by Emily Bowie
Moonlight Moments
STEELE FAMILY #2
EMILY BOWIE
Moonlight Moments
Copyright © 2019 Emily Bowie
Kindle Edition
Published by: Emily Bowie
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Page
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
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Epilogue
Sneak peek at Bittersweet Moments
Author note
Acknowledgments
Follow Emily
About the author
Other books by Emily Bowie
CHAPTER 1
When the cold metal door slams behind me, I’m left in silence. It’s almost deafening to my ears. I haven’t heard silence like this in too long. Looking skyward, I see a flock of birds, their sounds slowly taking over. Then it’s like I can hear everything—the sound of the wind, tires on asphalt, murmured voices—but I see no one. This is what it does to you; jail made my senses sharp, but everything around me is new. It’s like I didn’t know how to see or hear it before. Gradually, the old memory of these freedoms takes over me, making my skin prickle.
Taking a step forward, I can hear that distinct crunch of my shoes. Music to my ears. When I get to the parking lot, just as promised, my old beater of a truck sits there for me, looking freshly washed. Good old faithful. My hand runs along her rusted paint, its brashness welcome under my touch. It’s the little things like this I missed most of all.
Not that I regret anything. I would have taken the fall for my sister a thousand times over. It was well worth the sacrifice. What no one else knew was that going to jail saved me too. I would have never finished high school, never mind gotten a degree, if I stayed on the outside. That’s not even considering what type of trouble I would have gotten myself into. I’m almost certain I would have found myself in here anyway.
My keys are burdensome in my pocket, poking into me.
I have a plan and an endgame in mind, but I’m not sure how to start.
My fingers dig into my tighter-than-normal clothing.
I never realized how comfortable prison uniforms are compared to jeans. I would take being uncomfortable just for pockets though. It’s a nice luxury to have.
Great, I’m talking to myself in my head. Shit, I’m still doing it. They talked about feeling different once you stepped outside. Never thought it would apply to me. Pulling the keys out, they sit heavy in my hand as I hesitate.
I honestly don’t know my first step. Should I go home first? Looking at my watch, I see it’s still early, and I have lots of time before my sister Shay’s wedding. I need to stop her from getting married. Her last letter gutted me, making me realized she was only getting married to keep her promise to me. A promise in which I made her leave the love of her life, for a chance of a normal, free life outside of Three Rivers. I had thought if she left this small town, she would blossom, forgetting everything about this place. All I ever wanted was for her to be happy. For some fucked-up reason, I thought I knew better than she did. I know I fucked up, so this is her consolation: me trying to make it right.
I jimmy the key into my truck, just like I had to do five years ago. The normalcy of the act is comforting.
Backing out, I look in the rearview mirror, saying goodbye to what was my home for the last five years. Then I gun it out of the parking lot, my wheels squealing from not being used very often over the years. It’s kind of my own fuck you—yet to who, I’m not sure. Maybe I just think I’m supposed to feel that way.
My thoughts drift back to my family and my sister’s wedding. I look forward to seeing their reaction to me being out. I like the shock factor; some personality traits die hard. But overall, I hope they forgive me. Forgive me for putting them through not talking to them, cutting off all contact for my five-year stint. It was the only way I knew how to deal with it all.
The trees fly by, full with shades of green. I love Texas. I could never leave here. This is home. In the far distance, I can see a car on the side of the road with its hood up. My foot eases off the gas, not wanting to fly by. By the time I reach the car, I’m hardly moving the speed limit. My neck twists to see if I might know the person, until I see her.
She’s in the ditch, kicking her car wheel. Her fingers are laced into her hair, pulling at it so it looks like she’s been electrocuted, and then it falls gently to her shoulders once she pulls her hands out. I watch as she paces back and forth, seeming to be screaming directly at her car.
Yup, some people have it worse than me. I pull my truck to the side of the road and reverse so I am only a few feet away from her car.
CHAPTER 2
This is just my luck. I knew I should have had a tune-up before I left, but there was no time. My fingers press into my scalp and drag across my skin, pulling at my hair. I feel like crying. This is the worst week I’ve ever had. I can’t even say this has been my worst day, being stranded in the middle of nowhere, my phone dead, and I couldn’t even shower with warm water today. Nope, it was freezing cold. I never wish to wake up like that again, ever. And to think this still has not been the worst day I’ve had.
I’m just a few miles from the Three Rivers population sign. It’s like fate is telling me I’ve stayed past my twenty four hour time limit. I don’t remember the last time I stepped foot there for longer than this. I should have visited more. I thought about it once or twice.
I kick my tire as hard as I can. The shooting pain that travels up my leg is more than welcome. “I hate you!” I shout at my car and kick it again, all my emotions whirling around me like a tornado.
Tilting my head back, I look at the solid blue sky. “Why me?” I complain with my hands held against my head. When I get no response, I rub my forehead, dragging my hands down across my face, before I pretend to fake smoke. The actual habit died long ago, but I find the act itself helps me work through everything going on in my head.
“What are you l
ooking at?” I yell as an old piece of shit truck slows down so the driver can gawk at me like I’m a tourist attraction. Haven’t they ever seen a woman on the side of the road before? I kick my car tire again.
I’ve pictured this moment of me returning to Three Rivers before, but I was always older, successful, and Granny was still alive. None of that is my reality. I was always better than Three Rivers, wanting to “make it.” Funny how only now I wished I had visited sooner, when Granny was alive.
My two fingers come back up to my lips as I inhale. Calmly, I exhale, at the same time bringing my imaginary cigarette away from my lips, hoping to vanquish my pity party.
My mom left this town as soon as she could hitch a ride, but continued to drop me off here whenever I was an inconvenience, which happened to be a lot while growing up. I honestly never minded it and enjoyed my time here, but eventually my mother began to poison the idea of this town. From there, it only took a few wrong steps of my own before I stopped coming back here.
I’m so frustrated and angry at the moment, I don’t realize that clunker of a truck has stopped and now someone is getting out. This is how people go missing and vanish without a trace.
I take a step back, unsure of my surroundings. I have some pepper spray for bears in my car, but I would have to make a move to get it.
*
As I step out and head to her side, she stops yelling and kicking her car to stare at me. Her chest is heaving, and I see her forehead glistening with what must have been quite the workout for her. Her long, light brunette hair is wild, framing her face. Her lips are pressed together in a pink pout, and the lightest green eyes stare back at me. She is breathtaking.
I find my breath hitching before any words come out. “Can I help you out here?”
She takes a step back, evaluating me with her eyes. Uncertainty washes over her features, and I stay where I’m standing, not wanting to frighten her.
I’ve never seen her before, telling me that she is either new or heading somewhere away from here.
I nod toward the hood. “Mind if I check it out?”
“Sure.” Her voice comes out breathlessly.
I poke my head under the blue metal and can feel the heat and humidity radiating off the engine. My hand goes out, testing to find the warmest area before getting down on my hands and knees, looking below the car.
“How long have you been stopped?” I ask, my head under her car. I can see her black-checkered Vans take a step closer.
“About twenty minutes,” she grumbles.
“What happened to make you stop?” I get back up from my knees, using the opportunity to get another look at her. A silver hoop rests in her small, slightly curved nose. It seems to fit her personality perfectly, as it doesn’t stand out but enhances her understated beauty. I can’t help but notice black ink scribed along the outside of her right wrist, but I can’t make out the wording. I have a feeling she has more than the one tattoo that would catch my eye.
“My hood started to look like smoke was coming out of it.”
I nod, going to look back under the hood, checking the radiator hose, wishing I could take her in again. I pretend to be looking around, giving myself time so it doesn’t look like I’m staring. I can’t help but be mesmerized by her.
Popping my head back out, I point out the green slime-looking fluid that has accumulated under her car. “See that?”
She nods, biting on her thumb, with her other arm crossed under her elbow.
Looking at her, I get this gut reaction that I need to take her into my arms and kiss her. I try to push it down, telling myself it’s the freedom talking. But deep down, I know that isn’t the case.
“Your radiator fluid is leaking.”
“Shit!” Her swear comes out hoarse, making me chuckle.
I’m about to ask her if she needs me to call anyone for her, only to remind myself I don’t have a cell phone yet.
“Can I drop you off somewhere?”
She stands there looking from her car to me, uncertainty once again showcased in her features.
*
“Can I drop you off somewhere?” Is that code for I’ve lost my puppy; will you help me find it? Shouldn’t everyone’s first response be to ask if I need to call someone? Well, that’s not true. Most people’s first response is to keep driving by. That happened with the first two vehicles that passed me.
“Can I use your phone?” I ask, although I have no idea who I would call. I have no family that I care to inform of my whereabouts. My last living relative I kept in touch with just died. Bless Granny’s heart. She was the only one to ever look out for me and love me the way I should be.
His hand goes to the back of his neck, his bicep stretching the fabric while lifting the shirt up just enough to see a glimpse of his lower abs as he looks back at his truck then to me. “I forgot it at home,” he tells me. The answer seems forced, making me think he doesn’t want me to use it.
“So you’ll give me a ride, but not let me use your phone.” I take a step toward him, popping my hip, ready for a fight. He towers over me, looking taller than six feet, while his stormy eyes study me. The adrenaline from my week is coursing through me, and I forget that I probably shouldn’t be talking to strangers, never mind ones who have a thug edge to them. The urge to yell at him is stronger than all of the reasons why I should run away, making this more therapeutic than anything, allowing all the stress I’m keeping locked in to come pouring out.
His hands immediately push up. “Whoa. If you don’t want a ride, let me know who I should send back to you,” he says, clearly not up to the challenge.
I try to block out how good he smells, his pine scent hitting me as he moves in protest of my temperament. Taking a step back for both our own good, I try to relax before I do something stupid. He’s sexy enough to make my mouth dry up, with his chiseled jaw, dark, short hair, and eyes that seem to miss nothing.
Now I feel like shit for taking out my day on this nice guy. He looks like my typical “type.” I hate that I have one of those, and for that reason alone he is clearly off limits, with a big red sign blinking over his head. He’s solid, looks in shape, tall, and rough around the edges. He holds himself with a dominance that could be dangerous. If he had tattoos, I would be sure this is a test to see if I’ll fall back into my old habits. There is something about his deep gray eyes that tell my gut I should be able to trust him. My nipples pucker against my bra, liking my evaluation of him.
Finally, I speak. “Sorry. It’s been a bad day.” I can’t offer much more of an excuse. “I would love if you could drive me into Three Rivers to a mechanic shop.”
Even as the words come out, I know a mechanic shop will be useless. There is no way I can pay for the work that needs to be done.
This man seems to have every nerve in my body firing, and each one pricking against my skin spikes my energy with nowhere to place it.
His hands go into his pockets, and I scurry back into my car. I can’t help looking over my shoulder at him, waiting for a nervous twist in my gut, but it never comes. Instead, seeds of excitement are placed inside me that I can’t explain or want. Double-checking for my pepper spray in my purse, I bring it out of my car, keeping it close, because one can never be too careful.
He wastes no time after I close my car door to head to the passenger side of his truck as I follow behind him. I’m shocked when he opens my door, reminding me that looks can be deceiving. I honestly didn’t think men did that unless they were on dates. In fact, I don’t think most of my dates did that even then.
“Thank you.” I feel a smile fighting to surface; it’s the first time in weeks I’ve felt that sensation run through me.
Taking in a deep breath, I wonder how I can get my car back up and running. Leaning my head back, I close my eyes, giving myself a moment of peace. I remind myself to relax and a solution will come to me.
When I don’t hear his—
I pause, realizing I don’t know his name. Yup, I�
�m that girl. I shake my head in small little jerks. Oh well. His door still hasn’t opened, but I have heard his tailgate open and close. My eyes open one at a time, worried about what I might find, to see he’s crouching at the front of my car and the hood is down.
At this point, I don’t care. Just let it be. Everything seems to be out of my hands anyway. I sit there in the front, my purse in my lap and my hand in my bag, grasping my pepper spray.
“Sorry that took so long.” I look up to see him hopping into the driver side. “Thought I would tow you to the mechanic.”
My head swivels toward the back window, and sure enough, it’s behind us, a triangle metal contraption connecting my car to his truck.
“I wasn’t sure if I still had my old tow bar for the job back there, but sure enough, all of my tow stuff is right where I put them.”
I nod. “Thank you.” My fingers loosen on the spray. I wait for him to elaborate why he thought they might be gone, but he doesn’t. And all I want to do is get back to the house.
CHAPTER 3
I peek over at the woman sitting in my passenger seat and wonder what she has gone through to be stranded here. She seems to be too skittish for it to be a typical breakdown, but who am I to judge?
“I’m Kellen, by the way.”
She gives me an unconvincing smile, and her hand stays in her bag. “Sloan,” she introduces.
“Got mace in there?” I ask jokingly. The way her eyes pop and her jaw opens and closes tells me I’m on the right track. “I hope you don’t plan on using that.” I don’t know why I smile at this, but the thought of me just getting out of jail to be maced is kind of funny, in a morbid way.
“And he laughs.” Her eyes are still wide like she cannot believe my reaction.
“Sorry, sweetheart. That would be just my type of luck.”
I see a smile wanting to escape before her pout covers it up.
“First of all, I’m no one’s sweetheart, darling.” The sass and attitude coming out of this woman’s mouth are something else. My cock twitches, wanting her lips to be curled around it. The way she throws the endearing term “darling” out at me, like I should hate it, only intrigues me more. I like it when a woman can hold her own against me. It’s been way too long since I’ve bantered like this.
