Bitch (Chauvinist Stories Book 1)

by Elise Faber

  The door closed as I lost my fight with tears. Cole flipped the lock, took one look at my face, and scooped me up in his arms.

  Then carried me to his bed and held me as I cried.

  And even for a tough bitch like me, that was enough.

  Twenty

  Cole

  Reeling.

  I was reeling.

  She’d told my mom she loved me, had hugged her with tears in those pretty blue eyes, was letting me hold her while she absolutely lost it.

  And she loved me.

  Holy fucking shit, she’d finally said she loved me.

  I’d expected hard, to have to coax and grind and pull that feeling out of her. Definitely, to have to say it first. I’d even been trying to plan the perfect moment to tell her—one where she couldn’t run off in a panic. Instead, she’d just offered it up.

  In front of my mom.

  Somehow, why didn’t that surprise me?

  I didn’t realize I’d chuckled aloud until Olivia glanced up at me with watery blue eyes. “Why are you laughing?”

  “You. My mom. Why isn’t it surprising that you two would get along?”

  “We did team up well over the phone,” she said, tapping her finger on her chin, before giggling. “I didn’t realize you were a glutton for punishment. Sure you want two of us conspiring in your real life?”

  Though her question was light, I could still see the hesitation in her eyes, knew that while something had happened today to open her up, it wasn’t the be-all and end-all. She’d need patience and understanding. And maybe a little teasing back.

  “Do all the heels come with you?”

  The tension in her shoulders relaxed. “That, and I think I have a hankering to buy more.”

  “Hankering? You’ve been to the ranch once and are already going full cowgirl on me?”

  She used the back of her hand to rub the tears from her cheeks. “No,” she said, and sucked in a breath, releasing it slowly. “I’m coming to you as a girl who grew up off the grid, who was homeschooled most of my life, who only went to real school for kindergarten and first grade—at least until I was fourteen and left home so I could go back. I’m coming to you as a girl who heard her whole life that she was a burden and unlovable.” She sighed. “I’m coming to you as a woman who’s just started to finally believe that all of those old patterns were bullshit and realizes she has value.”

  “Honey,” I began, but she shushed me.

  “I saw Dr. L again today,” she murmured. “And she convinced me to lay everything out to you. That’s all of my shitty past, and while I try to not let it bleed over to my life now, it still does.” She patted her chest. “But I’m still me. I’m strong. I won’t let it stop me from living, and”—her voice dropped—“from hopefully having you in my life.”

  “Olivia—”

  “But I’m still a work-a-holic who loves shoes,” she said over me. “I’m still a tough bitch who won’t give you an inch. I want that to be enough for you.” Another breath in and out. “But if it’s not, I know I’ll still be okay. Because I’m also coming to you as a woman who is a fighter, who can endure, who will find my way out to the other side.” A beat. “Only this time, I won’t have a half-life. I’m going to have it all.”

  I tugged her back down against my chest, wrapping my arms tightly around her, rocked to the core, unable to know where I should begin when I had so many feelings twisting around inside me.

  “I like the heels,” I murmured, starting with perhaps the least important fact. But she huffed out a laugh and pushed lightly against my chest, gaining enough distance so I could see her eyes when I told her, “And I love you, honey. Have for a long time, just didn’t think I had a chance with the brilliant, hilarious, beautiful woman who I was lucky enough to have in my life. I forced myself to be content with whatever you were willing to give, never knowing that you’d give me this.”

  “I’m not ever going to be an easy woman to love.”

  “Horseshit.” I sat up and pressed my lips to hers. “The loving part is as easy as breathing. It’s all the rest of it that’s tough.”

  “If you’re referring to my heels, then I’m going to punch you,” she said.

  I grinned. “I was referring to us getting out of our own way enough for us to realize how lucky we are to have each other in our lives.”

  “Oh.”

  I nipped her bottom lip. “Yeah, oh.”

  Her hands drifted to my towel. It was precariously perched around my hips, and having my beautiful woman sprawled on top of me meant that it wasn’t covering much of my growing problem.

  I stopped her, just for a moment.

  “Honey, we both know that life throws us curveballs, that bad things happen to good people, and that there will always be bumps in the road.” Her fingers clenched into fists, worry creeping into her eyes. “But there is no one I would rather share those rough patches with than you.”

  “I’ll keep going to Dr. L,” she said. “I’m going to keep talking through my past, make sure I’m not the one creating those patches.”

  I shook my head, cupped her cheek. “You’ll keep going to talk to someone as long as you want, as long as it’s helping you. And together, we’ll do our best to pave our own road, okay?”

  She sighed. “Why do you have to be so logical and smart?”

  “I’ve been around you too long.”

  Olivia grinned. “I love you. Now”—her fingers slipped from my grip and went back to work on the towel—“tell me you love me, too or I won’t go down on you.”

  “Honey.”

  She glared, though her lips were twitching.

  “You should know by now,” I said, flipping us and unbuttoning her pants, fingers slipping between her thighs.

  “Know what?”

  “That I don’t come first.”

  And then I kissed her, knowing that things might never be smooth or easy or bump-free, but so long as they were spent with Olivia, rough, bumpy, and tough would be just perfect.

  “I love you too, honey.”

  Epilogue

  Part One

  Olivia

  I closed the door to Dr. L’s office, feeling exhausted mentally, but also lighter. The burdens I’d shouldered for more than twenty years were getting lighter and while I still went backwards sometimes, still retreated into my shell, the six months of therapy coupled with the six months of Cole, had made a huge difference.

  Becca sent me a text when I’d hit the street, asking about dinner that night since the guys were off on some man’s trip, fishing in a cold-ass river somewhere up north.

  I’d grown up off the grid, had hardly spent a moment with clean clothes or nails or even a clean face, but I drew the line at spending overnights in freezing cold water casting a fishing line for naught.

  Want to come to my place? I have the playpen Jasper can crash in. Then you won’t have to clean anything up.

  That was another part of the new and improved me.

  Friends. Or at least being open with them enough to have a crib folded up in my closet . . . or well, in Cole’s hall closet, since we’d moved in together.

  Weekdays in the city. Weekends and holidays at the ranch.

  It was working. It was us. It—

  He’d sacrificed his second bedroom to my clothes and shoes. Though, not without a fight. Later, I’d realized he’d only been trying to rile me up so I’d get angry, we’d fight, and then we’d tear our clothes off during makeup sex. But since the makeup sex was hot as hell, I’d decided to forgive him.

  That and because I’d come home the following weekend to find all my clothes and shoes organized by color and season.

  It was kind of nice having a house husband. Or a part-time one, anyway, since he was helping develop the youth program for the Gold and still involved with the ranch— which was up and running, the first summer of camps a roaring success. They were working on expanding the program to include more year-round programs, but for now, the team wa
s happy with their first run.

  Your place sounds perfect.

  I smiled, gave Becca my ETA, and hustled back to Cole’s place. We’d order in, I could snuggle Jasper, and then watch the latest pop star documentary on Netflix. It’d be great, especially if I could coax a little wine into Becca.

  She was a total lightweight and her tipsy commentary made for a giggle-inducing night.

  I stepped off the elevator and walked down the hall, keys out. But when I reached the door to the condo, it flew open and I was yanked inside.

  “Sweetheart!” Penny’s voice boomed as she wrapped me in a tight hug.

  I didn’t jump because I’d gotten used to her volume, but I did hug her back because I’d learned that not much felt better than having Penny McTavish hug me tightly.

  “This is a surprise,” I said.

  She didn’t do surprise visits—or even ones that she sprung on us—any longer. There was always a call a few days or weeks before.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  Penny nodded. “Fine, sweetheart. I had some business in the area, called Cole, and found out you were here, so I thought I’d make dinner and hang out a bit.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” I said and meant it. “Becca and Jasper are coming over.”

  “Jasper?” Penny smiled. “That little boy is so stinkin’ cute. Come on,” she said and took my hand, tugging me further into the apartment. “Get out of those clothes and into something more comfortable. I’m making pasta.”

  “On it.” I strode toward the second bedroom, now my closet, and began changing, but when I stopped by the master to grab my phone charger, I froze.

  “Penny?” I asked, heart thumping in my chest.

  We hadn’t filled the walls yet, both having been so busy and neither of us being able to agree what should go on them—though I think I mentioned my stance on arguing about silly things and the subsequent greatness of makeup sex.

  But there was something on them now.

  Pictures.

  A huge portrait of Cole and me staring into each other’s eyes from that night six months before, when we’d finally laid it all out. Shots of us since then. Us smiling at the ranch, Bucky in the background. Holding hands on the beach, the sun setting behind us. Me sleeping on his chest. Him holding a fishing pole.

  Memories.

  Good ones.

  Penny wrapped her arm around my shoulders. “Are you mad, sweetheart?”

  I shook my head. “No, Penny. I-it’s wonderful.”

  My life with Cole out there, full and happy and so much more than I ever could have hoped for.

  “I didn’t mean to find the ring,” she said. “I swear. I was just snooping through Cole’s drawers, trying to find a warm pair of socks, and—”

  I twisted, jaw dropping open. “What ring?”

  Penny’s eyes went wide. “Oh shit.”

  “I meant the pictures,” I said slowly. “He bought me a ring?”

  More wide eyes. “The pictures are lovely. Did he just put them up?” she said, trying to steer me away from the bedroom. “Sauce is on the stove. Bread’s in the oven—”

  “Ring?” I asked again, just as my phone buzzed.

  I can’t decide if I want you to love the photos or hate them so we can have more makeup sex.

  Penny bit her lip.

  I showed her my phone.

  “Yes,” she said, chagrined. “I found a ring.”

  We both looked at each other and laughed. Then the doorbell rang, and Becca came in, carrying a babbling Jasper, baby bags tossed over both shoulders. We were relieving her of them when the timer on the oven went off and then we spent the next few hours scarfing down food, getting Jasper to bed then drinking wine and bingeing Netflix before we were all too tipsy and tired to go anywhere. So then we spent a while getting Becca settled in the spare bedroom with Jasper, and Penny comfortable on the couch when she wouldn’t sleep in my bed.

  Thus, it was much later by the time I found a moment to text Cole back.

  I love the pictures and I love you.

  Also, I’ll never turn down makeup sex.

  His response made me smile as I careened headlong into sleep.

  Honey.

  Yeah, things might not be perfect.

  But they were damned close.

  And that was everything.

  Plus, he’d bought me a ring.

  Epilogue

  Part Two

  Artemis

  He didn’t know I was a woman.

  That was wont to happen with a name like—

  “Artie?”

  I didn’t hold it against the young male director for staring around the room—devoid of people except for the two of us—in confusion for several long moments. With a name like Artie, I was often confused for a man. Especially considering that I was in the movie business, and specifically production, which was a male-dominated field.

  Though I had to give it to him, he recovered quickly.

  His smile was charming, his looks even more so, but I was going to give him bad news.

  I couldn’t stand his films.

  Any of them.

  He was talented, an up and coming young director who could barely grow a beard, but he had vision, he was smart, and he could shoot a movie.

  They just weren’t for me.

  And so I was going to pass on this project.

  Probably stupid, considering he was going to be the next hot thing in Hollywood, but also that was me—not the stupid part, but the going with my heart and gut and never working on a film that I wasn’t passionate about.

  I’d promised myself that before getting into the industry and I’d kept that promise for the last sixteen years.

  Films that showed women in strong, fulfilling roles. Films that featured talented female comedians. Films that featured all colors, genders, and sexual orientations.

  Films that weren’t Hollywood.

  It wasn’t pandering. Audiences understood when they were being played.

  They also understood genuine.

  I’d built my career on that notion and I’d become successful. But it had taken a solid ten years of working and hustling—and did I mention hustling—before I’d gotten well-known enough that I’d actually made so money.

  And also four Oscars, but I didn’t need to brag.

  Snorting to myself, I lifted my brows and my glass to my lips.

  “You’re Artie,” Pierce Daniels, said handsome, young director, answered his own question and sat in the chair opposite me, extending his hand for me to shake.

  The contact sent a zing up my arm, made my heart skip a beat.

  Uh-oh.

  Cougar

  Coming April 5th, 2020

  Artemis and Pierce’s story is coming April 5th. Preorder your copy here.

  Chauvinist Stories

  Bitch

  Cougar

  Whore

  Also by Elise Faber

  Chauvinist Stories

  Bitch

  Cougar (April 5th, 2020)

  Whore (May 3rd, 2020)

  Roosevelt Ranch Series (all stand alone, series complete)

  Disaster at Roosevelt Ranch

  Heartbreak at Roosevelt Ranch

  Collision at Roosevelt Ranch

  Regret at Roosevelt Ranch

  Desire at Roosevelt Ranch

  Billionaire’s Club (all stand alone)

  Bad Night Stand

  Bad Breakup

  Bad Husband

  Bad Hookup

  Bad Divorce

  Bad Fiancé

  Bad Boyfriend

  Gold Hockey (all stand alone)

  Blocked

  Backhand

  Boarding

  Benched

  Breakaway

  Breakout

  Checked (March 29th, 2020)

  Life Sucks Series (all stand alone)

  Train Wreck

  Phoenix Series (read in order)

  Phoenix Rising

 
Dark Phoenix

  Phoenix Freed

  Phoenix: LexTal Chronicles (rereleasing soon, stand alone, Phoenix world)

  From Ashes

  KTS Series

  Fire and Ice (Hurt Anthology, stand alone)

  About the Author

  USA Today bestselling author, Elise Faber, loves chocolate, Star Wars, Harry Potter, and hockey (the order depending on the day and how well her team -- the Sharks! -- are playing). She and her husband also play as much hockey as they can squeeze into their schedules, so much so that their typical date night is spent on the ice. Elise changes her hair color more often than some people change their socks, loves sparkly things, and is the mom to two exuberant boys. She lives in Northern California. Connect with her in her Facebook group, the Fabinators or find more information about her books at www.elisefaber.com.