Wandering In Love

by Andi Jaxon

  Wandering in Love

  Written in the Stars Novella

  Andi Jaxon

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Andi Jaxon

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address:

  authorandijaxon@gmail.com

  Cover design by Cover Me Darling

  www.andijaxon.com

  Foreword

  Dear Readers,

  Do you believe in destiny? Or do you believe you drive your own fate when it comes to matters of the heart?

  The idea for the Written in the Stars series came about one afternoon as I was thinking about how intertwined we are with the universe and the cosmos—we’re made of stardust, after all. It got me thinking about astrology, and whether something as celestial as our Zodiac signs influenced how we behave in love. Some may call it pseudoscience, while others use their horoscopes daily to make major life, love, and career decisions.

  That’s how this series was born!

  Twelve months. Twelve wickedly talented romance authors. All coming together to answer the age-old question—Does your horoscope decide your fate in love?

  You’ll have to decide for yourself as you binge-read your way through twelve deliciously sexy and deeply romantic stand-alone novellas—one for each Zodiac sign. I can’t wait to start this journey with you. Personally? I think it was written in the stars!

  XO,

  C.M. Albert

  P.S. Please join us in our fun and interactive Written in the Stars readers’ group at where we discuss all things horoscope and love related!

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Crashing into Love

  Written in the Stars Series

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  IAN

  Climbing from the Sheriff’s office rig, I sigh at the fight in front of me. Rick and Johnny are rolling around on the ground, throwing punches like a couple of toddlers, with dirt creating a cloud at the commotion.

  Shaking my head, I hurry toward them. “Hey! Break it up!”

  I grab the closest shirt and pull, catching an elbow to the ribs for my trouble.

  “Next one to swing is going down to the station to cool down!” I holler.

  My younger brother, Will, grabs Rick and helps me keep the two boneheads separated.

  “What happened this time?” I look at Johnny, standing between the two best friends that fight more than anything else. I swear, once a week, I’m breaking up a bar fight starring these two.

  “He stole my horse!” Johnny yells, anger flushing his face, his breathing ragged from the tussle.

  With raised eyebrows, I turn to Rick. “You stealing from your best friend now?”

  Rick huffs. His breathing and red face match his so-called best friend.

  “I didn’t steal no horse!” he yells back before a smirk turns his lips. “I just moved him is all.”

  Will tries not to laugh, but fails, doubling over and leaning on his knees.

  “You ain’t helpin’.” I shove him out of the way. “Where’s the horse, Rick?”

  He shrugs.

  “Listen. You have an hour to find that horse before I arrest your ass for theft.”

  “Yes, sir.” He takes off for his truck and peels out of the parking lot toward his ranch.

  I’m not much older than Rick and Johnny. They were in Will’s graduating class, and Johnny works for my parents. I’m the youngest sheriff this town has had in a hundred years, and the people are struggling to adjust to me. The last sheriff retired last year and recommended me for the job. We had a town meeting, and it was a unanimous vote for me to step in to fill the role. I’ve been fighting for the respect of everyone older than me ever since. The guys I grew up with are fighting it too. It’s damn exhausting.

  I was made for this job. I’ve been working in the sheriff’s office since I was fifteen. I started out just answering the phone and filing paperwork, but Burt caught me reading reports and case files. I was picking things apart, putting pieces together, so he started mentoring me. At thirty, I have fifteen years of experience policing this damn town. You would think the people around here would respect that, but to them, I’m still little Ian Rojas. Half the old ladies are still trying to hook me up with their granddaughters.

  Checking my watch, I sigh and head down to Betty’s Diner for lunch. It’s the only diner in town and makes the best food around.

  The parking lot is about full when I pull in, but it’s eleven, so I’m not surprised. The bell on the door rings as I step inside; the scent of fried food and coffee hits me, and my stomach grumbles.

  “Morning, Sheriff!” Betty hollers from the kitchen.

  “Mornin’,” I nod to her, taking a seat at the counter.

  Betty’s been cooking in this place since before I was born. I have a feeling we’ll have to carry her out of here on a stretcher when the Good Lord comes calling. Her gray hair is up in a net on top of her head; bright red lipstick and dark eye shadow give her some color.

  Her granddaughter, Bianca, pours me a cup of coffee.

  “Your usual, Sheriff?” the quiet girl asks.

  I nod at her as I take a sip of the piping hot liquid. There’s something about the petite girl that reminds me of my own momma. She’s seventeen, barely five feet, blonde, and quiet with a sweet demeanor, but from what I hear, she doesn’t take any shit from the boys. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her glancing Will’s way more than once. His gaze has lingered on her too, but he knows better than to touch her until she turns eighteen.

  She scribbles my order on her pad and sticks it on the clip in the window for Betty.

  I’m a creature of habit. I wake up every day at five a.m., shower, and dress for work. I eat the same breakfast: bacon, eggs, hash browns, and toast with a cup of coffee. At eleven, I eat lunch at Betty’s, a club sandwich with extra mayo, French fries, and whatever fruit she’s got on hand. I close up the office and forward my calls to my cell phone at six p.m., stop in at The Rack Shack—one of the local bars where most of the ranch hands hang out—then head home and have steak and potatoes for dinner. My hair and beard are trimmed every two weeks like clockwork.

  I’m a simple man. I like routine and knowing what to expect. This job is always throwing curveballs at me, so the rest of my life has to be in order.

  The only exception was my wildflower, Eva Trent. She was spontaneous, wild, and always looking for adventure. I thought we would get married and have kids, but she left town one day and never looked back. At twenty years old, my world flipped upside-down, and it’s never recovered.

  Chapter Two

  EVA

  The dark storm clouds follow me into town, and the Welcome to Willow Springs sign mocks me as I drive past it. It’s been ten years since I’ve been here, though I wasn’t far away. Merely two hours down the highway in a town with too many people that was easy to get lost in.

  Main Street hasn’t changed since I left. The same sleepy storefronts run by the same people, retelling the same stories. It’s both nice to be back and a headac
he. I’m sure everyone will be talking about this in the morning. Everyone will know I’m here, and the rumor mill will be busy guessing as to why.

  Momma lives a few streets down, next door to Rojas Ranch. Passing the entrance of the ranch that raised me has my broken heart squeezing harder. I fell in love on that land with the sweet boy that lived there. Before I knew what love was, my fate was sealed, and I was head over heels for Ian Rojas. He was my first kiss, my first time, my first everything.

  Pulling into my old driveway, I shut the engine off and sit. The house hasn’t changed much. A new coat of paint is all I can see from here. Some things never change, and this town is one of them.

  Dragging my tired bones to the door with the only bag I packed, I knock on the door and wait. It’s weird to knock on the door of the house I grew up in, but I haven’t been here in ten years—exactly ten years—and no one knows I’m coming. I left with no explanation, just a few weeks before Christmas.

  The door opens, and Momma stands there, frozen in shock.

  “Surprise.” I try to smile, but it falls flat.

  Instead of a happy, reunited hug, I break into tears and cover my face.

  “Eva!” Momma cries, reaching for me and wrapping me in a tight hug.

  I’m several inches taller than her five-foot-four, but I’ll always be her baby girl. A hug from my momma is exactly what I need right now.

  “Come on, baby. Come inside.”

  I allow her to usher me into the house. My face is red and blotchy from crying, my heart heavy. Sometimes, you just need to go home to get your head on straight.

  I drop down onto the brown couch that has seen better days, but is still just as comfortable as I remember it, as the phone in the kitchen rings. Momma still has a landline. The blue phone with a long curly cord hangs on the wall by the entrance to the kitchen like it always has.

  “Hello?”

  I’m almost positive it’s one of the old biddies that stick their nose in everything, calling to see who’s at the house, since they don’t recognize my car. Frankly, it’s not even mine. It’s Brad’s. The bastard. He may eventually get it back, but he’ll have to come fetch it.

  “Yes, Esther, I know there’s a strange car in my driveway. It’s Eva.”

  I roll my eyes—called it—and kick off my shoes and socks. It’s the sheriff’s wife, the biggest gossip of them all.

  “I don’t know how long she’s staying. Alright, you have a good night. Tell Burt I said hello.”

  With a sigh, she hangs up the phone and starts a fresh pot of coffee. It’s what you do in a small town when there’s heartbreak. You make coffee and eat something. It doesn’t matter what time of the day it is, there’s always coffee.

  I look around my childhood home and find that nothing has changed. Not the paint on the walls, the way the furniture is arranged, or the pictures on the bookshelves. I’m sure my room is exactly how I left it too.

  Momma brings two steaming cups of coffee into the living room and hands one to me. My fingers are cold, and the hot mug burns my skin, but I don’t let go. I need to feel something other than betrayal.

  “It’s been a while,” Momma starts, sipping the steaming liquid.

  “Yes, it has.” My shoulders slump and I place my cup on the coffee table, staring at the light mocha color. “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, Eva,” she sighs. “You always had wanderlust. A thirst for adventure and the unknown. I knew you would leave one day.”

  “It was still a shitty way to go. I should have told you beforehand and kept in touch.”

  Guilt eats at me. What if something had happened to her? Would anyone have been able to find me?

  “Where have you been?”

  “Samson.”

  When she doesn’t say anything, I look up at her. She’s staring at me with a hurt so thick it suffocates me.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I see,” she says, putting her cup down and standing. “It’s late and I’m helping Melanie with a delivery tomorrow, so I have to be up early. I’m sure she would be happy to see you.”

  Melanie is the matriarch of Rojas Ranch. She’s an amazingly kind woman, but I wouldn’t want to fight her in a dark alley. She raised two boys while working that ranch, while her husband spent his days in the fields or with the horses.

  Momma heads to her bedroom, and the door shuts with a soft click. As I lean back on the couch, my head falls back, and I stare at the ceiling.

  This was a mistake. I should have stayed gone.

  The storm that was chasing me cracks overhead, the rolling thunder shaking the house. I can feel the power of the earth in my bones during the storms around here. Something about the way the town lies between the mountains makes the storms here better than they were in Samson. Standing, I head out to the porch and wait for the rain. After the thunder and lightning, there’s always rain. The power is displayed like a warning of her wrath, and then the rain comes and washes the sins away. I have a lot of sins I need cleansed from me.

  This street is pretty quiet; only a few families live out this way, so when the fat drops of rain start, I run into the road. My lavender hair whips around my face in the wind while my heart is rinsed clean. The scent of rain fills my nostrils and I open my arms wide, catching as much of the water as I can. My head falls back on my shoulders and I spin in a slow circle.

  This is what I needed. Just this.

  It’s cold, and I’m quickly drenched, but my soul is clean. My bare feet are soaking up all the energy the lightening has forced upon the earth. I’m high on energy and a clean heart.

  When I left this town and everyone behind, I was scared. Terrified. Things were being demanded of me that I wasn’t ready for. I was petrified of being stuck here forever, having not experienced life on my own.

  Looking back, I’m sorry I left the way I did. Ian and Momma deserved more from me. I have a lot to make up for.

  Chapter Three

  IAN

  My office phones have rung no less than six times in the last fifteen minutes. You would think the town was burning to the damn ground with the way these people are reacting to a strange car parked in front of Miss Trent’s house and a purple-haired girl standing in the street. No one seems to know anything else.

  “Stacy!” I holler as my phone rings again.

  “Yes, Ian?” the flirty blonde that’s about ten years younger than me asks, leaning against the door to my office.

  I’ve known her since she was in diapers and she’s the daughter of the last sheriff. If I want to keep my head where it’s currently located, I’ll keep my distance from her. Her daddy is a damn good shot.

  “I’m going out to Miss Trent’s place to see what’s going on. Field these damn calls.”

  I’m out of my chair with my sheriff’s cap on and my gun at my hip, stalking toward the green SUV parked out front. Around here, we need vehicles with 4-wheel drive during the winter so SUVs and trucks rule supreme.

  Hopping inside, I grip the wheel and take a deep breath. Miss Trent doesn’t have visitors besides my family. Eva disappeared years ago, and no one has seen hide nor hair of her since. From what I understand, she doesn’t even call to check in.

  In a town this size, news travels fast, and we don’t get many people just driving through. We’re pretty secluded out here, and it’s the way we like it. Most of the folks are ranchers and like to be left alone.

  It’s a few streets over and past my family’s ranch to get to the house I’m looking for. There, in the middle of the street, is a drenched woman, standing with her arms out and her head back, looking completely at peace with her surroundings as she spins in a circle.

  Pulling to a stop at the end of the driveway, I grab my jacket and step out.

  “Excuse me, ma’am?” I call out, heading directly toward her.

  Her head comes up and she stops spinning when she’s facing me. Bright green eyes stop me in my tracks. I know those eyes.

  They haunt my dreams.

/>   Every woman I’ve dated has been compared to her and found wanting.

  My wildflower.

  Eva Trent.

  With long strides eating up the distance between us, I reach for her nape and crash my lips to hers. Surprise, anger, frustration, every emotion I’ve had since she left is poured into this kiss. She doesn’t stand there and take my wrath but pushes back with her own.

  I demand entrance to her mouth, pushing against her lips. She makes me wait a second but gives in. Coffee and Eva explode over my tongue like a liquor I can’t get enough of. My heart stutters in my chest, skipping a beat at being this damn close to her. She was my everything.

  Wrapping her drenched hair around my hand, I control the kiss and limit her movement, diving deeper into her.

  Her hands grip my jacket, pulling me against her from chest to hip. Shivers wrack her body and I lift her into my arms, as her legs wrap around my waist. My cock is hard and aching between us. It’s been too long since I got laid, and even longer since I had her. Ten long damn years.

  She clings to me, just as desperate for me as I am for her. Every daydream I’ve ever had about how I would react to seeing her again have flown out the window. This girl has been mine since I was five years old. Even when I thought girls were gross, she didn’t count. Eva was mine.

  Carrying her into her momma’s house that I know as well as my own, I find her bedroom and close the door. She knocks my hat off and shoves at my jacket.

  Setting her on her feet, I reach for the bottom of her t-shirt and pull the dripping fabric from her body. The purple lace bra does nothing to hide the hard nipples inside.