Charmed

by Woods, L. R.

  The driver calls out, “Where to first?”

  I gaze at Evan, my heart fuller than I ever thought possible. I feel my eyes going crazy and my breathing picking up. Without looking at the driver but instead into the green pools that hold my forever, I reply, “Vegas. I’m getting married to my Prince by the King himself.”

  Evan laughs and pulls me to him, crushing his lips to mine. And as we ride off into the sunset, I vow to never doubt true love again.

  THE END

  I hope you enjoyed the first book of the 23 Strokes Series. Drew and Penny’s story is up next, so keep reading for a glimpse of Enticed, available early Summer 2017.

  Chapter 1

  Present Day

  Penny

  “I’ll have the small salad with grilled chicken, no cheese, and light dressing on the side,” Donald replies to the server and I’m ready to bolt, not ten minutes into this date.

  “And you, miss?” Sally, our server, asks as she turns to me trying, unsuccessfully, to hide an eye roll. Yeah, I’m right there with you, Sally.

  “Yes, I’ll have the 8oz ribeye, medium rare with the fully loaded baked potato, and a caesar salad on the side. And more bread when you get a chance.” Now, that’s how you order.

  Donald is staring at me with wide eyes. I keep mine on his, fully satisfied with myself. I’ll be damned if I’m ordering a salad or chicken in a steak house. Why did he even bring me to a steak house if he wanted chicken? It makes about as much sense as me agreeing to go on a date with this guy in the first place.

  We met in line at the Coffee House immediately after I read a date and time on a text message from Drew. I must have had a strange look on my face because Donald leaned over and asked if everything was alright. I replied, “yes”, and he took it as an invitation to keep talking.

  I watched him, nodding my head, but not listening. I was too busy trying to figure out what I was feeling inside from reading the text. I had all kinds of thoughts and emotions running around in my head, and next thing I knew, I had agreed to dinner with Donald, the insurance salesman. That’s why feelings and dating should never go hand in hand.

  Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Dating choices should have emotions tied to them. But I prefer to think of dates in terms of not having to come up with activities for myself rather than emotional investments. And I like to keep myself busy, so I go on a lot of dates.

  If it were left up to me, I’d probably sit around all day watching teen vampire dramas and Superman movies eating Cheetos or chips and salsa, weighing in at around 400 pounds. So, if a guy wants to take me rock climbing, diving, or even just out for dinner, who am I to say no.

  And I rarely say no, unless I can tell the guy is searching for his Mrs. Right. Nobody wants that drama. It’s fun meeting new people and getting a glimpse of what makes them tick. Men are like the box of chocolates quote, “you never know what you’re going to get.” And I enjoy biting in and seeing what flavor life has in store for me each and every time.

  But, I rarely find any one date so exciting that I’m compelled to make another, which is another reason I date a lot. Why should you limit yourself? Drew was the one exception and that has become a disaster, so I’m sticking with what works. Many dates and fun sex.

  But back to my current date. “So, Donnie, what’s it like selling insurance?” I really don’t care but someone’s got to keep this thing going.

  “It’s Donald and it keeps me busy. You have your car insurance, home insurance, flood insurance, renter’s insurance, life insurance, personal property insurance. I really could go on and on.”

  I’m sure he could, I think to myself, and he does just that, adding, “And it’s so important. Life without proper insurance is no way to live. Do you feel you are covered in case of a disaster?” He looks at me expectantly.

  Well, I’m certainly not covered for the disaster that is this date, but I reply, “Yes, I feel I’ve got it under control.”

  “You know, people think they are covered, but most are not. I could give you a review if you’d like. In fact, we could go over it now. I’m sure I could help.”

  His eyes are lit up and I almost feel sorry for the guy. He’s cute in a completely average type of way. And I’m sure there is a lady somewhere just dying to be reviewed, but as for me, I need out of this restaurant pronto.

  Sally comes back over, setting our dinner plates in front of us and I figure I might as well stay long enough to eat my meal. Donald’s eyes are wide again as I dig in without responding to his question.

  Ok, I admit, I’m lacking what my mother would call social graces, but I love to eat and any good Texas girl appreciates her steak. As the aroma wafted to me, I let out a small moan. When the first bite hit my tongue, another one escaped me. I glance over to Donald and his fork full of lettuce is held halfway between his plate and his mouth. His eyes are locked on my lips and I smile as I chew.

  Men are just too easy. I didn’t even mean to do that and I’ve got him right where I would want him, if I wanted him. But at this point, I only want to finish this meal and get out of here. Kimber, my best girl, said she and Evan were having people over tonight to hang out in the pool and since I’m not going to take Donald home, I might as well try my luck over there. Wonder if she has pool insurance?

  We finish the rest of the meal in relative silence and as we are walking out to our cars, Donald asks me again if I need that review. I politely say no. He says goodbye and walks to his car. Guess he wasn’t feeling it after all.

  I shrug, hop into my ride, and call Kimber. She doesn’t answer so I leave a message. “Hey, girl, I’m heading that way. Let me know if I need to pick up anything.”

  She hasn’t called back by the time I turn onto her street and I can see why. It’s lined with cars on both sides, making it nearly impossible to get down to the driveway. This is a common occurrence these days. Having the lead singer of 23 Strokes take up residence in Mills Point has created quite the uproar in this usually quiet town and Evan and Kimber add to it by having parties all the time.

  Evan wants to be a friendly neighbor and it works for him. The town loves having him here, so whenever reporters come knocking, no one will tell them anything. Most townies will run them off before they even get the first question out. He created a whole security team one party at a time.

  Luckily, I have my own spot in the front yard when things get this crazy and the garage is blocked. I drive my Camry over the grassy lawn and up to the front door. Perfect. In addition to lacking social graces, I also lack shame. Who has time for it?

  I hop out and walk right on in, surveying the house like it’s the first time I’ve ever been here. It’s a big house. Seven bedrooms, ten baths, pool, workout room, recording studio, media room, you name it this place has it. But that’s not what amazes me time and time again. It’s the fact that it is completely Kimber and Evan.

  There are pictures of them hugging, kissing, or in each other’s arms in every corner of each room. And everywhere else are pictures of his band 23 Strokes, me, and Kimber’s parents. I’m sure Evan has awards and other paraphernalia from his success, but not one of them is on display. You only need to take two steps inside this home to understand what is important to them.

  Kimber and Evan spent seven years apart because of a misunderstanding his band manger compounded by lying to them about it. Back when we were in college, I gave her a pretty hard time about the relationship because I was sure he was just using her for sex, but after they reunited anyone can see they have the real deal. Soul mates if you were one to believe in that sort of thing. Kimber does. I don’t.

  Soul mates is a nice idea, but I think most people are together because they don’t want to be alone or they think that’s what they should be doing by a certain point in a relationship. They may think they love each other, but I doubt it. You only have to see a couple who has it all figured out once, to realize that 90% of the rest don’t.

  And love is an easy word to throw a
round without having any idea what it really means. I’m sure my dad told my mom he loved her right up until he left her with a three year old and nothing more than a rusted out station wagon. Turns out, he also loved another woman he called his wife that he never actually divorced. I don’t have any memory of it, but we lived in that station wagon for almost five months before Mom was able to get enough money together for a small apartment.

  After that, Mom vowed to never depend on a man or anyone else for that matter. You can only count on yourself and men weren’t made for the long-term, she would tell me over and over. But I guess somewhere along the way she decided that she would turn the tables. Now, she tells old rich men she loves them and they keep her comfortable.

  Drew recently said he was falling in love with me years ago, but back then, I found him with a groupie riding his dick and a surprised look on his face. I’m a lucky girl to have that love, am I right, ladies?

  Not that I was upset he was with someone else. Back then, I was only upset that he broke our pact. It was fun and kept life interesting. Now, I’m just glad I dodged that bullet. He keeps texting me, but I ignore him because now that he’s admitted he loved me, the pact is officially broken again. No feelings were my number one rule.

  As I make my way through the house, I notice Kimber standing in the kitchen, fumbling around with the blender that’s been set up on the island with some ice, liquor, and mixers. For a bar owner, you’d think she’d be better at handling it than she is right now. But, when she turns to me, I immediately see what the problem is.

  “Penny, my biotch. I thought you had a date! Come here and give me some love, girl,” she shouts out.

  Wow, drunk Kimber is on deck and everyone better watch out. This girl gets crazy on a normal day. Drunk...well, guys better watch their balls.

  “I left you a voicemail saying I was coming,” I reply, walking over and giving her a hug.

  “I didn’t get it. Where is my phone?” She searches for her phone in her bikini bottoms and when she doesn’t find it, she starts grabbing her top as if those two small triangles of fabric would be able to hold anything more than boobs. Evan comes running in from behind me, taking her mouth and moving his hand into her bottoms.

  “Ewww. Can you wait until I leave please!” I screech out, but I’m not really disgusted. I’m not saying I want to see it, but it does my heart good to see Kimber finally happy.

  Evan turns to me. “Sorry, Tall Girl. A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do. And right now, I’ve got to do my wife.”

  Evan has always called me Tall Girl because on the night we met, that was the first thing he thought when he saw me. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but either way, I’m Tall Girl to him.

  “And on that note, I’m going to head out to the pool,” I laugh out.

  I start walking out of the room when I hear Kimber yell, “Wait, I need to tell you...”

  I glance back to see her bent over the island, Evan up behind her so I quicken my pace, not hearing the end of her sentence. Whatever she needs to tell me can wait or I’m seeing way more of both of them then I will ever want to see. Bleck!

  I decide to make a lap around the yard before hitting up the pool house where she keeps the extra swimsuits since I don’t have mine. As I walk, I scan the crowd for any potentials. There are a lot of hotties here. Some have already been tried on for size, but there are a fair number I don’t recognize, which is strange because between managing The Lucky Charm and my dating life, I usually know more people than this. Not that I’m complaining. The playing field looks good.

  The Lucky Charm is the bar that Kimber owns and I manage. It’s a special kind of place and most anyone can feel it when they walk through the door. Magic as Kimber calls it. I call it fun. No need to get caught up in one of her fantasies.

  I make my way into the pool house and stop dead in my tracks, my eyes opening wider to take in the scene. My feet lock into place, holding me like a statue as I stare at the most gorgeous man I have ever laid eyes on. My heart quickens and my eyes rake over every inch of him.

  His bare chest is hard and strong, filled with tribal tattoos over his sun-kissed skin. I cast my eyes downward to a perfect set of six-pack abs that are contracting and releasing, causing my mouth to water. His right arm is covered in more of the same tribal art snaking all the way down to his hand, which is wrapped around a girl’s waist. His golden blonde shaggy hair is falling into his face, covering most of its beauty, his head tilted down to the girl’s back. I don’t need to see his eyes to know they are honey brown with flecks of green that sparkle when he laughs.

  Why, you ask, do I know the eye color of this perfect specimen of the male form? I’ll tell you why. Because, once again, I have walked in on Drew Beckett screwing a groupie whore.