by Anthology
I slid into the booth and set my purse at my side. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
She giggled like a teenage girl. “I see the way you look at him, and he’s always watching you.”
I waved my hand across the table in front of her. “You’re imagining things, Mar.”
“Am I?”
“Coffee, Fran?” Martha asked, holding an empty cup in her hand.
I smiled at her because I couldn’t have timed the interruption any better. “Yes, please.”
Maria and I stared at each other while Martha poured a full cup, but we didn’t speak. When the waitress was out of earshot, Maria started right where she left off.
“So did you at least kiss him?”
My sister-in-law was a nosy thing. She and Morgan could form their own little club. “No.” I rolled my eyes as I brought the mug to my lips.
She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows. “Did you want to?”
“Maybe,” I said, drawing out my answer.
“He’s a bit rough around the edges, but he’s one of the nicest, most loyal men I’ve ever met.”
“Morgan says he’s trouble.”
“If Morgan had his way, you’d enter a convent and be celibate the rest of your life.”
“You got that right.”
Martha came back, pulling the pencil from behind her ear. “You ladies want the usual?”
“Yeah,” we answered together before Martha walked away.
“We’re really getting predictable, aren’t we?” I asked Maria.
“You can think you’re old, but I feel like I have a new lease on life. I plan to live with no apologies and no regrets.” I smiled and glanced out the window just as I heard the sound of a motorcycle. For a moment, I hoped it would be Bear barreling down the street, just to catch a glimpse of him. But it was a girl in short-shorts and flip-flops, with her long blond hair waving in the wind. “I figure I have twenty good years left in me. I don’t plan on spending them crocheting and watching soap operas.”
Maria rubbed her face with her fingertips, making tiny circles near her temples. “You just depressed the hell out of me.”
“Why?”
“Twenty years? I want to turn back the clock and go back to my youth. Time moves so fast now, it’ll pass in the blink of an eye.”
“I know, girl, I know. That’s why I don’t plan on spending it at home—what a waste that would be.”
She cupped the dingy cream mug in her hand and leaned back in the booth. “Do you have a plan?”
“No, but I know just where I’m going to start.” I rubbed my hands together with the biggest smile on my face.
“I feel there’s going to be a rocky road ahead.”
“Morgan forgets who the parent is in this situation. He’s not the boss of me. He’ll just have to deal.”
“Oh, this is going to be fun.” Maria laughed. “You know…” Her voice trailed off.
“What?”
“We should really get you a new wardrobe if you plan to whore it up.”
I glanced down at my favorite pink tracksuit and pulled at the collar. “Why?”
Maria’s eyes traveled around my top before connecting with my eyes. “You look like you live in an assisted-living community and are about to play bridge. You certainly don’t scream ‘fuck me’ in that ratty old thing.”
“But it’s comfortable.”
“So is an old shoe, but there’s a time when you need to replace it.”
“Fine,” I muttered. “When do you want to go shopping?”
“I’m not doing anything today,” she replied quickly with a partial grin.
“Let’s do this, then.” I shrugged. “I’m ready for a change.” I lied right through my teeth. Some change, I could deal with, but the way I dressed was more of a security blanket to stop the advances of men.
“Fuck, this is going to be epic!”
“When did you start using the word epic, Mar?”
“Izzy seems to like it, so I figured I’d try it out.”
I giggled, and Maria quickly followed. As soon as Martha delivered our breakfast, we ate quickly before heading to the mall.
Maria had my head spinning the way she shopped. She twirled around the department store, plucking pieces off the racks and holding them against me.
“What size are you?” she asked, with a top that looked more like a scrap of material pressed up against my chest.
“Medium, maybe.” I cringed because I hadn’t bought anything new in so long, I wasn’t quite sure.
“And your pants?”
“Medium too.”
Her eyebrows drew together as her eyes flicked to mine. “Real pants don’t come in medium. What’s your actual size?”
I glanced down at my track pants and pulled at the elastic. “Last time I checked, these were real pants.”
She laughed softly at first, but every time she looked at my face, her laughter grew louder. “I can’t.” She tried to catch her breath but couldn’t. “Those aren’t—”
“Can I help you?” a saleswoman asked after hearing Maria laughing like a hyena.
“We’re good,” I told her, already embarrassed enough by my sister-in-law. “Thank you, though.”
“Can I start a dressing room for you?”
With all the ugly tops piled high on my one arm, I couldn’t say no. “Yes, please. I don’t think she’s done yet.”
Maria cleared her throat to try to get rid of her giggles. “No, we’re far from done,” she said in a strangled voice.
I rolled my eyes and handed over the pile of “real” clothing, as Maria would’ve called it, before the saleswoman scurried away.
“Are you done laughing at me?”
She shook her head, walking away from me quickly, but I could still hear her laughter as I followed behind. She grabbed some pants in various sizes from the rack to cover the bases before we headed to the dressing room to try on the first round of items.
She stood outside the door, tapping her foot against the cold, white tile. “How does it look?” she asked.
My arms didn’t want to go into the tiny opening in the long-sleeved top she’d picked out. I kept sticking my hand through the cutout near the shoulder. “Great.”
“Let me see.”
When I finally got it on and looked in the mirror, it wasn’t as bad as I’d imagined. “Gimme a minute. I have to put on some pants.” I grabbed the size eight, figuring it was my best bet, and pulled them on easily. “Wrong size.”
“Which one?”
“Eight.”
“Too small?”
“Too big,” I admitted, feeling slightly ashamed that I didn’t know my right size. Track pants were easy. They always fit. Even if I gained a few pounds or lost a few, the elastic always made them right. I threw the eights to the floor and grabbed the size six from the hook. “What the hell are skinny jeans?”
“Just put them on,” she said in an annoyed tone.
“I’m doing this for you, so you better drop the attitude, Mar.”
“Shut up, Franny. This is for you and that poor, lonely vagina of yours. Put the jeans on, and get your tiny little ass out here.”
My vagina wasn’t lonely. The thieving bastard Johnny had taken care of it for some time. I just wasn’t a talker like Maria. I didn’t have to share my sexual experiences to validate that they actually happened.
Once I had the jeans on, I turned around and looked at my ass in the mirror. My bottom never looked so nice. The soft denim had a bit of stretch, making it easy to breathe, and it was comfortable. They looked more like leggings from the way they clung to my body. The outfit was pretty, but I looked younger—too young, in fact.
“I look stupid,” I whined, but secretly I liked the outfit. I didn’t look like a grandma anymore, but like a woman.
“I’m coming in if you don’t come out.”
Damn her. She was so damn pushy. Years of being with my brother had turned her into a bossy little thing. “Don’t
!” I yelled before finally turning the handle and walking out for her inspection.
She clapped the moment she saw me. “You look hot,” she said with the widest smile. “Turn around.” She twirled her fingers in a circle. Instead of fighting her, I followed her command.
She whistled loudly when my ass faced her full on. “You can bounce a quarter off that thing.”
“Please,” I groaned in horror. “It’s aged too much for that shit.”
“You’re getting that outfit.”
“I don’t know. The top really isn’t me.”
She smacked my ass, causing me to jump. “That’s the point. We’re retiring the tracksuit. It’s too you, and that shit ain’t working.”
I turned, glaring at her for a second. “Fine.” I wanted the outfit, but I’d never admit it to her.
“Go try on the next one.”
I closed the door and turned around in front of the mirror, smiling as I did. I really did like the way the outfit hugged my body and showed my curves.
“We have to get you a new bra.”
“Why?” I called out when I started to pry the shirt from my body in the most ungraceful way.
“Your boobs shouldn’t be near your elbows.”
As I tossed the top to the floor with the size-eight jeans, I stared in the mirror and turned to the side. She was right. They were hanging low. The bra I had on was the same style I’d worn for years.
“They’re fine.”
“No, they’re not. Does it even have underwire?”
I grimaced at the thought of wearing something so constrictive. “Underwire?”
“You need a push-up bra to get those girls back toward your chin.”
“For the love of God,” I muttered, pushing up my tits to the spot they’d sat twenty years ago.
“Let’s find more clothes, and then we’re on to raising those babies a few inches. You need to show off that cleavage.”
In my head, I kept hearing Morgan. He was going to flip his lid the moment he saw me. The entire thing might be worth it just to freak him out.
But then I thought of Bear. What would he say when he saw the new me?
***
Wicked Impulse, Book 3 in the ALFA PI series, can be read as a standalone or as best enjoyed, after reading Sinful Intent and Unlawful Desire. Wicked Impulse is about Bear, a character first introduced in Throttle Me (Men of Inked series).
Sinful Intent - Book 1
Unlawful Desire - Book 2
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Wicked Impulse - Book 3
or visit chellebliss.com/wickedimpulse
Enshrine Prequel
This is a PREQUEL to the STANDALONE novel, Enshrine.
So if you haven’t read Enshrine yet… No worries. Read the prequel on the next page.
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"Enshrine is a story of hope, love, and embracing life's unexpected challenges. These characters will tug hard at your heartstrings and take you on an emotional journey you won't soon forget." ~ Meredith Wild, #1 NYT Bestselling Author of the Hacker Series
"I went in blind and came out with tears streaming down my cheeks. Beautiful. Poignant. This book will stay with you long after you've finished." ~ Rachel Van Dyken, #1 NYT Bestselling Author
Chapter 1
Bruno
New Year’s Eve 5 years ago
It’s New Year’s Eve, and even though we’re in New York City, I refuse to go to Times Square with the hordes of tourists that have flooded the city. The real action happens away from the prying eyes of the television cameras and the hundreds of police officers. Tonight, I’m going to relax and step outside my comfort zone.
Looking around the overcrowded bar, I can’t help but think about time. Its elusive nature. Slipping through our fingertips and always escaping us, no matter how hard we try to make it stop. New Year’s is one of the only times we embrace the passage of time, ushering in the beginning of something new and hoping to forget about our past.
“Can I get you another drink, Mr. Bruno?” Mary Elizabeth, the sweet, young bartender, asks. She started less than a month ago, arriving from Bumfuck, Georgia with dreams of becoming a supermodel. She informed me that waitressing is only temporary until she finds an agent to put her on the cover of every major magazine in the world.
Poor thing.
New York City is the place where the unattainable feels almost possible. Millions of people have come here with stars in their eyes, hoping to hit it big but typically falling on their faces and being sucked into the morass of commonality.
“Please.” I turn my back to her and glance around the bar.
“Hey,” I say when Callie approaches. For a moment, I think she’s going to stop and talk, but her friend Becca drags her toward the dance floor instead.
“Hey,” she replies before being pulled into the crowd and disappearing.
We’re a half hour away from the ball dropping and the start of something new. With each passing minute, the crowd vibrates more with the anticipation of the clock striking midnight. The feeling inside the club is electric and infectious.
“No date tonight?” Mary Elizabeth asks when she sets the Jack down behind me.
I turn to face her with a smile. “Not tonight.” Not many people here would ask me that question, but she looks at me differently than the other workers. It’s not that she’s attracted to me, but she finds the good in everyone. She may be the only person in the bar who isn’t scared of me.
Tiny red ringlets have fallen free from her ponytail and cascade to her shoulders like overhanging branches of a tree. “It’s a shame. A handsome guy like you shouldn’t be alone.”
Her words make me laugh. I’ve been alone for my entire life. My world doesn’t make it easy to be in a relationship. Trying to maintain the veil of truth with a partner while working in a career that involves lies makes it damn near impossible. “I’m not alone,” I tell her since I’m surrounded by hundreds of people.
She leans forward, reaching into the ice chest. “Just because you’re with people doesn’t mean you are with anybody.” Her green eyes sparkle in the overhead lighting of the bar.
“I know, Mary Elizabeth.” I swirl the whiskey, letting it aerate, and I catch a whiff of sweetness. “Thanks for the reminder.”
“I’m always here to help.” She smiles brightly, the freckles on her cheeks almost kissing her eyes.
She wanders to the other end of the bar to wait on the dozens of customers eager to be served. Leaning against the bar, I watch the partygoers as they dance to the intoxicating beats of the DJ. Every few seconds, Callie becomes visible—but only when the crowd parts just the right way. Her short black miniskirt that kisses her thighs at just the right place to drive any man wild rides up slightly with each step before sliding back down.
She and her friend Becca have been coming into the club for a year now, though I’ve never spoken more than a quick hello to either of them. But I’ve had my eye on Callie. Not in a creepy sense, but her beauty has always captivated me. Being in my line of work, getting close to anyone is too dangerous, so I’ve always kept my distance. Casualties are to be expected, but some would be a bigger burden to bear. And I’d never put the life of someone as sweet as her in danger.
Turning my back to the dance floor and Callie, I lean over the bar and toy with my drink. This will be another New Year’s I’ll spend alone, but I won’t be doing it sober. So I down my drink and motion to Mary Elizabeth for a refill. As she pours, she quirks an auburn eyebrow. I know what she’s thinking—why is he getting hammered?
Life has been hard. Living the way I do always has moments that make me question my life choices, but watching my sister suffer has taken a toll on me. Cancer wasn’t something I ever thought I’d have to face in life, but being by my sister’s side during her entire battle had become the most important thing in my life. Months of treatment and surgeries took a toll on her and me too. Tonight, I want to get lost and escape my r
eality in a bottle of Jack, and if I’m lucky, some girl who wants nothing more than a one-night stand. I can’t offer anything more than that.
“I’m dying of thirst,” the girl beside me says, but I don’t bother looking.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough already, Cal?” her friend responds, and I’m instantly interested in their conversation.
“I’ve only had a few drinks, and I’ve sweated them off anyway.”
Staring out of the corner of my eye, I see her straight blond hair shimmering and swaying back and forth while she talks. Her hands are moving around as she describes the new car she’s just purchased and the “sweet curves” of the body.
All I can think about are the curves of her body and the way she moved on the dance floor.
“Two more, please,” Callie tells Mary Elizabeth.
As she pours their drinks, she gives me a look. I scowl in response and lift the glass to my lips, but I keep my eyes on Mary Elizabeth.
“Is that all, ladies?” she asks them as she scoots their drinks in front of them.
“That’s it.”
“No charge,” she tells them and smiles at me. “Bruno here is buying.”
My eyes widen, and I know what she’s doing. The little Southern minx is trying to play cupid. She feels bad that I’m alone, when it’s the way I’ve chosen to live.
“Thank you,” Becca says as I turn to them and tip my glass.
“Thanks.” Callie’s sweet voice makes me smile like a teenage boy with a serious crush.
“You’re welcome,” I say, finally finding my voice and my balls.
I face forward again, figuring our conversation would only consist of those few brief lines.
“We always see you in here. You’re always so damn serious,” Becca says without a care in the world, probably fueled by a little liquid courage.
“I’m not always serious.” I feel defensive, but I know her words are true.
Callie’s eyes rake over me, and she starts to giggle. “Even now, you’re scowling.”
