by Turner, Xyla
Duncan
Across the Aisle
Xyla Turner
AZINA MEDIA PUBLICATIONS
Contents
Also by Xyla Turner
Duncan!
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
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Duncan’s Survey
Book Questions
SWAG: Across the Aisle
James: Chapter 1
By Chance, No Choice: Ch. 1
Additional LG Chapters
About the Author
Also by Xyla Turner
XYLA’S CONTACT INFORMATION
AZINA MEDIA PUBLICATIONS
237 Flatbush Avenue, #187 Brooklyn, NY 11217
This is an original publication of AZINA MEDIA PUBLICATIONS.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Copyright © 2019 AZINA MEDIA PUBLICATIONS
Cover Page by Dar Albert
Edited by Kimberley T.
Proofread by Shawn Welde
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized edits.
All rights reserved.
Created with Vellum
Also by Xyla Turner
Across the Aisle Series:
Book 1: Trent
Book 2: Duncan
Legion of Guardians Motorcycle Club Series:
Just Ride: Legion of Guardians MC (1 - eBook & Audio)
Let’s Ride: Legion of Guardians MC (2)
Just Right: Legion of Guardians MC (3)
Just Dream: Legion of Guardians MC (4)
Dream Ride: Legion of Guardians MC (5)
Lady Guardians Serial
Justice: National Chapter - Book 1
Cut: National Chapter - Book 2
Double XX Series:
The Chase: Part I & II
Line of Duty Series:
10:80: Line of Duty Series
10-99: Line of Duty Series
10-24: Line of Duty Series
Stetson Series:
By Chance, No Choice: Stetson Series
Meet Me Halfway: Stetson Series
Love At All Costs: Stetson Series
Far Rockaway University Series:
Love Under Attack: FRU Series
The F Student
Bookstore Chronicles Series:
No Returns: Part I & II
Bookstore Chronicles III
Non-Series Book:
BOMBSHELL
Across the Tracks
Power of the Pen
Extraction
Cole [eBook & Audio]
Take A Knee
Warren
Always Right
Duncan!
Duncan was written by USA Today Bestselling & Multi-Award-Winning Author Xyla Turner
Portia:
The man started his very first conversation with me, by asking me for my hand in marriage.
That's a negative.
Forget that he's a Republican, rude and intrusive. He is also different from any man that I have ever met.
Yet, there is a side to him that forces me to pay attention. Not the constant counting, his stupid surveys and defense of building walls.
That is annoying, but...there's something about this man.
He’s a different kind of perfect!
I'm definitely not marrying him, though.
Duncan:
The woman is beautiful, smart, and accomplished, but she will not marry me.
I had one chance with her, but due to circumstances outside of my control, she no longer will engage with me on an intimate level.
She is the only one that I can sleep through the night with...the only one that feels right for someone like me.
No one else will do.
--
Note: This book is a bit different from a normal Xyla Turner book. It is IR, BWWM, and HEA, but Duncan is his own sort of Hero. I hope you give him a chance. Duncan’s a different kind of perfect!
You can see more like this book with the following titles:
Trent | Across the Tracks | Take A Knee | Always Right | Cole | 10-80: Line of Duty | 10-99: Line of Duty | Extraction | Power of the Pen | By Chance, No Choice | Undertones
Chapter One
Portia
“Bernie, what are you and Trent fussing about now?” I called as I walked into the kitchen with my godson, Junior, on my hip.
The boy was heavier than a lump and, no doubt, would be big like his father. Trent was tall and fit for a guy in his fifties, and no one could ever tell he was that old. This man loved fatherhood, and God, did he love his wife. Their relationship gave me hope at times.
I was approaching forty like a runaway train with no brakes. And as instrumental as I’d been in helping others catch and keep a man, I was still man-less. I got some when I wanted, but nothing serious.
At times, I thought it was for the best. Maybe I was even set in my ways. Fine. I was set in my ways. I had little patience for spineless men. This made assholes like Trent appealing. But once I realized he was head over heels for my bestie, he was a hell no. Now, they’re happily married, and I’m glad it wasn’t me. That man is a handful, and so is his heavy ass son.
“Godmommy.” The boy pulled at my earring to get my attention. “Bumblebee.”
“Booooyyyyy,” I sang. “You want to live to see another day? Let my jewelry alone, now.”
Oh, yeah. I did not have access to a lot of kids, especially little ones.
He quickly let my earring go but repeated, “Bumblebee.”
“Yes, yes.” I nodded. “I didn’t forget about me and you going to see Bumblebee when it comes out.”
The little pint started to clap right over my head, which was my cue to put the monster down. He took the opportunity to run around the kitchen yelling, “I’m going to see Bumblebee.”
“Thanks, girl, for taking him,” Bernie called back over her shoulder as she continued to chop the onions that stung my nose hairs and caused my eyes to water.
We were in her D.C. home, I mean mansion, but their home, nonetheless. There was nothing standard about the kitchen, as my whole studio apartment in Hyattsville, Maryland, could fit inside it. It had dark hardwood floors and grey marble on every surface, including the island that sported a grill, sink, and plenty of shelf space. There were three ovens, two refrigerators, and two freezers built into the wall. The cabinets were the perfect contrast to the grey, cool counters, with expensive black with chrome finishing for the knobs.
I absolutely loved their house and often asked Trent if he could adopt me or pay me full-time, so I didn’t have to watch overgrown people all day. I could babysit Junior. He always answered, “You don’t even know anything about kids. You threaten my son, like he’s a grown man every time he pulls
on that hair you bought and slapped on your head.”
This is when he and I would start going back and forth about how my hair is mine because I bought it. The man was all about learning everything black, especially black women. He knew exactly what type of grease Bernie used, the texture of her hair, and why some shampoos were good, and some were not. He took black hair matters to another fucking level. So much so, I think they opened up a natural hair store and salon in the area, just so he could shut the hell up.
The event I was attending was sort of a first of many. Trent had been a Republican, but was now an official Democrat, and the monumental move to the other party had the state of Louisiana and Washington talking. So much so, he was re-elected and had a lot of converts.
“What are y’all fussing about now?” I walked over to Bernie and leaned against the counter as she cut the dreaded onions.
“Guns!” She hissed. “The damn man is already trying to teach Junior, who is two by the way, how to use guns.”
“Oh boy.” I shook my head because I saw that coming.
Trent was a proud, card-carrying member of the National Rifle Association (NRA). Hell, as reckless as his mouth is, I’m sure he’s shot a person, or a few. So, this was no surprise.
“Oh boy, is right.” She shook her head, and her long curly hair went with it. “I keep trying to tell him. Junior is mixed. He doesn’t have Trent’s privilege. He sort of has it, but not entirely. He might pass the paper bag test, but my son is still black, and he will know and understand both sides.”
Hmmm.
I was usually the voice of reason in these situations, and just as I was about to chime in, I was cut off.
“The crime rate in your surrounding neighborhood is abysmal. The optimal logic would be to protect yourself and your offspring. It just makes sense.”
The deep, yet sterile and devoid of emotion, voice rang off to the side of me, causing both me and Bernie to look in the doorway.
Trent had a few friends over, and so did Bernie. Me, being one of those friends, and she had also invited some of the new wives crew. Lisa, was Rich’s, or The Dem’s, wife, and she was super cool.
The men, I didn’t really get down with because all they did was talk about politics and shit happening on the Hill, until one of the women changed the subject.
However, this guy I had never seen before. He had a red button pinned on the collar of his light blue polo shirt, revealing he was a Republican. His khaki pants were creased and the bottoms hung over a pair of brown loafers. Though the look was supposed to go for casual, it was too calculated to be just something thrown together.
His words ran through my head. Despite how perfectly tall and beautiful he seemed, he was entirely too blunt, and, I thought, also rude with a dash of insult.
“Junior is two years old,” I clapped back at him. “This shouldn’t even be a conversation.”
His head tilted to the side as if he were considering my words, then he nodded and replied, “Statistically speaking, the neighborhood will be re-gentrified in twenty years. Thus, making Trent Richardson, the second, an optimal candidate to have a gun and know how to use it.”
Was this guy serious?
I heard Bernie sigh, but she didn’t engage.
I, on the other hand, planned to very much go all the way in on his ass.
“What in the hell are you talking about?” I yelled back at him as I pushed off the counter and moved toward him. “Junior, is a kid. I’m not here to tell people how to raise their children, and neither should you.”
My finger stabbed toward him.
“So before you start “statistically speaking,” mind your business and speak when spoken to. Nobody was talking to you.”
“Portia,” Bernie called, but I was on a roll.
“And statistically speaking, the likelihood of you getting cussed out just grew, so I would—”
A throat cleared, cutting me off. “Portia, how the hell did I know you were in here telling off my guest?” Trent interrupted my flow.
He moved toward his wife, kissed her on the forehead, and pulled her into his body. Smelly onions and all.
“You are upset,” the rude guy said. “I have made you upset.”
He stated it. Not a question, but a fact.
“Duncan, meet my wife’s best friend and godmother to my son, Portia.” Trent introduced me. “Portia, this is one of the new Senators from Rhode Island. He’s a friend, and he’s single.”
This had my hand on my hip, as I whirled around on Trent.
“Really?” I exclaimed.
“I am single,” the man chimed in.
“Good for you,” I whipped my head back around to address more of this guy, Duncan’s, unsolicited comments.
“It is.” He looked down at me. “That means you can marry me.”
What in the actual fuck?
Chapter Two
Portia
I was in the twilight zone and my friends were in it with me. I never had dreams like this before. They seemed so real. I pinched myself hard, so I could wake up, but nothing happened except the small sting to my forearm.
“Portia, what are you doing?” Bernie exclaimed.
My head turned around to see that I was still in the dream, and so was everyone else.
“Not a nightmare, darling,” Trent barely got out with a laugh.
I was about to say something very snarky in my Portia-like way, but the imposing height difference that suddenly loomed over me rendered me speechless.
It was Duncan, in my personal space, peering in my face.
“What are you doing?” I snapped at him, as my head jerked back.
Jeez, the man was tall. I was a good five foot seven, but he clearly was six foot six or so.
“Will you enter into a marriage with me?” Duncan asked with slightly more emotion than he emitted during our extremely brief encounter.
“Fuck, no,” I shouted and turned around to see Trent and Bernie laughing hysterically. “What’s so damn funny?”
“Portia, Duncan is looking for a wife,” she explained, like any of this made any damn sense.
“Ah. Okay. Good for him,” I replied. “What does that have to do with me?”
What was going on with my friend?
“Portia, you know how you’re always asking to marry friends of mine? Or for me to adopt you. Crazy shit like that. Well, Duncan, here, came to me with a fucked up request too. Said he needed a wife and asked if I knew of any suitable women. Naturally, I thought of you.”
He was smirking as if to say, ‘he wasn’t really thinking of me.’
“I was joking,” I scoffed because I had been half joking.
I should have known Trent’s crazy ass would bring me a guy who invaded people’s personal space, talking about looking for a wife.
Who the hell does that?
“I can assure you I am not joking,” Duncan said, before turning his attention to Trent. “She will do.”
What!?
“Hold the fuck up?” I raised my index finger and placed it in his face. “What do you mean she will do? I will not do. I do not ‘do.’ I don’t know you, and from what I can tell, you are rude as fuck! Who goes around telling people you’ll marry them?” I whirled my head around and glared at Trent and Bernie. “What type of new age shit are you into? You rich and famous folks don’t know how to act. You are at what constitutes a cookout, and you shouldn’t be telling people you are ‘looking for a wife’ or that ‘she’ll do.’”
Trent was cracking up, but Bernie’s wide eyes were filled with concern, as she remained standing in front of the counter full of chopped onions.
“Portia,” she called back. “Would you let me explain?”
“I will explain,” Duncan replied.
“No.” I turned to him and stopped him with my hand again. “You don’t explain anything. I don’t know you.”
I moved away from him and his imposing height to get closer to the exit leading out to the pool.
It was genius! Trent supported her throughout, but it was her support of him that was instrumental. He even said it in his victory speech. Even an emotional thug, like me, cried. Because I knew it was true.
They were not only cute, but two peas in a pod. Junior would be a wheeler and dealer. He already hustled me into taking him to see Bumble Bee. He didn’t ask, just assumed it was happening, and I would be the person responsible for making it go down.
“Duncan, here,” Bernie started and waved her hand in his direction. “Was just elected as one of the senators for Rhode Island. He’s extremely capable. Made his living as a data analyst. He’s a Republican, but he’s a rational thinker. Unlike some of the Republicans we detest.”
“Like your husband, when you first met him?” I could not help but put that out there.
“That’s not fair,” Trent chimed in. “Bernie just called me detestable this morning because I told her that Junior will learn how to use a gun.”
