by Kait Nolan
She spied an envelope in the seat of the nice, shiny new office chair. Tears pricked her eyes as she retrieved it.
Dear Cecily,
Happy closing day! We’re so excited you’ve decided to stay and make your home here. You’ve been an enormous boon to us so we wanted to leave you a little welcome to get you started. Best of luck with your new business.
Norah, Cam, Christoff, Daniel, Beth, and Parker
“I’m going to cry,” she said.
“Hold off on that one more minute,” Reed told her. “I’ve got my own contribution.” He reached behind the bookcase and pulled out a large frame. The Superman crest with a giant emblazoned C, painted in vintage comicbook style. “In case you ever start to doubt yourself.”
On a watery laugh, Cecily threw her arms around his neck. “It’s wonderful. You’re wonderful.” She rained kisses over his face.
Reed’s arms tightened around her and he tipped his mouth down to hers. “Welcome to Wishful.”
A Note From Kait
Hey sugar! Thanks for reading. I hope you’ve enjoyed this glimpse into the small town life in Wishful. If you dug the story, please consider leaving a review! Each and every one helps more than you can know. If you’d like to see more of Wishful, you can get Book1 (Norah and Cam’s story), To Get Me To You for FREE, wherever ebooks are sold. And because I love free books (I cannot lie), you can also nab a FREE copy of Book 2, Be Careful, It’s My Heart (Tyler and Brody’s story—remember that conversation Cecily overheard in the coffee shop?) from my website.
About Kait
Kait Nolan is stuck in an office all day, sometimes juggling all three of her jobs at once with the skill of a trained bear—sometimes with a similar temperament. After hours, she uses her powers for good, creating escapist fiction. This Mississippi native has something for everyone, from short and sweet to Southern contemporary romance to action-packed paranormal—all featuring heroes you’d want to sweep you off your feet and rescue you from work-day drudgery. When not working or writing, Kait’s hanging out in her kitchen cooking and wishing life were a Broadway musical. You can catch up with her at her website http://kaitnolan.com, Twitter @kaitnolan, or on Facebook http://facebook.com/kaitnolanwriter
Lip Service
By Wendy Sparrow
Heat Level: 1 Flame
Written and published by Wendy Sparrow
Copyright 2016 Wendy Sparrow
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: The following is a work of fiction. All people, places, and events are purely products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is entirely coincidental.
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The 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 person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
To my dad and all others who serve or have served their country with honor.
Chapter One
“Are you allowed to slug back energy drinks with those meds you just took?” Christian asked, snorting and shaking his head.
Berg looked down at the energy drink on his desk, which was visible through his webcam. He slid it out of his friend’s sight. “The pills are for my imaginary legs so I figure I can wash them back with whatever I damn well please.”
Chris’s eyes narrowed. “Are the new bionic legs more uncomfortable?”
He wiped a tired hand down his face. “No. They’re not my legs, but they’re not bad. It’s strange to have them respond like there are muscles and tendons controlling them. I’d gotten used to compensating so that’s been a change. The socket fit is different enough that it’s aggravating the nerves so that damn phantom limb pain has made a reappearance.” He shrugged. “I doubt I’ll be on the meds like I was at first. Maybe a few days is all. Then, I’ll lay off the good stuff, and stop trying to get rid of the cramps in my metal ankles.” He took a big defiant gulp of his drink just so Chris would roll his eyes. “I’ll adjust, and Rod lost more than his legs when he was downrange so I should suck it up and drive on. I’m not even AK. I never thought I’d be so grateful to have knees.”
“Knees are awesome.”
“I love knees.” He stretched one leg. “I wouldn’t mind having ankles again, though.”
“Now, you’re just being greedy.”
They both grinned.
“So, what’s the problem? You’ve been better every time I called lately.” Chris sat back in his computer chair, making it squeak. “Man, you know if I could do things differently that day…”
“Don’t go there, Chris. Rod and I don’t blame you. You know that. It was bad intel and that was another life, right? We’ve all moved on with Uncle Sam’s blessing.”
His friend huffed a sigh and frowned, dropping into that brooding silence that had triggered the end of his last deployment. Chris could be lost in that dark spell for minutes or hours or days. Rod lost both legs and a hand; Berg had lost his lower legs; and Christian had lost his mind. He didn’t want to contribute to his friend’s ugly version of survivor guilt so he searched for a subject change to get him off it. Hell, why not the truth?
“I have a new neighbor.”
Christian blinked and he was back. “On the other side of the duplex?”
Berg nodded. “Moved in over the weekend.”
Christian grinned. “That’s what has you tied up in knots.”
Blandly, Berg took another drink and faked detachment. It was worse than tied up in knots. He’d had a dream about her last night that had been as uncomfortable as his usual ones about Rod setting off the IED right next to him. That sundress she’d been wearing yesterday would be good for a whole week of dreams that had him sweating and moaning for a whole different reason than normal.
“So, either your new neighbor is a miserable bastard or she’s a pretty young thing that has you wanting to strap on your bionic legs and go dancing.” Chris’s smile widened.
Obviously, he’d guessed which it was. It was a shame she hadn’t moved in next to Christian. Christian looked like every girl’s dream for the boy-next-door. He even had that whole all-American look to him. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Quarterback turned decorated soldier. Not to mention he had all his limbs.
Hell, that wasn’t fair. Chris had his own problems. They all did.
Still… Given the choice between Christian’s model handsomeness and Berg’s dark looks and battle-scarred body, she hadn’t won the lottery.
Not that he even knew if she was single. She wasn’t wearing a ring, and it was only her next door, but that didn’t mean she was interested in a relationship, even if she was alone. Why was he even thinking about this? They’d barely spoken a couple of sentences when he’d helped her drag in a few boxes to be neighborly. So she hadn’t given him a look of pity when she’d noticed his prostheses and she didn’t appear repulsed. He wanted more than that from a woman. The bar shouldn’t be set that low.
“You gonna work your mutt-magic on her?” his friend asked. “Win her over with Grandma Maria’s tamales and Grandma Delia’s baklava?”
Berg smirked. “Hell, this close to the holidays I don’t dare. The only way I get away with avoiding choosing between Christmas parties and Hanukkah is that I don’t have a date.” It was a cop-out. He hadn’t wanted to get involved in family gatherings. And not only because his family couldn’t decide on a religion and his ethnicity was so mixed that meals resembled a foods-of-the-world potluck.
It was good to see Christian so amused. It’d been forever since his brother in all but blood had looked this happy. “Is your aunt still doing that whole death-to-organized-religion thing?”
“She se
t fire to my parents’ Christmas tree last year.” She’d dragged it out onto the front lawn before lighting it up. His family was eccentric, not crazy—a slight distinction.
Chris laughed. The sound tugged the corners of Berg’s mouth up. The Christmas tree bonfire had almost made him want to go home. Almost.
“You got the weirdest care packages that last December we were stationed over there. I still remember that fleece scarf with Bob Marley’s head all over it.”
That’d been a trip. “I’m still not sure where my cousin thought I was and what I was celebrating. The chili pepper lights didn’t clarify things.”
“No, but the maple syrup was good. We got creative that week. I still like maple syrup on popcorn.”
Hard to believe shortly after that everything had been blown to hell. But that’s the way life screwed you over sometimes. It’d crowded out the good memories. He’d forgotten about the maple syrup.
Leaning forward, Chris focused on Berg. “So, seriously, are you going to put the moves on the new neighbor?” So much for changing the subject.
Berg shifted in his chair. “Sounds like a FUBAR waiting to happen, bro. Even if she did go for it, it wouldn’t work out. She was humming Disney songs while she was moving in.” She was sunshine and rainbows with that dimpled smile and honey-blond hair in braids. She’d made him want to smile back—she was that sugary sweet. All wrong for him. “And are you going to help me move again when it gets awkward and we can’t stand to live side-by-side? Besides,” he drifted back in his chair and lifted one of his prosthetic legs up, “not everyone wants a piece of this action.” He knew that. Hell did he know that.
“Bro, don’t go there. Laura had other reasons besides that to get out. You’d been gone more than you’d been together. Sometimes it’s about timing, and you’re not about to be deployed again.”
Berg shrugged. Didn’t mean the timing was great now. He still hadn’t settled into a career—though the money he was drawing from disability and from savings kept the pressure off him.
It was time to deflect his buddy’s attention before they got into dangerous territory. “What happened with Craig last week? You said he asked you for a favor?”
There was a pause and another searching look before Chris decided to let it go. “He’s involved in this start-up. A company called Virtual Match.”
“Never heard of it.”
“You wouldn’t. It’s new and not exactly your thing.” He tilted his head. “Well, it is and it isn’t. People sign up on the site and get matched with a significant other who’ll send them emails and texts.”
“Another online dating site?” There wasn’t anything innovative about that and why Craig had needed Chris’s help was beyond him. Chris was more into physical labor. He bounced between construction and roofing jobs down in L.A.
“Sort of. Except for the client never meets their virtual match because they don’t exist.”
Berg blinked and squinted. “What?”
“It’s fake. They’re fake. Craig wanted me to freelance as one of the fake boyfriends and send out emails and texts or whatever to a bunch of clients.”
“Why would people pay money for that?”
Chris shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they’re lonely. Maybe they’re trying to impress their friends or get their parents off their backs.” He shot Berg a significant look. “Maybe their old Marine buddies are worried about them shutting down and drinking too much…”
Berg lifted the energy drink. “Hell, Chris, first you lay into me about this and now…”
“Anyway,” Chris talked above him, “whatever the reason, they sign up on the site and someone interacts with them.” He rubbed his chin. “But Craig has got the wrong guy. I barely sound literate in my emails to you.” Which was why they’d switched to video conferencing. “I’m much more a face-to-face kind of guy. I can manage the phone calls that come with the deluxe package, but no way can I handle all the rest of it. That’s more your thing. Your emails to Laura kept her yours for longer than any of the other girlfriends in our unit.”
“As far as we know.” His ex hadn’t lasted long after they’d gotten back.
“Sam’s wife couldn’t even handle that last deployment, and they’d been together since high school.”
“Alright, so I do okay with emails.” He didn’t like the look in Chris’s eyes. “No!”
His friend held up both his hands, palms out. “Hear me out!”
Berg pointed at the monitor. “No. We played that game once when you wanted that medic and you know how that ended.”
Chris rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but that was an actual woman. There’s no way it could hold up with a woman in real life.”
“These would be actual women. You’re the fake, remember? They’re real.”
“C’mon, Berg. You owe Craig too and he’s desperate, man. They didn’t know it would be this big. I’ll do the phone calls and you can handle the emails. We’ll split the money fifty-fifty.”
“When I’m doing all the emails and texts?”
“I can probably handle the texts.”
Berg dropped his chin and gave him a doubtful look. “You sound like a tween girl in texts. I always expect them to be about boy bands or glitter tattoos.”
Chris laughed again. Damn, he was going to do it. If for no other reason than it made Chris happy. Anything that kept his best friend out of the dark corners of his mind was worth it. “Okay, twenty...” He squinted.
“Eighty,” Berg finished. “You’re lucky you’ve got such a pretty face. If you couldn’t get by on your looks…” Chris had a lot of other things going for him, but he wasn’t caving on this without ribbing his friend.
“It’s my looks that got me into this. Craig wanted to know if I had the rights to all those shots of me that Rod’s sister did for her portfolio. He said I looked like everyone’s ideal boyfriend.” Chris scowled. “If only that were true.” They’d all been striking out since they’d gotten home. “Anyway, I’ll send you the paychecks and you can figure out what to send me. So, you can use my pictures. I’ll do the phone calls. You do the texts and emails.”
“So, I’ll have a bunch of strangers knowing my cell phone number and email address?”
“No, it’s all through the site. You use the site to send the emails and texts and it looks like it’s from a specific phone number. I’ll turn off the notifications for texts, and forward calls to my own cell. You can use either your laptop or your phone to log on, you’ll throw the client a few sentences, and, wham, you’re done. Easy money. Like having a bunch of strangers for friends. We’ll even use my first name or a made-up name or whatever name they want—it’s like you don’t even exist.”
“Technically, neither of us will exist.” Well, they would, but the relationships wouldn’t be real. He couldn’t be agreeing to this.
“I’ll make up a cool last name. Like…ninja. Chris Ninja.”
Berg snorted. “You can’t use that as a last name.”
“I’ll think of something. So, I’ll tell Craig it’s cool and he’ll set me up with a log-in that I’ll share with you.”
“I’m going to regret this.”
“What could go wrong?”
Berg dropped his head into his hands. He couldn’t even begin to count the number of times his friend had dragged him into something stupid that blew up in their faces and it always began with: what could go wrong? Everything.
His doorbell rang.
Berg lifted his head and caught Chris’s curious look.
“It’s probably something I ordered. Let me know what Craig says,” and he hung up before his buddy could say anything else. Chris had been getting after him to go out more and ignore the stares while he was grocery shopping. Pushing to his feet, he strode to the door and opened it.
He definitely had not ordered this.
~*~
The door flew open with so much force Roxanne jumped. Her new neighbor did everything with a vitality that made her pulse p
ick up. He was strong and commanding…and her mouth went dry. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. And she’d tried. She’d tried so hard. The last thing she needed in her life was another guy. There was a niggling voice in her head that said maybe the right guy.
She held up the plate of cookies.
He had helped with her boxes and that deserved some sort of acknowledgement. Yeah right. That’s why she was here. It’s not because he reminded her of her favorite Disney bad boy, Aladdin. He was all dark and shadowed and, wow, she’d been humming “A Whole New World” while he was helping her move until she’d caught herself doing it.
With his dark brown, nearly black eyes, he stared at the plate she held up between them. It felt like she was using the plate as a shield.
“I made you cookies.” Way to state the obvious, girl. That ought to bring him to his knees.
“They look good.” He still didn’t step back.
“I’m your new neighbor.” How horrifying would it be if he didn’t recognize her? Maybe that’s what was wrong. “I mean, I’m bringing it up in case you didn’t recognize me and you’re against cookies from strangers. Though, really, we didn’t introduce ourselves so we’re still technically strangers.” She hadn’t realized that until later. She should stop blathering on regardless. And he still hadn’t moved or responded. “I’m Roxanne. Roxie. Edmonds.” She shifted her plate to one hand and held the other out to shake his.
