“Sir? Here’s your refill.” A thin waitress held out a glass of Scotch. He frowned, staring at the drink then up at her.
“I didn’t order this.”
“Oh, sorry, I thought…” Her face grew red, her eyes sliding from his. She fumbled as she tried to step back, nearly falling. Reacting on instinct, he stood and grabbed hold of her before she could fall. The Scotch tipped falling down the front of his shirt, but he barely noticed as her eyes filled with tears of mortification.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did that.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said soothingly, reaching to her stress. “It’s just a bit of spilt scotch.” Expensive scotch, but he didn’t say that, she already looked like she was going to bolt. He frowned as he stared into her pale face. She looked exhausted. “Don’t you work at the diner?” He didn’t go often, but he seemed to recall seeing her once or twice.
“Yes.” She was still staring at his wet shirt. “I’ll get you a napkin.”
“Wait.” He reached out and grabbed hold of her wrist.
“I’ll be right back.” She tugged at his hold on her.
“Stop,” he commanded.
She froze. His body stirred. She was submissive. A natural one. “A napkin isn’t going to help much now.”
She bit her lower lip. “I could wash it for you.”
“Are you trying to get me out of my shirt?”
Her eyes widened. “N-no, not at all.”
He grinned and she let out a deep breath. “You’re teasing me.”
“Yes, I believe I am.” He didn’t know why. He let her go. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to tell me your name. I want to say Colorado.”
She smiled slightly and her face lightened. “Aspen. It’s Aspen.”
“Hi, Aspen. I’m Saxon.”
“I know.”
He raised one eyebrow.
She looked away then back up at him. Brave little sub. “Everyone knows who you are.”
And by the look on her face, his reputation had been hugely exaggerated.
“And what do people say about me?”
Her blue eyes widened. “I don’t think I want to say.”
Well, now he had to know.
“Tell me.” He gave her a stern look, surprised by the small smile that tugged at her lips.
“They warned me to keep away unless I want to get my heart broken.”
He sighed. “So I’m the breaker of hearts, am I? What about my poor heart, maybe it’s being broken over and over.”
“Hmm, from what I’ve heard most people don’t think you have one.”
And that’s where his reputation failed him. Because they were most assuredly wrong. He had a heart. He just didn’t ever intend to get involved with someone based on what his heart told him to do.
Never again.
Thanks for reading Molly’s Man.
Read on for an excerpt from the other books in my Haven, Texas series
Lila’s Loves
Haven, Texas, Book One
A loud banging woke Lila instantly. With a gasp, she sat up, scooting against the wall behind her. Heart in her throat, she reached one trembling hand out for the bat she kept close by.
You could never be too careful in this neighborhood.
“Lila, open the door.”
She froze. Oh fuck. Oh hell. It couldn’t be. Her heart raced faster, but not out of fear now. What was he doing here?
“Lila,” another voice added. “Open up or we’re breaking this door down.”
Lila groaned. Crap. They’d do it, too. She climbed off her bed, if you could call it that since it was just a worn mattress on the floor. She left the bat there. It wouldn’t do her any good. Not against them. Never against family. And that’s what they were despite the lack of blood tying them together.
Clay had made it very clear years ago that they were her family now. Forever. She’d wanted to believe him. Desperately. But there had always part of her that expected it to end. That Clay would eventually change his mind and kick her out.
Clay had saved her when he could have just left her in that alley and gone on happily with his life. Many people would have.
She’d tried to be perfect. Tried not to let Clay down. She’d been a model student, had done all that was asked of her, and had always worried it wasn’t enough, that she’d do something to ruin it.
Turning on the light, she walked over to the door in the one-room apartment and peered out the peephole. Only two of them had come, Colin and Trace. Disappointment filled her.
She was surprised Gavin wasn’t with them; it wasn’t like him to stay behind. The oldest of the three, Gavin was a take-charge sort of guy, plain-speaking and confident. He could be both terrifying and magnificent, making her feel safe one moment and then angry enough to kick him the next.
Damn, she missed him, missed all of them.
It had been six months since she’d seen them and she’d thought about them every day.
“Lila, stand on the opposite side of the room,” Trace ordered. “We’re coming in.”
Okay, so their patience had come to an end.
“Wait, I’m opening it. I’m opening it.” She wrenched open the door, staring up at Trace and Colin, standing shoulder to shoulder in the hallway.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked in a frantic whisper. “You’ll wake my neighbors.”
“If they haven’t come running by now, shorty, then they ain’t coming. Now, be a good girl and invite us in,” Trace told her. A slight frown wrinkled his forehead, but his eyes were filled with concern.
“What do you want? Why are you here?” She attempted to sound uninviting, even as she watched them hungrily. God, she loved them.
More than she should. She didn’t love them like a sister should. She was in love with them. And the kicker was they didn’t love her back. They were kind to her, tolerated her for Clay’s sake, but they didn’t love her. It was why she’d left. Staying would have brought her more heartbreak than she could have managed.
So she’d moved here to Phoenix. To be miserable and alone.
Colin ran his gaze over her, his eyes eating her up. At twenty-nine, he was two years younger than Trace and a few inches taller. Colin’s deeply tanned skin went perfectly with his sun-kissed hair and deep brown eyes. The heat in those eyes sent a shiver down her spine. She was obviously imagining things. No way would Colin ever be interested in her.
Trace’s bright green eyes watched her carefully, but with no less heat than his brother. They were looking at her like they wanted to eat her alive. Her insides clenched at the thought of both of them touching her, tasting her. Flushes of heat assailed her, weakening her knees. If she just reached out she’d be touching them. Just one small touch…
No! She had to stop this. It was why she had left. Because her attraction to them, to all of them, would never be reciprocated. Oh, they were nice to her, but they certainly didn’t feel anything more towards her than brotherly affection.
If they had ever given her any indication that they wanted her, she wouldn’t be here now. She would never have left. But when she’d told them she was moving out, they hadn’t protested. In fact, they’d helped her pack. If that wasn’t an indication of their feelings then she didn’t know what was.
She cleared her throat. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Clay’s in the hospital,” Colin told her. “We’ve come to bring you home.”
Laken’s Surrender
Haven, Texas, Book Three
“Morning, sugar.”
Laken ground her teeth, telling herself it was annoyance and not pleasure she felt bubbling through her stomach.
Without looking up, she snapped back. “Don’t call me that.”
“Now, is that any way to greet a man bearing gifts?” he chided softly.
The old Duncan would have pulled her up for her tone of voice. The old Duncan would have bent her over the counter, scolding her as he smacked
her butt. Or he would have ordered her to her knees and given her mouth something to occupy itself with.
That was something she did not miss.
So why do I keep goading him on? Why do I keep pushing, hoping for a reaction? Is there a part of me that wants him to take back control?
She squashed that voice as she glanced up. He was holding a brown paper bag and a large coffee. Her stomach growled. She knew what was in that bag. An apple turnover.
Her favorite.
“I’m not hungry.”
His dark gaze narrowed as he looked her over.
“You’ve had breakfast?” he asked.
It entered her head that she could lie, but she’d never managed to successfully pull that off with him. He’d always known when she was lying.
“I’m not hungry,” she repeated. “You know, you might want to get your ears cleaned out. I’ve heard wax build-up can make you really deaf.”
Duncan placed the bag on the counter and leaned closer. Laken forced herself to stand her ground even as his scent surrounded her. Hot, molten male. Her insides quivered.
“You’re losing weight you didn’t have to lose, Laken. You need to take better care of yourself.” He ran his thumb under her eye. For a brief moment she leaned into him before pulling back. “You have bags under your eyes. Your light was on late last night, can’t you sleep?”
Her gaze shot up to meet his concerned one. She blushed, remembering how she hadn’t bothered to pull down her drapes last night. Most evenings she was so worn out by the time she got to bed that she barely managed to find the energy to brush her teeth. She worked all day in her store, then spent hours at night working on new designs. Some days she didn’t even leave the building.
“Spying on me, deputy?” She winced at the breathy tone of her voice as she glared at him.
He winked, giving her a quick grin. Her breath caught. He didn’t smile often, but when he did… well it would take a stronger woman than her to resist the appeal of that smile.
“I was on duty last night. I just happened to be driving past.”
That was not disappointment she felt. It was not.
“Well, go stalk someone else,” she sniped, inwardly wincing at the acid in her tone. “I don’t need or want you looking out for me.”
“You’re wrong, Laken,” he said in a deep voice. “You need me more than you realize. Something’s wrong and I want to know what it is. You’re not eating or sleeping. You’re snapping at everyone, even those just trying to help you. Keep up this heavy workload you’re subjecting yourself to and you’re going to end up in the hospital.”
She snorted. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit overdramatic? Plenty of people work long hours, Duncan. Do you go around lecturing all of them?”
Duncan sighed. “Why are you so angry at me, Laken? I know I made mistakes years ago. I was too caught up in my career to give you the attention you deserved. Don’t you think I deeply regret that? But I wasn’t the only one who made mistakes. You never even gave me a proper explanation for why you broke things off. I think you owe me that much, don’t you?”
“I told you why. Things weren’t working out.” She couldn’t meet his eyes. “Do we have to rehash this over and over? You’re like a bad batch of chili; you just keep repeating yourself. We’re over, Duncan, we have been for years, and it’s time you moved on with your life. I have.”
Pain tore through her, but she forced herself to keep calm. She couldn’t handle Duncan right now. He had always been a force to reckon with and if he set his sights on something then he would let nothing get in his way. It was that determination and drive that had made him a hugely successful linebacker.
She couldn’t afford to have him focus all his attention on her. Because she had secrets that she was determined no one would ever uncover.
“You never could lie very well,” he told her. “I’m not sure what is going on with you, but I do know that I missed you. A lot.” He took hold of her hand. “I want us to try again. Go out on a date with me, Laken.”
This was the third time he’d asked her on a date. Each time was harder than the last to say no.
She pulled her hand free, clenching her teeth against the initial surge of pleasure. A “yes” hovered on her lips. God, how easy it would be to fall back into Duncan’s arms. But she couldn’t get involved with him. Duncan would never let her secrets lie.
“I’m not doing this again. I’m not going to be your doormat.”
His eyes grew cold. “You were never my doormat and you know it. What we did was always consensual and you loved being my submissive. You can spit and snarl at me all you like, but I am not giving up on you. Not this time. I learn from my mistakes, Laken. I would cherish you.”
“Would you give up BDSM for me?” Christ, how had that slipped out? She wasn’t even sure that was what she wanted. The thought of playing with Duncan again filled her with fear and longing. It was a sickening mix that made her head ache and her whole body throb.
He gazed at her thoughtfully. “Now why would you want me to do that? You loved being my submissive. Does this have something to do with why you broke things off? Did something happen to make you afraid of submitting to me, Laken?”
Christ, this is what she got for letting down her guard. She couldn’t let Duncan close and keep her secrets.
Saving Savannah
Haven, Texas, Book Three
September fourth.
Four weeks.
Savannah stared numbly at the date on the calendar. The protective shell she’d wrapped around herself was a blessing. It kept her from feeling too much. From feeling much of anything.
It had kept her from experiencing too much pain as she’d recovered from the cuts and bruises he’d inflicted on her.
It kept her from falling apart from the horror of the memories that threatened to drown her. It kept her sane.
Well, sort of. It was a weird kind of sanity. She lived in an almost dreamlike state. As though she were separated from her body. Like she was on really good drugs. The kind she’d been on for those first few days in the hospital when she’d woken up bandaged and broken.
Broken? Like she was fixed now? The wounds were healed. There were still some small scars, but the doctor told her they’d probably fade with time. Yep, time would take care of her outer wounds. But the scars on the inside . . . well, they’d stay there. Buried deep where no one would find them.
It was better this way. If she hid buried everything then eventually life would go back to normal. Right?
“Savannah!”
She let out a cry as the loud voice boomed through the house. She shook for a moment, her heart racing so hard she felt ill. Legs weak, she leaned against the kitchen island behind her.
Calm. Calm. Find that place where you’re not afraid.
“Savannah? Oh, there you are.” The relief on Logan’s face was clear. “Didn’t you hear me calling for you?”
They’d probably heard him calling in the next state; Logan wasn’t exactly subtle.
“Are you okay? Are you all right?” He shifted from foot to foot, looking a little uncomfortable. Poor Logan, he was a man of action, not words.
Logan just continued to stare at her. She opened her mouth to say something . . . anything . . . and the words dried up in her throat.
He sighed. “Savannah . . .” He paused, seeming to rethink what he was about to say. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
“Of course,” she said automatically. But she wouldn’t. Because talking meant examining her feelings, it meant letting go of this protective shell and she couldn’t do that because she had a horrible feeling that once she started opening up she was going to fall completely apart.
“Okay, baby.” He gazed around. “What are you doing in here? Can I get something for you?”
She looked around the kitchen. What was she doing in here? She couldn’t quite remember. That happened a lot now. She just blanked out. It was frightening.
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“I came to cook you lunch.”
He blanched, and she couldn’t blame him. Savannah was a truly awful cook. In her defense, no one had ever taught her how. The first time she’d tried to cook for her men, well, they’d been lucky the house had two toilets and an outhouse. Poor Logan had pulled the short straw and had ended spending most of the night in the privy.
Oh, that hadn’t been a good night.
“You sit down. I’ll make us something,” he commanded. Everything with Logan came out sounding like an order.
“All right.” She walked over to the dining table. The kitchen and dining room were open plan with the living room across the hallway. She sat, looking out the window.
Four weeks. It had been four weeks since Richard Stanton had kidnapped her. Tortured her. Terrified her.
And she was scared she’d never be the same again.
Molly's Man (Haven, Texas Book 4) Page 22
