by A. M. Myers
“Sweetie, why do you sound like you’re trying to defend him?”
She sighs. “You know why. We always swore that we wouldn’t be like Mother and then here I go, falling for the damn mayor’s son. His family has more money than God and I’m a hypocrite.”
When I was little, I can remember how happy my parents were. My dad had this booming laugh and it echoed through the halls of our home regularly. We weren’t rich, but my dad worked hard to give us the best life he could and we were loved. Then, overnight, it all changed. My parents fought more and my dad’s laugh became less and less frequent. Mother walked around the house, ignoring Dad and his various attempts to make her happy and it didn’t matter to her one bit that he bent over backward to give her anything her heart desired. It was never enough.
A week before my sixth birthday, she came home and packed our things. Dad came home from work to find her shoving suitcases into the trunk of her car and he lost it. It’s the only time in my life I ever saw my dad cry and he begged her not to tear our family apart. She was vindictive though and couldn’t resist twisting the knife in further. The look on his face when she told him she’d met someone new and was marrying him will forever be burned into my memory. Even at five years old, the absolute devastation was obvious and my innocent little heart broke for my Daddy.
As we drove away from the house, I looked out of the back window and watched my dad fall to his knees in the front yard, tears streaming down his face as he lost his entire world. That was the last time I saw him. A week later, he shoved a pistol in his mouth and ended it all. And my mother began her sick little cycle of meeting a very wealthy man, charming the pants off of him, marrying him, and then leaving him with a good chunk of his net worth in her pocket because somehow, she always talks them out of a pre-nup. She’s on the prowl for husband number six while number five is still nursing a broken heart and a smaller bank account.
I brush away those thoughts. “Well, like I said, I’m a little surprised but I know it’s not the same thing, Vi. You’re not attracted to him because of his money, right?”
She shakes her head. “Of course not. That was the thing that almost made me run from him. He’s so damn charming though and we connect on so many levels. I really didn’t stand a chance.”
“You look happy,” I muse, almost to myself, and she smiles wide.
“I am. God, I don’t know what it is. He just gets me.”
“I’m really happy for you,” I tell her. How could I not be? I’m a fan of anything that makes my sister look this blissfully happy.
She lets out a surprised laugh, placing her hand over her chest as she wipes away a single tear. “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. I thought, for sure, that you would hate him on principle. You have to believe me when I say that he’s different.”
“I believe you. He just better treat you right.”
She nods. “He treats me like a queen. I can’t imagine my life without him.”
“You sound like you’re in love.”
She nods. “We’re moving in together.”
A warning bell goes off in my head. “Whoa. How long have you been seeing this guy?”
She blushes again, avoiding my gaze, and I get the impression I will not like her answer. “Four months.”
“Four months,” I breathe out, unable to wrap my mind around the fact that my sister kept this from me. Being only thirteen months apart, we’ve always shared everything. She’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember and she’s my confidant so her keeping this from me hurts more than I expected it to. She was the first person I turned to when my world was ripped apart and I thought we were always honest with each other.
“Please don’t be mad at me, Sissy. I didn’t mean to hide it from you. When I first met him, I completely dismissed him because he was so much like all the guys that Mom liked to hang around, but he was so persistent and I saw other sides of him. Before I realized it, I was falling. I was scared of what you would think so I kept putting it off.”
“And now you’re moving in together?”
She nods. “Yeah.”
I take a sip of my tea as I try to process her words. A huge part of me is incredibly happy for her but there is this tiny part that keeps screaming that it’s too soon. “After a few months, Vi? Isn’t that a little fast?”
“Maybe,” she replies with a shrug. “But it just feels so right and I can’t fight it anymore. He makes me happy.”
I wait a beat, watching her before I smile softly. Ivy is a smart girl and I trust her judgment. “Well, then I can’t wait to meet him.”
“You mean it?” Her voice is timid and I hate she even has to ask. Nothing has ever come between us before and nothing ever will.
“Absolutely.”
She squeals and does a little dance in her seat and I laugh.
“Listen, Mother’s issues are her own and as long as you’re safe and happy, I don’t care how much money is in his bank account or who his father is.”
Nate stops at our table and places Ivy’s plate down in front of her before handing me my salad and turning without a word. Ivy watches him leave and scoffs.
“Okay, so he’s a little rude.”
I arch a brow and nod. “Ya think?”
“So,” she muses as I glance down at my plate and stab a tomato with my fork. “What about you? Isn’t it about time you find someone that makes you deliriously happy?”
“Ivy,” I warn because she knows better than to broach this subject with me but she’s going there anyway. She shakes her head.
“Hell, no, don’t you “Ivy” me. I’m serious. I get that what happened to you was beyond messed up and you’ve been hurting for a long time but, Car, it’s been twelve years. It’s time to let it go and move on with your life. I mean, you’re twenty-eight years old and you’ve never had a serious relationship.”
I shake my head, meeting her eyes so she can see how serious I am. “I have moved on, Vi. I just don’t think that sort of thing is for me.”
“What sort of thing would that be? Love? Happiness? A normal healthy relationship?”
“Hey, I’m happy.”
She frowns and shakes her head. “You can lie to everyone else around you, but you can’t fool me; you’ve always dreamed of your prince charming.”
“I was a kid. People grow up and the world teaches them how stupid they were to believe in shit like that.” Sighing, I set my fork down and grab my tea. Staring out at the busy sidewalk, I take a sip and try to forget the memories she’s forcing to the surface before turning back to her. “Ivy, sweetie, I’m thrilled you’re happy. I really am but please don’t try to get me to jump into a relationship now. It’s not going to happen.”
“I just want you to be open to the idea, Carly. You deserve to be happy, too. And the rotation of guys you use to hide the fact that you’re lonely will get old if it hasn’t already.”
I force a smile as I try to ignore just how much her words hit the mark. “That’s the point of the rotation, Vi. Then, it doesn’t get old.”
“Um, ew! You’re so damaged,” she teases, shaking her head as she takes a bite of food and looks out at the sidewalk. “Just think about it, okay? For me?”
Sighing, I nod, giving in to my little sister. “I’ll think about it but that’s it.”
“I’ll wear you down eventually,” she says with a wink and I sputter out a laugh.
“Why don’t you just tell me more about this guy? How did you guys meet?”
My phone buzzes on the table and I scoop it up, rolling my eyes at the text from Chance on the screen.
Chance:
Hey.
Ignoring the ridiculous flutter in my chest, I delete the message and set my phone down as I turn back to Ivy. She launches into the story about how she met her new man as I try to push my promise to her out of my mind. There is no way in hell I will settle down. Ever.
* * * *
Chance:
Hey, gorgeous.
Chance:
Having a good day?
I stare down at the series of texts on the screen and sigh as I fall back onto my bed with a groan. I knew I shouldn’t have given him my number. And yet, this is exactly what I expected and I have to admit it’s not completely unwelcome if the goofy smile threatening to surface and my fluttering heart is any indication. I sit up and stare down at the screen again.
I need to get a handle on this.
Me:
It’s fine.
Pushing off the bed, I slip into the walk-in closet and hang up the dress I was looking at before padding into the living room and absentmindedly gazing across the room. I need something to do—something to distract me from the fact that each tick of the clock feels like an eternity as I wait for his reply. My phone dings in my hand and I’m unlocking it before I can even tell myself what a bad idea this is.
Chance:
Just fine?
Chance:
Anything I can do to make it better?
I picture him storming across the room and pinning me up against the wall as he slips his inked hand between my thighs before I remind myself to get a grip. Shaking my head, I stare down at the screen, unable to come up with an answer that wouldn’t require a triple-X warning. God, this man gets to me.
Me:
Why exactly are you texting me?
As I blow out a breath, I turn into the kitchen and set my phone on the counter before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. Twisting the cap off, I lean against the island and survey the place I’ve been living in for the past six years. It’s a two-bedroom penthouse just a block away from downtown Baton Rouge and a gift from my mother and husband number four for my college graduation. She also spent a small fortune decorating it to her exact tastes and I hate everything about it. From the lavish furniture no person straight out of college should be able to afford to the marble countertops and Brazilian walnut floors, it screams money. And not in a subtle way, but in the ostentatious way that makes people hate those who have a large bank account.
Truthfully, I envy Alison and the way she’s been able to completely renovate her own home to make it exactly how she wants it. My phone’s chime pulls me out of my thoughts and I sigh as I glance down.
Chance:
I wanted to talk to you.
Me:
That doesn’t sound like an emergency.
I shouldn’t be smiling right now. Or encouraging him by texting him back but I can’t seem to stop myself either. Another text lights up my phone.
Chance:
Seemed urgent to me.
Rolling my eyes, I swipe my phone off the counter and mosey over to the couch before sinking into it with a sigh. Of course, he thinks it’s urgent. I can imagine him saying it, too, like he has every right in the world to get to know me. And why would he think any differently? He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t understand the demons that make it difficult for me to even think of starting something with him. Then again, I am in the market for a new “friend” after ending things with Sam. But there’s something about him holding me back. The attraction between us was so strong that I would almost assume I imagined it except each time I think about him, I’ve got butterflies dancing around in my belly. My phone chimes again and my heart rate picks up as I open the message.
Chance:
Come on, Darlin’. Just talk to me.
I promise I don’t bite.
Chance:
Unless, of course, you’re into that kind of thing.
A giggle spills out of my mouth before I can stop it and I clamp my hand over my lips, trying my damnedest to not picture him sinking his teeth into my skin. A shiver races through me and I sigh. I stare down at the phone screen for a moment before tossing the phone next to me on the couch and crossing my arms over my chest to resist the urge to reply to his message. It’s insane. I recognize that it’s a terrible idea and yet, my fingers twitch to reach over and text him back. What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve spent thirty minutes with the man, but I haven’t been able to get him out of my mind for the past two days. Has it only been that long? Why can’t I leave it alone? This is a terrible idea and it can only end badly but even knowing that, I’m still fighting to not pick up the phone and continue this playful flirtation he seems intent on pursuing.
The screen lights up with another text from him and I turn away from it, slowly releasing a breath. As I peek back over at it, I wonder what he said this time. Whatever it is, it’s sure to make my heart race just like anytime I think about him. It’s been so damn long since I’ve felt like this, but my resulting heartbreak is as real today as it was twelve years ago. In one swift moment, I was changed from a sweet, innocent girl who believed in things like love and forever before the world taught me how vicious it could be.
Needing a distraction, I grab the remote and turn on the TV, flicking through channels as I try to forget the things from my past. Every so often, I glance over to my phone, eyeing it like it’s a bomb about to go off before I huff and turn back to the TV. I’ve flipped through two hundred channels and I still have no idea what’s on. As I turn to the next channel, I resolve myself to just watch whatever is playing but as soon as the commercial ends and I recognize a scene from The Notebook, I turn it off and lay my head back on the couch.
My eyes drift closed and Chance’s face pops into my mind, smiling at me with that dimple popping out in his cheek. Warmth trickles over my skin as a smile spreads across my face. I can still feel his touch where he brushed his fingers over my neck and I suck in a breath as my flesh tingles at the memory. What is it about him that gets to me so much? I mean, sure, he’s gorgeous but it’s more than that because I’ve met gorgeous men before and never experienced this. Like he already owns a part of me.
No.
I shove off the couch and walk out to the kitchen, my hands shaking. I absolutely cannot go there—with him or anyone else. It’s been twelve years since I was stupid enough to let a man into my life and I won’t survive another heartbreak. Bracing my hands on the countertop, the calendar on the wall catches my eye and I suck in a breath. I should have just taken this whole week off and gone to Fiji or something. I could be lying on a beach, sipping a cocktail instead of obsessing about the one night I wish I could forget.
Rounding the island, I walk back over to the couch to grab my phone, contemplating if I should call one of my past hook-ups but I’m greeted by a text from Chance.
Chance:
I know you felt it, too.
Goddamn it.
He’s right and I hate it. Of course, I felt it. Was there anyone in a one-block radius that didn’t sense the electricity between us? I should just dismiss the text, call someone to scratch this itch, or go to bed but the pull is too strong. Even as I tell myself to ignore his message, my fingers are already tapping out a reply.
Me:
So, what if I did?
Sinking into the couch, I wonder if I just made an epic mistake and sold my soul to the devil.
Or if I even care anymore.
Chapter Three
Chance
Me:
You ready to go out with me yet?
I press send and smirk, imagining her reaction as I tuck the phone back into my pocket and grab my bottle of beer from the table. It won’t work; I understand that, but she and I both know there is something here and I’ll keep pushing until she gives in.
“What is that dumbass smile on your face for?” Kodiak asks and I shrug.
“Nothing.”
“Bull…”
The slam of a door upstairs cuts him off and we both slowly turn toward the stairs as Storm appears at the top and stomps down them, a look of murder on his face. I glance over at Kodiak, who shrugs before glancing over at our VP again.
“Move your ass. We got shit to do,” Storm barks, slapping a folder down on the table in front of me without stopping as he continues marching toward the front door.
“Yeah. Good luck
with that,” Kodiak mutters, watching Storm shove open the door and step outside. I haven’t got a fucking clue what’s going on with my best friend lately, but he’s been crankier than usual. Taking one last pull of my beer, I grab the folder and my cut off the back of the chair before following him out. When I get out to the parking lot, Storm is already sitting behind the steering wheel of his truck, his arms crossed over his chest, and I jog over to the passenger side and climb in.
“Where are we going?”
He glances down at the folder in my hand before backing out of the parking space. “Read that shit and you’ll have your fucking answer.”
“Jesus, man. What the hell crawled up your ass and died?”
“Go fuck yourself,” he grumbles as he pulls away from the clubhouse and I shake my head as I lean back and flip open the folder, scanning its contents quickly.
“First of all, fuck you, too, and how hard would it have been for you to just say we have a surveillance job to do?” I ask as I flip through the pages, trying to soak up as much information as possible before we reach our location. Our client is a local business owner who hired us to watch his employees and find out where they go on their breaks. It seems easy enough but annoying as shit. I started doing the PI work because I liked the job and I wanted to help people but doing this kind of thing makes me hate it.
“Probably about as hard as it was for you to just open the fucking thing and read.”
Closing the folder, I slap it down on my lap and stare at him. “Seriously, what the fuck is your problem?”
