by Sienna Ciles
Since Last Time
A Bad Boy Romance
By
Sienna Ciles
www.SiennaCiles.com
Table of Contents
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Copyright
Book Description
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Hard for Her
Lost and Found
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Copyright
First Edition, April 2018
Copyright © 2018 by Sienna ciles
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and situations are the product of the author's imagination.
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent from the author.
License
This book is available exclusively on Amazon.com. If you found this book for free or from a site other than an Amazon.com country specific website it means the author was not compensated for this book and you have likely obtained this book through an unapproved distribution channel.
Book Description
It was a moment I’ve never forgotten.
A forbidden kiss.
A first and last kiss on my 18th birthday.
He was my brother’s best friend, and should have been off limits.
And that one kiss cost him everything.
Banished from my family, hated by my brother.
Today he’s coming back from exile to mourn my father.
Dalton has been on my mind non-stop,
I’ve imagined him undressing me, tempting me, teasing me.
It’s the last thing I should be thinking about, but I can’t help it.
I’ve wished for the day to see him again, under any circumstances.
It’s my turn to make things different.
I’m not the same girl, and I hear he’s not the same guy.
Now he’s a bad boy.
He’s done time and bounced back.
He’s successful, tattooed and hot as hell.
…and we have a lot of catching up to do since last time.
Since Last Time is a full-length standalone novel, With plenty of bad boy and second chance romance. Bonus content included after the story, including information on how you can get Sienna’s next book free. Grab your copy today.
Chapter One
Taylor
I woke up as normal at precisely 6:01 in the morning. It’s not because I thought I was being a bit different with the extra minute, but the alarm was busted, and I liked the old-time rectangular shape with the clickety-clack numbers. As I slowly opened my eyes, I tried my best to lessen the impact the remnants of my dreams from the night before had on me. The soft kiss on my lips was the way it ended, like it always ended, with a pair of piercing blue eyes staring into my soul and my heart breaking.
I could never tell if those beautiful eyes were mocking or enjoying the kiss and me. But I also knew it was more than a dream. It was an old memory, nine years in the making. I felt the same way when it happened on my eighteenth birthday as I did when I dreamed it repeatedly through the years. When Dalton pulled me into him and gave me my first kiss, that kiss that melted and burned me to this day. There was only ever that one first kiss. I groaned and reached down and pulled the wet underwear away from my skin.
I shook my head, dispersing the rest of the dream and stretched one arm, then the other, before I stood up and cracked my back. Love my morning rituals. For a moment, I thought I needed to tell Pops about the bar’s schedule today, then I remembered. Like a bolt of lightning, the jolting reality.
I have a busy day for myself, so a pity party just won’t do. I picked my Pokémon t-shirt up from where I threw it on the carpet. I preferred to sleep “au natural” or in my underwear, but you never knew who would be up and about. Namely my brother, who would scream and run back into his room and tell me to put on some damn clothes. Shimmying the long yellow t-shirt on, I headed out of my room and into the hall bathroom to start my day.
“Eric,” I called out as I half closed the door behind me.
I did my morning brushing for exactly two minutes, my shower for ten and a half, and headed back into my room, pulling my fractious hair into my signature ponytail, where it would, hopefully, keep my long curly blond hair in place. Wrapping a towel around myself, I headed back to my room.
“Eric!” I yelled as I closed the door. I threw my sweatpants and Lana Del Rey T-shirt on and headed downstairs to get my coffee. Halfway down, I stopped.
“Eric, you better get your ass up!”
Not hearing a response, I bounded back up the stairs and down the hall to my brother’s room. Pushing the door open, I saw the bed was still made, covers on, just like they were yesterday morning when I made the bed. And the morning before that.
“Damn it.”
As I started back downstairs, I noticed the door at the end of the hall was still open, so I pushed it farther open. Seeing my mom’s quilt on the bed, God rest her soul, gave me some peace to think they were together again. I steeled myself, took a deep breath, and quietly closed it before I headed downstairs to get my wake-up juice.
As I passed through the living room, I caught sight of the tobacco pipe on the end table next to Pop’s favorite Lazy Boy. I don’t know why I picked it up, it was as if sensing him nearby, almost like he was touching my shoulder. I raised it to my nose and inhaled the apples and cinnamon aroma Pops was so fond of, even though I’d chided him for years to stop. I cradled it in my hand for a moment or two longer, cherishing the memory before I placed it back on the end table.
Just to make sure, I opened the kitchen door to look over at the carport. My brother’s motorcycle was gone from its post by Pop’s… my… pickup truck. Eric’s sad little Chevy sat there rusting in the early morning light on the far side of the area. Pops, Eric, and my bestie Kris had worked on it together over the years and now it just sat there as it had since Pops got sick. The motorcycle being gone could only mean he hadn’t come home from the bar last night.
“Not again.”
&nb
sp; The day felt like it was trying to cheer me up with the perfect scent of maple and hay, the breeze helping me to cope with what was going to be the second saddest day in my life. I closed the door and headed over to the Keurig and got my coffee going. When it stopped grunting and groaning at me, I mixed exactly one teaspoon of sugar with a dollop of whole milk and headed into the cellar.
As I went down the stairs, it never ceased to amaze me at the renovations my father did to the downstairs rec room, renovating it into a brain center for my entire media operation. He spared no expense on communications and computers, so I wouldn’t have to go into Asheville and rent a start-up pad with whatever savings I had left over after college. Trying to grow my social media presence and the company I envisioned building would have to be delayed until I had the money. Pops was having none of it and worked behind my back to get it done.
Though Pop’s didn’t really understand the whole social media aspect of marketing, he did appreciate it when more of the college kids began coming to The Boar and Brew. And it didn’t cost him anything but having his favorite, and only, daughter stay at the house.
“Pops, you got to reach the market,” I told him so often it became a mantra.
I opened the curtains, revealing the cool vibe of French doors that opened the view off the mountain to downtown Asheville in the distance. Not only was it the most beautiful view I think I have ever seen – which Pops showed me when he took me blindfolded downstairs to show off my college graduation present – it was now my view.
No one around for miles and miles. The house was built by my great-great-grandpa. He purchased most of the mountainside for a home and for the view. I enjoyed the seclusion, and it helped me concentrate. No noisy traffic congestion, that’s for sure. Nearest neighbors were at the bottom of the drive three miles away.
With Pops’ passing, I imagined the house would go to Eric and me. My work area and Eric’s flophouse, when he ever came home.
With our dad gone just a few days before, Eric had taken to being at the bar every night, going over the books and trying to make heads or tails of our father’s nonchalant way of handling accounting and the ownership of the fifty-year-old bar. Pops got it right most of the time and over the last year, Eric had taken over the burden of running the front of the bar full time, but the books still scared the hell out of him.
I let the curtain drop and turned back to my domain. The one place where I ruled the world, had my office, and could be me. I had control here, and I liked that. Outside of this room, life was so unpredictable. Here, I was the queen and master of my universe. Nothing could blindside me. Never again.
Everything down here had Pops’ fingerprint on it, from the Felix clock to the burgundy carpet to the furniture. He had spent so much time picking out what he thought I would like, and he just nailed it. It was my sacred space, and thinking of the time he put into it brought tears to my eyes.
I looked at the Felix clock on the wall as it chimed seven.
“Better ring sleepyhead,” I said.
I dialed Eric’s number just to have it roll over to voicemail. So, I left him a very Tayloresque note.
“Service is at noon, graveside is at one, and reception is at three. Make sure you get home in time to at least change your shirt and hopefully, for everyone’s sake, take a shower.” I signed off with my “Tata for now” message and settled into my ergonomic chair.
“Time to make the doughnuts, Lagertha,” I said as I started up my social media empire with a click of the mouse, waking her up. Yes, I called my computer a “her” and I named her Lagertha after one of the most kick-ass historical figures I liked.
It jumped into action and landed me on the page I worked on last night before I headed to bed and dreamed of kissing the man who blew a hole in our family.
Patrick Price, King of the Downtown Scene, reception and celebration of his life at 3 p.m. at The Boar and Brew. His daughter and son, Taylor and Eric, would love if you could join us…
I developed the social media blast I was putting out to give Pops the Irish send off he said he wanted. I was so engrossed, I didn’t hear the bike shredding up my driveway or the knock on the door upstairs. I’d have liked to say it was from being so involved in my work, but that’s a lie. I just couldn’t get a pair of piercing blue eyes out of my mind or stop the wetness between my legs whenever I thought of Dalton and the kiss that seared my lips.
Chapter Two
Dalton
I sat out on the balcony of the five-star hotel, best in Asheville, North Carolina. Being my casual self, I had nothing on but my boxers and looked over the early summer sun rising in the east. Stretching my long legs, I stuck a foot through the railings as I watched, for the first time in almost a decade, dawn chasing away the night. I saw many a setting sun in Los Angeles, but sunrises were special here. I ran my hands through my raven-black hair and leaned back.
A dark-haired beauty draped in a robe came to the French doors and lounged in the entryway.
“Dalton, why don’t you come back to bed.”
She walked out on the balcony and ran her fingers on my chest, toned from years in the gym and the physical work it took to build my businesses. Renovating and pulling out walls can do wonders for how you look. Construction workers really have it made in that department.
“We have some time before I need to leave,” she said.
I stood up, my six-foot-one physique towering over the petite and beautiful woman. “That is so very tempting, Kimmie, but I do have a funeral to attend.”
“Baby,” she pouted.
I took her hands in mine and kissed her fingers.
She frowned. “It’s Katie.”
I looked down at her and sheepishly smiled. “I’m so sorry, dear. Last night just put everything out of mind.”
Katie smiled in her pouty way. “I don’t mind. Maybe I can come by later.”
“I’ll call you if I have time.” I let her hands drop and leaned in to kissed her. “You are definitely someone I won’t forget.”
She smiled and headed back to the room. A few minutes later, she had taken off, and I forgot all about her. My mind was replaying a night over nine years ago. A night that both haunted and inspired me.
This was going to be so rough. Seeing Eric was just going to be all sorts of wrong. But I’d made a promise to Pops, my mentor, so I would do it. I sure as hell wasn’t going to like it, but I would do it. I had the funeral, graveyard, reception, and of course, the reading of the will, which I dreaded, because all hell was going to break loose. That was only two days away.
I looked over the small town below me like a king viewing his kingdom. At one time, it was. The top bartender in town, all the women I could screw, and I felt I was someone. Little did I know then, I was nothing. Like a phoenix, thanks to Pops, I was able to rise from the ashes of the life I had nuked. The promise I had made to Pops was not to come back until he called for me. And he’d finally called. Well, Peggy did. Pops was too sick to do it on his own. I never actually got to tell him goodbye.
Grief rose in me, and tears threatened. I swallowed them back down. Only Pops and I knew the real reason I was exiled from my domain. And those sea-green eyes of the boss’ daughter were to blame.
I walked back into the room, ordered breakfast from room service, and headed to the shower, stripping off my boxers. I glanced at the mirror. Early thirties, but I didn’t look it. Never would have thought I had done time. Small scar on my abdomen from someone who thought I had looked at him funny was my only reminder. Hitting the gym daily, more if I had a business issue I wanted to chew on and walls to break down. It didn’t hurt that I looked every bit the successful businessman I worked hard at being.
After the shower, I grabbed the towel and quickly dried off. The face looking back at me as I straight-razored my night’s worth of stubble showed the experience that wasn’t there years ago when I last graced the mountains of Asheville. That experience had helped me to amass a fortune in the nightclub ind
ustry on the West Coast and around the world. My bars were “the” scene in LA. Everyone who was anyone came to my places. Los Angeles, Seattle, New York, Miami, Chicago. Overseas, we had Barcelona, Berlin, and Singapore. Now Asheville. This would be the smallest one, but it was the one closest to my heart.
Wonder what Eric would think?
I laughed. Eric would think I was a sellout. Maybe today would be calm and collected. A couple of nods in each other’s direction as a remembrance of who we meant to each other at one time. Brothers-in-arms.
I put the razor down and leaned over the sink.
The last words Eric had spoken to me after he shattered his hand on my jaw was that he never wanted to see my face again. I frowned. The sad thing was… Courtney didn’t mean a thing. She was just someone to use to get Taylor’s face out of my mind after our one and only kiss. A kiss that shook me to my soul.
I thought about Taylor, wondered how she looked. I’m not really one for the Internet and have people do my profiles and social media for me. I could have looked, but in my mind, she would always be my eighteen-year-old Taylor. Braces just off, contacts instead of glasses, and the kiss I had given her in the kitchen shortly after she had licked the cake frosting off the knife, while clearing up after her party. It gave the kiss a sweetness I had never known before. It was an impulse that shook me to my toes and rocked my world. She was so soft, innocent, and sweet.
Feeling myself starting to harden at the memory, I was glad for the knock from room service. Wrapped in a towel, I answered the door and tipped the nice lady who had brought me breakfast, smiling as I barely noticed the appreciative look from her.
A half hour later, the hotel phone rang. I picked it up.
“Your limo, Mr. Dobbins.”
“Thank you.”
I straightened out my shirt, adjusted the cufflinks, and headed off to pay my respects to the man who was more than a father figure; he was my friend. A friendship that flourished in secret. Because keeping in contact with the one man who broke both your son’s and daughter’s heart wasn’t looked very highly upon in the small town of Asheville. And the town had a long memory.
