by S. L. Scott
“The night of the attack at your apartment.”
“On the back of the ambulance?”
“Yep.”
She stares at me for a few seconds and asks, “What did I promise exactly?”
“That we could run away, just the two of us, and get married.”
Her shoulders ease and her smile reappears. Taking my face between her hands, she says, “Yes, Ethan Everest. I would run anywhere in the world with you. Marriage is a deal I’m happy to seal as long as it’s sealed with you.”
And we seal it with another kiss, right there on a fire escape in a small Bronx apartment.
And again later that night.
But that’s another story . . .
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The Resistance - the band shirt Singer wore in Everest is a hot bad boy rocker series. You can meet Johnny Outlaw, sexy lead singer, by clicking here: The Resistance
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**Ethan wears a Crowe Brothers concert T-shirt in Everest. This is a NEW Spin-off series of The Resistance coming in 2018. I cannot wait for you to meet Jet and Dallas Crowe.
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From New York Times Bestselling Author, S.L. Scott, comes a fun romp of a Rom-Com, Enemies-to-Lovers STANDALONE in February 2018.
Part I
The Resistance
Copyright © S. L. Scott 2014
The right of S.L. Scott 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 copyright. 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.
ISBN: 978-1-940071-15-2
Prologue
Prologue
I’m a fucking fool.
I’m not even sure how I got into this mess, but I know I need to get myself out of it. I look down at the hand on my thigh inching up higher and my stomach rolls. Squeezing out from between the tight confines of the third row in this van, a girl on each side wanting a piece of me, I fall over the seat into the cargo area and move away from their astonished stares. They’re speaking German and I don’t know what the fuck they’re saying, but I’ve been in this type of situation enough to know how it will end, if I let it.
Everything has changed… or sometime around my last birthday I changed.
I didn’t invite these chicks. Dex did. He’ll fuck’em all before the night’s through and the bad part is, they’ll let him. Thinking they’re special, that they’ll be the one to tame him. They’ll let him do what he wants just to be close to him.
Beyond this set up being predictable at this point, it’s really fucking old or I am, probably both. I ignore their taps on my shoulder and them calling my name. I ignore everything to do with them and focus on my phone.
On the inside, I’m freaking the fuck out that I’m sitting in the cargo hold of a huge van in Germany with attractive girls willing to do anything I want them to, but I prefer to look at a photo of a little blonde with hazel eyes. Freaking the fuck out might be an understatement.
I’m a player or was, supposed to be, maybe still am. I don’t keep score or anything like that, but I’ve slept with plenty of women, sometimes more than one at a time. I used to blame my lifestyle, but more recently, I realized I’m the common denominator in the bad relationships I’ve had.
The car comes to a stop and the driver rushes around to the back to let me out. I stumble while climbing out, and hurry inside away from the sound of my name being called. The girls will be upset when they realize I’m not staying to play, but Dex will be thrilled—more pussy for him.
Cory hops out from the front, and follows me. “Wait up,” he says, jogging to catch up.
When we reach the elevators, we look back. Dex is helping the girls out of the vehicle one-by-one. With a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, he’s sloppy, already drunk. He never lacks for female companionship. By the way he acts, I don’t see the appeal, but I don’t think that’s why they’re hooking up with him anyway.
Cory looks at me and nods once. “What’s up? What happened back there?”
The elevator doors open and we step in, pushing the button for our floor. “Over it. Over it all.”
“The girl from Vegas?”
“She’s not from Vegas, but yeah, I’ve kind of been thinking about her.”
When the brass doors reopen, we walk down the hall to our rooms. Cory and I don’t do small talk. We’ve been friends for years, best friends if I think about it.
“Maybe you should call her,” he suggests as we open our doors.
“Maybe I will.”
“Night.”
“Night,” I mumble and shut the door behind me.
Chapter 1
Holliday Hughes
“Comfort zones are like women. You have to try a few before you find the one that feels right.” ~ Johnny Outlaw
That damn lime and coconut song has been playing on a loop in my head, driving me nuts for hours. I make a mental note: Fire Tracy in the morning for subjecting me to that song twenty-thousand times yesterday. She called it inspirational. I call it torture after the first two times.
Rolling over, I look at the time. 4:36 a.m. I have four hours before I need to be on the road. This may be a business trip, but it will still be good to get away for a few days. I need a break. I’ve been in a bad mood lately. The spa and I have a date I’m really looking forward to. The thought alone relaxes me. I close my eyes and try to get a few more hours of sleep before I need to leave for Las Vegas.
I get two tops.
I tighten my robe at the neck. Just as I open my front door to get the paper, I hear a male voice say, “Hello?”
Peeking through the crack, I hold the door protectively in front of me just in case I need to close and lock it quickly. “Hi.”
“I’m your new neighbor. I just moved in last week. I’m Danny.”
Curious, I slowly stick my head out to get a better look at this Danny. Strands of my sandy blonde hair fall in front of my eyes, so I tuck it behind my ear and get an eyeful. To my surprise, he’s quite handsome and has a big smile. “Oh, um,” I say, dragging my hand down the back of my hair, hoping to tame the wild strands. “Hi. I’m Holli. Welcome to the neighborhood.”
He nods toward the paper on the bottom of the shared Spanish tiled steps that lead to our townhomes. “I’ll get your paper since you’re not dressed.”
“Thanks.” I watch him. He looks like he just got back from a run or workout—a little sweaty, but not gross, in that sexy kind of way. Or maybe Danny’s just sexy. He’s well built with short, brown hair and when he bends over, I notice his strong legs and arms. Well-defined muscles lead to—Oh my God! Not just my face, but my entire body heats from embarrassment. Hoping he doesn’t say anything about me checking him out, I turn away and start picking at a piece of peeling stucco near my house number. “Um, so are you settled in, liking your place?”
His chuckling confirms I was busted. But he’s a gentleman, so he acts as if it didn’t happen. “I like the neighborhood. The place is great,” he says. “I like all the space, especially the patio. I’m thinking of having a party to break it in, maybe in a few weeks after I finish unpacking.” He hands me the paper and takes two steps back. “You should stop by.”
Nodding, I look into his eyes. I think they’re brown, l
ighter than mine, more honey-colored. His offer is friendly, not a come on, which is good since we’re neighbors now. “Thanks for the invitation.”
Walking back to his door, he steals one more glimpse over his shoulder. “Have a great day. See you around, Holli.”
“Yeah, see you around.”
I shut the door, paper in hand, and fall against the wood with a smile on my face. One of my golden rules is not to date where I sleep, but I still appreciate that my new hottie neighbor is easy on the eyes. He might know it, but he doesn’t seem arrogant.
I lock the door and get ready to leave.
Los Angeles is hot, smoggy, and grey at this hour and I have a feeling it won’t be much different a few hours from now. I close the patio door and lock it, double checking for safety. After pulling the drapes closed, I take one last look around to make sure I’m not forgetting anything. I text Tracy and let her know I’m leaving. She doesn’t reply, but I’m not surprised. Her boyfriend proposed last night after six years of dating. Being the kind boss and friend I am, I let her out of this trip, so she could spend the weekend with their families to celebrate the engagement.
There are selfish reasons as well for letting her off the hook. I really don’t think I can handle hours of sitting in the car with her as she reads bridal magazines and plans every detail of her big day. After too many dud dates in the last couple of months, I’m not in the right frame of mind to plan her happily ever after.
With my garment bag in one hand and my suitcase in the other, I click the button, disarming my car’s alarm as I walk to my parking space. I've lived here a couple of years. I wanted a place near the beach that also had space for my office, and I was fortunate enough to find both in this townhome.
A meme I created went viral three years ago this month. Who knew a snarky-mouthed fruit would be the way I make my fortune. I took it though and ran with the brand, building it into a small empire I named Limelight. The company is lean and I keep my costs under control. My fortune has grown by a few million in the last year alone.
I back out onto the street and take the scenic route, one block up to the beach. Driving slowly along with my windows down, I let the sound of the waves and the smell of the ocean center me. At the first stoplight, I take one deep salty air breath, roll the window back up, and leave for Vegas.
An hour into the trip, Tracy calls. I answer, but before I have a chance to speak, she asks, “Can I please tell you all about it again?” Happy laughter punctuates her question.
“Of course. Tell me everything.” I’ll indulge her wedding fantasies because that’s what friends do… and because I have four hours to kill in the car. Listening to her takes my mind off the time and the miles stretching ahead of me as she relives every last detail of the proposal. Fortunately for me, she skims over the engagement sex.
Her excitement is contagious and because I’ve known her and her fiancé, Adam, for so many years, my happiness exudes. “Congratulations again.”
“Thank you for letting me stay home this weekend. You’ll be great and don’t be nervous. It’s just a rah-rah go get’em presentation and cocktail party. The rest of the time is all yours.”
“You know how much I hate these kinds of events.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Your company’s success speaks for itself.”
“Thanks. I’ll try to remember that.”
“Drive safely and squeeze in some fun.”
I laugh. “You know I’ll try. Bye.” When we hang up, I turn on some music and let the miles drift behind me.
After a stop for gas half-way and a coffee later, I enter the glistening city in the desert. Pulling up to my hotel, I valet my car and take my own luggage to my room after checking in. I like this hotel because of the amenities, but the men aren’t bad to look at either—a little edgy, a lot sexy—lucky for this single girl.
I spend a couple of hours checking emails and work on a proposal before I realize the time and need to get ready for the night. It’s Vegas, so I mix business with some sexy. I pull on a black fitted skirt that hits mid-thigh, an emerald green silk camisole with spaghetti straps, and a short black jacket. I slip on my favorite new pair of stilettos and after one last check of my makeup and hair, I head out.
The meet and greet isn’t long, but I slip out at one point to use the restroom. As I’m walking back toward the ballroom, I’m drawn to a man standing with a group of people nearby. His magnetism captures me. He might just be the best looking man I’ve ever seen—tall, dark hair, strong jaw leading me up to seductive eyes aimed at me. His head tilts and for a split second in time, everyone else disappears. I break the connection by looking away, everything feeling too intense in the moment. When he laughs, I add that to his ongoing list of great attributes.
When I pass, the feel of his gaze landing heavy on my backside warms my body. With my hand on the door, I pause, wanting to look back so badly. I resist the urge, open the door, and return to the party. The presentation portion of the evening is interesting. Despite that, my thoughts repeatedly drift back to the hot guy in the corridor—fitted jeans, black shirt, leather wristband. Damn I’m weak to a leather wristband.
I’m mentally brought back to the presentation when my company is recognized as one to watch. The acknowledgement is nice, and it feels good to be among my peers.
The dinner becomes more of a party as everyone wanders around instead of taking their seats. I’m not hungry and need to psych myself up to mingle. Tracy is awesome in these types of situations. Me, not so much.
The ballroom is dimly lit, I’m guessing to set the ambiance, but since this is business, I can do without the romance. I head straight for the bar just like everyone else—one big cattle call to the liquor to make the rest of the night a little more bearable.
“I usually hate these things,” I hear from the guy behind me. When I look over my shoulder, he gives me a half-smile—half-friendly, half-creepy. “But they don’t usually have attractive women either.”
I roll my eyes while turning my back on him and his cheesy pick-up line.
“I’m sorry. That was bad. I know,” he says with a weird nasally laugh.
His breath hits my neck and I jerk back. “Do you mind? Ever hear of personal space?”
“Sorry. You’re just really pretty.” He shrugs as if that makes everything better. “Your beauty is making me stupid.”
“You think?” Big mistake.
He actually takes my sarcastic comment as a conversation opener. “Yes, I do. But I can’t be the first to be dumbfounded by your beauty.”
Standing on my tiptoes to see how many more people are in front of me, I exhale, disappointed by the long line. One person in line would have been too many at this point. “Excuse me,” I say and slip out of line. I find the table with my name tag on it, set my purse down, and take off my jacket. This hotel ballroom is crowded and too warm.
Saved by a friendly face, I see Cara, a marketing strategist I know from L.A. Weaving between the tables, I sit down in a chair next to her. With her eyes focused on the paperwork in front of her, I ask, “Working during the party?”
She looks up, smiling when she sees me. Opening her arms, she leans in and hugs me. “Holli, it’s so good to see you.”
I went with a different company than hers for a campaign a while back and glad she’s not holding it against me. “Good to see you again.”
“Congratulations on your success. Well deserved.”
“I’m not sure if a smartass lime deserves the success it’s gotten, but I’ll take it.”
She taps my leg. “You deserve it. It’s funny and quite catchy. Just take the accolades.”
“Thanks.”
Looking over my shoulder, she leans in and whispers, “I’m skipping out of here early, but I’m meeting a few people for dinner tomorrow. If you’re still in Vegas, you should join us.”
“I’d love that. Thanks.”
She stands up and grabs the papers in front of her.
“Fantastic. I’ll text you the details tomorrow. I’m so glad we ran into each other.”
“Me too. See you tomorrow.”
I’m left sitting alone. When I look around the room, like Cara, I’m thinking that skipping out early might be the way to go. If I do, I know Tracy will kick my ass, so I decide to suffer and give this party one last chance. But I definitely need a drink and the line for the bar in here is still way too long.
I head for the doors to buy a drink in one of the many hotel bars—any bar without a line. Guy from the bar line jumps in front of me as I try to exit, startling me. “Hey, hey, hey. You’re not leaving already, are you?”
Since my glare and earlier hints didn’t work, I reply, “I’ll be back, no need to worry yourself.”
His head starts bobbing up and down, confidently, and a big Cheshire cat grin covers his face. I start walking again as he keeps talking… again. “Cool. I’ll see you later then.”
I feel no need to respond to the come on, and will try to avoid him when I return. Following the wide-tiled path through the casino, which reminds me of the Yellow Brick Road, guiding me to what feels like Oz, a bar in all its gloriousness with no lines in site. Inside the darkened room, the sounds of the casino fade away as current hits play overhead. Still on a mission for a cocktail, I step up to the bar and wait.
If you would like to continuing reading The Resistance and meet Holliday and Johnny, click here: THE RESISTANCE
On a Personal Note
Everest was a labor of love for over one and a half years. I loved spending time with these characters as the story developed and seeing them come alive in their own world.
I owe so much to the team that took this journey with me. Each person adds so much to make this story shine. Thank you: Adriana Locke, Amy Bosica, Andrea Johnston, Heather Maven, Irene Chart, Karen Lawson., Kristen Johnson, Lynsey Johnson, Marion A., Marla Esposito, and Melissa Krehley.
