Misadventures with a Country Boy

by Elizabeth Hayley

  Cole was shocked by the words, though he knew he shouldn’t have been. Brooke had told him what her mom was like, but it was still jarring to hear the woman disregard Brooke’s wishes and throw a contract in her face.

  But Brooke’s tone was still calm when she replied. “People break contracts with their agents all the time.”

  Her mom quirked an eyebrow. “Is that really a road you want to go down? Think of how long that could take. The money it would cost.”

  Shrugging, Brooke replied, “I have plenty of money and nothing but time.”

  “Oh do you now? Because to my memory, a lot of your money is attached to your brand, of which your father and I are an integral part.”

  “So let me get this straight.” Brooke’s voice went steely as she took a step toward her mother. Cole moved behind her, hoping she’d be able to feel his support. “You’re going to get into a legal battle with your own daughter over money? How do you think that’ll look for your brand? I’m not sure how many of those new clients you’ve been signing are going to be too thrilled when they find out you’re trying to rip off your own child.”

  A strange look passed over her mother’s face—one that looked a little like fear—but she schooled it quickly. “We’ll be able to spin it to our advantage.”

  Brooke reached back and grabbed Cole’s hand, pulling him to stand beside her. “Mom, I want you to meet Cole. My…boyfriend?” she asked as she looked at Cole.

  “Hell yeah,” he said as he squeezed her hand.

  She turned back to her mom. “My boyfriend.”

  Sighing, her mother said, “I don’t particularly care to meet him after what he’s—”

  “I’ve never introduced you to a boyfriend before. Not one you didn’t set up for me. This is the first time, in a long time, I’m asking you to share an important moment with me as my mother and not the person in charge of my career. Please. Come meet him.”

  “I…I…” The hesitance rippled off the woman standing across from them. She seemed completely unaware of what she should do for a few seconds before her professional mask slipped back into place. “I’m being your mother when I tell you how you’re throwing everything away for some grifter who’ll bleed you dry and leave you all alone somewhere.”

  Cole had had enough. He was about to open his mouth to give this woman a piece of his mind, when he heard Brooke snort out a laugh. He looked over at her, and the sight of her cracking up caused him to do the same.

  Brooke stared at him with so much affection he almost lost himself in the moment. But then she said, “He has no reason to bleed me dry. My skin doesn’t even fit him.”

  Cole let loose a loud laugh as he remembered the words he’d said to her after they’d first met. “You’re so warped,” he said with as much adoration as he could.

  “You said it first,” she argued.

  That made them both laugh harder, to which her mom asked what the hell was the matter with them.

  Cole and Brooke slowly settled down, and Brooke walked over to her mom until she was standing right in front of her. “I know you started this so I could have a career that would make me wealthy and successful. And I can appreciate how hard you worked to make that happen. But”—Brooke let out a deep breath—“I really just want to be happy. You’ve never once asked me what I want. Never. So I think it’s time I told you.”

  Brooke put her hands on her mom’s shoulders. “I want to live, Mom. I want to stay up late watching scary movies and eating pizza and sleep in the next morning without having to worry about recording sessions and learning choreography. I want to hop in the car and drive to nowhere in particular without having to worry about people recognizing me. I want to live a peaceful, boring life where I teach little kids how to dance and enjoy arguing with the man of my dreams. I know it’s not the life you want for me. But can you at least respect that it’s the one I want?”

  Cole saw Brooke’s mom’s eyes fill with water, but no tears ever fell. “You’ll regret it.” It wasn’t a threat but a simple warning from a woman who thought she knew better.

  “I won’t.”

  Her mom took a shuddering breath and gently shook herself free of Brooke’s hands. “I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree. We’ll let you out of your contract as long as you don’t discuss any…unfavorable opinions with anyone.”

  Cole saw Brooke’s shoulders sag, and he moved up and wrapped an arm protectively around her. How dare this woman continue to treat Brooke like a business deal after everything that had just been said?

  Brooke merely nodded. Her mom turned and went to the door, pulling it open. “Goodbye, Mom,” Brooke said softly.

  “Goodbye, Brooke.” Her mom’s voice was wooden as she yanked the door closed behind her.

  Turning instantly in his arms, Brooke buried her face in his chest and cried. Cole held her and let her get it all out, rubbing circles on her back and whispering how wonderful she was and how thankful he was that she chose him.

  Eventually the tears stopped and Brooke pulled away, wiping her eyes. “Those will be the last tears I’ll ever cry for that woman.”

  Cole knew they probably wouldn’t be, but he kept his mouth shut.

  “I should change. And then I should probably call my accountant and make sure my parents don’t do anything with my money. Then I guess… Jesus, I don’t even know what else I need to do. Get my stuff from my parents’ house maybe?”

  Cole could tell she was starting to get overwhelmed, so he silenced her with a kiss. “How about we start with you getting changed? Then we’ll get a cab and go back to my hotel room. I agree that you should probably call your accountant as soon as you can, but everything else can probably wait.”

  “Wait for what?”

  “For me to show you how much I missed you.”

  “Mm, does that show involve a bed?”

  “Bed, couch, wall. Whatever.”

  Brooke giggled. “We better get going then.” But instead of moving away, she pressed in closer to him, which had his dick instantly perking up.

  “Don’t tease me, Princess. I’ll create a scandal right here in this dressing room.”

  “Promises, promises,” she said as she trailed soft kisses along the scruff on his jaw.

  “Brooke,” he bit out.

  “Yes?” she replied.

  “Wherever we get naked is where I intend to stay for at least the next two days. So unless you want to be stuck here, then I suggest you get a move on.”

  With a sigh, she took a step back. “Fine. Have it your way.”

  “Oh, baby. I intend to.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Brooke barely stepped inside the room before Cole had her up against the door and was kissing the ever-loving fuck out of her. Lifting one of her legs, she attempted to climb him until he got with the program and lifted her. She could feel the hard press of his cock through his jeans, and she wanted it inside her immediately.

  The drive to the hotel had been an exercise in restraint. She’d had the studio call a private car for them so she could make her phone calls from the back seat, since she knew she wouldn’t be able to focus on business once she had Cole alone in a bedroom. After getting her finances as squared away as they could be without face-to-face meetings and filling out a shit ton of paperwork, Brooke was ready to reacquaint herself with every square inch of Cole’s body.

  His hands squeezed her ass through her leggings as she writhed against him. Trailing kisses down her neck, Cole let out a long groan. “Missed you,” he murmured against her skin.

  “You too. Need you naked.”

  At her words, Cole tightened his hold on her and spun them before walking toward the bed. He lowered her onto it and then reached down and whipped off her shoes, followed by her burgundy tights.

  She helped him out by pulling off her cream tunic. Arching her back, she reached around to unclasp her sheer white bra, but Cole stopped her.

  “Leave everything else on.” His voice was deep and ne
edy, and it turned her on like nothing else ever had. He quickly stripped out of his jeans and burnt-orange T-shirt. His cock poked out of his briefs, causing her to shudder with anticipation. Finally, pushing down that last piece of fabric so it fell to the floor, he stood gloriously naked in front of her.

  He really was otherworldly. The hard ridge of his abs, the compact bunching of his muscles, the squareness of his jaw, and the rugged symmetry of his face made for a man who could’ve graced the covers of men’s magazines if he’d been so inclined. But instead, he chose to be holed up in a hotel room with her. Brooke would’ve asked what was wrong with him, except she didn’t want to risk him coming to his senses. Because the man was hers. And she wasn’t ever being separated from him again.

  Cole lowered himself on top of her, balancing his weight on his forearms. He kissed her deeply, his tongue tangling with hers.

  “Cole. Please,” she begged. Her clit throbbed every time he rocked his cock against her pussy. There was no doubt he’d slide into her smoothly and gloriously, considering how wet she was.

  He didn’t respond with words, but his hand moved down to slide her thong to the side. And as he guided himself to her entrance and slid inside, Brooke couldn’t hold back the moan of pleasure.

  “Feels so fucking good,” he muttered as he thrust into her. “Not gonna be able to go slow.”

  “No slow. Slow bad,” she replied, not even caring that she sounded like a moron.

  He picked up the pace, his cock moving in and out of her at a speed that made her inch up the bed with every push. Lowering his head, he licked her nipples through her bra as he rode her.

  The combination of sensations had her orgasm building rapidly. But when he lowered one of his hands so he could massage her clit, she was a goner. Her body heaved and bucked as if she’d been hit by a freight train.

  Cole continued to pump into her, his breathing harsh against her skin. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, wanting to be as close to him as possible when he released inside of her.

  “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he chanted as he thrust into her a few more times before pushing himself deep inside. She felt his cock pulse as he came. He’d pushed up onto his hands, and she could see how the muscles in his neck and arms flexed as his orgasm hit him. He gave a few more shallow thrusts before his body relaxed a bit.

  Lowering his head, he captured her lips in another kiss before he pulled out and plopped down next to her. She instantly turned toward him and laid her head on his chest. His arm wrapped around her, and they rested like that for a bit, giving themselves time to come back to earth.

  After a while, Brooke had half dozed off when Cole spoke. “So what’s next?”

  Brooke sighed, none too happy to have her post-sex happy bubble burst. “I’ll need to stay in the city for a couple more days to get things squared away with the accountant and my lawyer. After that, we can do whatever we want.”

  “I’m gonna need to go back to Oregon. I left Mary Sue there. She’s probably pissed that I ditched her for another woman.”

  Brooke laughed softly against his skin.

  Cole cleared his throat. “I wasn’t sure if…you know…if you wanted to go back there with me. Or if you wanted me to come back here. Or…what.”

  Babbling Cole was almost as sexy as naked Cole. “Well, you do still owe me a trip to Arches Park. I figure Oregon is much closer to it than New York is.”

  Cole released a breath.

  Brooke realized he must have been nervous to hear her response. “What? Did you think I was going to let you out of my sight?” Brooke let out a mocking laugh. “Silly boy. You’re stuck with me now.”

  “That’s everything I could want.”

  His words did funny things to her heart. There were pieces of her that sometimes seemed as if they were fundamentally broken. But then Cole said sweet shit like that, and Brooke felt almost normal. Like she hadn’t just said what may have been a permanent goodbye to her mother an hour before. Like she hadn’t just walked away from a multi-million-dollar opportunity to instead travel the country in a pickup truck. Like she hadn’t put all of her trust in some guy she met at a gas station in the middle of nowhere.

  Or maybe doing all of those things was normal. Maybe taking the road that had been mapped out for her would have been the crazy decision. It didn’t matter either way. Because regardless of what anyone thought, Brooke knew that while she may not have made the most responsible decision, she had made the right one.

  “I love you,” Cole whispered into her ear as he hugged her close.

  Brooke vowed to take every chance, risk every decision, and challenge every fear in order to go on every adventure she could with the wonderful former stranger next to her. And she did this with the words she swore she’d say every day for the rest of her life. “I love you too.”

  * * *

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  Acknowledgments

  We of course have to thank Meredith Wild for liking our writing enough to bring us on to the Misadventures team. You’ve been a friend to us since the beginning, and we’re eternally grateful for that.

  To Scott, Robyn, and the editing team, thank you for all of your hard work and kind words. You’re so great at what you do, and you’re a pleasure to work with.

  To the rest of the Waterhouse Press team, thank you for your continued support and for designing all of the kickass covers and graphics.

  Sarah Younger, thank you for…everything. For letting us vent, for being unapologetically honest, and for always looking out for us.

  The Padded Room, thank you for supporting our craziness. From posting links, teasers, and helping get our name out there, you are a vital part of our dreams. We love you ladies!

  To our families, we’re not sure how all of you put up with us so we can keep riding along on this journey, but we love you for that and a million other reasons. Thank you :)

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  Excerpt from Misadventures of a Curvy Girl

  IRELAND

  The car was my first mistake.

  I can admit that now, sitting here in the mud, my windshield almost too splattered with the stuff to make out the herd of cows chewing curiously at me on the other side of the fence.

  With a low curse—and a glare back at the judgmental cows—I fumble for my phone, thinking I’ll call someone. Anyone. A friend. A tow truck. An Uber. But when the screen lights up, I realize there’s no LTE out here. There’s not even 3G.

  Not even 3G.

  No cell service at all, actually. I throw myself back against my seat and listen to the sporadic drumming of rain on my roof. When my coworkers back at Typeset—the social media strategy firm I work for—heard I was heading out to the Flint Hills in my Prius, they laughed and teased, and a couple even offered me their trucks, but I refused. My little blue car may look like a piece of candy, but it’s never let me down in the city. Not once. I didn’t see any reason it would let me down just because I was a couple of hours west.

  I see the reason now, I assure you. Two words: dirt roads.

  I get out of the car again, pushing open my umbrella to shield me from the petulant, spitting rain while I walk around my vehicle to confirm for a final time that yes, all four tires are stuck deeply in the mud. It’s rained the past three days straight—something not even worth noticing back in Kansas City except maybe to whine about how it slowed morning traffic—but out here in farm country, the rain definitely makes itself known. The roads are nothing but slicks of rough mud, and the lonely trees look huddled and limp. The long fingers of summer grass crowding up along the side of the road are battered down by the days of rain, and the wet emer
ald stalks peppered with yellow coneflowers and purple spiderwort look just as sodden and battered.

  It is beautiful, though. And for a minute, I look up from my mud-bound car and just take it in—the heady abundance of green grass and wildflowers, the brooding sweep of the hills in the near distance. The line of black clouds in the west, promising rain and wind and danger. It’s like something that would be printed in a calendar, and the moment I think the thought, I dive back into my car for the expensive Nikon camera in the passenger seat. And then awkwardly crawl back out, abandoning my umbrella so I can capture the moment before it vanishes—the energy, the quietly decadent riot of wildflowers, the promise of abundant prairie summer.

  I take as many pictures as I can, trying to pick my way through the mud in my ballet flats, and for a brief moment, I wonder what my life would have been like if I’d taken that photography scholarship out of state instead of staying local and studying marketing all those years ago.

  I wanted to see the world once. I wanted to be one of those photographers who tramps all over Patagonia and Punjab, who snaps arresting photos of little Alpine villages and intrepid Antarctic outposts. And maybe if I took enough gorgeous, stirring photos, no one would’ve cared the woman behind the camera wasn’t gorgeous or stirring herself.

  Stop it, Ireland.

  This is exactly the kind of thought I am done entertaining. I turn to the car, seeing my reflection in the window just as I knew I would. I make myself look at it. Really look. Not the half-sideways glance I used to give, as if my view bounced off any mirrored surface without me actually seeing myself. No. I look, and I take in the pale twenty-four-year-old woman standing there. Ireland Mills.

  She has dark hair almost to her waist because she loves having long hair.