Mission For Love (Love By Design Book 6)

by M. C. Cerny

  Mission For Love

  A Love By Design Novel

  M.C. Cerny

  Free Books

  Subscribe to my newsletter for exclusive content, sneak peaks of my new releases, giveaways, and access to FREE BOOKS!

  Members Only

  Do you love to chat about your favorite books or discuss what you just read? Looking for exclusive content on brand new releases by M.C. Cerny?

  Join M.C. Cerny’s reader group, an online hangout for my best fans!

  A Note About The Love By Design Novels

  Welcome to New Paltz, NY. The town is real, but these characters are…made up – just don’t tell the voices in my head.

  The Love By Design Novels are a small town romance series with a big heart. Second chances to get it right, surprises, babies, and house flipping fun. Each book in the series is written to be read as a standalone, but most readers prefer to follow the general series order.

  First Love - Prequel (Hunter & Taylor Jane)

  Love Under Construction (Hunter & Taylor Jane)

  Unlovely Things (Damien & Kristen)

  Heartburn (Whit & Lia)

  Tailwind (Chase & Winnie)

  Love Actually (Louisa & Carmen)

  Mission For Love (David & Kiara)

  Mine To Keep (Evan & Remi)

  Love On Tap (Andy & Sierra)

  Contents

  Mission For Love

  1. David

  2. Kiara

  3. David

  4. Kiara

  5. David

  6. Kiara

  7. David

  8. Kiara

  9. David

  10. Kiara

  11. David

  12. Kiara

  13. David

  14. Kiara

  15. David

  16. Kiara

  17. David

  18. Kiara

  19. David

  20. Kiara

  21. David

  22. Kiara

  23. David

  24. Kiara

  25. David

  26. Kiara

  27. David

  28. Kiara

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Mine To Keep

  Books by M.C. Cerny

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Mission For Love

  For Kiara Roberts, cancer was a b*tch. It took her first love, her shot at the Olympic team, and her leg. She was not letting it take her new job as the high school track coach and health educator. Sketchy test results put her patience on edge and made it a struggle to keep pushing forward. She needed a night of dancing, drinking, and fun with her friends to mark a new beginning, no matter what the future held.

  Coming home was supposed to be a relief for Army Specialist David Easton. He served his country and after months of rehab, the PTSD remained unbearable. Drinking wasn’t the answer, nor was co-owning the family bar with his brother. Getting the job at his old high school was manageable and put his family at ease giving the illusion that life was back to normal. It was anything but, and the moment he spotted Kiara across a crowded dance floor during the lowest point in his life everything changed.

  Kiara wasn’t attracted to hot guys built like brick houses. She didn’t have room in her life for players no matter how sexy and sweet they seemed. So why was David Easton showing up everywhere? There was no escaping him, and her only option left might be surrender.

  1

  David

  “Why are you going to Poughkeepsie when we have a perfectly good place right here that requires zero driving?” My brother Andy shot back frustrated and anxious like an animal trying to cross the road at night and then second guessing himself. He couldn’t help it. He was jaded as fuck and the girl I blamed for it was living across the country living it up while poor Andy carried the weight of her abandonment on his shoulders. Relationships made no sense to me. I preferred to love them once, maybe twice in a night, and then hightail it out of there.

  “Did you call mom?” He paced the space of my apartment above our family owned bar and pub. Easton’s had been built by our great-grandfather during the roaring twenties. Since prohibition had been in our blood, Andy carried on the tradition of making craft beer. You could say we had a streak of breaking the rules starting with great-grandad Davy’s speakeasy club and bootleg gin.

  “I spoke to mom the other day, and I ate the frozen apple pie she left me for breakfast. My job interview went well and I start Monday. Was there anything else I needed to do?” I ticked off other things on my list like finding a sander so I could fix the wood flooring of my apartment as well pick up a new fridge. The one in here had a vintage look and a smell inside the icebox that was just as old.

  “That’ll do.” Andy murmured. I thought he’d leave, but instead he moved to the window and peered into the back lot behind the building where we parked next to the dumpster and a colony of feral ginger cats.

  We were located on Main Street in town. Easton’s Pub, established 1917 was one of the older buildings in town on the Historical Society’s roster. Those biddies came by monthly demanding to restore all kinds of crap. I left the details up to Andy and our friend Hunter who owned a construction company in town. Me–I just wanted floorboards that didn’t creak and non-faulty electrical wiring. Andy had the top floor of our walk up, I had the middle floor and shared the space with a closet sized studio apartment we rented out to our probably underaged barmaid who happened to be one of Andy’s rescue projects and then the pub which was street level.

  I slipped my watch on and searched for a clean t-shirt. Peering in the mirror, I observed my brother who moved from the window to sit on the edge of my bed making himself a nuisance.

  “You’re still here Andrew?” I drawled doing my best not to roll my eyes.

  He huffed and crossed his leg resting it on his knee. He looked insulted that I was leaving town to go to a different bar where no one knew me. I felt a theme song coming on and pushed the ridiculous thought away. I loved my brother, but he could be an obstinate interfering pain in my ass, and that was just on a good day when we didn’t see eye to eye on things.

  “Still here.” He waved like a lunatic making himself comfortable on my bed and me increasingly uncomfortable.

  He looked like he wanted to have a heart to heart chat. The thought of conversing with anything other than grunts gave me heart palpitations and sweats. I liked my role as an introvert and his need to drag me out of my shell and reintegrate me into town life here was enough to get me on my bike heading in the opposite direction for a drink at a random bar with strangers.

  I could say any number of harsh things to him to get him out of my personal space, but I was working on that. The discharge therapists at the VA warned me I would feel residual feelings after being medically discharged from the army. I planned to make a career of it and now someone else in the form of an IED had taken that option away from me.

  “You look worried papa bear. I’ll be fine.” I glared at him in the mirror and he ignored me. God, he was good at that. I didn’t know if it made him wiser or older, but he perfected the art of silently scolding.

  Technically, he was younger than me. I viewed him as successful in the ways that counted since my failed military career. My parents loved us both unconditionally, but I always wondered if Andy was the golden child while I stuck out like a sore thumb. Andy had an uncanny sense for numbers and business working his ass off with the family pub and brewery taking over the day to day operations with ease, productivity, and profit.

  I’d been busy running off to fight wars in the desert made by greedy men while my blood and best friend was building up the family business, taking
over, and getting married to a girl I couldn’t stand. Maybe I wasn’t being fair, but Sierra was a conversation for another day and a train wreck headache that seemed to linger beyond the tolerance Andy and I had for each other. I hated that she’d become the driving force wedging us apart.

  “I’m not worried.” Andy looked worried. I wasn’t going out for a wild night, I just needed a break, but something seemed to be on his mind and if I didn’t address it now he might not ever leave my apartment so I could enjoy myself and what was left of the rest of my night. I’d finished reviewing the files and I set up my computer in his office so I could get the operating system up and running since that was my jam. He could stir the witch’s cauldron of barley and hops making the perfect craft beer while I focused on the technical side of things moving us from his hoard of papers to digital.

  “I should have the computer system set up in a week or two.”

  “That’s good.” He hummed. Okay, so he wasn’t worried about that, fine. Good. Great.

  “Mom said her and dad are settled in at the condo in Orlando.” They loved the heat and sunshine and saying goodbye to New York winters was no hardship for them when they sold the house.

  Andy continued to dismiss me and resumed his pacing toward my closet. “She loves the pool.”

  “And the mouse.” I mentioned in case he forgot that was the main reason our mother wanted to be in Orlando. They already purchased annual passes and I could tell she was itching for the grandchildren discussion so we could visit.

  “I saw Remi downstairs. She was busy with the happy hour rush and showing Pedro how to switch out the seltzer under the bar.” The mere mention of the tiny red headed tornado who worked for us and lived on my floor made Andy bristle.

  Still nothing, not even a heavy sigh.

  “I see mom stocked your closet.” He quipped with a snarky expression pawing through my clothes.

  “Shut up, asshole.” I grabbed the closest thing to me but I regretted it once I held it up. Did our mother have a cotton killing dryer too? Mom left me a package of new black shirts in my dresser and still thought of me as her little boy before I shipped off to boot camp. I hadn’t worn a size medium in years and here I was trying to stuff my adult body into a shirt that might have fit me in high school a decade earlier if I was lucky. I gave new meaning to tight fighting and it bordered on obscene, but I didn’t have time to do my laundry yet.

  But hey, it was the thought that counts right?

  “Don’t worry. Black is slimming and the mirror shows an extra ten pounds anyway.”

  My gaze returned to the mirror and I tilted my head angling the harsh light over my scars. They weren’t terrible, truth be told, they could be worse. I was lucky to be alive, but it didn’t change the fact that I could still feel the tightness of stitches, and the itchy phantom pain of shrapnel and debris that had cut the skin.

  “I didn’t ask your opinion.” I glared at him trying to tug down the t-shirt before giving up and peeling it off. My muscles would have shredded the cotton before I even got out the door. For all I knew my beastly face might even scare the women away.

  “The next thing you know you’re going to be asking me, if this shirt makes me look fat, and I’m just trying to head off the awkward conversation now rather than later.”

  I rolled my eyes. My brother, a fucking comedian.

  I groaned reminding him, “She needs something do in Florida. Dad should buy her a boat or something. Didn’t you buy them out for a pretty penny?”

  “Sure did, but you know Mom. Always hovering, always sneaking in things we don’t even realize we need.”

  “Yeah, but I’d like some shirts that won’t strangle me. Maybe you should tell her this isn’t my size.” I dropped the medium shirt to the floor. I’d pick it up later.

  Andrew crossed his arms over his chest puffing himself up. It was funny as little brothers go, but I had years of benching weights and hauling sixty pound packs of gear in the desert. I wasn’t better than him, just thicker.

  “Dude. Do your laundry and it won’t be a problem.” He picked up the shirt and dropped it in my hamper. We both knew he wouldn’t correct mom on my shirt size any more than I would. We loved her too much for that. She liked to think we were still her little boys munching on apples and peanut butter, and playing peewee sports instead of the hulking giants we’d become.

  I smiled finding a new way to torment him. “I could ask the barmaid to do it.”

  “Remington is not doing your laundry.” His voice hardened and I proceeded poking the overprotective bear.

  “I bet she’d do it if I asked nicely.” She would because she was too sweet and accommodating for her own good which was why I wasn’t going to ask her. She looked petrified of most guys and I wasn’t funning with her for kicks. Nothing made me more pissed off than a female terrified of her own shadow because some idiot male put that fear in her–but I did enjoy driving my brother nuts.

  “She doesn’t need to be hauling your shit to the washer and dryer.” Our building didn’t have washers and dryers in the apartments. We had to slog everything downstairs to the basement level where we kept the industrial washer and dryer for the pub. “She’s got enough on her plate.” Andy was growly and defensive. If he wasn’t careful people would read too much into that. I already had my own questions about him offering her a job right off the bus, but whatever. I’d stick to handling the computers and not the HR functions of the business.

  “Level with me, Andrew. Are you fucking her or is this–” I didn’t even get a chance to finish because Andy launched himself at me ready to fight. What my brother didn’t have in muscles he made up for with speed.

  “What did I say about leaving her alone?” He got in my face and I felt my own temper building. I wouldn’t hit my brother over a young pretty red head, but that wasn’t to say I handled my anger any better these days than I had in the past.

  “Chill out. I’m fucking with you.” I pushed him back and he stood down realizing I wasn’t going to do anything to the new girl who lived in our building and worked at the bar below. He hired her months ago, but I didn’t get back until a few weeks ago.

  “I think she’s hanging out with some bad news football player from the school. I don’t like it. She’s this innocent little thing with no one to watch out for her.” Andrew leaned against the wall explaining even though he didn’t owe me an explanation. My heart clenched because I knew exactly where this came from.

  “You know she isn’t…” I didn’t have to finish that sentence. My brother knew deep down. We both knew and it pained us equally in different ways.

  “Yeah, I know she’s not her, but you know me. I take on the stray cats and try fixing them.” He shook his head. Sierra would always be between us. The broken girl who had nearly ripped our family apart and then left without a trace. It was better this way. Cleaner. More clear cut.

  “You should come out with me then. Blow off some steam. We can call Chase and Hunter.” I mentioned our closest guy friends who still lived in town.

  This time Andy made a pifting sound. “You really think the guys are going to come out and leave the girls at home?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe, you never know. Besides, it’s been ages since we all hung out.” I missed conversation with Hunter and even his jackass cousin. Chase and I were pretty close playing football together, but it had been a while and I wasn’t the best at staying in touch.

  “True, except the main bartender called out and I can’t leave Remi and Pedro alone to handle the crowd. She mixes a shitty drink and I haven’t had time to teach her properly besides uncorking wine and the bottled beer.”

  “Fine, but don’t wait up for me. I’ll call an Uber if I need too.” We clapped backs in a distant hug and I made my way downstairs to take my bike.

  I had no plans to get shit faced, but felt the need to drink something and ease the ache behind my eyes from the flashback I had earlier in the day. Remi’s piece of shit car back fired in the lot
behind the bar and I was still flinching. Feeling weak and not in control infuriated me, yet here I was prepared to drink my shitty problems away in a bar that wasn’t my family’s business in the next town over.

  Hypocritical?

  Maybe.

  Hello oxy meet moron.

  I never claimed to be perfect but, the demons in my head wouldn’t go away on their own.

  2

  Kiara

  “Kia!” My sister Kelsey banged on the door to my apartment with enough force to shake the wall. You would think being a doctor she’d want to save her magical life-saving hands, but that went out the window on rare nights when our schedules aligned like stars and we let loose.

  I steadied the picture frame and opened the door giving her a look that said tone it down. Last thing I wanted was a passive aggressive note from Mrs. Williams next door.

  I lived in one of three apartment complexes in town not occupied by local college students or the elderly, and had easy access to a running trail. My first floor apartment looked out onto a parking lot in the back and a field of corn in the front banked by a river and an old rail trail. It was perfect for me even if my family didn’t love the idea of me being independent. I had to fight to get here and I wasn’t giving up. Not for loud sisters, my mother’s home cooking, or my dad’s sage advice.