by Amy Noelle
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
About the Author
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
First published by The Writer’s Coffee Shop, 2013
Copyright © Amy Noelle, 2013
The right of Amy Noelle to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000
This work is copyrighted. All rights are reserved. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Writer’s Coffee Shop
(Australia) PO Box 447 Cherrybrook NSW 2126
(USA) PO Box 2116 Waxahachie TX 75168
Paperback ISBN- 978-1-61213-149-8
E-book ISBN- 978-1-61213-150-4
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the US Congress Library.
Cover image by: © Depositphotos/vectomart
Cover design by: Jennifer McGuire
www.thewriterscoffeeshop.com/anoelle
About the Author
Amy Noelle is a thirty-something single woman with two cats, Lily and Logan. Though she contends that she is not a crazy cat lady, she freely admits to being a crazy football fan. You can find her glued to the couch every fall weekend, cheering on her Seminoles and Buccaneers.
After attending Florida State University for two years, she transferred to Northern Illinois University and graduated in 1997 with degrees in Journalism and Political Science.
She was born in the Azores Islands, Portugal, and lived as a military brat from the west coast to the east coast of the United States, though she's found her permanent home in Tampa, Florida, for the last decade.
Besides football and writing, her other loves are television, movies, the beach, thunderstorms, and her family and friends.
Dedicated with love to my parents, who believed I could do this; to Angela, who read and guided me through every word; and to the fandom, who supported and encouraged me and made this possible.
Prologue
2005
“I’m going to go bake some cookies!” I called to my roommate Jen as I grabbed the cookie dough out of our mini-fridge. Damian was studying tonight, and I thought I’d surprise him with a little something sweet since he was working so hard. It had been only a day since I’d seen him, but already I missed his dark eyes, his sexy accent, and his talented lips. Maybe I could convince him to take a study break.
“Yum. You better give me some. They can’t all be for your boyfriend.” Jen peered at me from the bedroom. “Please, Nic?”
“I’ll bring you some. Be back in a bit.”
We were on the fifth floor of the dorm. The little kitchen was down on the third floor, and since I was lazy and carrying frozen cookie dough, I took the elevator. As I headed down the hallway, the door to my left swung open.
“I’ll see you later, angel.”
I knew that voice. My heart pounded. I turned my head, and there he was. My boyfriend, Damian, was coming out of some girl’s room, his clothes freshly rumpled. It didn’t take a detective to figure out what he’d been doing, especially since the girl was wearing nothing but a skimpy robe, her blond hair tousled.
“Will you see her before or after you see me?” The words came out of my mouth before I even knew I was speaking.
Damian turned, and a look of panic flitted across his face but it was gone in an instant and the charm was back.
“Nicole, my angel, I’ve missed you.” The accent. The dark, soulful eyes. The pouty lips. I was ashamed my heart beat faster as it always did when he looked at me like that. No. No way.
“How many angels do you have, Damian? Me, this girl, and who else?”
“Please, my heart, don’t look at me like that. You know I love you.”
The blond girl gasped.
“What? Damian, what’s going on here?”
“Don’t you get it, honey?” I asked. “He’s doing you and me and God knows who else. Gonna help the girl understand, Damian?”
He smiled and held a hand out to me. I thought about smacking him in the face with the cookie dough, but that wouldn’t have been fair to the cookie dough. It hadn’t done anything wrong. Besides, I needed it, especially now that I found out my supposed boyfriend was a lying, cheating asshole.
“My lovely, we didn’t agree to a commitment. I love you both! You have no complaints, yes?” That sexy accent wasn’t so sexy when he showed what a moron he really was.
“You told me you loved me, and I was the girl for you.”
“You told me that, too.” Blondie was glaring at him now, and Damian wisely took a step back. Maybe he wasn’t such a moron after all.
“And so you are, my sweet girls. I have a sweet tooth, as they say, yes?”
To think I was going to feed it cookies. That sickened me.
“Indulging in too many sweets can give you a cavity. And they can hurt. Shall I show you how much?” I took a step toward him and he stepped back again, holding up his hands.
“Nicole. Mandy. Please, ladies, don’t you see we could have a lovely relationship?”
That did it. I raised my arm to throw the cookie dough, but Damian turned and ran down the hall. One look at Mandy told me she was about to lose it. Me, too. I ran toward the staircase and didn’t stop until I got to my room. Jen was in the shower, and I was grateful I didn’t have to talk to her. I threw myself down on my bed, buried my face in my pillow, and cried.
I’d believed him. Every word out of his rotten, lying mouth had been designed to wrap me around his finger, and I’d fallen hook, line, and sinker. How could I have been so stupid? How could I be that girl who fell for the pretty face and didn’t see the rotten core?
I was a smart, independent woman who didn’t need a guy to make her happy. So why was I crying over him? Why was Mandy doing the same? He didn’t deserve our tears. He deserved a kick to the balls and for me to e-mail every female on campus telling them what a lying, scheming rat he was.
Screw this. I sat up and wiped the tears off my face. I wasn’t going to cry over him, and I wasn’t going to let Mandy do it either. I grabbed the cookie dough off the bed and headed back to the third floor where I knocked on Mandy’s door and braced myself. She opened it, still in her robe. Her face was as red and splotchy as mine likely was.
“Don’t you dare shed another tear over that two-timing wannabe Casanova.” She sniffled, and I held out my hand. “Nicole Magette, ex-girlfriend of the Greek asshole.”
She managed a sigh as she squeezed my hand. “Mandy Hawkins, same.”
“How long were you with him?” I had to know. But why
did I care? He was history now.
“Three weeks. You?”
“Two months.” So I won. Or lost, depending on how you looked at it. I should never have trusted a guy that beautiful.
Mandy looked like she was going to cry again. That was unacceptable. “Take a shower, get dressed, and meet me in room six-seventeen.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to bake us these cookies, and we’re going to get shitfaced.”
“Really? You don’t want to hit me, or something?” Her big blue eyes widened and she looked frightened. I thought about agreeing just to mess with her, but even I wasn’t that much of a bitch.
“Did you know he had a girlfriend?”
She shook her head. “Of course not!”
“Well then, I’m not going to hit you. Now, do you want to come to my room and talk about how men are assholes, or not?”
She smiled for the first time since learning that Damian was a lying, cheating dick. “Can I bring my roommate?”
“The more the merrier.”
“Thanks, Nicole. You’re being amazingly cool about this.”
I wasn’t cool, but I was glad she thought so. I gave her a wave and headed off to bake the damn cookies. As soon as I was alone in the hallway, my eyes began to sting. My chin started quivering, and I pressed my fists to my eyes. I wasn’t going to waste my tears on him. Or on any man. Not ever. Love was just a fairy tale and I hated fairy tales.
When the cookies were done I headed upstairs, retrieved them, and knocked on my friend Kim’s door on my way back to my room. “What?” she asked, a book clutched in her hand. “I’m studying.”
“Not anymore. You’re coming to my room and getting wasted with me, Jen, and Damian’s other girlfriend and her roommate.” I walked away as she gasped and yelled my name. I knew better than to turn around. If she wanted the details, she’d have to come to my room and curse men with me. I smiled in satisfaction when her door clicked shut and I heard her footsteps following me back to my room.
Ten minutes later, I had just finished telling Kim and Jen my story when there was a knock on my door. I opened it to the now-dressed Mandy and her roommate.
“This is Ashley,” Mandy said, and we all introduced ourselves while I got out the shot glasses and the tequila.
“Why aren’t you kicking her ass?” Ashley asked me, and I laughed as I poured our shots.
“Mandy didn’t dick me over, Damian did.” I raised my shot glass. “To no more gyros,” I said, offering my first toast. Mandy snorted with laughter. We slammed several shots and ate my awesome cookies. Then Jen turned on the television, and I glared at it. “A Few Good Men? As if there are any!”
“Hell yeah,” Mandy slurred. “Men lie.”
“They do, they definitely do,” Ashley agreed. “There was this guy in my Spanish class. I thought he liked me, but he just liked my notes.”
I nodded and glanced at the screen as Jack Nicholson went off yelling about the “Code Red.”
“You know what? That’s a good idea,” I said.
“What is?” Kim was annoyingly sober, probably because she’d soon be heading back to her room to study. Overachiever.
“A Code Red. We should have that.”
“You want us to kill Damian?” Jen asked, horrified. “I love you, Nicole, but I’m not killing a man for you.”
I laughed myself silly while the other four stared at me as if I were losing my mind. They didn’t get it. I was drunk, sure, but I was thinking clearly. And I wasn’t murderous.
“No! Our own version of the Code Red. See, I figured it out. The problem is that Damian was just too good-looking.”
“He was.” Mandy sighed, looking dazed and dreamy. “Those eyes . . .”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t start rhapsodizing over the asshole. We’re both going to need a damn STD test thanks to him.”
She looked sick now. “Oh, crap.”
“Exactly. I’m over it. I don’t want to deal with guys like him coming around and sweeping me off my feet and then making me feel empty inside when I catch them coming out of some girl’s room.”
Mandy teared up again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I’m not blaming you. I’m blaming me. I knew he was too good to be true, and I let him in anyway. Never again.”
“So what does this Code Red entail?” Kim asked.
I grinned. Finally, a good question. “Simple. It’s a support system. Any time one of us encounters a guy who’s dangerous, one who could tempt us and make us forget what jerks they are, we call in the others for reinforcement, who will come running and make sure we don’t give in to temptation.”
“It’s not a bad idea,” Jen said, loyal as ever.
“I don’t have time for men anyway,” Kim added. “I’m in.”
“You know I’m in,” Mandy said, her tears spilling over.
Ashley chewed the inside of her cheek. “What if I want the guy?”
“Then you don’t call a Code Red, obviously. That’s the beauty of the system. You only call it if you don’t want to fall for the guy.”
“Okay. Sounds good to me, if only to keep Mandy away from the creepers.” She wrapped an arm around Mandy’s shoulders. “She’s susceptible to anyone with a pretty face.”
So had I been, once. But no longer. “So it’s settled. We’ll get each other through with our hearts intact. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
Code Red established. It would keep us safe.
Chapter 1
“Here’s to ex-boyfriends,” Ashley said, holding her margarita aloft.
“Here’s to suddenly fat ex-boyfriends who may or may not be living with their mother,” I said as I clinked my glass with Jen’s.
“Seriously, Nic, was he really fat?” Mandy asked and leaned forward.
“He’s gained at least fifty pounds since college and, unless cougars have severely lowered their standards, the woman he was with was his mother.” I smiled. Maybe I should feel bad that Damian had let himself go. He’d been so gorgeous once upon a time. Jet black hair and eyes so dark and deep I thought they could look into my soul. What I should have seen was that his soul was just as black as his features. So was his heart. It was too bad he’d been banging half our dorm, which I discovered after I sent a mass e-mail. Mandy and I were in good company. We could have formed our own sorority of girls screwed and screwed over by Damian Hallas. His name was Damian, for crying out loud. Like that kid from The Omen. I should have seen it coming.
“Did you say anything to him?” Kim asked as she brushed back her long black hair. She could have been Damian’s sister with her dark hair and eyes, though unlike him, she wasn’t evil and hadn’t lost her looks.
Of course other things had changed since we’d graduated four years ago. Mandy, once so heartbroken over Damian-the-cheater, was already a mother. Kim and Ash were married and settled down. Only my best friend and former roommate Jen and I were still single.
It was rare for me to have much of anything to contribute to our bi-monthly dinners that wouldn’t get me that pitying “you have no life” look. I was enjoying this moment quite a bit.
“Of course! I walked right up to him and yelled, ‘Damian, is that you? You haven’t changed a bit!’ He turned red and said, ‘Nicole Magette, how is it you are even more beautiful now than you were back then?’ ”
That had been a shock. I hadn’t been sure he’d remember me, but he’d taken my hand and, while his looks certainly weren’t as devastating as they’d been in college, his eyes were that same deep black that looked right through me. For one brief moment, I’d nearly forgotten everything he’d done and kissed him then and there. It was strange how easily I’d slipped back to the moment I’d met and been captivated by him. Until his mother butted in. Thank God for her.
“Tell me you didn’t sleep with him,” Jen said, her light blue eyes pleading.
“Of course I didn’t!” I’d only thought about it for about thirty seconds while I
was hypnotized by the past.
“You must admit, he fits your criteria now.” Kim grinned. “He’s not better looking than you anymore, and he’s apparently a loser who lives with his mom.”
I tossed my balled-up napkin at her, and she batted it away. Sadly, she had a point. Ever since I’d had my heart broken, I’d avoided good-looking bastards like Damian. Nerdy, dorky, and loser guys were a lot easier to hook up with and walk away from.
“We can’t all find perfect husbands like you did,” I said. Kim’s husband Brian was smart, successful, handsome, and completely devoted to her. If I didn’t love her, I would hate her for being one half of a perfect couple.
“Sure you could. There’s this guy Brian works with . . .”
I tuned her out. There was no way I was doing the whole setup thing. Every single one of them, with the exception of Jen because she knew better and had her own issues with men, had tried to hook me up with someone they or their husbands knew. It always failed spectacularly and made for a world of awkward when I inevitably ran into the poor guy again. No thank you.
“She’s not even listening,” Ashley said. “She’s completely useless. I don’t know why we bother trying.” This was nothing new. Ashley and I had always been antagonistic toward one another, probably because we had similar stubborn personalities.
“You know,” Kim said, “it would be one thing if you actually gave these random guys a chance. But you purposely hook up with men you have no intention of having anything more than a one night stand with.” I raised an eyebrow, and she sighed. “Nic, you need more in your life than your cats.” She was still arguing, but I could hear the defeat in her voice. She was giving up, for now. Good. She almost never let things go. She’d keep going until you gave in and did what she asked. If our group had a leader, it would be Kim. She was the type who’d always been on the student council, and I had no doubt she’d make partner in her advertising firm. She was whip-smart and relentless.
