Love Discovered in New York (The Washington Triplets)

by Danielle Allen

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue: One Month Later

  Playlist

  The Washington Triplets

  Love Grows in Alaska

  Love Found in California

  Acknowledgements

  LOVE DISCOVERED IN NEW YORK

  Copyright © 2014 by Danielle Allen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, pirating, or by an information storage and retrieval system - except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or - without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Interior design and formatting: Perfectly Publishable (www.perfectlypublishable.com)

  Proofreading: Perfectly Publishable (www.perfectlypublishable.com)

  Cover Design: Cover Me, Darling (www.covermedarling.com)

  Photo Credit: Photography Shutterstock

  To Adrian, Andy, Ashley, Noelle, Christina, DaShauna, Lorenzo, and Joe. Because when you have supportive, hilarious, and thoughtful best friends who buy your novels as soon as they release and love them as much as you do, they deserve a dedication.

  And to Olivia Pope… Because Shonda is a genius and I’m a gladiator.

  To: Mya Washington

  From: Dad’s Work Email

  Subject: I just received your response card

  Dear Mya,

  I know you are still healing from the death of your mother. It rocked us all. And I know you disapprove of my relationship with Janet. However, I've decided to marry her. I know you and your sisters think it's too soon and probably too sudden after your mother's passing. But if you’ll just talk to me, I can explain why we’ve decided to marry at this time. I’ve sent emails to your sisters as well because I want the three of you here with me. I have no intention of choosing between my daughters and Janet. You three are a part of me and I want to welcome Janet into our family. You haven’t spoken to me since the funeral, but I'm begging you to call me, talk to me. I have so much I want to say to you. And please come back home for my wedding next month.

  As the invitation stated, it will be held at Tillman Estates on September 15th. I hope to see you in six weeks, Mya. Please. Again, I’m begging you. It would mean so much to me.

  I love you.

  Dad

  I GENTLY SCRATCHED MY FOREHEAD with my freshly manicured fingernails as I re-read the email from my dad. He chose her, I thought as I shook my head in disbelief. He had a choice between his children—his flesh and blood—and Janet—his whore. And he chose her. He’s seriously going to marry her! Who does that?

  I refused to allow myself to be hurt by his actions. I refused to allow myself to be hurt by my father or any other man. Tapping into my anger, I could almost feel the cement wall I was building up around myself.

  “Because if you can’t trust your dad to not be a screw up, you can’t trust any man to not be a screw up,” I muttered to myself.

  Reclining back against the couch, I slammed my laptop closed as I moved it from my lap to the couch cushion beside me. My cell phone started ringing at the same time.

  Snatching my phone from the coffee table, I snapped, “Hello?” I didn’t even bother masking my mood.

  “What the hell is your problem?” Kelsey retorted, her tone matching mine. I smiled.

  Kelsey Stone worked with me at Duke & Duchess, the newest hotspot in Brooklyn. Duke & Duchess had been around for the last few years, but when the cast of a superhero movie rented it out for a wrap party, it became a hotspot. We started around the same time, two years ago, before the attention, and became best friends.

  “Sometimes I think the reason so many women are cynical when it comes to men is because they have a deadbeat dad,” I theorized as I stared an angry hole in the wall. I took a deep breath and attempted to lighten my tone. “What’s up?”

  There was a distinct pause. “Do you want to talk about it? Nicks gave me the night off. We could go out. Sounds like you need it.”

  A short, dry laugh erupted out of me. “Nicks called and asked me to cover a shift. I didn’t know it was yours so I took it.”

  “Dammit!” Kelsey cursed. “I wanted to go to this bar in Midtown and pick up a sexy businessman.”

  Running my hand through my thick mass of long, dark hair, I smirked. “When is that not the plan?”

  “Hey! Sometimes I want a big, blue collar guy with rough hands.” She laughed. “But this week I’m craving businessman.”

  Laughing along with her, I shook my head. “You are crazy!”

  Ignoring my statement, she continued, “Since tonight’s a bust, let’s go out on Friday.”

  “Are you going to be able to last twenty-four hours without your businessman fix?”

  Sighing dramatically, she said, “I guess I’ll manage. But you, you need a businessman fix, too. Since you’ve been in New York, you’ve only been with one guy. And since that was over months ago, I think it’s time you graduated to getting yourself a fling. Or a sex-buddy. A friend with benefits. Something!”

  “I haven’t come across any guys that have piqued my interest!” I protested, throwing a hand in the air even though she couldn’t see it.

  “Well, since Graham left, you’ve been in a drought, my friend.”

  Ah, Graham, I thought with a small smile. Sexy, NYU graduate student, Graham was the perfect hook-up for me. He was too busy for anything more than casual, monogamous sex. And I didn’t want anything but casual, monogamous sex. It was a win-win for us both. He was always planning to move back to his home state of Texas, so there was never a fear that either of us would get too attached. We didn’t hang out; we just had sex. And when he graduated and moved back home seven months ago, we said goodbye and that was the end of it.

  “Graham was safe,” Kelsey started. “If you were able to send a goodbye text and not even feel the need to see him before he left, you weren’t really into it. I think you need a fling to get you back on the metaphorical horse. And maybe, just maybe, a fling will lead you to getting into something more and cure you of your commitment phobia.”

  “I’m not a commitment-phobe and I can’t just screw anybody, Kelsey! There’s some kind of magic that has to happen between me and a guy as soon as I meet him that lets me know that our sexual chemistry is right. If I’m going to have sex, I need it to be worthwhile. Life’s too short to waste on bad sex. ” I looked at the clock on the wall above the mantle. “Oh crap! I need to get ready to go.”

  “Don’t overthink the fling you’re so desperately in need of. Whatever happens, happens. Just go with the flow. And don’t let Nicks convince you to work on Friday. We haven’t had a Friday off together in so long. We’re going out. We need this,” Kelsey stated firmly.

  Rolling my eyes in amusement, I said, “Goodbye, Kelsey.”

  “Later, Mya.”

  Dropping my phone on the table next to my laptop, I wished I was able to go out with Kelsey. I needed to releas
e pent-up anger and stress.

  Friday, it is on, I thought as I struggled to get off of the plush couch. My thoughts guiltily floated back to Graham and the text I sent instead of meeting up with him to say goodbye.

  We weren’t serious at all and I was working the night he was flying out. I’m not a commitment-phobe, I reiterated to myself silently. Maybe Kelsey’s right. Maybe a fling could help take my mind off of things. Operation Fling Finder will be in full effect on Friday. And there’s no stressful situation that a hot man and a cold drink can’t solve.

  Standing in the middle of my minimally decorated living room, my eyes dropped back down to my laptop, reminding me of the email from my father. I briefly debated calling Marisa and Mikaela about Dad’s email. But I decided against it almost as immediately as the thought crossed my mind. Although the three of us were identical, born only minutes apart, we couldn’t be any more different.

  Marisa was the mature one. As the oldest of the three of us, she was the typical type-A, responsible, good girl. In the eyes of our parents and teachers, Marisa could do no wrong and she seemed to thrive off of her perfect image. Perfection was a hard standard to compare myself to so I didn’t even try. At the age of five, I resigned myself to the fact that I would never be as perfect as Marisa. And thinking back, even at five years old, that was such a freeing and liberating feeling.

  Mikaela was the introvert. As the middle triplet, she had always been quiet and kept to herself. But right before the three of us were supposed to go to college together, Mikaela changed. Without explanation, she decided that she didn’t want to go to school with us. Mikaela was always reserved, but something felt different with her and my gut told me there was more to her reclusiveness than she let on. I thought it would be a temporary thing, but after all these years, she remained distant.

  The day after I graduated with my bachelor’s degree, I moved to New York. Two years later, Marisa, Mikaela and I were living completely different lives. We kept in touch, but we weren’t as close as we could be. Although I loved them both dearly and we had an unbreakable bond, it was suffocating being the youngest triplet.

  Especially when everyone considers you the rebellious one, I thought with pursed lips as I headed into the bedroom. Ever since we were young, I’d never been afraid to try something and fail. I was loud, brash and outspoken. I loved things that made me happy and rejected things that didn’t. And for that, I was labeled the rebel of the three of us. As we got older, I was labeled a rebel period. They said I couldn’t be tamed and I embraced that. Why would I want to be tamed?

  Walking into my closet, I pulled out a pair of skinny jeans and a sexy, black top. I worked my body into the form fitting jeans and then turned around in front of the mirror. Standing in just jeans and a black lacy bra, I twisted in order to check out the tattoos that ran down both of my sides in small cursive lettering from my ribcage to my hips. I quickly ran my hand down the black font of the tattoo I got two years ago. And then I turned to focus on my newest tattoo.

  Imitation makes you who they are. Individuality makes you who you are. I read the words silently as I ran my forefinger down the recently healed tattoo. After a minute, I shook off the nostalgia that started to settle into my subconscious and I finished getting dressed. Twenty minutes later, I was out the door and walking ten blocks to Duke & Duchess. The heat felt magnified by the concrete of the sidewalk. The smell of grilled onions mixed with exhaust pipe pollution and wafted in the air. The sounds of people, cars, and a random dog or two filled my ears.

  I love New York, I thought as I tried to work through the anger that pulsed through my veins. Over the last two years, I made this my home. Too much bullshit, drama and unfulfilled expectations in Chicago. This is home now. Especially after everything with Mom and Dad. This is home.

  I ran my fingers through my curls and shook off my hurt and anger toward my father. I swallowed the sadness and pain of my mother’s death. And I pushed down the pit in my stomach from the distance I felt growing each day with my sisters. Taking a deep breath, I rolled my shoulders twice before shaking it off.

  By the time I arrived to work, the anger regarding my father’s upcoming wedding was almost undetectable. Even though I was still pissed, my coworkers and customers weren’t going to be able to tell that anything was wrong. I paused outside of the opulent front door of the brick building.

  Exhaling slowly and deliberately, I opened the door to the bar and sauntered into the wide open space. I had only gotten about halfway across the room before I heard an appreciative whistle. Looking to my right as I continued to move toward the employees-only break room in the back, I saw Stephen Grayson, another bartender.

  “You know I can’t resist you in those jeans, Mya,” Stephen called, as he dropped a large crate onto the bar.

  With a short laugh, I shook my head and responded, “You’re going to have to. Now stop being creepy.”

  I opened the door to the break room and scrunched my nose up. The break room resembled a locker room and smelled like a kitchen. Holding my breath as long as I could, I quickly put my handbag into my locker. Tucking my keys and phone into my pockets, I was out of the room in a minute.

  Walking to the bar, I watched the muscles in Stephen’s arm flex as he placed different bottles of liquor on the expansive shelf. Between his bulky muscles and killer smile, Stephen was hot. And his personality wasn’t bad either. He was kind of funny and kind of charming at times. And when we made out a year and a half ago, it wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t great. It was a drunken night and I quickly decided it was in poor judgment and we should just be friends. But even though he was a self-proclaimed bachelor-for-life, it always felt like he was still interested in being more with me.

  I stopped at the opening to get behind the bar and eyed him suspiciously. “Did you already do inventory?”

  Putting the last bottle on the top shelf, he turned around to face me. “Nicks did it before he had to run out. So it’s just me and you here,” he answered with a smile.

  I gave him a perplexed look in return. “Okay,” I said slowly, stretching the word out.

  “So we could head to the back and mess around a little,” Stephen offered, as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  “You wish,” I sneered as I pushed past him to get behind the bar.

  “You’re right. I do,” he admitted, the amusement apparent in his voice. “And I know you do, too.”

  I whipped around quickly so I could look him in his eyes as I answered, “Hell no.”

  Stephen laughed heartily and then started cleaning glasses. “Girls don’t usually tell me no. You know you are the only one who has ever said no to me. But I get it…you’re anti-relationship and if you ever let me put it on you, you would fall in love.”

  “I’m not interested. At all.”

  “Again, if you weren’t anti-relationship—”

  “Let me clarify,” I interrupted. “I’m not interested in you at all. At all, Stephen. The world could end and hell could freeze over and I would still be like ‘nah, I’m good.’”

  He mumbled something, but I ignored his comment and started putting the clean glasses away. I’m not even going to feed into this conversation because Stephen and I are not happening. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever, I thought with an exaggerated eye roll.

  We worked steadily making small talk about nothing in particular, when Nicks burst through the door.

  “Good news!” Nicks announced as he marched over to the bar. With his shaggy brown hair and laid back personal style, Nicks looked a lot more disorganized and disheveled than he actually was. “I hired two new bartenders and two new waitresses. They start Saturday.”

  “Nice!” I exclaimed. Kelsey and I hardly ever got the same weekends off because Nicks didn’t have enough qualified bartenders to handle the demand of the growing popularity of Duke & Duchess. “Now it looks like Kelsey and I can get into trouble more often.”

  Nicks laughed as he headed to his office. Feeling St
ephen’s eyes on me, I glanced over at him.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You and Kelsey are, without doubt, trouble.”

  The bar filled slowly and then suddenly, the entire place was packed. Thursday nights were generally just as packed as weekend nights. The louder the crowd, the louder the music and I thrived off of the energy.

  “Hey, handsome! What can I get for you?” I flirted with Jim, the older man who owned the deli across the street. Every day after work, he’d come in and get a beer before walking home somewhere in the neighborhood. After serving Jim, I moved my attention to the man standing beside him.

  I paused for a second as I was caught off guard by his eyes. More brown than hazel in color and fiercely piercing, they were expressive and beautiful. I could feel their intensity and it was alluring. His eyes seemed to darken in the sexiest way as we stared at one another.

  Very sexy…much like the rest of him, I thought as I quickly and discreetly checked him out. I took in his full lips, perfect teeth, broad shoulders, and flawless skin. Yeah, he is definitely what I’m in the mood for tonight, I noted as my body reacted to the instant attraction. I caught the way his eyes dipped and lingered on my mouth before meeting my eyes again and I knew the attraction was mutual.

  Licking my lips, I greeted him. “Hi, what can I get for you?”

  “Oh…no ‘hey handsome’ for me?” he asked, smirking. “Should I be offended?”

  Although his question took me by surprise, it was the sound of his voice that really gave me pause. His voice was rich and textured like music and with each word, I felt like it was strumming my entire body.

  Feeling a smile playing at my lips, I cocked my head to the side. “Are you feeling slighted?”

  “Yes,” he said, leaning on the bar. “So what are you going to do to make it better?”

  The question alone awakened desire inside of me. Visual images of what I could do to make us both feel better temporarily overtook my brain. I ran my bottom lip between my teeth, pushing the vivid picture of this sexy man naked out of my head. “Are you flirting with me?” I questioned in mock indignation.