A Force of Nature (A Tryst of Fate Series Novel - Book 2)

by Kara Liane

  Caleb Daniels is a thirty-four-year-old divorce lawyer who is definitely ready to settle down. He’s been on the prowl for many years, searching for the right woman. His immense attraction to cougars makes things equally interesting and frustrating for him. Chance encounters with Liz have more than sparked his interest—and sparked his libido unlike anything he’s ever experienced. Liz thinks she’s gaining a friend in Caleb, but he’s only biding his time until he can strike a deal with her heart, body, and mind. Will Liz let him nurse her back, or will she sentence Caleb to a broken heart? See what happens when court is in session for these two!

  Chapter 1: Dead End

  Liezel

  February 22, 2018

  He’s dead. My husband is dead. I know I’m supposed to feel something, but I don’t. Maybe if I analyzed my feelings a little more, I could try to feel some sort of guilt, remorse, or sorrow. I would mourn the loss of the father my children no longer have, but he wasn’t a good father, so that’s a moot point. Come to think of it, he wasn’t a good husband either. He was nothing. Just took up space in our house. I made it a home; he made it unbearable.

  God, I probably sound like the most evil woman, but I swear I am not. I feel guilty for not missing him. I feel remorse for not trying to help him more, even though he dug that grave long before the end came for him. And the sorrow? Well, I’m sad that I’m lonely despite having my kids; I have been lonely for years. I don’t remember what it’s like to feel a man’s touch—to feel a man’s anything, for that matter.

  I’ve watched a love that continues to grow and strengthen between my boss and his wife for the past few years, and I have been torn sitting on the sidelines. Torn because, on one hand, I am beyond thrilled that he found happiness with the most amazing woman and forged a life he deserves. But on the other hand, I am jealous of the life he has. For I could not—cannot—give that happy life to myself or my teenage children, and it’s eating me alive.

  I just attended my husband’s funeral, and here I sit on my bed while I imagine everyone is downstairs snacking on the food I prepared for the reception. They probably think I came up here to my bedroom to collect myself because of the grief, but that’s not really correct. I am a monster for not mourning the man himself. But William is not a man I will miss. He left me long ago, not the other way around. He is the monster.

  The damn bottle became his mistress. The bottle became his only love. The bottle became his life. I was never anything to him. So why did we get married? Good question. I got pregnant, and years ago we thought it was the right thing to do. What I once thought was love was nothing more than infatuation. Our relationship was simply new and exciting. We both quickly realized it was ugly, wrong, and miserable. I coped with work and my kids, and he coped with his mistress.

  Our children were nothing to him either. But they are great kids, and even though my self-esteem is in the shitter, I do take credit for their upbringing. All three are teens now, and I can’t get over how the time has flown by. Tyler is seventeen and my brightest boy. I’m so in awe of him. Even with his autism, he makes me proud each and every day because of the way he excels in life and perseveres. Kurt is my fifteen-year-old, and he is one tough youngster; shit, does anyone say “youngster” these days? I’m so out of the loop with the youth, even though three teens live in my house. My daughter, Leah, is such an angel at thirteen. I don’t feel I deserve to have such a patient, kind, caring, and witty girl. As she gets older, I can see us becoming best friends. However, right now, I have to be more “mom” than anything.

  Yup, my kids still have a lot of growing up to do, but they’re well on their way. They teach me a lot along the way too. I’m surprised William and I ended up with three kids, actually, considering he and I barely had a relationship—and that applied to sex or any other marital activity. I guess after I had my daughter, that pretty much was it for us. I can’t ever remember making love after that. Well, it was never lovemaking anyway; it was always screwing. It was a way to blow off steam and stress, and we used each other. But one day, we stopped using each other for even that.

  A knock on my bedroom door alerted me to the fact that I needed to get my ass moving and go downstairs. I still had to keep up appearances. The kids have had friends and family all day to occupy their attention, and they knew the inevitable was coming anyway. They are brave pillars of strength in all this. I mean, really, with me being a cardiology nurse, I’ve known for years what would happen to him—and I’ve made that fact known all along to prepare us. His liver could only take so much before cirrhosis would claim him, and claim him it did.

  Good riddance! Shit! There I go again. I am a monster.

  I swiped at my cheeks to clear off the tears, but my fingers came back dry. Oh, right. I didn’t need to cry over William. There was nothing left inside for me to love. I could put on a brave front for my kids, but I had nothing left to offer anyone else. Sure, I wished someone could free me from the loss of love I’d been missing for years, but who the hell would take on a forty-four-year-old woman with three teenage kids? There was no one out there up to that task, and quite frankly, I didn’t know if I could—or would—ever open myself up for a disaster of a relationship again. I had been burned before, and I wasn’t about to go there again.

  That quickly, I had forgotten about the visitor at the door. A second set of knocks echoed through the cold, dark, empty space of my room. I cleared my throat and steeled myself for whoever could be on the other side of that barrier.

  “Come in,” I said in a choked voice—again, minus the nonexistent tears.

  “I just wanted to check on you, Liz,” a very familiar, safe voice spoke to me as a man entered.

  It was Dr. Alexi Graham, my boss. The familiar and constant man in my life—not like that, so don’t get excited. I’d follow him anywhere, though. I had been with him for years. I started with working alongside him at the hospital, then I left to help him open and run his private cardiology practice. I was his favorite nurse, but that didn’t make me egotistical. It’s just that Alexi knew my checkered history. He knew all about my husband. He knew some of my secrets. But Lord, he didn’t know them all—no one did, except for the ghosts of my past, and that is not something I’m willing to get into again.

  I was always giving Alexi advice long before he met his wife, Caylan. I looked at Alexi like I was his big sister, and I wanted him to find his other half. When Caylan came into his life, it was like the sun shone on him for the first time, and it brightened his very existence. They have a stunning little girl named Emeline, and Caylan’s currently in her second trimester of pregnancy with their second child. We’re all hoping for a boy this time. They’re the most beautiful family, and I do not begrudge them that. It is a sight to see and witness pure, absolute, and true love between two people.

  I have been there for several monumental moments in Alexi’s life. Just last week, for example, we celebrated his daughter’s first birthday. I was there for important events in his wife’s life too. They really embraced me as family, and my kids and I were grateful to extend ours to them as well. I was even lucky to have been one of Caylan’s bridesmaids when they married in 2016. The girl sure loves pink—and I must admit I was fortunate I could pull off the pink-toned dress she put me in.

  I knew I was nothing close to a classic beauty, but for my age, I thought I still looked good. It wasn’t about looking good for William, though. No, I kept myself looking good for myself and my kids, and also for my job. I wanted Alexi to be proud that I was the epitome of health, a good example for our patients. Watching my late husband drink himself into an urn really made it abundantly clear that I would always eat healthy and exercise, and encourage my kids to do so too. They each were into sports, and I loved to go hiking and kayaking with them. It was the four of us, and we were content with that.

  I could feel Alexi standing behind me, probably warring with himself over whether or not he should extend the hand I could feel hanging in the air and finally pl
ace it on my shoulder in a gesture of comfort. The phantom hand meant he cared. I didn’t know if I even wanted that from him at the moment. The inner turmoil was about all I could handle.

  I fidgeted on the bed, twisting the end of a lock of hair that had been hanging in my face. Today, I was using the hair like a veil or a mask of some sort. If I couldn’t see out behind my hair, then they couldn’t see in—or so I hoped. My stick-straight hair came down past my shoulders, and was a dirty blonde shade. I usually wore it up in a ponytail or twisted it into a bun; it’s not like I had anyone waiting to run his fingers through it, so it never stayed down. But again, today I needed the veil.

  I had a womanly figure, of course. Who wouldn’t after having three kids? But as I said, I keep in shape and look and feel healthy. I was even told I didn’t look my age and resembled someone in their thirties, so that was certainly the ultimate compliment. As long as no one called me a MILF, I was flattered. I just despised that term and thought it was such an insult to women.

  Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, was our home. We would not leave it regardless of William’s passing. He and I were both from a small town in Rhode Island, but I would never go back there. I never even went back to visit, and I certainly wasn’t going to start now. I had no idea who all might be downstairs waiting for me from our families, and I didn’t rightly care. At the funeral home, people made their rounds and gave me their condolences. I couldn’t even remember who said what, or who was even present. It was still all a blur.

  I sighed, but it didn’t relax me. I also had to keep blinking due to the harsh light streaming in from the hallway. I wanted it pitch black in my bedroom; it went well with my mood and the color of dress I had donned for the occasion. The blackout curtains were more for me than they were for William when he was still alive. He didn’t work, he just slept all day. He went on disability years ago, and I was only all too happy to get out of the house. I didn’t have to worry about the kids because they went to school and had great sitters over the years; now, of course, they were old enough to do their own thing. William and I didn’t sleep together because when I got home from work, he would already be gone, off to the bar. When I left for work in the morning, he would just be getting home and passing out on the bed in a drunken stupor.

  William and I existed as ships passing each other in the night, and we both liked it that way. He didn’t do anything family-oriented. We had a dead-end marriage. I guess I really was just waiting around for him to die. He was already dead to me anyway; he’d missed years and years of opportunities with his kids. So why didn’t I kick him out or end it long ago? I couldn’t even answer that one. I guess I was punishing myself for misdeeds; again, we’re not going there. You don’t need to be burdened by that sordid past.

  “Thanks for checking on me. You know, you’re my rock. You say you wouldn’t know what to do without me, but I feel the same. Thanks for being here today. I know I’m not much for company, and I feel bad because the kids have to fend for themselves. I’ll be down soon, though, I promise.” I willed him to go away.

  I could hear him breathing, and I knew he was running his hand through his hair, trying to judge whether he should really stay or go. In a difficult sign of acquiescence for an alpha male, he simply said, “Okay,” and walked out.

  The door shut quietly behind him, and I could hear his steps retreating down the hallway. I was in tune with my surroundings again. I listened to the sounds traveling up from the stairway for a little bit. I couldn’t really make out anything, just inconsequential noise. It was comforting, though, and I found myself just sitting there, letting the minutes roll by.

  Enough was enough. I had probably been sitting there for hours. I figured lots of people would have already left. It was time to check on my kids and come back to the land of the living. That didn’t just refer to the fact that my husband’s ashes were still sitting on my bedside table. I couldn’t bring myself to leave “him” downstairs. This is the screwed-up part about me. I didn’t want to spread his ashes, nor did I want to leave him on the mantle. I just didn’t want to be near him. Jesus, I couldn’t force myself to leave him anywhere else, though. It was only fitting that even at the end, he was a slave to a bottle of some sort.

  I had really good night vision now, so I could see the urn clearly, resting lonely on my bedside table. My body was stiff from sitting rigidly for so long. I flexed my fingers and realized I had balled them into fists at my sides. I stretched my neck from side to side, desperately trying to work out the kinks. I dragged my sorry butt up from the bed and made my way down the stairs. There was no one in the living room. I didn’t hear anything. Where were my kids?

  I trudged through the living room and then headed into my kitchen. Still no one, so I decided to look out back. We had a nice patio area for hosting, and it was lined with patio heaters for chilly days like this one. I was just grateful it hadn’t snowed recently. Sure enough, my daughter, sons, Alexi, Caylan, their daughter, and Caleb were out there, talking and watching Emeline play.

  I sucked in my breath when I saw Caleb Daniels. It was a shock. I hadn’t seen him in a few months—not since the last time we were all together for dinner one night at Caylan’s house. I just stared through the screen door at him; luckily, no one had noticed me make my approach yet.

  I was grateful I could admire him from afar for a moment. That’s another screwed-up thing about me. My husband had just died, and there I was, able to appreciate the male form of another. Okay, this was where the rational part of me wouldn’t take a back seat to the feelings I let lie dormant for far too long. Jesus, I was still a woman. I could at the very least admire. I was no longer married; I was a widow. Oh God, a widow, at forty-four. It was still so strange.

  Besides, it’s not like Caleb would ever be interested in me. I would be considered a cougar if I ever went for someone like him. He was what, like thirty-four? But my God, he was magnificent. He was successful, devilishly handsome, and so out of my league.

  Caleb was a lawyer by profession, and he reminded me of Keanu Reeves in that movie The Devil’s Advocate. His jaw was strong and confident. The dimple in his chin was sexy and alluring. His brown eyes were soulful, and the manicured brows above his lashes were captivating. He was a man who took great care with his appearance. But what I appreciated most was how humble he was. It didn’t matter that he was successful, he treated you like a person and never flaunted his affluent background. Caleb was the type of man who would make an excellent father, lover, and companion.

  Yup, he would one day make some girl very happy. He really was the ultimate catch. I felt something unfurling in my belly—and it wasn’t because I hadn’t eaten. It was because I was truly and utterly taken with that man. I had seen him at functions over the years, because he was one of Alexi’s best friends. But I never looked at him besides being an acquaintance.

  I was confused as to why he was even there tonight. We weren’t close by any means. Then I realized he was just once again being a good friend to Alexi and showing support, which in turn was supporting me. I made a groaning kind of sighing noise, the kind you make when you look at something you can’t have. Crap, I guess it came out louder than I intended, because all heads turned toward me. That was when Caleb locked gazes with my startled blue eyes.

  Caleb

  I would know her voice anywhere. I would know her sounds anywhere. I had been studying her for years. I’ve always been fascinated by Liezel “Liz” Carter. She was a breathtaking woman. She looked like she was thirty. I had a thing for cougars anyway, but she was hardly a cougar. Nevertheless, I was still drawn to her and could not fathom one good reason why I shouldn’t be.

  Her face was angelic, and her body was sinful. And fuck me for even being such a bastard in lusting after her when her husband had just died. But I couldn’t help it. I plead temporary insanity. Fuck, no, it’s permanent insanity when it comes to this woman. I have found myself over the last year finding any excuse to hang out with Alexi, just in the
hopes of catching a moment with Liz.

  I should feel really guilty about her deceased, selfish prick of a husband, but I knew enough about him to realize what he was. Alexi didn’t ever betray her confidence, but he apprised me as to the gist of their situation. I knew Liz’s marriage was a disaster. I never met her husband, and thankfully I never would have to. He threw away his wife, kids, and ultimately his life.

  If Liz and the kids were mine, I’d treasure them. I’d never squander a second of our time. Liz was the kind of woman who deserved to be taken care of for once. She was the ultimate caregiver, but shit, she needed a man in her corner. She needed a man to touch her, caress every inch of her skin, and make her moan. I would gladly be that man for her. I would gladly sign on for a life sentence of being chained to her and giving her everything she needed; she just didn’t know it yet. I was biding my time, but I’d make my move soon. I’d testify to that.

  Acknowledgments

  The story of Everly and Brent’s romance is loosely based on my personal life experience. So needless to say, this novel was incredibly challenging to write and involved a lot of digging deep to get it just right. How could I do the story justice? Hopefully I nailed it! I wanted it to be authentic, genuine, gritty, and as always, from the heart.

  I have to thank my family and friends once again for seeing me through another project, and therefore, another dream. Publishing this second book meant achieving a goal that has been long overdue. I consider myself a humble person, so please bear with me as I put these words out there. I have placed some of my dreams and goals on hold for the sake of my family; that’s just what you do, and I am absolutely okay with that. You sacrifice for the ones you love, and that is quite all right. But there comes a time when it’s finally your turn. This past year, I’ve said, “This is the year of me!”