Assumptions

by Melanie Codina

  Copyright © 2014 by Melanie Codina

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted without written permission from the publisher.

  The book you are about to enjoy is a work of fiction. A resemblance to any person, living or dead, events and/or location is purely coincidental. References to real locale have been allowed by the businesses and used in manner to create atmosphere the reader can relate to. All events, the characters and storylines have been created by the author’s imagination and have been used fictitiously.

  Cover design/art done by Kari Ayasha of Cover to Cover Designs. For more information visit her website at:

  (www.covertocoverdesigns.com)

  Editing done by the fabulous Madison Seidler. For more information visit her website at:

  (www.madisonseidler.com)

  Interior Design and formatting by: Brenda Wright

  Photography: Kelsey Keeton of K Keeton Designs

  Models: Tessi Conquest and Nathan Weller

  Published by Melanie Codina, San Diego, California.

  This book is for Daniel … my very own

  super-sexy-soccer-player. Thank you for providing me

  with more inspiration than one author can handle.

  Overtime baby!

  My readers. As I continue down this completely unexpected journey in my life, there are so many words that describe how I feel about you. If I had to narrow the list down, I would start with grateful. Humbled. Overwhelmed. Floored. Flabbergasted. Astonished. Shocked. Appreciative. Then I would have to say humbled again. Becoming an author, truly has exceeded my wildest expectations and I wish I could hug each and every person that has accepted my work into their hearts and fallen in love with my characters. Without you, there would be no them … so for that, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you. Your continued support and demands for more blow me away.

  My editor, Madison Seidler, the Rockstar, my work is nothing without you and I count my lucky stars that you took me on. Thank you for putting up with me over this way-too-long endeavor called Assumptions. I would’ve kicked me to the curb months ago if I was you. Thankfully, you’re not me. Even if I do hear your advice in my head with everything I type, right down to every email and text message.

  My cover artist, Kari Ayasha, thank you for totally nailing my vision to the wall. Your work is spot on and I am so glad I took a chance on you. I look forward to what else we can create in the future.

  My Beta Babes. Angie, Kristy, Brenda, Marivett and Jen … I’m not sure I would know how to get through a day in my life, without you in it. You have all become such a vital part of my world, both real life and fictional, that this book wouldn’t exist without you. Your advice, the support, your ability to talk me down from the ledge, is truly the foundation of my work. I’m so happy that I found you. The memories you have given me would scare a lesser person, but whatthefuckever!

  Kristy Garner, your sound advice and opinions could solve that pesky problem of world peace. I love you more than my luggage and would hump your leg everyday if I could. Who cares if that makes me codependent, right?

  Marivett Villafane, I love your name. I love your voice. I love your smile. I love your passion. And I can’t wait for the day I get to hug you again. Even if you don’t know the difference between a fire alarm and a cell phone alarm.

  Angie Stanton, I’m so glad you picked me up from the airport, drove me out the middle of nowhere and spooned me for days. Who says online friends are dangerous? You, my favorite skank, rock, and I will stalk you forever!

  Brenda Wright, aka the-woman-with-endless-ass-puns, your support is aces in my book. I want to be you when I grow up. I need you more every day and look forward to all our future adventures. Especially if they are on buses. Oh, and you’re welcome for the tiny waist and big boobs.

  Jen Gerschick, my favorite cupcake, I wish the universe would’ve tossed us together sooner. And put us in the same time zone too! I love everything about you and know that I wouldn’t be who I am without your support. Miles mean nothing for us.

  To Casey Pratt and Carla Perry, there are few people who would drive across the state of Pennsylvania on a gloomy day, just to hang out with the likes of me. Even fewer would’ve done it after being up since three in the morning. I love that you thought I was worth it, and I’m so happy that you did. Just so you know, I would totally do it for you too.

  To CA Borgford, Randee Vierk, Jill Cheever, Jennelyn Carrion, and Melinda Bones. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all that you’ve done for me and continue to do. I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve you, but I promise to keep it up.

  To Naiky and Karen Mercado, I’m so damn happy I sat at your table. Thank you for eating my cupcakes and loving my characters. You make me smile every time I see your names and I can’t wait to hug you again.

  There is no way I can call out all of the blogs that have supported me over the past months, but I love you all. There is absolutely no way in hell an author can exist without all that you do. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for choosing my work to spend your precious reading time on, and then telling everyone that they should too.

  Last but not least, my family. To my girls and my boys, I love you. Thank you for pushing me, poking me, frustrating me, loving me, supporting me and just basically being mine. Thank you for letting me be who I want to be and for coming along for the ride.

  Dedication

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  PLAYLIST

  About the Author

  There had to be something wrong with the elevator. Really. Did the doors always open that slowly? Maybe it just seemed that way, because if I didn’t get the bags hanging from my arms to the apartment soon, said arms were gonna fall off. Yep, that’s right. They were gonna pop right off, and then I’d be standing there, staring at them wondering where I went wrong. Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic, but really, it totally felt possible.

  Truth was, I really should’ve known better than to schlep all the bags up from the car in one trip. My mom liked to call it the lazy-man-load, but I called it resourceful. I was infamous for doing stuff like this. If you could get it done in one trip, why the hell wouldn’t you? Today, though, a day when I bought a case of water and had jus
t finished working out my arms? It didn’t seem so smart, or resourceful for that matter.

  When the elevator doors finally opened all the way, a burst of energy filled me as I saw my door. Target in sight, the burn in my muscles intensified as I flexed and pushed off the wall I’d been resting on. Now bearing the full weight of my load, I was on a mission. A mission to get there before anything hit the floor. Whether it be arms or water bottles. Halfway down the hall, my hand began to cramp, and my phone started ringing in my pocket. It was pure reflex to pause and think about answering it. Squashing that idea quickly, I didn’t care if the Queen of England was calling; I was not stopping until I reached my destination.

  The hallway began to lengthen and stretch out in front of me. Seriously, how does that even happen? Picking up my pace, I could feel my fingers begin to open and loosen their hold on the case of water. “Almost there,” I mumbled to myself. A little pep-talk always managed to get the job done.

  I clenched my arm tighter against the case of water as I fought the need to drop everything. Only a few more feet and I’d be there. As if my hands knew, the second I made it to the bright, flower-covered doormat reading Go Away, they released their grip. Letting everything I was carrying in my arms fall in a pile around my feet, I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped as my muscles recuperated from the four-minute trip from the car. My phone started ringing again, and this time, I was happy to answer it.

  Pulling it out, I saw it was my best friend and roommate, Mari. I answered with a smile as I slipped my keys in the lock. “Hey, why are you calling me? We have a date tonight, and you should be home already.”

  “I am home. You’re the one who isn’t here,” Mari declared just before the door opened, taking my keys with it. The welcoming smell of cherries and vanilla that I always associated with home, filled my senses. Oh, how I loved that smell.

  “Here I am!” I exclaimed dramatically, throwing my arms out in a mock display of surprise. Motioning to the piles that surrounded my feet, I added, “And look, I bear gifts.”

  Totally accustomed to my antics, Mari just laughed before carefully picking up the bag closest to her. “You’re lucky my nails are already dry.”

  “I sure am. My poor arms were not gonna be able to handle getting all this crap inside. I was planning to use my feet and leave them by the door.”

  “Arm day?” Mari questioned as she squeezed past me to get the rest of the bags. I was doing just as I said I would, and began shoving the case of water into the apartment with my feet.

  “Yep,” I confirmed, snatching a cherry blow-pop, AKA my crack, from the bowl on the counter. Dropping my workout bag unceremoniously from my shoulder, my pullover was discarded moments later. After grabbing a cold bottle of water, I managed to chug half of it before coming up for air. Guess I was thirsty. And since I was planning on having a few beers later, I’d better finish it up.

  Mari planted herself on a stool, opposite where I stood. “We still going to the State soccer game tonight? You know you can’t go dressed like that, Lee.”

  Here we go, I thought while turning around to discard the now empty bottle and retrieve a new one.

  “Of course we’re still going. You know the rule: we don’t break our dates unless there’s a possibility for sex.”

  Popping the sucker in my mouth, I purposely ignored the second part of her statement. We’d had plenty discussions about my wardrobe, and even though the results had yet to change, she brought it up without fail every time. There was absolutely nothing wrong with what I was currently wearing; it just wasn’t what Mari would’ve chosen, as she was a classic definition of a girly-girl.

  Her clothing of choice was anything and everything that showed off her long legs, fantastic cleavage, and went well with wedge sandals. Her closet, and bedroom floor for that matter, was littered with skirts, high heels, skimpy shirts, tiny shorts, and anything with sequins. And if a garment was strapless, it was her mission in life to own it and wear it better than anyone else. She had the kind of metabolism all women envied, and her idea of exercising was doing laundry.

  I, on the other hand, tended to be more on the athletic side. I had to work for my body. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t run around looking like I was confused about my sexuality. I loved dressing like a girl, too. I’d been known to rock a pair of leather pants, four-inch heels, and a backless halter-top like there’s no tomorrow. And I could totally do it braless because my boobs were just that perky. But I knew that accomplishment was only possible because of everything I did. It was an achievement, not a gift.

  I’d worked out daily for as long as I could remember and picked activities that required physical exertion over sitting on my ass every time. I paid attention to what I ate most of the time—my addiction to cherry blow pops aside. I didn’t deny myself the enjoyment of stuff like cake or beer, but I simply knew if I was going to indulge, I had to give a little more. It was a balance I’d worked hard to figure out.

  I could definitely do girly no problem. The amount of sneakers in my closet matched the number of heels, and I owned just as many demi-bras as I did sports bras. What Mari didn’t get—or accept—was that I dressed for the person I was during the day. Some people wore suits or uniforms to work, but as a physical therapy assistant, I got away with workout clothes. It allowed me to get down on the floor and do the work with my patients—working like that was why I’d chosen my profession.

  Mari worked in an office where she got to wear pencil skirts, button-down shirts, and heels on a daily basis. Throw in her thin-framed black glasses and the twist in her dark hair, and she definitely had the sexy-librarian look nailed. Mari had no trouble getting dates.

  After a long, unpleasant glare from Mari, I sighed, “I know I can’t go dressed like this, Mari. I need to shower anyway,” Knowing full well I would be putting on another outfit just like the one I had on. But she didn’t need to know that. Fighting to conceal my smirk with the water bottle, I moved past her to my bedroom.

  “Good,” she declared in a satisfied voice before heading to her own room. It wasn’t like spandex didn’t attract guys, so I had no idea why she got so riled up over them. Shaking my head, I quickly shed my clothes to jump in the shower while mentally calculating which outfit would elicit the boldest response from Mari.

  About forty-five minutes later, I heard Mari coming down the hall. For the past ten minutes I’d been hiding my smirk safely behind the magazine I was pretending to read. I had to race to get ready so I could position myself here for when she came out. Her immediate response was one of my favorites.

  “Oh, hell no! Leeann Michelle Bradley, what is wrong with you? Why on Earth would you cover up all that skin when you should be using it to lure in willing prey?”

  The magazine did nothing to protect me from the pillow Mari chucked at my head when I couldn’t conceal my laughter. When the second pillow came, I was more prepared. Deflecting it, I tried to stop laughing long enough to defend my choice in clothes.

  “Some people actually go to sporting events to watch the games you know,” I shouted while shielding myself from yet another pillow.

  “Not normal twenty-something hot chicks on the prowl,” she stated defiantly, hands on hips and everything. She’d run out of pillows to throw at this point, so all she could do now was glare. This, of course, did nothing to hinder my enjoyment as I stood up and looked down at my clothes. Taking in the baggy sweats and chunky sweatshirt I was wearing, I realized that maybe I went a little overboard.

  The outfit was absolutely frumpy—even for me. It was the ultimate self-loathing outfit, only worthy to be worn while eating directly from the tub of ice cream after being dumped—by text. I couldn’t help myself though. When I saw the pants, I had to mess with Mari. Turning in a tight circle, I looked down my body and pretended to act as if I had no idea what the problem was.

  “What?” My innocence even sounded forced to me. The tight line of her lips and raised eyebrows told me she’d figured me out. Buste
d.

  “Okay, okay.” My hands went up in mock surrender, toeing off my sneakers at the same time. “Don’t blow a gasket. I give.”

  Yeah, she was tapping her foot at me. She remained quiet, though, as she watched and waited for me to remove the offending clothes. Sliding the pants down, my chocolate brown capris were now revealed and Mari’s foot stopped moving. Telling me she liked what she saw so far. Pulling my hoodie over my head while slipping on some flip-flops, I’d now exposed a lace-trimmed camisole that perfectly matched my capris. Obviously satisfied with what I was now wearing, she nodded before turning to grab her purse. “Much better.”

  Picking up the denim jacket I’d draped over the back of the couch, I smiled as I followed her to the door. She was quiet as we made our way to the elevator, my flip-flops making the only noise. I pressed the call button and glanced out the corner of my eye at Mari, catching her smirk. My eyebrows dropped in confusion as I turned to face her. This time I was the one watching my best friend fight to conceal her own laughter. I had no idea what was going on.

  By the time we reached the bottom floor, I understood. Not only had I been busted, but I’d been played, too. Damn, I hated losing.

  When the door opened I asked, “You knew I was wearing regular clothes, didn’t you?”

  “Sure did,” she said with confidence as we exited the building.

  “What gave me away?” I questioned with a smile, able to see the humor of having the tables turned on me.

  Mari stopped and looked over the roof of her car at me before saying, “Aside from knowing you better than anyone else?”

  I smiled, “Yeah, besides that.”

  Her smile was broad as she answered. “Next time, don’t bust out your I’m-planning-to-eat-everything-except-small-children pants. You never leave the house in those.”

  Laughing at the nickname for my frumpy pants, I nodded. “Well played, Mari. You are a wise opponent.”

  “Bet your ass I am. Now get in. I don’t want to miss the soccer guys warming up. That’s my favorite part of these games.”

  Sliding into the car, I couldn’t help but smile. It was fun watching hot athletes bend in all different positions. If only Mari understood I had that kind of show at work all the time.