One Little Letter: A Bad Boy, Second Chance Romance (Office Escapades Book 1)

by Robin Edwards

  One Little Letter

  A Contemporary Romance

  By Robin Edwards

  © Copyright 2016-2017 by Robin Edwards

  and Second Chances Press

  All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited, and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher. Names and persons in this eBook are entirely fictional. They bear no resemblance to anyone living or dead. To protect the privacy of certain individuals the names and identifying details have been changed. This is a work of fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  Table of Contents

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  Prologue

  SEAN

  There’s nothing wrong with being a hopeless romantic, it doesn’t make you any less of a man and trust me, I am all man. I’d like to think I have swagger, that essence of a man that has women aching for him whenever he walks into a room. It’s the quality that tells a woman that you are hot and she doesn’t even know your name.

  When I was a teenager, I snuck into my parents’ bedroom and came across my mother’s stash of romance novels. I should have been looking for my dad’s stack of porn magazines, if he had any but if you ask me, my mother’s romance novels taught me more about what women wanted than any magazine could. It taught me what women longed for but didn’t think they could get. What they didn’t ask for but craved.

  Trust me I didn’t enjoy reading these books any more than I had to, it was all research. What these books taught me were the little things that made women swoon: the way a man’s pants hung from his hips, they loved abs and the clincher was always the look you gave. If you nailed the look, you nailed the chick. It was never about the grand gestures or saying the right words, it was the energy you brought into the room. It was how you looked, stood and moved.

  Throughout my young adulthood I put these habits into practice and I got really lucky and became what you would call a ladies man. Throughout high school and during my peak in college, I could have had any woman I wanted and I had any woman I wanted and they all loved me for it. I was your modern day hero and they all felt lucky to be seen with me when we were out in public and surprisingly not a single one was jealous that I moved onto another woman the next week.

  It’s not that the women were brainless, desperate or had any weak-willed qualities, but they fawned over me not only because of how I carried myself but how I treated them when I was with them. I made them feel wanted and beautiful. They were all aware I was not relationship material at the time and they were okay with that. They didn’t try to change me, instead they desperately sought out those brief moments they were given to where they were adored, cherished and desired.

  My reign lasted during my entire four years at college and it was the best years of my life and I can proudly say that. I still miss it and some days I find myself wanting to travel back in time to those years and relive it all over again. Things were good, no, things were perfect.

  I bet you are wondering why I’m speaking in past tense with words like was, I miss it, time travel…as if it was no longer happening. Your assumptions are correct, it did end. I assure you it was by choice and it was for a good reason.

  You see, during my last semester in college I was at the local Irish pub near campus hanging out with the boys discussing my next conquest attempt when I saw her: Amy Garrison. She was the goddess in my Comparative Lit lecture. She looked back at me with bright, effervescent blue eyes and an amazing smile. It was something about the way she flipped or played with her hair when she looked at me under those long, seductive lashes. For the first time, my heart dropped but I was confident in myself. I was confident I’d win over that seductress. I knew she was either interested or was playing that game. You know the one I’m talking about, the one where they try to get free drinks out of you. I couldn’t tell which group she belonged to but I was determined to find out.

  I approached her that night, starting with my swagger and my ‘go-to strut’ towards her. When I got to her, I leaned on the bar top and asked the bartender for a scotch, neat. When he passed the glass to me, I gave her a sideways glance and downed the scotch in one fluid motion. I cleared my throat to dissipate the burning feeling the scotch gave as it slid down my throat.

  I decided to stand there and typically a woman would approach me, tired of waiting, nay hoping, that I’d approach them. But Amy didn’t. She played a little game of her own. She mimicked my actions and leaned over the bar top exposing the top of her cleavage, asked the bartender for another dry martini and ended it with a slow seductive tongue dance with the olive.

  I didn’t know back then, but she was the female version of me and she was better at it than I was. She had me at that little olive dance. We did end up going home that night and oh what a night that was. We pulled an all-nighter despite having an exam that upcoming Monday. That was it for me. That night was the night she clinched my lifelong allegiance and devotion to her and I was a puppet on a string; she was the puppet master and she knew it and used it well.

  I was brainwashed with what I now call a case of the ‘I think I’m in love’-itis. I did anything for her willingly and I was completely in adoration of her. She requested; I gave. This went on for years and we had gotten married despite her party lifestyle while I stabilized and settled down. This continued up until a few months ago when I found her with another man. Not just any man, my best friend.

  I highly doubt that this was the first time either, I’m pretty convinced that she had her side activities the entire time we’d been together but I can’t prove it. All it did was leave me where I am now, alone. I need to contact her, I miss her. I’d rather be in a ‘half-something’ than in a ‘nothing at all’. I turned into a desperate, hopeless romantic. If my college buddies could only see me now; they’d laugh, hysterically.

  Chapter One

  Dearest Amy,

  It’s been three months since I last saw you when we broke up, and I used to think about it a lot, but I don’t anymore. Not until today at least. Although the break-up came as a shock and really hurt, it’s in the past and in the back of my mind now. I’ve been doing really fantastic since then, and I hope you are doing great too…

  “Okay, this should be it. It is all done.” my business partner and good friend, Patrick said as he dropped client files on top of my desk. We were partners in a design firm that developed the art creative for a company’s promotional campaigns.

  Patrick didn’t notice what I was doing at first and was about to walk away until he noticed the familiar name on the open dialogue box of my email account out of the corner of his eyes before he leaned in closer to my computer screen. “What the hell are you doing exactly?” he questioned.

  “What does it look
like I’m doing? I am just typing a simple ‘How are you doing?’ email to Amy.” I said as I continued to type.

  “It looks more like you are losing every last ounce of self-respect and dignity you still have. Did you not learn your lesson the first time?” Patrick said as he quickly clicked [DELETE] on my email window.

  “Hey! What are you doing? I was about to send that!” I exclaimed.

  “What exactly is the point of emailing her?” Patrick asked.

  I was at a loss for words and I could not think of anything to justify my impulsive and longing need to contact my ex-wife. Patrick noticed my lack of justification and continued his soap box rant, “See there is none. Have you not forgotten that she not only divorced you, but she left you high and dry for your best friend? The man she cheated on you with?”

  “I thought you were my best friend?” I teased.

  “No, I am your best friend now because I would not have had an affair with your ex-wife. Don’t forget she not only ripped your heart out of your chest but threw it to the ground and stomped it into a million pieces.”

  “I haven’t forgotten but it’s been a long time and I think I am at a stage in my life where I can start to forgive her.”

  “A long time ago? It was just a few months ago? Do you honestly think she deserves your forgiveness?” Patrick exclaimed.

  “I think everyone deserves a second chance.” I shrugged.

  “Definitely not her.” Patrick said grabbing his wallet; it was now noon and he was starving. So was I.

  “I’ve moved on, but it doesn’t look like you have.” I joked again as I followed Patrick out of the building.

  Patrick wasn’t wrong about Amy at least not logically. Amy and I had been together for seven years but married for the past three until I caught her in bed one morning with my best friend, Mason. I had come home from work in the middle of the afternoon, which was so unlike me but I had to pick up artwork I had sketched the night before in the home we shared. It was artwork for a potential client. I didn’t normally come home during working hours which undoubtedly served as the perfect time for Amy to plan and participate in her extracurricular activities.

  Amy didn’t even have the heart to defend herself, she didn’t have a heart at all. When I walked in on them during their rendezvous, she looked me in the eye and kept encouraging Mason to keep thrusting into her despite my presence. I swear at one point she looked me square in the eye while she moaned in pleasure. Amy didn’t care anymore and was probably relieved that I finally knew and she didn’t have to sneak around anymore. Amy said that deep down she found herself hoping they would get caught one day.

  I got the last laugh, however. Shortly after our separation, Mason decided it wasn’t as fun when they weren’t sneaking around and ended their coups de grâce, sotospeak.

  “I have nothing to move on from, it’s you who hasn’t. What were you thinking emailing her like that?” Patrick said as he pulled out a ten dollar bill to pay the lunch truck vendor for his chicken salad sandwich and cola. I already had my sandwich and bottled water idling in my hands.

  “Like I said, all I was merely doing was seeing how she was doing. I think enough time has passed to where we could be friends again.” I shrugged.

  “I don’t think any amount of time passing before friendship with Amy should ever be a possibility, Sean. Let her stew in her own mistakes.” Patrick urged after finding the nearest bench we could sit on.

  “So what’s your score for today?” I changed the subject as I bit into my ham and cheese sandwich.

  “This sandwich, I’d probably give it an ‘8’, but the women…ugh. I’d give them a disappointing ‘5’.” Patrick sighed as he stared at his half-eaten sandwich before he dropped it back into the white paper bag it came in.

  “Agreed.”

  Every day during lunch time, Patrick and I would have our lunch at Grand Park in Downtown Los Angeles, walking distance from our office. During our meals, we gave scores to the quality of both female passersby and our lunches. Call it a little sexist, but it helped pass the time. We did this almost every day for the past two years.

  “Don’t you hate it when our lunch is better than the women?” I said with my mouth stuffed full of bread, cheese, mayo and deli meat.

  “Well it all depends on how hungry I am on any particular day.” Patrick shrugged and laughed to himself.

  For me, being the hopeless romantic that I was, I couldn’t help but feel that all too familiar sense of longing every day. Without a great love, life wasn’t the same.

  From the first moment I laid eyes upon her at the Irish bar all those years ago, I knew or at least thought that Amy was the one. Despite her transgressions, a part of me still believed she was. Patrick said I was being naïve, but I would bet every penny I owned on the fact that she was.

  Look at me, I’m just a sucker. Women still looked at me til this day as a Lothario – sexy, macho and swoon worthy but as time passed, I saw it in myself less and less.

  I glanced up at the wooden bridge walkway that hovered over the duck pond, a beautiful blonde angel glided past them as she chatted enthusiastically to the person on the other end of her phone call. Her canary yellow sundress flowed perfectly in the breeze while Patrick and I stared at her exoticness with our mouths gaped open.

  “So much better than my sandwich.” Patrick muttered.

  “I think I’ve just seen an angel. She’s my dream girl.” I said with bated breath.

  Patrick rolled his eyes, “No offense or anything pal but the waiting list is probably a mile long for that one.”

  Disregarding everything and everyone around me, I stood up and waved at the mystery woman in the yellow sundress. The woman, active in her phone conversation glanced my way and smiled.

  “Did you see that?! She just smiled at me!” I exclaimed shaking Patrick by the shoulder in my excitement. “I am a strong believer that nothing can keep you from the woman you are meant to be with!”

  “If you believe that’s the case, go catch up to her and sweep her off her feet. Don’t forget to invite me to your wedding.” Patrick said sarcastically.

  “I don’t need to. If she and I are meant to be together then it will just happen. You know, naturally.” I said as I sat back down.

  “Yeah, just like all of the women you have met, naturally.”

  “Go ahead and laugh. She’s going to be different.” I said satisfied.

  “Right. Whatever you say.” Patrick chuckled to himself.

  Ever the cynic, Patrick knew what he was talking about. I turned into a hard core romantic. I probably always was under the surface but ever since my fall out with Amy, I turned into a serial monogamist. Only problem was, my high expectations caused any potential women I dated these past few months to end things quickly.

  I was on a major losing streak and it was no wonder I was losing my charisma. I was in love with love and Patrick and I still couldn’t really pin down where it started but we both knew how it always ended. Me, heartbroken and that suave alter ego disappearing more and more. The difference was this time I was enamored with a woman I did not know, yet.

  Chapter Two

  BRIDGETTE

  I was running late picking up Kyle but let’s be honest, I was always running late. I swear I have always been an organized person but lately it’s been getting out of hand. It was tough being a single mother.

  “Come on, Bridgette. Get your act together.” I muttered to myself as I checked my makeup in the rear view mirror as shut off the SUV’s engine. I ran my hand one final time through my thick, red curly hair before getting out of the vehicle.

  I ran into the elementary school and down the hall to my son, Kyle’s, classroom. He was sitting quietly at the activities table reading the book about dinosaurs I bought for him last week.

  “Hey, honey.” I said.

  “Hi Mom!” Kyle said with wide eyes and a big smile before returning to his book.

  “Ready to go? I want to get going before I run
into some of the other parents.” I said anxiously.

  “What, mom?” Kyle looked up at me.

  “Nothing, honey. Just talking to myself.”

  “Oh.” Kyle giggled.

  He was a great kid and thankfully turned out alright, so far. I swear that there were some days where he acted like his father. Kyle was a smart and impressionable kid with bright red hair, freckles and a crooked smile. He was getting taller every day and he was already at chest level, in a couple of years he’d probably be chin or cheek level. He was growing so fast.

  As we walked through the elementary school parking lot headed back to our minivan after I retrieved him from his 5th grade classroom, Kyle tugged at the hem of my sky blue dress shirt.

  “Mom, look! That car has been to Water Zone. See the bumper sticker?” Kyle said pointing. It was a familiar cartoon fish bumper sticker.

  “Yeah, how about that?” I smiled endearingly at the 10-year-old.

  Water Zone was one of the premiere amusement parks on the coast of California. Kyle was determined to go ever since he saw the commercial of the amusement park with animated sea creatures, a catchy tune and scenes of families laughing and having a good time on the water rides.

  “But the fish isn’t blue, it’s red.” Kyle pointed out confused.

  “Well, that’s very non-water like.” I confirmed.

  “Uh huh.” Kyle said and then asked, “Mom, do you think there are sharks at Water Zone? Or maybe dolphins?”

  “Maybe there are sharks and dolphins.” I chuckled.

  “Maybe, dad might be there too.” Kyle said nonchalantly.

  I felt a twinge of pain every time Kyle mentioned his father. Scott was no longer in Kyle’s life ever since he left. There were times where I strongly held a belief that he would come back one day, but he hadn’t. Not even a call or any ounce of communication. Everyone told me I should sue for child custody but why get into that debate. We were doing just fine.