The Clover Chapel

by Devney Perry

  THE CLOVER CHAPEL

  Copyright © 2017 by Devney Perry

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-10: 0-9983583-1-2

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9983583-1-4

  No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Editor: Elizabeth Nover, Razor Sharp Editing www.razorsharpediting.com

  Cover Artwork © Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations www.okaycreations.com

  Proofreader: Julie Deaton www.facebook.com/jdproofs

  Formatting: Champagne Formats www.champagneformats.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Other Books

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  “I am not a spoiled brat!”

  The man sitting next to me huffed. “You’re sitting in the corner glaring at the rest of us. You haven’t said a word until now. Every time someone mentions doing something fun, you roll your eyes. Yeah. You’re a spoiled brat.”

  He was right. I was glaring at everyone and hadn’t said a word for over an hour and I may have rolled my eyes a time or two. I definitely had at the mention of going to a male stripper show.

  But this weekend was not going at all as I had planned and, thus, my grumpy mood.

  “I am not a brat. I’m just not having any fun.”

  My friends and I had planned this big spring break trip to Las Vegas to celebrate my birthday tomorrow and our upcoming graduation from Yale. Since all of our previous spring breaks had been spent studying or doing internships, we had decided that for our last, something adventurous and crazy was long overdue.

  I was supposed to be having an amazing time with my girlfriends, making memories that would last a lifetime.

  Instead, I was miserable.

  The last thing I wanted was to be sitting in our stretch limo, crammed into the back corner because now there were four guys crowded in with us.

  My friends, unlike me, were overjoyed to be hanging with this group of strangers. Steffie was sandwiched between two of the men, both of whom were staring at the ample cleavage pouring out of her barely there silver dress. Marian and Alice were hanging off the bad boy, a man wearing a sleeveless shirt to showcase his enormous muscles and plethora of tattoos.

  That left me in the corner, next to a guy who clearly had no issue insulting a stranger.

  “It’s your own fault if you’re not having fun,” he rumbled. “Your friends aren’t afraid to have a good time. It’s not like it’s hard to find. We’re in Vegas.”

  “I’m aware of our location.”

  He was right again. The girls were genuinely having a good time, making the most of this night in Sin City, letting themselves go wild. Why couldn’t I? Sad and defeated, I slumped further into the seat.

  “This was supposed to be our last adventure,” I said. “A crazy weekend together that we’d remember for the rest of our lives. This trip was for us to spend time with each other, but last night, they all found different guys to hook up with and ditched me. And since I didn’t want to have a one-night stand or get plastered by myself at some skeezy bar, I watched TV in our hotel room.”

  “If you want to have a crazy night, you’re going to have to fucking relax. You’re uptight.”

  “I am n—” I started, ready to defend myself again, but stopped. Instead, I turned to the window and muttered the truth. “I know.”

  I expected him to ignore me now and leave me in my corner alone, eventually trying to steal Marian’s or Alice’s attentions away from his bulky friend. So when he wrapped his arm around the back of my shoulders and turned me away from the window, I gasped, surprised both by his touch and his closeness.

  And then I froze.

  When the men had climbed into the limo, I’d been so busy glaring at Steffie for inviting them along that I hadn’t really looked at him. And because he’d sat next to me, I’d only glimpsed his profile.

  Wow, had I missed out. He was striking.

  The vision made my heart pound so hard, its rhythm echoed through my whole body. His hazel eyes were framed with thick, dark lashes. His jaw was covered with a short, dark brown beard. I bet it was soft and would tickle if he kissed the side of my neck—or other places.

  His nose was straight with a small bump at the bridge. His hair was shaggy and overly long, but the messy look didn’t make him look sloppy. It was sexy and carefree. He didn’t give a shit if his hair was a mess.

  I gripped the hem of my dress to keep my hands from reaching up and threading my fingers through the thick strands. Then I forced myself to inhale. His gorgeous face alone had made me dizzy. He was by far the most handsome man in his group, which was saying something because my friends were not fawning over the other guys for no reason.

  “I can help with that,” he said, his mouth turning up at one side in a crooked grin that made my belly dip.

  “What?” I was so taken by his magnificent features, I’d forgotten what I’d said.

  At my question, his mouth widened into a full-blown smile. Beneath his full lips were perfectly straight, white teeth. I wanted to kiss that mouth. I’d never kissed a man with such a beautiful smile before.

  “If you keep looking at my mouth, I’m going to kiss you,” he said.

  I studied his lips as he formed the words, unable to pull my eyes away from his mouth. I wanted that. I wanted him to kiss me so badly, my body started trembling. The attraction I felt for him was the strongest, most intense feeling I’d ever had.

  “Not yet,” he whispered.

  I tore my gaze from his mouth and looked into his beautiful eyes. Rimmed with a circle of dark gray, the centers were sage green flecked with golden brown. Even in the muted limousine light, the colors were vibrant and bold.

  “Do you still want an adventure?”

  I blinked a couple of times, forcing myself out of my trance. “Yes,” I whispered, surprised at both my answer and that I was actually able to get the word out.

  His smile got bigger. “I can do that.”

  He might be a stranger, but I felt safe by his side. No matter what we did tonight, it would be amazing just because it was with him.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Emmeline Austin.”

  “Emmy. I’m Nick Slater.”

  “Have you ever been on a roller coaster?” Nick asked as the limo sped away from the curb.

  “Once, when I was younger. It scared me though and I didn’t like it.” I hadn’t been scared of the heights, but the insane speed and violent spins had brought me near to tears.

  “Roller c
oaster it is then.”

  “Did you not just hear me tell you that it scared me?”

  “Sure.” He shrugged. “But this is an adventure. And any adventure worth having is a little scary.”

  “How about drinks instead? Or we could catch a show?”

  He grabbed my hand. “Come on, Emmy. We’re going for a ride.”

  I didn’t miss his cheesy innuendo so I gave him my best eye roll while trudging along behind him.

  With a hard tug, he pulled me to his side. Never letting go of my hand, we walked side by side along the crowded sidewalk. My small hand fit in his large grip perfectly and my fingers naturally laced through his.

  “Up there. That’s our ride,” he said, raising our linked hands to point out the Stratosphere hotel.

  I looked way, way up. A roller coaster car circled the top of the skyscraper. “No. No way. Roller coasters that start at ground level are scary enough. I don’t need to experience one thirty stories up.”

  “I dare you to do it.”

  “A dare? We’re not in middle school, Nick.”

  He stopped walking and stepped right into my space, his minty breath hit my cheek. “A dare’s a dare, Emmy. No matter how old you are. You can tell a lot about a person by their reaction to a dare.”

  A flush of warmth spread through my cheeks at his intimate tone and closeness. My heart started to race again. His vibrant eyes were looking down at me with such intensity, my worries and reservations all disappeared. As long as I could look into those eyes, everything would be okay.

  “Fun?” Nick asked, helping me out of the roller coaster car.

  “Yes.” The second the ride had ended, a huge smile had broken across my face.

  “Good. Up next we’re going to a strip club.”

  “Absolutely not. I have no desire to watch you ogle perfectly plasticized, naked women as they dance around in front of you.”

  A crooked grin stretched across his mouth. “Dare you.”

  “Oh for the love . . .” I muttered and stomped past him, dragging him along behind me. “Let’s go.”

  Nick took the lead when we hit the sidewalk and maneuvered us to our show. I was so happy to be with him, still on a high from the roller coaster, I blanked out the world around us and stuck tightly to his side. When we got close, he asked me to close my eyes and to trust him.

  “Okay. Open your eyes, Emmy,” he said against my ear, sending a shiver down my neck.

  The smile on my face vanished when I opened my eyes. Somehow he had managed to shield me from the casino signs because, had I seen where he was taking me, I would have vehemently protested.

  “What?” My feet refused to step further into the room. We had just walked through the doors to Thunder From Down Under. “I thought you said we were going to a strip club.”

  “We are. You just assumed I meant female strippers.”

  “I am not watching greased-up men dressed like the Village People gyrate on stage.”

  “Too late. Show starts in three minutes. Let’s grab a quick drink and then go to our seats,” he said, dragging me to the bar.

  Nick lifted his chin, summoning the female bartender, who ignored the masses of women surrounding us and came directly to him. She was probably glad to have a break from the estrogen and serve the one and only man at this ridiculous show. It didn’t hurt that Nick was smoking hot.

  “Four lemon drops. Two shots of Jack straight up,” Nick ordered. One minute later, all six shots were lined up in front of us.

  “Here you go, Emmy. Get to it.” He pointed to the lemon drops.

  “I can’t take four shots! I’ll puke!” That comment got me strange looks from the horde of women close by.

  “Hurry up,” he said, drumming his fingers on the bar. “You’re going to want those.”

  “What about you?”

  He answered by taking the whiskey shots and throwing them back, one right after the other.

  If I didn’t “get to it,” he would just dare me again, so I reluctantly picked up one glass and set the sugar-covered rim on my lips.

  After a fortifying breath, I tipped my head back and let the sweet liquid roll straight down my throat, burning all the way to my belly. I grimaced but managed to repeat the process with the other three shots.

  “I didn’t even have to dare you that time. You’re relaxing, Emmy.” Nick grinned, leading me away from the bar and to our VIP section seats.

  I sank into a moderately cushioned, straight-backed chair, then leaned over to whisper in Nick’s ear. “No judgment if you are, maybe I’ve been misreading things between us, but is this your way of telling me that you’re gay?”

  He threw his head back and laughed into the air above us. His laugh was amazing. Rich. Deep. Honest.

  And long.

  He kept at it until the show started and his sound was masked by the thumping music and the audience’s catcalls. When he finally stopped laughing, he turned and placed both hands on my jaw. His large hands framed my face completely.

  I stared at his mouth, waiting to see what he was going to say, but instead of speaking, he licked his lips, sending tingles straight to my center. Then his mouth came crashing down on mine, his soft lips taking over, coaxing my mouth open so he could dip his tongue inside for a taste.

  Before I could kiss him back, he pulled back an inch.

  “Does that answer your question?” His hands were still framing my face but I managed a nod. He leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose before turning back to the stage.

  I stared, unblinking, at his profile, only seeing the show peripherally. A half-naked man had just stripped off his shirt and was parading around in a fireman’s hat and baggy pants.

  I barely heard the screams when the stripper started unbuttoning his pants. The beat of my own heart and the rush of blood in my ears were deafening. I was in shock. The way Nick’s lips had moved on mine and the gentle caress of his tongue had been like no other kiss I’d ever had.

  So preoccupied, I jumped when a hand landed on the back of my chair. I turned to see what was happening a millisecond before a man’s arm pulled me from my seat and out of the VIP section.

  “Have fun!” Nick called before I was whisked up on stage by a stripper dressed as a police officer.

  “No way!” I shouted, pulling away from the fake cop. My feet were pointed toward the exit, but I didn’t get two steps into my escape before the nearly naked fireman and the now-shirtless police officer pushed me down into a chair, center stage.

  I sat, mortified, as both of them started shaking their manly bits in my face and dry humping my legs. The laughter and the shouts from the audience rang loudly in my ears as my face turned violently red. And above all of the female noise was Nick’s booming male laugh.

  Squinting through the bright stage lights, I searched for him in the audience. I lost sight when a third stripper joined the show, this one dressed in a cowboy hat and brown briefs printed with horseshoes.

  Nick had been right. I had needed those four shots.

  After an eternity, I was released from that torturous chair but I didn’t go back to Nick. I marched straight to the now-deserted bar, where I promptly ordered another two shots.

  “You did good, Emmy,” Nick said when he reached my side. “But I think that’s enough crazy for a while. Feel like gambling?”

  “If that means we get to leave here, then absolutely, yes.”

  He bent down and placed a short, sweet kiss on my forehead. “Let’s go.”

  Hand in hand, we walked out of my first and, hopefully, only male strip show to continue our Vegas adventure.

  The desert night air had cooled but it was still warm enough that walking in my little black dress was comfortable. I’d bought this dress special for the trip, hoping it would be sexy enough that I wouldn’t look like a librarian compared to Steffie’s wardrobe of slinky dresses and midriff-baring halter tops. It had capped sleeves and a plunging neckline that framed what little cleavage I had. Its short a
nd tight fit gave my petite frame the illusion of curves.

  Most of the men around us were dressed in full suits. Just the type of men my father would have expected to see me walking with. If he saw me now, strolling along with Nick, his face would give me that look of disapproval I was all too familiar with.

  Nick was dressed in a solid black T-shirt that was strung tightly across his broad chest. When he crossed his arms, it cinched around his large biceps, displaying all the contours of his chiseled frame. He wore a pair of faded jeans that sat perfectly on his hips and muscled thighs. Not to mention the wondrous things they did for his ass.

  He looked better than any of the suit-clad men we passed.

  Wanting to know more about my handsome new acquaintance, I asked, “Where do you live?”

  “Colorado.”

  “Oh.” I frowned. Colorado and Connecticut were on opposite sides of the country.

  “What are you studying?” he asked.

  “Marketing and public relations.”

  “That’s what you want to do?”

  Taking a deep breath, I told him something that only Steffie knew. “No. But my father is expecting me to go work for his political fundraising company. I hate it, actually. It feels like I’m learning how to be fake and talk people out of their money. I always wanted to be a teacher. I really love kids, but that just isn’t a possibility for me.”

  “Life’s short, Emmy. Do what makes you happy.”

  My father’s acceptance would make me happy and the only way I’d get it was by obeying his wishes.

  Not wanting to dive into that depressing topic, I changed the subject. “What about you, Nick? Do you do something that makes you happy?”

  His body tensed and he took a moment before answering. “Kind of.” His tone was final and there would be no further explanation.

  The rest of our walk to the casino was in silence, but Nick never once let go of my hand. The more we walked, the firmer his grip became, and by the time we sat down at a blackjack table, both of us had shrugged off our moods and were back to smiling and laughing. Three hundred dollars later, I had a vague sense of the rules and could add “very, very bad at blackjack” to my resume.