Forever Only Once: A Promise Me Novel

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  “I remember. I’ll be there to help you move those few things we talked about. Things get rough in the house when you’re both working on the same series, then?” I asked.

  Arden was a virtual assistant and book researcher. I wasn’t exactly sure how it all worked. All I knew was that she made sure she got the history and research right for her authors. That way, there was always someone double-checking and keeping timelines and facts straight. I hadn’t known it was a real job until she started making good money and could finally afford her health insurance. And the fact that my baby sister had lupus meant that she needed some fucking good health insurance.

  “We tend to snipe at each other if we’re working on the same project. But I’m working on a legal thriller, while he’s working on the first book in a new series.”

  “A new series? That’s a big thing,” I said, actually interested. Liam was a New York Times bestselling author of a series that put out one book a year, each taking about that long to write. It took a shit ton of research and traveling to get it all done, and I honestly loved the books. Not that I let Liam know that all the time.

  “We mentioned that, didn’t we?” Arden asked.

  “I just didn’t realize it was this book.”

  “This isn’t even a spinoff. It’s a whole new start. It’s a little daunting, and I know Liam’s worried. But I’m sure he’ll do great. His readers will follow him. Maybe he’ll even get some new ones.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be fine,” I said, being truthful. “I should probably pre-order.”

  “You should. Because you’re not getting anything free.” She paused. “You know I’m kidding, right? Because you can get anything you want from us. Liam said you’re welcome to shop his closet for any book you need.”

  “I’m not taking advantage of my baby sister.”

  “You’re never taking advantage. We’re family. And family that I like. So, you’re welcome to have a book. Now, I called to check on you, but it seems we’re just talking about Liam and me. I love that you constantly do that,” she said. I didn’t think she actually loved it.

  “Doing fine, just on a break.”

  “Is your table giving you trouble?” she asked, no hint of irony in her voice. I was grateful for that. My family got my job, but not everyone else did.

  “Not really. Mostly, it’s Chris.” I whispered the words, knowing that my partner likely wouldn’t be able to hear, but I was still careful. I didn’t want to start another fight.

  “What are you going to do? You guys are fighting more than ever lately, and I don’t even really like him anymore. I mean, he used to be a good guy. I don’t know…he just gives me the creeps now.”

  I scowled. “What?”

  “It’s nothing. He and I don’t talk, which is a good thing because he rubs me the wrong way. Not physically. I don’t know. He just seems like an asshole, I guess. Which isn’t the nicest thing to say about your business partner, but here we are.”

  “I feel you.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. But something needs to change soon. I mean, I wonder if I’m going to have to figure out a way to either get out of this business entirely, buy him out, or start a new one on my own. I don’t know, it all sounds like a fucking hassle, and a shit ton of money I don’t have.”

  “We’ll find a way to help you if you need it,” Arden said, and I scowled.

  “I’m not taking money from my baby sister and her husband.”

  It didn’t matter that Liam was a fucking millionaire, I wasn’t going to take money from them.

  “You have given up so much to help me throughout the years. So, don’t even. And Liam and I were already talking about it, so it’s not like I’m just throwing money at you without talking to my husband first.”

  Somehow, I scowled even harder. “You and Liam talked about this?”

  “Of course, we did. We’re worried about you and Chris. And I’m bringing it up at the worst possible moment because I can’t just sit around hugging you and telling you that I love you. But, seriously, if it gets too bad and you can’t work it out, then Liam and I will help. And then you can pay us back, because that’s what you do, and we’ll call it a day. We are family. We are always there for each other. You were always there for me. You don’t need to worry or work with Chris if it’s going to give you migraines or some crap.”

  I shook my head, though she couldn’t see me. “Thank you for the offer. I don’t know what I’m going to do.” I paused. “But, thank you.”

  “Always. You’re my favorite oldest brother.”

  “I love the fact that you probably have a saying for Prior, Macon, and Nate, too.”

  “Of course. Though yours and Nate’s are the easiest because it’s my favorite oldest brother and my favorite twin brother. It’s when I have to add more qualifiers that the titles get a little long. But it’s worth it.”

  “You’re a dork. And I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Now, I need to get back to work. I figure you do, as well.”

  “Get some work done. Maybe tomorrow you can come for dinner.”

  “Let’s try that.”

  We talked for a few minutes more and then we hung up. Once we’d disconnected, I looked down at my phone, wondering if I could just call it a day. It was nearing five anyway, and I wasn’t going to get any work done with Chris in the building. And that was another reason I needed to rethink this partnership. I hated that I even had to contemplate it, but if I couldn’t work, that meant I wasn’t making money, and then I couldn’t pay my bills. I might have a decent savings account, and I was good about my retirement, but…fuck, even with the money I made on my pieces being far more than I’d ever thought possible, I didn’t want to be lazy and just rely on the fact that I’d had a few really fantastic years.

  I put my phone into my pocket and headed back into the building so I could drop my things and head home. I’d work on a few sketches for a couple of upcoming projects I had, and maybe even get some work done in my studio at home. It wasn’t as big as this one, and I didn’t have all the necessary equipment there, but I could at least work on a few smaller pieces. I hated when I couldn’t work when I had the notion to, and I loathed not working a full day, so I’d built the little workshop a couple of years ago.

  Chris came out from his side of the building, his phone in his hand, and a scowl on his face. I braced myself, knowing I probably wouldn’t like what the other man had to say. Yet another reason I needed to rethink this partnership.

  “Oh, good, you’re still here. I have a favor to ask.”

  I tensed. “What kind of favor?” I asked.

  “Oh, nothing too crazy. I’m supposed to meet with a potential client at 59th, but I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get there because I’m finally figuring out what I need to do to finish this other project. Do you think you can meet with her?”

  I blanked. “You want me to meet your client at a fancy bar?”

  “Well, yeah. We were going to try to get dinner, too. Nothing untoward. I promise.”

  Chris had already been married twice and went through women like crazy, but I didn’t say anything along those lines. After all, I was probably adding my own layer of bias to how Chris made decisions these days.

  “What is it we’re talking about?”

  “I’ll email you the details. But thank you.”

  “I didn’t say I’d do it.”

  “I need you to. I’m finally getting somewhere with this piece. And I have that other meeting later.”

  “Other meeting?” I asked.

  Chris waved his hand in the air. “With those potential clients. The moneymakers?”

  I closed my eyes and tried to count to ten. I only got to four before I exploded. Albeit rather calmly, but still not as patient as I wanted to be.

  “You want me to go to a fucking meeting at a bar on late notice with a woman I don’t know so you can go and meet with the people who want us to mass-pr
oduce shit?” I didn’t know what part of that bothered me the most, but putting it all together was too much.

  “Hey, it was just a question. I don’t want to cancel. But if you can’t go, then don’t worry about it. I’ll make do. I always do.”

  It was the put-upon tone that made me say what I did next. I should have just said no and walked away, but I didn’t. Because, apparently, I was a glutton for punishment, and I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.

  “Fine, send me the information. I’ll go. But this is it. We’re going to talk soon, Chris. Because this isn’t working.” I wanted relief to pass through me at those words. Instead, I just felt dread.

  A look flashed over Chris’s face, and he smiled, looking almost like the guy he used to be, but still not quite. It was that off part that worried me. “We can talk. But this is going to work. I promise. I’ll send you all the specs. We’ll get it done.”

  “But…a bar?” I asked.

  “59th is good. And it looks like you could use a beer. Am I right?”

  Chris laughed at his own joke, then waved and went back to his side of the building, closing the door behind him. I stood there, wondering what the fuck I was doing. Was I really going to a bar?

  I looked down at my clothes and cursed. I needed to change if I wanted to look like I at least belonged there. I didn’t need to go covered in wood shavings. I went back to my office, grateful that I had slacks and a button-down stored there. Sometimes, I got too into my work and ran late for dinners with the family. I didn’t always have to dress up for them, but occasionally, we went out. So, I was lucky I had some clothes stashed.

  I entered a note in my calendar to replace them, because if I didn’t, I’d surely forget, and then I checked my email for the info from Chris.

  The client wanted some type of art sculpture that was not in my repertoire. It was more along the lines of what Chris did. But I looked down and figured we could talk about it, as well as the pricing that Chris had set up. I winced, knowing that it would suck going over those specifics with the woman, but this was Chris, and we needed the money for the business.

  I looked down at myself, figured I looked presentable, and then headed to my car to go to 59th.

  59th was a martini and vodka bar downtown. It wasn’t actually on 59th Street. Apparently, it was a sister bar to another one in a bigger city than Boulder, so they’d kept the name even without the matching street.

  I had been there a couple of times, and they did have good drinks, if a bit overpriced.

  Somehow, I found parking a block over, paid the ridiculous fee, and made my way to the establishment, knowing this was likely going to be a waste of time. I wasn’t the artist she was looking for. Besides, I had no idea what she looked like other than, according to Chris, she was “a hot brunette with ample curves and a nice rack.”

  A sexual harassment suit waiting to happen that I would probably have to deal with if Chris ended up working with this woman.

  I made my way inside and looked for a single woman with long, dark hair. I found one sitting alone at a high-top, looking down at her phone as if she were waiting for someone. She had long, brunette hair that fell down her back, a few strands over her shoulder. She wore a sexy green dress that seemed to wrap around and showcase her curves. She had on high heels that looked like they would make her trip, but I had a feeling she knew exactly how to walk in them. She seriously looked like sex and sin. Somehow, I both wanted her to be the right person and didn’t.

  But it had to be her, there wasn’t another single woman in the place, and I was already running late. So, I made my way over to her and grinned.

  “Hi, I think you’re looking for me.”

  Her eyes widened, and she smiled and gestured at the seat across from her.

  It took me a second to blink because of that smile, and then I sat down, letting out a sigh.

  “Sorry, I’m late.”

  “No worries, I was actually a little early.”

  I looked at her then, my cock getting hard, the reaction pissing me the hell off. Yet I wondered how the hell I had never met this woman before, and why Chris had been the one to meet her first.

  And then my phone buzzed, and I looked down and wanted to slam my head against the table at the same time I felt like laughing.

  “What is it?” the woman asked.

  “You’re not Cassidy, are you?” I asked. Her eyes widened comically, and she shook her head. “No, I’m Hazel. You’re not Stavros?”

  I snorted. “Nope, I’m Cross. I do believe I have encroached on your date.”

  Turned out, Cassidy, the potential client, wasn’t coming, after all. However, I now found myself not wanting to leave.

  And that was a problem.

  Chapter 3

  Hazel

  * * *

  I looked at the man with the long beard, rumpled hair, thick thighs, and broad shoulders, taking in his woodsy scent that went straight to places that made me warm. I wanted to crawl under the table and pretend that none of this had happened.

  Why hadn’t I introduced myself right away? Why hadn’t I asked if this was the right man?

  I had been blown away by his smile and looks, and I was probably now sitting at a table with a serial killer. Great, so this was how I was going to die—the sheer stupidity of an accidental blind date.

  Hell.

  My phone buzzed at that moment, and I didn’t bother to look down before reaching for it. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the man beside me. I answered it without even looking away from Cross, wondering what the hell I was going to do. How were we going to get out of this particular situation?

  “Yes?” I said into the phone.

  Paris began sputtering. “I am so sorry. I am a horrible person.”

  I shook myself out of my reverie and frowned, pulling my gaze from Cross’s face. “What?”

  “Stavros. He can’t come. His daughter? The one I told you about? She needs an appendectomy. Like right now. He’s in the emergency room and frantic and texting me to let me know that he can’t make it. He feels horrible, and I’m sure we can reschedule, but his baby girl is getting her appendix out right now and is about to go under anesthesia for the first time. Obviously, he’s freaking out, and currently in a fight with his ex-wife. Fun times.”

  Paris said that practically in one or two breaths, and I winced, trying to catch my own breath.

  “Oh,” I said.

  Well, that sounded about right.

  “I’m so sorry. We’ll fix this. The way tonight is shaping up is not the best way to start our plan.”

  I just shook my head and then realized that she couldn’t see me.

  “Don’t worry about it. If you talk to him again tonight, tell him that I hope his daughter heals quickly and that everything’s okay.” I wasn’t going to touch on the fact that he and his ex-wife were fighting, because that was not something I wanted to get in the middle of. “I need to go, but I will talk to you later.”

  “Are you going to leave the bar? You can come over here. I’m not doing anything. Which is kind of the point of all of this, but I digress.”

  I held back a smile at Paris’s words, knowing her self-deprecating side was wholly honest. As it was, I couldn’t keep my gaze off the man in front of me.

  One I shouldn’t be staring at.

  “No, I don’t know what I’m going to do. But I should go.”

  Paris tried to say something else, but I cut her off and then hung up. Then, I looked across at the man who had sat down at the wrong table.

  “Um…” I had no idea what to say.

  Cross smiled, even though it looked sort of like a wince at the same time. “I heard part of that. So, your date had to cancel? And I assume it was a blind date if you didn’t know I wasn’t him.”

  “I want to slink away in sheer mortification right now, but I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to say. No, my date is not coming because there is actual surgery and blood involved. Unless that’s just
an elaborate excuse. Maybe Stavros saw me, said ugh, and then left.”

  “That’s not the case,” Cross said, and I snorted.

  “That’s quite nice of you to say, but you’re a stranger sitting at the wrong table. And now I’m dateless. I really should order that vodka martini and then call it a night.”

  “If it helps, I sat here for a meeting that my business partner was supposed to attend but was put on my plate at the last minute. I just found out that the client isn’t coming at all. So, yeah. That’s why I didn’t know who you were.”

  I sat there, confused, and so out of my depth.

  “I’d say you should join me, but that would be weird, right?”

  I had no idea why I’d said that.

  Cross tilted his head and looked at me. When the waitress came and asked for his drink order, he looked up at her for a second and then directed his gaze back to me.

  “I’d love a beer if you have any,” Cross said.

  “We have over two dozen on tap.”

  “A lager. You choose. And thank you.”

  The waitress went off, probably a little sad that Cross hadn’t even truly looked at her. And then I wondered what the hell I was getting myself into.

  “So, I take it you’re staying?” I asked bravely.

  “Why not? This is a fun new story, right?”

  His words echoed the man’s from the other day, and I swallowed hard. “Maybe.”

  “What did I say?” Cross asked, leaning forward.

  “Nothing.”

  “No, tell me.”

  I didn’t know why, but I continued. “I ran into a man on the street a couple of days ago, and he grabbed me. Said it was funny and could be a cute story that we could tell our children. And then he wouldn’t let go, and it was a thing.”

  Cross’s eyes narrowed and darkened. “Are you okay?” I nodded, rubbing my elbows. Cross’s gaze moved to follow the action, and his jaw tightened even further. “You sure?” Cross asked, his voice careful.

  “I am. He ran away after I threatened him. I probably should have actually hurt him, but I was a little stunned.”