Twist My Heart (Wicked Games Book 1)

by Brooke Taylor

  She’d cried her tears. So many tears. For weeks. Wondering what had gone wrong to make Kyle decide to walk out on their life together, ending their wedding and honeymoon plans abruptly. Wondering what would come next. Looking at the space where his toothbrush used to sit next to the bathroom sink, looking at the empty space in the fridge where the special espresso he loved had always been kept, she’d felt a gnawing, painful ache in her chest, raw like a sucking wound. She’d sobbed into her pillow, worried she’d alarm the neighbors in the condo above. Her hot tears signaled the end of not just a seven-year-long relationship, but also of her dreams for the future. She’d cried so much she’d gone numb.

  She’d managed the chores of daily living—making food, getting dressed, going to work and to the store—but she’d felt like an imposter, like some zombie trapped inside the body of the vivacious, happy, hopeful woman she’d always been. She’d looked in the mirror and it had scared her. But still, nothing moved her anymore—not sadness, not anger, not understanding or judgment. Nothing. When the reminder from the travel agency had come through as an alert on her smartphone, the hot swell of anger had been as surprising as it had been fleeting. That spark was what had led her to do the crazy thing she’d done. Just to feel something, anything, she’d decided to take their honeymoon. Alone.

  Logically, the decision had been clear. She should go—two weeks in a remote section of the Yucatan Peninsula, staying at an exclusive hotel right on the beach. It was a two-hour-long ride in a Jeep on bumpy roads through the jungle to get to the collection of luxury cabanas, perched right at the edge of a wild natural preserve. Quite a journey, but it was supposed to be worth it. This was her dream trip, and it was almost entirely paid for already…and non-refundable. When they’d booked it, she hadn’t even had a nanosecond of concern about that portion of the terms and conditions. The idea that Kyle would have chosen not to go would have been laughable to her on that long-ago morning. After seven years of blissful love, she’d thought she’d known him inside and out. She had never been more wrong.

  The decision to come had been more complex. Could she handle the possible emotional roller-coaster of going on what was supposed to be the romantic trip of a lifetime by herself? Was she crazy to risk putting herself through a possible ordeal of ‘what-ifs’ and ‘might-have-beens’? But when she’d looked down at that small phone screen, slightly smudged from her fingers, and had again seen the hollow, eerie eyes in her dark reflection, she’d known. She was going to go. Her best friend, Marina, was the only one who seemed to understand and support her decision. Everyone else just looked at her like she’d lost her mind.

  She hadn’t been able to muster much enthusiasm for the packing, but still, even just knowing that she was packing to go had made her feel a little less frozen. Instead of staring at the same walls where she’d hung pictures with Kyle, or sitting on the same couch they’d spent several happy hours picking out at the furniture store, she would escape—or so she’d thought. But of course, she couldn’t ever escape. Not really. She couldn’t run away from herself.

  So here she stood, looking at the prettiest view she’d ever seen, hands-down. The warm breeze ruffled her hair and the air held the delicate scent of tropical flowers mixed with the tangy salt of the ocean. Even the sound of the waves lapping onto the soft sand was exquisite. Soothing. And she could appreciate it all, but only in the abstract. Here in paradise, she was still frozen. Annelise sighed and turned, determined to keep walking until she began to thaw, even if it was just a little. Maybe seeing the jungle would help. She’d read there were even toucans. She sighed again, more heavily this time, trying to feel a glimmer of her usual optimism. Marina’s voice replayed in her head, encouraging her. And with Marina’s own past sadness, her advice meant even more.

  ‘Go on, girl,’ her friend had said. ‘Don’t let that man take one more day of your life. You have too much in you left to give. Go wild! Do anything and everything because you never know what’s around the corner.’

  With those words in mind, Annelise doggedly continued, sinking her heels into the softer sand farther away from the waterline. It truly was incredible to be alone in such an unbelievably beautiful spot, and she hadn’t seen another soul all day. She turned her face to the water again as she walked, watching as the sky lit up into a symphony of purples, pinks and oranges as the sun began to dip toward the horizon. Without warning, she fell over something large on the ground, landing squarely on a warm, hard object, which gave a startled grunt.

  She scrambled up as quickly as possible, but not before she pressed up against the length of a tall, muscular man. He was warm and smelled of the ocean and the wind—and also a bit spicy, like some of the more exotic seasonings used in the local dishes. As she brushed herself off and stood as swiftly as she could, she just had time to realize that he smelled…incredibly good. For someone I apparently fell on like a ton of bricks. Smooth. Real smooth, Annelise.

  “I’m so sorry!” she apologized, feeling a hot blush rise from her hairline to her ears and even onto her chest. She knew her cheeks must be flaming.

  The stranger, dressed only in faded board shorts that might have been red once but were now a washed-out salmon, was covered in sand. It dusted his tan, muscular chest and sprinkled his dark-brown hair. He might have looked silly if he hadn’t been… Well, the only words that sprang to her mind were ‘unbelievably gorgeous’. No, that wasn’t true. She also thought ‘scrumptious’ and ‘hot as hell’. Mentally recalling herself, she realized he hadn’t responded to her apology.

  “Do you speak English? Español?” Annelise hoped he spoke at least a tiny bit of English, because her Spanish was abysmal. “Oh my gosh, did I hurt you?” she continued, worried.

  The man sat up with a little shake, and his mouth quirked into a wry smile, making his dark eyes crinkle at the corners. “No apology needed. I must have fallen asleep. I’m fine. No harm done. Although”—he gestured at the empty beach—“it was an unlucky coincidence that you should choose this one spot to walk onto.” His accent sounded French, and his tone was compelling as he spoke, inviting her to share his amusement, not only at their situation but also possibly at life in general.

  Annelise felt an unfamiliar smile tug at the corners of her lips. “I’m so glad you’re not hurt. And ‘unlucky’ should be my middle name,” she answered, the words out before she could recall them. It was totally unlike her to talk about her personal life with a complete stranger. Alone. On a deserted beach. Totally alone. She took an unconscious step backward.

  The stranger didn’t look as though he’d been lying in wait to trip unsuspecting tourists, though. He looked as if he belonged—and as if he was mildly interested in what she was saying. If he’d looked too interested, she might have shut down, but instead, she found herself answering the questioning quirk of his dark eyebrow.

  “I’ve…had a bit of a setback recently in my personal life,” she said. It was the understatement of the century.

  “Sounds like it was a bad one. Do you want to talk about it?” he offered, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, just two strangers watching a Caribbean sunset and talking about their personal lives. It suddenly occurred to her that he was the first person besides the unobtrusive security guards that she’d seen on the private beach this entire trip. She’d actually begun to think she must be the only guest at the cabanas. Her thoughts turned suddenly suspicious.

  “What are you doing on this beach? It’s supposed to be private and definitely a no-trespassing sort of place.” Her mind turned to the prominent guns she’d seen the security guards carrying, and she wasn’t sure if she was trying to intimidate or warn the stranger.

  The white of his smile on his tan face was stunning in the sunset. “Thank you for the warning, chérie, but I am a guest here…in the owner’s cabana.” He gestured with one long, muscular arm and Annelise noticed a path she hadn’t seen before, leading to what looked like a giant house. It was much larger than her own spaciou
s cabin.

  “Oh, right. The owner’s French, isn’t he?” Annelise answered, trying to recall the details she knew of the resort. She’d learned about it from her colleague, and the owner was a big-time client of the financial services firm where she worked.

  “French-Canadian,” the stranger corrected, raising his eyebrow again, “but I’ll let it slide just this once.”

  “Sorry…I know there’s a big difference,” she hastened to apologize. Great, she’d now offended a close friend of a client who could get her fired.

  The stranger shook his head. “I was teasing. I’m not so easily offended,” he said, bending up his knees and wrapping his arms loosely around them before motioning toward the soft-looking hollow next to him. “Care to join me? You can’t beat the view.”

  Again, his offer was casual. Careless, almost. But somehow that put Annelise at ease when she hadn’t been remotely at ease, anywhere, in months. He had a beautiful voice, dark and rumbling, deep and masculine. It was a good match for his tall, broad frame.

  “You’ve already been on top of me. Is it so bad to be next to me?” He waggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated way, and the bark of laughter that escaped her shocked her so much that she put a hand to her mouth. She sat down more out of shock than anything else.

  “I…can’t believe you made me laugh. I haven’t…felt like laughing in months.” She spoke her thoughts aloud, almost forgetting she wasn’t alone. Strange, but she felt such an instant camaraderie with the stranger that she already thought of him as a sort of friend.

  “The owner told me that there was supposed to be a couple on their wedding trip these weeks. But I have seen you alone?” He made the statement a question.

  Annelise felt some of the familiar grief at the word ‘wedding’, but somehow, it felt muted this time. She nodded slowly. “Yes, my fiancé Kyle left me three months before our wedding. We’d been together for seven years, so it was a surprise. I…thought we were in love. I loved him, very much. But he… His note said he didn’t want the same things anymore.”

  “Quel conard…putain de merde.”

  Annelise was surprised at the vehemence in his voice. It was real anger. It didn’t make her nervous, though. He sounded like she often felt toward Kyle.

  “I, ah…don’t remember my high-school French all that well, but I’m guessing what you just said wasn’t very nice.”

  The stranger’s easy grin split his face again, and it made him so handsome, even in the growing shadows of dusk, that it almost took her breath away. Still, she could see a real anger and pain behind the geniality.

  “I hope they don’t teach these words in high-school French.” He looked back out at the water, and the light blazed pink and red across his cheeks. “I said he was a fool. Well, something like that.”

  Annelise raised her eyebrows. “I appreciate it, but I could be awful, you know.”

  The man shrugged. A beautifully Gallic shrug that could mean anything. “You could be, but I don’t think you are. The catch in your voice, the sadness in your eyes… You loved this fiancé very much. You were committed. He hurt you.”

  His words hung in the sunset, heavy with meaning. He understood. Somehow, Annelise felt how much he really understood.

  “What was her name?” she guessed.

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  About the Author

  Brooke Taylor lives and writes from her country home in Oklahoma where her pets are a constant, but happy, distraction. When she’s not reading or writing, she enjoys horseback riding, going to the lake, and traveling.

  Brooke has worked extensively in the travel industry, from dude ranches to ski resorts to cruise lines. Her many overseas adventures include sky diving in New Zealand, scuba diving with sharks, sailing through hurricanes, and having her tent attacked by wild animals in the Mara game reserve in Kenya. Due to current health insurance rates, Brooke is letting her characters do most of the risk-taking from now on.

  Brooke loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website details and author profile page at https://www.totallybound.com