One More Time (MMG Series Book 3)

by Hilliard, R. B.

  One More Time

  R.B. Hilliard

  One More Time

  MMG #3

  Copyright © 2015 R.B. Hilliard

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication or any part of the MMG Series may be reproduced without the written permission of R.B. Hilliard.

  This book is a work of fiction. Some of the places used in this book are actual places in Charlotte, North Carolina. The names etc. are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and owners of various products and locations referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This book is intended for readers 18 years or older due to the sexual content.

  Dedication

  This book is for my Harlots.

  Ladies and Roy, thank you for your endless support and belief in me.

  You make me laugh every single day. There are no words for how grateful I am to have you all in my life.

  Love you bunches….

  Acknowledgements

  A million thanks to my family, my husband and my kids. I love you beyond words.

  R.C. Brose and Traci Roe – Thank you for your edits and for helping to make this book the best it can be.

  Elizabeth Clark – Cheers to another awesome cover!

  Libros Evolution and Tania Marinaro – My teasers are beyond awesome. Thank you for taking a chance on me. I am forever grateful.

  Roy Gleason – Thank you for the name, Big Roy. (hee-hee)

  Narelle Fisher – Ibby would not be the same without your last name. Xoxo.

  Leslie Wilder – Thank you for Sally’s last name as well as your support.

  Claire Compos and Nicola Adams – Thank you for assisting me with dialect! I can’t wait to work with you again in book four.

  Sherry and Zoe – Thanks for letting me use your names and for agreeing to “fix hair” in this book.

  My Beta Babes: Sarah, KC, Elizabeth, Clair H, Laura, Traci, Lyndsey, Nicola, Emma, Petra and Jess, Thank you for taking the time out of your busy lives to read and critique for me. I appreciate and love each and every one of you.

  Hilliard’s Harlots – Love you all!

  Petra, Roy, Lyndsey and Traci – My bitches – Without our daily conversations, I would go crazy. Thank you for the laughter and friendship.

  Gina Sorelle, Jordan Marie and Jess Peterson – Your help and support mean the world to me. I heart you ladies BIG!

  My author friends – You inspire me every single day. Love you… and your words.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One: Isabella

  Chapter Two: Dillon

  Chapter Three: Isabella

  Chapter Four: Dillon

  Chapter Five: Isabella

  Chapter Six: Dillon

  Chapter Seven: Isabella

  Chapter Eight: Dillon

  Chapter Nine: Isabella

  Chapter Ten: Dillon

  Chapter Eleven: Isabella

  Chapter Twelve: Dillon

  Chapter Thirteen: Isabella

  Chapter Fourteen: Dillon

  Chapter Fifteen: Isabella

  Chapter Sixteen: Dillon

  Chapter Seventeen: Isabella

  Chapter Eighteen: Dillon

  Chapter Nineteen: Isabella

  Chapter Twenty: Dillon

  About the Author

  Excerpt from L. Wilder’s Consumed

  Chapter One

  Isabella

  ‡

  July 2013

  “I’m late. He knows I gig on Friday nights. Why do I let him get to me this way?” I paused, mid-mascara stroke to glance over at my dog, Brutus. As usual, he was parked on my bed with all four legs in the air and snoring like a buzz saw. “What do you think, Boo? Should I let him get to me this way?” One eye opened and zeroed in on me. When he realized I wasn’t in any danger, he closed it and resumed his nap.

  Two weeks ago was my one year anniversary with my boyfriend, Jimmy. There I was, standing outside his office door with a champagne dinner and tickets for the opera, while he was on the other side having sex with one of his associates.

  “I don’t even like the opera!” I confessed out loud, interrupting Brutus’s snore-a-thon. Memories of that horrible night rolled through my head.

  “Happy Anniversary, honey,” I announced, as I waltzed through Jimmy’s office door. Carly, Jimmy’s much younger associate, the one he griped and moaned about… the one with giant breasts he and his partners had whispered about when they thought I wasn’t listening…was bent over his desk, while Jimmy…my boyfriend Jimmy…slammed into her from behind.

  “Love that ass, baby girl,” he growled, as he ferociously pumped in and out of her body.

  Carly’s boobs bounced like massive water balloons in her low cut dress, threatening to spill out with each of Jimmy’s hard thrusts. If you asked me, she looked most uncomfortable. As if sensing they were no longer alone, Carly’s head lifted from the desk. Her eyes darted around the room and finally landed on me. They widened in shock and a look of horror appeared on her face.

  Like a fish out of water, my mouth opened and closed but all that came out was a surprised “EEK!” Dropping the bags on the floor, I slapped my hands over my mouth to hold in a scream.

  The bags hitting the floor jerked Jimmy from his Daddy fantasy back to the rude reality of being busted while screwing another woman. His eyes feverishly lifted from Carly’s pert little ass and gaped in surprise when he saw me standing across the room. With an awkward twist of his hips, he quickly disengaged from Carly and rushed around the desk. His erect penis bobbed in the breeze as he moved in my direction. Five steps in, he tripped over his pants and belly flopped onto the floor. All the while, Carly screamed like the lead actress in a murder movie. Feet frozen to the floor, I stood there in shock with my hands over my mouth and tears rolling down my face. I expected a lot of things from Jimmy, but this was not one of them.

  I met James Marsden through my older sister, Blakeney. Just like my mother, Blakeney is a trouble maker. A year ago, she found herself on the wrong side of the law which, sad to say, was nothing new for her. Once again, being the dutifully responsible sibling, I came to her rescue. That’s when I first met James Marsden, a high powered attorney for the largest firm in Charleston, South Carolina. I can’t say it was love at first sight. To me, he was just a relatively nice looking man with short dark hair and big brown eyes. However, he was a buttoned up suit. I was more of a free spirit. He wore ties and cufflinks. I wore gypsy skirts and worn jeans. He liked stuffy old man dress shoes. I liked funky jewelry and sexy heels. He looked straight laced and … virginal. With my tattoos, I looked wild and…not at all his type. James, or Jimmy as he liked to be called, didn’t see it that way. From the first second he laid eyes on me, I was “it,” or at least that’s what he said. He vigorously pursued me and, after six months of flowers, candies and notes, I finally agreed to go out with him. A year to the day later, I caught him cheating on me. Lesson learned; men suck. Tonight, of all nights, he had to call and badger me. Now, I was going to be late.

  “Please stop calling me, Jimmy.”

  “I have to fly to New York on business, so I won’t be able to make it to the bar tonight, Bella.”

  “Please don’t force me to file a restraining order against you, Jimmy. I don’t want to but if you keep pushing me, I will.”

  “Bella, Bella, Bella, you can try to strong arm me but you won’t succeed,” he quipped. “Y
ou forget I know all of the judges in town.”

  “Why are you doing this? I didn’t cheat. You did.”

  “I told you more than once I was frustrated because you refused to give me more of a commitment. I was fed up and used poor judgment. It was only one time.”

  “You were having sex with another woman, Jimmy. I’d say that’s a little more than poor judgment, and as for only one time? I find that hard to believe. Carly seemed to thoroughly enjoy being your ‘baby girl.’ Maybe you should offer her the role on a more permanent basis,” I suggested.

  “Not funny,” he growled. “I need you to get over this, Bella. I’m even willing to give you a little more time. As for now, don’t do something stupid just to get back at me. It won’t work. It will only make me angry. I’ll be back Monday and will talk to you then.”

  “Don’t bother. I won’t answer,” I told him, and I hung up.

  My issues with Jimmy started after we had been together for about six months. He had been bugging me to move in with him. One morning I woke up and had no clue who I was or what I wanted anymore. That’s when I made the decision not to live with him. He was immensely unhappy with this decision, to say the least, but I felt as if he was consuming all of the good in me and leaving me with… less. My long skirts and funky shoes had been replaced by designer clothing and pretty ballet flats. I had become his ‘Stepford girlfriend.’ The sex had gone from nice to…not so nice. I was far from an expert in that department, but I knew what I felt inside. I felt empty.

  Little by little, I lost pieces of myself to Jimmy. A few months before I caught him with Carly, I made the decision to find myself again. I had been struggling with my music and doubting everything. I knew the only way I was going to figure me out was to start distancing myself from him. However, the more distance I placed between us, the tighter Jimmy held on. All the while, I was being lashed by his sharp tongue and smothered under his critical eye. He didn’t love me. He loved who he wanted me to be.

  Relationships and commitment scare me. I’m not completely sure I know what love is or how it’s supposed to feel. My mom, or Gloria, as I like to call her, accidentally got pregnant with my sister when she was seventeen. Her parents kicked her out of the house when they found out. A few months before my sister was born, she hooked up with my dad. When she later became pregnant with me, they got married. They divorced when I was a year old. My father split town and left my mother with a one year old and a four year old to raise by herself. Within a year of their divorce, Mom remarried, thus repeating the cycle. We celebrated her fifth marriage last year to some rich guy named Sven, who likes to travel.

  I’m sure Gloria loved them all in her own way, but I have no idea what that was. My sister, a chip off the old maternal block, also has a tendency to jump from man to man. Like Gloria, she uses them up and then spits them out. All the while, I follow along behind her cleaning up the mess. Last month she moved to New Orleans with her latest beau. When I called and told her about what Jimmy had done, her words of advice were, “You need to fuck him more, Izzy. Then he won’t want someone else.” Nice.

  “Hold down the fort, Boo,” I said, checking myself in the mirror. Tonight I looked conservative in my dark red jeans, light gray, short sleeved form fitting top and black peep toe sandals. At least I didn’t have to worry about wearing heels anymore. Jimmy had a major Napoleon complex about his height. It wasn’t that he was short. I was tall and, with heels on, my normal five eight grew to five eleven which was an inch taller than Jimmy. This embarrassed him and he never failed to tell me about it. Tonight I had on two inch heels. Take that, Jimmy. I wound a red, gray and black patterned scarf through my hair, threw on some earrings, a necklace and a few rings. With my purse and guitar in hand, I ran out the door. Fifteen minutes later I pulled into the very crowded parking lot behind my uncle’s bar, The Shot Glass.

  Gloria’s younger brother, Charlie, is the polar opposite of her. He has never been married, owns his own business and is as steady as they come. On my sixteenth birthday, I got a job at The Shot Glass bussing tables and moved in with Uncle Charlie. By that time, my sister was already out of the house and living with one boyfriend or another, while Gloria was caught up in one of her various spouses and their children. Days like today, I really wished I had a normal supportive mother.

  Grabbing my guitar out of the back of my car, I glanced around the parking lot. Wow, it’s really crowded tonight. Weaving in and out of cars, I made my way to the back entrance. I paused at the door and took in a deep breath. The second I turned the handle, I was accosted by the sound of someone tuning a guitar…on my stage. What in the world? Uncle Charlie didn’t mention another act when we’d spoken earlier.

  Every now and then, Uncle Charlie gets a wild hair and adds an additional act. A few times, he has even guilted me into sharing the stage, something I greatly dislike doing. It looked as if tonight was going to be one of those nights. Oh joy.

  “Ibby, you’re here!” My uncle’s voice boomed from his office door. “Hurry and get your guitar out, sweetie. Had you been on time, I would have introduced you to Dillon. Since you chose tonight of all nights to be late, however, you’re going to have to introduce yourself. Make sure you follow his lead. He’s warming up right now. Hurry it up and get out there!” He made a go-on-ahead motion with his hands.

  “Sorry, Uncle Charlie,” I said, kissing his cheek. “You-know-who called and wouldn’t let me get off the phone until he said his peace.”

  “That boy is a menace. I’m glad you have finally been forced to see the light.”

  If he only knew. I told Uncle Charlie that Jimmy and I had broken up. I did not, however, tell him why. “Who is Dillon?” I asked, quickly pulling my guitar from its case.

  “Dillon is the young man I mentioned two weeks ago. You know, Angela’s nephew.”

  Angela Whitaker and my uncle had been friends since high school. She had recently been diagnosed with stage four ovarian Cancer. It was heartbreaking. My uncle ran into her nephew last month and they planned a fundraiser to help with her medical bills. How could I forget something so important? Jimmy…that’s how! Ugh! I quickly handed my guitar case and purse to my uncle, bolted up the stairs and across the stage. I skirted around Dillon and plopped myself down on the empty stool beside him.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late,” I panted. Reaching down, I grabbed my guitar strap and hefted it over my head. As I situated it in my arms, I relaxed my shoulders and looked up into…silver eyes. Holy heavenly angels above. The guy has silver eyes!

  “I’m Dillon,” he said, holding out his hand. His voice was deep and sensual with bass notes that hit me right where it counted.

  Leaning forward, I cleared the lust from my throat and grasped his outstretched hand. “Hi, I’m Isabella and I’m really sorry I’m late.”

  His eyes moved across my face before coming back to me and I felt his hand twitch around mine before releasing it. “No worries, I was just warming up, here,” he said, smiling down at his guitar. Oh Lord Jesus above me, this man is f-i-n-e. Blondish hair slightly brushed across his forehead and onto a perfectly chiseled man-face. From his nice square jaw to his lush lips, straight nose, and silver gray eyes…that were staring straight at me, I took him in. He reminded me of a young Paul Newman, except with longer hair and more pronounced facial features. Excuse me while I swoon. “Are you okay?” he asked, interrupting my reverie.

  Embarrassed to be caught staring, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I like your guitar.” I nodded down at his guitar. The second the stupid statement was out of my mouth, I wanted to take it back.

  He smiled, “Thanks. Am I the only one who is feeling nervous here?”

  “God no,” I said in a gush of pent up air.

  We both laughed.

  “I’m so sorry about your aunt. Is she here tonight?”

  “No, she’s too sick to leave the house. Hospice and a few friends are taking care of her.”

  “I’m so sorry, D
illon. Please let me know if I can help in any way. I’ll go sit with her this week and keep her company.” His silver grey eyes stared through me and I suddenly felt awkward. “Ummmm, maybe tonight we could do something moving, but not necessarily sad. Maybe something more or less to celebrate the great life your aunt has lived and the love you have for such an incredible woman.” The relieved look on his face made me smile.

  “Sounds great,” he said, “How about we start with Wild Horses? It is one of Aunt Angela’s all-time favorites.”

  It was my turn to look relieved. “Perfect choice. How about you start and I’ll play in.”

  His eyebrow rose in question. “You sure you’re okay with that? I mean, this is your stage and all.”

  Something about his tone and the way he asked the question made my insides quiver. “Tonight it’s our stage,” I breathily told him. “Let’s make your aunt proud.” With a beautiful smile on his face, he strummed the opening chords to the song. My heart flip-flopped in my chest. The guy was beyond gorgeous.

  I wanted everyone to feel at home in my uncle’s bar, so I had set the stage up to resemble a living room with a high backed stool and a pretty ornate side table next to it. On the side table sat a decorative lamp. Tonight, my uncle had added a second stool for Dillon and moved the table and lamp between us.

  “Get ready,” I whispered. The second I hit the switch and turned on the lamp, the crowd went wild. Once everyone settled down a bit, I nodded to Dillon. I was drawn to his fingers as they strummed the opening chords to the song. He had strong, sexy artist hands. From the looks of it, he had strong sexy everything. As soon as I had a feel for his style, I joined in. When he opened his mouth and started singing, goose bumps erupted all over my body. His timbre was rich and full and perfectly balanced. The boy could sing. I nervously joined in on the second verse and didn’t relax until he gave his nod of approval. After Wild Horses, he rolled into an amazing version of Dock of the Bay by Otis Redding. I had to fight to keep my mind focused on the music, instead of just gaping in awe at how incredible his voice was. After several upbeat songs, it dawned on me I was having fun. Not the pretend-for-Jimmy’s-sake-you-are-enjoying-the-moment fun, but the kind of good honest fun I used to have before Jimmy stepped in and sucked the life out of everything. We finished the set with one of my all-time favorite songs, Into the Mystic. There was something special about singing a Van Morrison song and, with a voice like Dillon’s to accompany me, it was even more so.