by J. P. Oliver
On the other side of the room, facing the window, I’d placed a desk.
“A place for you, mi tesoro. A place for you to read and write.” I grinned and pulled him to my side. “I don’t want to lose you for days at a time, but you need a place to be alone with your stories.”
“I—” He said nothing else. His eyes wide, he stepped into his library, his office, his place to go when he needed to make something beautiful. I watched as he went to the desk and ran his fingers over it reverently, like it was an altar. He sat in the office chair and bounced, then spun it. Only then did he see the bookshelf tucked against the wall. He walked to it and spent several silent moments scanning the titles, taking out this book or that, studying it before sliding it back into place.
“Jamie…” he finally said.
“Beck.”
“I love this. I…I don’t know how to thank you.”
“The look in your eyes thanks me, mi tesoro. Your happiness makes me happy.”
He was across the room and in my arms in an instant. “I’m happy.”
“I’m happy, too,” I replied, and then his mouth was on mine, lips parted, tongue warm. We kissed for a long time, as passionately as we ever had. He broke the kiss only to slide to his knees in front of me, his hand on my erection.
“The look in my eyes notwithstanding”—the look in his eyes at that moment was supremely naughty, knee-weakeningly seductive—“I could maybe do a little more to actually thank you.” He undid my fly with a single motion.
I tried to laugh, but my throat was dry. Mi ángel had never looked sexier, and stepping away from his expert grip was the hardest thing I’d ever done.
“I will take your thanks all night, mi amor, and give you mine. But do one other thing for me first?”
He cocked his head curiously, the gleam still in his eyes. “Anything, mi amor.”
I knelt too, then, across from him. And I reached into my back pocket, withdrawing a small velvet box.
“Marry me, Beck Powell. Be my husband.”
I opened the box. A simple platinum band, almost delicate in my fingers, though it would look much larger on him. He reached for it but didn’t take it.
“You’ve done so much for me, Jamie. My life, this room, this ring… I love you so much, but sometimes…” He blinked, and a teardrop stuck to his eyelash like a tiny diamond. “I don’t want to just take, you know?”
I took the ring and set the box aside, then held his hand and slid the little circle on his finger.
“I am younger and happier and stronger with you in my life than I have ever been. For now, mi amor, just live with me and promise to love me.” I kissed him again. I couldn’t help it. “You can buy me pretty things when you become a famous writer.”
He laughed, blinking away another tear. “I love you, Jamie Flores. And I’ll be happy to be your husband.”
We both laughed then, and kissed some more, and eventually I stood and lifted him and pressed him close to my body. I carried him out of his study and into our bedroom, and I laid him on the bed, and we made love until the autumn chill burned out of the room and the air grew thick with sighs and whispers. After, I held him close and felt his racing heartbeat slow to the steady rhythm of sleep.
And this was how we would sleep every night. Forever. Siempre. Here for each other.
Get ready for book 5 in the For You Series, Wilde For You.
Available Soon!
Chapter 1 Preview – Wilde For You
Benji
The outside.
Wasn’t a place I expected to see for a while, not after the shit I pulled. My parole officer laid down the law at our last meeting, and she wasn’t going to budge.
I had to get a job – and keep it – otherwise I was headed back to the slammer.
With a great sigh, I went home, or whatever home looked like for a washed-up rat like me. My mother was expecting me back soon, and if I kept her waiting, she’d call the station to see if I was picked up again. I didn’t want her to worry.
The amazing Janice Wilde, my beautiful mother, my safety net, and possibly the only good thing that ever happened to me, was cleaning up in the kitchen when I walked through the door.
“Benji, you’re back! How’d the meeting go?” She dried her hands off on a towel, smiling with a blind trust I didn’t deserve.
I shrugged off my jacket. “Fine, mom. I appreciate you letting me stay here for a while.”
She tossed the towel over her shoulder and rubbed my arm, then squeezed me in a hug that barely reached my chest. “I wouldn’t let you sleep on the street. What sort of mother would I be?”
A smart one. I patted her back without responding.
“So?” My mom pulled away. “What did she say?”
“Well, mostly that I’m fucked if I don’t find a job.” I rubbed a hand over my tatted shoulder. “But no one’s going to hire me, at least not in Harlan.”
Her face went stern. “Don’t think like that. There’re a few places hiring. I can think of three off the top of my head.”
I shot her a wry smile. “Oh, yeah? Name them.”
My mom pulled out the notepad she always carried with her, as if she’d been doing some research into the matter. “Rebecca’s place needs an extra dishwasher.”
“That’s not the top of your head.”
“Oh, pish-posh.” She smiled up at me, slapping my shoulder lightly. “You know how slippery my mind’s been lately.”
I rolled my eyes and conceded. “Continue.”
She offered a prim smile and continued as requested. “Nathan Halladay’s dad needs someone to work in the shop. You can weld, can’t you?”
“No, and I don’t think I’d be too welcome, either. Nathan was a little weasel in high school, and I sort of beat his ass, a lot.” No point in lying to her, of all people. “What else you got?”
Finally, my mother’s face reflected the disappointment I deserved. “Him too?”
The weight of her gaze made me glance out the window. “Yeah, him too.”
“But you turned over a new leaf.” The optimism was back. “That’s why they let you out early, right?”
“I suppose.” It was mostly my backbreaking efforts of staying under the radar, and not getting into fights, no matter how tempting. I was known for disregarding the rules, so when it came time for consideration, the panel was stunned that I had no discernable black marks.
They let me out on one condition.
“Either way, you should talk to Mr. Halladay, I’m sure he could use your help. They’ve been working on people’s farm equipment, that’s why they’re looking for more hands.” She flipped a page over. “Oh! And check with the church-”
I stifled a laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
“Of course, I’m serious.” She snatched my coat from the rack and handed it to me. “Now, cover up those tats and hit the pavement. You’re not going back there. Not on my watch.”
It was pointless to argue that my jacket hardly covered the spidering mandalas across my neck. I kissed my mother on the top of her head and shrugged it on. “Thanks, mom.”
“Anytime, sweetie.” She winked, but as I turned to leave, I saw a shadow cross her face. If nothing else, I would never break her heart again.
After what I’d done, the courts revoked my license. Instead of taking my mother’s car, I had to call Lyft for a ride. I silently prayed it wasn’t someone I knew from high school.
Thankfully, it wasn’t.
We pulled up to the church and I sat in the car a little while longer than necessary, watching the prissy old ladies exit the double-doors in droves.
One caught my eye on the way to her Mazda and startled. She rushed to get her bags in, then slammed the doors and locked them, making a point to jam the button down.
Wonderful, I thought. Couldn’t get any better, and this was just the start.
“Are you getting out?” The driver eyed me, as if I was going to stiff him. How could I, though? He alre
ady had my mother’s credit card information.
“Give me a minute.” I hunkered in the seat, trying to play invisible, if only for a moment. I waited until the little old ladies dispersed before sliding out. “Thanks for the ride.”
The driver rolled his eyes and locked the doors before speeding off.
I’d make sure to tank his rating when I got home.
As I stepped up to the church doors, I scrambled for the old man’s name. Deacon Gilbert? Griff? Gerhart? Maybe I should’ve listened to my mother before leaving. I couldn’t, for the life of me, remember the old man’s name. I’d only met him once, years ago when she dragged me to church. But he was good friends with my mother and he might actually lead me in the right direction.
Inside the little church there was a bulletin with Harlan community’s entire schedule for the month of May, including hosted events, job openings, and other random gigs. This place was definitely tight-knit, I considered as I found a long list of addresses and phone numbers to go with the job offers.
“Can I help you with something?” The deacon’s weathered face looked to me warily. Of course, he didn’t recognize me under all these tats.
Puberty hadn’t helped, either.
“Hey, um.” I glanced around, there was no one else in sight. “I was just looking at the bulletin board for jobs.”
“What’s your name, son?” His gray eyes peered closer.
“Benji. Benji Wilde.” I offered my hand, in an attempt to be as cordial as possible. Most people couldn’t be bothered treating me like a person. I couldn’t say I blamed them.
The old man’s face lit up as he took my hand. “Benjamin? Janice’s kid?”
“That’s me.”
The deacon balked at my stature. “Can’t be, you were just a tyke last I saw you! How is your mother doing?”
I stood there, ashamed of myself and the predicament I put her in. “She’s happy I’m home, I suppose. I’m trying to get a job so she can retire.”
“She said you’d gotten out of prison not too long ago.” The deacon considered something, panning over the bulletin board. “You’re looking for a job, but I don’t think anyone here is going to take felons.”
My heart sank. The word itself made me cringe, and the fact that the deacon knew my standing didn’t help my confidence. “It’s all right, I’ll look someplace else. Thanks for your time.” I took off before he could add insult to injury.
“Well, I’ll pray for…” I couldn’t hear the rest as the church door shut behind me. I was secretly grateful that they were so well-made, so I didn’t have to listen to any more of his bullshit.
I leaned against the brick wall and dropped my head in my hand. This was not the start I’d hoped for. Since the church was a bust, I could check the dishwashing job, then I’d keep an eye out for other openings, grab a newspaper, and hit the pavement like my mother had suggested.
Luckily the city of Harlan wasn’t very large, and I found the restaurant with ease.
The place was packed, and sure enough, there was a ‘now hiring’ sign outside. If they needed the help, I’d be happy to show them what I could do.
As I walked in, the host immediately stopped me. Several patrons even craned their necks to get a glimpse of me. “Table or a booth, sir?”
“Neither.” I thumbed back at the sign. “You’ve got an opening?”
“We, ah. Well, let me go speak to my manager. I think we have a few potential hires lined up, but I can get you an application.” The lean youth didn’t want to tell me ‘no’, that was certain. He disappeared into the back and was gone longer than I was comfortable with. The patrons had a chance to settle from the shock of seeing me and began outright ignoring me.
He returned with a middle-aged woman who had a permanently sour look about her. “We don’t have the position anymore,” she said curtly. “And we don’t hire the likes of you, anyway.” This was a woman not afraid of retaliation. A couple of patrons overheard her thinly veiled accusation and became markedly nervous.
“Discriminating now, are you?” I spoke louder than I should’ve, garnering even more attention. The entire restaurant had already hushed to a tense silence. I leaned down and looked her in the eye. “You know what? Fuck you.” My throat rumbled with hate. I straightened up. “And fuck all of you, pretentious, motherfucking pieces of shit. Sitting there, judging me on your fucking high horses?”
“Sir,” she said with a look of utter disdain. “You need to leave, or I’m calling the cops.”
I gritted my teeth. “Choke on a dick, bitch.” The door slammed behind me, rattling the double-paned glass dangerously. I caught sight of the customers’ salacious murmurs through the windows and stormed down the street. At this rate, I’d be back in jail before the sun set.
It took me almost an hour to regain my composure.
Her words kept rattling around in my head, keeping me from having the self-confidence to go inside any of the venues. There were plenty of signs up, but that didn’t mean they were hiring people like me. I shouldn’t have been surprised, and I wasn’t, really.
In prison they had groups that talked about starting over on the outside. For most of them, it was dismal at best. A few had even confessed to getting in trouble again, just to come back. If it weren’t for my mother, I’d have turned myself right back in.
Prison made sense. It was rigid and confining, but I knew where I stood. Out here, it was me versus all of them. I was kidding myself, thinking they’d give me a shot.
News spread quickly in Harlan, and it was no surprise – with my mother’s connections – that the entire town already knew I was on the prowl. She had my best interest at heart, but was oblivious to the dark mark that singled me out from the crowd.
They’d never accept me.
I sighed, streaking my hair back and continued walking. After exhausting my search of the strip malls, I worked my way towards the older part of town, where the mom-and-pop shops were nestled between the big box stores. They were less likely to do background checks, and as long as nothing went missing, I wouldn’t be held suspect.
On the corner, just off the main road was the ‘Sit and Sip’. I saw the sign and laughed aloud, wondering if it was some sort of dirty joke. They had a sign up, and when I peered through the window, I realized it was a bookstore. I didn’t know much about books, but I could work a cash register.
I stepped inside, wondering if it was enough.
The smell of coffee hit me on the way in, and I realized, this wasn’t just a bookstore. Someone installed a bar in the middle of the space, and on the counter, there was a ‘Be back in 5’ sign. I craned my neck down the aisles, looking for customers, or an employee, or anyone, really. I couldn’t believe they’d just leave the cash register unattended like that. So stupid. Didn’t they know there were people just waiting to take advantage of their dumbass little store?
“Hello?” I called out. “Is there anyone here?”
In the back, I heard a shuffling, and a door shut. “Just a second!” I shifted from one foot to the other, waiting for the shouter to appear. When he did, his eyes went wide.
I sized up the little man, wondering if he was still in high school. “Are you the owner?”
He gaped at me, and almost shook his head. I had a real way with people on the outside. If he was the owner, I could just walk out now. The man cleared his throat, took a breath, and finally spoke. “No, ah- Sorry, the owner is on his lunch break. He should be back soon.”
“How long, do you think?” At least it wasn’t another ‘no’.
“Five, maybe ten minutes?” He stepped behind the coffee station, seemingly to protect himself from me. “Do you want a drink while you wait?”
“I’m good.” I didn’t need caffeine jitters while on the hunt, it was already nerve-wracking enough. I took a seat at the bar. “I’ll just wait here, if that’s all right with you.” The barista shrugged and avoided further eye contact, cleaning a coffee pot with furious intent.
/> I sat there, trying to make myself as least intimidating as possible. Not that it mattered. I couldn’t hide my roots in high school, and I certainly couldn’t hide them now.
The bell over the door jingled a rhythm, alerting me to newcomers. Before I turned around, I heard a familiar voice, followed by an equally familiar laugh.
Ryder Mueller. A chill ran up my spine as I stood to face him. Was he the owner? If he was, I’d have better luck trying to get that dishwasher job than standing here like a fucking lemon.
Sure enough, Ryder stepped inside and caught my eye. When he did, his entire body froze. Someone behind him swatted his arm, then turned to look at me.
My heart skipped a beat: Gavin fuckin’ Joy.
Get ready for book 5 in the For You Series, Wilde For You.
Available Soon!
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Here For You
For You: Book 4
J.P. Oliver
© 2019
Disclaimer
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are all fictitious for the reader’s pleasure. Any similarities to real people, places, events, living or dead are all coincidental.
This book contains sexually explicit content that is intended for ADULTS ONLY (+18).
