by Jillian Neal
Gypsy Hope
By Jillian Neal
Gypsy Heat
Written by Jillian Neal
Cover Design by Hang Lee
Edited by Chasity Jenkins-Patrick
Copyright © 2015 Jillian Neal
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincident
Published by Realm Press
36 South Court Square
Suite 300
Newnan GA 30263
http://realmpress.net/
ISBN 978-1-940174-25-9
Library of Congress Control Number: 2015940792
First Edition
First Printing – September 2015
Other works by Jillian Neal
The Gifted Realm Series
Within The Realm
Lessons Learned
Every Action
Rock Bottom
An Angel All His Own
All But Lost
The Quelling Tide
Gypsy Beach Series
Gypsy Beach
Gypsy Love
Gypsy Heat
To the heroes that help.
The librarians, the teachers, the counselors,
the people that step in when others won’t.
The heroes to children everywhere
that never get to wear a cape.
“Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.”
-Desmond Tutu
Table Of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
One
Hope Hendrix needed to have sex. Not the epically disastrous sex she’d already had, either, but the mind-blowing sex her every-other-Thursday night book club friends were presently raving about. The kind the romance novels she loved to devour proclaimed possible. The kind that sizzled on the pages of the erotic novel the book club was reading. Somewhere between attempting to style her hair exactly like Tiffani Thiessen’s—from the 90210, not Saved by the Bell years—killing herself to get outstanding grades, trying to take care of her sister, Skye, minding her aunt’s archaic ideas about proper decorum for girls, getting through college in three years, and opening her own bookstore, she’d somehow forgotten to have good sex.
Now, she was 26, and quite possibly the least experienced person she knew. She’d finally come to accept that her stringy blonde, baby-fine hair was never going to do that sexy, shoulder-length, edgy thing, but never having an orgasm, or any fulfilling bedroom experience at all—she just couldn’t accept that.
“Okay, you all know that I love Arley Copeland’s books as much as you do. All I’m saying is that her heroine got to have more orgasms in this book than I’ve had all freaking summer. I’m jealous. It’s getting to me,” Sophie DePriest huffed before downing another gulp of Sauvignon Blanc.
Hope joined her friends’ laughter, but didn’t comment. Sophie may not have had many orgasms in the last few months, but at least she’d had some. Her dry spells would be some kind of bountiful harvest for Hope.
With a sigh, Hope stood and headed to the storeroom of her beloved little beachside bookstore, Bandana Books. She returned with another bottle of wine, Pinot this time, and settled into the worn tweed sofa she’d picked up off of Craig’s List so patrons to her store would have a place to get lost deep between the covers of a book. That had been the idea, at least. Unfortunately, most of them used the sofa to flip through a book or magazine without ever making a purchase.
Discreetly, Hope slid to her left to cover the slight tear in the fabric with her thigh while she refilled a few of the empty glasses. She couldn’t afford to recover the sofa. She couldn’t really even afford the wine and snacks for her book club, but she hated to complain. She loved books and authors of all kinds. Her own bookstore was where she belonged … she hoped.
“Okay, but what did you think of the silk robe belt as a tie-up scene?” Hope felt her pale cheeks begin to heat from the wine and the discussion. “I’ve met Arley. I always wonder if she and her fiancée do that, or if she just comes up with it off the top of her head when she writes.”
“That scene is responsible for me attacking Kevin in bed four times in the last three days, so I’d say he’s a big fan.” Julie Morgan laughed hysterically, letting everyone know she wasn’t exaggerating.
Hope grinned. Kevin and Julie always made her wistful. They’d been married for five years, had adorable twin boys, and were still hot for each other. They had most everything she longed for. As always, whenever Hope considered marriage, she reminded herself that maintaining a decent dating relationship would be an excellent first step, and that always meant her next thought was going to be … Brock Camden. She’d just had breakfast with him that morning at Mac and Molly’s Surf, Turf, and Coffee shop, but she already missed him. Lately, he’d been busy helping Ryan McNamara with the new hotel that was going in on the other side of Gypsy Beach, the tiny, bohemian, North Carolina, beach town that had raised Hope. The hotel was a big job, and Brock was Ryan’s go-to roofer and framer.
She’d been swooning over him since ninth grade when he’d actually asked her to be his lab partner in biology. Hope always took advanced courses. She was one of the only freshmen in the class. Brock was a year older.
She could still recall the dumbfounded awe that had worked through her puberty-laden body when the star receiver for the Wellsley High football team asked if she’d like to sit with him at that lab table. The cool black laminate top that she’d clung to as she’d taken the seat had likely been what kept her from spontaneously combusting when he’d winked at her. No one like Brock had ever noticed her before that moment. And yet now, all these years later, they were still great friends. If Hope were being honest, as much as she adored the women seated around her in her book club, Brock was her best friend.
“Well, you brought it up, Hope, so what did you think of it?” Sophie demanded, effectively ripping her out of the past and thrusting her firmly into the present.
Grinning, Hope set her wine glass down on the table and considered. “Honestly, that’s the thing I love most about Arley’s writing. She’s able to put so much emotion into her work that you’re onboard with whatever the couple is doing. He was tying her up, and honestly, I thought the whole thing was very intimate and loving. If an author can’t effectively capture the emotions of both of the people involved, it comes off as cold and abusive, but hers never read that way. She’s my favorite erotic writer. In fact, I’m not reading any more BDSM books unless the relationship is healthy. It can be healthy and seductive, and should be for all parties involved not just the creepy, control-freak, sadistic guys.”
“Hear, hear!” Jana Evans, the fourth member of the Guilty Pleasures book club, lifted her wine glass. Julie and Sophie nodded their agreement as a wicked glint lit Sophie’s sky-blue eyes. “I’m taking a group poll. Who here has either tied up a guy and had their way with him, or
has let some guy tie you down and banged your brains out? Obviously, our little Hope-y hasn’t, but how about you two?”
Hope tried not to let the comment get to her. She often exaggerated her experiences when talking to her friends, but they all knew she read about sex a lot more than she actually had it. That problem didn’t just cover sex. It pretty much applied to her entire life. She read about everything, but never did anything.
Rolling her eyes, Julie laughed. “How the heck do you think I got Kev to sleep with me again after we birthed twins? We were terrified to touch each other. Two is enough. He has Superman sperm or something. At that point, we were certain we’d never sleep again, so I finally had to tie him down, show him the paperwork I made Doc Thompson sign swearing that he’d tied my tubes, and rode him cowgirl-style until we both temporarily forgot how freaking exhausted we were.”
The group cracked up, but Hope doubted Julie had to work quite that hard to get Kevin in bed. He always seemed to be drooling over her. Kevin was a baseball coach at Wellsley High, the high school they’d all attended. Julie had been the cheerleading coach right up until the moment they’d gotten pregnant with twins and she could no longer see her feet.
Before anymore confessions could be made, thunder rumbled out over the Barrier Islands that buffeted Gypsy Beach from the stronger tides. A streak of lightning fractured the sky.
“Oh, no.” Hope groaned as she frantically raced to the large plate-glass windows and tried to determine how long it would take the storm to reach them.
*****
Brock Camden sat at a table in Whiskey Dave’s Sportsbar, nursing his second beer and contemplating approximately how hard he’d have to smash his head into the cheap wood-grain laminate to knock himself out cold. It seemed the only way to avoid hearing Matt Logan, Seth Moyar, and Ben Davis retell the story of how they’d taken Wellsley High all the way to the state championship back in the day, and how Brock’s impossible, behind-the-back catch and seventy-yard touchdown had brought home the trophy. It was eight fucking years ago. Why must they still talk about it every single time they all got together? Didn’t anyone have anything noteworthy to discuss that had happened in the last decade? His best high-school friends may want to revel in their heyday, but Brock would prefer to never think about the sham that had been his high school career ever again.
“And here’s another round for the heroes of Gypsy Beach.” Dave, the owner and head bartender, placed several additional pitchers of beer before them. Brock fought not to vomit. The entire stupid town would never forget that championship game. Pictures of it were plastered all over the bar. Brock could never escape his legacy, no matter how hard he tried.
Turning to stare out the large windows that constructed the front of the only sports bar between Gypsy Beach and Wilmington, Brock noted the way the lightning danced in the distance. He grimaced and pulled his phone from his pocket to make sure she hadn’t already tried to call. Looked to be a heck of a storm. Late summer storms in Gypsy Beach always were—beautiful in their power, quick in their deluge, and a disaster for Hope.
“Hey, I’m gonna head on.” He threw down two tens even though he’d never received a bill from Dave, who always insisted that it was a pleasure to serve the town heroes. Brock always insisted on paying anyway.
“Nah, not yet! We haven’t even gotten to the no-hitter you pitched junior year,” Seth scoffed.
Brock rolled his eyes automatically. “Are those stories ever going to get old? No one gives a fuck what I did in high school.”
“He’s in a bad mood. Needs to get laid,” Matt chuckled derisively.
Feeling no need to respond to the truthfulness of that, Brock slung his chair into the table and turned to leave.
“Hey, wait. Nate said he’d take us out Saturday at half price since the season’s over. You in?” Matt urged as Brock headed towards the parking lot.
Oh yeah, that’s what he wanted to do. Spend all day Saturday stuck out on a fishing boat listening to more remembrances he wanted desperately to forget. He turned back briefly. “Nah, I can’t. I’m hanging out with Hope.” He wasn’t certain that was true. They didn’t have anything planned, but if nothing else, he could go to her house, watch a movie or something.
“Man, why don’t you just nail her and get her out of your system? You’ve been hanging out with her for years. She cannot possibly be that interesting. Just get a blow-up doll,” Seth chanted derisively.
Brock’s eyes narrowed. He fought the desperate urge to slam his fist into Seth’s smug face. “Shut the fuck up, Seth. She’s one of my best friends. What’s it to you, anyway?”
“Don’t lie, man. You’ve had a thing for Hope Hendrix since before you caught that interception. Why not just ask her out?” Matt tried to smooth over Seth’s crude remark.
“I’m leaving.” Brock offered a half wave and headed out. There were a million reasons he couldn’t ask Hope out, none of which he would ever get into with those morons, or anyone else for that matter. She was so far out of his league it wasn’t even funny. He counted himself lucky that she always seemed to want to hang with him. She was sweet, funny, smart as hell, and beautiful. He loved the way she just said whatever she was thinking. She was unlike any other woman he’d ever been around. He never had to guess with her. She was open and honest with him, and somehow seemed to think he was smart. When she asked his opinion, he was always dumbfounded. She was perfect and deserved so much more than he could ever give her. And she always has her head stuck in a book. That was the biggest problem, he reminded himself before he cranked his F-150 and headed back towards the shore.
He couldn’t make out one word of all of those books she read without end. That meant doing anything more than being Hope’s friend was absolutely out of the question.
*******
“Hope, here.” Sophie downed the last half of her glass of wine and set the glass on top of the mysteries shelf to catch yet another slow drip. “You have got to get this roof fixed!”
“I know, I know,” Hope called from the storeroom where she was mopping up the drenched counter and setting out her collection of old pots and buckets to catch the incoming downpour. A slight grin formed on her features. An odd response to the disaster before her, for sure, but she couldn’t help it.
“What are you grinning about?” Sophie huffed as she and Jana quickly removed the cheese tray and replaced it with another bucket.
“Because she knows Brock is about to call and check on her, and with the insurance money from the storm last fall, and the money she’s been saving up all summer, she can now afford a new roof, which means Brock Camden and all of his extreme cowboy gorgeousness will be at her shop for the next week or so. She wants to husk his corn, so to speak,” Jana answered.
Fevered heat now blazed in Hope’s pale cheeks as she tried to catch her breath from racing around the shop to make sure all of the leaks were covered. She hated that when she blushed a slight remnant of the freckles that had dotted her complexion as a child reappeared. “Jana, I’ve been friends with Brock for years. I can’t go out with him … no matter how badly I might want to.” Defeat weighted her entire form.
“Girl, do you know how many men would love a fuck-a-friend plan for a few weeks, or heck, a few months with no strings attached? Friends with benefits. It’s practically de rigueur now. Offer him that. This is what happens when you brainiacs overthink everything. Let sex be sex. Let Brock Camden work his magic muscles, cowboy drawl, and his legendary bedroom skills over your body. When it runs its course, go back to being friends.” Sophie’s tone was aggravatingly matter-of-fact, as if her suggestion were a perfectly logical solution to Hope’s problem.
“Soph.” Julie rolled her eyes. “Rein in the randy, okay?” She turned to Hope and offered her a kind smile. “You know Kev and I were friends for years before we finally started dating. We were both afraid if it didn’t work that we’d end up losing the friendship. I regret all of those years now, Hope. It was so worth taking a chance,
and if you want more out of the relationship, you’ll always wonder. Why not take a chance? Men are basically very tall, muscular little boys. Sometimes you have to tell them or show them what they want. You already know he adores you. Why not just see if there’s more to this? What if it turns out to be more perfect than you’ve even been imagining all these years? And honestly, if you never do anything about your feelings for Brock, you’re going to end up regretting it for the rest of your life. Even if he isn’t the one, you’ll always wonder. That’s not good, and it’s certainly not fair to the right guy if it isn’t Brock. If he is the one, being married to your best friend, well, it just doesn’t get any better than that. I want that for you and for Brock. You both deserve that.”
“Hmm, sounds very much like what I’ve been telling you for the last decade or so.” Jana linked arms with Julie in a show of solidarity.
“You two hang out all the time; just try to feel him out about it before you feel him up,” Sophie laughed.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll think about it,” Hope sighed. “Get out of here. I’ll clean up.”
Julie’s words tossed and pitched in her mind. Their fury matched the drenching rain outside. She was right, and Hope was sick and tired of never actually living life. She’d spent all of her teenage years and most of her twenties hiding between the covers of books. It was high time she actually experienced something for herself instead of vicariously through a heroine.
And even if Julie and Kev’s story was only fodder for a romance novel and marriage wasn’t the ending she was going to get, Sophie’s idea wasn’t necessarily a bad one. At least she’d know if there could be more to her and Brock than a good friendship. He certainly had plenty of experience he could bring to her bed. She had no doubt that Brock could take her to completely undiscovered sexual heights. He wouldn’t stop until she’d climaxed repeatedly and he was thoroughly spent. Brock Camden never left any job undone. His bedroom skills were legendary in high school, and she’d endured standing by and watching him sweet talk dozens of women into his bed since then. Hope tried to dam back the feelings of betrayal. He certainly wasn’t hers to feel jealous over, but she also wasn’t that mousy little know-it-all from high school anymore.
