All He Needs – Ace & Stephanie (Crossroads Book 10)

by Melanie Shawn

  All He Needs

  by

  Melanie Shawn

  Copyright © 2016 Melanie Shawn

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this book. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission in writing from Melanie Shawn. Exceptions are limited to reviewers who may use brief quotations in connection with reviews. No part of this book can be transmitted, scanned, reproduced, or distributed in any written or electronic form without written permission from Melanie Shawn.

  This book is a work of fiction. Places, names, characters and events are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Disclaimer: The material in this book is for mature audiences only and contains graphic content. It is intended only for those aged 18 and older.

  Cover Design by Wildcat Dezigns

  Copyedit by Deanna McDonald

  Proofreading Services by Raiza McDuffie

  Book Design by BB eBooks

  Published by Red Hot Reads Publishing

  Rev. 1.0

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  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

  Excerpt: All He Feels – Dax & Ginny

  Other Titles by Melanie Shawn

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Stephanie Holland couldn’t decide if being recruited to be a case study for a self-help book on dating and relationships was flattering or horrifying. She was leaning towards the latter.

  “Are we talking about, um…,” Stephanie scooted forward and glanced around the crowded hospital cafeteria before lowering her voice as she clarified, “sex?”

  “Sure. It can be sex.” Unlike Stephanie, Misty spoke at the same volume as if she’d just commented on what a sunny day it was. “Or it can be dating, just hanging out. It’s totally up to you.”

  “Okay. And you said there are categories. One and done. Two and through. Three and free. And four means more. Right?” She’d been trying to take mental notes on her friend’s dating philosophy, but it was a struggle. As a nurse, she was accustomed to long hours but she was halfway through her fourth consecutive twelve-hour shift. Actually, two of those were fourteen-hour shifts. Not that she was complaining. She needed every penny.

  “Correct,” Misty verified, adding a decisive nod.

  Stephanie had never subscribed to any particular method when it came to the opposite sex. Although judging from her disastrous track record in the love department, maybe she should’ve been doing just that. “And you actually followed these um…rules?”

  “Yes.”

  Questions were whizzing around in Stephanie’s brain like racecars on a track, but there was one that was definitely leading the pack. “Why?”

  A knowing grin pulled at the corners of Misty’s heavily glossed lips. “It started because I got so damn tired of wasting my time on guys that weren’t worth it. A couple years ago, I had just broken up with a guy who I dated for over a year even though I knew, knew, on the first date that he wasn’t right for me. But I was lonely and I projected all this stuff onto him that I shouldn’t have. After we broke up I was so mad at myself for the months, years that I’d wasted on the wrong guy.

  “Then one night, about a week after the breakup, I was hanging out with my brother and his friends at The Plate and this girl walked in. One of the guys in the group was seeing her at the time and he told us that she had four-means-more potential. I had no idea what they were talking about and they explained that when it came to hookups they lived by a code. One and done. They liked someone, hooked up, and moved on. That was it. No follow up, no second date. Then there was two and through. They liked someone enough to see them again but then had no interest in a three-peat. Three and free was basically a third hookup but then getting out before things got serious, thus the free. And four means more was still being invested and wanting to spend time with someone after four encounters.

  “For some reason their ridiculous code clicked in my head. I’d been forcing long-term relationships on one and dones, two and throughs, and three and frees. So, I took a page from my brother and his friends. They didn’t meet someone and immediately start planning their wedding like I did. After that day I stopped looking at every guy I met as potential husband material.

  “Instead, I started evaluating guys I dated and putting them in these categories. It was liberating. I didn’t waste time on guys just because I wanted to be with someone. I felt empowered. It was the best two years of my life which finally led me to this.” The blonde beauty lifted her hand causing the two and a half carat rock that sat on her ring finger to sparkle under the overhead fluorescent lights. “In three months I’m marrying the man of my dreams. If I hadn’t been living by the code I would’ve probably spent a good six months on a two and through and not been single when I met Julian.”

  Her friend was happily engaged to a professional football player and obviously attributed her engagement to the code system that she’d just laid out. The same code system she was turning into a self-help book.

  “And you want me to follow this code and report back to you?” Stephanie clarified, wanting to know exactly what she would be signing up for.

  “That’s the basic idea. But just so you know, it is totally anonymous. I won’t know that it’s you and no one else will either. I need data. My agent loves the book proposal. My title is Casting Love and I’m giving the code a Hollywood take, to make it more palatable and marketable. The tagline is: You are the leading lady of your life, are you ready to cast your leading man? One and done is going to be: The Audition. Two and through is going to be: The Callback. Three and free is going to be: The Screen Test. And four means more is: Booking the Role.”

  Stephanie nodded. The Hollywood spin didn’t surprise her. She remembered that Misty had always had a flare for the dramatic. The girl had starred in every school play and musical from first grade all the way through senior year. And she had to admit, it was kind of genius. Although Stephanie had never had a burning desire to “cast her leading man” she knew that she was in the minority.

  Misty went on, radiating enthusiasm as she explained, “The proposal was accepted and I have a publishing date, but I need to have more than just my own experiences in it or it’s a biography. So, I’m calling on all my single ladies. I have a website set up and when you login you’ll be given a random ID number. No names are ever used. Then, all you need to do is follow the code and input your findings for six months.”

  As straightforward as that sounded there was one, fairly big, problem.

  “I don’t really date,” Stephanie admitted.

  It’d been a good four years since she’d dipped her toes in the dating pool. The hiatus was a result of her last swim in those waters ending i
n a large, painful belly flop that hadn’t only stung, it also knocked the wind right out of her. Since then she’d determined it was best to stay on dry, single ground. Sure, it might be lonely but at least there was no chance of drowning.

  “I know, Steph.” Misty’s tone indicated that it was common knowledge, like saying grass is green or the sky is blue. “But that’s by choice. If you wanted, your dance card would be full. I heard the new hot, hot, hottie anesthesiologist has been asking you out, not to mention I ran into Mrs. Chatsworth and she said that Mason is back in—”

  “Don’t,” Stephanie cut her friend off. “Don’t mention it.”

  Mason Augustus Chatsworth III was the last person that Stephanie would ever consider dating…or dating again. Actually, that wasn’t true. If he was the very last person on this earth and the entire human race depended on her procreating with him, the species would become extinct.

  “Sorry.” Misty raised her hands in mock-surrender. “My bad, not him. But someone. You’re what, twenty-five?”

  “Almost twenty-six,” she pointed out. Her birthday was in a month.

  “You have the career you’ve always wanted. You’re smart, spunky and smokin’ hot. I mean do you know what people would pay to have your gorgeous, natural red hair, your perfect complexion, full lips and pinup curves?! Come on, you’re like every guy’s wet dream come to life. You live alone. You’re settled. And your family stuff is…better. Right?”

  Stephanie may not agree with her friend’s physical assessment, but her other observations were fairly accurate. She had always wanted to be an RN and she was. She was still renting, but she lived alone. And her “family stuff” as her friend had so delicately put it, was better. The twins were doing okay…for now. Knock on wood. Scott was finally in a facility that he was happy and flourishing in and Simone was doing well in college. And her mom, well, she hadn’t heard from her mom since her eighteenth birthday. Which was for the best.

  Misty smiled broadly. “It’s time. This is your time.”

  “You’re really going in for the hard sell.” Stephanie grinned as she lifted her can of pop and took a sip. She contemplated her friend’s enthusiasm as the caffeine-infused carbonated beverage slid down her throat. Curiosity was getting the better of her, but as she set the can down, she reminded herself of the cat’s fate after following said path. More information. That’s what she would need before she could make a decision. “How many people have you asked to do this that turned you down?”

  “Turned me down? Are you kidding me? No one. My goal was twenty participants and I already have triple that. Word is spreading like wildfire, and I have people lining up. Just this morning thirty people registered. But, I want you.”

  “Why?” Stephanie and Misty had always gotten along, they’d been friends, but not close friends. Just like everyone in Stephanie’s life who’d all been kept at a safe distance. “Why me?”

  “Because if anyone deserves a happily-ever-after, it’s you.” Sincerity shimmered in Misty’s vivid green eyes. “And that’s not a pitch, that’s the truth.”

  “Everyone deserves a happily-ever-after.” Stephanie dismissed her friend’s statement because she knew that she wasn’t special. Life had taught her that cold, hard fact at a very early age.

  Misty shook her head and her shoulder length hair swayed back and forth as she let out a forced laugh. “No. Everyone does not. But you do. I want you to do this because I’ve seen how hard you’ve had to fight, since you were a kid, for every ounce of happiness.” Taking a deep breath, her friend who’d talked about sex like she was discussing the weather now lowered her voice. “You have always amazed me. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve had so much responsibility and never complained about any of it. You basically raised your brother and sister when you were still growing up yourself, and yet I’ve never heard you complain and you always have a smile on your face.”

  Shock washed over her. She was stunned that Misty had noticed any of that. It wasn’t that Stephanie thought she and her family were invisible, it was more like she simply felt like everyone was so busy and involved with their own lives that why would they give hers a second thought?

  Her dad left a year after the twins were born when it was obvious that Scott had developmental issues, not to mention general health problems. Once her father ghosted on them, her mother checked out. She concentrated on dating and drinking, leaving Stephanie to do the heavy lifting when it came to caring for Scott and Simone. She’d done the best she could, but it’d been a thankless job. Hearing Misty lay it out so plainly left Stephanie blinking back tears.

  Misty continued, “I remember one day in Ms. Paxton’s eighth grade homeroom, a bunch of us didn’t have the book report that was due and everyone else made excuses, I remember Sophie Hunter, er…now Sloan, said that her dog ate it and everyone laughed because she didn’t have a dog. I said that it must’ve fallen out of my backpack on the way to school! Everyone had an excuse but you. You just sat quietly. She knew we were all full of it when she started asking us questions about the book and we didn’t know the answers.

  “When class was over you walked up to the teacher’s desk and asked if there was anything you could do to make up the credits. You didn’t whine, you didn’t try to defend yourself or ask if you could turn the paper in late. Ms. Paxton asked why you didn’t have the paper and you explained that your brother had drawn on it and decided that it was his and you didn’t want to upset him by taking it back. Ms. Paxton then asked you about the book and you answered every single question. You actually had read the book and done the report.”

  A vague memory of that happening flitted through Stephanie’s mind. Scott had gone through a stage where anything he drew on he became very possessive of and would get extremely agitated, sometimes violent, if it was taken away from him. It had been a lot to navigate at twelve and she hadn’t always handled those situations the best. But they’d both made it through.

  The trip down memory lane brought with it more feelings welling up in her chest and, just like the tears, she fought them down. Emotions were oil to Stephanie’s water; they didn’t mix. After taking a few college courses in psychology it became clear to her that she’d avoided them as a coping mechanism. Numb on the inside, happy on the outside was her default. Suddenly she was finding it difficult to remain on emotional autopilot.

  In an attempt to lighten the mood, Stephanie teased, “So you want me to do your project because you know I’ll do the homework?”

  “See!” Misty’s arms flew up. “You’re funny, too. Looks, brains, and wit…you’re the total package. You have to do this! Please say yes.”

  Still not convinced that this was something she should do and becoming increasingly uncomfortable with all of the compliments that Misty was showering on her, Stephanie did what anyone would…she took a bite of her sandwich to stall.

  “Oh good. Just the people I was looking for.” Chelle Sloan bounced on her heels after stopping at their table. “You guys are coming to the reopening tomorrow night, right?”

  Chelle’s husband Riley Sloan owned a successful bar in New Orleans with a few of the guys he’d served with in the Marines. When the owner of The Plate, which was a staple in Harper’s Crossing, put it up for sale last month Stephanie heard that he and a few guys he worked with had scooped it up. Everyone in town was talking about it.

  Growing up she’d always loved going to The Plate. It was a rare splurge in her family since money was always tight, a consequence of depending solely on the check her dad sent every month since her mother never actually worked herself. The restaurant sat on the Riverwalk and the side that faced the water was floor to ceiling windows. It had two levels, the lower held a restaurant and the upper boasted a bar. They’d closed it for the last few weeks for remodeling and Stephanie couldn’t wait to see what they’d done with the place.

  Since her mouth was still filled with her BLT, Stephanie nodded and gave a thumbs up.

  “I’ll be there.”
Misty responded.

  “Great!” Chelle clapped. “I’m so excited for you guys to see it. It looks so amazing. There’s a full stage and Chase is performing a new song with a surprise special guest.”

  Chase Malone was a bona fide rock star who’d grown up in Harper’s Crossing, but left when he was a teenager. Now he was back and married to Riley’s cousin Krista, who also happened to work with Misty in the physical therapy department at the hospital. He was currently producing his third solo album and word was that he’d been collaborating with some pretty amazing artists.

  Misty clapped her hands excitedly. “I know who it is. Krista accidently slipped up when we were at happy hour the other night.”

  “Can you believe she’s actually going to be here?!” Chelle exclaimed as she glanced back and forth between them.

  “I don’t know who she is,” Stephanie shrugged her shoulders.

  Chelle and Misty both leaned forward and whisper-mouthed simultaneously, “Virginia Valentine.”

  Stephanie’s eyes widened. She’d always loved country music. It told stories of heartbreak, survival and overcoming difficult odds. And Virginia Valentine was Nashville’s reigning sweetheart. Her voice was clear, full and soulful. Her talent didn’t stop there; she also wrote all of her own music and although her songs were popular on the pop charts they were true blue country. “Crossing Hearts” and “Head Over Heels” were two of her favorite songs of all time.

  “Seriously? Virginia Valentine is going to come to Harper’s Crossing?”

  “Yes!” Chelle beamed. “And they’ll be debuting their brand new single at the party.”

  A vibrating buzz sounded and all three women checked the devices attached to their waist.

  “It’s me,” Chelle sighed with a wave. “Gotta go, I’m so glad you’re both coming.”

  Stephanie watched her friend cross the cafeteria as excitement bubbled up in her like a dishwasher that’d been filled with hand soap. She’d been looking forward to the event but now she was ecstatic.