Jack Part One and Two (The Elite)

by KB Winters

  After seeing Jack, and hearing his plans—I knew I needed to make a decision—and to make that decision, I needed the truth.

  I peed on the first test and then hopped in the shower to keep myself from compulsively pacing the bathroom. When I got out, it was ready to decipher. With shaking hands, I picked it up from the sink. I blinked a few times and refocused on the plastic stick. It couldn’t be right. I reached for the box and scrambled back to the toilet, and took the second test.

  Just to be sure.

  Five agonizing minutes later, after shaking the stick a thousand times, I had my answer.

  My eyes flew to my reflection in the mirror and I gripped the sink to keep the room from spinning. My stomach churned and I fell to my knees, leaning back against the tile wall.

  In the two plus years Jack and I had been together, I never once thought I’d have his baby before we were married and settled down. Now, not only was I having his baby, I was having his baby alone.

  * * * *

  Continued in Jack - Part Two! Keep reading!!

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  Jack

  The Elite

  Part Two

  By KB Winters

  Copyright © 2017 BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

  Published By: BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this 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 copyright owner. 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 the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Chapter One

  Jack

  “Another pint?”

  It was a simple question. But for whatever reason, I didn’t have the answer. A glance to my left revealed the one Peyton Blair wanted me to have. She’d been after me for weeks. Normally our flight schedule kept us too busy to enjoy much down time, but we had three days in London and somewhere along the way she decided the only souvenir she wanted was a night with me—in her bed.

  She was a pretty girl. It hadn’t escaped me how many men looked her way wherever we went. Tonight was no exception. The pub we’d been holding down for the better part of the evening was packed, and she was gathering quite a crowd of secret admirers. The interesting thing was she didn’t even seem to notice.

  Peyton wrapped an arm around my broad shoulders and leaned into me, grinning as she swayed on her feet. “Come on, Jack. You’re too young to act like such an old man!”

  She’d already had a pint and a half. Impressive considering she was five foot nothing and tiny. She told me she grew up in a house full of boys and her big brothers and their friends liked to drink and didn’t mind if she joined in. Peyton was the kind of person that made a room light up from the moment she walked in. A bright, sunshine smile was never far from her lips, and her eyes danced like she was constantly being let in on some secret joke. We’d been flying charters together for the past two months and even when we had a technical glitch, she was soft and light—never so much as a flicker of panic in her eyes.

  The bartender gave me one final look and I nodded. Peyton pumped her fist and then stumbled against me. My arm went around her tiny waist and anchored her in place. She just giggled. “Maybe after you have that one, you’ll be ready for some real fun.”

  I looked down into her eyes and her lips parted. All I would have to do was lean another few inches and she’d be mine. For the night, for the weekend, hell, maybe even longer than that. Neither of us were attached and were currently living in the same city and spending more days working together than not.

  But I couldn’t.

  And I didn’t know why.

  Okay, that was a load of horse shit. I know what was holding me back…

  A drop dead gorgeous blonde with legs for days, a heart of gold, and the sexiest smile that used to just be for me.

  I scrubbed a hand over my face, desperately trying to erase Holly’s image from my mind. It hurt way too damn much to think about her.

  “What’s wrong?” Peyton cooed, stroking her fingers through my hair. It’d grown long over the past couple of weeks. I wasn’t on active duty anymore. Why should I give a fuck if it wasn’t regulation? I hadn’t shaved either. I looked like a damn lumberjack. Especially compared to the clean cut, white collar Brits that sat around most of the tables inside the pub.

  “Headache?” she continued, still stroking my hair.

  I rubbed my face once more and then planted my palm on the top of the bar. “Tired. Beer’s catching up with me, I guess.”

  Peyton giggled and plunked down on the stool beside me. “You are an old man.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  Truth was, I felt like it. Haggard. Stiff and not in the way she wanted.

  I glanced over at her as she shimmied her shoulders to the beat of the music pulsing through the bar. Her hair was thin and fine. I bet it felt like silk. She’d changed out of her slacks and button-up top into a flowing dress with straps that fell off her shoulders as she danced in her seat. Her skin was golden tanned. She was a self-confessed nudist and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind every inch of her tan had been earned running around some meadow, not a stitch on her. She wanted to take me to a nude beach whenever we flew a charter together and ended up in Italy or France. She knew all the spots. Could ramble them off like some sort of clothing optional tour guide.

  “What’s really bothering you, Jack?” she asked, suddenly serious.

  The bartender placed a fresh pint in front of me and I slipped a handful of bills over the smooth, polished wood bar top, not caring if the tip was way too high. I took a sip and then set it aside. “I’m an old man, remember? I’m supposed to be grumpy.”

  Peyton laughed. “Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret…” She leaned in close, the neckline of her dress dipping low enough to show off her lacy bra top. It was sheer and before I dragged my eyes away, I noticed her pert little nipples poking through. When I met her eyes, her smile deepened. She caught me. Her pupils were dark and so large they obliterated the dark blue irises. “I prefer old men. They know all the good tricks.”

  Heat rushed over my skin. It would be so easy. The perfect distraction. One more beer and I’d be taking her back to my hotel, fucking her until I couldn�
��t think straight anymore. Maybe then I’d be able to sleep through the whole damn night…for once.

  My eyes shifted between her sultry smile and the fresh pint on the bar. If I downed it, I’d be done. Hers. At least for one night.

  The thought soured my stomach. I didn’t want to be hers. Not even for an hour.

  “I can’t.” I pushed back, putting space between us and then heaved up from my stool. Peyton’s beautiful lips fell from the smile she’d given me and turned down into a pout. “I’m sorry.”

  Without giving her room to make another plea for my attention, I turned and stalked out of the bar. She didn’t call for me and when I hit the door, I craned around and saw a dark Englishman in a sharp suit had already taken my place. Peyton was laughing at something he whispered in her ear and didn’t even glance at me as I threw the door open and moved out into the street.

  ****

  “How’s London?”

  “Just dandy,” I growled, pacing over to the large picture window in my hotel room. The city lights were beautiful and haunting at the same time. As I scanned the streets, watching people leaving or entering pubs or wandering the streets on their way to the fancy restaurants and shopping boutiques, my heart tightened.

  Holly would love it here.

  I threw the curtains closed at the thought and stalked back to the wet bar. I poured a bourbon, not caring that it was way too much and would probably add $100 to my hotel bill when I checked out the next morning.

  “Boomer, man, what’s going on? You okay?”

  I threw back a gulp of bourbon, loving and hating the burn. “Have you seen her?”

  Aaron fell silent.

  I glared at the phone that I’d set to speakerphone on the small, circular table. “Have you seen her?”

  “Yes.”

  Fire ripped through me. Quickly followed by the wave of sadness that I couldn’t shake. Regardless of how much I drank. I snapped the phone up, switched it to private, and pressed it to my ear. “Where? When?”

  “Boomer…” Aaron sounded tired. It was nearly four o’clock in the afternoon back in California. Which meant that I was the reason for his exhausted tone of voice.

  “Aaron, come on. I need to know. Just tell me what she’s doing.”

  Aaron sighed. “She’s doing good, man. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but I think it’s time for a little reality check here. You’re the one who left her, remember? You wanted to do this wild oats shit. And hey, I’m not judging. We both know I did my time being reckless and irresponsible, but maybe—”

  “Reckless and irresponsible? What the fuck? I’m working full-time, paying my fucking bills, and seeing the world. How am I being reckless?”

  Aaron was silent for a moment. “Emotionally reckless.”

  I snorted. “Okay Dr. Phil. Thanks for the advice!”

  “You’re an asshole, Jack.”

  For whatever reason, Aaron’s use of my proper name instead of my call sign—the nickname I’d been dubbed during my time with the Navy—sent me hurtling back to earth. I pushed away the rest of the bourbon and squeezed my eyes closed as I leaned down to brace my elbows on the smooth, marble topped wet bar.

  My free hand raked through my thick hair and I exhaled long and slow. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, Aaron.”

  “Quarter-life crisis?” Aaron suggested, a hint of humor infused in his voice.

  I chuckled softly. “I think I passed that marker a while ago. Is there such a thing as a third-life crisis?”

  “Apparently. And I got a front row ticket to the shit show.”

  I frowned. “You’re a dick.”

  Aaron laughed. “You know I’m right.”

  I nodded. He was. I’d come undone and while I’d thought running to the East Coast, and putting three thousand miles between Holly and my problems would help, it turned out that I was even more aware of them. I worked full time, but flying cross-Atlantic trips left me way too much time to think. And obsess. If I was being honest.

  “I spent my whole damn life being this super solid, put together guy. I had my shit—and everyone else’s shit—handled.”

  “That means me, right?” Aaron quipped.

  I grinned. “Mostly.”

  Aaron was like a brother to me and I’d bailed his ass out of trouble with our CO’s more times than I could count. He used to be the wild and crazy one. The good-time guy that everyone in our squadron idolized—or at least enjoyed watching with a tub of popcorn. Meanwhile, I’d climbed the ranks, kept my head down, and earned promotion and recognition. I wanted things calm, controlled, and predictable. Ironic considering my profession. Somehow, since leaving active duty, all that resolve and clear-cut planning had gone right out the window and left my life in shambles. I didn’t know what I wanted. Where I was going. And even if I could figure those things out, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find a way to get them.

  “When I was flying, it all seemed clear. Obvious, even,” I started. I crossed the room, gathering my thoughts, and sank down onto the edge of the king-size bed. “You know when you’re on a deployment and you find yourself in the belly of some ship in the middle of the fucking ocean, everything is clear. Any downtime is spent thinking about what you’re going to do when you get home again. I thought I’d have that kind of clarity if I put some space between me and home. But…”

  Aaron gave me some space to continue. When I didn’t, he interjected, “Seems to me it’s pretty clear, Boomer. Whenever we talk, the only thing you can talk about is Holly. When are you going to admit that you’ve already got this shit figured out? What are you waiting for? Some sky writer to spread it across the sky over Big Ben? I mean, come on.”

  I sighed. “I want Holly.”

  There, I’d said it. To someone other than myself.

  But what good did it do? I couldn’t have her. Not anymore. I’d fucked it up and there were some things that couldn’t be undone.

  Chapter Two

  Holly

  I’d posted it right in the center of my fridge; the little black and white picture with a grey silhouette to the right. Of course it was more than shadow or outline. It was my new everything. My baby.

  Jack’s baby.

  According to the doctor, I was cruising through my first trimester and was due at the beginning of October. Even after spending the past month and a half trying to adjust to the idea of being pregnant, I still hadn’t quite managed to wrap my head around it. At least, not entirely. I knew a huge part of that was because I wasn’t allowed to talk it out or share with anyone else. I couldn’t tell anyone else without first telling Jack. He needed to know. But I wasn’t even sure where he was at the moment. I knew I could find out. All it would take was a phone call. He hadn’t changed his number. It was listed on the paperwork that arrived earlier that week. The paperwork that, once signed, would transfer his half of the house to my name.

  At least my baby would have a nice house to grow up in.

  “Knock, knock.”

  I jerked upright in my seat and my eyes flew toward the source of the smooth, masculine voice. I met Noah Scoville’s easy smile. “Catching a cat nap?” he asked.

  “I wish,” I replied with a forced laugh. “If only those finance fairies would do these quarterly reports for me.”

  Noah laughed and I relaxed my shoulders. “Now, I can’t speak for the fairies, but I can tell you that your boss wouldn’t mind if you didn’t get those turned in until Tuesday. After all, he wouldn’t want his favorite CPA spending her entire weekend locked in her office.” Noah leaned against the doorway, still smiling. “What do you say we go get a drink instead?”

  To avoid staring at him, I darted my eyes back to the screens in front of me. Bad idea. The spreadsheets and budget documents littered my two computer monitors and just a glance at them was enough to make my eyes glaze over. Pregnancy brain was taking over and I couldn’t even combat it with a massive dose of caffeine. So unfair.

  I released a slow,
even breath and dragged my eyes back to Noah. “I might be willing to take you up on that offer.”

  Of course, if caffeine was out, so was a huge glass of wine.

  Again, so unfair.

  “Come on,” he said, hitching a thumb in the direction of the hallway. “Let’s be really bad and cut out early.”

  I laughed. “You do realize it’s already past six o’clock?”

  He furrowed his brows. “See? We’re sick. The only cure is to run fast and far!”

  Still laughing, I reached over and started closing the windows on the desktop and then shut down the computer. Some updates started loading and I groaned. “Of course,” I growled as a confirmation box bopped up. “Looks like my computer isn’t interested in letting me get my happy hour on.”

  Noah pushed off the doorway and came around to inspect. A wave of his aftershave and cologne washed over me as he leaned in close enough to take over the mouse. Damn, he smelled good. His hand nudged mine out of the way and the slight touch was enough to get my heart racing. The problem was that whenever Noah got that close, a wave of guilt quickly extinguished any excitement. My heart didn’t care that Jack had been gone for three months. That he’d chosen some life of adventure over building the future he’d promised to me. No, none of that mattered.

  They say the heart wants what it wants, but I wished mine would wake up and remember the place beside me in bed was empty and cold. Jack wasn’t coming back. When was my undying sense of loyalty going to fade?

  “I just click yes on these things until they go away,” Noah said, grinning over at me. His cheek was inches from mine, coated with a five o’clock—or, in this case, a six o’clock—shadow. He’d loosened his cobalt-blue tie and at some point in the day had shed the dark grey suit jacket I’d seen him wearing at our morning meeting.