by B. B. Hamel
She kisses me back after a second, and I know I crossed a line. But it’s the sort of line I never want to go back over.
When our kiss slowly breaks off, I smile at her. “I love you, Cora. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You can’t,” she says softly.
“I can get another job.” I cock my head. “Do you want me to stay?”
“I love you,” she says, and it comes out in a rush.
I grin, kiss her again, and I know I’m making the right choice.
I’m leaving something behind, but that’s what you do for love. You sacrifice, you make choices. You choose to be a partner with someone and you give it your all, because at the end of the day, that’s what love is. It’s a choice, and nothing more, and you have to choose to give yourself up to it, to be swept along by its currents.
I’m choosing Cora. I’m choosing love. I’ll leave all that other stuff behind me, my old life, my old nicknames, my old jobs. None of it matters anymore, not compared to Cora. Not compared to what we can have, what we will have.
I kiss her again, deeper this time, because I know there are more to come.
28
Cora
Two Years Later
I’m not used to being pregnant.
Every time I think I’m used to it, something changes. I get bigger, my ankles swell up, something like that. I’m seven months pregnant, so close to the end, and I never once got used to it.
“What’s the matter?”
I look over at Wyatt and smile. “Nothing at all,” I say honestly, and he smiles back.
He kicks his feet up on the railing in front of him. It’s freshly painted, a nice, crisp white. He did a lot to this old house over the last year or so, basically taking it from a falling apart shack to my dream home. The porch, in particular, was a large job, and he needed a lot of help with it, but fortunately the Mason cops are the kind of guys that will do a little manual labor in exchange for some beer and food.
Mitch in particular was a big help. He’s been over most nights, panting and rewiring right alongside Wyatt. I swear, Mitch looks happier than he was back before Wyatt moved to Mason permanently again.
“What’s time’s your shift tomorrow?” I ask him.
“Early,” he says. He stands up and saunters over to me, kissing me softly. “So we got a little time.”
“Yeah?” I kiss him again and he laughs, leaning up against me.
We slowly break off the kiss but he leaves his hand on my swollen belly. The baby starts to kick and he laughs.
“This is going to be one active baby,” he says.
“I’ll have my hands full.” I grin at him.
“You sure as hell will. But are you complaining?”
“Not at all.” I kiss him one more time before he goes inside.
I stay out and watch the sun slowly setting. I can hear him starting to cook and it just makes me smile again. My mom’s on her way over for dinner, like she does a few times a week. She lives just ten minutes down the road.
I know Wyatt misses his family and his friends from the city. He goes back as often as he can to visit. I’m hoping that we can make our own little family here, and maybe one day we can move closer to the city, live in between here and there. He’s a Mason cop now, not yet a detective, but he’s working on it. Another year, I bet, before the slow working hierarchy of Mason finally decides to get their shit together and promote him. Once they do, we won’t have to live in this county anymore, we’ll be free to move further away if we want, and Wyatt can commute.
But that’s for the future. Right now, I just want to smile. I have a baby on the way, I’m on summer vacation from teaching, and my mother’s coming over for dinner. Her sobriety’s going well, after a couple of hiccups in the early days. She’s religious about AA, and she’s made a ton of new friends from the program. She’s happy, and that’s what matters.
As for Jaxson and Kristi, they’re both in jail. Jaxson for twenty-five to life with a chance for parole, like Mitch thought he would. Kristi, though, she got life. Apparently, she was uncooperative to the end, and the judge decided that she was the one most at fault. She’ll rot in jail, and I can’t say I’m upset about it.
Wyatt comes back out briefly. “You want bread with this?” he asks me.
I nod. “Of course.”
He grins. “Of course you do.” He disappears back inside.
I sigh and slowly stand. I better go in and help him, make sure he’s not screwing dinner up, although I don’t have to worry really. He’s a great cook.
And life’s great. When all this started two years ago, and Wyatt came back into my life, I never pictured this as the end. I always figured things would be hard, painful, difficult, but that’s not how things turned out.
Wyatt makes me better, he makes me whole. I love him with everything I have, and I know how much he’s given me. I want to give everything back, and I’ll start with a baby.
We’re building a life here, and I’ve never been happier. He has his job with the police, and I have my teaching. Soon, we’ll have a family, getting bigger and bigger.
My mom’s car pulls up. I wave to her, a big smile on my face. She comes up and hugs me, and we go inside together.
Filthy Beast: A Bad Boy Romance
Prologue: Tara
That filthy, dirty, disgusting animal.
He thinks he can have whatever he wants. He’s a dirty, enormous, muscle-brained brute. He’s arrogant, rude, dangerous, way too famous, and an asshole. I’ve known him since I was a little girl, and he broke my heart a long time ago.
I have a million reasons to hate Jackson Hendricks.
So I’m extra stupid for putting myself in this position. I should never, ever be alone with him. I should never, ever let him touch me.
I definitely shouldn’t watch while he strips off his shirt, revealing his incredible muscular body.
“What are you staring at?” he says, a smirk on his lips. He knows exactly what I’m thinking about. He steps closer to me and I back up, bumping against the wall of his trailer. His grin gets deeper as he pins me there.
He broke my heart. He promised me everything, promised he’d always take care of me, that he’d take my virginity and make me feel special for the rest of my life.
Instead, he joined the military and disappeared.
He was the boy next door. Well, really, he was the man next door. Jackson has always been… well, he’s always been huge. Well over six feet tall and rippling with muscles, everyone assumed he’d become a professional football player or something. Jackson knew he was big and scary, and he always used that to his advantage. He wasn’t afraid of anything, especially not proving exactly how huge he was.
“You know why I took this movie?” he whispers in my ear. “It wasn’t for the money.”
Bastard. I hate him. I moved to LA and got into the movie industry assuming I’d never see him again. I wanted a new start in life. I wanted to forget about my past, including that brute next door. And I thought I was right, I thought he had disappeared for good. I never forgot him, but I moved on.
Until one day, I see him in this huge action film, and I realize that he’s back in my life.
Now we’re working together. And I can’t get away from him. He’s the star of this movie, and I can’t avoid him even if I wanted to.
I feel his heat as he presses closer against me. My heart starts racing. I keep wanting to run away, but I can’t. Jackson’s even bigger than I remember, even filthier, even more… absolutely freaking gorgeous.
“I took this movie to get what I really want,” he says to me, his hands on my hips. “I took this movie to get a taste of what I lost but never stopped needing. It’s been a long time, Tara, but I haven’t forgotten my promise.”
I turn bright red. I’ll never forget that promise, either. I was going to give myself to him.
I gasp when his lips find mine. I moan as his hands strip off my jeans.
He could crush
me. I know he’s going to destroy me. I should run away from this man. I can’t let him break my heart a second time.
And yet I know I’m nothing under his enormous hands, and I can’t stop until I’m totally shattered.
1
Jackson
“You gotta take it, Jackson, you just gotta! You’ll be a star!”
I grunt at Mickey and lean back in the chair. I put a fake frown on my face. “I don’t know,” I say. “Brutally Dishonest is an awful title. And that offer?”
“They’re paying way above your minimum, Jackson.” Mickey is starting to sweat and I’m loving it, but I keep my cool.
Mickey Rains in my agent, and he made my career. He took me from a nobody struggling to get work as a stunt double and turned me into a real life action star.
This was not the life I ever thought I’d have. When I retired from the SEALs, I thought I’d go into private security. But a minor knee injury made sure that I’d never be healthy enough to be on my feet for hours at a time, running around and killing guys. That’s probably for the best. And so I started looking into a new industry, and stunt work seemed like a good fit for me. Despite the knee, I’m still a big, healthy guy, and I can do all that shit, no problem.
But Mickey Rains saw more in me, apparently, and he started shopping me around as a real life action hero. I’m an ex-SEAL with real combat experience and the medals to prove it. I’m handsome, I can act a little bit, and I’ll bring real life experience to any movie set.
I booked my first feature-length film after a month of living in Los Angeles. I was playing the supporting role, but the reviews were good, and soon the offers started rolling in. My first real hit, The Alpha Hero, catapulted me into serious stardom.
That all happened just over a year ago. It’s been a crazy time for me, and I’ve made more money and done more than I ever thought possible. But now that I’m established, it’s time to get down to business.
It’s time to do what I really came out here to do.
“Still, do I really want another action movie right now? I just did one.”
Mickey’s eye bug out. “What… what are you thinking?”
“Period drama,” I say. “Something with costumes, that sort of shit. You know, put me in a pirate outfit, get me shirtless and sweating. Or hell, give me a big ass sword and some armor.”
Mickey looks like he’s going to have a freaking heart attack. “Armor?” he asks me.
“Hell yeah, armor. I’d love to get some real sword fights on my resume.”
“Sword fights,” he says, shaking his head. “Jackson, you have to be insane. You’re a military action star. You do contemporary stuff, with guns and all that, where your real world experience comes into play. That’s what works for you, and this movie is perfect.”
I deepen my fake frown. Truth is, I already decided that I’m doing this movie. I just want to see Mickey sweat a little bit. He’s like a mentor to me. I’m thirty and Mickey’s in his forties, but I feel like he’s a father figure or some shit like that. He believed in me when nobody else did, and I owe him everything.
But it’s still fun as fuck to mess with him.
“Maybe I want to do something more serious,” I say. “Maybe an indie?”
“Indie?” He practically falls out of his chair. “Fuck indies, Jackson, are you crazy? You’re hot right now but that doesn’t last forever. You need another solid movie under your belt, prove that The Alpha Hero wasn’t just some fluke.”
I sigh, really playing it up. “You sure about that? I just don’t know.”
“Listen. You have to trust me. I want you to become the biggest star in the whole fuckin’ industry. You just gotta listen to me.”
I can’t take it anymore. The poor guy is about to have a meltdown. He thinks his biggest rising star is about to throw away his career and do some lame ass fucking indie chick flick or some shit like that.
I burst out laughing and point at him. “Holy shit, you were buying that,” I say to him. “My acting’s gotten a lot better, hasn’t it?”
It takes him a second, but he leans back in his chair and finally releases a sigh. “You motherfucker. You were fucking with me?”
“Of course I was,” I say. “I’m going to do this movie.”
“Oh thank sweet merciful fucking Jesus!” he says, jumping up. “Sign those papers, my big man, and let’s celebrate. VON!!!”
I nearly jump in my damn seat when Mickey yells his assistant’s name. Von quickly comes into the room. He’s a short little West African guy with some of the most perfect teeth I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Yes, sir?” he asks. I think Von’s maybe twenty at most, fresh out of school and trying to get into the business.
“Get us champagne. None of that cheap shit. Our boy here is going to make us a lot of money.”
“Sick,” he says, grinning.
“Don’t say sick,” Mickey answers, making a face.
“Sorry sir, I mean, that’s very wonderful.” Von starts to back out.
“Don’t do that fake respectful bullshit either, goddamnit, Von. Hurry up and get the damn bubbly!”
Von disappears out the door and I shake my head, grinning to myself. I love making Mickey happy, and nothing makes him happier than landing a big movie deal.
But I don’t really care about the money. There have been plenty of other big offers in the last couple weeks, and I’ve turned them all down, one after the other. None of them have been right for me.
Brutally Dishonest isn’t the best movie of the bunch. It’s not even offering me the most money. It won’t have the biggest release, although it’ll still probably do reasonably well. It’s not a step backwards, more like a lateral move, although Mickey still thinks it’ll be good for me.
And I agree, though for different reasons.
Von comes back a minute later with glasses and the bottle. He pours three and Mickey stares at him.
“You’re kidding, right?” he asks.
“Big balls on you, Von,” I say, laughing.
He shrugs, grins, and downs the champagne. “Congrats, Jack,” he says to me.
“His name’s Jackson, you little shit, now get out of here.”
I grin and shake Von’s hand as he leaves. I love that little guy. Although Mickey gives him shit, I know he’s a great assistant.
“To you, big guy,” Mickey says. I take my glass, we toast, and I down it in one gulp. “Now, let’s do the boring shit.”
We sit down next to each other on his couch and start to walk through the contract. Normally I’d ignore all of this stuff, but there’s one thing I’m waiting for.
We get past the offer, the deadlines, all that shit, and finally get to the part where it lists the crew.
“Okay, director is some German guy named Lionel, no last name apparently,” Mickey says. “Buncha other guys, you know what a crew looks like.”
He goes to turn the page, but I stop him. “Wait. Who’s the script girl?”
He blinks, surprised. “Script girl? I don’t fucking know, some kid. Who cares?”
“Read the name,” I say, trying to stay patient.
He sighs and skims through it. “Okay, let’s see… photography… gaffer… okay, here we go. Script girl.” He squints at the name. “Tara Austin.” He looks up at me, a confused look on his face. “That mean anything to you?”
I smile at him and nod. “That name means a lot to me, Mickey. Now let’s sign this shit.”
He looks confused, but he doesn’t press. I wouldn’t tell him the truth even if he asked anyway.
Truth is, I’m doing this movie for that script girl. She doesn’t know it, but I’m coming for her. I fucked up once upon a time, although I did what I did for a good reason.
But now I’m back and I’m going to make up for that one colossally stupid decision.
2
Tara
When I first came to LA, I hated it here. I hated the perfect weather, hated the perfect people, and rea
lly hated how fake everything felt.
But I was determined. I came to this town with a dream, and I’m not the kind of girl to give up just because I get a little homesick. And so over the years, I met people, made friends, built up a life, and landed the best job I could ever imagine working for one of the largest studios around.
But over the years, personal stuff kind of fell by the wayside. I’ve dated, sure, but never seriously. Guys never stuck around, and I guess I never cared all that much. I was dedicated to building my career.
And now here I am, twenty-eight years old, living with an awesome roommate, but totally, chronically, impossibly single. I haven’t met a decent guy in months, and I’m starting to feel like I never will.
There’s something missing in my life. I love working as a script girl, even though I despise that title. But basically, I’m the liaison between the writer, the director, and the script itself. I make sure that we’re following the plot, that things make sense, that we’re keeping continuity. If lines change, I mark the main script up, and I make sure it makes sense in the greater story. If a character says his name is Timmy, and later in the movie his name randomly changes to Tommy, well, that’d be my fault.
I love it. I love working with different directors, actors, and writers. I do a bunch of different things on set, and I’m like a jack of all trades on top of my usual script duties.
And I’m looking forward to this upcoming job. My roommate, Laney Lane, not her real name, is one of the best action writers in Hollywood. But because she’s a woman, it’s harder for her to sell her scripts. Fortunately though, I was able to get her script for Brutally Dishonest into the right hands at my studio, and the rest is history. Now I get to work as script girl for my closest friend’s film, and I can’t wait to get started.
