Not So Wrong: Love Grows series, Book Two

by Regent, Renee

  Not So Wrong

  Love Grows series, Book Two

  Renee Regent

  Not So Wrong—Love Grows series, Book Two

  Copyright © Renee Regent 2019

  Published by Royal Turtle Media

  All rights reserved. Except for use in a review, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any printed or electronic form without express written permission from the publisher. For permission or rights information, please contact the publisher:

  Royal Turtle Media

  1353 Riverstone Pkwy. STE 120-174

  Canton, Ga 30114

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, are coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-7331549-0-1 (p)

  978-1-7331549-1-8 (e)

  Editing—Chris Hall, The Editing Hall

  Cover Design—T.E. Black Designs; www.teblackdesigns.com

  Interior Formatting—T.E. Black Designs; www.teblackdesigns.com

  Join my mailing list for exclusive news, information and promotions, including a free mini e-book! Visit http://www.reneeregent.com/newsletter-sign-up

  This book is dedicated to all the musicians, artists, and writers who put their heart and soul in their work, and sacrifice in large and small ways to bring beauty to the world.

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  A Note To My Readers

  Special Thanks to:

  Also by Renee Regent

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Spencer

  Shortly after my thirty-fifth birthday, I learned a truth I never dreamed was possible—that even billionaires get the blues.

  I know, wah-wah. I deserve no sympathy because I am fortunate financially. But that doesn’t mean my life has been all sunshine and rainbows. Money helps tremendously, but it doesn’t solve every problem. I do try to give back when I can—I’d just spent the day at a local nursing home, where I’d donated not only my time but paid for music and art lessons for several of the residents. It was deeply satisfying to witness how excited these men and women were, playing instruments or painting for the first time. Or renewing their passion for a former hobby. They reacted with such joy, and it gave them something to focus on instead of the reason they were there.

  Still, as awesome as the experience was, I came away wondering about my own life and how much time I’ve wasted.

  I owed a huge debt of gratitude to my uncle, John G. Colebank II, and the rest of his family, who took me in when my world fell apart. It was a debt I could never repay. I’d recently become Uncle John’s right-hand man at CB Resorts International in Atlanta, his vacation rental empire, where I’d worked most of my adult life. This meant being available whenever he requested, day or night.

  Which was why this evening, I was attending the latest soiree at Colebank Manor, even though I’d rather be home in my underwear nursing a scotch and playing blues on my grand piano. It would have been some much-needed down time. Instead, I drove my Corvette through the ornate iron gates and up to the circular driveway. I handed my keys to the attendant, pasted on my most charming grin, and entered the house. It was show time.

  The first person to greet me inspired a cringe, which I hid well. Years of practice kicked in as my nosy but well-meaning Aunt Margaret pulled me into her embrace. Her spindly arms were cold against my neck. It was like hugging a skeleton, albeit one draped in expensive fabric.

  “Spencer. My favorite nephew. You didn’t bring a date?”

  Uh-oh. That look in her eyes could only mean one thing—I was about to be fixed up. No doubt there was a daughter of a friend of a friend attending that I simply had to meet.

  “No, Auntie. I’m flying solo today. So, please don’t go setting me up with anyone.”

  She hooked my arm in hers and strolled from the foyer to the living room, which was filled with people.

  “Nonsense, dear. You’re a catch. It would be a waste not to try. Plus, I promised your mother I’d always look out for you.”

  “And I appreciate your concern, but I’m an adult now, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  My comment was ignored as she maneuvered us through the crowd. Margaret was Uncle John’s sister and shared his stubborn streak, so I had no choice but to go along. Soon, we stopped in front of a white sofa where a young lady sat. She appeared to be in her late twenties, and though not flashy, she was well-dressed. From her jewelry to her shoes, her appearance screamed “old money.” Margaret made the introductions.

  “Spencer, I’d like to introduce Miss Fern Peasley. Her father is an associate of a dear friend of mine.”

  Bingo. I’d called it.

  “Hello, Fern. I’m pleased to meet you.”

  I extended a hand and a smile, and she did the same. It took less than a minute for my aunt to disappear, leaving us in an awkward conversation. When I asked if she wanted a drink, Fern declined and excused herself to the restroom. From her curt dismissal, it was obvious the lack of interest was mutual, so I went in search of a scotch.

  The truth was, I had no interest in meeting women right now. Never had trouble finding dates when I wanted company. I’d had a few serious relationships, was even engaged once, but I hadn’t yet met anyone I wanted to spend time with. Usually, it was all fun and games until it, well, wasn’t.

  I headed toward the bar in the corner, where a young man in a burgundy shirt and black vest was pouring.

  “Glenlivet, neat.”

  Fortified by the drink in my hand, I moved through the crowd. I spotted the sandy-blond head of my cousin, Gibson. His hair was so much like my own but mine was darker, and my eyes were hazel brown. Other than that, we were often mistaken for brothers instead of cousins. Our fathers actually were brothers, who rarely agreed on anything. While we used to be close when we were young, Gib and I now had a rivalry between us to put our father’s quibbles to shame.

  I slapped him on the shoulder and enjoyed his startled reaction.

  “Gibson, my man. How’s life up in the boonies?”

  He gave me a playful slap on the back in return that was just a bit too forceful.

  “It’s great. You should try it sometime. The fresh air might improve your disposition.”

  I laughed and looked down at my feet.

  “Yeah, but I’d hate to ruin these Italian loafers. Cost me a pretty penny. I’m surprised you ditched your work boots for the party.”

  This was a dig at his penchant for manual labor, when he had the resources to hire the best companies to do the work for him. I secretly admired his drive to follow his dream, even though I didn’t understand why he enjoyed working with his hands the way he did. I mean, he actually slung a hammer and used saws and stuff. But for some reason, it was easier to tease him about it than to give him praise.

  His wife, Sacha, broke in before Gib responded. “He wears them when he’s out actually working
. You’ve heard that word before, right?”

  I lifted my glass to her in salute.

  “You’re still sweet as ever, my dear. Such a welcome addition to the family.”

  The barbs were flying, as they always did when I interacted with my cousin and his wife. It was all said with smiles and under the guise of joking, and I knew if one of us was in trouble, the other would be there to help. But it masked a deeper rift between us. Somehow, over the years we ended up growing apart, though I couldn’t pinpoint the reason. Now we rarely interacted socially unless it was an event like tonight.

  But then, I had always been something of an outsider with the family. After a while, you just play your part and go on, doing the best you can. As long as we did our jobs, and the money kept flowing, we all survived quite nicely.

  The Colebank empire consisted of a vacation rental and resort company, among other successful businesses. My position was head of Sales and Marketing, and our division had brought in increased revenue year after year. I took pride in beating our records. But despite the money and accolades, my passion for the business had waned. Somehow my spark had gone out, and I had yet to understand why.

  Sacha raised her own drink in a return salute to me, along with a smirky smile. Then she saw someone over her husband’s shoulder, and her face lit up.

  “Melanie, over here.”

  She gestured and a woman joined us. She looked familiar, and it took me a few seconds to place her. She was striking, tall, barely an inch or so shorter than me. Her creamy complexion was framed with high cheekbones and dark, expressive eyes. When she spoke, it hit me—I had met her at Gib and Sacha’s wedding.

  “Sorry I’m late. Traffic.”

  She shrugged her shoulders, which were bare, and tucked a strand of long, dark hair behind her ear. Her silky white blouse was held in place by cuffed sleeves, and strategically placed cutouts showed a peek of cleavage. She was talking with Sacha, so I had a moment to drink in her loveliness. Tight black silk pants hugged her long legs, and bright red spiked heels completed the subtly sexy ensemble.

  I was in love.

  Well, maybe it was lust, but I found myself wondering why Aunt Margaret could never find someone like this to stick me in a corner with.

  When their conversation paused, I downed the last of my drink for courage and extended a hand. All eyes looked to me, and I introduced myself to Melanie.

  “Hi. I’m Spencer. I think we met at the wedding of these two lovebirds?”

  I cocked my head toward the aforementioned couple, and Melanie nodded. She shook my hand, holding on as she spoke.

  “Yes, I think so. I’m Melanie Parker.”

  It may have been static electricity from the carpet, but I swore I felt a current. Her cheeks briefly turned pink as she withdrew her hand, and she turned to look at Sacha. I had to do something before they locked me out of the conversation, so I asked if she wanted a drink.

  She did, and I left to get her a glass of wine. The party had just become interesting. Maybe coming here tonight wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

  * * *

  Melanie

  I was not good at parties, which was a bad trait for a singer. Parties like this, where I hardly knew anyone, were even worse. I could work a crowd like nobody’s business when I was on stage, but put me in a room full of strangers and I became a damned wallflower.

  I needed a drink, STAT.

  My best friend Sacha was at my side, so I relaxed somewhat. She was the reason I was here. We hadn’t seen each other in months, and I’d missed her. Her handsome cousin-in-law had gone to get me some wine, so I’d be able to relax and shake off my anxiety. The argument I’d had with my sister this morning had put me in a bad mood, and the day had gone to hell after that, so I had high hopes the evening was going to be better.

  Putting on my best smile, I thanked Spencer as he handed me a glass. Our fingers touched, and his eyes met mine. They were golden-brown, framed with dark lashes, and expressive. I saw blatant interest in his gaze as it swept over me. He had an air of confidence, the bearing of a successful man. Clean-shaven and well-groomed, he was attractive in a preppy sort of way. I usually couldn’t stand this type of guy and preferred more creative types, like the musicians and artists I regularly hung out with.

  But I couldn’t resist flirting, even though Sacha had warned me Spencer wasn’t on the best of terms with her husband.

  “Are you always such a gentleman?”

  His brows raised and his smile turned wicked.

  “Always. I believe a lady’s needs should come first.”

  The turn of his full lips made my pulse ramp up. Maybe the fact Sacha had warned me made him more attractive. Or maybe I just needed a boost, and he was here and willing. Either way, the evening had just become interesting.

  A uniformed woman appeared at Sacha’s elbow and whispered in her ear. Sacha nodded and then squeezed my arm.

  “Jono’s awake, if you’d like to see him.”

  I hadn’t seen her son since the day he’d been born, several months earlier. I’d seen his photo on my phone, but that wasn’t the same as in person. Shortly after they were married, Sacha and Gib had moved to Tilly, Georgia, a few hours north of Atlanta, so I rarely saw them.

  “Of course.” I turned to Spencer and gave him a wink, which I hoped no one else noticed. “Would you excuse me?”

  He winked back and nodded. I followed Sacha out of the room and up a grand, curving staircase.

  It was much quieter on the second floor of the grand mansion that was Colebank Manor. I’d heard that was more a nickname than an official name, but it suited the place. We walked down a long hall past gorgeously carved wooden doors. Several small tables and mirrors lined the spaces between the doors. Live plants and fresh flowers were everywhere. The place was impeccably decorated, and I couldn’t imagine living in a home like this.

  It was freakin’ light years away from the trailer park in Florida where I was raised.

  Sacha opened a door on the right and went inside. I followed, shutting the door behind me with a soft click. Plush gray carpet muffled the sound of my feet, but the rest of the room was like stepping into a box of crayons.

  “This is the nursery,” Sacha said over her shoulder. “Gib’s mother insisted on redecorating it even before Jonathan was born.”

  I glanced at the whimsical painted animals on one wall and the huge collection of plush ones in the corner.

  “First grandchild?”

  Sacha laughed as she lifted her son from the crib. He giggled and waved his arms, clearly glad to see her.

  “No. Gib’s sister, Audrey, has three kids already. And she’s a few years younger than him.”

  “I remember her. Aww, he’s such a happy little guy.”

  I stuck out a finger, which the baby grabbed in his chubby little fist. He blinked blue eyes at me and smiled a toothless grin.

  “He is, actually. We’re so blessed.”

  I was overwhelmed with joy for my best friend. She had achieved everything she wanted and more. I was truly happy for her, but it didn’t diminish the sadness I felt regarding my own future. A rich husband and gorgeous babies were not in the cards for me.

  They never were. All I’d ever wanted was to make a living doing what I loved—singing. Now that dream was over. It was time to face my fate and do what had to be done.

  “May I hold him?”

  Sacha placed the baby in my arms while she went to fetch a bottle. I began to sing, a soft ballad that always brought tears to the eyes of my audience. Jonathan stared at me, wide-eyed.

  Sacha handed me a bottle and I sat in a nearby rocking chair. The baby took the bottle in his pink mouth and closed his eyes in bliss. His mother sighed and looked at me, smiling a proud-mamma smile. Then she cocked her head, asking, “So, what’s new?”

  My friend’s eyes were bright, but the bags underneath showed the strain of new motherhood. She really didn’t need to hear about my problems, but I had no one else
to talk with about my impending drastic life change, and it was driving me crazy.

  “Well, I might be moving back to Florida, for starters.”

  “What? What about your band?”

  “We’re still playing, but we need a steady gig. We’ve got an audition this weekend to be a house band. If that works out, I’ll stay. But my sister is saying Mom’s not getting any better, and she really needs my help with the kids.”

  “Can I help? I mean, we’ve got more money than we need, and that’s putting it mildly.”

  My stomach clenched. I was happy for my friend. She would never want for anything. But I didn’t want her taking care of my responsibilities. It wouldn’t be right.

  “No way, Sacha. But thank you. If we get that gig, and I put in more hours at my pet care business, we’ll have enough money for my sister to hire a part-time caregiver. I appreciate it, though.”

  “I’m always here if you get in a bind.”

  She leaned down to hug me, and Jonathan smiled up at us. I was also blessed, in many ways.

  I just needed to find a miracle of my own.

  Chapter Two

  Spencer

  Two scotches later and I wasn’t feeling any better. I’d eaten some of the gourmet appetizers laid out on various tables and wandered around, making small talk. I’d had a lengthy discussion with some potential clients my uncle had invited, which was likely the main reason for the party to begin with. There was always a larger reason for everything that happened, and it all led back to the business of the Colebank empire. There really was no “off switch” at our level of operating, though we still managed to indulge ourselves whenever we could.