We sit against the rock for several moments, still meshed together in our desire and emotion .
Hawk looks deeply into my eyes, and I am lost in him completely. “I love you. I always have, and I always will,” he tells me softly. “I won’t take this second chance for granted .”
I smile at him, my heart overwhelmed with all of the love I feel for this man who has changed his entire life for me. I take a deep breath, and lean forward, ready to finally whisper the secret I’ve been keeping from him for weeks .
“We’re giving Gracie a little brother or sister, Hawk. I’m having your baby .”
He pulls back, his eyes dancing with a mixture of pure happiness, and surprise. “You… really ?”
I nod. “Are you happy ?”
He holds me close and kisses me softly, then whispers, “I’ve never been happier in my entire life, Parrish. You, and Gracie, and our baby… You are my world now .”
And as he kisses me again, I know with every fiber of my being that he means it, and this time, he truly will be mine forever .
C opyright © 2017 by Jess Bentley
All rights reserved .
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review .
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CHAPTER 1 - Prologue
ETHAN
“I t’s hot. Way too hot. Want to get out of here ?”
Aden kicks off his flip-flops and drops onto the chaise lounge next to me. I just shake my head, keeping my sunglasses on against the glaring sunlight. It’s a nice day, especially for San Francisco, but he’s right. It’s hot .
He hands me another Heineken, downing half of his in one long gulp .
“We could go to the Presidio,” he suggests. “Nora and Jessie said they’re going to be hanging out there today .”
I shrug one shoulder, drinking the beer thoughtfully. “I went out with Jessie a couple weeks ago. It doesn’t sound like a good idea .”
“Oh, man!” he barks, frustrated. “Are you kidding me? I told you I liked her. Why would you do that ?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I answer reasonably. “I saw her at the Dado, and she came on to me. She’s a nice chick. You should go for it .”
“Well, not if you already did,” he grumbles. “Can’t you just leave any of them alone? Doesn’t dibs mean anything to you ?”
“No, dibs does not mean anything to me .”
“Shit,” Aden huffs. “You know, ever since you struck it rich, you are kind of a jerk. Anybody ever tell you that ?”
“All the time,” I confirm. “That didn’t seem to stop Jessie though .”
“Fuck,” Aden spits .
In the pool house, I see his parents and my parents talking around the bar. They have been going at it for a couple of hours, but I don’t think Aden has noticed yet .
“So, the Presidio? Later ?”
“Yeah, maybe,” I agree, but I don’t think we will. If our parents are talking about what I think they’re talking about, I don’t think we’re going to be hanging out here this afternoon .
The other sliding door opens slowly and Aden’s little sister Ava steps out, shielding her eyes with her hands and scanning the edge of the pool. When she sees us, she stops. She presses her shoulders back and drops her sunglasses onto her nose .
I don’t move. With my sunglasses on, she can’t tell if I saw her or not. I don’t want her to think that I did .
Sure enough, she takes a long way around the pool, switching her scrawny little hips back and forth, stretching her arms unnecessarily over her head .
“Aden, Mom says you need to start the grill,” she announces with her hands on her hips, rocking back and forth. I’m careful not to move .
“Why don’t you do it?” he shoots back .
“Because Mom says you’re supposed to do it, big shot .”
Aden sits up, groaning. He rolls his eyes at me, where she can’t see, before trudging over toward the outdoor kitchen to set up the grill .
Ava lingers, still rocking back and forth. I can see her hip bones jutting out, but I am pretty sure she can’t tell that I see .
“Are you going to the Presidio later ?”
“Nope. Are you ?”
She shrugs. “No way. That place is lame .”
“I heard you were there just last weekend. Are you sure it is lame? Mark Sheppard, right ?”
She bites her lower lip between her teeth. “He’s not anybody. He’s just a jerk .”
“He’s definitely a jerk,” I agree. “You shouldn’t be hanging around with guys like that .”
“I’m eighteen years old, Ethan,” she informs me. “I can hang around with whomever I want .”
I shrug. “Suit yourself .”
She sighs through her nose, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Usually she swims. I sort of enjoy that, watching her do lap after lap while Aden and I hang out, drinking his parents’ beer. This, though, is not so great. I should not be talking to my best friend’s eighteen-year-old sister. I hope she leaves soon .
“Do you want to race?” she asks me .
“No, you go ahead .”
“It’s not a race if it’s just one person,” she huffs .
“Not gonna race you, Ava .”
She quirks one eyebrow at me in challenge, an expression that is both adorable and tempting. I’m not even sure why it’s making me reconsider jumping in the pool with her, but it is .
“Are you scared I’ll beat you ?”
I just shake my head. “That’s not the issue .”
She twists, looking at the pool over her shoulder. Then she turns back to me, thinking .
“How did you hear about Mark Sheppard ?”
“I hear a lot of things,” I explain. “Or maybe I’m keeping an eye on you, did you ever think of that ?”
She giggles shyly. “Keeping an eye on me? Why would you do that ?”
“Because you’re my best friend’s little sister, I guess. Somebody needs to keep an eye on you .”
“Yeah, well, it certainly won’t be Mark .”
“Was he bad to you? Do you need me to have him killed ?”
She giggles again. I can’t help but watch the muscles in her stomach ripple as she laughs. I like the sound too, even though I shouldn’t .
“When I was in the Marines, I learned a lot of things. You just say the word, Ava, and I’ll get him taken care of for you .”
She laughs, waving her hand in the air. “No, no… he’s just your average jerk. Nobody special. Certainly not worth killing .”
I can hear the weight in her sigh. The disappointment. Makes me feel kinda bad for the kid .
“One day, Ava, guys won’t all be jerks. I promise. Somebody will treat you like you deserve .”
“Oh yeah? How can you be so sure ?”
“I just know. If that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get. Just don’t stop looking until you find him .”
She stands swaying for little bit, digging her toes against her flip-flops .
“Yeah, well… we’ll see,” she says finally. Then she walks away, kicking her flip-flops off as she goes. I watch her until she climbs the diving board, bouncing once, and then executing a perfect pike dive into the water. She starts swimming laps, barely even making a splash .
“Jeez, our parents must be planning some kind of coup,” Aden mumbles as he comes back. “They’ve been in there a long time, haven’t they ?”
“Yeah, I guess so .”
“My dad looks mad. Because of the restaurant? Have you heard anything ?”
I shrug. “I don’t know anything. I keep out of their business as much as possible. I’ve got my own stuff to worry about .”
“Yeah, like Jessie,” he teases. “Just kidding, man .”
“Don’t worry about it .”
“
They all go for you anyway. Rich motherfucker. They don’t know you like I know you .”
I have to nod. He’s totally right. Aden gets me, always has. Jessie did not. And he’s right, I shouldn’t have been with her. He did sort of call dibs. It was kind of a shitty thing for me to do .
“You know who I think you might like?” I ask him. “Barbie Newsom. Do you know her ?”
“Barbie Newsom,” Aden repeats dreamily. “Yeah, I know her. She’s some kind of model or something. Do you know her ?”
“I think you would like her,” I continue. “I think she would like you too. Want to go out? I could set it up .”
“Shit, man, are you serious? Yeah, that would be great .”
“Yeah, let’s get out of here. I’ll see if she can meet us at the Presidio, okay ?”
“Absolutely! Thanks, Ethan. A lot .”
“Don’t mention it,” I say, scowling into the pool room. Ethan’s dad’s hands are up around his shoulders, gesturing with a chopping motion as he speaks. No one in that room is happy. I’ve got a bad feeling about that .
Chapter 22
AVA
T he ballroom is packed with recent graduates shuffling from booth to booth under the extravagant chandeliers of the Fairmont Hotel. I clutch my printed resumes close to my chest with my arms folded, squinting down the row of potential employers. Dozens of my peers in nearly identical “business professional” outfits—cheap suits and striped ties for the boys, conservative pencil skirts with white, button-down blouses for the ladies—push their way to the front of the best employers, trying to snag some of those on-site interviews .
I shift from foot to foot, realizing just how uncomfortable these heels are. If this is the sort of thing I have to wear for corporate life, I don’t think I want any part of it .
“Okay, I think I got everybody in this row,” my best friend Bea says, magically appearing right next to me. She tucks a curly strand of hair behind her ear and scowls at the sheaf of papers in her hands .
“What do you mean, you got everybody?” I shake my head .
She glances at me, raising her eyebrows like the answer is supposed to be obvious .
“I gave everybody a resume? The whole reason we’re here? Now I just have to wait for the job offers to roll in. I may make a spreadsheet to keep track of everybody. You know how to do that, right ?”
“Wait… you gave everybody a resume? As in, everybody ? ”
She nods, craning her head toward the next aisle and riffling through her resume copies again, apparently counting them .
“Yes, everybody. I figure I should have a job by tomorrow .”
“I don’t think that’s how that works, Bea,” I mumble, glancing at my own resumes. Ava Harrison, it says at the top. Then Objective: to find a job with long-term prospects and potential for advancement where I will be able to use my skills and ambition in a mutually beneficial way .
In other words, completely generic baloney .
“Of course it’s how it works,” she continues. “It’s like dating. You get as many digits as possible, even from guys you don’t even like. The more guys you have in the running, the better your odds of finding somebody worth banging. It’s a numbers game .”
“This doesn’t feel anything like dating,” I remark, trying not to sound too sarcastic. This was my idea, after all. Now that we have both graduated from Cal State, supposedly we are serious adults. On our own. Ready to face the future with a smile, or so the valedictorian told us at graduation .
“Sure it does,” she quips, popping her glossed lips dramatically. “Just slightly more literal. You size them up, they size you up. You do the fakey-fake dance and each tell each other some bull crap about how great we are, and by the time either one of you figures it out, it’s too late. You’re knocked up and married. Metaphorically speaking .”
“I guess you have a point …”
“Of course I do,” she snaps. “How are you doing, anyway? How many resumes did you give out ?”
“Well…”
I let the word drift off, and her attention gradually snaps back to me. She cocks her head to the side, scowling. I see her start to chew on the inside of her cheek .
“Fifteen? A dozen? Ten ?”
I just shrug .
“Help me out here, Ava. Six? Three… no, two? Wait, none?” she asks, her voice rising with every word. “Hold the phone. Are you seriously going to tell me that you have given out zero resumes ?”
I wince, unsure what to tell her .
“I just don’t know if I see myself as a medical biller, or veterinary lab assistant, or management trainee for San Francisco’s largest dry goods importer. I don’t know if those jobs are my future or not .”
She looks completely puzzled. Her eyebrows are arched so high, I’m afraid she’s going to get some permanent forehead wrinkles .
“You don’t know if that’s your future…” she repeats, incredulous. “How are you going to know what your future is unless you actually start doing something, Ava ?”
“Well, I’m not just going to take the first thing that comes along, you know .”
Bea turns on her heel, stalking toward the farthest cluster of employer booths. I hurry behind her, mostly because I don’t want to be left there looking stupid at the end of the row. At least this way, I have a mission: trying to keep up with Bea .
She zigzags back and forth, dropping a resume and a bright, friendly smile at each booth, one right after another. Men in short sleeves and ties or ladies in tired-looking sweater sets take her resumes with bland, unfocused eyes .
By the time we get to the end of the row, Bea is completely out of paper. She turns around to face me, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at my still-intact stack of resumes .
“Not even one?” she huffs .
I look down uncertainly. “I guess I was just watching you,” I explain meekly .
“You’re really going to just wait for something to, what, drop into your lap ?”
“No, of course not,” I protest. “But I just wanted to think about it a little bit; is that so weird? It’s a big decision, Bea. I’ll know when it’s right. And we have all weekend at this conference to poke around and figure stuff out, right? Maybe inspiration will strike me in one of the group sessions or career counseling breakout groups or something .”
“Yeah, I guess,” she rolls her eyes. “So, I guess we should just check in to our rooms then? Pick out which panels we’re going to attend ?”
I smile, glad she’s not going to keep berating me on this point. Sometimes Bea can be a little bit overbearing. She calls it enthusiasm. It’s more like a charging bull .
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I think the lobby is this way .”
We head out to the opulent lobby, immediately dropping our voices. Between the lush, tufted sofas and potted palms, recent college graduates mingle with minor celebrities and business owners. The place is so beautiful, it feels like a library or church or something. Like we should be quiet .
“I think that the check-in desk is over here,” I mumble, turning 180 degrees and looking for some kind of sign. “I left our bags just over here, next to the, oh my God — ”
I stop up short, momentarily startled. A poster for the event swims in front of my eyes, almost refusing to come into focus .
Bea shuffles up next to me, gasping slightly .
“Ava, isn’t that… don’t you know him ?”
I swallow, or try to. That dirty blond, shiny, wavy hair. Those sky-blue eyes. It has to be him .
“He’s the keynote speaker? Yikes,” Bea mutters. “Awkward .”
I scowl, trying to get a hold of myself. Try as I might, I can’t really see him. It’s like looking into the sun .
“It’s not awkward,” I sniff. “What’s awkward about it? We probably won’t even see him in person. Besides, he probably doesn’t even remember me .”
Bea gets her suitcase from the check-in area, rolling it quietly across the ma
rble tiles while suspiciously looking me over .
“Sure looks like you remember him,” she observes .
“Only barely,” I huff, trying to make my voice sound less defensive, less irritated, less of everything. “Water under the bridge. He is some billionaire investor now anyway. Doesn’t even breathe the same air as we mere mortals do .”
“Probably has it shipped in special from his secret lair,” Bea agrees, nodding .
“Yeah, ha-ha, probably,” I chuckle, glad her attention is not completely focused on me now .
But those eyes… I have to glance back. It’s definitely him. Those bright, intense eyes that always seemed to stare right through to the middle of me are now in the middle of that life-sized poster. I’m having a hard time looking away. It’s just some publicist’s photo, and I know it is not looking right at me, but it almost feels exactly the same .
“We should get checked in,” I mumble, forcing myself to turn around. Bea goes all businesslike again, striding importantly across the lobby toward an alcove where four young women stand in matching outfits. I hurry behind her, happy to put some distance between me and the soul-piercing gaze of Ethan Mercer .
“What do you mean, you don’t have our rooms? But we have reservations?” I hear Bea saying to the frightened-looking young woman as I walk up .
“What’s going on?” I ask .
The woman Bea’s talking to looks about my age, with a healthy, freckled glow and perfectly white teeth. Tiny strands of ginger hair have escaped from her conservative bun and are haloing her reddening cheeks as she taps nervously on her laptop .
“Well, with the conference, we’re booked, and it appears your reservation… I mean, I see it here but… I mean — ”
“What’s wrong?” I ask Bea. “Is there a problem with our rooms ?”
“Just take a breath,” Bea tells her, holding up her long, slender fingers. She has a Jedi-like ability to manage stressful situations that I am immediately grateful for. “You see the reservation there, right? Two rooms? Queens? Adjoining ?”
The girl gets more flustered as she taps. “I mean, yes, I see them. It’s just that they’re not here ."
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