by Lila Kane
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Other Books by Lila Kane
Author’s Note and Mailing List
Summary
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
Sneak Peek: FIANCÉE FOR SALE
Bonus Story: DRIVEN
About the Author
Hidden
Broken Man Book 1
___________________
LILA KANE
Hidden
By Lila Kane
Copyright © 2017 by Lila Kane
First E-book publication 2017
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental. Please respect the author and do participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.
Table of Contents
_________________________
Title Page
Copyright
Other Books by Lila Kane
Author’s Note and Mailing List
Summary
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
Sneak Peek: FIANCÉE FOR SALE
Bonus Story: DRIVEN
About the Author
BOOKS BY LILA KANE
Enemies to Lovers
The Neighbor
The Ex
The Professor
The Player
The Intern
The Cowboy
Companion Novellas
Freed
Trapped
Inside Out
Struck
Driven
Dear Reader,
I’m so happy you picked up the first book of the Broken Man series. It’s a story that’s been on my mind for months, and I finally got to write it. As a special thank you for reading, I’m offering a free bonus story with the sign-up of my mailing list. Click HERE to get your copy, and thanks again for reading. I hope you enjoy the story!
<3
Lila Kane
Summary
When my wife died, I hated the world. I didn’t want to have anything to do with anyone. So I moved across the country, to live in a small cabin on the edge of the forest. To hide myself away so I didn’t have to deal with real life.
But it gets lonely on my own out here. With no one for company and no distractions.
Until Tia stumbles along, lost and looking for directions. And maybe a little adventure.
I’m open to adventure, as long as I can leave my heart out of it. But she keeps coming back, day after day. And I can’t lie—I want to see her. All I want is to lose myself in her over and over. But it’s not long before sex turns into something more—something I’m not sure I’m ready to feel again.
*The Broken Man series is made up of standalone short stories that can be enjoyed without reading the rest of the series. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and as always, you get a Happily Ever After*
CHAPTER 1
___________________
ANDY
I’m hiding.
Or at least that’s what it feels like. First, it was just what I considered “taking a break.” And then it became a time for healing. But then…that turned into months and months of staying away from the rest of the world.
To the point where I don’t want to leave anymore. To the point where the outside world makes me cringe.
So now, I’m hiding.
I take my morning coffee to the small porch I built myself when I got this place. That should have been my first indication that I didn’t plan on this new life being temporary. I think I’d known deep down that a permanent change was in order. So I’d built porch on the front of the house so I’d have somewhere to sit and watch the rest of the world go by.
The rest of the world is usually busiest early in the morning and early in the evening. We get a lot of tourists through here, and it’s just a short walk down our pretty, scenic road to get to the lake, so I get a decent amount of traffic in front of my house.
By decent, I mean three or four people a day—unless it’s a holiday weekend.
I read, I work, I watch. But I don’t engage.
I’ll wave to the random tourist or give directions if they stop, but other than that, I keep to myself.
After all, the rest of the world is dangerous. The less I engage, the less I get hurt.
I skip the news section on the paper because it’s full of horrendous stories about people who are hurting just as bad as me, or the people who want to hurt them. I read about local festivals and events around the town instead.
There’s a Strawberry Festival and a Wine Festival—basically every kind of festival you can dream of. I don’t go to them, but sometimes when I’m sitting by myself for dinner, or lunch, or even breakfast, I think of all the people around town that do go. People I’ve never met.
I stop to take a sip of my coffee, and see one of those tourists walking down the dirt road. Her blonde head comes into view first, and then slender shoulders and full breasts. Why am I not looking away? Then her narrow waist and legs that are long, tanned, and toned in her short shorts. Hell, I should have gone inside.
I’m a pretty good hermit, but this isn’t fair. I don’t miss much about the outside world, but I do miss women. Particularly long-limbed, curvy women with hair the color of sunshine.
Damn it.
I start to stand, and then realize my mistake immediately. She saw me.
Her eyes lock on mine. We’re both frozen for a long moment, and then she does the worst possible thing she could do.
She smiles. One of those billion-watt smiles that hit you right in the gut. Just like the smiles my wife used to give before the accident. Before the world took her from me.
It was a smile just like that which drew me to her in the first place.
“Hey!” the tourist calls out.
I nod. “Morning.”
“Sorry to bother you, but I’m a little lost.”
She doesn’t look like she’s lost. She looks like one of those people who can get five miles off course in a hike and still think of it like an adventure.
I don’t respond, so she continues. “I was trying to find the little store. They said it was by the lake, but I don’t see a lake.”
That’s because it’s another half mile down the road.
“It’s not easy to miss,” I say. “The lake, I mean. You’ve got another half-mile to go.”
“Oh.” She shields her eyes with her hand, gazing out to the trees that line the side of the road. “Feels like I’ve already walked three.”
I nod. I have no idea where she came from, but it’s not likely she’s walked much further than a mile. The bulk of the tourist homes stop just around the top of the hill less than a mile up the road.
“So…” She faces me again, flashing another smile.
My gut clenches. Hell, I’m being an ass. But what else am I supposed to do? She should take a hint by now and get going.
“Thanks for the direc
tions,” she says, starting down the road again. “Have a good day!”
I watch her vanish around a curve before sitting in my chair again.
“You have a good day, too,” I murmur, far too late for her to hear me.
It comes across sounding bitter, but inside it feels more like longing. If it had been ten years ago, a whole lifetime from now, I would have found a way to join her on her walk.
Before my wife came into my life—even when she was around—I didn’t shy from company. Adventure. Fun.
Then life turned to shit.
My family calls every once in a while to see when I’ll get over it. Move on. Join the real world again. But I’m never ready.
I never want to. Not even the tiniest part of me.
But this time…fuck, it wasn’t big, but it was a spark.
Something inside of me that came alive just the slightest and said, It’s time.
I ignore it, but I decide to bring my work out to the porch so I can watch for the mysterious woman when she walks back this way again.
CHAPTER 2
___________________
TIA
Hell. You just can’t beat views like this. The lake is beautiful, the trees are lush and inspirational—as I painter, I pay attention to things like this—and the men…
Well, one guy in particular.
I’d rented the cabin up the road for a month to get some painting done, not to meet hot men in the local town. But damn…as long as I get work done, I’m allowed to have a little fun, too, right?
At least, that’s what my sister would say. Work hard, play hard.
That’s always been our motto.
Too bad a little town like this isn’t quite conducive to the play hard mentality. Unless…
I see the house up ahead. The one I walked by this morning. The one with Super-Hot Guy. Kind of moody, but I don’t care. He had that…wounded look. The one that says the world has been tough on him and he needs a distraction.
The handles of the bags dig into my hands. I needed provisions, but shit…I shouldn’t have bought quite so much at the store, knowing I was going to have to carry all the way back to my cabin however many miles I need to go.
I shift the bags around, but it’s not getting any easier to carry them. After another several steps, I stop and set them down.
I’m seriously considering leaving half here and coming back for them later. I need the wine and the wine opener—also the cheese—but the rest can wait.
A sound of crunching leaves startles me and I peer into the trees. It takes a moment to find him, but when I do, I’m surprised to see Super-Hot Guy from this morning. He’s standing under a clothesline without his shirt on.
My throat dries immediately as my eyes drop to his pecks. Holy hell. I pray he isn’t married.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says.
He’s far enough away I can’t see the expression in his eyes, but close enough I can see every muscle, every toned line of his body. It hits me in places I didn’t think I could feel anymore.
I mean, I’m not celibate but there’s a serious lack of men in my new apartment building, and as a painter, I don’t get out for work. My socialization pretty much encompasses going to the grocery store or getting a drink at the local bar by my house. Not too many solid guy picks.
“Hey,” I joke, shaking out my numb hands, “it’s your house. Technically I’m trespassing.”
He glances to the road. I’m right on the edge. “Almost.”
I smile at him. One of those smiles. One that says, “Hey, I’m available, and I’m looking in your direction.”
“Did you get lost again?” he asks.
“I—no,” I say indignantly, losing the smile. “I was just taking a break.”
He snags a shirt from the line and pulls it on over his head. I open my mouth, almost ready to tell him not to put anything else on, but then catch myself. There’s being interested and being desperate, and I’m bordering on the latter.
“I’ll just…” I grab a few of my bags. “I’ll let you get back to your laundry or whatever.”
The trespassing thing was a joke, but it looks like he took it seriously. Or thought about it. Okay, so maybe his wife’s inside and I’m crossing other boundaries, too.
“You buy out the whole store?”
I glance at him with a frown. “No. I needed provisions. How was I supposed to know it was such a long walk?”
He folds his arms across his chest, studies me a long moment, then says, “Do you need some help?”
“Help?” The bags sag in my hands. “Like…a ride?”
Because I’m not that interested. I barely know the guy.
But he shakes his head. “I could carry some for you. To your cabin.”
Oh, well, that seems slightly less creepy. And I really don’t want to carry the rest of this. And I really do want to be able to ogle him from up close.
“That would be great. Thanks.”
He walks to the road and grabs more than half the bags, starting toward my cabin before I can protest. Well, he clearly works out, so I might as well not argue. Besides, the way he lifts the bags, curls them up to his shoulder, makes his muscles flex just so…
And makes heat gather between my legs. Okay, yeah, I’m desperate.
I also check his left hand and don’t spot a ring. Double points. Cute. Unmarried. Kind of quiet. But it’s those silent ones that’ll get you. At least, that’s what my sister would say.
“I’m Tia,” I tell him, holding out my hand.
He looks at it, then raises his eyes to meet mine. Why do I get the feeling he’s analyzing everything I say? Every inch of me?
After a moment, he reaches out and takes my hand. His fingers are warm and strong. “I’m Andy.”
He holds on a little longer than necessary. Long enough to send a jolt straight to my pussy. To remind me how long it’s been since I’ve been with a man—let alone one that looks capable of holding his own in the bedroom.
“Nice to meet you,” I breathe.
And as we walk side by side, all I can think about is how nice it’d be if Andy joined me for a glass of wine.
CHAPTER 3
___________________
ANDY
She has wine in her bags. More than one bottle. For what? A party? Or is she trying to drown her sorrows for some reason, just like I did when I first got here?
Tia is one big question mark.
And I’m pretty sure she’s flirting with me.
Hell. Part of me wants it, and the other part has no idea how to deal with it. It feels like a betrayal to my wife. I didn’t just come here to mourn her loss—I came to escape from ever having to deal with something like that again.
Having people in my life means I might have to deal with something like that again.
But…I’m an adult. I can separate feelings from fun, right?
And Tia seems like fun. Something I haven’t had for years.
“I’m just up here,” she says, pointing to the small cottage on the bend in the road.
I nod. It’s one of the half dozen cottages for rent every summer out here. I see people come and go all the time, most of them up for the entire summer or even visiting for a few spring or fall months. But then they move on and the next round come in.
“You don’t talk much,” Tia says.
She swings her single bag in a carefree manner. One that suggests me not talking is pretty much killing her. She must be a talker.
“Not much to say.”
“Seems like an art to me,” she says, then grins as if she made a joke. “I’m a painter. My kind of art. But not talking—that seems like its own art form. I’m pretty sure it’s something I could never master.”
“I feel the same way about people who talk all the time.”
Her eyes flash to mine, and I realize what I just said. I open my mouth to take it back, to apologize for offending her, but she just laughs.
And laughs and laug
hs.
I can’t help it. After a moment, I crack a smile. It feels good not to have to censor what I say around someone. I’m not used to it anyway. Living as a hermit for so long has me unused to being careful with my words.
“I like that,” Tia says, stopping at the base of her porch steps. “Most people are afraid to say how they really feel. Makes life pretty boring. And safe.”
“I prefer boring. And safe.”
She angles her head at me, eyes squinting in the bright sunlight. “Why’s that?”
I open my mouth to tell her. It’s been three years and I haven’t talked about my wife with anyone. I haven’t talked about anything with anyone. But I barely know this woman. What is it about her that makes me want to open up?
She reaches out, her fingers connecting with my forearm. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”
I couldn’t even if I wanted to, because now that her hand is on me and her lips are curving in a secretive smile, all the blood has drained from my head to my dick. All I can think in that moment is how much I want her. How much I need her.
It takes all my will power, but I step back. Her fingers slide from my arm. If I lean in now, if I show even a hint of my need for her, I’ll snap. I’ll lose control. And that won’t turn out well for either of us.
I set her bags on the bottom step and nod. “Have a good day.”
She angles her head at me again, and I can see the questions in her eyes. On her face. So I turn and head straight back to my house. I don’t do questions. I don’t do polite conversations. I’m not here to make friends.
Especially with women who drive me crazy with one look. One touch.
My mind is blinded with images of her naked, of her breasts bouncing in my face as she rides me long and hard on every surface of my house.
