Dear readers,
Rights and Other Boring Stuff
Linden
Rocking Pleasure
Drucie Anne Taylor
Copyright © 2014 Drucie Anne Taylor
Translation © Claudia Rapp
Edited by Annie Cosby
Layout: Ann Cosby / Drucie Anne Taylor
Cover design by © Art for your book/Sabrina Dahlenburg using
several motifs of: © Valua Vitaly & © Kamira (bigstockphoto.com)
Manufacturing and Publishing: Createspace
ISBN-13: 978-1519223753
ISBN-10: 1519223757
Contact: [email protected]
http://drucieannetaylor.de
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual living or dead, businesses, organizations, events or locales is entirely
coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without my written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
If you would like to know more about me, feel free to visit me on Facebook.
https://www.facebook.com/authordrucietaylor/
First published in German in May 2014 as
'Priest: Prickelndes Begehren'
The Coral Gables Series
The Coral Gables series follows the scintillating love stories that blossom among a group of friends in Florida. Though characters reappear, each book acts as a stand-alone.
And while there is a real town of that name south of Miami, the Coral Gables I describe exists only in my imagination—and those of my readers.
Other books in this series:
Rough: Daunting Temptation
Avery: Sensual Desire
Chapter 1
Swearing, I hit the damn steering wheel of my Mercedes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” I’m rattled, exhausted, and angry, all at the same time. My friends are all blissfully in love—Camille has Delsin, Hailey has Logan, and Avery has Dahlia. Which is great for them. Not for me. It’s no fun, going out by myself most nights, hanging out alone at parties and clubs. I don’t want to do that anymore, even though I literally just turned twenty-one.
Yep, my birthday party ended one and a half hours ago—at three a.m. We used to party till sunrise. But that was last year. Ever since my best friends started getting serious in love, excessive partying has stopped being a thing. It’s annoying. And because I have to drive tonight, I couldn’t even drink for my birthday.
The more I think about it, the more I realize this birthday party was a disaster. I wanted to celebrate, go wild, and also make up with Colton. But the jerk had the nerve to show up with Pearl, of all people, and she just threw me one deprecating glance after another. Plus, my friends lured me into new territory, aka the boondocks. I’ve never before been to this part of Miami before, and believe me, I’ve been around town quite a bit, when I was … let’s just say out and about.
I’ll admit I’ve been a good-time girl for a while and living it up was definitely at the top of my college agenda. I mean meeting boys, drinking, partying—the things young people do, right? But in the last half year, since Ave and Dale got back together, nothing much has happened in that arena. They’re often doing couple things with Delsin and Cami, and Hailey and Logan are still in their honeymoon phase, so I’m either the fifth wheel … or I fall by the wayside.
My eyes are on the deserted road when I notice a man dragging himself slowly along the curb. “Fuck. What is that guy doing?” I ask myself aloud. Should I stop or pass him? He looks injured.
With a sigh, I slow down and steer closer, rolling down the window. “Hey. Sorry. Hey!” I yell, so he notices me. He seems zoned out.
But then he glances over and makes his way to the window. “Are you talking to me?”
I nod. “Yeah. Are you all right? Can I give you a lift into town?” Then I notice his hand is bleeding. “Or take you to a doctor?” I add, pointing to his injury.
“Would you?” he asks, sounding very tired.
“No, I want you to get in my car so I can throw you out again in about a hundred yards,” I say sarcastically. “Deal?” He doesn’t look menacing or dangerous, otherwise I wouldn’t have offered him a ride. On the other hand, these people never look dangerous, do they? Uh-oh. I heave another sigh. “Listen. Tonight made it into the top five of craptastic birthdays. So if you want a ride, you better get in now.” I lean across to open the passenger door, and then I throw my handbag onto the backseat. It’s rather naïve to pick up a total stranger in the middle of the night, but he is injured, and I don’t want him to sue me for denial of assistance or something.
He gets in, and close up I can see his features much more clearly. He isn’t as old as I had assumed from his shuffling gait. He might be around my age even. His hair is blond, and his eyes are green, almost turquoise. He looks awfully familiar.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
He looks at me as if I’d asked for his debit card PIN. “I don’t remember,” he says faintly.
My eyebrows shoot up. “Buckle up. What do you remember?”
“I woke up in the ditch a few hundred yards back there,” he explains while pulling at the seatbelt. “So I started walking in the hope that someone would drive by and stop.”
“And that’s all?” I prod, perplexed how someone could wake up in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere and not remember who they are.
“I was at some party.”
“When was that?”
“What’s today’s date?” he asks, sounding rather exhausted.
“June thirteenth,” I reply.
“Then my memories are a week old.”
“We should get you to the hospital as quickly as possible,” I decide, stepping on the gas and putting Jackson Memorial in the GPS. That’s the hospital I know best, because it’s affiliated with the college’s Leonard M. Miller School of Medicine. I drive a little faster than the street signs allow, because I’m worried he has more injuries than the one on his hand. “Does it hurt anywhere?”
“It’s just my hand that’s bugging me,” he replies.
“Man,” I murmur. “Do you happen to have a wallet or something in one of your pockets? Maybe there’s an ID in there. That would simplify things at the hospital, you know?”
“No. I didn’t find anything,” he says. “What’s your name?”
“Thalia.”
“You were named after the muse of comedy?” he inquires with a smirk.
“So you remember stuff like that, but you don’t know what you did this week? That’s strange.” But I have to smile anyway. “And, actually, Thalia was a goddess of beauty.” I giggle, trying to lighten the mood.
“You’re cute when you laugh.”
“Whoa. Hold your horses, o
kay? I don’t even know whether or not you’re some kind of maniac who hurt himself killing teenagers for sport.”
“I don’t think I did,” he counters. “You’re the only person I’ve seen, and I won’t murder my ride while I can’t drive.”
“You have a point there.” I laugh.
Suddenly my phone rings in its dashboard holder. “Sorry, I need to take that, or it’ll keep ringing.” He nods, and I pick up the phone. “Irritated birthday girl here, what can I do for you?”
“Oh, fuck,” Cami’s voice answers. “Was it really that bad?” She sounds a little sad for me.
“No,” I sigh. “Just … seeing Colton with that bitch kind of dragged me down.”
I can hear her relief in the way she breathes out. “I wanted to see if you made it home yet. You left more than an hour ago.”
“Nope,” I say. “You know I’m the only girl in the world that manages to get lost despite using a GPS.” Mystery Man chuckles next to me.
“What was that?” Cami asks.
“Just a hitchhiker I’m driving to the hospital. He hurt his hand.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Cami says, sounding outraged now. “You can’t pick up strangers in the middle of the night!”
“No, I’m not, and yes, I can. His hand is bleeding, Cami. And he doesn’t seem to be a madman, so calm down, okay? I’ll call you as soon as I’ve delivered him to urgent care.” I glance at my GPS. “Which should be in about forty-five minutes.”
“Oh my God, oh my God,” she answers.
“Don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry?” she snaps. “Of course I’m going to worry! Some strange guy is sitting in your car!”
“Just let me be my Girl Scout self and do a good deed, okay? I’ll call you later. Love you, bye.” I hang up quickly, because I’m not in the mood for discussing this with Cami right now.
“Any problems?” Mystery Man asks.
“Just my best friend asking if I made it home safely.”
“She thinks I might want to kill you,” he states.
“You heard her, Sherlock.” I grin.
“Sorry for listening in.”
“There are worse things … So what were you doing before you stumbled into that ditch?” I ask, because we still have forty-five minutes ahead of us. Or maybe forty now.
“I was at a gig with my band.”
“Your band? Are you a singer?”
“Yeah. Singer and lead guitarist,” he replies slowly.
“Exciting. Where was the gig?”
“Uh, we’ve been around quite a bit … My head hurts like hell. Mind if I open this window?” he asks.
“Sure. Go ahead.”
He presses the button, and my car is filled with crisp night air. I shiver, because all I’m wearing is a pink-and-white summery dress, and my hair is up in a ponytail. My hair has been unmanageable since my bob has grown out. I just haven’t had time for a visit to the salon. I’ve been too busy studying hard … to make up for before. Yeah, I let it slip for too long, and then I failed two exams, and my parents flipped out when I told them over the phone. Now I need to ace the current semester, otherwise I won’t get the credits I need for the next one.
“We should be there in a bit,” I say, pushing back those thoughts and glancing at the GPS again. It’s no use thinking about it now; it will only make me anxious.
“Okay,” he says.
“Do you have anyone you can call?” I ask. “Someone who could come pick you up from the hospital?”
He scratches his forehead, but then recites a phone number.
“Whose is that?”
“I think he’s my best buddy.”
“Okay.” I type the numbers into my phone and then press the green call button.
“Kingston.” A man’s deep voice answers, sounding less than thrilled about being called at this time of night.
“Hi. My name is Thalia Leroux,” I explain. “I think I just picked your best friend up on the side of the road, and he gave me your number so I could inform you. I’m taking him to the hospital, because he’s injured.”
“You found Linden?”
“Yes, if that’s his name. He doesn’t remember. Maybe he got hit on the head. He says he’s forgotten an entire week. Could you come to Jackson Memorial Hospital and take care of him?”
“And where in the world is that?” Mr. Kingston asks.
“Uh, in the Civic Center? In Miami. You’ve never heard of it?” I ask, confused.
“Afraid not. I’m not from Florida. And I’m in New York right now, honey. The earliest I can get there is some time tomorrow. Could you keep me posted on how he’s doing?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Fuck! This guy’s sitting in New York City, and I’m stuck with John Doe. Well, Linden Doe, it seems.
“Thank you. Can I call you when I arrive in Miami? I’ll be on my way.”
“Sure, no problem,” I say before thinking it through. I was just going to drop this guy off at the ER, but now I’ve committed to staying with him. “I’ll text you the hospital address.”
“Great. See you soon.” He hangs up before I can add anything.
I heave a sigh.
“Kingston … ” Mystery Man tries the name on his tongue. So his name is Linden. An unfamiliar name, and one I’ve never heard before … No, wait. One of the actors on Teen Wolf is named Linden. Which reminds me. I should start watching that show again.
“That’s his name.” I nod.
“But he didn’t give you a first name,” Linden muses.
“True, but we’re going to find out soon enough,” I reply. “He said he’ll be here tomorrow.” And with that, I turn a corner into the parking lot of Jackson Memorial.
“I’ll get you inside, and then I have to say good night. I need to go to bed.”
When I look at him, Linden gives a curt nod. “Okay.”
I park the car and pull out the key. “Come on.” I get out and wait for him to do the same. Then I lock it and walk with him toward the ER entrance. “Does your hand hurt a lot?”
“It burns like fire.”
“Then I guess you’re not going to be playing the guitar any time soon,” I say, thinking about myself more than him. If I hurt my hand, my hobby would be history. I make music, too, and I love to sing, but I haven’t spent much time on them recently.
“Fuck,” he curses. “I’ll be out of work for a while, too.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because, as far as I remember—and the memory is blurry at best—I need my hands to be able to work.”
“Oh, that is rather craptastic,” I agree.
When we reach the admittance desk, Linden looks at me. “How am I supposed to get help here if I don’t know anything but my first name?”
I sigh. “Maybe we should call your friend again.”
He nods. “Okay.”
“Good morning,” the woman behind the desk says. “How can I help you?”
“My friend here is injured and needs to be looked at,” I tell her.
She hands me a clipboard with a registration form. “Fill this out, and then we’ll call you in.”
“His hand is bleeding, you know. There are open wounds. He needs to be looked at right now,” I insist.
“Lady, we’re busy,” she answers gruffly. “I can’t speed up the process, and you need to fill out this form first, anyway.”
I raise both eyebrows and lift my chin. “All right. But don’t complain when I come back to thank you in person after my friend bleeds to death, lady.” I turn away and nod in the direction of the waiting area, indicating that Linden should follow me there.
“You’re rather tough,” he states.
“Of course I am. I constantly have to stand my ground in a circle of friends who have all morphed into lovebirds. I have to be tough.”
“Oh.”
We sit down, and I pull out my phone. “I’m going to call your pal again so he can tell me all the details for this form.�
��
“I can do the writing.”
“Are you right-handed?” I ask.
“Yeah, why?”
I point at his blood-smeared hand. “Are you sure you can write with that?”
Linden blushes. “Oh.”
I call back the last number dialed and wait to hear Mr. Kingston’s voice again.
“Yes?” he rumbles into the phone.
“Hello, Mr. Kingston, it’s Thalia Leroux again. I need your help.”
“With what?” he demands.
“I have to fill out the registration form here in the ER, but I only know your friend’s first name. Could you maybe tell me his last name, and his blood type, and all that?”
Kingston sighs. “His full name is Linden Julian Priest. His birthday is March eighteenth. He’s twenty-three, and I think his blood type is O positive, but I’m really not sure about that last one.”
“And his health insurance?”
“Blue Cross,” he says.
“Privately or via his employer?” I go on.
Kingston laughs. “Privately. You have no idea who he is, do you?”
“Now I do. Linden Julian Priest, born twenty-three years ago in March, ended up in my car with an injured hand on June thirteenth,” I recite, filling out the form at the same time.
“Never mind, Miss Leroux,” Kingston says with what sounds like a smirk in his voice.
“Thanks for helping me out. I’ll name you as the contact person, if that’s okay with you.”
“Sure. My name is Alexis Kingston.”
“Alexis is a woman’s name,” I blurt automatically.
“It’s not a woman’s name; it’s unisex,” he replies, sounding a little irritated now.
Now it’s my turn to giggle a little. Men are easy to annoy. “All right, Alexis,” I say with extra stress on his name. “Thank you. See you soon.”
“See you, Thalia, muse of comedy,” he adds quickly before hanging up.
Asshole! my inner voice yells, but I’m half amused by his repartee. How come everyone remembers the part about Thalia being a muse, but not the goddess of beauty bit? Jerks. I switch my phone to flight mode so I don’t kill any pacemaker patients by accident. You’re supposed to turn it off in a hospital anyway.
“Were you able to get all the necessary info?” Linden asks shyly.
Linden: Rocking Pleasure: New Adult College Romance (Coral Gables Series Book 3) Page 1
