Fearlessly Yours

by R. S. Broadhead

  Fearlessly Yours

  Emerald Coast Series

  R.S. Broadhead

  Copyright © 2018 R.S. Broadhead

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of the publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Cover Design © Wicked By Design

  Contents

  1. Leigh

  2. Luca

  3. Leigh

  4. Luca

  5. Leigh

  6. Leigh

  7. Luca

  8. Leigh

  9. Luca

  10. Leigh

  11. Leigh

  12. Luca

  13. Leigh

  14. Luca

  15. Leigh

  16. Luca

  17. Leigh

  18. Luca

  19. Leigh

  20. Luca

  21. Luca

  22. Leigh

  About the Author

  Also by R.S. Broadhead

  1

  Leigh

  I absently twirled the straw, making the mostly melted ice swim through the vodka and orange juice. I wondered about the person who had decided these two would work together. To take a beverage that yielded so many health benefits and combine it with vodka had to have happened by accident. Were they desperate for something to mix it with? Stumbled to the refrigerator and decided on the juice?

  I shook my head. I was bored. My brain ran through some of the dumbest questions when I was bored. I looked around at the tables near mine, filled with groups of laughing people. Here I was, alone, probably looking like I was practically begging someone to come talk to me. Why had I let Bri drag me here? A bar, drinking alcohol, was the last place I needed to be. My life had turned to hell the past couple of months, and being sociable was the last thing I wanted.

  But I had to give it to my best friend, accepting no wasn’t a part of who she was. Even if it made me miserable, I agreed. The moment we entered the crowded, hormone-driven bar, she disappeared. A group of girls she worked with had shuffled her into their clique, only pausing long enough to give me a fake smile and a wave that really seemed more like a gesture of dismissal.

  I should’ve known something like this would happen. It was the story of our lives. Bri was always the more popular one, and I was the quiet sidekick no one could ever figure out why exactly she hung out with. That was the reason I’d moved across the country from her once we graduated.

  I’d wanted to make a new me. Of course, that was a lot harder than I thought. Once I found my roots in Arizona, it lasted all of about one day. My life wasn’t adventurous. I didn’t have piles of friends texting me and wanting to hang out. Nope. It was just me and my cat. I worked. I ate. Alone. And slept. Then repeat. That was until I met him. A name I vowed to never say out loud again. Not even in my subconscious.

  A high-pitched laugh overpowered the bass from the speakers. I would know it anywhere. A tall girl pulled Bri out onto the dance floor. Instantly, she became of the center of attention as every guy watched her rolling hips. I shifted my attention back to my drink. A guilty pang of jealousy knotted in my stomach as I concentrated on the condensation rolling down the glass in front of me.

  My moving away wasn’t that I didn’t want to be close to her. I loved her. She was my best friend. It was that I couldn’t stand being in her shadow anymore. People only knew me because of her. Now here I was, right back to what I’d tried to get away from.

  But I needed this break from Arizona. When I told Bri what had happened, she immediately insisted that I take a vacation and fly to Florida. She worked in Destin as a real estate agent now and thought the beach would do me some good. So far it hadn’t. In fact, it was making me feel worse. I sighed, tossed the straw onto the table, and chugged the rest of the vodka. It burned, making my insides feel as if they were on fire. I slammed the glass back down, a cough erupting from my lungs as liquid shot from my mouth. It ran down my chin as my eyes watered.

  “Whoa, Leigh! You trying to get white-girl wasted tonight?” Bri’s voice came from my right.

  It was hard to see since I was still struggling to regain my composure. A hand fell on my back, smacking it a few times.

  “Because if you are, I’m in.”

  “Me too!” another voice echoed, followed by several more.

  “Guys, I was just kidding. You know how hard it is for me to get this girl to just have one drink of booze? She’s a straight arrow. Always has been,” Bri said.

  Her words stung. I knew she didn’t mean for them to, but they did. It cemented what I was already thinking. I refused to be that girl anymore, and if drinking her under the table was what it took, then so be it.

  I twisted in the seat, planted my feet down, and stood with determination. “How about some shots, ladies?” I asked the group around us while staring intently at Bri.

  Her brows rose slightly before a smile hinted at the corners of her mouth. She nodded as if commending me on proving her wrong. It was a look I had never gotten from her before. I made a mental note of her features because I never wanted to forget it. And I vowed it wouldn’t be the last time I surprised her this trip. With a jolt, I grabbed her arm like the tall girl had earlier and towed her to the bar.

  The bartender stepped in front of us. His eyes flicked between our faces before settling on Bri’s and then dropped down to her cleavage. My cheeks burned. What made her so much better than me? I looked down at the brown sweater that was buttoned up to my neck. I had a nice rack, but yeah, he wouldn’t be able to tell that from this ensemble. It shouldn’t matter what a girl had on. Anger pumped through my veins as if my vagina suddenly supercharged me into a ferocious man-hating beast.

  I snapped my fingers in front of his face, pulling his wild eyes toward me. “Um… yes, we would like to have some shots. Her tits aren’t planning on ordering anything though, so if you could focus your attention here…” I pointed toward my eyes with two fingers. “…that would be great.” Whoa. Where had that even come from? I had never said anything like that to anyone. It had to be the vodka. Clear liquid that gave me brass balls. All of the girls snickered behind me as the bartender’s mouth dropped.

  “What will you have?” he asked, his lips pulling into a thin line. Ouch. Talk about no customer service. Dick.

  “Fire and Ice.” I slapped on a mocking smile and straightened my back with newfound resolution.

  He went to work, mumbling something under his breath.

  “Fire and Ice, huh? Pretty strong stuff,” Bri said as I turned back to the group. “I’m surprised you know about it.”

  My chest puffed out. “Of course I do. I drank them all the time in Arizona.” I hoped my lie sounded more convincing to them than it did to me. To me, it sounded like a little girl trying to impress a group of cool girls, hoping to be accepted. They didn’t have to know I’d run across a video of it someone had posted on social media or that I couldn’t remember what was in it.

  “Here you go, ladies. Fire and Ice. We putting this on a tab?”

  I zeroed in on the liquid in the shot glass, which at the moment seemed to be taunting me. I had never been dr
unk in my entire life. Bri was right. One drink was my limit, and most of the time it was something lightweight.

  “Hello?” he snapped in my direction.

  I fumbled with my purse.

  “We can pay for our own,” a girl with brown hair said. I think her name was Sam. Maybe Sarah? She looked more like a Sarah, so that was what I decided to go with.

  “Nonsense. I wanted the shots, so I’ll pay for this round,” I said. I threw some money down on the sticky counter. The bartender snatched it up and disappeared, not offering to get me any change. I spun around and wagged my brows at Bri before tossing the shot into my mouth. Instantly, I started to drool. Ugh. Why did they make a shot that did that to people? With the back of my hand, I swiped it away while casting a curious glance around at the other girls. What the hell? None of them were drooling.

  Sarah smiled at me as she pushed closer to the bar. “I’ve got the next round. But not Fire and Ice this time. That stuff is a bit rough for me.”

  I would have agreed but couldn’t talk in fear of spraying her. I nodded instead, suddenly becoming hot. Had they cranked up the heat? I fanned myself frantically, seeking relief.

  “Another round for me and my friends.” The bartender had returned with a smug look as he noted my actions. “But this time let’s just make it a Vegas Bomb.” She handed him her card and turned back to me. “Those go down much smoother.”

  “Yeah. I have them all the time at home.”

  She shook her head as laughter made her shoulders bounce. She knew I was a fraud. Why did it matter? Did I want these girls to think I was a daily boozer who tanked up all the alcohol I could get my hands on? Because that was the angle I was playing hard at.

  When our drinks appeared, I didn’t want to take mine. My stomach was already doing these weird flip-things, not to mention it felt as if everything on the inside was sizzling like a cooked piece of bacon. But not the good kind. The kind that was overcooked and too crunchy to enjoy. Despite my hesitation, I took the tiny glass of fruity-smelling liquid. Without giving myself a second more to debate on not drinking it, I downed it.

  “Beers!” Bri screamed over the music. “We need beers now, so we can mingle.” She turned to me before continuing. “My friend here needs to get laid,” she said.

  All the girls cried out catcalls, sounding as if they were on the African plains trying to summon me a mate. Bri’s brown eyes were wide open, staring at me. She wanted me to back down. She knew this wasn’t me.

  “Beers. Definitely.” My stomach silently screamed at me. My already-pounding head cursed my very existence. But no way was I backing down. “’Cause this girl needs to find the D!” I screamed out, making the girls go crazy. I had heard Bri say “finding the D” on several occasions, referencing her hunting for dick, and figured it went appropriate with my current situation. I really had no intentions of doing so, but it seemed to please them thinking I was.

  Bri leaned in close to me. “You know you’re going to regret this. I mean, it’s going to be fun as hell for me, but for you… not so much.”

  My body seized at her words. I thought about the threat for a moment, trying to rationalize the random thoughts firing off against each other. Nothing made any sense.

  “Freaking buzz-killer. Why you gotta be like that, yo?” Her head cocked to the side as she smiled.

  “Are you about to start calling for Adrian, Rocky Balboa? Because that’s where the sudden accent sounds like you’re heading.”

  I grabbed one of the beers the bartender had put down and leaned back, reaching for a nonexistent barstool. I stumbled to the side, spilling some of the contents of the open can across the concrete floor. My shoulders rolled back. “I totally meant to do that,” I said, pointing in her direction. “And to answer your question, I might just do that.” I ran, plummeting through the crowd, and ended up directly in the middle of the dance floor. “Yo, Adrian!”

  In the next sixty seconds, something amazing happened. Or maybe it wouldn’t be considered amazing by most people, but to me it was. I controlled the crowd for once in my life. The DJ stopped the track in mid-song. In seconds, the Rocky song blared through the speakers. Everyone on the dance floor bounced in place, waving their hands around before pumping their fists out. I jumped around, pounding an invisible opponent. Apollo Creed wouldn’t have anything on me. One hit, and he’d be a goner.

  The song slowly faded into another, and my body matched its beat. I dropped it to the floor, bouncing on the way back up. Oh yeah, these moves right here… people only dream to move like this. I put the beer to my lips and downed a large portion.

  “Leigh! Damn, girl. You got some moves on you,” Bri said, dancing up beside me.

  “I mean, I’ve seen Magic Mike and Coyote Ugly. A thing or two was bound to rub off.” A thought struck me, and I grabbed her arm. “I’ve got an idea.” I hissed out a breath of air between my teeth as I shook my other hand as fast as it would move.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Let’s get on the bar and dance,” I spat out. Without waiting on her response, I lunged forward. I was about to own this place. Rock it like a hurricane, one might even say. I shoved a guy out of my way, earning a few choice words yelled at my back. At the bar, I ran a hand across the wood finish. It felt slick to the touch. Drinks would be a problem, I realized as my eyes ran its length. They could move them or it would get kicked to the side. It was a simple solution. I put my hands on the surface and lifted. A hand caught my arm, pulling me back down before I could get my butt planted on top of it. I twirled around, ready to knock someone out.

  “I don’t know if they like people dancing on the bar. This isn’t exactly the movies,” Bri said.

  I jerked my arm out of her hold and rubbed the spot her fingertips had jammed into. Geez. When did she get such Hercules hands? “I’m doing it. You in or not?”

  She shook her head. “I haven’t had enough to drink for that, so it’s all you.” Her loss. Using a barstool this time, I climbed up. Slowly, I rose to my feet and gained the balance I would need to command the stage. I glanced down to see people were already staring. I took a step back, throwing my hands out. It seemed so much higher now.

  “Yeah, do it, girl!” Bri’s friends yelled from below.

  An older guy sitting alone caught my attention. I swaggered in his direction until I was directly in front of him. His gaze didn’t deviate from the drink sitting on the bar in front of him. I rolled around, turned, and shook my butt in his face. Oh yeah, dude was so probably enjoying this show. I smiled, commending myself for making his night. After I was sure his heart couldn’t take the heat level anymore, I shifted back to find his drink still sitting there, but he was nowhere to be found.

  I stopped, momentarily considering the unreasonable thought that maybe, just maybe, I was a bad dancer. Or I was uglier than I realized. Blushing, I lowered my head and lifted one shoulder as the internal struggle intensified. A container of vodka caught my attention. Screw it. Grabbing the neck of the bottle, I put it to my lips, and took three big gulps.

  “You need to get down. The bar isn’t for drunks to dance on,” the bartender said. He crossed his arms, making his muscles pop up.

  Was he trying to intimidate me? Because it wasn’t working. I tossed the bottle in his direction.

  He jerked and caught it before it hit the floor.

  Damn him and his fast reflexes.

  He placed it in the trash and grabbed my leg. “Get down. Now!”

  I kicked him away. This was my last chance for a big finisher. Wrapping my fingers around the hem of my sweater, I yanked it up, flashing the entire bar. Whistles rang out. The bartender reached for my leg again, but I pulled away. I bent low, tensing my muscles. I darted forward, picking up speed. The end of the bar neared. My knees hit the surface, sliding along. Yes! Total Magic Mike shit.

  The ceiling began to tilt when my surroundings took an unexpected turn. My back slid to the right, then the edge of the bar dug into my shoulders befo
re I collided with some empty barstools. I hit the floor with a grunt and rolled a few times before coming to a painful stop.

  “Shit! Leigh, are you okay?” Bri’s panicked voice asked. Her hand touched my shoulder, apparently trying to get me to roll over.

  Yup. I’d landed face down.

  “Is anything broken?”

  “Ugh…”

  Her grip dropped. “Is that a yes?”

  “Maybe we should take her to the hospital,” someone else said. It sounded like Sarah, but I wasn’t sure.

  I smacked my lips together. It felt like the Sahara Desert had sought refuge in my mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick. Get me up.”

  Hands reached under my arms, and within seconds, my body was lifted. The change of position amplified the nausea times one hundred. I swallowed, concentrating on holding it in — at least until we were out of sight. I had embarrassed myself enough. The crowd erupted into hysteria, cheering for me. Of course, no one knew my name, so I’d been labeled as “tiny dancer.”

  “Sure you don’t want to stay and give everyone more of a show?” Bri asked. The humor was thick in her tone. She’d warned me I would regret drinking, and I did.

  My heart thundered in my ears. “No. I don’t know how much longer I can hold in the spew.”

  “We’re almost to the bathroom,” she said.

  When did we start walking? I didn’t get a chance to ask. The vomit churned violently in my midsection. An involuntary shiver snaked its way up my spine, and bile pooled at the back of my throat. This was it. I was about to blow. My hands shot up to their chests and pushed them back.