Praise for Riley’s Pond
“Smart, sexy, and sassy…Brooks drives home what it means to be young and in love.”
—Kelli Ann Morgan
Author of “The Rancher”
“With a colorful cast of characters, this spicy teen romance tugs at every emotion from laughter to tears, and shows the meaning of compassion, forgiveness, and unconditional love.”
—J. Cole, author
“RILEY’S POND took me down memory lane, reviving feelings of elation, angst, and the unbridled passion teenage romance is all about. The tenderness and crushing heartbreak of young love are captured perfectly in Brooks’ characters. You don’t have to be a teenager to enjoy this delightful read.”
—K. W. Green
“Brooks created characters that are vivid and believable—hard to do. Great story!”
—Tiffany Helmer
Author of “Impact”
“Harley Brooks shows teen-boy angst so accurately, she should be required reading for anyone (of any age) who wants to understand the adolescent male heart. Witty, edgy, tender and true, RILEY’S POND will draw you in and make you gasp—like plunging into a cold pool. You’ll emerge shaking tears from your eyes and envying Taylor as Riley morphs into the superhero her strength and love inspire him to be.”
—K. Kelly
“A charming and realistic read through the ventures of a teenage boy who encounters desire, love, and heartache through a journey that will make you giggle and weep. RILEY’S POND is addictive!
—S. Ovard
Riley’s Pond
a novel by
harley brooks
AMAZON KINDLE EDITION
PUBLISHED BY
Harley Brooks
Riley’s Pond © 2012 Harley Brooks
All rights reserved
Amazon Kindle Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. The ebook contained herein constitutes a copyrighted work and may not be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, or stored in or introduced into an information storage and retrieval system in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This ebook is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Editing by Joelene Coleman
Cover Design © Kelli Ann Morgan
Inspire Creative Services
www.inspirecreativeservices.com
Formatting by
Bob Houston eBook Formatting
http://about.me/BobHouston
ISBN: 978-0-9856598-0-6
About the book: Riley’s Pond
Riley Martin finds being the middle son, standing in the shadow of a wayward older brother and a "baby archangel," challenging. He feels responsible for keeping his parents happy by compensating for his older brother’s bad choices, while unable to sow his own wild oats because of his impressionable younger brother. When his rebel brother, Jaxson, turns their family life upside down and Riley’s into a personal hell, he escapes to the one place he considers his private sanctuary. The pond he and Jaxson built three years earlier, spending an entire summer bonding together while damming the stream at the end of their property and creating a secret swimming hole.
However, when Riley arrives ready to break in the rope swing for the summer, he hides within the chokecherry bushes. Someone has discovered the secret hideaway and is swimming within the dark waters. Someone beautiful inside a revealing wet T-shirt, who captures Riley’s lustful heart immediately.
Taylor Wilson’s peaceful afternoon swim is interrupted when a teenage boy slides down the hill and lands on the banks of the pond. Her hopes for escaping her complicated life in Boston by spending the summer with her grandmother, take a sudden twist when she meets Riley Martin.
A steamy late night rendezvous violates Taylor's grandmother’s only rule—obey a midnight curfew. Fear of being sent back to a life she no longer wants sends Taylor on a speedy retreat, but red and blue flashing lights halt her in the middle of skid. When the sheriff advises Taylor she’s under arrest, her heart stops, especially when she finds out she’s charged with failure to give the sheriff’s son a proper goodnight kiss. Riley's secret is out.
Taylor’s, however, remains hidden and weighs heavy enough on her mind she could sink into a dark abyss and never see light again. Climbing out of Riley’s pond and into his life, Taylor realizes for the first time she can be happy, but the monster following her is far more dangerous than any mythical creature hidden in the depths of a dark lagoon.
Dedication
For Jaycee—my exuberant teenage inspiration and one of the greatest joys in my life.
“Never stop dreaming.”
Acknowledgements
First, my overwhelming gratitude to you, the readers of Riley’s Pond. You are the wind beneath my author wings and the driving force in my passion to share the romantic tales my young characters constantly shout in my head.
Second, my heartfelt thanks to Kaye Green, Sascha Ovard, and Karla Kelly, for the endless hours spent editing, reviewing, and basically holding my hand from the moment Riley’s Pond became more than a thought in passing. I could not have asked for a more dedicated support staff, or dearer friends. Your talents, inspiration, “cyber tissues,” and ability to push me forward when I tried to give up, took this from a dream to reality. I’m forever in your debt.
Third, recognition and love for a man who spent a good portion of the past two years taking a backseat to my literary love affair with my characters. Without my husband’s patience, understanding, and bank account, Riley’s Pond would still be trapped on a memory stick.
I could not have succeeded in seeing my dream to be a writer come to fruition without the support, guidance, and kick in the butt I get from my writing colleagues. Being a member of Romance Writers of America (RWA) and Society of Children’s Book Writers & Illustrators (SCBWI) has connected me with an awesome group of authors who I rely heavily on for their banter, wit in the wee hours of the morning when I can’t sleep, and expertise—many having kicked the stones away to make my path to self-publishing smoother. I love you all.
To the manufacturers of Harley Davidson motorcycles, I owe you for giving me the means to stimulate my muse, while straddling a 103 cubic inch powerhouse engine. Clad in leather, the wind in my hair and sometimes a bug between my teeth, you have made it possible for me to ride the edge of life only the brave dare drive. My imagination soars when I’m racing down the open road.
Riley
Everyone experiences one poignant moment in time they never forget. We remember where we were, what we were doing that very second, and the way our heart ached with overwhelming helplessness when it happened.
****
She emerged from the sapphire pool almost in slow motion. Her head flipped, sending her wet, golden mane arcing through the air, the thousands of water droplets sparkling in the sun like a shower of diamonds.
She turned my direction. Dark lashes glistened against pale pink cheeks and full lips still hum
med the bewitching tune that stopped my world from spinning. Her wet baby blue T-shirt clung to curves my hands longed to touch and when her delicate fingers braided into her hair, the small silver ring piercing her navel shimmered in the sunlight.
All the saliva in my mouth evaporated. My name escaped my memory and my swim shorts suddenly felt tight. I’d never seen her before, but knew immediately I didn’t want to go without seeing her ever again. Every teenage boy’s fantasy—wet and gorgeous. Swimming in my pond.
What I didn’t realize in this defining increment of time? I faced my future. No clues warned me my summer plans were about to be altered. That I could have handled. What I didn’t know, nor could have prepared for, was that in the three short months of summer my entire life would be redefined. I embarked on an unknown journey having the potential to destroy everything I believed, and possibly everyone I cared about, in its wake.
No, none of this I knew. The only thing I did know…I wanted to jump her bones.
****
One
THE NIGHTMARE
Riley
Mom’s shrill carried up the stairwell and I jerked upright, my heartbeat slamming in my ears. A kaleidoscope of red and blue flashes bounced off the walls of my bedroom. I rubbed the stubble on my chin hard, tearing apart the last sleepy cobwebs, and took in the scene out my window. Charlie’s cruiser sat crooked at the end of the driveway and Pete’s rested against the curb across the street, his light bar the brightest by far. Our neighbors, the Hendersons, had to be thrilled living across from the local sheriff.
The swirling torrent of orange lights from the wrecker truck, danced with the red and blues. When I made the connection Dad’s sheriff cruiser dangled from the wrecker, panic swamped me. The front corner of the car crumpled back to the edges of the large star on the passenger door.
Shit.
“Dad!” I yelled, rushing from my room wearing only boxer shorts.
An eerie silence permeated the empty hall. Did I dream Mom’s scream? I glanced back through my doorway, the room pulsating with color. No dream. I waited for my heart to settle back in my chest. Years of being a cop’s son taught me to “evaluate” my surroundings before freaking out, but staying calm didn’t work at the moment.
The door next to me leaned ajar, the pigsty void its occupant, my older brother, Jaxson. The disgusting smell of dirty socks and other mysterious odors attacked when I stepped inside. Such a gross waste of skin.
In the room across the hall, buried under a pile of blankets, the small lump consisting of my little brother, Dirk, lay still. The raspy sounds of a half snore confirmed his immunity to the loud commotion that had blared from downstairs.
When I passed Mom and Dad’s empty room, my panic re-ignited. The unmade bed changed everything calm, back to chaos. A nuclear bomb could be suspended over the house, and my mother would stop to make the bed before she evacuated. She never wanted a news crew with television cameras giving the world a bad impression of her housekeeping skills. However, the image would only hold until someone opened the doors to either my or Jax’s room.
The scratchy transmission of a dispatcher’s numeric response echoed from below and I padded down the stairs, not sure what to expect. My dad’s best friend and partner for as long as I could remember, Lieutenant Pete Lamb, stood in the entryway writing something on a notepad. The radio clipped to his shoulder chirped again, solving one mystery. The fact Pete didn’t race to stop me or hadn’t ventured upstairs in the first place, relaxed me a little. Still, I wanted to hide the horror waging war in my gut, edging me to a total meltdown, so I summoned my cocky attitude.
“How’s it going?” I asked casually, treating Pete as some stranger selling a magic cleaner only available from a door-to-door salesman. Nonetheless, my voice carried an edge of hysteria, but Pete’s wide smile sent relief washing through me. He didn’t notice my knees sudden wobble from delayed shock.
“Interesting underwear, boy,” he laughed, eyeing the heart-covered boxer shorts my girlfriend thought to be an appropriate Valentine’s Day gift. My mother didn’t agree, so I seldom wore them to avoid the lecture.
“Laundry day’s tomorrow.” I flipped the waistband. “Besides, Kaylee’s opinion is all I care about.”
“She likes her sweetheart in boxers sprinkled with tiny red hearts?”
“Depends . . . are the boxers on or off?” I answered, shutting him down. I licked my finger and drew an imaginary, shaky #1 in the air. “One for the ‘boy,’ zero for the ‘Copper’.” His middle finger gave me a pointed salute. “Nice. Way to corrupt the impressionable minor,” I smirked.
“You impressionable? That’s a crock.”
I swallowed the lump in the back of my throat, ready to ask the ultimate question. “Where’s my dad?”
“In the kitchen.”
The breath I held came out in a rush and I fought to keep from collapsing against a surge of dizziness. I folded, leaned on my knees and willed the wave of nausea to cease. “He’s okay?”
“Yeah. He wasn’t in the cruiser.” Pete stepped closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Riley?”
I waved him away and straightened. “I’m fine.” My brow puckered. “If Dad wasn’t in the car, then who—” The look on Pete’s face answered my question. “Shit. Jaxson?”
“Afraid so.”
“Damn! What happened? Is he hurt? Where’s Mom?”
Pete’s radio squawked again and he tipped his chin towards the dining room.
I hesitated outside the doorway. Once I crossed the threshold, I’d be sucked into the drama vortex my older brother created. Jaxson proved a magnet for trouble. When the two collided, my life became a living hell. The pressure on me to be the shining example doubled when Jax’s bad behavior threatened to embarrass our family, or corrupt my younger brother.
White glass half-moons covered the glowing bulbs on the fixture overhanging the table, the light way too bright for 3:30 A.M. The kitchen and dining area presently served as the “Martin Family Crisis Control Center.” Dad dictated authority on his phone, pacing the length of the kitchen unaware of my presence. I watched him purposely calculate each footstep to land precisely in the center of a floor tile. A perfectionist to a fault.
Charlie Adams, the owner of the other police unit flashing out front, engaged in a conversation with the tow truck driver as where to take Dad’s wrecked cruiser. They paused and while neither said anything, Charlie’s eyes checked off my shorts and the hint of a smile pulled a corner of his mouth.
“Riley.”
“Charlie.”
Mom bustled in from the laundry room and dropped a pile of freshly dried towels onto the dining room table. The smell of fabric softener overpowered the aroma of fresh coffee brewing. I’d watched my mother handle many uncontrollable situations over the years and discovered she dealt best with the stress by doing something. Tonight’s project: folding laundry.
Swollen eyes and cheeks shimmered with tears, transformed her otherwise pretty face. Her cherry red nose rivaled “Rudolf’s” and wads of tissues bulged in her robe pockets. My stomach dipped.
“Mom?”
She looked up, surprised. Her bloodshot blue eyes blinked a few times and she gazed about the room as if dropped from outer space, having no idea where she landed. I walked around the table and put my arms around her. She turned into me, laying her wet face against my chest and her shoulders shook when I pulled her tighter.
“Mom, forget the laundry,” I whispered, placing a kiss on top of her snarled hair. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Dad’s choreographed steps halted when he saw me. His gaze immediately landed to my boxers. A slight shake of his head momentarily interrupted the conversation with whoever’s ear he bent. His fingers scrubbed the thinning stubble on top of his head and he resumed his pacing…one step per tile.
Mom guided me to the sofa in the small sitting area off the kitchen. Her voice trembled. “It’s Jaxson.”
“Duh. Isn’t it always Jax?
” I huffed. She pressed a finger to my lips to stop me before I started one of my Jaxson rants. “Where is he?”
“The hospital.”
“The hospital? Crap. How bad? Why aren’t you there?” I asked feeling a niggle of fear at her possible answer.
“Your father wanted to tell me in person and take me himself. It’s nothing life threatening, but still, having one of my boys hurt—”
Suddenly, Dad hovered over us, his expression mixed with anger and angst. “Bev, get dressed. We need to go. Jax will be out of surgery soon and I want to make sure my face is the first thing he sees when his eyes open. I’d like to kick his sorry ass to the moon,” he grumbled walking away. “Bev! Now!” he yelled from the stairwell.
My little brother had to be in a coma if not awakened by Dad’s loud demand.
“I’ll call you with details from the hospital. Take care of Dirk, and make sure you’re both out the door in time for school.” She paused at the banister, giving me a no-nonsense glare. “You told me you got rid of those boxers, Riley. Cheeky girl.” I opened my mouth to argue, but she’d already quickened her pace before Dad yelled again.
**
I never officially went back to bed. Instead, I curled under a lap quilt and settled in Dad’s recliner in a dark corner of the sitting room. I played dead and listened to Pete and Charlie’s hushed conversation as they wrote their report. The gist of what happened, involved Jaxson getting drunk at some party—a favorite pastime, and stealing Dad’s cop car. What an idiot. However, the title needed clarification as to who officially had earned it.
Dad apparently left his keys in the ignition and the doors unlocked. He’d taken over a graveyard patrol shift because one of his deputies called in sick, and stopped by the house to use the bathroom. He only planned to take a minute, figuring no sane person would be out at one o’clock in the morning on a weeknight. Especially in the boondocks where we lived. He was right. No sane person lurked—just his insane offspring. His pride and joy and the neighborhood embarrassment, Jaxson Martin, my dad’s favorite jailbird and eldest son.
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