by Jennifer Ann
Lorenzo was a buddy from the neighborhood where I grew up and acted as my manager in the very beginning when I was a no-name. Then the band got signed and the studio wanted me to use theirs, an uptight bitch who seemed more interested in getting her hands down my pants. I insisted on using Lorenzo and said without him there wouldn’t be a deal. I wanted him to reap in some of the benefits of my success, though I’m not about to give him any fucking handouts. He has to earn it just like I did. For the most part he does a good job. He even knows when to keep our relationship professional and when to razz me in private.
“Maybe it’s time to lay off the booze for awhile,” he suggests with a casual shrug. “Not that you have a problem or anything, but we both know what a fucking disaster it was the last time you were with two chicks. You’ve always have a problem saying the word no. And bringing them here? Dude, you broke your most sacred rule!”
Running a hand through my hair I groan. “No shit. I can’t tell you what I was thinking. Like I said, I can’t remember any of it, so I can’t even tell you if they were any good.”
“I say this out of love, but you’re a stupid motherfucker. The only time two chicks wanted to get with me, one had a third nipple and the other gnawed on my dick like it was a T-bone.” Chuckling, he rubs at the back of his neck. “You are one lucky bastard, though I would think one of these days this scene will get old. Don’t you wanna knock some poor girl up and give her your last name? You could drag her and the rugrats around the country on your tour bus. You’d have someone to cook for you and keep your bed warm at night.”
“I’m in no hurry to settle down,” I remind him. “Chicks are just something to keep me warm at night.”
Shit. I think I stole that line from Danny.
“Fuckin’ Romeo,” Lorenzo grumbles, shaking his head and chuckling. “Somewhere deep down there must be some redeeming feature that makes you so popular with the ladies. We all know it isn’t that gravelly voice or your ugly mug.” Grinning, he juts his square chin across the hallway. “Shower that rank pussy off and get dressed, loser. I’ll take care of your little mistake and then we’ll hit Molly’s for bagels and coffee.”
My stomach growls in agreement, so I nod and hit him in the chest. “Thanks, man. If I’m ever dumb enough to walk down the aisle, do me a favor and talk me out of it. That shit’s not for me.”
“You just haven’t met the right one, brother. When you walk down the aisle one day, my ass better be standing right next to you.”
“When pigs fly and I decide to settle down with one chick for the rest of my life, you’ll be my best man,” I mutter, ready to be done with this ridiculous conversation. There’s nothing good about my life worth sharing in that way. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Yeah and I’m holding you to it!” he calls out as I slam the door in his face.
GRAB YOUR FREE COPY!
The Secrets Between Us
PRAISE FOR THE SECRETS BETWEEN US
"Holy....cow are you in for a ride! This book has it all a hot girl, a Navy SEAL, his arrogant brother and a lifetime of secrets between two families." ~Goodreads
"The plot and writing is simply fantastic! I definitely plan on reading more from Jennifer Ann, and I can't recommend her enough! And I pretty sure my friends are sick of hearing me talk about this book." ~Cara's Book Boudoir
“What a crazy, messed up, incredible story. The story line was intense, brutal, fun, reminiscent, and fun to read. When I say intense, I mean sitting up straighter, tearing at your nails, gripping your kindle a little harder; whatever you too as you get sucked into a story!” ~Archaeolibrarian - I Dig Good Books!
* * *
Some people keep secrets because the truth is too painful.
He keeps secrets to avoid losing her.
She keeps secrets to deliver revenge.
Seven years have passed since Cameron Quinn and Lincoln Farrington were high school sweethearts.
Seven years since she last saw him as the cops were taking him away.
Seven years since he left her to become a Navy SEAL.
When he suddenly comes back into her life, she’s forced to choose between following her heart, or sticking to a plan that would almost certainly destroy him.
His secrets brought them together.
Her secrets will tear them apart.
ONE
QUINN
Being here is an unforgivable betrayal to the man I’ve promised to be with for the rest of my life. The man I’ll one day stand beside in a church packed with friends and family, vowing to devote my eternal love and faithfulness.
But I don’t care. None of that’s real anyway.
And I had to see Lincoln again.
After all, I owe him my time. Even more so, I owe him the past seven years of his life.
Beads of perspiration line my forehead as I watch the front of the coffee shop without blinking, willing the boy I once loved with all my heart to step through the door. My heart skips to an erratic beat when I check my smart phone for the seventh time to confirm what I already know: he’s late. What if he’s changed his mind about wanting to meet?
It was dumb luck that I came across his recent email. I stopped using that account after high school, knowing “littleballerinagirl” was ridiculous. Yet I can’t help thinking maybe it wasn’t so much dumb luck as it was fate. My mom sent a text that same day, letting me know that she had emailed pictures to the old email address of a kitchen table she purchased at the flea market.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise that she would think I was still using that account since she was strung out on prescription drugs for a handful of years after my dad’s death. He’s the one who had bestowed the “Little Ballerina” nickname on me when I was four because I was always twirling around the house instead of walking. On my tenth birthday I was allowed to open the account for the purpose of emailing my dad while he was working late nights, which was almost daily. I swear sometimes my mom thinks I’m still that same little girl even though, for longer than I care to dwell on, I’m the one who kept us from living out on the streets or starving to death.
Movement at The Grind’s entrance catches my eye. I suck in a sharp breath, slowly letting it out as a couple around my age enters. The guy’s arm is slung around his girlfriend’s shoulders and she clings to his wrist, leaning into him. They’re both grinning like their life is pure gold, and nothing could bring them down. With a stabbing pang of sadness, I realize I haven’t felt that blissfully happy since high school.
Since Lincoln.
Rubbing at the pale strip of skin on my ring finger, I feel a slight indentation where my three carat diamond belongs. Pamela noticed I wasn’t wearing it before I left the office, so I told her I was getting it cleaned. I couldn’t tell her the truth. If by some miracle Lincoln hasn’t already heard, he won’t understand. Hell, no one would understand if they knew the whole truth. But Lincoln was always quick to form an opinion based on his emotions, so I have to plan this out carefully. As difficult as it will be to break the news to him, I have to be considerate in the event he doesn’t know, and let him down easy. He deserves that.
I stare at The Grind’s logo on the cup of cooling coffee sitting in front of me with “Quinn” scribbled over it in black marker. I don’t know what possessed me to use that name, the one usually reserved for Lincoln, except it’s been useless to shake him from my thoughts since his email first appeared on my laptop’s screen.
Haven’t stopped thinking about you all this time. I realize you’ve probably moved on and started a different life, maybe even found a man that deserves you, but I have to see you again.
The words scratched at the back of my brain, keeping me awake for a string of endless nights. He’s the one who pushed me away. Why the sudden change of heart? As I considered meeting him like he asked, I played out the different ways the reunion might go, imagined the varying ways he’d look at me, and what he could possibly have to say.
After hig
h school, he completely abandoned social media. It was like he completely disappeared off the face of the earth. I don’t exactly know what he will look like now, although I have a pretty good idea. I saw a picture of him taken the day he had graduated boot camp, and he wouldn’t look much different than his brother aside from having more muscle. I almost wished I hadn't come across the picture, because it was hard not to feel a swell of pride seeing him in the navy uniform and white hat, posing in front of the US flag. I had to quickly remind myself that he’s no longer mine.
“Quinn?”
I nearly choke with the sound of my old nickname. My heart slams to a standstill against my ribcage as I drag my gaze upward and come into contact with soft, soulful brown eyes surrounded by dark lashes. They’re the same eyes that once possessed my heart, only now they’re shadowed with wisdom and reverence—maybe even a suggestion of hurt.
With the way he’s looking at me, I feel my world ending. The universe as I know it screeches to a halt. All at once I’m eighteen again, looking at the boy I knew would have my heart until the end of time.
“Linc.”
His name falls out as a whisper against my lips, filled with far more sentiment than I should’ve allowed. But the moderately shy boy I once loved has become a strong, confident man, broad and tall. Agony wrenches my chest when I absorb every last detail, realizing how much time has passed. Though he’s not in uniform, everything about him screams military. There’s no hiding his bulging muscles beneath a plain gray t-shirt and cargo shorts as he stands with a large khaki bag slung over one wide shoulder. A well-groomed beard frames his thick jaw, its dark color perfectly matching the closely cropped hair on his square head. Both arms are covered in detailed tattoos.
A great shudder trickles down my spine as my belly warms. He’s so…severe looking.
I’m not consciously aware that I’ve frozen on the stool while checking him out until I realize he’s doing the exact same thing to me. My entire body flushes with heat beneath his dark eyes as they thoroughly study every last inch, soaking in every detail that’s changed since the fateful night we last saw each other. He starts with my designer heels, dragging up my bleached skinny capris and beyond the edge of my ivory tunic to where my blond hair fans around the swell of my breasts. His gaze feels every bit as physical as a soft caress of his fingertips, turning me on in ways I can’t explain. Then again, he always had that kind of affect on me.
He catches me watching him, my lips parted with a bolt of longing, and he releases a deep, somewhat bashful chuckle. Shivering with the absurdly masculine sound of his voice, I snap my mouth shut. I’m unable to find anything humorous about the beautiful man standing before me. Proof of my desire seeps out between my legs, making it even harder to breathe.
An awkwardness hangs between us as his smile fades and we simply stare at each other, time disappearing as years worth of memories from happier times slowly resurface.
“Com’ere, you,” he says, dropping his bag at his feet and motioning for me to come to him.
Varied emotions crash into me as I stand and throw myself into his strong arms, holding back an unexpected burst of tears. The aroma of coffee disappears and my lungs fill with his fresh, clean scent, warming me from the inside out. I was convinced that I’d never feel his embrace again. Holding onto the only person who I once trusted fully with my heart is the closest feeling to being home I’ve known since my family was torn apart.
The embrace is nothing like those we had shared as love-struck teenagers, and not just because he’s twice as big and his body’s dense with muscle…everywhere. I swear I can feel remorse seeping out of him in the way he’s holding me. Face buried in the crook of my neck, he cradles me to him like he never plans to let go, crushing the air from my chest. It reminds me of that Looney Tunes cartoon he used to always watch in which the Abominable Snowman squeezes Daffy Duck and names him George. A bubble of hysteria slips from me, causing Lincoln to pull back.
“That’s not the kind of reaction I was expecting,” he says with a sexy-as-hell grin.
“Me either.” I laugh nervously, releasing him to dab at the corners of my eyes. “You look great, Linc. How was your flight?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “It was short…hardly got in the air before we got ready to land. I’m a little late because there was a mix-up with my bag.”
“I half expected you to be in uniform.”
“Nah, that makes us too easy of a target for the bad guys.” His unreadable gaze lingers on me a beat longer than I feel comfortable with. My heartbeat thuds unevenly against the hollow of my neck when his tongue appears to wet his lips. That tongue once showed me the real meaning of pleasure. It had the power to both lift me up and destroy me all at once.
Finally he looks away to glance around the busy shop, rubbing at one of his biceps like he has a sudden chill. “How long has this place been open?”
My throat thickens when it occurs to me how much he’s missed out on—how much the neighborhood has changed, and the friends we went to school with have moved away. “A few years.”
His big brown eyes flicker back to me. There was a time I’d do anything to feel the warmth of his gaze, because those were the rare occasions in which I knew I was loved unconditionally by someone—anyone—since my mom was too stoned to care about anything more than her next fix. Now he looks at me with curiosity, like he’s trying to figure out how much I’ve changed.
“You seem…different,” he tells me in a tone heavy with regret.
I want to throw myself back into his arms and assure him that I’m still the same girl who snuck into his room and watched scary movies under the covers where the rest of the world didn’t exist. I’m still the same Quinn he took care of after my first Crestridge Homecoming, and comforted after my world fell apart the night of senior prom. I’m still the same as my eighteen-year-old version who promised to love him forever before he unceremoniously changed his mind.
Holding my head high, I smile. “Can I get you something? Their cappuccinos are pretty legendary.”
His thick Adam’s apple bobs as he looks away again, scratching the back of his head. “Is High Top’s still open? I’ve only been back a few days and could really go for a good ol’ American craft beer.”
“Lincoln. It’s two in the afternoon.”
His eyebrows lift playfully. “So? It’s Friday. And I’m still coming off of Middle Eastern time. Don’t you drink anymore?”
The memory of the last time we got drunk together sends a deep ache spiraling though my chest. We ditched a friend’s pre-graduation party early and went back to his parents’ guest house where we made love and held each other until the sun came up, whispering plans for our future between lingering kisses.
Even if neither of us were to mention the past, there’s no chance we won’t revisit it with everything we say or do. The best years of my life were spent with a younger version of this gorgeous man. Every damn day since he left, something reminds me of what we had. What he threw away.
“What are you afraid of?” he asks with a teasing grin. “Breaking curfew?”
It’s another nod to happier days, and the way his eyes sparkle with mischief, he knows it. He was always quick to throw me a challenge, push me beyond my comfort zone because I didn’t fit in with the other kids. Yet he was the timid one who had to be coaxed into walking on the wild side, like the time we set off fireworks outside Sadie Emory’s house, and the night all his friends decided to skinny dip in his parents’ pool.
I’m terrified this is how it will begin, that every memory will unravel a feeling of what it was like to be his girl until I’m a raw bundle of exposed nerves and begging him to take me back.
Glancing down at my phone, I let out an indecisive sigh. I’d picked the popular coffee shop knowing it was safe. It’s always packed with customers on the weekends. High Top's is lucky to have a dozen patrons on their busiest nights, and the dark bar is filled with quiet corners that allow far too much privacy.
Caffeine is relatively harmless. Alcohol leads to confessions of oppressed feelings.
But Kellen won’t be back from his business trip until Monday night, and there’s virtually no chance any of our friends—old or new—would be hanging out at High Top's or anywhere in this part of the city. Plus I could really use a drink to take the edge off. At least maybe my hands would stop trembling.
“Fine, let’s go,” I decide, throwing him a playful eye-roll. “I’m parked out back.”
Swiping my purse from the back of the stool, I wait for him to throw his bag over his shoulder before following him to the exit. I stop to toss my cup in the trash on the way out and find him waiting, door held open. After I’ve stepped onto the sidewalk, he presses his fingertips against the small of my back and holds his other arm out to shield me from a wild group of young kids passing on skateboards.
My cheeks heat with a sensual rush. The military made a real gentleman out of the gangly teenager who was relatively shy about introducing himself the first time we met. How many women has he wooed into his bed over the last seven years? My stomach twists with the thought. It wouldn’t take much beyond his impressive muscles, a flash of his bright white teeth, and that sensual rumble of his voice. God, I bet they’re always lined up outside his door. With a body like that, how could they not be?
I’m thankful for the cool breeze that whips my hair over my face, hiding my flushed cheeks and cooling my libido.
“Are you still living around here?” he asks as we’re making our way around the corner of the building.
Thankfully he hadn’t asked a lot of questions when we exchanged emails, because he undoubtedly would’ve changed his mind about this meeting if he knew the whole story. Still, I’m well aware there’s a good chance I’ll be forced to tell him more than I’d like eventually, especially now that drinks will be involved.
