by Scott, S. L.
Copyright © 2021 by S.L. SCOTT
All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the written permission of the author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Published in the United States of America
ISBN: 978-1-7371472-5-1
Cover Photographer: Sydnee Rayl Photography
Cover Models: Kylie and Alex Katich
Cover Designer: RBA Designs
Adriana Locke, Content Editor
Marion Archer, Making Manuscripts
Jenny Sims, Editing4Indies
Proofreading: Kristen Johnson
Beta Reading: Andrea Johnston
Contents
Also by S.L. Scott
In the know
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Tealey’s Book Recommendations
Never Got Over You
Never Got Over You Chapter 1
Follow Me
Thank You
Also by S.L. Scott
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We Were Once
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Complementary to Head Over Feels
Never Got Over You
The One I Want
Crazy in Love
We Were Once
Next Book Coming Soon
New York Love Stories (Stand-Alones)
Never Got Over You
The One I Want
Crazy in Love
Head Over Feels
Hard to Resist Series (Stand-Alones)
The Resistance
The Reckoning
The Redemption
The Revolution
The Rebellion
The Crow Brothers (Stand-Alones)
Spark
Tulsa
Rivers
Ridge
The Crow Brothers Box Set
DARE - A Rock Star Hero (Stand-Alone)
The Everest Brothers (Stand-Alones)
Everest - Ethan Everest
Bad Reputation - Hutton Everest
Force of Nature - Bennett Everest
The Everest Brothers Box Set
The Kingwood Series
SAVAGE
SAVIOR
SACRED
FINDING SOLACE - Stand-Alone
The Kingwood Series Box Set
Playboy in Paradise Series
Falling for the Playboy
Redeeming the Playboy
Loving the Playboy
Playboy in Paradise Box Set
Talk to Me Duet (Stand-Alones)
Sweet Talk
Dirty Talk
Stand-Alone Books
We Were Once
Missing Grace
Finding Solace
Until I Met You
Drunk on Love
Naturally, Charlie
A Prior Engagement
Lost in Translation
Sleeping with Mr. Sexy
Morning Glory
In the know
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Head Over Feels
S.L. Scott
S.L. Scott
Prologue
Rad Wellington
Have you ever met one of those couples who tell their meet-cute story while finishing each other’s sentences and sharing every detail of how they fell in love?
It’s annoying. Am I right?
It’s all surface and no substance. That’s not how my brain works.
Facts.
Figures.
Substance.
Emotions have no place in my life. Never have. So this is not that kind of story.
In fact, this story starts with a blindside . . . mine, to be precise.
Even though I used to laugh at the notion of love, Cupid’s arrow shot me right in the ass just before I landed on it. All thanks to a girl.
Tealey Bell.
Just to get this out of the way, we were never meant to be. At least not more than the friends we became. Enter exhibit one as evidence: how we met.
It’s a preposterous story, one with a twist I never saw coming—namely, a golden-haired beauty on top of me. Look, it’s not unusual to have a woman land on me. They struggle to keep their hands off me, but let’s keep that between us. I’m already fighting a playboy reputation, so no need to add fuel to that fire, even if it is true.
I may have been an innocent bystander to her stumbling ways, but I don’t believe in accidents. We may not be meant to be, but we were meant to meet. I’ll never forget how her cheeks flamed red, matching the strawberries squashed between us. There was something about her being sorry as I momentarily got lost in her blue eyes. That is, until her gaze lowered to the mess on my shirt, and she said, “Bam, and here we are.”
Bam is an understatement.
Seven years later, I still haven’t recovered. I hate that I stare at her when she’s not looking, and that jealousy bubbles up when I meet her dates or, worse, boyfriends. I hate that her laughter calls to me from across a room and how disappointment stabs me when her smile isn’t directed at me.
Want to know what I really hate?
That I didn’t tell her how I felt when I had the chance.
But a promise is a promise.
Unfortunately, that’s what got me into this mess, and now I’m caught in the middle. To fully understand the predicament I now find myself in, we need to rewind. Not to the beginning, but to the moment I promised one friend a favor and fell head over feels for the other.
1
Radcliffe Wellington
(You can call me Rad. All my good friends do.)
“Such an odd achievement for a guy who breaks up marriages.” Tealey holds the crystal award in her hands. My award. On
e of the three Big Apple’s Most Eligible Bachelor honors I’ve received. I keep the others at home because I don’t want to boast too much.
“I don’t break up marriages.” I temper my defensiveness, noticing she couldn’t care less about the Klein & Sable award right next to it. I’m pretty proud of winning my law firm’s top honor this last year.
Trying to act casual by leaning back in my leather chair, I kick my feet up on my desk, and say, “They’re already broken when a client walks through that door.”
Relationships are complicated. I’ve traveled that road before—three times total. They lasted anywhere from two weeks to two months max. The frivolous notion of love never factored into those relationships, so no hearts were broken. Particularly not mine.
For me, dating is about companionship, something I rarely crave. And since sex satisfies my physical needs, it’s easy to separate the two. I have a contacts list in my phone that goes for miles, and the one thing they don’t need is dinner and small talk. Their needs, just like mine, are met in the bedroom. No intimacy required. No dates scheduled. No food is involved unless they’re into that kind of thing. *winks*
No hassles.
No strings.
No heartache.
Yet the woman in front of me, the only person I’d consider changing my current dating lifestyle for, can only—will only—ever remain my friend.
Tealey holds the trophy in the air. “It’s heavy, like it holds the weight of bachelorhood inside.” Her laughter is light, almost as if for herself.
I anchor my feet back on the floor. “I don’t know about the weight of bachelorhood, but it definitely holds my reputation.”
“Serial dater?” She lifts a brow. “Commitment-phobe?”
I could be offended, but she’s right on the money. “That’s fair.”
She smiles, her eyes darting from the award and then back to me. “What do they base this on?” she asks. “Really.”
“I don’t know. Reputation probably plays a part. Financials. Looks, maybe?”
She’d make the worst attorney in the world. She’s unable to hide her emotions since she wears her heart on her sleeve. Her displeasure causes her to purse her lips and narrow her eyes as if the award in her hands personally offended her. “You’re more than connections and financials, Rad.”
I quirk a smile. “Didn’t know you cared, Bell.”
She rolls her eyes but quirks a smile as she sets the award back on the shelf. It’s slightly askew, similar to how she leaves me feeling. “Of course, I do. We’re friends.”
I sit back and take her in. She’s as beautiful as she was the day she fell on top of me seven years ago. Her sweetheart face is a bit fuller, her hair a little lighter. It’s long again after cutting it to make our friend Cammie feel better about a bad haircut.
But that’s Tealey—the woman who came back into my life five days after our fateful encounter when my friend Cade started dating her friend Cammie, and our two groups merged into one.
Any hopes of dating Tealey Bell were squashed back then, just like those strawberries between us.
“I still don’t get why that stuff is important.”
“It’s not. The title is utter nonsense, but the perks are nice,” I say, trying not to let myself focus too much on her.
Our eyes stay locked for a few seconds before she averts hers again. “By perks, I assume that means having your choice of date every night of the week?”
This time, I sigh, tilt back in my chair, and fold my arms behind my head. “I wouldn’t say every night, but it’s good to have options.”
“Options. Okay . . .”
“It’s for charity, so how can I say no?”
“No,” she replies dryly but then grins. “Just like that. It’s easy. Anyway, there are other ways to give back to your community than to . . .” Her brows pinch together. “What did you have to do to win this?”
“Have sex with prominent donors.”
“What?” Her eyes dart to mine, the soft blues brighter in the afternoon sunlight flooding my office. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“That I need to tell you says everything.”
Amusement dances in her smile. Returning to the award, she runs a finger down the side of it. “The phrase most eligible downplays the fact that you’re not looking to become ineligible.” Her brow furrows, displeased. “It’s like false advertising to the women who think they can snag you.”
“What exactly does snagging entail?” I’m an attorney, not a detective, so I have no idea where she’s leading this conversation. I’m enjoying our chat but also wading through until she opens up about the real reason she’s here. I know for a fact that Tealey didn’t drop by to talk about my accolades, and she didn’t just happen to be in the neighborhood, considering how far apart our neighborhoods are.
“Weren’t you the one who said you prefer the wrong woman, so you have a built-in excuse not to call her the day after your tawdry affair?”
She’s good with the details. Maybe she wouldn’t make such a bad attorney after all.
“That was years ago, and tawdry is not a word synonymous with me. I’m top-notch and more than generous if you know what I mean.”
I expect a laugh or knowing grin at the very least, but she silently crosses the room to look out the window instead. Her gaze lengthens into the distance of the Manhattan skyline. It’s unlike her not to volley when I give her the perfect setup.
When the silence extends, I notice the change in her demeanor—all lightness being held hostage by the thoughts that appear to consume her. I sit forward again and pick up a pen. “It’s quite a trek from Brooklyn for a one-hour lunch break. Anything specific bring you by?”
Hesitant, she exhales slowly. “Yes.”
Her apprehension concerns me. She’s not usually one to hide her feelings. “What’s going on, Tealey?”
“Rad?” With her Bahama blue eyes set on mine, she drags her teeth over her lip. “I need . . . I need you.”
The pen snaps, causing us both to look down at the ink on my hands. “Shit.”
She rushes to grab a tissue from the box on the shelf and then to me. “What happened?” Taking my hand in hers, she starts rubbing my palm to no great avail.
Stopping her by stilling her hand, I ask, “You need me?”
“Yes, I need someone I can trust,” she replies, returning to the distraction of my hands. Peeking at me from under long lashes, she adds, “A lawyer, and you’re a lawyer.”
Was it foolish to even consider the idea of her meaning anything more than needing my legal skills? Probably. Yet, because of the fool I am, I stupidly believed this was some long-overdue opportunity to . . . to what exactly? Clenching my jaw, I run through what the hell I thought this could be—a hookup, a precursor to a date? The whole situation with Tealey is impossible.
Fucking fool.
I switch gears, burying my personal feelings. “Why do you need an attorney?”
Losing hope for cleaning my hands, she looks around the office as if her nerves have taken over. “Anything you can offer, advice or otherwise, I’ll take.”
“I’ll help if I can. What’s your concern?”
Whispering, she adds, “Preferably free.” Embarrassment taints her cheeks as she drags her eyes away from mine. “I can’t offer much in return—”
“Hey?” When she looks my way, somberness washes over her usually happy expression. “What’s going on, Tealey?”
“I need a divorce.”
As if the needing me didn’t shock me enough, my jaw slacks as I realize I was wrong. She’d absolutely kick my ass in court by the way she throws tidbits out like bombs. I’m so confused by this curveball that I stumble through my next words. “I didn’t know, know you were married.”
“I’m not.” Thank fuck. Her hand rests against her chest, and she adds, “It’s not for me. It’s for someone I’m working with.”
“A case?”
Her eyes lower, dragging the
corners of her lips down with them. “Yes, a woman I’m working with at the social services office. She has two kids. I found a place for them to stay for a short time, a safe place, but we’re trying to help her move to Philadelphia, where her mother lives. Her mother can give her the help she needs with the kids while she works and then after school.” Her expression is as soft as her tone. “She needs a divorce and permission to take the kids out of state.”
I’m not generally an overly emotional guy. Many years of training myself to bury those reactions in court have served me well. But every now and then, my chest tightens, like it is now. She’s so damn kindhearted. “You’ve never come to me before—”
“Misty Connor, that’s her name. She’s gotten terrible advice. One attorney told her to stay in the marriage and work it out for the kids.” Leaning forward, she flattens her palms on the desk as if she has no other choice. “He’s . . . awful, Rad. I can’t go into the details, but she needs this divorce. She needs to be free from him. These kids need a stable home, and she and her mother can provide that for them.”
