Taking the Plunge

by Kishan Paul

  She sat rooted in her seat as memories of her senior year filled her consciousness and with it, images of the kid she crushed on. Should she tell him? After all, he was the same kid who stood up for her at school when no one else would.

  He smiled back and waved.

  “I know,” she mumbled.

  Pete nodded. “There are things you don’t know. If you come up, I’ll explain the rest.”

  From her purse, she grabbed her cell. “Let me text Chris and tell him where I am first.”

  When he snickered, she shook her head and continued typing. “Stop smirking. A lot has happened since senior year, you could have turned out be a serial killer for all I know.”

  “And you texting your brother would stop me?”

  Her finger froze in mid–type as she glared at him. “Let me pretend like I’m being smart, okay?”

  After hitting send, Eve tossed the phone into her purse, unlocked the doors, and climbed out. “Let’s go.”

  Still laughing about her text to Chris, he guided her across the street to the diner. “Your pepper spray would be a much smarter way to defend yourself against a man my size.”

  She waved the bright pink container hanging from her keychain and winked. “Brand new bottle just for you.”

  Chapter 7

  Pete sat on a blanket he laid out on the roof, watching Evie survey the area. She hadn’t said a word since they’d walked into the building. A couple of times, he could have sworn he saw tears in her eyes, but couldn’t be sure. Currently, she stood by the edge of the building, a gentle smile on her face, staring out into the city’s skyline. While she seemed lost in her thoughts, he got lost in her.

  The dimly lit space cast a soft glow on her skin and the way the city lights reflected in her eyes made him hunger for a closer look. All of which made it hard for him to give her the space she obviously needed.

  What the hell was he even doing up here with her?

  The woman screamed complicated—the last thing he wanted. Yet he couldn’t walk away. He went through a mental check list of all the reasons he should run. For starters, she was the worst sober driver he’d ever been in a car with. Most of the ride, he spent gripping the sides of the seat praying he’d make it off the highway alive. Compile it with all the mixed messages she sent. One minute making out with him at her apartment, and the next locking him in the car to lay out ridiculous rules. Oh and of course, she sprayed him with pepper and made it clear she was prepared to do it again.

  If not for the way her thighs pressed together and cheeks flushed every time he looked her way, he would have thought she wanted nothing to do with him.

  As he made his list of reasons to run, a breeze brushed through Evie’s hair, whipping the strands away from her face. She shuttered her lids and took a long deep breath. His gaze lingered on the way the gust pressed her sweater against her chest and the bottom of her skirt ruffled, showing off soft skin underneath.

  For some reason, fate kept bringing them together. The last time, unbeknownst to her, she saved his life and did it again, more times than he could count. Now eight years later, they sat at the very same spot, definitely not a coincidence. He shook his head at how crazy he sounded. Yes, Evie was a mess and the fact it seemed to make him want her more, meant he was an even bigger mess. Regardless, he needed to stick this one out, see what the fates had in store. Maybe this time around, he’d be the one doing the saving.

  She looked over as if reading his thoughts and grinned. Pete sucked in a breath and found himself staring at the little dimples, which formed in her cheeks whenever she smiled. He wanted to press his lips against them before moving on to her mouth.

  Instead, he grabbed the paper bag of food and focused his energy on dinner. If he didn’t get himself together, he’d end up pepper sprayed for the second time this week.

  “Everything’s the same, even down to the messed up lighting,” she said when she finally walked over.

  He gazed at the toned legs directly in front of him for a second, before he shrugged and unwrapped his burger. “Some things don’t change, do they?”

  Instead of sitting as far away as possible, she sat right beside him. An obvious rule violation, but one he pretended not to notice. He sunk his teeth into the greasy meal.

  When Pete turned his attention to her, she was staring at him.

  “I remember you.”

  He stopped mid–chew, waiting for her to finish.

  “I even had a crush on you back then.”

  Pete’s throat tightened as shame crawled up his spine. He swallowed the food and took a sip of his soft drink. None of this surprised him. Teenage Eve had been easy to read, the way she blushed and stared at him when he’d walk by. But he ignored her. Decided she wasn’t worth his time. He had been such an asshole.

  “You stood up for me at school. Why’d you do it? I mean, you’d never even said hi to me before.”

  “You didn’t deserve to be treated that way.” He left out the part about the night before the bullying incident. The handful of pills he didn’t swallow because of her. How he snuck out and sat on the staircase, listening to her and her father play the same song over and over until it was etched in his soul. Those things he had never discussed with anyone.

  “Thank you. It meant more than you’ll ever know.” The sincerity in her voice shamed him more.

  Unable to speak, he nudged the fries in her direction and took another bite of his burger.

  She picked one up and popped it into her mouth. “I remember Mrs. Russo, too.”

  An ache tugged his chest at the mention of his mother.

  “She used to walk down the street, her arms loaded with groceries and a big, beautiful smile on her face. You’d never have known how hard things were for her except for the fact she was totally bald.”

  He kept his focus on Evie, hungry for her to continue. Ma had touched so many lives. Long after the cancer took her, people approached him with their stories. Each time, he stayed glued to their every word. If only for a moment, she lived again through their memories.

  “I remember thinking how cool your mom was for accepting her condition and not being ashamed. She once told me, ‘No one will respect you if you don’t respect yourself.’ At the time, I didn’t understand why she said it or what it meant.”

  “Sounds like something Ma would say.”

  Evie stretched out her legs and leaned back on her elbows.

  Talking about his mother reminded him of something else. “She liked you a lot. Even had a nickname for you.”

  Her eyes brightened. “Really? What?”

  No longer hungry, he put his food to the side and stretched out on the blanket, resting the back of his head in his arms, staring up at the night sky. “Rossa. It means red–head.” Pete grinned. “Always said Rossa was different than the other girls. Said you always helped her with her groceries and talked to her.”

  “Thanks for saying that,” she whispered.

  “It’s the truth.” He shrugged. “She also asked why I didn’t spend time with a nice girl like you instead of the ones I dated.” He left out the part of how she once told him she hoped he’d marry a woman like Rossa.

  Pete watched the flashing lights of a plane as it passed overhead, it was time to tell her why he brought her up here. “Ma used to keep our windows open at night and listen to your dad play his guitar.”

  Evie lay on her side with her head propped up on her hand and stared at him. “Really?”

  “Yup. She’d make me sit on the couch with her and hold her hand.” He grinned. “It’s one of my favorite memories of her. By then, we both knew she was dying.”

  Lost in thought, he found himself on the floral sofa holding Ma’s frail hand in his larger one. Evie squeezed his elbow and encouraged him to continue.

  “The day she died, I ended up here, listening to your dad play. He didn’t ask questions, just smiled at me and kept strumming the strings.

  “After that, every night I’d open the
window, pop a couple Hydros, and sit on the sofa listening to him while I remembered her. Until one day, the music stopped.”

  She sniffled. “We moved.”

  He nodded. “I had a buddy who served with me in Afghanistan. Loved the Eagles. Played their music all the time. One night this song, Hole in the World, came on and I recognized it. Now it’s always on my playlist. When I’m not in a good place, I put it on, close my eyes, and I’m back on the sofa holding her hand.”

  He fiddled with his cell until he found the saved list. Soon the quiet space filled with the soothing sounds of an acoustic guitar.

  “Pete...”

  His eyes burned at the sadness he heard in the whispered word. He blinked away the heat and kept his gaze focused on the dark sky. “It’s okay. I thought you should know that you and your dad gave me a gift I’ll never be able to repay. It’s why I wanted you to come up here.”

  “Thank you for telling me.”

  He didn’t respond, but when Evie began to sing along to the music, a shudder ran through him. Like the teenager from almost a decade ago, he prayed she wouldn’t stop. Staring into the night, he found himself hanging on her every note until the melody ended.

  “What would have happened if you had listened to your mom and we’d gotten together?”

  The heat of shame warmed his face. He fiddled with the phone and shrugged. “Nothing good. I’d have dropped you for some other girl the second I got bored and not thought twice about it.”

  “And now?”

  He rolled to his side, propping his head on his hand, so they were eye to eye. “Do what I’m doing now. Take you out on cheap dates where you end up buying me dinner and try to get you to feel sorry for me.”

  She grinned. “Cheap bastard.”

  Glad the subject was over, he smiled. “Proud of it.”

  The wind blew her hair against her mouth. He raised his hand to brush it away, but paused, searching her face for permission.

  When she didn’t move away, he reached out and tucked it behind her ear, letting his hand linger along her neck. “Don’t run, Evie. Give this a chance.”

  Fear flashed across her eyes.

  “We’ll go at your pace. Let me prove to you I’m different.”

  “Why me?”

  “I don’t know. It just feels right and I don’t want to waste another eight years wondering what if.”

  When she leaned forward, he stayed still, letting her decide what she wanted. Her lips brushed against his, warming every cell of his being. Hesitant and quick, it left him hungry. She inched back, a hair of space between them, and stared deep into his soul. As much as Pete wanted to pull her in and hold her close, he didn’t. Instead, he continued to run his fingers up and down the side of her neck.

  “Pete.”

  He closed his eyes, appreciating the feel of her breath on his lips. “Yeah?”

  “We need to discuss a rule change.”

  Her lips brushed against his with each word spoken, making it hard to stay focused.

  Pete gulped down his hunger and choked out his response. “What kind of change?”

  “You can kiss—”

  Before she finished the sentence, his mouth found hers. It was a long, insatiable connection that begged her to let him in. Evie wrapped her hand around his neck, pulling him down with her.

  As their tongues danced, Pete kept one hand on the ground supporting his weight while the other continued to caress her face.

  This time, he wouldn’t push. Just take what she gave for as long as she’d give it. Evie had her demons to fight and maybe if she learned to trust him, she’d let him fight them with her.

  About Kishan Paul

  From daring escapes by tough women to chivalrous men swooping in to save the day, the creativity switch to Kishan Paul’s brain is always in the “on” position. If daydreaming stories were a college course, Kish would have graduated with honors.

  Mother of two beautiful children, she has been married to her best friend for over seventeen years. With the help of supportive family and friends, she balances her family, a thriving counseling practice and writing without sinking into insanity.

  Her novels, Blind Love and The Second Wife, are both available through most major e-book sites.

  She can be found at:

  Website

  Facebook

  Twitter

  Pinterest

  Sign up for her newsletter

  For excerpts from Kishan Paul’s contemporary romance, Blind Love, and from her suspense, The Second Wife, read on.

  She doesn’t need a hero. But a sexy Marine...that’ll work.

  Though Lauren Baxter’s world is a blurry mess of colors, she has no tolerance for pity. With the help of her guide dog, Jack Sparrow, she’s built a good life for herself. She has everything she wants: her PhD, a thriving counseling practice and her independence.

  When she meets her new neighbor, the man’s warm Texas accent and clean male scent weaken her knees. Her attraction to the former Marine is mutual and, unfortunately, a complication she doesn’t need.

  Gabriel Briggs carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. He has his reasons for indulging only in short-term flings, but the feisty, green-eyed Lauren makes him want to forget every one.

  In a rare moment of fragility, Lauren winds up in Gabe’s arms. One night together can’t break their self-imposed rules, right? But when a woman from Gabe’s past is murdered, the reasons he should have stayed away become painfully clear, threatening innocent lives he may

  not be able to save—especially Lauren’s.

  Warning: Contains a blind therapist who doesn’t consider herself impaired; a meddling, erotic-novel-writing best friend; a hot ex-Marine with a shady past; and a loyal guide dog that howls “I love you” and is probably the sanest one of the bunch.

  Blind Love

  Chapter One

  Jack

  Something hard slammed against the other side of Lauren’s office wall during her phone session. She tried to keep her voice calm and soothing as she spoke into the receiver of her speakerphone. “So you feel like your husband isn’t as attentive to your needs as he used to be?” “Yes,” the woman whimpered. “I think he’s having an affair.” In a matter of seconds, the woman’s sniffles turned into a full-fledged sob. “Elise…” Before Lauren could finish her sentence, the pounding started again and continued with such force the framed diploma above the sofa crashed to the floor. Stunned, she leapt out of her seat and placed her hand on the wall, feeling it vibrate from the assault.

  What the hell?

  The hammering and thumping sounds next door had started weeks ago, but they hadn’t ever been as loud as they were currently. Switching the speaker off, she cradled the cordless phone next to her ear and left the office. Lauren scrambled downstairs, shutting herself into the kitchen closet—the spot farthest from the noise. “Elise, you mentioned earlier this is the busiest time…” As the hammering became louder and more incessant, Lauren punched the pantry door and tried to keep her voice tranquil and comforting. “…of the year for him at work.” The rest of the counseling session with Elise progressed much the same. Lauren prayed the anxious woman on the phone wouldn’t realize how close her therapist was to exploding. By the time the woman hung up, Lauren wanted to take the damn hammer and bang it against Mr. Fix-it’s head.

  But first, she needed to get out of her pajamas.

  One of the perks of doing phone-counseling sessions out of her home: callers had no idea if their therapist wore fuzzy pajamas or a business suit. Stomping upstairs to her bedroom, she unzipped her oversized flannel onesie, created especially for women not interested in finding a man, and tossed it on the bed. Goose bumps pebbled her skin the second she peeled off the furry layer.

  She pulled open the drawers of the dresser behind her and reached for a shirt and a pair of jeans. In fifteen minutes, her next client would call. Plenty of time to tell the dumb neighbor, who had killed her wardrobe plans for the da
y and was ruining her career, what he could do with his stupid tool.

  In the bathroom, she grabbed the toothpaste and squirted some into her mouth. After swishing the wintergreen-flavored gel around her teeth for a few seconds, she grabbed her toothbrush. Lauren’s hand moved rhythmically with the thumping of the hammer. Another perk of working on the phone all day: no one smelled your breath. After her teeth had been cleaned and probably scrubbed free of all enamel, she began the tedious process of detangling her brown shoulder-length hair.

  She would have liked to check out her appearance in the mirror but that was impossible. One of the drawbacks of being blind.

  Well, mostly blind.

  Lauren’s emerald-green eyes worked; everything was just blurred. She saw colors, lights, even silhouettes of people—nothing more. Diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa at the age of six, she had lost ninety percent of her vision by her fifteenth birthday. The timing sucked, considering her friends were learning how to drive while she learned how to walk around the house without bumping into things.

  In typical teenage manner, she pitched a fit and hated life. Until she got tired of feeling sorry for herself. Fourteen years later, Lauren had a Ph.D. and a thriving private practice doing phone counseling with people across the country. All of which she couldn’t have accomplished without the help of her very controlling parents and her eccentric best friend, Sunshine Daye.

  Speaking of Sunny, if she had actually come into work today, she could have handled the noise pollution. Lauren ran her fingers through her hair to make sure she caught all the knots before leaving the bathroom. Sunny’s parents were high on pot when they named her. In the middle of his drug-induced festivities honoring her birth, her father decided Sunshine was the perfect accompaniment to Daye. As soon as she could tie her shoelaces, Sunny started showing up next door at Lauren’s house. Now, decades later, nothing had changed. More than her best friend, she worked as Lauren’s personal assistant, and was a successful erotica author—a funny career choice for a woman whom Lauren would always envision as the shy teenage girl with braces and a blonde ponytail.